Chasing the Wind (26 page)

Just then, Doug suggested a short break. Amalise pushed back her chair and went to the credenza for a cold Tab and a croissant. Turning, she found Bingham Murdoch right behind her. Chewing and smiling, she moved aside.

But he turned to her as he picked up a glass, pinning her with his eyes. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day, about the area we're purchasing for the project." Something in his tone recalled Robert's earlier scrutiny. Amalise froze, suddenly unable to swallow as she recalled the rogue plan she'd been considering. But how could they possibly know about that?

"I was watching you while Robert reviewed the construction plans with you a few days ago." He poured a Coca-Cola into a glass and watched it fizz.

"They weren't exactly what I'd expected."

"I know that." Bingham turned, facing her, standing too close. She stepped back. He tilted his head. "So you're worried about souls
and
trees now."

She swallowed. The croissant had turned to dry cotton in her mouth.

Bingham gestured toward her with the glass. "Listen, don't you worry. The place will look fine when it's finished. Lots of glitz, lots of razzle-dazzle. There'll be landscaping, flowers, and new trees—decorative trees—and special lighting."

She nodded.

He shifted his weight and sipped the drink. "I just wanted you to know I understand how you feel. You love the charm of those old places, I know, but there's nothing to worry about." He paused and looked at her. "Sometimes change serves a larger purpose." He gestured toward the map rolled up and standing in a corner of the room. "That layout over there doesn't do the project justice. Those are just flat lines on a sheet of paper." He shook his head. "We'll bring in business, jobs. The residents will find other neighborhoods and settle down." He smiled and the lines around his eyes crinkled.

But Caroline and Ellis wouldn't enjoy a smooth transition. They'd be evicted. And the children would be returned to the home in Gentilly or shuffled off to other foster homes. And Luke . . .

She looked away.

"I used to think like you. Came from a place so beautiful you'd have to hold your breath to look." Bingham's voice was reflective, as if long-forgotten feelings were seeping from him like sap from a tree. "Yes, indeed. Green forests, tallest trees in the world until the paper mills came along." Together they looked at the mountain of paper on the conference table, caught each other in the act, and smiled. His voice lightened. "But those mills created jobs. And jobs fed families. And new trees were planted." He shrugged as if it was all too much. "So who are we to favor trees over the rest of life?"

If she hadn't been so worried about Caroline's family, she'd admit he had a point. But she smiled. "Maybe all this paper will be replaced someday by computers." But she thought of the one big mainframe the firm kept off limits and doubted that.

He shrugged and sipped the drink. "Who knows? You might be right."

"You should drive through there again."

"Where?"

She looked at him. "The Marigny. The project area." Perhaps if he really thought about the neighborhood, he'd understand.

He frowned and waved his hand, as if the question was of no consequence. "Like I said, I did that several years ago, when I first looked at this project." His eyes turned to hers. "But it's bad business to get involved on a personal level."

She set down the Tab and the half-eaten croissant and excused herself, turning away.

At one o'clock Murdoch called a break for lunch, and Amalise breathed a sigh of relief. They'd be gone awhile. She'd grab a sandwich and spend her time finalizing the negotiated changes to the agreements in her office. As the men began pulling on their suit jackets, she picked up a pile of paper, nudged Raymond, and nodded toward the door.

On the sixteenth floor she stopped at Ashley Elizabeth's desk.

Ashley Elizabeth looked up. "Oh, there you are." She reached across her desk for a message slip and handed it to Amalise. "I've put your other messages in your office, near the phone, but this one sounded important."

Amalise glanced at the yellow slip and saw that Caroline had called. Could Amalise call back when she had time? Something was wrong with Luke.

"She sounded like she was crying. I couldn't really make out much of what she said. Who's Luke?"

Amalise, already turning away, hurried into her office.

"Are you coming to lunch?"

Jolted, she turned to see Raymond behind her in the doorway.

"Murdoch's temperament today requires lunch at Tujac's." When she didn't answer, he grinned. "I know. It's tough. Bingham's dazzled. I guess that's how he makes it through the day."

Something was wrong with Luke. Caroline had never called before. "I can't," she said, setting down the papers she'd brought from the conference room. "Something just came up. I'll be out of the office an hour or so, I imagine."

"We'll be awhile, too, I guess. But either way, we have another late night ahead of us." With a wave, Raymond disappeared.

She picked up the phone and dialed Caroline's number. The phone rang six or seven times before she hung up. Pinpricks rose on the nape of her neck. Amalise picked up her purse and hurried to the door.

Caroline's red and swollen eyes widened
when she opened the door and saw Amalise standing there. "I'm so glad you're here." Her voice trembled as she stepped back, beckoning. Amalise looked about for Luke. Caroline reached for her, pulling her inside. "Please. Come in."

"Where's Luke?" She slipped her purse from her shoulder, laid it on the kitchen table, and pulled out a chair.

"He's upstairs. The others are at school." Caroline stood, leaning against the stove and raking her fingers through her hair. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks." Amalise took a shallow breath and asked, "What's wrong? Is he hurt?"

"No. Oh no, it's nothing like that."

Caroline pulled out a chair and sat, as if gathering her thoughts. Amalise watched as Caroline lifted her eyes and hugged herself.

"Things have gone from bad to worse with Luke. The social worker, Mrs. Gebb, was here yesterday, and she made some comments about how withdrawn he seems."

"No. He's just . . . he's just confused. Guarded."

Caroline nodded. "I know. But in the past few days, since you last saw him, something's changed. He's practically stopped eating. Hardly sleeps." She looked off. "And sometimes he wakes up screaming."

"Maybe he's remembering." She shuddered.

"He tosses around all night." Caroline's face crumpled. "I don't mean to burden you, Amalise. But I know you care about him, and in some small way he seems to connect with you. So I thought . . ." Tears brimmed and she blinked them back. "I thought maybe you could get through to him." Caroline stood and grabbed a napkin from the counter, standing with her back to Amalise as she dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

Then she turned around and her voice broke. "I'm afraid we're going to lose him. I'm afraid they'll take him back to the home."

Amalise's hand dropped into her lap.
Abba, help me to help this child. I'm listening now! Just put me on the right path here.

With a wan smile, Caroline tossed the napkin into the trash can. "I'm sorry." She leaned back against the stove. "I called your office before I thought. Didn't mean to drag you away from work. He's in bed, upstairs."

"Well, that's the first thing we'll change. Let's get him out of that bed."

Amalise stood, but Caroline lowered herself back into the chair, the tears welling up again.

She sat down again. "There's more, isn't there."

Caroline's head dropped into her hands. Amalise took a breath and waited.

When she looked back up, she blurted the words. "It isn't just Luke." Hands pressed to her lips, Caroline looked at her. "I think they're going to reject our petition—for all the children, not just Luke."

"But—"

She flung her hands onto the table. "Our ages, our financial situation—it's all against us. But I thought we had a chance until this thing with Luke. This is the final straw. I could see it on Mrs. Gebb's face."

Amalise pressed her lips together, eyes roaming over the warm kitchen, the neat countertops, and back to Caroline. "They couldn't find better parents than you and Ellis."

Caroline sat back and let her arms fall limp to her sides. She heaved a shuddering sigh. "Well she wants us to do it all again. Start over. Fill out more forms—income and expenses again, this time projected for the next twelve months. We need to show we can provide a stable home, she says." She frowned, looking down. "We'll do that, of course. Ellis will. He's good at that sort of thing."

The idea Amalise had been turning over in her mind for days rose again. There were risks if she were discovered, but what were the chances of that? Slim. If she followed through with this, it might help with Francine Gebb's evaluation for the adoptions. If she did nothing, Caroline and Ellis's hopes for adoption would end in a pile of rubble.

But above all, her heart ached for the child upstairs.

She leaned forward. "Listen. You can do this. You and Ellis get that information together and give them what they want. And I'll help with Luke." She pushed back the chair and stood. "Let's take one thing at a time, Caroline, and we can fix this."

Caroline looked up at her, eyes wide.

"I'll take him for a little walk right now. Maybe I'll find a crack in that wall he's built around himself. I'll take him to the park, get him up and out of the house."

With a slight smile, Caroline rose and Amalise followed her into the living room, waiting at the foot of the stairs as she went up to get Luke.

Amalise retrieved Luke's coat from the closet. A soft wool hat was tucked into a pocket. When Luke came down the stairs with Caroline, she helped him into the coat and gently pulled the hat down over his ears. He turned and gave her an appraising look, curiosity in his eyes.

Caroline had an old bicycle with a child's seat on back. It had fat tires and low handlebars with a basket hooked over them, reminding Amalise of the bike she used to ride when she lived and worked in the Quarter.

She lifted Luke into the child seat and buckled him in. Glancing up, she caught Caroline watching her. The light she'd seen in Caroline's eyes in the other times they'd talked was gone.

She decided to head for Washington Square Park. With Luke strapped in behind her, Amalise tucked her skirt between her legs and took off. While typewriters and telephones whirred and hummed back at the offices of Mangen & Morris, Amalise wheeled down Kerlerec with the chill wind blowing through their hair. Not a peep came from the child behind her. Overhead, sunshine filtered through the last leaves of the trees and, forgetting that he didn't understand, she called back to him, pointing up to the clouds and the shimmering autumn light as they rolled along.

In the park was a fountain, and she stopped there and planted her feet on the ground. The sun warmed her and she stood there taking in the scents of fresh-cut grass, the mildew, and the dank green moss spreading like velvet over the roots and trunks of the trees. Luke sat silent behind her on the bicycle.

The park was the size of a small city block and was quiet at this time on a school day. She pushed down the kickstand, dismounted, and reached for Luke. The boy studied her with a grave expression but didn't move. Then he let eyes rove over the playground. He tilted back his head, looking into the branches above as if searching for signs of danger. At last he turned back to her. She unbuckled the strap and lifted him from the seat, while he leaned around her to see the water splashing in the fountain. He was light as a feather as Amalise lifted him and set him on his feet.

She took his hand, and they walked toward the fountain. Playfully she dipped her fingers into the water and flipped up a spray of glittering silver droplets in the sunshine. To her surprise, he reached down into the water, splashing, imitating her, his lips curling into the beginning of a smile.

Caroline was right—they shared some connection. But she just smiled, and they walked on. He took her hand this time, holding on as they crossed the grassy lawn toward some boxy wooden swings built with crossbars to hold small children in.

He halted just before one of the swings and reached up. He'd probably seen Daisy do this many times at home. Amalise lifted him into the swing and lowered the crossbar. She began to push the swing, and Luke looked over his shoulder at her. And suddenly, there it was—she thought it was her imagination at first—the silver glissando of a child's laughter.

Listen to that, Abba! Did you hear?

Luke pumped his little legs, wanting to go higher, higher, like other children did. Her spirits soared watching him. She stood aside, wishing that Caroline was here to see, clapping for him when he reached new heights.

Later, when he'd tired of the swing, they followed a meandering trail near the fence where a well-tread path through the grass was beaten down to hard dirt. They came to a patch of dark-green clover, and squatting on her heels, she brushed her fingers over the soft clover. Luke squatted beside her and did the same, glancing up at her from under his dark lashes.