Father to Be (43 page)

“Trey—”

He brushed off his grandmother’s plea and gestured toward the steps. “Want to walk and talk?”

Well aware of the Whittakers’ glares burning into her back, she preceded Trey down the steps to the sidewalk that cut across the lawn. They were in front of the next-door neighbor’s house before she spoke. “I’m Kelsey Malone.”

“J. D. Grayson the third. Everyone calls me Trey.”

She glanced at him. “I don’t imagine you’d tell me what the J.D. in your name stands for.”

His grin was wry. “It’s a family secret.” Immediately, at the mention of
family,
the grin faded. The name—and the secret—was the only thing he still shared with that family,
Kelsey thought sadly. That and, of course, a great love and sorrow for his mother.

“You know my dad?”

“Yes.”

He sighed heavily. “I don’t.”

“It’s hard to get to know someone when you’ve cut him out of your life.”

He gave her a long, steady look that reminded her of J.D. “He wasn’t ever a part of my life, not only after my mom died.”

After my mom died.
Not
After he killed my mom.
That was a good sign, she thought. “No. I understand he was working long hours.”

“And drinking gallons of booze. And caring more about total strangers than he did his own family.”

He spoke in the same tone Caleb had used after the run-in with Kenny Howard at the church.
He didn’t even ask if it hurt … if it’d been Gracie or Noah or Jacob, he’d’ve asked.
“It may have seemed that way, Trey, but he loved you and your mother very much. He just didn’t do a very good job of showing you.” Though she had no doubt that Carol Ann had known.

“So … is he still sober?”

She nodded. “He has been since your mother’s death.”

“Good for him.” But he didn’t sound very sincere. In fact, he sounded as if the next logical comment would be a question—why couldn’t he have gotten sober and stayed that way
before
she died? Why did he find the strength to stay sober now, when the family had already been destroyed, instead of two and a half years ago, when they could have been saved?

She wished, for J.D.’s sake, for Trey’s and his grandparents’, that J.D. had found sobriety earlier than two and a half years ago. But if he had, he would be living happily here in Chicago with the woman he’d loved dearly. He
wouldn’t be a part of Kelsey’s life, and yes, it was selfish, but she
wanted
him in her life. She
needed
him.

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s still a psychiatrist. He works at the hospital in Bethlehem, and he also sees patients at the schools and the nursing home.”

As they’d walked, the houses had gradually given way to businesses. Now they stood at an intersection with shops on all four corners. Trey gestured toward the McDonald’s across the street. “Want a Coke?”

“Sure.”

He was the one who paid for a hamburger and two Cokes. He polished off half the burger in two bites before asking, “Why’d you come here?”

“J.D.—your father—”

“You can call him J.D.”

She nodded with a tinge of regret. “He’s had temporary custody of four foster children—three boys and a girl, ages five to twelve. He wants to keep them. My boss found put that he’s a recovering alcoholic who lost custody of his own son, and she wants the kids placed elsewhere.”

“He didn’t
lose
custody of me. He gave it up.”

“He thought it was best for you. He thought it was what you wanted.” She folded her hands together to stop her fingers from knotting. “He tried to keep in touch with you. He called and wrote you letters.”

“I know. In the beginning I didn’t want to talk to him or read his letters, and Grandma and Granddad said I didn’t have to, so I didn’t. But once”—a sheepish look came onto his face—“I hid one of the letters from them, and after they went to bed, I steamed it open and read it, and I felt—really weird. Kinda bad for him and—and kinda bad for me too, like
I’d
done something wrong. But I didn’t. He was the alcoholic. He was the one driving drunk when Mom died.”

Kelsey watched as he finished off the burger, then crumpled the wrapper with great attention to detail. She was always amazed by the capacity for forgiveness shown by the abused and neglected children in the state’s care, always wondered where that kind of love came from and often wished it would go away. Abuse and neglect were easier to deal with if you didn’t dearly love the person guilty of them. Rejection and abandonment didn’t hurt so deeply when the person rejecting and abandoning you wasn’t of utmost importance in your life.

Now, though, she found herself wishing that Trey Grayson possessed just a little of that forgiveness and love those other kids had, that he wasn’t so aware that he had good reason to hate his father.

“You’re absolutely justified in breaking off contact with J.D.,” she said quietly. “He made a lot of mistakes, mistakes that hurt you, and he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s worked very hard to get where he is today. He’s struggled to rebuild his life, to rebuild himself. He’s not the same man you used to know. He’s a very kind, generous man who’s admired, respected, and loved by everyone in Bethlehem, including those foster kids.”

He gave her another of those long, steady J.D. looks but said nothing.

“The custody hearing is tomorrow. It would mean a lot if you would testify on his behalf.”

“He never had time to be a father to me, never even tried to get custody of me, and you want me to go to court and say that I think he’d be a good father for those other kids?”

She smiled faintly. “When you put it that way, it does sound a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it? To even consider that, you would have to have some feeling for him besides hatred.”

“I don’t hate him exactly,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Sometimes I wonder, you know, what he’s like, how he’s doing. Sometimes I wonder if he’s sorry, if he still misses Mom, if he—if he misses me. Sometimes I think he’s forgotten all about me. He never really cared much in the first place, or he wouldn’t have always been working and he wouldn’t have just let Grandma and Granddad have me, but sometimes …” His voice trailed away until it was barely audible. “Sometimes I wonder.”

She laid her hand over his. “He’s very sorry, Trey. You and your mother are the biggest sorrows, the biggest regrets in his life. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Go back with me tomorrow, and he’ll be more than willing to tell you himself.”

His expression took on that troubled look again. After a moment, without answering, he slid out of the booth and picked up his trash. “We’d better go home. Grandma and Granddad will be worried.”

Reluctantly Kelsey followed him outside. They made the return trip more or less in silence, their only conversation meaningless remarks about summer and weather. When they got to the Whittaker house, she handed him a card with the number of her hotel and her departing flight information on the back. “Call me.”

He looked at it, then glanced over his shoulder at his grandparents. “I don’t know.”

“Your dad wasn’t there for you when you needed him—I understand that. But if you find it in your heart to give him another chance, I promise he’ll never let you down like that again.”

“Granddad says Mom gave him too many chances and it got her killed.”

“And what would your mom say to that?”

He shrugged awkwardly.

“Think about it.” She closed his fingers over the card, then wrapped her own fingers around his. “Think about
what your mom would want you to do. Think about what
you
want to do. Will you do that?”

After another look at his grandparents, he nodded.

She couldn’t ask for anything more. “Thank you for your time. I hope to hear from you.” She started across the street, then, after a few steps, turned back. “Trey? It was an honor meeting you.”

His cheeks colored and he mumbled some response before turning to run up the sidewalk.

She’d done all she could. Now she could only wait … and pray.

K
elsey’s note to J.D. was short—
I’ll be back
—but waiting for her to return was taking forever.

People got swept away in the heat of a moment. Spurred on by passion, people said and did things that they later regretted. Maybe she was off somewhere, regretting that afternoon. Maybe she was trying to figure out how to deal with it, how to let him down without risking the delicate balance he’d finally regained.

But she loved him, had told him so while he slept. He knew in his soul it hadn’t been a dream. She believed in him, and the least he could do was return the favor.

That didn’t stop him from worrying though.

He waited through the night, dialing numbers by instinct, leaving messages that edged into pleading. He by in his bed, where the smells of her clung to the sheets, listened to Bud’s snores down the hall, and waited.

He’d finally dozed off when the phone rang. Instantly awake, he grabbed it, but it wasn’t Kelsey. It was Mitch Walker.

“Good news, J.D. We just got a call from the Binghamton P.D. They picked up Caleb tonight. Other than being scared and hungry, he appears to be in good shape. They
said he wants you to come pick him up. He was insistent about that.” Mitch stopped to yawn. “I can’t get hold of Kelsey. She isn’t with you, by chance, is she?”

“No. I’ve been trying to reach her too.”

“I told them you’d be there in a couple or three hours. That a problem?”

“No. I’ll leave now.”

Mitch yawned again. “Talk to Detective Mendez. He’s expecting you.”

“Thanks, Mitch. Thanks a lot.” His hand trembling, J.D. hung up, then closed his eyes. Thank God, Caleb was safe. If he only knew the same about Kelsey …

It was a long drive to Binghamton. By the time J.D. parked in front of the police station, the sun was up and his stomach was growling. He spoke to the detective who’d found Caleb, showed his identification, and signed endless forms before the kid was finally brought out to him.

Caleb shuffled along beside the officer, his gaze cast down, looking as bereft as anyone J.D. had ever seen. When he stopped a few feet away, J.D. cupped his chin, pushed his head back. There were no new marks on his face, just a few dirty streaks across one cheek. His bottom lip was trembling though, and his eyes were so full of tears that one blink was going to wash them over.

“Are you all right?”

Caleb nodded mutely.

“You are grounded forever.” Then, wrapping his hand around Caleb’s neck, J.D. pulled the boy to him in a fierce hug. “My God, Caleb, I was so scared—”

Pressing his face against J.D.’s shirt, Caleb burst into sobs that racked his thin body. “I’m sorry, doc! I’m so sorry! I thought—I thought you didn’t want me and ever’one would be happier if I was gone, but I didn’t have no place to go and I was scared and—” He pushed back to
look up at J.D. with anguish. “My dad’s never comin’ back, and I—I want to go home.”

J.D. held him until he was all cried out, until he’d cried a few tears of his own, then dried Caleb’s face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “I thought I didn’t want you too,” he admitted, “but I was wrong. I
do
want you, Caleb. I want you and the others to stay with me forever. But first …” He took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s talk about your dad, and let me tell you about my son.”

T
he hearing was set for eleven o’clock. It was half past when J.D. parked his truck down the block and he and Caleb hurried to the courthouse. Half the town, it seemed, was gathered outside. Some were there, no doubt, to testify on his behalf. Others waited to wish him well and to welcome Caleb back. He saw all the people who had come to mean so much to him in the last year and a half—everyone but the kids.

And Kelsey.

They made their way inside the courtroom, and the hope he’d been harboring all the way to Binghamton and back died. She wasn’t there. Judge McKechnie was on the bench, the court reporter at her seat in front of him. Bill Robbins, the district attorney, was chatting at the defense table with Julian Freeman. Mary Therese sat on the first row in the gallery, along with one of the intake workers from her Howland office, a young woman named Lisa, and Jacob, Noah, and Gracie were beside them—at least, until they saw Caleb.

With excited cries they surrounded him, Gracie and Noah climbing into his arms. While the four of them huddled together, J.D. approached Mary Therese. “Where is Kelsey?”

Her only response was a grim shake of her head.

“I thought …” He sighed dejectedly. “I thought maybe she was working. Doing something for you.” Or something for him, for them. I’ll do what I can to help you, she’d promised. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that might be running away.

No.
He believed in her. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she hadn’t run away.

“I don’t know where she is.” Mary Therese shifted uncomfortably. “J.D., I’m sorry for what’s going to happen here. I believe you’re a good man, but—with your history … We have to be so careful. I’m sorry.”

Looking up from the papers in front of him, Judge McKechnie cleared his throat. “Now that Dr. Grayson and young Caleb have decided to grace us with their presence, shall we get this show under way?” He gave them a moment to take their seats. “Now, as I understand, the allegation of abuse has been dropped. Caleb, Garth Nichols says you got those injuries in a fight with him and some other boys. Is that correct?”

The judge easily intimidated grown men, but Caleb got to his feet and unflinchingly met his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“We’ll discuss your lies later, young man. Right now we’re going to skip on to the issue of custody. You children will wait next door with—what’s your name? Lisa. Just take them through that door.” He waited until they were gone, then turned to the D.A. “Bill?”

Robbins called Mary Therese to the stand. She hit—and hit hard—on everything—his alcoholism, Carol Ann’s death, and, most especially, the fact that he’d given up custody of Trey. She was apologetic, but she was also unswerving in her belief that in light of this recently uncovered information, he was
not
a good candidate to take custody of four young children.