To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,36
Cory, who pulled away from the curb with a screech of his wheels, hell bent on seeing Brennan as soon as possible. I could only hope their reunion would be a happy one.
Danny and his friends were in the middle of a heated pickup game of football two houses down from ours. He called “hello” and waved to me.
I stopped to watch a few plays. Danny’s passing arm was true. All his practice with Ray had paid off. Danny’s football team had their first game this Sunday. He couldn’t wait. Ray couldn’t wait either. Ray never got to play football in high school. His fireman father had died a hero on the job, and Ray had assumed responsibility for the care of his little brother after school while his mother worked, just as I took care of Erica for my dad. It was one of the life experiences that brought the two of us closer. But now Ray could have his football vicariously again through Danny, who had the makings of a star athlete, as had Ray’s younger brother. Pride and happiness flowed through me. I headed into the house.
The aroma of beef stew greeted me at the front door. I kicked off my pumps and carried them across the living room and into the kitchen, where Ray stood at the counter making a salad.
I rose up on my toes to kiss him. He barely gave me a peck, clearly preoccupied. I dropped my heels to the floor with a thud. “What’s wrong?”
“We had two phone calls. The first was Danny’s father.”
Danny’s father called once a week and the two of them talked for five minutes or so each time. If Ray was home when he called, Ray always found something to do outside. I suspected he felt conflicted over law enforcement’s failure to put Danny’s father in jail for car theft, especially since he’d made off with the Ferrari from my showroom right under Ray’s nose. I knew allowing Mr. Phillips to contact Danny without any effort to discern his location and arrest him violated Ray’s code, although he never said a word, perhaps not wanting to risk losing Danny. It was in the back of both our minds that Mr. Phillips could pick Danny up from school or off the street at any time and disappear with him, but we counted on Mr. Phillips’ continued desire for us to provide stability for Danny. After all, he stole my Ferrari in order to get money for Danny’s college fund.
“Did Danny talk to him?”
“He did.” Ray tossed the knife he’d been using to slice a cucumber onto the counter. He turned to face me, folding his arms across his chest. “Did you know they met up at the vintage festival?”
Surprised, I dropped onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “No, when?”
The moment I asked, I knew the answer. Danny never bugged me to go back and buy the 1:43 scale car model he’d asked for when he came out of the store. If he’d really wanted it, he would have. His father had been in the store. I should have known he wouldn’t miss a moment of the parade laps for anything as insignificant as a miniature car.
“That’s what I want to know. I didn’t see his dad. Did you?”
“No, but Danny went in the store to use their bathroom. He didn’t want me to go with him.” Now I wondered if he’d known his father was inside or if it had been a delightful surprise. Last week, I had overheard him tell his father we were going to the festival, but it didn’t seem like they’d made any plans to meet up.
Ray stared at me, his good-cop, bad-cop, whatever-you-need-me-to-be-cop expression in place. God, I hated that expression, completely unreadable and oh so frustrating!
He turned back around and started slicing the cucumber again.
I sidled over next to him. “Ray, does it bother you that Danny saw his father?”
“The man’s a wanted felon.”
“He’s also Danny’s father.”
Ray stopped slicing. “I know.” He sighed. “I know.”
“It’s important for Danny to know his father loves him, as important as it is for you and I to both love him and provide a good example.”
Ray slid his arms around me and buried his face in my hair. “You are the only mother figure in Danny’s life. You don’t feel the constant tug of war.”
I understood. Ray needed reassurance and, since he’d probably been stewing about this issue for hours, a diversion. “Remember Mr.