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Wildest Dreams
Robyn Carr


www.robyncarr.comWith Thunder Point, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr has created a town where hard work and determination are all it takes to make dreams come trueBlake Smiley searched the country for just the right place to call home. The professional triathlete has traveled the world, but Thunder Point has what he needs to put down the roots he's never had. In the quiet coastal town, he can focus on his training without distractions. Until he meets his new neighbors and everything changes.Lin Su Simmons and her teenage son, Charlie, are fixtures at Winnie Banks's house as Lin Su nurses Winnie through the realities of ALS. A single mother, Lin Su is proud of taking charge and never showing weakness. But she has her hands full coping with a job, debt and Charlie's health issues. And Charlie is asking questions about his family history–questions she doesn't want to answer.When Charlie enlists Blake's help to escape his overprotective mother, Lin Su resents the interference in her life. But Blake is certain he can break through her barriers and be the man she and Charlie need. When faced with a terrible situation, Blake comes to the rescue, and Lin Su realizes he just might be the man of her dreams. Together, they recognize that family is who you choose it to be.







With Thunder Point, #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr has created a town where hard work and determination are all it takes to make dreams come true

Blake Smiley searched the country for just the right place to call home. The professional triathlete has traveled the world, but Thunder Point has what he needs to put down the roots he’s never had. In the quiet coastal town, he can focus on his training without distractions. Until he meets his new neighbors and everything changes.

Lin Su Simmons and her teenage son, Charlie, are fixtures at Winnie Banks’s house as Lin Su nurses Winnie through the realities of ALS. A single mother, Lin Su is proud of taking charge and never showing weakness. But she has her hands full coping with a job, debt and Charlie’s health issues. And Charlie is asking questions about his family history—questions she doesn’t want to answer.

When Charlie enlists Blake’s help to escape his overprotective mother, Lin Su resents the interference in her life. But Blake is certain he can break through her barriers and be the man she and Charlie need. When faced with a terrible situation, Blake comes to the rescue, and Lin Su realizes he just might be the man of her dreams. Together, they recognize that family is who you choose it to be.


Praise for #1 New York Times and #1 USA TODAY bestselling author Robyn Carr (#ulink_68b4c0e1-66ad-5a12-a3bc-97ac32aa13b3)

“The captivating sixth installment of Carr’s Thunder Point series (after The Promise) brings up big emotions.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Homecoming

“In Carr’s very capable hands, the Thunder Point saga continues to delight.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Promise

“Sexy, funny, and intensely touching.”

—Library Journal on The Chance

“A touch of danger and suspense make the latest in Carr’s Thunder Point series a powerful read.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Hero

“With her trademark mixture of humor, realistic conflict, and razor-sharp insights, Carr brings Thunder Point to vivid life.”

—Library Journal on The Newcomer

“No one can do small-town life like Carr.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Wanderer

“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”

—Library Journal on the Virgin River series


Wildest Dreams

Robyn Carr






www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


To Vivienne Leung, with gratitude and affection.


Contents

Cover (#ue930215e-835a-5f41-820e-620dbedf95bb)

Back Cover Text (#u1ea6a049-26bc-5cb3-929f-22904a8f75c3)

Praise (#ubc301309-26b8-5446-a1c5-3cd019a9c85f)

Title Page (#uae5253a4-629c-5cdd-bd8a-d8118f3954b2)

Dedication (#ub3964b48-db94-576e-a8ab-af8e06a10da5)

One (#u3e09776c-0f53-5923-a5d0-c9bd7b576720)

Two (#uae85ac17-c82f-5070-bc5f-90f5a5339799)

Three (#u675f844d-f55a-50df-85c0-6e9c041f5e5f)

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Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

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Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_c34df46f-0823-595e-92af-721fdc7edc66)

Not much that happened on the beach got by Charlie Simmons. He was fourteen and his mother was the nurse who tended Winnie Banks, a lady with ALS who lived on the hill overlooking the beach. Charlie came to work with his mother every day. He hung out around the house, the town, the beach. He was, more than anything, a practiced observer. More observer than participant, something he’d change if possible.

It was the third week of August, the house next to Winnie’s was complete inside and out, and a moving truck had finally backed up to the garage. Charlie had seen the new owner back when he’d first looked at the house. He’d ridden across the beach road on a bicycle—a very expensive-looking road bike. He’d visited with Cooper on the deck that faced the bay. They went into the house together and didn’t come back out, at least on the beach side. Cooper had later reported the guy with the bicycle was interested and made an offer.

When the moving truck pulled up and began to unload, Charlie went out front to have a look. All the houses along this ridge backed up to the Pacific, with the perfect view from their decks and living rooms, but their front doors and garages faced the road at the top of the hill. Charlie saw Cooper talking to the movers so he waited patiently until he was finished.

“Just be sure that gym equipment goes downstairs—it’s heavy. He’s making the game room on the lower level his workout room. Living quarters on this level. You should be able to identify the master bedroom, kitchen, living room, bath, on this floor for everything else. I’ll be down at the bar when you’re ready for me to sign off on delivery.”

When Cooper was walking back to the bar that he owned, he passed right by Charlie. “Who’s moving in, Cooper? The guy with the million-dollar bike?”

Cooper grinned. “The same. He’s out of town right now.”

“In a race?” Charlie asked.

“Big triathlon in Australia.”

“Holy smokes,” Charlie said. “He’s an Ironman?”

Cooper laughed. “He is.”

“What’s his name?” Charlie asked.

“Blake Smiley. You going to look him up?”

“It’s what I do, Cooper. You want me to fill you in?”

“I think I have enough information, but thanks.”

“You ever want to compete in a triathlon, Cooper?”

“Absolutely never,” he said, clearly amused. “Not that I don’t admire the folks that can do that...”

“When’s he going to be here?”

“I’m not sure. Any day now, I guess.”

“I’m going to track the race. Do you know where in Australia?”

“No, I don’t know where. Can there be a lot of them?” Cooper asked.

Charlie was on it. He got out his laptop and looked the guy up. This was what Charlie had been doing for a long time—finding information and learning on his laptop because he didn’t have a lot of friends and couldn’t run and play like the other kids. Charlie had suffered from some serious allergies and asthma as a little kid and was therefore confined to a quieter life. He believed it was his frequent bouts of bronchitis and pneumonia when he was younger that resulted in him being a little undersized for his age. Either that or his Vietnamese roots through his mother’s side of the family. But then one day someone passed on an old laptop, showed him how to use it and all those indoor days had resulted in a smarter than average fourteen-year-old.

Charlie’s mother, Lin Su, was Amerasian. Since Charlie’s biological father was white American he supposed that made him Amer-amerasian. He could see Vietnam in his black hair and dark eyes.

He looked up Blake Smiley. The man had been racing for fifteen years. He went to college on a scholarship and was thirty-seven years old. Smiley was a triathlon champion many times over having scored his first win in Oahu; he held a couple of records, had a degree in biology and physiology and was sponsored by a few corporations and even made a commercial for a fancy juice mixer. A juice mixer? Charlie wondered. Smiley was also a coach, consultant and sometime motivational speaker. Charlie was in love with TED Talks; he’d love to be smart enough or experienced enough to teach or inspire people with his accomplishments. “He’s a god,” Charlie muttered to himself. And then there was his size. He was five-ten and one hundred and fifty pounds. Not huge. Charlie found that encouraging.

He’d seen the guy. He looked so strong. So ripped. He saw him ride his bike down the beach road, pick it up and jog up two flights of stairs to meet Cooper on the deck of that house he bought. But as pro athletes go, he was small.

The second thing to intrigue him—Smiley had to teach himself to swim. He gave speeches about how he built his athletic career on survival instincts and practice.

Charlie couldn’t swim. His mother freaked out if he even ran and he sure hadn’t had a pool in the backyard. He wanted to swim. He’d spent the summer hanging out here on the beach watching the older kids paddleboarding and, lately, windsurfing. He’d had a ride on a paddleboard with someone else paddling. And he’d been wearing a life vest...

Charlie closed the laptop and went to Winnie’s bedroom. He knocked lightly on the door. There was no telling what was going on in there. It could be bathing, primping, reading or maybe Winnie was sleeping. “Come in,” his mother said.

He pushed open the door and saw that his mother had been giving Winnie a manicure. Winnie loved manicures. Winnie had become a good friend; they spent a lot of time on their laptops together, talking, figuring things out.

“You are never going to believe this,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “The new guy next door? He’s an Ironman!”

* * *

Blake arrived from Australia late at night. He’d slept on the plane so he was up for a few hours knowing that in the next couple of days jet lag would kick his ass. Then it would pass.

He was creaky and stiff. His body had become a little less responsive in the past few years. Things like prerace training and international travel were beginning to take their toll. And it was odd going home to his own house. It was his first. People wouldn’t guess that. He was almost forty and had never owned a home. Not even a condo or town house. He’d given the location a great deal of thought. He wanted to be near the ocean; he liked the cold of the Pacific. As a workout it was more taxing than warm water; the unforgiving nature of the ocean was more realistic than a lake or pool for training. He needed altitude training and he had that in Oregon. Everywhere he looked...mountains. He had seriously considered Boulder or Truckee but at the end of the day he liked this little spot. When he wasn’t racing he was training and when he wasn’t training, he was living. He could get his training done here. And while he might keep up with the training for life, he wasn’t going to race professionally forever. For living he wanted a quiet place that wasn’t overrun by professional athletes and Olympians. Shake a tree in Boulder or Truckee and ten Olympic contenders fell out.

He spent his first day unpacking, arranging his gym and doing a short workout to keep from stiffening up after a seventeen-hour plane ride. Then he drove into a larger town to the grocery store, rounding up his food. He stuck mostly to organic vegetables, legumes and grains, including quinoa. He ordered his supplements online. He wasn’t a vegetarian. For his purposes he found it served him best if he cooked up a little poultry or beef to add to his vegetables and grains. Cooper had suggested that if he got friendly with Cliff, who owned the seafood restaurant at the marina, he could get fresh fish, crab and other shellfish.

When he was training, which was almost year-round, he avoided or at least limited his favorite things—cheese, simple starchy carbs, the most flavorful fats like butter and cream. He limited his alcohol to the occasional beer. But when he was off-season and his training was moderate, when he was relaxing for a little while, he indulged. Not too much, of course, because no one was more disciplined. But a good, greasy pizza was the best thing in the world as far as he was concerned. And yes, he could make his own vegetarian with a gluten-free crust, but if he was indulging that wouldn’t do it. The way he grew up, he still longed for those things he couldn’t have and pizza and beer were a couple of those things.

His second day home he woke up too early, blended up one of his protein drinks, stretched out, dragged on a wet suit and hit the bay. It was eight-thirty but the sun wasn’t quite up, given all that sea fog, and the water felt icy. He didn’t know the exact distance across the bay but after a fifty-minute swim he’d have an idea. He had already measured a couple of cycling and running routes before making an offer on the house.

He loved the house. He’d looked at a hundred of them, at least, in a lot of places, including Hawaii. Hawaii was tempting; the lifestyle was alluring. But he thought most of his future work would be in the US, and while he didn’t mind travel, he’d like to be able to have a base less than ten hours away. If work took him to Chicago or New York or Los Angeles he could get home to Thunder Point in six hours or less. Boulder, being in the center of the country, was practical but wasn’t as tempting as this unpretentious little fishing village on the ocean. There was a house on Cape Cod he liked but the East Coast beyond the cape wasn’t as peaceful or traffic friendly as Oregon. He remembered asking Cooper, Doesn’t anyone know about this place yet? The freeways weren’t clogged, the air was clean, there were some wide-open spaces... When he was ten years old, the idea that he could live wherever he wished had never occurred to him. But then, when he was ten his most urgent concern was eating and staying warm.

He set the timer on his watch, walked into the water, dove, swam out past the haystack rocks and began swimming from end to end across the bay. When the timer went off he’d made seven trips across the bay—he judged the distance across the beach as slightly more than a quarter of a mile. Maybe four-tenths of a mile. He had a laser measuring tool and later he’d check to see how close he’d been, but even those devices weren’t perfect. By the time he exited the water, the sun was shining. He’d ride for a few hours today; tomorrow he’d go for a run. He’d do one test triathlon before the next competition, only one.

There was a kid sitting on the beach stairs to the house next door to his. He had a laptop balanced on his knees and wore black-framed glasses. Blake shook off the excess water and pulled off his hood and goggles. He walked up to the kid. “Hey,” he said, a little breathless.

“Hey,” the kid said. “You came in second in Sydney.”

Blake smiled. “I had a good race.”

“Your times were good but McGill beat you. He beats you pretty regular.”

“You stalking me, kid?”

“Nah, just looked you up. So, what made it a good race?”

“First, what’s your name?”

“I’m Charlie,” he said, sticking out a hand. And with one finger on the other hand he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie. I guess you know me already.”

“I asked Cooper who you were and he said you were racing in Australia and I looked you up.” He shrugged. “You have a pretty good record.”

“Thanks,” Blake said, raising a brow in question. In fact, he had a great record. “What else did you find out about me?”

“Well...you had to teach yourself to swim.”

“That’s right.”

“How’d you do that?”

“The same way I learned almost everything— survival. I fell in a pool. Or maybe I got pushed in, I can’t remember. And I couldn’t swim. Went down like a rock.”

“Did you have to get rescued?”

“Nope. It was in college and I was at a pool party. I don’t think anyone was paying attention. I held my breath and walked out. My lungs just about exploded.”

“You walked out?” Charlie asked, astonished.

“That was my only option at the time. I was an expert on depth because I couldn’t swim. Every time I was near a pool I made sure I knew where the shallow and deep ends where. I fell in the middle, eyeballed the shallow end and walked. It was slow. Nobody knows the depth and contour of a pool like a kid who can’t swim. Then I taught myself to swim because walking out in water over your head isn’t a good experience. I read about swimming, practiced it. I watched some video of little kids taking lessons.”

“That pool you walked out of wasn’t that big, I guess.”

“Any pool when you’re in over your head is big. After that I learned to tread water and then, since I knew nothing, teaching me to swim was kind of easy—there were no bad habits to unlearn.”

“They start you out with a life jacket?” Charlie asked.

“Nah, that’s not the best way to learn to swim. Best way to stay alive if you have an accident, though. Even experienced swimmers will wear flotation jackets under certain circumstances. The best way is to learn to respect the water, learn the moves, breathe right, understand buoyancy. They teach babies, you know. They don’t use any flotation devices. They teach them to hold their breath, fan the water, to kick, to roll over on their backs to breathe, to... Hey, you swim, right?”

Charlie shook his head.

“You live on a beach and don’t swim?”

He shook his head again. “I don’t live here. My mom works for Mrs. Banks. Since I come with her to work every day, I’m going to go to school here in town but we live... We live a few miles away.”

“And you don’t swim,” Blake said again.

Charlie shook his head. “That never came up before.”

Blake laughed. He understood that completely. “So, what’s up with Mrs. Banks?”

“ALS. She’s doing good. She’s not end stage,” Charlie said, as if he understood such things. “She still walks a little bit but never alone and my mom is optimistic. But she needs a nurse and it’s not my mom’s first ALS patient. I’m really sorry she has ALS but I think I’m going to like the school... Well, for as long as my mom works for Mrs. Banks.”

“Hopefully a long time,” Blake said.

“Yeah, for her sake, for sure. So what made it a good race? You got beat.”

“Gimme a break, will you? I came in second—that’s a damn good show. Like you said, McGill beats me regularly. This time, though, he announced his retirement.” Blake made a face. “Gonna really miss that guy.” Then he laughed. “Seriously, I had good times. I was close to my personal-best swimming and, in case you haven’t figured it out, that’s not my easiest sport. But I run like the wind.”

Charlie just grinned at him.

“I guess I better come next door and introduce myself to Mrs. Banks, huh? After I clean up, of course. What’s her schedule like?”

“After her nap, right before dinner, everyone is usually around. And she’s downright perky.”

“Everyone?” Blake asked.

“Well, Mrs. Banks’s daughter, Grace, and her husband, Troy, are there. And there’s Mikhail. He’s been hanging around ever since he found out Winnie has ALS. Mikhail used to be Grace’s coach. For, like, years. She’s a champion athlete, too. So you’re not the only one.”

“Is that so?” Blake asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Figure-skating gold medalist,” Charlie said. “A while ago, though. She retired.”

Blake frowned. The name “Grace” didn’t sound familiar at all.

“I guess she used to be called Izzy when she was skating.”

“Oh, Jesus, Izzy Banks?” he asked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“And her mother—Winnie Banks,” Charlie said. “Grace is like a second-generation champion.”

Now, what were the odds? Blake asked himself. Winnie and Izzy were famous mother/daughter skating icons. Winnie Banks had quit skating to marry her coach and they’d produced one of the best known women’s figure-skating champions in the world. “Unreal. What’s she doing now?”

“Well, she owns the flower shop and she’s having a baby,” Charlie said. “Troy is a high school teacher. And in that house there,” he said, pointing to the house between Winnie’s and Cooper’s, “Spencer and Devon live there. Spencer and Cooper have a son together.”

Blake’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? Two men?”

Charlie laughed. “Not like that. One of them is the dad and one is the stepdad or something like that. I can’t figure out which is which, but Austin’s mom died a couple of years ago. Now Spencer is married to Devon, and Cooper is married to Sarah. And Austin has two bedrooms.”

After all the house and community shopping Blake had done he’d managed to somehow land in a neighborhood where kids had moms, stepmoms, dads and stepdads, missing moms and so on. Where he grew up in Baltimore it was like that, but usually someone in the family was in jail and there sure weren’t any three-story houses on the beach or champion athletes hanging around. Just gang members, drug dealers, prostitutes and pimps. There were missing parents, dead parents and foster parents, kids raised by aunts, grandmothers and neighbors. Families of every creative invention, now that he thought of it. Back when he was a kid, you practically needed a chart to figure out who belonged with whom. He was always a little surprised when folks who could pay the rent had similar family trees.

No beach houses where he grew up, no, sir. He was raised to the age of thirteen in an urban tenement slum in a city that got so freaking cold in the winter he hung out with vagrants who built fires in trash cans under the tracks and bridges. From thirteen to sixteen he bounced around a lot while his mother tried to get her life together, but at least he went to school regularly. That turned out to be critical. An education was the thing that ultimately got him out of a neighborhood where a lot of young men and women lost track of their lives.

“What do you do on that computer besides research your neighbors?” Blake asked Charlie.

“I look up everything. Anything I can get for you?” he asked. And then he grinned the cutest grin.

Blake had a real soft spot for kids. All kids. But he didn’t worry too much about this type, the kind of kid who grew up in places like brand-new, pricey, three-story beach houses with famous retired athletes. He was more concerned about the kids who had tough, deprived childhoods. He’d been working on a project for the past several years meant to serve kids in need and he was nearly ready to unveil it as soon as he had a couple more corporate sponsors on board.

He liked Charlie right away. He felt privileged that he’d be seeing him around. “There is something you can do for me. I have to get on the bike and do at least fifty miles. Then home and clean up.” He looked at his watch. “Any time after one o’clock that your mother thinks is okay to come over and meet my neighbors, could you let me know?”

“Could be closer to dinnertime if you want to meet them all. Troy has been helping Grace at the shop.”

“I don’t want to impose on dinner—just a quick hello. I’m home the rest of the day,” Blake assured him.

* * *

It was not strictly required that Lin Su wear some kind of nurse’s uniform, but she wore clean scrubs every day just the same. For one thing, they were easy to move around in and her job sometimes found her on her hands and knees digging around beneath the bathroom sink or wiping up a kitchen floor. For another thing, scrubs were easily maintained and, if need be, replaced. And importantly, they identified her—even the UPS man at the door knew she was either on the job as a medic or worked somewhere nearby as medical personnel and was dressed in her work clothes.

As a home health care nurse, she could wear civilian clothes while tending patients like Winnie Banks, those who needed assistance and yet were not desperately ill. But when she tended patients in the end stages of diseases, which tended to be incredibly messy, her civilian clothes needed to be spared. After all, they were few and carefully chosen.

So it was all logical, her use of scrubs on the job. And when she opened the door to a very attractive man, they proved effective.

“So, you’re the nurse,” the man said. “Charlie said I could brave a visit, just to introduce myself and say hello. I’m Blake Smiley. Your neighbor.”

“Hello,” she said, more wide-eyed than she liked. He was just so damn handsome, it threw her. She’d caught glimpses of him when he was on the beach or on his deck next door, but up close he was shockingly beautiful. She was speechless.

“You are Lin Su. I asked Charlie, you see.”

“Ah! Yes, I’m Lin Su Simmons. Please. Come in.”

“Is it a convenient time to say hello to Mrs. Banks?”

“Come in! Come in!” Winnie called from the dining room table.

Lin Su stepped aside so that Blake could enter.

Winnie was sitting with Charlie at the dining table, both of them with their laptops open. Winnie closed hers and held out a hand toward him. “And how do you do, Mr. Smiley! Charlie told me you might be stopping by.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Banks,” he said, taking her hand.

“Will you sit for a moment?” she asked. “And now that the formal introductions are dispensed with, can we proceed as Winnie and Blake?”

“Nothing would please me more.”

“Charlie,” she said. “Fetch Mikhail from the deck.” Then she turned to Blake. “Very nice of you to make the effort to visit. It’s not easy for me to get around, as I’m sure Charlie told you.”

“He told me,” Blake said. “I’m so sorry to hear it. Lou Gehrig’s disease, how bloody awful for you. You look positively wonderful. How are you feeling?”

“Until I try to pick up a glass or stand, I feel just fine,” she said, adding a small head shake. “Speaking of glass, what can we get you?”

“Nothing at all, Mrs.... Winnie. I just wanted to meet you. I was shocked to hear two famous athletes were living next door.”

“Yes, but we’re not competing anymore,” Winnie said. “What in the world are you doing here in Thunder Point?”

“I’m still training, but I fell in love with the quiet of the place.” He glanced around. “If you can find a way to move this house to Boulder you can get three million for it.”

“I can’t believe the price was what attracted you,” she said.

“The town did, as a matter of fact. The size, the simplicity, the building around the bay. That’s a great place for me to swim. The hills and lowlands are great bike and running trails. The air is perfect.”

“What’s your next event?” Winnie asked.

“Tahoe,” Charlie answered for him, sitting down again.

“He seems to know as much about me as I do,” Blake said. He stood and extended a hand toward the short Russian coach who had come in from the deck. “How do you do, sir. I’m your neighbor, Blake.”

“An honor,” Mikhail said.

When everyone sat down to visit, Lin Su drifted off to the master bedroom. This was the time of day she put it right for later when Winnie would settle in for the night.

After a nap and a little refreshing, Winnie would spend some time in the living room or on the deck, have dinner with whoever happened to be around—sometimes the entire family, sometimes just Lin Su, Charlie and Mikhail. If Winnie’s daughter, Grace, wanted to help her settle in for the evening, Lin Su and Charlie would go home. Most nights Lin Su would stay for the evening ritual and then take herself and her son home.

Her present home wasn’t exactly a welcoming place. Lin Su and Charlie were renting a small fifth wheel that had been left behind at a rather scurvy trailer park, but it was completely adequate and she had gotten it antiseptic clean. This job with Winnie, while demanding, was also accommodating and paid well. Lin Su was working on a solution to that fifth wheel, but it had been all she could afford at the time—she’d been laid off from the hospital and bills had accrued while she was between jobs. There were also old loans like tuition, moving, some medical expenses that hadn’t been covered by employers. She finally had some savings but she didn’t dare touch it. She was very cautious and the most important thing in the world to her was that Charlie get a good education.

It was all working out, for now. It was Winnie, in fact, who had suggested Charlie come to work with her every day and therefore attend school in Thunder Point. Winnie’s son-in-law, Troy Headly, taught history there and Winnie’s next-door neighbor, Spencer Lawson, was the athletic director and football coach. She wouldn’t have to worry about Charlie being picked on by bigger, tougher kids, and for that she was so grateful.

She drew back the comforter and smoothed out the sheets—six hundred thread count—fluffed the pillows and made it inviting. She shook out and refolded the throw that Mikhail used when he slept in the big leather chair at Winnie’s bedside. He thought no one knew. That made her smile. Mikhail was so devoted, but he disappeared before Lin Su arrived in the morning so no one would know he was that protective. Lin Su dusted the room, removing the water glass from the bedside table, tidied the books and magazines Winnie kept nearby. The bathroom just needed a lick and a promise plus fresh towels and facecloths. Tomorrow she would change the sheets and wash some linens. She would love to sleep in such fine bedding but she wouldn’t trade places with Winnie for the moon.

By the time she returned to the kitchen and dining room, Grace and Troy had come home and there was a great deal of chatter. They had brought dinner from Carrie’s deli and Grace was putting out place mats.

“Please, won’t you stay?” Grace asked Blake. “I can assure you it’s healthy and nutritious. Carrie is very particular.”

But to the disappointment of all, Blake declined the invitation, heading home for some concoction of kale, squash, beef, chicken, quinoa, oil and... Lin Su might not have caught all the ingredients, but he was in training—there was another race in a month.

“Sounds delicious,” Grace said doubtfully.

“Sounds excruciating,” Winnie said, making everyone laugh.

Blake laughed with them. “After the next two races I’ll have a little downtime. I’ll exercise and eat well but the strict training and diet regimen is relaxed a little bit. I’ll eat and drink like a regular person,” he said with a grin.

“Well, when you’re done with the next race, I’m buying,” Troy said, lifting his beer in Blake’s direction.


Two (#ulink_98f2dfea-e355-5a0b-9ff2-9493bb3d9890)

The size of the Banks household had grown, if only slightly. Now there was a cleaning crew headed by a woman named Shauna Price. There were three women who swooped in twice a week and applied a devoted two hours to cleaning the house, top to bottom. They were friendly without having much to say, charged a lot, carried their own supplies with them and vanished without saying goodbye. Once a week Shauna dutifully asked Lin Su if everything was all right. She didn’t ask Winnie; Lin Su believed Winnie terrified her.

Three mornings a week from 10:00 to 10:45 a.m. Curtis Rhinehold appeared—the physical therapist. He put Winnie through a series of exercises meant to keep up her strength and balance, though whether it did any good was questionable. In his absence, Lin Su continued the exercises because it couldn’t hurt anything and maybe it would give her a little more time and function. Winnie grumbled and complained, though Lin Su was confident if she weren’t getting this attention her complaining might be worse.

The end of summer was pleasant; the weather was warm and dry. Lin Su was warned it was leading into a cold and wet and often windy winter on the bay. Charlie enjoyed his new Thunder Point friends and anticipated the start of school very hopefully. His buddy Frank Downy, an MIT sophomore who shared Charlie’s passion for online research, had headed back east to college in mid-August. Cooper’s young brother-in-law, Landon, had gone back to the University of Oregon to begin football practice at about the same time. With Thunder Point High School starting a new year, Spencer was knee-deep into his own football practice with his team, moaning and groaning about those young men taking a toll on his back and knees. Troy was busy preparing for classes when he wasn’t helping Grace in the flower shop or helping around the house. Charlie wasn’t bored for a second. He had Winnie and Mikhail and was very independent.

And now he had a new friend—the triathlete next door. Charlie saw Blake every day, sometimes just talking on the beach, sometimes hitting the volleyball around or working on his bicycle. One afternoon Lin Su saw Charlie hosing Blake’s deck while Blake scrubbed it with the bristle broom. On another warm and sunny afternoon Charlie took Blake for a hike along the ridge to show him the lookout where he’d see the migrating whales in another month or so.

Lin Su was happy Charlie had a friend, and a good male role model never hurt, but she’d rather Charlie be enamored of Troy or Spencer or even Cooper—nice, stable, married men. It would be a mistake for Charlie to think a man like Blake would take a place of permanence in his life. He was a little too free and easy for Lin Su’s tastes. And their situation—the job and the location—was temporary. With any luck it would stick for a while, but eventually they would have to move on.

They always had to move on.

For now, the job caring for Winnie Banks was ideal. Lin Su put in a lot of hours, but had long breaks during the day while Winnie napped or didn’t need her. And while she would try to play the role of employee and caregiver, always available but at a polite distance and not a member of the family or town, the family and town wouldn’t allow it. She’d been with Winnie since June and they were growing close. Winnie was even closer to Charlie; they’d become thicker than thieves. Lin Su and Charlie were drawn in and embraced; they dined together, visited, gossiped, even played games together.

Lin Su was trying to remember her place.

“I don’t want an agency nurse’s aide,” Winnie said. “Think about this. You take care of my bedding, help me bathe, escort me to the bathroom, help me dress—we are intimate, you and me. If you couldn’t fit in with this odd crew I now call family—a daughter, a teacher, an old coach—I would have to look for someone else. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”

Three women Lin Su’s approximate age who were good friends and bonded in many ways were also all showing very nice baby bumps by mid-August. Grace, Iris and Peyton. Iris Sileski was the high school guidance counselor and had sold Grace the flower shop—they’d been friends since the day Grace arrived in Thunder Point a couple of years before. Peyton Grant, the town physician’s assistant who had conveniently wed the physician, made regular visits to check on Winnie’s health as did her husband, Scott. It was only natural, then, that there would be small and regular gatherings of those three—sometimes at the end of the day, sometimes for lunch, sometimes morning coffee, sometimes dinner. They were all due to give birth just before Christmas.

When they gathered in or near Winnie’s house, if Lin Su wasn’t busy, they pressed her to join them. Winnie very much enjoyed having them around, and with Lin Su’s or Grace’s help, Winnie could even join them if they met at Cooper’s bar or in town at the restaurant. Winnie even enjoyed brief trips to the diner, something that made her daughter howl with laughter, accusing that it must have been Winnie’s first diner experience ever.

“True, if it were my diner, it would be decorated far differently and would look more like a salon, but this is fine for me,” she said, lifting her perfect nose slightly. “For now.”

Lin Su knew it wasn’t the diner that drew Winnie and definitely not the decor—it was the women closer to her own age who tended to meet there from time to time. There was Carrie from the deli whose daughter, Gina, managed the diner on the day shift. Carrie’s best friends, Lou, a teacher, and Ray Anne, a local Realtor, were known to meet there, as well. Winnie never asked to be taken to the diner on a whim but if one of the women called or stopped by to say they were meeting for coffee and pie Winnie might ask to go. Better still, if they were meeting at Cliffhanger’s for a glass of wine, she was sure to make the effort, even if she had to impose on Troy or Mikhail to take her, even if she had to rely on her wheelchair for the outing.

“I’ve never had girlfriends before,” Winnie whispered to Lin Su. “You have no idea what a different experience this is for me.”

But Lin Su did know. Her own mother, Marilyn Simmons, would never hang out with a gaggle of women in a small-town diner. Marilyn was her adoptive mother. Her biological mother hadn’t survived long after her exodus from Vietnam, thus Lin Su’s adoption by an affluent white American couple from Boston at the age of three. They liked to refer to it as a compassionate adoption. Marilyn, wife of Gordon Simmons, a well-known attorney, fancied herself something of a socialite. Her biological daughters attended the best boarding schools and universities while she served on charity boards, played bridge, golf, attended prestigious events, supported political campaigns and shopped. No, she had never been seen in a diner with ordinary women.

That was yet another thing about Thunder Point that Lin Su immediately appreciated—people gathered without deference to class or status or income. She knew that Winnie was financially comfortable; most of her home health care patients had been. If they could afford to pay a salary and benefits to a private nurse, they had planned well. And Winnie did look fancier than the town women she’d meet for a coffee or a drink, but the women didn’t treat one another differently.

Lin Su would be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to fall into familiarity and camaraderie with all of these women—the younger pregnant ones, the older ones she found to be settled and sage. But she was trying to maintain that professional distance that would ensure her job was safe and keep her from being disappointed when the day came that someone reminded her she was a servant. A well-educated and highly trained servant, but still...

Her biggest challenge of all was the triathlete next door. He frightened and intrigued her. He didn’t frighten her because there was anything wrong with him. Indeed, everything seemed too right. He reminded her of the young man she’d loved when she was in high school. The young man who had played rugby, graduated with honors, had a fancy family name and dated Lin Su for months. His parents were friendly with hers; Marilyn Simmons greatly admired the boy’s mother and was thrilled that they were dating. She whispered that it spoke well of them that they could accept an Asian girl as their son’s choice.

But when she had told him she was pregnant, he had said, “Sorry, baby, but I’m going to Princeton.”

She was standing on the deck with Winnie when she heard talking and laughter coming from the house next door, but there was no one on the deck. Winnie was sitting at the outdoor table enjoying the sunshine while she played solitaire to try to keep her fingers nimble. Lin Su looked over the deck rail and saw that Charlie was balanced atop one of Blake’s bikes while Blake appeared to be tightening something on the wheel. Then Blake stood up and Charlie took off down the beach road.

Like a bat out of hell.

Lin Su gasped. Her son flew on that bike. Flew as though he was racing!

“Winnie, will you be all right for a moment? I should talk to Mr. Smiley about Charlie riding.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m not going anyplace.”

“I’ll be right back,” Lin Su said, heading for the stairs to the beach. By the time she got to where Blake stood on the road, Charlie was out of sight across the beach.

“Mr. Smiley, it’s so nice of you to let Charlie have a turn on your bicycle. But maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

“It’s Blake. And why is that, Lin Su?”

“For one thing, it’s a very expensive bicycle. At least, that’s what Charlie tells me.”

“It is. It’s not my primary bike.” He tossed a tool in his open toolbox. “He’s safe. He’s wearing a helmet. We talked about the rules of the road and he understands.”

“Did Charlie happen to mention—he has asthma?”

“No. Is he on medication?”

“Yes.”

“Does he have an inhaler?”

“He’s supposed to have it with him at all times. And sometimes exertion brings on his asthma.”

Blake gave a little shrug. “Then if he gets winded, I guess he’ll stop.”

“Where is he going?”

“I have no idea, Lin Su. I told him not to be gone long. He really likes that bike. He’ll probably ride around awhile.”

“He could get too far away!” she said.

Blake wiped his hands on a rag and contemplated her. “He’s a big boy. He knows how to manage his asthma, doesn’t he?”

“Sometimes he’s not as careful as he should be!” she said emphatically.

Blake dropped a casual arm over her shoulders and turned her in the direction of the town across the bay. He pointed. “See that building over there?”

“Which building?” she asked.

“The one that says Clinic on the sign. If he has an asthma attack, this is a good place to have one. But I bet he doesn’t. You know why? Because I bet he doesn’t like asthma much and he’s fourteen—it probably embarrasses him. Don’t worry. In a few minutes he’ll either come riding across the beach at breakneck speed or he’ll be flushed and walking the bike.”

“You’re a little too casual about this for my tastes, Mr. Smiley. You don’t seem to understand how difficult something like this can be. And I’m the parent here—I’m a nurse, a mother and very well acquainted with Charlie’s condition.”

He took a deep breath and frowned. “Lin Su, my name is Blake not Mr. Smiley. As far as I know there is no Mr. Smiley. And I take things like this very seriously. At the end of the day it could be more beneficial to Charlie to have respect for the asthma, work with it, refuse to let it stop him and get to know his body if he doesn’t already. Being overprotective isn’t going to help. Knowledge helps. Fear doesn’t.”

Lin Su felt her hackles rise. She wanted to take him down. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Fantastic little lecture, Mr. Smiley. You should do a TED Talk someday. You have no idea what it was like sitting up through the night when he was three years old, doing breathing treatments every couple of hours, holding him while he strained to get a breath, watching him get that blue tinge, putting him in the ambulance. He has to be cautious!”

She saw what clearly looked like sympathy come into his gaze. “You must have been terrified,” he said. “The good news is, he isn’t three anymore.”

Lin Su’s anger grew even though Blake’s voice was gentle.

“Ah, there he is,” Blake said. “He’s really moving.”

Charlie was speeding, head down, peddling madly. He slowed as he came upon them, his grin wide as the sky. He had his mother’s perfect, straight white teeth.

“That was awesome,” he said to Blake. He was huffing and puffing a little. “Mom, what are you doing here? Winnie all right?”

“She’s fine. Are you having trouble catching your breath?” Lin Su asked.

“I’m winded,” he said. “I rode hard. Not long, though. I’ll be fine in a second.”

“Do you need your inhaler?”

“Mom,” he said. “I’m fine.” But then he coughed.

“Charlie, I don’t want you...”

“Charlie, do you have any major plans for that laptop of yours for tonight?” Blake asked, cutting her off.

Charlie shrugged. “No, why?”

“I think you should research famous athletes with asthma,” Blake said. “You’ll run across some familiar names and get some good ideas.”

* * *

Charlie coughed on and off through the rest of the afternoon and because of that Grace offered to settle her mother in for the night so Lin Su could take her son home. On the way home she lightly berated him. “You shouldn’t have taken the hard ride. A long walk or a ride on a paddleboard is one thing—a burst of exercise could haunt you.”

“It’s not an asthma attack. Trust me, I’d know.” He coughed again. “It’ll pass.”

“We’ll do a breathing treatment,” she said.

“I’ll do it,” Charlie said. “I just wish you liked him. Because he’s a good guy.”

“Mr. Smiley?” she asked, though of course she knew. “I like him fine. He was being very neighborly, loaning you the bike for a ride. But he didn’t know about the asthma. That’s your responsibility, Charlie.”

“Then let me have it,” he said tersely.

Mr. Smiley, she found herself thinking, is going to be a problem. He was encouraging this free thinking, letting Charlie learn from his consequences, and he didn’t understand that in Charlie’s case the consequences could be fatal.

Well, probably not, she relented. Worst case, a manageable asthma attack, relieved by a nebulizer and maybe some oxygen. But she was suddenly desperate that Charlie listen first to her.

“It’s not going to kill me, you know,” Charlie said as if reading her mind. “Sometimes I have a little breathing thing, not very often. I haven’t had one of these in a long time.”

“May,” she said. “When everything was in bloom. And it got a little dicey.”

“Because it turned into a cold. This could be just a cold, you know. I felt a little stuffy before I took the bike out.”

Lin Su said nothing as she drove. But she counted his coughs, which had become deep and gravelly. He wasn’t wheezing. Yet. They were almost home when she said, “I don’t appreciate your attitude toward me, as if I’m somehow punishing you. I’m going to make you some soup while you take a hot shower with lots of steam. Then you come out, eat soup and give the water heater time to heat up again and get back in the steam. After that we’ll do a breathing treatment. How many times have you used the inhaler?”

“Just twice.”

“Let’s see if we can nip this in the bud, okay, Charlie?”

He nodded. “Sorry, Mom. The bike was so awesome.”

“I know, honey.” She wanted to carry on about the use of some discretion to keep this asthma in check but she knew he’d heard enough. And maybe Mr. Smiley was partially right—he might learn more this way, from the consequences, than from her harping. He’d heard it all before. But damned if she’d ever admit that.

They carried out the plan—shower, soup, shower, treatment. After all that, he started to sniff a little and she hoped it was a little cold rather than an attack, even though that presented a different set of problems. If these symptoms persisted it would be wrong to take him back to Winnie’s. She shouldn’t be exposed to germs if it could be avoided. With all the people in and through Winnie’s house it was risky enough—her nurse couldn’t bring a known virus into the patient’s home.

Then she had a slightly evil thought. It would serve him right to have to spend a day at home as a result of his less than responsible actions, even though she knew it wasn’t possible for a bike ride to bring on a cold. He should learn to listen to her. So you want it to be a cold, Charlie, and not your overtaxed weak lungs—a cold, it is. And you have to stay home. Away from your playmates for a day.

Lin Su heard every cough through the night. It wasn’t too bad—it wasn’t getting worse, he had no fever, it was a productive cough and he wasn’t wheezing. She gave him another breathing treatment first thing in the morning, checked his temperature, then double-checked with her lips on his forehead. “I think you’re going to be fine. But it’s the responsible thing to leave you home today. I don’t want Winnie and the rest of the family to hear that coughing and get anxious about germs. You understand.”

“Yeah, okay. But will you please tell everyone I’m fine? That I’m not having any kind of attack or anything?”

“Of course. I’ll explain it’s just a precaution for Winnie’s health in case you’re coming down with a cold. Will that do?”

“Yeah. It’s just that... If Blake thinks the bike did it, he’ll never let me try it out again.”

Lin Su doubted that. Actually, she feared that. Blake was coming across as a challenge, as the guy who wanted to let Charlie be a man about it. Her poor little bubble boy—she wouldn’t want to have to live like that, either. But God, what if something terrible happened? And it could—his fragile lungs, his intense allergies, his stressed immune system... “Of course we’ll play the cold card here. And if you get another chance on that bike or any bike, let’s decide here and now that you’re not going to check it for maximum speed. Can we agree to that?”

“That bike is so slick, Mom. No wonder it cost a billion dollars!”

Lin Su sat on the edge of his bed. “Charlie, your health has been good lately. Keep it so. Build up some stamina, get strong, live long. Use that remarkable brain of yours to get ahead and buy a dozen billion-dollar bicycles when you’ve overcome the worst of this. But go slow.”

He grinned. “You just want me to live a long time so you have some rich guy to take care of you in your old age.”

“I’m counting on it,” she said. “I’ll text and call. Try to take it easy today. I’m sure by tomorrow you’ll be fine.”

This was the lot of a single mother—making a choice between her job, which was vital, and her sick child, the core of her being. If he were younger than fourteen she might have asked one of the elderly neighbors to watch him or at least check on him, but at fourteen Charlie would be offended. Hell, at eleven he was offended! He knew the rules, he was responsible. Still...she wanted to be near...

* * *

Blake suited up for his swim, grateful that the sun was shining brightly on the bay even though it was early, mindful of the fact that the water was still going to be freezing cold. He put in his hour and was surprised Charlie wasn’t waiting on the steps for him to get out of the water. It briefly crossed his mind that his mother was keeping him away from Blake, the troublemaker with the tempting bike.

He had planned a long run for today but he switched out his plan—he took the bike on a long ride instead. The riding speed was going to be crucial in the upcoming race. When he got back, there was still no sign of Charlie and there was no one out on the deck at Winnie’s house. Not even Winnie and her nurse.

Lin Su. The first time he saw her he had actually felt his breath catch. All he could see of her was that she was small, wore scrubs and had black hair twisted into some kind of bun. She had laughed with Winnie and Grace, and even though it was at some distance he could see she was beautiful.

Lin Su was intriguing and now, unfortunately, she appeared to be a little angry with him. He wouldn’t necessarily do things differently with Charlie and the bike. He might’ve asked him if it would be all right with his mother or, had he known about the asthma, he might’ve suggested he go easy. Then again, he might not. Blake was no expert, but boys that age needed to find their own limits.

Charlie was nowhere in sight.

By the time Blake had showered and put on clean clothes, there were people on Winnie’s deck. Troy and Mikhail and Winnie were sitting at the outside table. He went downstairs inside his own house, out through the patio doors of his lower level and next door to walk up the outside stairs to Winnie’s deck.

“Incoming,” he hollered, walking up the last few steps.

“Hey, man,” Troy said, standing. “Come on up. How’s it going?”

“Good. I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

“We’re just getting ready to wax Winnie in bridge,” Troy said. “Bridge because she won’t play poker.”

“You’re not at school today?” Blake asked Troy.

“I was there this morning and will help Grace at the shop this afternoon. Not much more summer left. You play bridge?”

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “I was wondering about Charlie. I think this is the first day since I moved in that I haven’t seen him hanging around.”

At that moment Lin Su came onto the deck with a tray of drinks—two cups of tea and two tall glasses of something. One of the cups had a straw in it for Winnie. “He stayed home today,” she said in answer to the question. “He might be coming down with a cold and we’re diligent about keeping germs out of here when we can for Winnie’s sake.”

“It took a lot more than a cold to take me down,” Winnie said.

“A cold wouldn’t help you, however. Can I get you something to drink, Blake?” she asked.

He was ridiculously pleased that she used his first name. He could feel his smile grow to an almost silly width. “No, thank you. I just finished a ride. I hope that cold wasn’t because...you know...”

She put the tray on the table. “He’s had a good summer. An asthma episode can’t bring on a cold but a cold can weaken his resistance to asthma. He seems to be fine—just some congestion and a cough.” She pulled up a chair for Blake and then took one herself, passing out the drinks. “Exercise-induced asthma is probably to be expected since he has a history, but I’ll tell you what’s frightening—when a big attack comes on for no apparent reason. That hasn’t happened in a long time.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’ll leave him home till he’s completely over it.”

“I apologize if the bike brought it on. I had no idea...”

“Of course you didn’t,” Winnie said. “Charlie should have mentioned it. I suspect he wanted to get on that bike so badly he wouldn’t dare risk it. He’s been lusting after your bike since he first laid eyes on it.”

“That’s the worst thing about being fourteen,” Blake said. “Doing all the things you’re supposed to do.”

“I’ll be happy if he learned something. He can have a completely normal life as long as he’s careful.”

And listens to his mother, Blake thought. There were some teenage boys to whom that was a luxury. They couldn’t always be careful.

“Will you promise to stay if we deal?” Winnie asked Blake.

“If I’m not imposing,” he said.

“Not at all. I enjoy having you drop by. By the way, when is the next big race?”

“Three weeks, in Tahoe. I’ll go a week early to train in the mountains there, to get acclimated. My trainer will come here first. We’ll do a trial run, then go to Tahoe together to get ready.”

“Where is your trainer now?” Troy asked.

“She’s in Boulder, her home base. She’s an exercise physiologist. Well, she’s a PhD in physiology, not an ordinary trainer. She’s a partner in an athletic training facility and I’m not the only client by a long shot. Sometimes she’ll send a colleague. Babysitter, that’s all—I have my own degree and have been doing this for a long time. But there’s no substitute for a trainer who challenges the protocol, pushes at the edges of the envelope and generally provides data on the competition that can be useful. She’s a little bit like a manager—sending me daily reports on the results of events from all over the world and making recommendations based on training studies.”

It was quiet around the bridge table. “Sounds a lot more complicated than I thought,” Lin Su said.

“Is complicated,” Mikhail said. “Grace was my full-time job for nine years. You have this trainer part-time?” he asked Blake.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I admit a trainer is beneficial and even necessary, but I’m pigheaded and don’t like a lot of interference. I also don’t like to be too crowded. So, who’s the bridge favorite at this table?”

“Once it was me,” Winnie said. “Then I hired a nurse from Boston. On top of that, I might drop my cards at any moment.”

“My adoptive mother played a lot of bridge. I learned young so I could sit in if they needed a fourth. I shouldn’t play so well—I think my job is at risk,” Lin Su said.

“Is a competitive table,” Mikhail said. “It will anger Winnie if you win. It will anger her if you don’t play well. You are doomed.”

The cards were dealt, but before anyone could pick them up, Lin Su’s phone chimed in her pocket. “Excuse me please, Charlie is checking in.”

Surprise immediately came over her features and she stiffened into a posture of fear. “Your EpiPen? How could you...? Okay, don’t talk too much...The oxygen? Did you call 9-1-1?...Okay, stay on the line, I’ll get them.” She looked at Winnie for just a second. “Charlie can’t breathe. I’m going. Will you be all right?”

“Mikhail and Troy will be here,” she said. “Just go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Blake said.

“I’ve got this,” Lin Su said, turning and running into the house. She pulled her purse out of the kitchen pantry and was on the move.

Blake stayed with her. When she got to the garage and was heading down the drive to her car he caught her. “I’ll drive you,” he said. “You can deal with your phone while I drive. I’m calmer and faster.”

She gave it about one second of thought. “Do you have your phone?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and traded his phone for her keys and they got in. She gave him the beginning of the directions, out of Thunder Point, headed toward south Bandon and Coquille, then she told Charlie to stay calm, stay on the line; she was on her way. She placed the 9-1-1 call and said she needed medical assistance immediately. She explained her son’s condition and even recommended drugs that had been effective before—epinephrine, corticosteroids and magnesium sulfate. She said something very soft to Charlie, then went back to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I don’t know what happened. He was fine this morning—no wheezing, no symptoms—and now he can’t explain because he can’t talk... I’m a nurse. I’m on my way, I might beat you there... Yes, he had an EpiPen and when I asked about it he just said ‘lost.’ That isn’t like Charlie... Yes, I’m coming, Charlie...”

She had a phone to each ear, would stop briefly and say “next left” or “right at the light.”

Blake was cautious but fast. He wouldn’t mind if he picked up a cop who pursued them. In ten minutes’ time he was in a very different part of town—it looked like an industrial area full of storage units and fenced-off areas where big road maintenance and construction equipment were parked. They passed a poor excuse for a strip mall—a convenience store, bar, motel. They drove a little farther, past some run-down apartment buildings and trashy neighborhoods. The sight of rough-looking people—teenagers and adults—just hanging out brought a flood of memories back to Blake.

Lin Su spoke to the 9-1-1 operator in a normal voice but alternately murmured to Charlie, instructing him to remain calm, take even breaths. Her foot on the floorboard of the car tapped wildly but her hands were steady.

“This is it,” Lin Su said. “Right turn, sixth trailer in. Oh, God, they’re there! I never heard sirens!”

Paramedics had just arrived. Blake was pulling up as one of them used a crowbar on the trailer door. It popped open like an old tin can. He parked Lin Su’s car at the front of the trailer so the paramedics would have an unrestricted exit if they took Charlie to the hospital. Lin Su was out of the car and running to her trailer before the car was entirely stopped.

It was then that Blake looked around. There was an old man with a rake in his hand standing between a fairly decent trailer and Lin Su’s extremely small fifth wheel. He held the rake, though there didn’t appear to be anything to rake; it could have been his idea of a weapon. Across from his trailer there were three young men—boys—standing around the back of a truck that was up on blocks. They looked scary, wearing their pants very low on their hips, sporting tattoos and chains, hair scraggly and unkempt, torn T-shirts. He didn’t see any gang colors but they weren’t Sunday school escapees. There were mobile homes and trailers of every variety, all parked within a perimeter of trees on a dirt patch, no grass. There was one small building—a brick structure that could be a public bathroom or laundry facility—and it was covered with graffiti.

A police car entered the park slowly and stopped near the fire rig, and closely following the police car was an ambulance. Two EMTs got out and pulled out a gurney, moving to the trailer. They stayed outside as if waiting for instructions to transport, so Blake did three things. First, he gave the three thugs the stink eye. Then he went to the officer’s car and asked where he might find the hardware to close up and lock that trailer. It was that action that finally seemed to persuade the thugs to wander off. He was given directions to the nearest store. Finally he went to the doorway of the trailer and looked inside.

Lin Su was kneeling on one side of Charlie while two paramedics administered oxygen and managed an IV bag on the other. Charlie was between his mother and the paramedics, eyes closed, fingers twitching a little bit. He looked gray.

Blake tried to stay out of the way for the time being. It was about twenty minutes before the gurney went into the small trailer and came out again with Charlie on it. He appeared to be sleeping; perhaps he’d been sedated. Lin Su followed the gurney outside.

“Is he going to be all right?” Blake asked.

“I think so,” she said. “They’re going to take him to the hospital in Bandon, and if he doesn’t improve right away, they’ll move him to Pacific Hospital, closer to North Bend.”

“Go with him,” Blake said. “I’m going to see if I can close up your trailer. I’ll bring your car and meet you there. Let me see the phones, please?” She dug around in her purse and handed them over. He quickly punched his number into hers and handed it to her. “If his condition or location changes, give me a call, will you? I’ll see you at the hospital as soon as I can get some kind of a lock on this door.”

She looked at him in complete gratitude. Her eyes welled with tears. “Thank you,” she said so softly he barely heard her.

“No crying now,” he said. “It’s going to be all right. Just stay with Charlie.”


Three (#ulink_93da863f-b228-572b-b7fe-85d65ac4f356)

Closing up that little trailer turned out to be far less complicated than Blake had expected. The elderly man with the rake informed Blake that he had tools he could loan and together they fixed a padlock onto the mangled door. During that exercise Blake had seen a little bit of the inside of the trailer. It was cozy and compact—a bed that folded out when a table was lifted up, a galley kitchen, a bedroom with a small double bed that took up almost the whole room, a little bath with shower.

Right in the middle of what would serve as kitchen/living room/bedroom, right where he supposed Charlie had collapsed and paramedics tended him, things were messy and awry. The table was pushed up, the bed/bench shoved back, tracks of dirt on the floor, clutter left behind from opening packages of gloves, wipes and syringes. Everything else was shining clean, tidy and spare.

It wasn’t much of a house for a woman and teenage boy. It was so small, leaving little room for belongings. He spied Charlie’s backpack with his laptop in it and scooped it up to take to the hospital with him just in case Charlie didn’t come home that night. It was a mean little shelter in a crappy trailer park and it stung Blake. He didn’t like thinking of Lin Su and Charlie living here when “here” was actually so much better than how Blake and his mother had lived. They’d lived with rats, for God’s sake. Rats and gang members and drug dealers.

He took the backpack and closed up the trailer. By the time he got to the hospital it was growing dark. He walked into the emergency room and asked about Charlie Simmons, and who should walk out of the exam area but Scott Grant, Thunder Point’s doctor.

“Well, hey there,” Scott said, sticking out a hand. “Lin Su said you’d be bringing her car over.”

“And I spotted this,” Blake said, slipping one arm through the backpack strap and presenting his hand for a shake. “How is he?”

“He’s going to be fine but I’m keeping him overnight just to be safe. Besides, he’s weak—an asthma attack takes a lot out of a person. And he was sedated, as well.”

“What happened?” Blake asked. “He was good the last time Lin Su checked with him.”

Scott leaned a hip on the counter. “I haven’t heard the whole story yet, but I think he got chased by some bigger kids from the neighborhood. He said he went to the drugstore to get a refill on his meds. They know him there. But he ran into a problem and got chased all over hell and gone—at least a mile—and he was already struggling a little bit, thus the reason for the refill. Shit like that used to happen to me—I was a little kid in glasses. But I didn’t have asthma. I think going to school in Thunder Point will be easier on him—lot of people to look out for him there. Like Troy. Spencer.”

“Right,” Blake said. “Except they’re not just big kids from the neighborhood. I saw a few of them hanging around, waiting to see what the cops and paramedics did. They’re not your run-of-the-mill bullies. I didn’t see gang colors but I talked to the cop—they’re local hoods, all tatted up, using, holding, selling. The look of longing on their faces might’ve been for the drugs in the paramedics bags. If they chased him I bet they thought he had money in his pocket.”

Scott’s expression darkened. “Is that right?”

Blake lowered his voice and leaned closer to Scott. “It’s a rough neighborhood,” he said quietly. “I grew up around guys like them.”

“You think Charlie was in real danger?”

Blake raised a brow. “He’s in the hospital.”

“Yeah, there’s that. Think they might’ve beat him up or something if they’d caught up with him?”

“No telling. Maybe. Or they might’ve turned him upside down and shook the money out of his pockets. The paramedics used a crowbar on the trailer door so a neighbor and I bolted a padlock to it but... Listen, I’ve got a couple of spare rooms not in use and I’m leaving town in a couple of weeks for a race. I know the price is right on that trailer, but you think it’s possible there’s something around Thunder Point that might fit Lin Su’s budget that we could...”

“We’ll be fine,” Lin Su said, sneaking up on them and cutting him off. “I’ve been looking. I just haven’t had much time. If Winnie is stable and Charlie is going to school in Thunder Point, I mean to find something closer.”

“Good idea,” Scott said. “If for no other reason than you’re too far away if Charlie needs you. If you wouldn’t take offense, we can get our friends looking.”

“Can we talk more about this later?”

“Absolutely,” Scott said. “But...”

“Until something pops up, we can manage,” she insisted.

“Are you going to spend the night here with Charlie?” Blake asked. “Or would you prefer a guest room? I’m sure Winnie has one but so do I—my trainer doesn’t arrive for another week.”

“I’ll be staying here tonight. He’s being admitted,” Lin Su said. “I’ll find a corner to tuck into in case he needs me. Once Charlie is settled in his room I’ll drive you home.”

“I’ll take him,” Scott said. “I’ll be leaving in another half hour, provided no emergencies come in. Charlie’s stable. I just want to do some charting and look in on him one more time, but with you sitting watch I’m not concerned.”

“I’ll call Grace and let her know that Charlie’s going to be fine and they should call the home health care registry to get a substitute for me for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready to go in a little while, Blake,” Scott said. Then he went back behind the counter and got on the computer to write his patient notes.

“Can I have a word with you, please?” Blake asked Lin Su.

“Of course,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Can we step outside for just a moment?” he asked. He swung an arm for her to precede him, leaving no room for discussion.

Right outside and a bit to the left of the emergency room entrance was a small courtyard with concrete benches and some potted plants. There were a couple of trash cans and a perimeter of trees. And, fortuitously, no people at the moment.

He faced her. “Your neighbor and I put a padlock on the door of the trailer. I have the key here with your car keys,” he said. “But you’re going to have a problem locking it from the inside, Lin Su. For that matter, that little padlock isn’t going to keep your possessions safe from some of your neighbors if they...”

“It’s not a fancy neighborhood, Mr. Smiley, but we know our neighbors and keep an eye on one another. Regardless of how it looks, they’re not all bad.”

“Mr. Smiley? We’re back to that, are we? Listen to me—for the most part, the folks in that park are decent and neighborly. Your neighbor helped me secure the trailer. He made a point of telling me he looks out for you and Charlie.”

“We’re completely safe,” she said. “Mr. Chester...”

“Is eighty-four and his weapon is a rake. I’m sure you’re on a budget—raising a teenage son can be a strain on the pocketbook. But there will be rentals in Thunder Point that fit your needs. Given the circumstances, stay at my house for a week or so while you look at available property and...”

“Try not to be offensive, Mr. Smiley. I know we don’t live as well as you but we don’t need charity.”

“For God’s sake, Lin Su, I know more about being poor than you’ll ever learn and I’ve been cursed with more pride than even you. Winnie depends on you and doesn’t want another caregiver. Charlie is going to school in town—it starts in less than a week. I like the kid—he’s amazing, so clearly you are a good mother in every way. Now here are the facts—I have five empty bedrooms next door to your patient. Until you can find your own place, you should take advantage of the invitation for a number of practical reasons. The most important reason is that I saw those thugs who shook Charlie down for the money in his pocket and that could happen again.”

The startled expression on her face made him smile.

“I knew it,” he said. “He was alone, headed for the store. They marked him.”

“Mr. Smiley, I hope you understand that I find this inquisition very embarrassing and have concerns about how my employer might regard me after hearing all this.”

“Then we won’t mention it, and if you want to, you can pay rent. But what would be better for me is if you’d just move some things into the loft—a room for you and one for Charlie, your own bathroom. And cook your own food—I’m on a training diet. Ask your friends and neighbors to keep an ear to the ground for available space. No one cares if you live frugally—it’s a virtue. Hell, I haven’t had my own house in my entire life till a few weeks ago—I’m an expert at cutting out the fat and saving money. But after your kid gets hurt because he’s not safe alone there, you have to go to plan B. I’m offering you plan B. Because I like Charlie. You? You get on my nerves. So don’t play the stereo loud.”

She made a small smile. “You don’t like me?” she asked.

“Not that much,” he said. “I like the kid—he’s smart. I like him even more now that I know he’s fighting asthma and an overprotective mother.”

“I should probably question this interest you have in my son,” she said.

“Question your son. He’s an open book, says exactly what’s on his mind. And I knew you for five minutes when I believed you’d covered every subject imaginable with your son—warning him off creeps and predators. Since he was three, I bet.”

He stopped talking for a moment, put his hands in his pockets and looked down. He quietly added, “I work with a lot of kids. Sports training, encouragement, that sort of thing. It’s a well-known fact. It’s very well documented. I didn’t have any of that when I was a kid and I don’t have kids so...” He shrugged.

“So, we about ready to go?” Scott Grant asked, briskly walking out to the courtyard from the hospital. “Lin Su, Charlie is going to his room in about ten minutes. He has responded to medication. I’ll check him in the morning...probably early since I have clinic in town tomorrow. I’ll discharge him then. So? Ready, Blake?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Mr. Smiley? My keys? The backpack?” Lin Su asked.

“Oh. Sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow sometime. I hope you have a good night.”

“I know the staff here,” she said. “I’ve worked with a lot of them. They’ll fix me up with something.”

* * *

On the drive back to Thunder Point Blake asked Scott how well he knew Lin Su.

“Very well. I’ve worked with her for a couple of years. She specializes in home health care, and in the past two years she’s had three patients in end stage cancer and was assisted by an excellent hospice team. When she didn’t have full-time patients she worked at any one of the local hospitals. She’s an outstanding nurse and her ethics are unimpeachable. I know that she moved from the East Coast to Oregon for Charlie’s health—this is a better area for asthma—and attended nursing college in Oregon when Charlie was small. I think she’s been a licensed RN for about ten years.”

“What about her personal life, home life. Does she date? Have family?”

“Why? Are you interested in Lin Su?”

In fact, he could be, but that wasn’t why he had asked. “I’m concerned about Charlie running into trouble again. Both of them, for that matter. Her neighborhood is overrun by thugs. It seems to be a combination of elderly and real rough characters.”

“She lives in a mobile-home park, do I have that right?” Scott asked.

“Let me ask you something—do you consider yourself her friend?”

“We don’t exactly socialize, if that’s what you mean. But she’s friendly with the Bandon hospital staff and since she’s been in Thunder Point some of the other women, including my wife, have gotten to know her a little more on the social side. I trust her. Yes, I would consider her a friend. What are you getting at?”

“‘Mobile-home park’ is putting a dress on a pig—it’s a dump. It’s not that it’s poor, though it is. It’s the whole landscape—down the street from a bar, a no-tell motel and a convenience store that seems to be a clubhouse for hoods. I’ve offered her a couple of bedrooms while she looks for something closer but she’s very suspicious of me.”

“Why would she be?” Scott asked.

“My own damn fault. I befriended her son and I’m pretty sure I came across as critical of her overprotectiveness. Do you think you can come up with something in Thunder Point that’s cheap but decent? Obviously she’s very proud.”

“We have a sketchy neighborhood or two,” Scott said. “For that matter, we’ve had some pretty severe bullying issues the past couple of years. The school personnel and sheriff’s department are all over it, but I’m just saying—changing neighborhoods doesn’t solve all the problems.”

“It can reduce them by half,” Blake said. “Trust me.”

“So, what is it you think I can do?” Scott asked.

“I think you, given your familiarity with the town and your influence with friends and neighbors, can find her something without shaming her in the process. I’d be willing to try but I already offered her space and she didn’t go for it.”

“And I offered to enlist the help of friends in looking around for her and she put me off,” Scott said.

Blake leveled a stare on him. “Do it, anyway.”

* * *

Charlie rested comfortably but Lin Su didn’t. Her heart was heavy and her mind troubled. She had devised the plan to keep him home from Winnie’s and the beach as a punishment for not following her rules. She could justify it, of course—he was coughing and he shouldn’t be around Winnie. But she knew it was manageable, not likely to be a virus and she thought it might cause him to be more careful in the future.

What had Blake meant when he said he knew more about being poor than she would ever learn? Did he have some twisted hope of comforting her by admitting he had come from modest roots? All that statement really meant to her was that he had taken note of their impoverished living conditions. He must certainly wonder—nurses, especially home health care nurses, were well paid. The problem was that Lin Su wasn’t able to work twelve months a year. When she was finished with one patient it might be weeks or months until she had another full-time charge. And in those periods in between, the hospitals weren’t always hiring.

At the end of the day she still did better in home health care than in a clinic or hospital, but it wasn’t enough to pay all the bills and create a family home for herself and Charlie. Charlie had stopped having daytime babysitters only three years ago; babysitting and day care were mighty expensive. She was nearly finished with her college loans and the five-year-old car would be paid for in another year—those two items would add significant cash flow. And the fact that Winnie was providing her a premium health care package worth eight hundred dollars a month was a godsend. Otherwise, Charlie’s one night in the hospital would cost her the earth! The best insurance Lin Su could afford had a high deductible and poor coverage.

In short, no matter how you looked at her finances, money was tight. Yet she made too much money to qualify for assistance. County or state assistance was a double-edged sword—it made her feel ashamed to accept it and deprived when she no longer qualified.

It was on nights like this that she spent wakeful hours thinking about the strange journey her life had taken.

Lin Su’s adoptive parents insisted it was not possible for her to remember her early childhood, but that was merely their denial. She remembered some things vividly. She lived with her mother and several other Vietnamese immigrants in the Bronx in an apartment that was so small they literally slept on top of one another. Lin Su’s mother was born in 1965, the daughter of a Vietnamese woman and an American GI, that’s how she managed entry into the United States when she immigrated. A church sponsored many refugees, Lin Su’s mother among them. Lin Su was born in America, her American father unknown. Lin Su’s mother, Nhuong Ng, moved from a refugee camp to New York. And after three years of that, her health failing, she gave Lin Su into adoption.

But Lin Su remembered her mother. At least snippets of her—young, beautiful, sweet. She remembered playing with other children in their small rooms. She remembered her mother’s singing and crying. There was a swatch of cloth—six inches by nine inches—embroidered with silk thread that Lin Su had clung to, her adoptive parents unable to sneak it away from her. Lotus in spring, her mother called it. Eventually she hid it because she knew they wanted to cut her off from her past. She remembered the day she was taken by the man in the suit to a building and given to her parents. Her new mother, Marilyn, brought a dress for her to leave the building in and shoes that hurt her feet. She remembered crying loudly and her new mother yelling at her to stop, and her voice was so brittle and harsh that not only did she stop crying, she stopped talking altogether for a long time. She remembered she spoke a little English and expanding on it came hard but her new family hired a teacher who visited her—they repeated words, read, wrote, cyphered. She was not allowed to speak Vietnamese. They began to call her Lin Su, though her name was actually Huang Chao. For many years she did not understand—they wanted her to have an Asian name but not Huang. Marilyn said it sounded like a grunt, not a pretty name.

They took her identity. She became Lin Su Simmons.

Then one day she was with her new mother in a store and two old Vietnamese women were whispering about her with her white parents, called her a derogatory name indicating she was an orphan no one would take and her parents had adopted her for status, not for her worth. She thought she was about seven at the time. And without thinking or planning, Lin Su had shot back at them in Vietnamese, My mother is a queen and my father is American, you ugly hag!

The women ducked and ran. Marilyn Simmons was mortified and one of her older sisters, a blonde and biological Simmons daughter, laughed hysterically at their mother’s outrage.

Her birth mother had told her, My father is American and your father is American and these men have failed us. Her heritage was lost, but for the scrap of embroidered cloth and two faux-gold coins given to Nhuong by her father.

Lin Su had two sisters—Leigh was ten years older and Karyn was fourteen years older. Since Lin Su was three when she joined that family in their rich Boston home, that made her sisters thirteen and seventeen. They attended boarding school and from the time Lin Su arrived until she departed at the age of eighteen her sisters were merely visitors. Later, Lin Su would attend the same boarding school, a prestigious academy located in the Adirondacks. There were family holidays together, Karyn’s wedding after her graduation from Bryn Mawr, some trips they all took together. But there were also holidays that her parents were abroad or in the islands and Lin Su stayed at school, one of very few students abandoned while most others spent Thanksgiving or Christmas with their families.

She never bonded with her sisters, unsurprisingly. She had liked them, however. She looked up to them and envied their blond hair and amazing style. Lin Su had friends at school—she was quite popular and very smart. But her older sisters were chic and had fabulous taste. They were also complete opposites. Karyn married a man from a rich banking family, divorced him when she was thirty and married a richer man from a more elite family. She had two children she mothered in much the same way Marilyn had mothered—with a nanny. Leigh had not yet married by the time Lin Su left the family, but she had graduated college, done a tour with the Peace Corps and traveled quite a bit. Lin Su often wondered if either of them ever came home to Boston and said, “What? What do you mean she’s pregnant and gone?” But then why would they? They had given no indication they loved her.

It was her senior year at the academy that she began dating Jacob Westermann. Jake was a big, sexy athlete and she adored him. She went with some of her girlfriends to his rugby matches at a neighboring boy’s academy; they went to each other’s dances; they made love on the sly in any private place they could find. He had been her first.

And her last.

Her parents were very firm—she was to terminate the pregnancy and go to college as planned. She had already been accepted by Bryn Mawr, her mother’s alma mater, and Harvard. Her parents’ charity had extended itself to its limit. They were not supporting her while she raised a child with no father. To her shock and horror, Mrs. Westermann was of like mind. These two upper-class women who spent so many hours drumming up money for good causes from crack babies to animal rights would not acknowledge Lin Su and Jake’s baby. Jake was little help. God, I’m sorry—I was careful. I’ll get you some money. You can take care of it.

She had no option but to leave. She looked for work anywhere and finally was hired in a dry cleaning/laundry shop. The owner was Chinese and rented her a room in the back of his house—a converted garage. She worked by day and went to cosmetology school by night and then found a Vietnamese nail shop where she was grudgingly accepted, though her language skills were rusty at best. In retrospect she realized she took that route to spite her parents—she went back to her roots and before Charlie was born she had polished her language skills. Her uppity parents had no idea how women like her, immigrants from a war-torn country, struggled to acclimate in this complicated country.

Though she worked very hard she still had to accept the charity of those people who would help her. She relied on social services and free women’s clinics for medical care for herself and her baby, shared what seemed like a million apartments with other nail technicians, hoarded her money like a miser, shared child care and transportation. By the time Charlie was three she had socked away enough savings to get to a place better for all his allergies and asthma—she moved to Eugene. She worked and went to school, studying nursing, and when Charlie was six she had a degree and a decent job in a hospital. Charlie was getting allergy shots, and while they still struggled with viruses because of his weakened immune system, he fared well. When he was in school, he excelled.

And here she was, sitting at his bedside, asking herself if she’d been the cause of this latest asthma attack. She could do a little better than that shitty trailer park. They were both at risk there, though they’d been lucky so far. Charlie was an expert at avoiding trouble and keeping the door locked. But she lived in fear. Some of those hoodlums in their neighborhood could turn that little fifth wheel on its side if they wanted to. It might be safer to live in the car, except they needed a kitchen, a bathroom with shower, a food source.

She would not leave Charlie home alone again. She would bring him to Winnie’s and make sure they were kept apart as long as Charlie had a cough, even if that cough was benign. And she’d get about the business of finding better lodging. At once.


Four (#ulink_b509aca0-456b-540c-aba0-b104266396d1)

When Charlie was discharged from the hospital, Lin Su took him with her to the hardware store, but asked him to wait in the car. There was always a list of handymen posted on the bulletin board and she used her cell phone to call one. She explained about the lock on the trailer door being destroyed by paramedics, thus probably saving Charlie’s life. The man she spoke to, being sympathetic, offered to meet her there right away.

Charlie was breathing much more smoothly; there was no rattle and a very infrequent cough. But he was exhausted. An attack like the one he had took its toll, not to mention the strain of so many drugs to get him going again. He was listless. But pumped full of fresh oxygen, his color was good.

The lock operation wasn’t complicated or involved and she wondered if she could have done it herself. When the repairman finished and had been paid a whopping seventy-nine dollars, Lin Su took a badly needed shower. She couldn’t coax Charlie to do the same so they agreed on a washup and change of clothes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him for the hundredth time.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Stop asking me.”

“We’ll go to Thunder Point, then,” she said. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d have a quiet day. Very quiet.”

“I’m not quiet enough?” he asked irritably.

“You’re annoyingly quiet but you know what I mean, Charlie. Stay in, nap, don’t even do a lot of talking. Rest your lungs and throat. I’m sure we won’t be staying long. I told Grace to call a substitute for me today.”

“I can stay home, you know,” he said. “It’s not like I’ll open the door or go for a walk.”

“I understand completely, but should there be any kind of problem, like a broken pipe, I’d rather be close to the action,” she said. And they both knew she was not in any way concerned about a broken pipe or electrical short, even though that old fifth wheel was a piece of junk. “If we leave early because I’m not needed or if there’s a break while Winnie naps today, I’ll be scouting around town for a rental.”

He said nothing.

“I thought that might get the slightest smile out of you.”

“I’m saving my strength,” he said.

“Then I will also save mine!” she snapped back at him. Of course, then she felt bad about her tone. He was tired and the sedative probably had not worn off. He was depressed. This was typical. Not only had the attack zapped his energy, it also left him feeling hopeless. He’d snap out of it in a day, maybe two.

She left Charlie sitting in the car and went to the door. Rather than walking in as usual, she knocked lightly. She hadn’t seen any vehicle in the drive, but it was possible the substitute nurse had been dropped off. And since Lin Su had asked for a sub, she wouldn’t intrude upon the family by walking in.

Troy opened the door. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you! How’s Charlie?”

“He’s doing very well, thank you. I wanted to come by to make sure you knew we’re back on track and if you need anything...”

“Come in, Lin Su. Where’s Charlie?”

“I asked him to wait in the car until I could be sure we’re not intruding on your nurse and Winnie.”

“Ah, Winnie wouldn’t have another nurse,” he said, running a hand around the back of his neck. “I’m staying home today and Grace will close up the shop a little early, bring dinner home with her and settle Winnie for the night.”

“Who’s there?” Winnie yelled from the bedroom. “Who’s at the door?”

“It’s just me,” Lin Su called back. “Just stay where you are and I’ll...”

Before she could say another word, Winnie came shuffling out of the bedroom on Mikhail’s arm. “Well, it’s about time! I’ve been waiting to hear from you! You know, as much as I hate the look of those walker contraptions, I think I should have one, don’t you? I can’t be calling for someone to walk me every time I want to move! Where is my boy? I want to see him! I thought I’d have to force Troy to take me to your house.”

Lin Su’s eyes got larger than they’d ever been. The very thought! “But I called Grace three times! Charlie is with me. If you’ll just sit down and get comfortable, I’ll get him. For goodness’ sake,” she said, shaking her head at Winnie’s aggressiveness.

Charlie was out of the car before Lin Su could fetch him. And when she got back to the front door with Charlie in tow, Winnie had not taken a seat, nor had she gotten comfortable. She was waiting right there in the foyer, holding Mikhail captive with her arm through his.

“Well, at last,” she said to Charlie. “I don’t think I slept one minute last night!”

“She slept like the dead,” Mikhail said testily. “Snored like a freight train.”

Charlie laughed. It was the first smile Lin Su had seen. “That figures,” he said to Winnie. “You better sit down before you fall down. Go on, then.”

Grumbling something about ingratitude and having no secrets, she turned and hobbled toward the great room where she lowered herself into her favorite chair. Charlie followed. He sat down on the sofa, backpack on the floor.

“Well, you look decent. I guess you’re fine,” Winnie said.

“I’m fine,” he assured her.

“I’m told you were chased by hoodlums,” she said.

“They’re druggies from the neighborhood,” he said.

Lin Su winced. Could their circumstances sound any worse?

“Thing is, they’d rob a nun on Easter Sunday, they’re such lowlifes,” Charlie went on. “I think they rip off houses sometimes—a habit is an expensive hobby and we know they don’t work. But the cops hang around a lot, trying to keep the neighborhood clean. I was looking for a cop—but you can’t ever find ’em when you need ’em.”

“Good Lord,” she said. “Do they live near you?”

“In the area,” Charlie said. “I think they’re from those Section 8 apartments on the other side of the road. I’ve seen them around there. You know—affordable housing for the working poor? It’s a HUD thing.”

“Really,” Winnie said, arching a slim brow.

Lin Su met Troy’s eyes and his eyes laughed. How like Charlie to know all about it and Winnie to not have a clue.

“I’m sure you have some Section 8 housing in Thunder Point,” Charlie said.

“I think I lived in it,” Troy said with a laugh. “I lived in a real crappy apartment complex, old and cheap, right on the edge of town. I added about five dead bolts to my door.” He shrugged. “I’m a schoolteacher. Without a master’s degree.”

“Charlie, did those boys give you a hard time at your old school?” Winnie asked.

Charlie laughed at her. “Winnie, those guys don’t go to school. The guy next door to us, Mr. Chester, used to give me a ride so I wouldn’t have any trouble on the way. School was okay. Once you got there.”

“Have you had breakfast?” Lin Su asked Winnie.

“Yes, of course. Has Charlie?” she asked.

“I ate some sludge they call breakfast at the hospital—it was gross. What have you got?”

“Charlie!” Lin Su admonished.

“Make the boy an egg, Lin Su. I’ll have one, too. Thank God you’re here—everyone is out of sorts without you. We’ll have toast. I’ll have tea and Charlie will have apple juice. Milk will just make him phlegmy, right, Charlie?”

“Right,” he said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and opening it up. He began clicking away.

“You should try a cup of tea,” Winnie said. “It would be good for you.”

“I’d rather have another asthma attack. Hey, look at this. Average pay for a schoolteacher without a master’s is about forty-two thousand. I don’t think you qualify for Section 8, but if you work at it...”

Troy ruffled Charlie’s hair. “Thanks, bud. Well, now that the first string is on the field, I think I’ll go to the shop and see if Grace needs me. Then set up my classroom for Monday.”

“Is time for walking the town,” Mikhail said. “Thank God!”

Troy headed for the garage to take his Jeep to town while the old Russian went in the direction of the beach to begin his day of wandering. Winnie and Charlie began entertaining themselves with whatever his interest of the day was on his laptop.

With a sigh, Lin Su took to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later she delivered two trays to the living room—each held an egg and toast, on one a cup of Winnie’s favored tea and on Charlie’s tray apple juice. While they ate, Lin Su checked out the bedroom and bathroom. With no nurse or housekeeper to start out the morning, things were a little upside down. She muttered about the lazy men under her breath as she straightened the bedding, folded clothes, cleaned up the bathroom, started a load of wash. Though it only took her ten minutes, she wondered that no one could even attempt order in her absence.

When she got back to the living room the trays with dirty dishes were sitting on the coffee table and Charlie and Winnie were gone. She spotted them on the deck, just as Charlie was helping Winnie to her chair. Aeiiiieee! she thought, holding her tongue, her hand against her heart. She tried to remain calm as she followed them. Talk about the blind leading the blind! A weakened asthmatic boy and a woman with ALS whose balance was horrible at best and her strength flimsy.

“Just what are you doing?” she asked her son. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I told him not to,” Winnie said. “Really, I think I must have one of those atrocious walker things. God, I hate them! But I hate landing on my ass more! Lin Su, I want you to go fix yourself two eggs, toast and maybe some meat—there’s that microwave bacon or turkey sausage in the fridge. Troy eats both like candy. Then I want you to go to the guest room and lie down for an hour. You’re cranky and you have dark circles under your eyes.”

“I’m fine. I...”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I told you to eat and rest. I’m not breaking in another nurse and I want life back to normal.”

“I’m not hungry, thank you.”

“Charlie said you haven’t eaten and I know you haven’t slept. Go. Now. We’re going to look up some things.”

“No moving around until I’m back,” she ordered. “Charlie is not trained in assisting patients.”

Lin Su pursed her lips in an angry line, but neither of them bothered to look at her. She went to the kitchen and in exactly four minutes she had scrambled and eaten two eggs and a half slice of toast. Screw the bacon, she thought rebelliously. She went to the guest room, angry at being told what to do. She slipped off her shoes. Her eyes got a little teary as she lay down, flat on her back, hands folded over her waist. I am not tired, she thought furiously.

* * *

Lin Su awoke with a start, heart pounding, the sound of laughter coming from the other room. She jumped up, slipped into her clogs and rushed into the living room. There were Grace, Blake, Scott Grant, Winnie and, on the floor with his laptop balanced on his crossed legs, Charlie. A soiree. While she slept.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lin Su,” Grace said. “We were being quiet!”

“No, we weren’t,” Scott said. “But we meant to be. I just stopped by to check on Winnie and Charlie, both of whom are well enough.”

“I came over to get the latest on Charlie, but seeing your car...” Blake said.

“And Troy took over at the shop for a couple of hours so I could come home and ask Mother if she needed anything. I’m glad you had a little rest,” Grace said.

“I wasn’t tired,” Lin Su insisted.

They all laughed and she looked at her watch. “Oh, God,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor. She had slept for three hours! Lunch! She’d missed lunch! “I’m so sorry. You must be starving, Winnie!”

“No, you will be starving. We’ve eaten. Charlie made sandwiches for us. Except for Blake, who eats tree bark, seaweed and unborn animals.”

“It’s not as bad as that,” he said with a laugh.

“What you eat actually sounds worse,” Winnie said. “You had a very good rest, my dear. How you thought you weren’t exhausted is a mystery.”

“I didn’t realize...”

But her son narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t like that she never expressed a need or weakness.

“You were right, I was a little tired,” she relented.

“I’m accustomed to being right about everything. Ask my daughter. Now fix yourself something to eat and join us. There’s gossip. Grace can tell you all about her former assistant, Ginger, who fell in love with a Basque farmer and ran away to his farm to marry him.”

“I’m going to get back to the clinic,” Scott said. “I know this story—I married a Basque woman. Same family. Charlie, you have my number. You know you can call me anytime. If your meds run out or aren’t doing the trick...”

“Yeah, thanks, Doc. I got it.”

“Lin Su, when you have some time, let’s have a conversation about running a few routine lung function tests on Charlie as a follow-up,” Scott said. “We should do an assessment of his progress or the lack. Just give me a call.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Thank you.”

Lin Su went to the kitchen to make herself a half sandwich. Because the house had an open floor plan, she had no trouble hearing the story. She knew most of it, anyway, if not the finer details. She’d been on the scene since June. That’s when Grace and Troy got married; Grace had a little bun in the oven already and her assistant, Ginger, helped set up all the flowers for the wedding. The person who hadn’t gotten all the details was Winnie, who was lapping them up.

“When Ginger thought Matt was taking her for granted, not calling her back when he said he would, she just changed her number. That got his attention. After that it was almost smooth sailing until Ginger insisted that Matt confront his own failed marriage and make peace with his ex-wife, who he hated.”

“Your father had an ex-wife he hated,” Winnie said. “We had no conflict with that. I hated her, too.”

“Well, we’re talking about different people and it all worked. Matt made peace. Ginger was so proud of him and so touched. I caught her crying in the workroom. So I told her to pack a bag and go! Matt’s the man she’s been waiting for all her life. She wants nothing more than to make a home for a family, and boy, does he have family. He’s one of eight—Peyton’s younger brother and a partner in the Lacoumette farm with his father and brother. It’s a match made in heaven. I offered to do the flowers.”

“Grace, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” Winnie said.

“I had no idea I was romantic, either, till I met Troy,” she said.

“Gag,” Charlie said.

“You wait, little man,” Grace said. “Some girl is going to come along someday and twist your tail good!”

That made Lin Su smile. Then she saw Blake coming to the kitchen. He stood beside her and looked at her with kind eyes. Bedroom eyes. His thick lashes hooded his striking blue eyes.

“I think you’re feeling better today,” he said softly.

“Considerably,” she said. Then she sighed, looked down and shook her head sadly. “My apologies. Winnie was right. I was out of sorts.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” he returned.

“I had the lock repaired, so you needn’t worry that we’re not safe,” she whispered to him.

She could see a troubled look cross his face. That lock was the least of it and they both knew it. If those creeps could chase a defenseless kid in broad daylight they could assault a small woman as she walked from her car to the door. For that matter, they could grab a crowbar and pop open that door.

“My offer stands,” he said. “You wouldn’t be in the way. In fact, I might not notice you’re there.”

Oh, she would never! “That’s so kind of you,” she said. “I am grateful. We’ll be fine.”

“I’ve offended you,” he said. “I’m sorry. Maybe someday when you know me better... Well, let’s just say I would never criticize your choices. Clearly, you’re a survivor. But I apologize if my offer...”

“No, think nothing of it.” She cut the sandwich in half and transferred it to a plate. “Let’s join the party.” And carrying the plate, she went to the living room.

* * *

Lin Su did consider Blake’s offer of housing in spite of herself. In fact, her pride came so hard. She wanted to be safe, comfortable and warm; she wanted the best for her son. There was some ingrained part of her that fought so hard for the pride that made accepting charity a last resort.

On the weekend, the last weekend before the start of school, there seemed to be a lot of socializing on the beach and around Cooper’s bar. Families were getting ready to be free of the kids, teachers were preparing for the first week of school. A group of cheerleaders were practicing on the beach and Spencer told Lin Su that the nights of fall were filled with fires on the beach, cheers and laughter from the teens, usually following the football games.

On Sunday while she was sitting on the deck with Winnie and Troy, three familiar women came walking down the beach toward the house.

“There they are,” Troy said with a grin. “The belly brigade. I thought they were having lunch with Iris.”

“And dessert with Winnie and Mom,” Charlie said. He was sitting on the chaise, laptop open.

Lin Su just looked down shyly, but Grace had told her that morning. In fact, Lin Su was invited to Iris’s for lunch, but she respectfully declined, saying Winnie might need her. And so Grace had told her to catch up on whatever chores there were so she could join them. It was a beautiful, sunny day and they’d sit out on the deck, so Lin Su went inside to find place mats for the table.

By the time Lin Su was wiping down the table before the place mats were set down, it was obvious that Grace was carrying a pie and Peyton was carrying a grocery bag that probably held ice cream.

“We’re gonna want to get out of here, Charlie,” Troy said.

“They have pie!” Charlie said.

“Winnie will save you some,” Troy said. “Let’s go throw the Frisbee around while they talk about stretch marks, due dates, birthing plans and other boring stuff.”

“Will you save me pie, Winnie?” he implored.

“You know you don’t even have to ask!”

Before they could make a getaway, the women stopped them on the beach. Iris spent a lot of time talking to Charlie while Grace and Peyton were laughing with Troy. And finally they were on the deck.

“Look at this,” Grace said. Lin Su had the table set with dessert plates, napkins, forks and cups. She had brewed two pots of tea and added cream and sugar to the table. “This is so perfect. We’re having a tea party!”

While Lin Su was loath to admit it, the time she spent with these women was wonderful fun. They laughed so hard they had to pee. For the pregnant ones, this was an issue—one at a time they were skittering off to the bathroom. Winnie laughed as hard as the others.

They had due date issues—it seemed they were all due within a few days of one another, all planned to go to Pacific Birthing Center, had the same OB and midwife. They described scenarios in which they were all in labor at the same time, ready to give birth simultaneously. Grace confessed she didn’t know the gender of their baby—she had a bet with Troy. Iris was having a girl—the Sileskis were famous for making boys so the baby girl would be so welcome. Peyton said she and Scott knew but weren’t ready to tell. She wouldn’t even divulge the colors of the nursery.

They talked a bit about Ginger and Matt. Peyton had the inside scoop being both close to Matt and her mother. “She’s living on the farm in an RV. A swanky RV that Matt says is a rental and he’s going to upgrade that to an even nicer model. They’ll be in it for a year while they’re building their house near the orchard.”

“God, what an awesome place to live!” Grace said. “Lin Su, someday we’ll take you and Mother to the Lacoumette farm—in the spring when the orchard is in bloom.”

“Late spring,” Peyton said. “When the planting is in full swing, when they’re shearing and lambing and Mama’s garden is ripening. When the pear trees are in full bloom. Winnie, you will be amazed by the beauty!”

“Is it handicap accessible?” she asked wryly.

“There are so many big men,” Grace said. “You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven. Mikhail will be so jealous.”

“Lin Su, we’ll bring Charlie—and his EpiPen! There are insects. And we’ll bring Scott—he’s almost as good as an EpiPen. We’ll have a caravan,” Peyton said.

“Ginger came to get the rest of her clothes last week. We had a dinner out to say a proper goodbye to the girls. It was not sad,” Grace said. “I’ve never seen anyone more in love, more ready for the next phase of her life. Hey!” she suddenly exclaimed. “She came to gather up the last of her things! The loft is empty again!”

Everyone just looked at her, not understanding.

“Lin Su, didn’t you want to get closer to town? Well, it’s there if you want it.” Grace bit on her lower lip. “It’s very small, probably much smaller than you’re used to. There’s only one bedroom, but it’s a pretty big bedroom, and the couch is a pullout. Oh, and the kitchen is hardly anything—tiny—but if you and Charlie are having a lot of meals here, maybe that wouldn’t be too inconvenient. I lived in it for over a year. It’s kind of great actually.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Impose?” Winnie asked. “If someone doesn’t live in it, it will sit and mold. Troy and Grace put the furniture and TV from his apartment downstairs. That loft is like an adorable little tree house. I’ve seen it exactly once—I was charmed.”

“Well, Mother. You never said that!” Grace said.

“I think we weren’t getting on at the time. But it is darling, Grace. Lin Su, you should consider it. At least look at it. Small but comfortable.”

Lin Su smiled and nodded. They thought she couldn’t live in a small space? That made her happy—they didn’t know how little it took to make her happy. “I have a very tight budget. Single mothers all do,” she said. “But I’d love to see it.”

“Maybe later?” Grace said.

“I would love to, but today I’m leaving right after Winnie is settled for the night. Charlie and I have a few things to pick up for school—just incidentals—and I want to get him home for a good night’s sleep. Maybe tomorrow? When I have a break?”

“Perfect!”

The girls and Winnie enjoyed themselves so much that Winnie’s nap was cut short. While she rested, Grace and Lin Su tried their hand at a meat loaf, mashed potatoes and asparagus dinner. The rolls came from Carrie’s deli; the asparagus was contributed by Mikhail, who purchased it at a farm stand; Troy peeled the potatoes and the meat loaf recipe came right off the internet, thanks to Charlie.

Soon after the table was cleared Grace sent Lin Su on her way. “I know you have a little shopping to finish on your way home. Let me get Winnie settled tonight. You and Charlie go on.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” she said. “We’re both excited for the first day of school. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lin Su and Charlie drove to the nearest Target. She had already taken care of his clothes and shoes but still needed school supplies and a new jacket. She wasn’t sure if this was a happy coincidence or if Grace was doing a good deed. She was aware that Ginger had moved out and that Grace wouldn’t be living there any longer, but what she didn’t know for sure was whether Grace could use the space for her business and decided to sacrifice it because Lin Su was looking around. Also, although it was said to be very small, Lin Su was aware—Grace and her mother had very high quality possessions and excellent taste—it might be an expensive rental and out of her reach so she didn’t even mention it to Charlie.

But then they pulled up to the fifth wheel and Lin Su’s heart sank.

“Oh, my God!” Charlie cried. “Shit!”

Lin Su didn’t say anything about his language. For a moment she didn’t even know what to fear. The trailer had been broken into—the door stood open. Just six inches, but still. It was dark and ominous.

“Stay in the car,” she said.

“Don’t go in there,” Charlie said. “You never go in a building when you don’t know who’s in there.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, reporting that the padlocked door had been pried open.

All Lin Su could do was look into what was her home. She didn’t recognize it. It was torn apart, things she didn’t even recognize strewn everywhere. Her mind raced—she didn’t have anything of real value, just the most necessary articles of daily living—linens, clothing, pots and pans, dishes... She’d always felt safe from burglars—there wasn’t much to steal. But there were pictures! She ran to what served as her bedroom, turning on lights along the way. She pulled out the drawer under the bed and it was still there—her album. She wasn’t just frugal with money, she was also frugal with space. She had kept some pictures from her childhood in Boston and there were the pictures of Charlie as a baby and toddler. And they were safe.

Then she spied the small closet, the door literally ripped off—and it was gone, her box of treasures. It was a wood and ivory box, not very big. It didn’t hold much and the street value would be nothing. Less than nothing. It held the hospital bracelets she and Charlie wore after his birth, his first tooth in a small envelope, two faux-gold coins, a chain and pendant given to her by one of her sisters. And the swatch—the lotus embroidery. The only thing she had of her biological mother.

She fell to her knees and started searching the floor of the closet, the backs of the shelves, under the bed. “No no no no no,” she whimpered. Why take that? It was worthless. Even the box itself couldn’t be worth twenty dollars! She crawled around the room, stretching her hands under shelves, into corners, even under the bedding. She reached into drawers that had been rifled through and, without realizing it, she was speaking Vietnamese. Rapidly. Breathlessly. Mournfully.

She cried. Then she began to hum softly as she searched.

* * *

Charlie stood in the bedroom doorway. “Send someone, please,” he said into the phone.

Then he disconnected and found another number, one recently put into her directory. He clicked on the button. The man answered, “Blake Smiley.”

“Yeah, it’s Charlie. Need a little help here, Blake. Our trailer—it got ripped up, torn apart, and things were taken. Things my mom really loves. I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you call the police?” Blake asked.

“Yeah, but... They’ll send someone when they can. They said we should file a report. It could be a long time since there’s no imminent danger—no robbers here. But I think we have a problem. My mom. She’s broken.”


Five (#ulink_49d81460-2d0f-52f0-8783-28dfb1863fd9)

When Blake pulled up to the trailer it didn’t look as though anything was amiss. When he went to knock on the door he could see the lock was broken and the door was closed but not latched. Still, he knocked.

Charlie opened the door. “Sorry, Blake. I guess I could’ve called Troy and Grace, but my mom, she worries a lot about people feeling sorry for her, especially people she works for. She’s the caregiver, y’know? She always has to be the strong one. The together one. I’m the only weakness in her life.”

“Don’t start that,” Blake said. “You’re her kid and she takes good care of you. That’s not a weakness.”

“All I’m saying is I’m the only thing that keeps her from going to work. Like if I get sick or something. And I know you offered us a place to stay overnight if we needed it so I thought...”

“You did the right thing. I’m glad I was able to take the call. Now what’s happening with your mom? You said she’s broken?”

“Look,” Charlie said, nodding toward the bedroom.

Blake could hear soft humming. He was a little perplexed, but he looked. Lin Su was kneeling on the bed, folding clothes, rocking and humming as she did so. He looked a little more closely—they were mostly Charlie’s clothes and it appeared some of them might have been damaged. He wasn’t sure if these were just clothes hard worn by a fourteen-year-old boy or if the vandals had done it.

“Was anything taken?” he asked Charlie.

“It’s kind of hard to tell, it’s all such a mess. A couple of things for sure, my mom’s winter coat—she hung it in the bathroom. She said it stayed fresh that way as there was no room in the closet and she wouldn’t keep it near the cooking. And her treasure box. It was little.” He demonstrated, using his hands. “It just had a few things in it—no jewelry or anything. There were two gold coins she said came from her grandfather, passed to her mother, passed to her. It was rumored he was an Army officer, but there’s no proof. She said keeping them safe in a refugee camp was a miracle. Our wristbands from when I was born—hers and mine. A crucifix and beads given to her by a Catholic sister at a hospital once when I was a patient. But the most important thing she had was a swatch—her mother embroidered some lotus flowers on a cloth and it was the only thing she had of her mother’s.”

“Have you talked to her? Is she in shock?”

“I think a little bit. She’s been talking in Vietnamese—she only knows a little. She was adopted when she was a real little girl, like two or three, so it’s amazing she remembered any. But she worked in a couple of manicure shops that were owned by Vietnamese and picked some up again. She was born in America. I think this Vietnamese stuff... I think it’s stress.”

“Okay,” Blake said, rubbing a big hand down his face. “What is it you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. We have to get out of here—the door won’t close. I wasn’t sure I could convince her...”

“Right,” he said. “Go try to make some sense of the mess in the living room and kitchen. Do a little straightening, figure out what’s missing if you can.”

“What if they come back?” Charlie said.

“That would make my day,” Blake said, eyes narrow, jaw clenched. “Those three dopers who chased you the other day?”

“Seems like. But you gotta wonder why they didn’t do it sooner. I mean, we’ve been here nine months.”

“Maybe we’ll figure it out later. Right now we have to get this place under control, pack up some things, leave. You work out here. Let me see to your mom.”

Blake went into the bedroom. He scooped up a pile of clothes off the floor, dumped it on the bed, knelt by Lin Su and began folding. There were jeans and board shorts and T-shirts and sweatshirts. Some looked as if they were stained with paint and he instinctively knew they hadn’t been like that before. Some were ripped. Slit. It looked as though a pocket knife could’ve done the damage. He tossed those in a pile. And some were all right, completely salvageable. Those he folded.

She didn’t speak; she just carefully folded clothes from her pile, then began taking clothes from his pile. They proceeded like that for a few minutes before she looked up. “Why are you here?”

“Charlie called me,” he said.

“He shouldn’t have called you. We can manage.”

“Either you’re a very messy housekeeper or you’re not managing that well. We should pack a few things.”

“I can take care of it,” she said.

“I don’t know you very well, Lin Su,” he said. He continued to fold. “But I know you like to do your work, pay your way, take care of your son and responsibilities. But sometimes you have to be humble. Sometimes when you have an opportunity, you have to be gracious and not stubborn. You are so stubborn.”

“Stubborn is strong,” she said.

“Stubborn is also pigheaded and counterproductive. Tomorrow is Charlie’s first day of school and you really shouldn’t stay here tonight—it’s obviously not safe.”

“There’s a motel...”

He put his big hand over her forearm, stopping her from her task. Was she talking about that shithole down the street? He couldn’t stand to even think about it. “Save that money—you’re going to have to buy a new winter coat. They ripped it off. And some of these clothes will have to be replaced.”

She stopped, holding a pair of jeans in her lap, looking at him suspiciously. “Why do you have a house with so many bedrooms and beds? Are you opening a brothel?”

A short burst of laughter escaped him. “Good idea!” he said. “I have a team and associates. I have a coach and trainer. I usually have a couple of people staying with me two weeks before a race. We travel together for the race and I always give myself a couple of days of training in either a different time zone or altitude. I train almost year-round but hit the training hard before a big race. I used to rent space for my team. I told you, this is my first house. The bedrooms, it turns out, will come in handy.”

“I can afford the motel,” she said. “I have savings.”

“You’re a mule,” he accused, but he grinned when he said it. “Let’s make sure Charlie is comfortable—tomorrow is a big day. Most of all, let’s lower his stress if we can—he’s very worried about you. And if you stay here or in a seedy motel tonight, he won’t sleep.”

“I am always there for Charlie. He can depend on me.”

“Awesome. I don’t suppose you have a suitcase?”

She glanced around. “I had a couple of large duffels—I don’t see them.”

“I have a couple of gym bags in the car. I’ll dump them out so you can borrow them.” He looked at her and just shook his head. “You know, I usually do well with the girls. I make them laugh. I’m charming.”

“Perhaps the problem is that I’m not a girl,” she said.

“Perhaps the problem is that you’re obstinate and inflexible,” he suggested.

“If you find me so thoroughly flawed, why offer all this assistance?” she asked. “It’s a little invasive, you know. I’ve been through worse. It’s a temporary setback, that’s all.”

“This is an emergency,” Blake said. “You’ll stay the night so Charlie can get some sleep and have a good first day of school. Then we’ll look at the options. Do you own this trailer? Can we move it to the property? Cooper has a hookup beside the bar. He has a trailer he brings out of storage for a guest room when family visits and we could put yours...”

She was shaking her head. “I rent it.”

“Then gather up as much as you can and we’ll put the padlock back on the outside. Maybe you’ll come back for more of your things when Winnie is resting. If you need help, I’ll help you. Let’s do this,” he said, getting off the bed.

He went to his car to dump out his duffels. He took a great deal of time on the easy project so that Lin Su could talk to Charlie if she was so inclined. While he was standing there he heard someone yell. It wasn’t a bad yell, more of a whoop, as if there’d been a touchdown on the TV. Then he heard bottles being dumped in the trash. He saw movement and caught the motion of a person skittering around the cinder-block building. He pulled out his wallet, slipped some bills into each pocket, then threw his wallet in the trunk.

He reached into the trunk for a tire iron and a large industrial-strength flashlight. It had been a very long time since he felt he could be in danger from a bad person. Fifteen years at least. Really, since he was thirteen or fourteen he hadn’t rubbed up against many scumbags who just flat-out enjoyed hurting people. In fact, in all his years, if he ever had anything that could pass for a weapon in his hands—a brick, a bat, a broken bottle—it was because he was in defensive mode, staying alive.

He slammed the trunk, turned on the flashlight and headed across the drive to that brick building. The smell of urine and feces was disgusting. Chances were good that it hadn’t been cleaned in years. For the first time he noticed a ramshackle trailer that had a small sign posted. Manager. M–F 10:00 a.m.–4:00 p.m. He’d check that out later.

He walked around the brick structure, shining his light, and came face-to-face with one of the thugs he’d seen the day Charlie was chased. The guy grinned. His teeth were black and he had a couple of sores on his face. Meth teeth, meth sores. It was the kind of leer that made Blake want to look behind him but he wasn’t falling for that one. The guy slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket, gave a small flick, and the blade of a switchblade zinged into view.

Blake took a fast step closer to that knife, swung the tire iron and came down on the guy’s wrist. The meth head screamed, dropped the blade and grabbed his wrist. Before he could run or call for his backup, Blake had him up against the bricks, the tire iron against his throat. “Where is it?” he asked as threateningly as he could.

“Ach. What?”

“You know what. The box.”

“Let go and I’ll tell you.”

Now it was Blake’s turn to grin. “Not a chance in hell. Where?”

“Bruster’s got it!”

“Who’s Bruster?”

“You know. The manager.”

And probably the biggest dealer in here, he thought. Some things were as predictable as sunrise. It was always the one in charge, the one who seldom got his hands dirty. “And did it get you a hit?” he asked.

“Not even.” He choked and Blake stepped back a little. He was an addict; it could get messy.

“Let’s go get you a hit, loser.”

“You gonna roll me?”

“I’m gonna buy you a hit if I can get my box back.”

“You’d do that?”

“I want the box!”

Blake turned him around, twisted his arm up behind his back and counted his blessings. If this charged-up idiot decided to fight him, he might have a real problem on his hands. He’d seen three and four cops have trouble bringing down a one-hundred-and-twenty-pound meth addict when he was high. His flashlight was under his arm, light pointing forward, and the tire iron in his hand, ready.

“Let’s go get it,” Blake said, steering him in the direction of the manager’s trailer. When they stood outside the door, he saw a little trash on the ground right outside the trailer door.

“There it is,” the guy said, looking down.

He saw what looked like a small amount of smashed teak wood on the ground and a little unidentifiable trash—paper, cloth, picture, chain. “That’s my box?” Blake asked, incredulous.

“He wasn’t impressed.”

“What’s a hit go for in your neighborhood?”

“Twenty,” he said. “I mean, forty. Fifty.”

Blake felt himself smile. It had been a long time. He had forgotten how much drugs rotted the brain and what liars addicts were. “Here are your choices,” he said. “I can give you some money and you can run, get out of sight, or you can stay and talk to the manager with me. Or I can beat you stupid with this iron, but I think you already are stupid.”

“You kidding me? Give me fifty and I’m gone.”

Without turning the guy around, he pulled one bill out of his pocket. It was a twenty. He shoved the man away from him and he stumbled a few feet. Blake braced himself, wielding the tire iron in one hand and flashlight in the other. The twenty fluttered in the hand that held the iron. “Do you want to disappear with twenty or would you prefer to negotiate?”




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