Chapter 2

© Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



He awoke from dreams, the images of the old neighborhood lingering in his consciousness. He could almost smell Mrs. Cambise’s lasagna. She’d lived next door and had baked it so many times thast year his mamma had been bed ridden. The hallways were narrow, the air stiff. Voices carried through the thin walls.

He could see the line of windows from the outside, etched in brick, the cracked sidewalk ... and the pile of rubble left in the lot next door.

And on the front stoop the little girl in overalls, dirty tennis shoes and two carefully plaited braids—almost always staring into the pages of some ragged paperback book.

He tossed back the covers unable to bare laying there haunted by memories. He would work it all off in his weight room. He needed to work though the sudden spurt of anxiety.

He found his shoes, sat on the end of the bed to put them on. It was a mistake, he realized, because his eyes almost immediately sought out the framed photo he kept on his dresser.

It was of the three of them—Nicole, Dusty and himself. They’d asked a neighbor to snap the photo, something they could give to their mother so she could see them while they were off at school.

It had been Nicole’s idea, a soft, desperate plea.

For the first time in her life, Nicole hadn’t wanted to go to school. After all, Dusty got to stay home. Jason hadn’t been sure that she’d comprehended that their mother was dying, but she’d understood she was going away. Nicole had been so afraid that their mother would go away while she was at school.

It hadn’t been so simple, of course. The last few days of their mamma’s life had been agonizing and painful. The sleeping was a battle, the eating sparse. They’d sat at the hospital on the first floor, Nicole and Dusty too young to be admitted to the upper waiting rooms ... and waited, the neighbors were with them.

Their father absent.

For that, Jason had only felt relief.

* * *

Nicole looked up at the menu. It was painted on the wall behind the register. She fingered the handful of coins she had in her pocket, and worried over her choices.

None of which had anything what-so-ever to do with the meal.

The waitress wondered over, stood silently beside the register. Nicole studied her out of the corner of her eye. She was a bit taller, her long blond hair streaked with brown and naturally wavy. It was loosely tied back at the name of her neck.

She was casual in jeans as so many people were in town. And according to name tag, her name was Trisha ... which would make her Trish, Nicole thought, the owner of Trish’s Place, the diner she stood in now.

“I’ll have eggs,” she said at last, “scrambled.”

And bacon, she thought, but denied herself the pleasure. Her stomach was too queasy. She hadn’t eaten much on the way down here. She didn’t think she could risk it even now.

Not until she saw him.

Not until she’d accomplished her mission.

“For here or to go?”

Nicole looked around. A tip would be expected, she realized. “To go.”

Trisha keyed it into the register and waited a beat. “Anything else?”

Nicole looked back at her, “No ... I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

Trisha smiled then, took the proffered money and made change as she chatted easily. “Neither am I—you’ll have to come back later, for lunch. Try out the Reuben. It’s my dad’s specialty. He’s the cook.”

So the restaurant was named for Trisha, the daughter. A better family business then she’d known, Nicole thought, and her heart ached.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in town.”

“Well, we’ll make your eggs memorable then. You’ll be back.”

She looked up, passed Nicole, and smiled as the door opened and the bell tinkled. “Jason! I didn’t think you’d be back until the end of the week.”

Then he was back.

Nicole turned around, told herself not to have her heart in her eyes, and stared at her brother.

He was taller now, more filled out. His eyes, full of fear and needs back when he’d left, were hard now.

“Jason—” all the words she’d planned for years, escaped her. She suddenly had no idea what to say.

She couldn’t, she didn’t recognize him. He was a stranger.

“Why don’t we take this outside,” he muttered, glanced back as Gabriel passed him.

Nicole felt her stomach roll. These were his friends, she realized. It was his place.

And he didn’t want her here.

She said nothing when he gripped her arm, but she went with him. She lifted her chin as he pulled her outside.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, dropping his hand. He towered over her.

“You’re my brother,” she said at last.

“I don’t have any family. Not anymore.”

He turned away from her. He couldn’t look at her without remembering. He couldn’t look at her without feeling the guilt.

“You made me a promise,” she told him, suddenly afraid that he would just walk away from her. Again. “You said you would be back. I waited for you ... I thought—”

He spun around. “You were in prison. You followed in his footsteps. I couldn’t have seen you if I wanted to.”

So he knew, and he had been back. She closed her eyes, weighed down by the guilt–the absolute shame, that being in prison, that every single day and every single memory of prison brought her. It wasn’t what her mama had wanted.

It wasn’t what she had wanted.

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”

“You conned a couple of old women out of their life savings. It wasn’t a quick, needy decision.”

Not a couple ... only one, but it still broke her heart. Margaret. Her name had been Margaret and her husband had passed away that year. She’d moved into the apartment down the hall with boxes of fancy possession and wonderful woven tales of memories. She’d been so needy, so desperate for companionship.

Nicole had been drawn to the broken heart ... her father had seen an easy mark.

It hadn’t been the breaking and entering that had finally brought her down. It had been the lock she’d picked on a lonely woman’s heart. It had been the only choice she’d had. She blinked back the tears, wishing she could tell Margaret ... wishing she could take it all back.

“You’re judging me?” she asked, as the ire rose up. She tasted the bitter taste in her mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. You weren’t there.”

“I left. I left instead of living like that.”

“And I couldn’t,” her voice was suddenly bitter and hard—like it had been in the old neighborhood. “We have a brother? Or do you remember that? I couldn’t leave him. Not as you left me.”

“You won’t hose me for money.”

“I don’t want your money,” she spat at him. “But I don’t guess that matters anymore.”

She turned away from him, afraid she would choke on the tears. Afraid he would see ...

Afraid he still wouldn’t care.

* * *

“What was that about?” Trisha asked Jason as he walked back into the diner. He hadn’t wanted to, she knew. He’d nearly walked away.

But he’d looked inside, through the big, front windows, and found her watching him.

“That’s Nicole, isn’t it?”

He glanced over at Gabriel who was sitting at a bar stood. He shrugged, but his gaze was dark. Jason knew what Gabriel wanted from him.

But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, please everyone.

Trisha dispelled a breath. “He didn’t have to tell me. I have eyes don’t I? You showed me the picture, didn’t you? Though you regret it I know, opening up to someone.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What’d she want?”

“What does anyone want?” he asked, “She sees a mark. She got good at that.”

Trisha stared at him, then turned, picked up the to go box. Her gaze was icy as she looked toward Gabriel.

“Stick around and watch the place, will you?” She pointed toward Jason. “And make sure he’s gone when I get back.”

Without waiting for an answer, she walked out passed him. She wasn’t sure where Nicole had gone, but she knew Jason and she knew what his heart longed for.

Even if he might never admit it.

* * *

Nicole sat on one of the wrought iron benches in the center of the park. She looked up at the town’s clock and watched the hands. She was running out of time. It had taken her a day and a half to get here, so she needed to reserve another day and half to get back. She’d waited yesterday looking for him, asking around about him, following through on the advice her own probation officer had given her.

Her time was almost up. There was a bus pulling out of town tomorrow morning at five in the morning. She had to be on it.

Her probation officer had pulled the strings. She’d been able to give her five days. Five days to help Dusty. Five short days.

She let the tears slide down her cheeks. She’d learned to let them fall. Holding them in reminded her of her days at the Bedford Hills correctional facility. She didn’t want to go back there, not even in her memories.

Her pulse picked up when she heard the footsteps.

It wasn’t Jason.

“You left your eggs.”

Nicole stared at her. What was it with Jason’s friends, wanting to talk to her?

And not Jason himself?

“I couldn’t eat.”

Trisha shrugged as she sat down. “Never-the-less. I’m Trisha.”

Nicole wiped at the tears, then gestured to the name tag. “I know.”

“I’m ... a friend of Jason’s. Gabriel brought him with him when he took the job and came in from Trenton.”

“Gabriel’s a cop,” Nicole murmured, “so Jason was in Trenton.”

Not far from New York, Nicole realized.

“For a time. He was in school, took a job to get through school. He has a business here that he started on his own. He’s built it ... and relationships, he’s taken time to ... cultivate them. It wasn’t easy for him to trust. He didn’t come from an easy place.”

Nicole looked at her in surprise. “You don’t think I know that?”

“No, I was letting you know that I did. We’ve dated off an on, but he won’t ... he hasn’t been able to commit. He’s had it hard,” she reached out, shifted Nicole’s bangs out of the way. “Long ago, he had to leave his baby sister, whom he loved very much.”

The sob broke free. “He hates me now.”

“No ... but that’s what he’s telling himself. Come on—come back to the diner. I’ll warm up your eggs and you can tell me why you finally showed up. And I’ll see what I can do to help.”


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