Chapter 9

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne



The house was still standing.

Gabriel pulled down the long lane toward Jason’s home and around the back to the garage. The sun shimmered on the windows, showered over the green lawn.

He climbed out, shut his car door behind him.

The house was silent as he entered. It was almost like coming home.

But it wasn’t home. Not anymore.

“Well, look who’s here.”

He turned to find Julie on the stairs. “Hey beautiful.”

She stood three steps up, her hand on the railing, and stared down at him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d turned back into a Southern Bell.”

She snorted and came down the rest of the way. “You know better. And I was never the Southern Belle.”

“Still have that southern charm.”

She shove past him New York style. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to look around for the rest of my things that weren’t tossed into boxes. And to check with Jason one on one.”

“The troops are headed into town for some family time. Away from me.”

He followed her into the den. “Hasn’t gone well?”

“Depends on your expectation. Alienated child, two ... adults who don’t have it together, not to mention that the father .... I don’t know what to think.” Julie plopped down on the sofa and tucked the throw pillow under her arms. “They certainly have the Italian flair for communicating.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You got in the middle of Jason’s temper.”

“Oh he wouldn’t dare turn it on me–not full force. He needs me too much. And it’s not that he turns it on anyone for long. But it’s there, in his eyes, even when he pulls back. Between the silence and the yelling, I don’t know where to begin. They don’t communicate with each other. Jason turns to me or Nicole to talk to Dusty, Nicole ... I don’t know if she’s well enough to be in the middle of those two. She’s got a temper of her own though. And Dusty. That’s another story. He’s ... testing the field. Nicole fights it, I know it ... and Jason ... shuts himself up in his office or falls into a yelling match with him. Neither has been productive.”

“Well, they have to get used to each other.”

“I’m not going to be around forever.”

He reached out took her hand, intending to play with her fingertips. “How long are you going to be around?”

She pulled her hand back, gave him a dark look. “Not long enough for that.”

“It might not take long at all. Just a little romance.”

“We don’t work.”

“I’m different here.”

“I know. Don’t you think I know?” she leaned forward. “The way people talk about you–they think you’re some good old boy. I saw a picture upstairs. You’re laughing. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you laugh like that. Even now,” she waved a hand, “you’re more open, more ... alive, then you were even a week ago in New York.”

“Then stick around.”

She laughed. “You’re too playful for me. The South’s been good for you. I’m too New York–or almost too New York for you. You’d stifle me, Gabriel ... and I’d ... I’d probably push you back to where you don’t need to be. It almost happened. In New York.”

Gabriel pushed up, walked to the other side of the room. He ended up by the window, looked outside–looked as if he itched to get outside.

There was no outside back home. Not like this.

“We had some good times, but that doesn’t mean we were good for each other. You’re lighter here, dare I say ... playful?”

He turned back, stared down at her. “As long as we get that out of the way. How about giving me a few tips to use for Jason’s sister?”

She threw the throw pillow at him as she laughed. “You’re a flirt ... still a flirt, but a much happier one.”

* * *

For all Julie’s talk, and the time in New York, Gabriel still had a job to do. As the chief of police, he had two weeks worth of paper work to catch up on ... not to mention a wanted man to find.

He walked into his office with his deputy behind him.

“What do we have with the Rossi case?”

“I think you got it all.”

“Give it to me again.”

Gabriel turned, perched on the side of his desk, his arms crossed as he listened.

“Stolen car checked out, covered in Rossi’s prints. Was reported missing that afternoon. Clean job, all in all ... not like the normal work we get around here.”

“Joe Rossi’s a pro.”

“That’s what those yankees in forensics up there said,” he looked back at his notes. “Lets see ... we’ve had reports of a man fitting Rossi’s description as far away as Spartanburg, before the incident and as close as the Westend Liquor store the day following the incident.”

“Nothing since?”

“No. You still don’t think he turned and ran.”

“He didn’t get what he came for. A man like him ... no. His pride would be hurt. The family that splintered around him is getting back together. He didn’t take pride in it being together, but now none of them seem to be following in his footsteps.”

“The daughter seemed to be.”

“She’s not.”

“You’re sure?”

Gabriel glanced up, cornered and trapped and suddenly back in New York. He couldn’t be sure of anything. She’d entered the house before the incident. It had to be a professional job.

But her eyes. He’d always been a sucker for eyes. She looked ... lost.

Even that first night, she’d looked lost. Prison, six months of it, had been rough on her. The little apartment she’d shared with three others had held so few belongings.

Mostly books ... travel guides, a collection of classic romances, and books on dogs, politics and the history of the locomotive. She had a shoe box of brochures of places he assumed she wanted to go one day, a few uniforms for Tony’s hanging in her closet, and three drawers worth of clothes.

Nothing designer, nothing all that feminine.

Her roommates had pointed to a calender on the refrigerator for events at the local library, and a few Italian staples ... garlic and spices. They had been flamboyant to the verbose, but dedicated to Nicole. They’d helped him pack, talking more amongst themselves then to him. He’d heard about their boyfriends, their jobs, and half the neighborhood.

He wouldn’t peg her as a thief, not anymore ...

But no ... he wasn’t sure.

* * *

Jason hid himself away in his office.

He knew it was the cowardly. Dusty had lived with him for less than ten days. One week–and he was at the breaking point. The house–once quiet–was now full of shouting and yelling and slamming doors.

Nicole was in physical therapy. Julie had settled upstairs on the pone, dealing with her job. He should have been with Dusty ... wherever Dusty was.

But Jason hid instead, with his head buried his head in his hands. He just didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. They crossed each other more often then not. Dusty’s emotions were quite that simple to explain. He was just a boy. His father had hurt his sister. His sister was in pain. He was in a new home. No one, least of all Jason, had known what to do with him.

The few signs he’d worked on with Trisha had fallen short of helping.

After all, he couldn’t read anything that Dusty relayed back. The boy was too quick, too clever ... Jason thought, too really share his thoughts.

He sat up and stared at the computer screen. The stock ticker scrolled across the bottom. He needed to manage his stocks, but he just deal with the details. He pulled up his email and opened the message that had come from the state sponsored School of the Deaf. School had only just started.

It was the best opportunity for Dusty. Still, Jason wasn’t ready for him to be sent away. Despite how things were working out, he wanted to do right by his brother. He wanted to ... get to know him. To ... make it up to him. Nicole had missed the last few years–and despite the pain and the obvious strain she felt from fear–she was attached to her little brother.

To their brother.

How could he do that and ship Dusty off to boarding school?

Still, Dusty was already more than a year behind academically. He didn’t have the skills both Julie and Nicole seemed sure he should have. The local school system did not have the resources to support Dusty’s education. He needed the environment, and the officials in New York expected Jason to make sure he got it.

But he wasn’t it true that he needed his family?

Jason read over the letter again ... and lifted it up in prayer. He wasn’t used to having a kid around ... he wasn’t used to someone who was deaf...

He wasn’t used to being a brother, being responsible to someone besides himself.

He closed the email. They would have to make a decision soon.

But he would make it for the right reason this time.

Just as he settled down to concentrate on his stocks, sound rocked the house–sheers and screems and the booming voice of an announcer. As Jason felt his heart settle back into place, he stared at the picture frame across the room that pulsed against the wall.

And he’d thought he’d created a surround-sound monster with Gabriel.

He pushed himself up, wincing against the volume as opened his office door and walked into the living area. Dusty had obviously discovered some recorded basketball game on a classic sports channel. Jason fumbled for the controls. Even as he turned it down, he saw the absolute joy on his brother’s face ... and watched it fade.

Dusty yelled.

Jason winced. He couldn’t understand him. He didn’t know.

Dusty turned to run and found Nicole standing in the doorway. He look was steady–rock hard steady. Jason felt his heart jump dangerously.

Suddenly he was twelve and he’d been caught.

She looked so like his mother.

Oh, she got the color of her eyes from their father, but the shape of they eyes, the fall of the lips, the way her hair fell around her face–was definitely Amelia Rossi.

She signed something. Dusty didn’t shout, but his look was hard. Something in Nicole wilted. The hardness was gone, the weariness replaced. She hadn’t fully recovered. She put up a front for Dusty, but she still hurt.

She signed something back, but this time Jason could understand.

I don’t know. 

What were you doing?

Dusty shrugged angrily and turned away. Nicole put her hand to his arm, moved around him. No–you know the rules. You have the courage to face up to me. You don’t turn away from me.

He met her eyes with his own stubborn ones. He was yelling.

And you were yelling too, Nicole signed patiently. She sat down on the bed beside him. I need you and Jason to get along.

Dusty rolled his eyes.

Would you rather be back in New York with Dad’s girlfriend?

He shook his head.

Then what is it?

He doesn’t care about me.

Oh, doesn’t he? He gave you this really cool room. He paid for that nice plane ticket. If you had pulled that with me, I would have reamed you over the head with the remote.

Dusty laughed. You would have tried.

Yeah, and you think you’re so big.



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