A Silence in the Heart (Holmes Crossing Book 4) Page 10

  Why hadn't he come to her? Why hadn't he told her he needed help? Her heart twisted at the thought that he had spent the night alone here. Again.

  And where was his mother?

  She tamped her anger. Kent looked scared and alone, and she had to reassure him. Who knew what his mother had told him? Tracy crouched down, bringing herself on eye level with him.

  "Are you hungry, Kent?"

  He dug his finger deeper into the hole, stretching it. "Mom says I'm not allowed to let you feed me."

  "How about we go talk to your mommy about that?" Because if Kent had spent the night here, Tracy was sure his mother wasn't around to say yes or no.

  Kent pulled his mouth in, considering, and then nodded.

  "We can go once I've taken care of the animals." It broke her heart to think that his own kitten was getting fed and cared for better than he seemed to be.

  When they were done, she helped him wash his hands and convinced him to wash his dusty face as well. The clothes she could do nothing about.

  "There you go, sport," she said, fingering a lock of hair out of his eyes. "All spit and polished."

  As he smiled up at her, a peculiar sensation curled through her midsection. She wanted to pick him up. Tuck his head into her neck and hold him close. Protect him.

  "Let's go, then," she said, holding out her hand. And to her amazement and wonder, he took her hand and held tight.

  As they walked back to his apartment, she was thankful for the sunshine pouring down. Kent didn't have a coat.

  Once again, as they walked up the stairs to his apartment, the smell of moldering carpet and musty cement brought back too many of her own memories.

  Kent used his key and let himself in, but Tracy, respecting his concern and unwilling to have another run-in with his mother, stayed back in the hallway.

  He came back a few minutes later, his face downcast. "She's not here," he said, swiping at his face.

  Ignoring any potential hazardous material inhabiting the carpet, Tracy knelt down and pulled him close, fighting down her anger with a mother who could treat her child so callously, too many memories of her own mother interfering.

  She pulled back, pasting a smile on her face, adopting a fake cheery attitude. "Okay, why don't we go to town? I think I need to buy you a birthday present."

  His eyes grew wide. "How did you know my birthday was coming?"

  She had absolutely no clue but was thankful for the stab she had made in the dark. "I know a lot," she said with an exaggerated wink.

  He gave her a weak smile and then, taking her hand, walked with her out of the apartment.

  Tracy took him directly downtown. An hour and a few more dollars on her charge card later, they were at her apartment. It had taken some convincing for him to come, but thankfully he agreed.

  She fed him pancakes, and then he went directly into the bathtub. While he was playing with some old yogurt containers and singing some Beyonce song, she dumped his old clothes and shoes, happy to see them gone. Once he was dressed, she brought him to the living room, and they unpackaged the Legos she had bought him. He insisted on doing it himself, which gave her the perfect opportunity to call her friend.

  She holed up in her bedroom and called.

  "I did some asking around the past couple of days," Danielle said. "All I know is that the neighbors said they heard a lot of fighting, worse than usual, apparently, on Thursday night, and haven't seen anyone since."

  Tracy pressed her anger back. Fighting? Around him?

  He's here now. He's safe, she told herself.

  "So what do we do now?"

  "My next step is to check with the hospitals and the police," Danielle continued. "See if she ended up there. But for now, Kent is safe, and as far as I'm concerned, he's your first priority."

  "We're going to help him, aren't we, Danielle? He's not going to fall between the cracks, is he?"

  "I can't make any promises, Tracy, you know that. If his mother comes back and takes Kent, there's nothing we can do to stop her. Not right now."

  Tracy clutched the phone so hard, her fingers ached. "When I gave him a bath, I saw bruises. Old and new. A couple on his chest. One fresh, one slightly yellow. Three on his back. All older. A set of fingerprints on his upper arm." She stopped as her anger surged once again. "He can't go back to her."

  Danielle was quiet, which didn't give Tracy any encouragement. "You can take him to the hospital and get them documented."

  "I can't. No car, remember?"

  "And I'm busy . . ." Her voice trailed off.

  "Busy as in?"

  "As in none of your business."

  "So I'm supposed to give you all the gory details of my life, but you can't talk to me about yours?"

  Danielle sighed. "Busy as in I'm breaking up with Anthony."

  Tracy was quiet a moment. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. He just wasn't . . . right. Besides, my brothers kept giving me so much grief about him, I knew there was no way they'd ever accept him."

  "Your brothers just want to keep you to themselves."

  "Family through co-dependency," she joked. "Anyway, probably just as well. No real sparks between us."

  Tracy thought of the sparks that David created. Sparks she didn't trust yet couldn't ignore.

  "Meanwhile we'll keep looking for Juanita," Danielle continued. "If she doesn't show up in the next couple of days, we can declare him abandoned and I can apply for temporary guardianship."

  "Okay. I'll keep phoning the apartment. All I get is the answering machine, though."

  "I'll stop by the place tonight again before I head out. You still need a ride to church?"

  "That would be nice. I should let you know I might be gone after church. Not sure, though."

  "Where are you going?" Danielle's voice held a hint of “tell me all.”

  "Not what you think," Tracy said, sinking that ship before it sailed too far. "My mom called. She wants me to come visit. I don't know if I'm going to go or not. After all, I have Kent to think of."

  Danielle's silence showed Tracy how much her friend understood her dilemma.

  "You going?"

  "I think you should go."

  "I do too, but only if Kent's mother is home. I want to stop there after church tomorrow."

  "So do you want me to bring you to Kent's place to drop him off, and then to Freeman?"

  "No. Thanks. David is taking me to Freeman. He has something going on there as well."

  "That's nice."

  "The David part is nice," Tracy agreed.

  "I think it's good you're going. The way your mom was talking, it sounded like things have changed with her."

  Tracy fought down her angry response. She didn't want to hear another person defend her mother. "Well, I'm doing it as much because David encouraged me to as anything. I don't want him to think I'm some unforgiving harpy."

  "You're not that, Tracy. But I do think it's good that you're going—for your sake. Did you make sure she's going to be home?"

  Tracy bit her lip, resenting the brush of guilt she felt at Danielle's light probing. "She's the one who contacted me wanting a visit. I shouldn't have to go chasing her down. If she can't remember that, well then I don't know if . . ." She stopped there, wishing she didn't sound so defensive.

  "It's okay, Tracy. I was just being a friend."

  "I'm sorry. I'm a little keyed up about it, is all."

  "It will be fine."

  Tracy doubted. Things between her and her mother were so seldom “fine.” "As soon as you hear anything about Kent's mom, can you call me?" she asked.

  "You'll be first on my list. Take care."

  Tracy disconnected and sank down on the bed, her emotions veering between nervousness over her visit with her mother and anger with Kent's mom.

  Pictures of her own childhood flashed with searing intensity into her mind. The fear and the uncertainty of waiting. The ache in the pit of her stomach as she imagined all kinds of horrible things happ
ening to either her or her mother. Worry about what would happen if her mother never came home.

  Tracy pressed her clenched fist against her mouth as if holding back the memories. She had to stay on top of her emotions. Especially for Kent's sake. His story is too much like my own, she thought, sending up a quick prayer for strength.

  "Look what I made." Kent burst into her room, yanking Tracy out of the moment.

  He was waving an airplane made out of bricks, his lips vibrating with little-boy spitting noises that she presumed were supposed to be the sound of the plane's engines. In spite of her anxiety, his exuberance and happiness pulled an answering response from her.

  "That's awesome," she said, thankful for the smile on his face.

  "Let's make another one."

  She needed the distraction, so she gladly joined him and spent a happy hour sprawled out on the living-room floor, following the instructions for a car and a boat and another airplane.

  When they had exhausted all the possibilities of the bricks, Tracy downloaded a movie, and while Kent watched, she tried to phone Kent's home again. Still no answer.

  She clenched her phone, struggling with an innate anger with a woman who could be so irresponsible with such a precious child.

  Which made her think of her mother and the upcoming visit. Should she call her as Danielle suggested? Would she run the risk of going all the way to Freeman only to be disappointed if she wasn't home?

  She looked up her mother's number, her finger hovering over the buttons, indecision and her own history with her mother pulling her back and forth.

  But before she could make up her mind, the phone rang in her hand, making her jump.

  And her heart started up when she checked the call display.

  David.

  "Hello there," she said, turning her back to Kent before she even realized what she was doing. Like a teenage girl hiding her secret boyfriend from her mother.

  "Hey there. How are you doing?"

  "I'm good. Kent is here."

  "What? How did that happen?"

  "Just a minute." Tracy lowered her voice as she walked down the hall. She ducked into her bedroom. "I found him this morning in the clinic again. I've been trying all day to phone his mother, but there's no answer. Danielle has been trying to track her down as well."

  David's silence underlined her own concern. "This is the second time. What happens now?" he asked.

  "Danielle is keeping an eye on things. He's okay here right now."

  "I'm guessing the movie is off for tonight, as is coming over."

  "He's a little jumpy yet. So I guess we'll see you tomorrow at church. Danielle will be picking me up." Tracy felt a flutter of anticipation at seeing David mixed with dread at the thought of seeing her mother.

  "How's he doing?"

  Tracy thought again of the information she'd given Danielle. About Kent's bruises. But she didn't think she should pass that on to David. "He's happy right now."

  "Of course he is. He's with you."

  The warmth in his tone created an answering warmth in her.

  "So, I'll see you tomorrow, then?" David asked.

  "Of course."

  "I'll be thinking of you."

  For a moment, she couldn't say anything. Other than Danielle, how long had it been since anyone “thought” of her?

  She smiled and then said goodbye.

  Then held the phone close to her, her lips pressed together.

  Was she making a mistake allowing herself to think of David? To let him close?

  She wanted to shrug the questions off, but many years of self-protection were hard to shrug.

  You have to take care of your heart.

  But at what cost?

  Chapter 9

  What is this place?" Kent asked as Danielle pulled into the half-full parking lot. "I've never been here before." He sat hunched in the back seat of Danielle's car, his hands tucked under his legs.

  His hair was neatly combed. His blue plaid shirt was still stiff from the sizing. It was brand new, as were the corduroy pants he wore. He looked like an entirely different child.

  He looked utterly adorable.

  "This is a church," Tracy said, turning to give him a reassuring smile. "This is where we're going this morning."

  Kent frowned as he ran his thumb up and down the seatbelt across his chest. "Is this a good place?"

  Tracy smiled. "It's a good place," she said. "One of the best places you can be."

  As they walked toward the church, Kent clung to Tracy's hand, walking beside her, ignoring Danielle, who gently tried to engage him in conversation. He replied in monosyllabic answers, as if he sensed what she was—a dreaded social worker.

  Danielle threw Tracy a questioning look, but Tracy knew far better what Kent was dealing with than Danielle, who, in spite of all her training and experience, could ever know or understand.

  She clung just a little tighter to Kent's hand, surprised by a wave of feelings she could only describe as maternal.

  This little boy needed a home. Stability. If his mom didn't show up soon, he would end up in the system. And in a foster home.

  I could take him in.

  The idea came with a soft slide into her mind, but as she tested it, as she glanced down at Kent's dark head so close to her hip, it felt so completely right. She could be a mother to this little boy. Who better to understand what he needed? What he wanted?

  She knew it was too early to even venture there. Danielle had filed a report on the latest “incident.” Formal words for the fear, that Tracy knew too well, Kent faced when he snuck into the clinic, seeking shelter and sanctuary.

  But the longer Kent's mother stayed away, the bigger the chances were that this little boy would end up in care.

  And she wanted to be as involved as she could in his life.

  I can do this, she thought, clinging to Kent's hand. Relishing the feel of his warm fingers wrapped around hers. I can take care of this child.

  And what about his family?

  What if they suddenly appeared out of the woodwork?

  Danielle had told her enough stories about long-lost grandparents, aunts, and uncles mysteriously showing up at court cases, suddenly keenly interested in the well-being of a child they had had little or nothing to do with before.

  She had long suspected these eleventh-hour appearances were more a desperate bid to keep the child out of the hands of Child Welfare than true concern for the child.

  And if that happened with Kent, Danielle would have to weigh their suitability against hers. Family often held greater sway in child welfare cases than an interested third party. Kent might slip into the system, and she might never see him again.

  Enough. Enough.

  Tracy pushed back the flurry of worried voices. She had a job to do, and however God saw fit to use her in this child's life, she would have to abide with that.

  The church was half full by the time they got into the sanctuary. Danielle and Tracy went to their usual spot beside Danielle's father. He moved over to give them room. Danielle sat right beside him, Tracy beside her, setting Kent close to the end of the pew. Just so he knew he could get away if he felt the need.

  Arnold grinned at Tracy as she sat down. "Hey, girl. How are ya?"

  "Good, thanks. Busy at work."

  "Who's the kid?" Arnold's booming voice was toned down in deference to the fact that he was in church.

  Barely.

  Tracy tried not to wince as she glanced at Kent, gauging his reaction. "This is Kent. Kent, this is Danielle's dad, Mr. Hemstead." Kent ducked closer to Tracy, not even raising his eyes as she made the introduction. No surprise.

  Had Danielle's mom been alive, Tracy knew that Alice would have reached in her purse and given the boy one of her never-ending supply of candies. She would have smiled gently and spoken softly, letting him know with her low-key approach that she was safe.

  There were many times Tracy missed Alice far more than she missed her own mother. And
if Alice were still alive, Tracy would have been at her home in a heartbeat, asking advice on what to do about her own mother.

  "He's a little shy," Tracy murmured, squeezing Kent's hand, hoping Arnold would get the hint.

  "I'm not a shy," Kent mumbled, still looking down. "I'm a boy."

  "And a big boy," Arnold said, managing to restrain his usually boisterous self. "So how's things with the new boyfriend, Tracy?"

  Tracy gave her friend a pained look, but Danielle was ignoring her, as if to say, "I live with this all the time. Get over it."

  Tracy looked back at Arnold, held his gray eyes with her own direct gaze. "What boyfriend?" she said, keeping her tone bland, unfazed.

  "Nice try, girlie," he said with another grin. "I saw you sitting with him a few Sundays ago. Heard you went out too. I'll be expecting to see an announcement in the bulletin soon."

  Tracy gave him a weak smile, unable to think of anything fast enough.

  "Is this seat taken?"

  The deep voice beside her startled Tracy, and as she looked up, her heart fluttered in her rib cage like a captured bird. David stood at the end of the pew, one hand tucked into the pocket of black dress pants. His blazer over his T-shirt gave him a casually dressy look. But it was his half smile that gave an extra hitch to Tracy's breath.

  "No. You can sit here, if you like." She unconsciously moved aside, as if there wasn't enough room.

  "Hey there, David," Arnold said, leaning forward, watching Tracy closely.

  Tracy dragged her gaze away from him as politeness and duty overran her natural instinct to duck. To hide. She hoped, prayed, that David hadn't heard Arnold's teasing.

  "Arnold Hemstead, this is David Braun. I'm sure you've met him before. David, this is Arnold, Danielle's father."

  David just nodded at the older man. "How is your horse?"

  "Good, now. Never did see such a bad case of laminitis. It'll be a while, but that farrier you recommended seems to know his stuff."

  "Glad to hear it."

  Another older man dropped into the pew on the other side of Arnold, and thankfully, he got caught up in conversation about the harvest and crop yield.

  David's gaze skimmed Tracy's again as he returned his attention to Kent. "I'm going to be taking care of your kitty," he told Kent, resting his elbows on his knees. "If you want, you can come and visit him."