A Wish and a Prayer (10 page)

More silence.

“And I will be calling Diego's grandfather to let him know what's going on.”

Blazing eyes locked on Bernadine.

“I'm not going to apologize for taking my parenting duties seriously, or loving you enough to act like it.”

“Anything else?” Crystal snapped.

“Yes. For that bit of attitude, you get to paint the Jefferson fence, starting in the morning, too.”

Crystal visibly blanched. So far, Crys and Zoey were the only two of the original Henry Adams foster kids who'd not had to paint the Jefferson fence. Zoey now held the title alone.

Crystal had tears in her eyes. “May I be excused now?”

“Yes, you may.”

She ran up the stairs to her room but had sense enough not to slam her bedroom door, and for that Bernadine was thankful.

Bernadine dropped onto the sofa and placed her head in her hands.
Lord.
This was not what she'd expected to come home to. The threatening phone call had been enough, and now Crystal's shenanigans had pushed their way onto her decidedly full plate. She wanted to strangle Diego. Had the two really talked about Crystal running away to meet him? Did they have a plan in place? She scrubbed her hands over her eyes.
Lord have mercy
. Children always thought they were smarter than their parents; she knew she had though that, growing up. Then reality would hit when your parents proved you wrong and dropped the hammer. She could now relate to how they must have felt. Having to come down on Crystal made her feel like crap. Playing the role of a heavy wasn't something she relished. Most parents wanted to be loved and liked by their kids, and she was no exception. However, unlike some parents, she didn't consider Crystal her friend; Bernadine had friends. Crystal was her child, and children needed guidance, structure, and love that was sometimes tough, so that if they were lucky, they'd grow up, get themselves together, and then be considered friends. Not now.

To her surprise, a short while later, Crystal came back downstairs. Bernadine prayed this wasn't going to be Mother vs. Daughter, the Sequel. She waited.

“I came down to ask if you want me to cook you some dinner?”

“Sure.”

“I also want to apologize for lying.”

Having been a teenager, Bernadine wondered whether this confession was truly sincere or just an attempt to get back on her good side. Seeing the tear-swollen eyes, she guessed it was a bit of both. “I appreciate the apology, but you still have to do the time.”

“I know.”

“So what are we having?”

“I have a salmon recipe I want to try, and we can have salad.”

“Sounds great. Let me go up and change clothes.”

Still looking teary, Crys nodded and left for the kitchen.

When it came time for them to sit down and eat, the atmosphere at table was still strained, but the ginger salmon was fabulous, and Bernadine let Crystal know. “You're turning into quite the chef.”

“Siz said he might let me work the grill this summer. Who knows, maybe after I become a world-famous artist, I'll open a restaurant, decorate it with my art, and call it Crystal's.”

“I like.” This moment with her adopted daughter was what she'd been needing after all the drama. The comfortable routine of a shared meal eased the stress. She was also pleased to hear Crystal's dreams. The old, tattooed, weave-wearing Crystal had arrived in Henry Adams with only one—finding her addict mother—but now her world had expanded so much that her dreams were boundless, and Bernadine felt blessed by all Crystal had and could become. She just hoped they could put this mess with Diego behind them and move on.

They ate in silence for the most part, and when the meal was done, Crys offered to clean up alone, but Bernadine declined the offer.

“I appreciate it, but if we both help, we can get it done faster. It's been a long day, and you have school in the morning.”

That Crystal also had a fence to paint remained unspoken.

After the cleanup was done and the dishwasher filled, Crystal asked, “Does being on lockdown meant I can't do my art?”

“No. Doing your art is okay.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Crystal stood there a moment as if she had something to say but wasn't sure how to start. Instead, she said, “I'm going back up to my room now.”

She was on her way out of the kitchen when Bernadine called softly, “Crys.”

She stopped and looked back.

“I just want you to have the future you've been dreaming about—not one where you're a teenager with a baby.”

“I'm not stupid enough to get pregnant.”

“You don't have to be stupid to get pregnant. Sometimes you just have to think you're in love.”

Crystal stilled as if she'd never thought about it that way. She then nodded as if she understood.

“See you later,” Bernadine told her, and watched her go. She thanked the lord for her, even on lockdown.

After a few minutes of introspective silence, Bernadine picked up her phone and called the parents of Amari, Eli, Preston, and Leah. If her guess was right, Crystal wouldn't be the only one painting the Jefferson fence in the morning.

Later, as she lay in bed mindlessly watching TV, she thought about all the day's happenings, and about Mal. He was such a bright light in her life. Marriage to him seemed the logical conclusion, but was it? Did they really need a ceremony and a cake to declare their commitment and love? They'd been together going on three years now, but for some reason the discussion had never come up, and she wondered if it was because neither of them were ready to put the issue on the table. They'd taken a few day trips together, but nothing overnight because of Crystal and the example Bernadine felt she needed to set. She often wished, though, that they could spend more time together alone as a couple.

That admission was a big step for her. She was fiercely independent and had become even more so since purchasing and running Henry Adams. And Mal was the same way, so much so that he'd never married. She wondered if maybe matrimony had never come up because neither of them really wanted it. There was no way of getting the answer without asking him, though. For now, she'd have to set it on a back burner—too much other stuff going on. She'd deal with it when things quieted down. As if cued, the ugly voice from the phone call resurfaced in her head and laughed long and hard.

Chapter 11

A
cross the street, Preston was in his bedroom, browsing the Internet for the latest news on the Hadron Collider, when the colonel came in. Both Paynes had been up to check on him because of the tumultuous day, but this time the colonel's unreadable features sent a chill of alarm through his blood. “Am I in trouble?”

“Depends on the answer to this question. Do you have an e-mail account that you've been keeping a secret?”

Preston couldn't help it. He began shaking. His mind raced like electrons in a particle accelerator as he tried to figure out how he'd been found out, and how long Reverend Paula might preach at his upcoming funeral, because he knew he was dead.

“Waiting on an answer, son.”

“Um. Is Mrs. Payne going to join us? She'd probably want to hear my answer, too.”

“No. This is going to be one of those father-son conversations.”

“Oh.” Preston really wanted Mrs. Payne there to keep the colonel from punishing him by making him do nine thousand pushups or something else marine-ish. Then again, if the colonel knew, she probably did, too, and was as upset as the man standing tall and straight over his chair right now.

“Amari and I just wanted to play—” Realizing he'd inadvertently given up his boy, he took in a deep breath to try and calm himself down.
Think Preston! Think!

Too late, however. The colonel was shaking his head as if he found the response pitiful or sorry or both.

“Didn't you and Amari get in enough trouble the last time for playing overage games?”

Preston had no answer.

The colonel did. “I guess not, so this is how it's going to go. I confiscate your phone, computer, and flat-screen for two weeks. You'll come straight home after school. No movies at the rec on Friday nights. No friends over, or calls on the landline, in or out, unless there's fire or blood involved.”

Preston slumped.

“And the reason I'm not yelling is because I spent my entire career yelling at recruits. You're not a recruit, you're my son. You already know how disappointed Mrs. Payne and I are.”

He did, but at least the colonel hadn't added—

“And in case you're thinking there won't be a fence involved in your immediate future, you're wrong.”

Preston's head dropped.
Damn!

“I'll be taking your laptop and phone now, son.”

He sighed and got up. After unplugging the laptop, he handed it over, along with his phone.

The colonel wasn't done. “I also need screen names and passwords for
every
account.”

Preston got a pen and wrote them down.

The colonel glanced at the list for a moment, then stared stonily into Preston's miserable eyes. “I'll see you at oh-six hundred. Good night.”

“Good night,” Preston whispered.

Alone, Preston sighed heavily. He felt like he was knee-deep in hell. How was he going to survive without Internet access and his phone? More importantly, how had the colonel learned about the secret accounts? He imagined Amari was being put through the same interrogation wringer by his dad and Ms. Lily, and that they were as mad as the colonel and Mrs. Payne. Had Crystal and Eli been busted too? He wanted to wail, but instead he put on his pajamas and climbed into bed. He and the colonel were just starting to get back into a groove, and now this—and it was all his fault.

Next door, a furious Jack stared at his stone-faced son, Eli. Bernadine's call had resulted in a shouting match that left him and his son viewing each other angrily. Jack was going through the hard drive on Eli's laptop, ripping open files, cookies, and history and finding enough incriminating evidence to send Eli to a parent's version of Sing Sing. “And what is Pink Panties?”

Jack had already figured out what type of site it was, but he wanted to hear it from Eli's lips.

“A porn site,” came the tight response.

Jack studied him. “Look, when I was sixteen, any chance I got to look at a naked girl, I took—I get that part—but when you get older, you realize how detrimental it is to women. They're more than tits and asses, Eli, and these sites are so full of viruses and malware, it's a wonder you don't need penicillin. And I now have the answer to why the in-house network is so screwed up.”

Eli wouldn't meet Jack's eyes.

“Do you know you and Pink Panties could make me lose my job? If Ms. Marie found this crap on my computer, I'd be toast! When you get your own place and pay your own bills, you can look at all the nasty you want, but as long as you're in
this
house, you will play by my rules, or not play at all. You got it?”

No response.

Jack held on to his temper. “I need an answer, because you're about two seconds from no electronic access ever again—and aren't you the one supposedly getting a car in the fall?”

The teen stiffened and looked up.

“Figured that would get your attention. If this happens again, you'll be riding your bike until you're thirty-five.”

Eli looked down at his shoes. “Okay.”

“In the meantime, everything you own that communicates belongs to me for the next two weeks. Phones, iPods, laptop, television—all of it, and starting tomorrow morning you'll be painting Ms. Marie's fence along with the rest of the We're So Slick Gang.”

“But that's—”

Jack cut him a look.

Eli closed his mouth.

A few minutes later, Jack had confiscated enough electronic devices to start his own store. “Good night, Eli. We'll be leaving at six
A.M
. Be ready to go.”

Jack left Eli standing in his bedroom, Jack went outside on the deck to cool off, and saw Barrett and Trent sitting on the Paynes' deck.

Barrett called, “We decided to have a mini Dads Inc. meeting so we can all cuss these kids in one spot. Come on over.”

Jack dropped his head and chuckled. Thank God for Henry Adams. He walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs.

“A little late for a beer, but grab one if you want,” Trent offered. Both men were holding cans.

“I'll pass, but thanks.”

Barrett asked, “So, Eli too?”

“Yeah. I was wondering why I was having so much trouble with my computer. Viruses from all the porn sites he's been viewing.”

“Porn?”

“Yes.”

“Gotta love 'em,” Trent said. “The two knuckleheads Barrett and I live with were doing adult video games. They were busted for the same sort of thing during their first summer in town. You'd think they'd've learned, but I was young and stupid once, too, painted that damn fence so many times, might as well have had my name on it.”

Jack looked up at the star-filled sky, and his wife's face shimmered across his mind's eye. He wondered if she was up there, smiling at his attempts to raise Eli. She always did have a wicked sense of humor. “So Amari and Preston just had the game sites.”

Trent chuckled softly against the night. “Amari also had a fake Facebook page. Was posing as a twenty-two-year-old NASCAR driver–slash–biker. Even had a picture of my cousin Griffin on his bike as his profile picture.”

Jack stared and laughed. “What?”

“My boy never does things by half. Had over a hundred so-called friends, all of them female. Last winter he swore he'd never be into girls. Now? I suppose I should be thankful the girls had clothes on.”

Jack ran his hands over his eyes. “I don't think I'm going to survive this.”

Barrett agreed. “Even having trained recruits all my life, this is way tougher.”

“We'll survive,” Trent countered. “We may be wearing straitjackets in a crazy house somewhere before it's over, but we will.”

He raised his beer can high. “To fatherhood.”

“Hear! Hear!” Barrett and Jack replied.

Trent added, “And may they all live long enough to have kids that drive them to drink, too.”

“Amen to that,” Jack cracked.

Silence settled between them for a few moments before Barrett said, “Switching gears for a minute. This thing with Bernadine really has me concerned.”

“Me, too,” Trent replied. “Wish I knew who it was. I can't believe someone would scare her like that. I've made some calls to put the word out, and everybody's outraged. Glad to know Sheriff Dalton's on the case, though. He'll find whoever it is if he has to turn over every rock between here and the border. In the meantime, we'll be keeping our eyes and ears open.”

Jack agreed. “Do you think it was the Stillwell guy everybody's talking about?”

“I don't know. He and I had a pretty frank one-on-one after he showed his behind at the Dog. He told me he'd leave her alone. We'll see.”

Trent set his now-empty beer can on the small table beside his chair and stretched. “I need to get going. See you all in the morning?”

“Bright and early,” Barrett said.

“And once they get to school, I have a surprise,” Jack informed them.

Trent began laughing quietly. “Should they be afraid?”

“Oh, yeah. It's going to be educational, but it's also going to teach them how lucky they are to have all the electronic bells and whistles they've been abusing.”

“I like it,” Barrett said.

“Whatever it is, you have my support.”

“Thanks. Oh, before I go, either of you know which one of them came up with this brilliant plan to create the dual accounts? I was too mad to think about that when I was grilling Eli.”

“I asked Amari, but all I could get was name, rank, and serial number.”

“Guess it doesn't really matter,” Barrett said. “They're busted regardless.”

Jack was satisfied. He rose to his feet. “Good night, guys.”

They gave him good-nights in response. When he reentered his house, he felt much better

T
he sun was just getting up when Crystal, Amari, Preston, and Eli were let out of their parents' trucks to begin their first morning of painting the Jefferson fence. They'd all brought their bikes along too, for the ride to school once they were done.

Trent stayed to help unload the gallons of whitewash, bags holding new brushes, tarps, and the rest of the items the painters would need, then tipped his hat and headed up the walk to visit with Marie for a minute before driving back to town.

Because Amari and Preston had done the fence before, they'd learned it was faster to work as a pair.

“Me and Amari'll take this end,” Preston explained to Crys and Eli. “You two take the end way down there, and we'll meet in the middle. One person paints inside, the other, outside.”

The novices nodded in agreement.

Amari pulled the new paint rollers out of a bag and grumbled, “And remember Ms. Marie expects us to clean up and stash everything in her barn before we leave.”

“Dad expects us to get to school on time, too,” Eli added.

Amari cursed. “What I want to know is how we got busted? Who told?”

Two denials came from Preston and Eli. Crystal said nothing.

Curious about that, Preston asked, “Crystal?”

She took one of the rollers from Amari. “Let's just paint. I don't want to be out here all day.”

“Hold up,” Amari declared. “Do you know how they found out? Yes or no?”

The three boys waited.

She blew out a breath. “If Ms. Bernadine hadn't gotten that stupid call, Diego's name never would've come up.”

Eli made the time-out sign with his hands. “Wait. What call? Diego called you?”

“No. Somebody called and threatened her life. I told her—”

Preston shook his head, “Back up. What are you talking about? Somebody threatened Ms. Bernadine's life?”

For the next few minutes she explained about the call, and Mal escorting her home.

Preston found the story unbelievable. “What! How come they didn't let us come to this meeting? Do they know who this person is?”

“Not yet.”

“That is so wrong on so many levels,” Eli said angrily. “She never hurt anybody.”

“I know,” she said. “I'm worried about her.”

Amari looked stunned. “Does this fool know how many people will kick his ass once we find out who he is?”

Preston replied, “Evidently not.”

“So what are the adults going to do?”

“She said Sheriff Will and his son in the FBI are looking into it.”

“Good,” Amari. “We need to keep an eye out, too.”

They were all silent for a moment as they digested the disturbing news. The town's benefactor meant a great deal to all of them.

Eli said, “Now, back to Diego. How's he figure into this?”

Crystal sighed. “I told Ms. Bernadine she needed to get a gun, because if anything happened to her, I didn't know what I'd do.”

“And?”

“And I said, I might run off with Diego,” she added in a small voice.

Eli folded his arms. “And?”

“And then she started grilling me about had I talked to him, and I lied, and she asked me if I had two accounts, because she monitors my e-mails, and it went to hell from there.”

Eli threw up his hands in disbelief. “You having the hots for this loser is what got us busted?”

Amari shook his head. “Diego doesn't care about you. You're still in high school. He's probably got women in every state.”

“Shut up!”

Preston sighed. “Okay, let's start painting. We're already behind.”

She grabbed a brush and stomped off.

Eli asked, “Why are girls so stupid?”

Amari grumbled, “We used to be able to blame it on that bad weave squeezing her brain too tight, but now it looks like she's just stupid, period.”

W
hile the boys painted and plotted Crystal's demise, an excited Riley was driving his old white truck to the airport. FUFA president Heather Quinn was flying in at 7:00
A.M.
to meet with him. During his phone call to her last weekend, she'd sounded interested in Cletus's case, but she wanted to personally check out the lay of the land before making a final decision, so Riley hoped to make a good impression.