After The Fire (One Pass Away Book 3) (2 page)

“The police.” Hands shaking, Wynona picked at the label on
the bottle. “Your father hit a girl, Gaige.”

“Son of a—” Gaige felt his temper rise, but unlike his
father, he didn’t let his anger take over. He breathed deeply, finding his
center. He could hear Terrance Aldridge’s voice telling him to channel his emotions—use
them. The ability to focus his energy in a positive way was one of the reasons
he was such a successful quarterback. Nothing fazed him on the football field.
It wasn’t always as easy in real life.

“They arrested him at our home, holding him down like an
animal. He was injured and they didn’t care, Gaige. He was,” Wynona swallowed. “They
say he was drunk. But it isn’t true. It was raining and dark. He didn’t mean to
hurt anyone.”

That might be true
, Gaige thought. But if someone
told him his father purposefully ran the girl down, he wouldn’t have doubted
it. Don Benson was a nasty bastard. Mean—to the bone.

“Is Aunt Marjorie with you?”

“She went to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”

“Is she bringing you back something?”

Wynona shook her head. “I couldn’t. Please, Gaige. Speak
with the police. You’re famous. They’ll believe you.”

“Are the police here in the hospital?”

“They are in with your father. He wouldn’t speak with them
until he had a lawyer.”

“A public defender?” It was a silly question. His father
couldn’t afford anything else.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He took his mother’s hand, drawing her to her feet. “Here’s
what we’ll do. I’m going to take you to the cafeteria. You’ll sit with Aunt
Marjorie and eat something.”

“Oh, but—”

“A bowl of soup. While you’re doing that, I will speak with
the police.”

“Promise?” Her voice was weak but held a thread of hope.

“I promise.”

Gaige made sure she was settled with a steaming bowl of
potato chowder before making his way to his father’s room. It turned out he
could have found it without a number. The police officer posted outside the
door was a dead giveaway to the location.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The stocky officer shifted his stance,
blocking the door, as Gaige approached. “The prisoner isn’t allowed any
visitors at the moment.”

“I understand. I’m Gaige Benson, Officer Llewellyn.”

Use a person’s name whenever possible
—another tip
from Terrance Aldridge.
He will appreciate you making the effort and
your
chances of getting your way increase exponentially
. The first thing Gaige
had done when he had the chance was look up exponentially. He then used the
word, and the advice, every chance he got.

The policeman shook Gaige’s outstretched hand.

“Your father?”

Gaige could hear the sympathy in the man’s voice.

“Yes, sir. My mother called me last night and I just got in
from Los Angeles. Is there anything you can tell me? She said my father had
been drinking.” That was the opposite of what she had said. But Gaige knew the
truth, even if his mother refused to face it.

“It’s pretty cut and dried, son. His blood alcohol level was
well over the legal limit. He’s already been arrested. The charges are in flux
depending on what happens with the girl he hit.”

“Is it bad? The girl? Will she be all right?” Gaige
swallowed hard, dreading the answer.

“She’ll survive. But her injuries might be permanent.”

“Was she paralyzed?” Jesus. It made him sick thinking of the
possibility.

“I’ve said too much, son.” The officer nodded toward a chair
by the opposite wall. “Why don’t you wait over there? As soon as Sergeant
Wilcox and Inspector Prescot are finished, you can see your dad.”

Gaige had checked his watch before he sat down. He thumbed
through a copy of
Sports Illustrated
that someone had left behind.
Inside was an interview he had given after being chosen first in the NFL draft.
It was standard stuff, veering away from any in-depth questions about his
family. His agent steered the press away from that subject, and so far, his
wishes had been honored.

Once his father was convicted of whatever he was charged
with, that was bound to change. Gaige had to prepare himself for the inevitable
firestorm. Until now, he was the anointed golden boy. The press had treated him
with kid gloves. Word would travel fast, and the gloves would come off.

Gaige tossed the magazine aside. He would deal with that
when it happened. Right now, he was worried about his mother. And the poor girl
whose life his father had done his best to ruin.

The door opened twenty minutes later. A man in his forties
and a woman at least ten years younger exited the hospital room.

“I have been on the job almost twenty years. Twenty years!”
The man shook his head. “I’ve dealt with some assholes but that guy takes the
cake.”

“He’s going away, Charlie. Just keep telling yourself that.”

“But blaming that poor girl? She had the nerve to cross his
street. So what if
he
ran the red light. So what if
she
had the
right of way. I wanted to punch the smug smile off the bastard’s mouth. Why the
hell was he smiling?”

“Got me.”

“Uh, Lieutenant?”

“What is it, Llewellyn?”

“That fella over there? That’s, uh…”

The plainclothes officers looked Gaige over. Neither had a
welcoming expression.

“Jesus. Spit it out. Who is he?”

Gaige stood, pulling his shoulders back. “I’m Gaige Benson.
The asshole’s son.”

DOING THE RIGHT thing could be a major pain in the ass. And the
back. And create a headache the size of the Grand Canyon. Dealing with the
police had been a breeze. They were professional and sympathetic to his mother’s
plight. They offered to explain the situation to her one more time, but as much
as Gaige would have loved to dump it into their laps, he knew she wouldn’t
listen to them or believe them. As far as Wynona was concerned, Don Benson
could do no wrong. No matter how many split lips or black eyes she suffered
through—it was always someone else’s fault.

Gaige hadn’t bothered to speak with his father. He knew the
confrontation was inevitable, but for today, he couldn’t face the whining, the
contempt, or the lies. He wanted to get his mother home and settled for the
night. Then find a dark, anonymous bar where, fingers crossed, nobody knew his
name, and enjoy a solitary shot of whiskey. Maybe two.

“Why are you staying in a hotel?” his mother asked for the
third time. “There’s plenty of room here at home.”

Home
? Gaige wanted to inform his mother that 265
Birdside Ave, Apartment 6B, had been anything but that. It had been a prison. A
place of fear and pain. Somewhere to lay his head for a few hours.
But home
?
Never.

It was difficult enough standing in the tiny kitchen. The
walls seemed to be closing in on him. He didn’t want to wait for the tea his
mother insisted on brewing. But he wasn’t a kid desperate for escape. He had
made it out. An hour visiting with his mother wouldn’t kill him.

“I have some business in Manhattan. It’s easier if I make it
my base.”

Wynona carefully arranged some cookies on a blue plate with
a flower pattern circling the rim. She didn’t have many nice things. The china
passed to her from her mother was her pride and joy. She kept the set in an out
of the way cupboard, away from her volatile husband and his propensity for
breaking things. But having her son at home, no matter the unfortunate
circumstances, was a cause to take out a piece or two.

“I should be at the hospital. What if your father asks for
me?”

“Sit down, Wy.” Marjorie Campbell took the cookies from her
sister’s nervous fingers. “Let the nurses deal with Don for a few hours. At
least
they
get paid for it. All you get is—”

A slap in the face
? Gaige thought. But Marjorie loved
her sister too much to say it. She met Gaige’s gaze and shrugged. What was the
point? After years of begging Wynona to leave the bastard, he had taken care of
that all by himself. Don Benson was not coming home. Hopefully, not for a long,
long time.

“Gaige.” Marjorie grasped onto a more pleasant subject. “Are
you excited to start your professional career, or are you sorry college is
over?”

“Both.” He smiled when his aunt set a cup of tea in front of
him. “College was great. I learned a lot. Met some amazing people. But I’m
ready for the next step.”

“Seattle.” Wynona sighed. “It’s so far away. We’ll never see
you.”

In the last four years, Wynona had seen her son exactly
twice. Both times at Marjorie’s apartment on Staten Island. Yale wasn’t far
away, but Gaige might as well have lived three thousand miles away.

“My offer still stands. Move to Washington. There are some
wonderful little towns around Seattle. Aunt Marjorie has retired from teaching.
She can come with you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Wynona sent him a horrified look. “What
about your father? He needs me.”

“Mom.” Exasperated, Gaige tried to temper the tone of his
voice. “He’s going to prison.”

“But—”

“No buts, Mom. It will happen. He hit that girl while
driving drunk—without a license. And he took off. He didn’t stop to see if she
were okay. He didn’t call for help. She could have died. Do you understand?
This time, it isn’t about
you
refusing to press charges. He will stand
trial. The only question is how long the judge will give him. With his past
DUIs, it doesn’t look like he’ll be out any time soon.”

“He needs you to stand behind him, Gaige.” Wynona pleading
eyes met his. “He’s your father.”

That argument stopped working when Gaige was eight years
old. A little boy could hold onto the belief that his father would somehow
become a good man. There comes a moment when that belief turns to despair.
Gaige had all the hope beaten out of him long before his ninth birthday.

“You get some rest.” Gaige kissed Wynona’s cheek. “I’ll see
you in the morning.”

“I’ll be at the hospital first thing,” she called after him.

“At the hospital then.”

Gaige closed the apartment door. He breathed in deeply. The
hall smelled of boiled cabbage with an overlay of urine. It didn’t matter.
Anything was better than the stench of lies and delusion he had left with his
mother. It would never change. She would never change.

But he had. He got out. And nothing would drag him back.

Gaige trotted down the front steps, searching for a cab.
Luck was with him. He hailed the yellow taxi just before it passed him by.

“Where to?” asked the cabbie.

“Anyplace but here.”

“I get it, buddy. But I need an address.”

Gaige rattled off the address of his hotel, then sat back
with a sigh. One more day. Two at the most. He chanted the mantra all the way
to Manhattan.

ONE WEEK LATER Gaige wondered if life was playing some
elaborate joke on him. Or was it karma? He had been too happy. Too certain his
dream had finally become a reality. And now he was paying the price for letting
his guard down.

“Why the hell are you still in Brooklyn?”

“This isn’t Brooklyn, Walter. It’s hell.”

Gaige had taken refuge in the men’s room two flights up from
where she was keeping vigil at his father’s bedside. How embarrassing was that?

“Is that an echo?”

“I’m hiding from my mother.”

“In a tunnel?”

“In a stall in a public bathroom. They have a psych ward on
the seventh floor. A few more days of this and you’ll need a doctor’s
permission to speak with me. Padded cells and straitjackets, here I come.”

“Shit.” Gaige could picture Walter running a hand through
his thinning hair. “I’ll be on the next flight. Brooklyn. Did you hear that? I
shuddered at the thought.”

“Save yourself the aggravation. They say my father is well
enough to be transferred to Rikers Island. He’ll be arraigned day after
tomorrow. No chance he’ll get out on bail. Even if the judge sets a price, no
one will pay it.” Though his mother would plead, Gaige wasn’t spending a dime
to let Don Benson see the light of day.

“Three more days? That’s set in stone?”

“If you don’t see me by the end of the week, send in the
Marines.”

“You joke, but I might just do that.”

Gaige was still chuckling as he walked toward the elevator.
Speaking with Walter always lifted his spirits. He could vent his frustrations
without worrying about hurting his agent’s feelings. It seemed no matter what
Gaige said to his mother, it was the wrong thing. Walter had the hide of a
rhinoceros—nothing penetrated it.

“Damn it. Hello? Is anybody there?”

Gaige slowed when he heard a woman’s voice calling from a
nearby room.

“Hello? Come on! I’ve been pushing this stupid buzzer for
the last five minutes.”

Looking through the open door, Gaige didn’t know what he
would find, but he was surprised to see a body hanging precariously over the
side of the bed. Her leg was in a cast resting on a bed of pillows. Her arm,
also set in plaster, stuck straight up in the air.

“Hey!” He rushed forward when she began to slip from the
mattress. Fast feet and quick reflexes were all that saved her from hitting the
floor. “Easy. Let me help you.”

“Thanks. With my luck, I would have been lying in a heap for
the rest of the day. I was beginning to think this was like something from a
crazy slasher movie.”

“Where you wake up alone? The hospital completely deserted?”

“Are you a fan of those flicks?”

“Will you hate me if I say no?”

“Not a problem.” She laughed. Gaige noticed the bandages
wrapped around her head, covering her eyes. Her light brown hair was pulled
back into a long ponytail. “My boyfriend tried to get me hooked. Bare-breasted
women running around in ridiculously high heels? Sorry. Not my thing.”

Gaige couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. Her full lips
smiled as though she didn’t have a care in the world even though her injuries
said otherwise. It put his whining to Walter in perspective. He was young,
strong, and healthy, yet all he could do was go around crying
poor me
.
This young woman had problems, but her laughter rang out clear as a bell. Gaige
felt ashamed of himself.

“Did I put you off with my ramblings?”

“No. Bare-breasted women? I
am
a fan. And, I was
wondering how much time I had to charm you before your boyfriend shows up?”

She laughed again, drawing Gaige in. “No boyfriend. Not
anymore. It was, love me, love my taste in movies. I chose to drop him and love
romantic comedies.”

“Smart.”

“I thought so.” She held out her hand. “I’m Violet.”

“Gaige.” Her hand felt tiny in his. Soft. It was ridiculous,
but he didn’t want to let go. Violet wasn’t asking for it back, so Gaige
indulged his whim and held on.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Thank God. I didn’t think there was a person in this
hospital under the age of forty. Can you stay for a few minutes? There’s a
chair in here someplace. Pull it up next to the bed and talk to me. It is so
boring just lying here all day. I’m nineteen, by the way.”

Gaige looked around, spotting the chair on the other side of
the room. Releasing Violet’s hand, he retrieved the chair.

“You can stay?”

“As long as you like.”

“That’s a relief. I was afraid I scared you away. I tend to
ramble when I’m nervous.”

Gaige sat, scooting closer until his knees touched the side
of the bed.

“Nervous? I hope I’m not the problem.”

“God, no. I’m hardly a Victorian virgin seconds away from a
fit of vapors because I’m alone with a man.” Violet lowered her voice, her
eyebrows waggling above the bandages. “The whole virgin thing left on a
westbound train long ago.”

“Why west?” Gaige couldn’t help but ask. She was
fascinating. Perky without that annoying, rah-rah crap. Every word out of her
mouth was a delightful surprise. He couldn’t wait to hear what she would say
next.

“The boy I dated in high school left the day after
graduation.”

“Let me guess. On a westbound train?”

“Right the first time. The University of New Jersey.”

“That isn’t far.”

“Hello! New Jersey! No. Thank. You.”

Gaige grinned. “Snob?”

“No. It was an excuse. I hated to tell him he was a lousy
lover. So I used New Jersey. I almost panicked when he offered to switch
schools. Luckily, it was the only one he got into. And that was because of
family connections.”

“Sounds like he was bad in bed
and
stupid.”

“True,” Violet sighed. “But he looked great in his
basketball uniform.”

Gaige frowned. “You have a thing for athletes?”

“Nope. But Lane has great legs. I sat in the bleachers and
read a book. He only played a couple of minutes a game. When he was in, I
admired his gams.”

Gaige relaxed. He barely knew her. In all likelihood, he
would never see her again. But he hadn’t wanted Violet to be an athletic
groupie. “Gams. Great word.”

“I was born sixty years too late. Can’t you see me as a
tough-talking dame backing up Humphrey Bogart or James Cagney?”

“I’m not much of a film buff.”

“That’s okay. When I go off on a tangent, call me back.”

“Violet?”

“Mom?”

Gaige turned, standing when he saw a woman in her forties
enter the room. She was pretty. Her light brown hair cut in a flattering
chin-length bob. When he looked into her dark brown eyes, he wondered if they
were the same color as Violet’s.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Your father needed the car this morning
and the subway was running late.”

“That’s okay. Gaige kept me company. Gaige, this is my
mother, Sophia Reed.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Wary, Violet’s mother placed herself between Gaige and her
daughter.

“How do you two know each other?”

“I was about to fall out of bed and Gaige saved me.” Unaware
of her mother’s misgivings, Violet laughed. “That reminds me, do either of you
see my CD player? It fell off my bed and I was trying to find it when Gaige
saved the day.”

“Here you go.” Gaige reached under the bed, retrieving the compact
disc player and a set of earphones. “I should get going.”

“Will you come back tomorrow?”

“Violet! I’m sure that Gaige has better things to do than
entertain you.”

“Actually, I don’t.” Other than get back to Seattle and
prepare for training camp. But Violet and her mother didn’t need to know that.
Besides, he had two weeks. Suddenly, sticking around Brooklyn didn’t seem like
the end of the world.

“Then you’ll come back?”

Violet’s smile widened and at that moment, Gaige would have
moved heaven and Earth to make her happy.

“Tomorrow.”

Violet waved. Her mother didn’t look as enthusiastic but she
didn’t say anything. Gaige could understand her reticence. He was a stranger.
But that was about to change. With a bounce in his step that he hadn’t felt for
over a week, Gaige headed for the elevator. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

“WASN’T HE NICE?” Violet could still feel Gaige’s hand holding
hers. It was so large. Callused. Not soft like the boys she knew. A man’s hand.

“Who is he, Violet?”

“Just someone who saw a girl in need and saved her from a
tumble off the bed.”

“Then stuck around.”

“Because I asked him to. What’s wrong with that?”

“He’s…”

“What?” Violet wished she could see her mother’s face. It
was so frustrating not to be able to read expressions.

“Too good looking.”

“What does that mean?”

“What is a man who looks like he stepped off the cover of a
magazine doing hanging around a hospital?”

“He’s probably visiting someone. If it makes you feel
better, I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

“It would make me feel better.”

“Now that we’ve settled that, tell me what Gaige looks like.”

“His looks are irrelevant, Violet Marie.”

“That good, huh?”

“Not the point.”

“True. I can’t see him.” There was a pause. When Violet
spoke, there was a different tone. Sad. “Maybe I never will.”

“Don’t think that way. The doctors are hopeful you’ll regain
your sight.”

“Hopeful.” Violet sighed. “That isn’t terribly scientific.”

“Well, wrap your logical mind around a little faith.
Sometimes trusting in God isn’t a bad thing.”

“What if your God doesn’t want me to be a doctor?”

“
My
God?”

“You know I have questions, Mom. Doubts. This accident hasn’t
helped.”

“I see it differently. God was watching out for you. You’re
here. Alive. When those casts come off, you’ll be as good as new.”

“Except for my eyes.”

“Baby.” Violet felt the mattress shift just before her
mother pulled her close. “When the doctor examines you on Friday, we’ll know
more. If you can’t put your faith in God, put it in science.”

“You’re okay with that?” Close to tears, Violet held them
back by teasing her mother.

“Of course. Who do you think made scientists?”

“God?”

Her mother’s arms tightened. “Exactly.”

“Okay. I’ll keep an open mind.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Good.” Violet waited while her mother fluffed her pillows. “So
tell me? What
does
Gaige look like?”

THE NEXT MORNING, Gaige arrived at the hospital with a new
attitude. There was no sense of dread as he walked through the doors. He sent a
smile toward the nurse at the reception desk, causing the overworked woman to
sigh. He entered the elevator, with a dozen pink roses, whistling a random
tune.

Calvin Iannetta, an orderly Gaige had become friendly with,
wheeled in a cart filled with mostly empty trays and the remains of that
morning’s breakfast.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Why not? Did you see that sky? Nothing but blue.”

“Who are the flowers for? I’m guessing pink isn’t your
father’s color.”

Calvin knew Gaige’s situation. Or at least, the basic
details.

“I brought them for a friend.”

“Good on you, son.”

Calvin wheeled the cart out on the next floor, leaving Gaige
alone in the elevator. Good on, him? That sounded right. He couldn’t remember
the last time his mind had been filled with something other than his family or
football. But last night, he hadn’t hit the bar, needing a whiskey neat to help
loosen the tension in his shoulders. He went to his room. Watched a little
SportsCenter
.
Then studied some tape from Seattle’s last season. And as he drifted off to
sleep, he thought about Violet.

Gaige had questions. What had happened to her? How long
would she be in the hospital? But if he asked, so would she. He didn’t want to
lie to Violet. However, there was no way in hell he would tell her about his
father. He was ashamed to admit that he was Don Benson’s son. Violet didn’t
need to know. Why burden her with something so dark and ugly?

As it had been yesterday, her door was open. Gaige paused
just inside the room, looking at the slight form in the bed. It was hard to
tell since she was lying down, but he estimated her height to be above average.
Maybe five seven or eight. Violet was slender. Like her hand, her build
appeared delicate. But Gaige knew there was an underlying strength. He felt it
in her grip. Even more, he heard it in her voice. Violet Reed was a fighter.
Gaige would have bet his hefty signing bonus on it.

“Roses?”

“You can smell them from over there?”

“Gaige! You came. I’m so glad.”

The genuine delight in her greeting warmed Gaige’s heart. He
hadn’t imagined the way she made him feel. Lighter. Happy. With only a few
words, Violet made his world a little brighter. Without thought, Gaige walked
toward her, needing to get closer to the source.

“I said I would.”

“People say a lot of things.” Violet shrugged. “Sometimes
they lie—out of kindness. You said yes when the blind girl begged you to visit
her. I’m a little embarrassed by the way I acted. I wouldn’t have blamed you if
you hadn’t shown up.”

“I always keep my word, Violet.” Gaige took her hand and
squeezed. She couldn’t see the sincerity in his eyes, but she could hear
him—feel his touch. “Always. And there was nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re
an open, enthusiastic person. I like that. I like
you
.”

Violet’s smile became a little shy.
She’s nineteen
,
Gaige reminded himself. For all her talk, he doubted she was very experienced.

“I like you, too. May I have my flowers?”

“How do you know they’re for you?”