Angel of Redemption (96 page)

“You did good, baby,” I whisper. He lets out a
puff of air and smiles. There’s a look of relief on his face. We stay for
another half hour, talking with teachers who commend Dean on his ability to
hold the kids’ attention and for telling his story so openly. I can tell when
he’s had enough. All his nervous, irritated habits come out at once. The second
there’s an opportunity, I politely make excuses.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper in his ear,
pulling him toward the door.

Dean

That was, by far, one of
the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But I’m glad I did it. Colin said it
was time. I don’t see him weekly anymore, just whenever I need to. He’s helped
me through a lot. He’s become a good friend.

Kayla and I drive home in silence. It’s been ten
months since she became my wife. Life has been crazy. We’ve had a huge rotation
in boys at Wyatt House. Curtis is long gone. After turning eighteen, he left
Wyatt House. I don’t know what happened to him
—he simply
disappeared. Eric and Edgar are just about to graduate. Both have been accepted
into college. Eric plans to attend Notre Dame and study theology. When he
decided that’s where he wanted to go, Emily helped him apply for several
scholarships and student loans. Wyatt House is also helping provide funding. He’ll
most likely still have to work, but I think he’ll be fine. Edgar is heading to
LSU. I’m impressed with both of them.

I ran into Jax not that long ago. He said he made
it to graduation living at the RTC he was transferred to after I had to let him
go. He’s got two kids with two different girls and is working his ass off to
support them, but he’s drug-free. He looked good, albeit tired. I can’t help
but wonder how well he would have done if I’d let him stay. I wish it had been
an option.

Brayden did so well at community college that he
was able to transfer to the University of Minnesota last year. He’s got one
more year before he graduates with a degree in computer technology. He’s
already working for a pretty big company as a programmer and makes more money
than I do. He and Caitlynn aren’t together anymore, but she and Claire are
still really tight, making for some awkward gatherings every now and then.
Brayden continues to be a huge player, but he’s a good kid.

Trey is still with us, but it hasn’t been without
its problems. After three years, I honestly don’t know what to make of him. I
doubt I ever will.

Kayla is amazing with the boys. Despite the fact
that most of them are bigger than she is, it didn
’t take long for her to
establish who’s boss. I find myself falling more and more in love with her all
the time. I was worried things would change after we got married, but they
haven’t. Not really. If anything, she’s more of a wildcat than she ever was.
She teases me and turns me on constantly. I still can’t get enough of her.

As I turn the corner onto our street, we see
Claire’s car in the driveway.

“Oh, Jesus. I hope Logan’s not being an ass
again,” Kayla sighs.

Logan’s been a handful over the last few years.
He tries, but he’s still a pretty messed-up kid. He and Claire have lived
together for a little over a year, but she’s kicked him out twice. He’s in and
out of therapy. Claire is patient with him, but when it comes to disrupting
Ellie, she doesn’t let him mess around.

“Hey,” Kayla calls to her sister as she steps out
of the car. Claire turns, a strained smile on her face. “What’s up?”

“Can you look after Ellie tonight? I’ve got class,
and Logan has to work late.”

Kayla hugs her sister. “Of course.”

I glance around. “Where
…?” But I don’t
have to finish my sentence. From the other side of the car, Ellie comes running
toward me.

I pick up my two-year-old niece. She looks just
like Logan with dark hair, big blue eyes, and dimples. I never really
understood what Kayla and Claire were talking about when they said they couldn’t
resist Logan’s dimples—at least, not until the very first time this
little girl smiled at me. Now, I get it. And I’m such a fucking sucker for her
smiles.

I can see Claire and Kayla talking quietly.
Claire shrugs and takes a deep breath. She’s matured a lot over the last few
years. She works full-time in a bakery and is going to night school for special
education. I know that Kayla and I can never make up for the loss of her
parents, but we do our best to support her however we can. I carry Ellie over
to her mother and put my arm around Claire’s shoulder, kissing her head.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi,” she says, leaning into me. “I gotta go, but
how’d your presentation go?”

“Good, I guess,” I say, shrugging.

“It went fantastic. Don’t let his modesty fool
you,” Kayla scoffs.

Claire laughs. “Good. Okay, I love you, baby,”
she whispers, planting a kiss on Ellie’s nose.

“Love you, Mommy,” Ellie’s high-pitched little
voice chimes.

“She’s had her nap. I gave her a cheese stick on
the way over, but she might still be hungry.” Claire hands Kayla the diaper
bag. “Thank you so much.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, setting Ellie down when
we get inside.

“Nothing. She’s just tired.”

“Have they figured out what they’re going to do
with El this summer?”

“Yeah.” Kayla grins. “Matty’s going to take care
of her.”

“No shit?”

“Dean!” she scolds. I glance over at the little
girl who is eyeballing the cookie jar on the countertop.

“Sorry.”

“He’s got until August before he has to head to
school, so he offered to help them out. No charge.”

Matty has grown up to be the kind of kid every
parent dreams of. He’s smart, athletic, and incredibly kind. He’s volunteered
at a Minneapolis Youth Center for the last two years as a mentor for young kids
from unstable homes. He’s still fairly soft-spoken—so different from his
brother. The relationship between the two of them has had its ups and downs,
but they’re as close as ever. Karen and Brian have been exactly what he needed.
His adoption was finalized a year after he was placed with them. They left it
up to him if he wanted to change his name. He did, in a way. He became Matthew
Davidson Brooks. He said he never wanted to forget where he came from.

Matthew Davidson Brooks is headed to Stanford in
the fall.

We spend the rest of the afternoon entertaining
Ellie. I’m much better at the uncle gig now than I used to be. I don’t really
give a shit what I look like anymore
—if it makes her laugh, I’ll
do it. It usually does make me look like a complete asshole, though.

Logan doesn’t show up until almost nine o’clock.
Ellie’s fallen asleep on the couch.

“Sorry,” he mutters, flopping down on the chair
and staring at his daughter. “How long’s she been asleep?”

“About an hour. What’s up?”

“Nothing. One of our guys is out, so I’m picking
up slack.” He runs his hand over his face.

“You want something to eat?” I offer.

“Nah. I ate at the shop. Thanks, though.”

“You look tired,” Kayla says, picking up Ellie’s
toys and stuffing them in the diaper bag.

“I am. And Claire’s gonna be pissed that I’m so
late.” He leans back and closes his eyes.

“You’re fine, Logan,” Kayla soothes. “She knew
you were working late. Take your baby girl and go home to your bed.”

Logan smiles up at her. “Are you kicking me out?”
he teases.

“Yep! You fall asleep in that chair and we’ll
both be in trouble with my sister.”

Logan chuckles before standing. He lifts Ellie up
into his arms. She doesn’t wake, just slumps over his shoulder like a sack of
potatoes.

“Thanks, guys,” he says, taking the diaper bag.

Once he’s left, Kayla goes and gets ready for bed
while I finish cleaning the kitchen. It’s only nine thirty when I turn out the
lights in the rest of the house and make my way to the bedroom, but we both
have to work in the morning and it’s been a long day both physically and
emotionally.

Stripping off my shirt, I quickly change into a
pair of pajama pants and sit down on the edge of the bed. My wife trails her
fingers over my back, first lower and then up toward my shoulder blades.

“You still can’t feel that?” she asks.

“I can feel it. I know you’re there.”

“But you can’t
feel it
feel it?
”

I shake my head. I had the scars on my back and
down my side removed last year with a series of laser treatments. It’s not
perfect, but the skin’s a lot smoother than it used to be. I never expected the
feeling to be restored, but the procedure wasn’t exactly painless
—especially
when they got to the lower layers—so Kayla suggested I get treatment to
see if they could restore sensation. Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked.

Kayla sighs. “I’m sorry.”

I lay back, my head in her lap. “What are you
sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” she says, running her fingers through
my hair. “But I got your hopes up.”

I chuckle lightly. “You got
your
hopes up, baby. I never expect anything.”

“That I know,” she laughs. We’re quiet for a few
minutes. Her fingers move toward my arm.

“I love that you added the color,” she whispers.

A few weeks ago, I had the original
representation of the Angel of Redemption tattooed on my arm, adding what I had
so thoughtlessly removed ten years ago.

“New life,” I answer. “Seems only appropriate.”

“Are you ready for it?”

I turn my head toward her. She’s looking at me
with concern. I take a deep breath and glide my hand gently over her slightly
swollen belly. She’s three months along. We found out four weeks ago. Well,
I
found out four weeks ago. Kayla’s known for about six or seven. She was afraid
to tell me because we weren’t trying. It was a matter of a birth control
glitch. She was trying to switch from the shot to the pill. We probably shouldn’t
have been having sex until we knew it was effective, but we were out drinking
with Warren and his new boyfriend, and things got a little crazy. She was all
over me in the cab on the way home, and we barely made it inside the house. It
was a fantastic night.

She sounded like me when she told me, mumbling
and stumbling over her words. I have to admit, I was in fucking shock, but it’s
been different over the last month. I’m not scared
—at least, not
any more than any guy usually is to become a father.

I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I love Kayla more
than life itself. She gave me my life back. And now, she’s giving me a new life
to look forward to.

I lean forward, pressing my lips against the soft
skin of her stomach.

“Absolutely,” I whisper.

To the many who have s
upported me
throughout the process of writing this story, posting it, and making the
decision to publish it, I cannot thank you enough. I hope I can make you proud.

To Mollie
,
who pushed me to follow the idea
,
and to Shawna
,
who
convinced me I could do thi
s.

To Kathy,
Lexie, Debi, and Mel
,
who worked tirelessly to help me put
this story together and who supported me over and over and over again. I’m not
sure there are words to tell you how much you all mean to me.

And to my
husband, who has had so much pati
ence while I’ve
explored this path. I love you.

J.A. Little is a wife and
mother who has been writing poetry and short stories since she was a child. She
enjoys using her knowledge and experience in child and social welfare as well
as mental health in her writing.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or
dead is purely coincidental.

F
ull Fathom Five Digital is an imprint
of Full Fathom Five

Angel of Redemption

Copyright © 2015 by J.A. Little

All rights reserved.

No part of this text may be used or reproduced in
any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in review, without
written permission from the publisher.

For information visit Full Fathom Five Digital, a
division of Full Fathom Five LLC, at

 
www.fullfathomfive.com

Cover design by Cow Goes Moo
^TM

ISBN
978-1-63370-091-8

First Edition