Bayview Heights Trilogy (31 page)

I was the usher at their wedding. Can you
believe it? After all that I did two months ago, they still want me
in their lives. Mitch says I have to care about myself to believe I
deserve to have people care about me. I’m trying.

I still miss Zorro. Cassie says that’s okay.
He was like a brother to me, and just because he went bad doesn’t
mean my feelings for him disappeared. Sometimes I just can’t
believe he’s dead. When I get down, I try to talk to somebody--Mary
Margaret, Kurt, Mitch or Cassie. They even put me in touch with the
anti-gang specialist in New York, and he helps me to see why I got
involved with the Blisters to begin with.

Mostly, I’m just grateful for another chance.
Cassie says she got one when she was my age, too, and look how cool
she turned out. I still feel guilty about all the trouble I caused
them. She says that’s okay, she feels guilty, too, sometimes, about
the things she did in her past. It keeps her honest. Mitch says
Cassie and I are a lot alike, but Cassie says I’m really more like
him. I consider both comparisons compliments.

Two letters came today: a scholarship
notification and a letter from Columbia University. I always knew I
was smart, but now the tests prove it out. A National Merit
Finalist. That means I’ll get money to go to Columbia, which of
course had the good sense to accept me. I’ll be working at the
clinic because Kurt’s footing some of the bills, too.

Not bad for a punk like me, huh?

Mitch’s Journal

I’LL NEVER FORGET what she looked like coming
down the aisle on Seth’s arm. Her face glowed, and her smile was
just for me. I pushed for the church wedding. She’d wanted to
elope, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I insisted on a traditional
wedding, with all the trimmings. She wore an ivory lace dress that
couldn’t hide her curves but made her look young and innocent. In
keeping with tradition—she says it just shows how much I like
rules—I provided something old, something new, something borrowed
and something blue. I gave her the sexiest light blue undies you
ever saw and told her to wear them beneath her gown. Her engagement
ring was old—it had been my mother’s—and it looked right on her
hand. Her wedding band, of course, was new. The borrowed part gave
me pause and I fudged a bit on that. I
borrowed
a saying
from one of her posters, and had it engraved on a bracelet for her.
It read, “Teaching Someone To Love Is The Greatest Gift.

The ceremony was a real tearjerker. At the
altar, Seth handed her over to me and said, “Take care of her for
me, Mitch.”

Of course, Cassie’s eyes filled, then she
took my hand and said, “Ready, big guy?”

“I’m ready, love,” I told her, and we took
our places next to Kurt and Zoe.

Johnny was at the altar, too, right where he
should be.

Cass and I are still fighting over her name.
I want her to have mine—that’s the
right
way—but the most
she’ll give in to is to hyphenate it, Smith-Lansing.

We can’t agree on where to live, so we’ve
still got two houses.

But we both want a baby soon. How did she put
it that day—our own little bundle of sugar and spice? We planned
the wedding right before spring break so we can work on that in the
Caribbean.

All in all, I’m a pretty lucky guy.

Cassie’s Journal

THE WEDDING WAS LOVELY, even if I did
initially fight against having it in a church. Yeah, I said church.
Can you imagine? I got married in a church. In front of God and
half of Bayview Heights High School. But Mitch wanted it, and ever
since he was almost killed, it seems I can’t say no to him about
anything. Of course, he takes advantage of it every chance he gets.
And God, he looked so sexy in his tuxedo, I wanted to rip his
clothes off right there at the altar.

Almost all the At-Risk kids came, including
Joe DeFazio. He’s back in school, and even though he won’t graduate
with his class, I think he’s going to make it. He tells me he’s
saving up to replace some of my books, but I told him it’s not
necessary. His coming back is enough.

Johnny’s doing great. He was bursting with
pride to be an usher for Mitch—they’re pretty tight these days. Meg
was at the service, too, and all three of them conspired to get me
to dance at the reception.

Mitch came to my house two hours before the
wedding, even though it’s bad luck to see the bride on the day of
the ceremony. He insisted on every other damn tradition, I’m
surprised he broke this one. But I was glad he did. He kicked Zoe
out. Then he made the sweetest love to me ever. It brought tears to
my eyes. When I asked him what that was all about, he said it was
insurance so I didn’t jilt him at the altar.

Fat chance. I may have made some stupid
decisions in my life and done some dumb things, but I’m not about
to let go of the best thing that ever happened to me.

I’m so lucky. I’ve got so much. Mitch.
Johnny. Friends like Zoe and Seth. When I was fifteen, I never
thought my life would end up like this.

I guess it just goes to show you, “If you
want the rainbow, you have to put up with the rain.”

Dear Reader,

Whenever I’m asked what my favorite Harlequin
book is, I always choose COP OF THE YEAR. There’s something about
this novel that just makes it stand out. Everything seemed to go
right in it—the unique characters, the setting, the kids in school,
the chilling gang backdrop and of course, the wonderful love story.
I was so glad I got to write this one as part of a trilogy because
Cassie, Mitch and Johnny appear in all three.

This book made me cry in several places. The
story’s sadness is generated by two things: the Vietnam war and its
effect on the men who went to fight and the sometimes hopelessness
of kids in high school today. Both come together to give the book
its essence.

On a personal note, I was a high school
teacher, too, and the unit that Cassie does with her kids is one of
mine. I created and taught all these activities in my Humanities
class and every year invited a Vietnam veteran to come in to speak
to the kids. Some of the stories told in the book—like the rescue
in a rice paddy—really happened to one of them.

I guess it’s no wonder that I loved the book
so much. I hope you did, too.

Kathy Shay

-o0o-

By
Kathryn Shay

BARKER ISLAND PRISON loomed before Lacey
Cartwright like a modern-day Alcatraz. Located on a desolate piece
of land about two hours west of New York City, the island epithet
was appropriate because of the prison’s remoteness. Lacey took a
deep breath, reached for the door handle of her car and shook off
the horror she felt every time she thought of her younger brother
Kevin incarcerated in this hellhole.

What must it be like for him to be cooped up
here? In the dim twilight, as she exited the car and approached the
entrance, she could still see five-year-old Kevin looking up at her
and pleading as she put him to bed,
Don’t shut the door, Lace.
I can’t stand being closed in
.

She gazed ahead of her. Even the outer doors
of the monolith were huge—steel things that she could barely open;
frustrated, she yanked at them until they gave way.

“Ma’am.” The grizzled man with blank eyes at
the security desk nodded. He wore a drab gray uniform with Hanley,
Corrections Officer, printed on his name tag.

She nodded back.

“Name?” He followed the procedure even though
she’d been here so often in the last six months she knew he
recognized her.

“Lacey Cartwright.”

“Inmate?”

My baby brother
. “Kevin
Cartwright.”

The guard retrieved a wire-mesh basket from a
sturdy shelf and handed it to her. Going through the familiar
routine, she removed her jacket and deposited it inside the
container, along with her purse. Purposefully she avoided Hanley’s
eyes because the first few times she’d come here, taken off her
coat and surrendered her belongings, she’d seen a leering look on
his face that had made her skin crawl. She barely glanced at him as
she held up a manila folder. “I’d like to keep this.”

Hanley nodded as his beefy fingers took the
slim file. He checked it and returned it to her.

Without a word, he pointed to the steel
archway— a state-of-the-art metal detector. Sucking in a breath,
Lacey walked through it. She heard the loud snick of the inside
steel-core door unlocking. She dragged it open and took a seat in
the waiting room.

She’d stuck a copy of tonight’s
Bayview
Herald
in the folder, thinking she’d check it during the usual
wait for Kevin to be summoned. When she shook open the newspaper,
she came face-to-face with the person responsible for her brother’s
imprisonment.

Seth Taylor.

From the front page, he stared up at her, his
grin broad, his wide shoulders relaxed, his eyes twinkling at the
camera. The assistant editor’s headline,
Taylor Voted Educator
of the Year
, screamed across the top of the article. As
editor, Lacey hadn’t wanted to run the story, but she’d had no
choice—it was big community news. She’d sent her assistant to cover
it.

Lacey
had
managed, however, to
finish an incisive editorial on student violence at the high
school. Principal Seth Taylor wouldn’t be happy to see that
published on the School Page of the paper.

She studied his picture and remembered when
she’d gone to see him eight years before to plead for her brother.
Taylor hadn’t been smiling then.

Please, give him another chance
,
Lacey had begged him.

I can’t. Not only did he hit two students
this time, he attacked a teacher. Jerry Bosco says Kevin punched
him. I have no choice.

Kevin says he didn’t hit Bosco.

Taylor had stiffened and she thought she saw
a hint of doubt cross his face. But he’d said,
I have to
support my staff, Ms. Cartwright. And I won’t tolerate violence in
my school. Kevin has been given several warnings. I’m
sorry.

Lacey sighed. Taylor’s hard line with her
brother had been the beginning of a downward spiral that had taken
sixteen-year-old Kevin from Hillside School for Troubled Teens to
Barker Island Prison to serve a five-year stint for grand theft and
assault.

And precipitated her grandfather’s heart
attack.

And brought her back from her job as a
reporter on the
L.A. Times
to run the
Herald
.

Damn, if only Taylor had been more
compassionate, things might be different today.

Her negative thoughts were interrupted by the
creak of another iron door. A second somber-faced guard with a scar
running from his ear to his jaw glanced into the room. She’d seen
this guy, too. Cramden. He said little and stared hard at all
visitors as if he could read their minds. “You here for
Cartwright?”

“Yes.” Lacey stood, dropped the paper on the
chair and braced herself.

“Come on.”

Upon entering the visitation sector, Lacey
spotted Kevin sitting at one of the tables. Other than the guard,
no one else occupied the room. Lacey suspected the cold, windy
October weather on top of the remote location had kept visitors
away.

Pasting a smile on her face, she approached
her brother. “Hi, buddy.”

Kevin lazed back in his chair, the perpetual
sneer hardening his mouth. “Hi, sis.”

“How are you tonight?”

He folded his arms over his thin chest. In
the six months he’d been here, Lacey would bet he’d lost at least
fifteen pounds. “Just peachy. It’s been a wonderful day at Barker
Island Resort and Golf Club.”

After a brief hesitation, she reached across
the table to touch him. This particular prison was a newer
facility, and as a medium-security jail, it had been designed with
open visiting areas. All that separated Lacey from Kevin was a half
wall, so she could squeeze his arm.

Kevin drew back, but before she dropped her
hand, he lifted his left one to briefly cover hers. “Sorry. I’m a
jerk.”

“I don’t blame you, honey.” She glanced
around the room. “This is a horrible place. You’re entitled.”

“How’s Grandpa?” Kevin asked.

“Good. He’s still ticked off that the
doctor’s limiting his visits to once a month.”

Kevin’s face sobered. “He shouldn’t come at
all. Any change in his condition?”

“He’s doing okay—recovering well.”

“Thanks to you.” Lacey shook her head but
Kevin protested her denial. “Yeah, it is. If you hadn’t come home
to take over the paper when they railroaded me into this place,
Grandpa would be in a lot worse shape.”

“I wanted to come home. I wanted to be here
for you and him.”