Officer Jones (12 page)

She immediately knew she’d stepped over the line. She likely wanted to get things off her chest, not commit assault and battery. And she was sharp enough to realize that it wasn’t a smart move to beat up a handicapped American hero in a public place. Small town gossip could be relentless.

I remained on the ground, playing the empathy card to the hilt. Nothing else was working. Gwen gathered my cap and cane, and reached down to help me up, which I stubbornly refused.

I rolled onto my strong side and maneuvered to a kneeling position, before pushing myself to my feet. I begrudgingly accepted the cap and cane without as much as a thank you.

After dusting myself off, I said, “One of my best friends was paralyzed, and our guide was killed on that so-called publicity stunt.”

“I’m sorry, JP … I didn’t know … I was totally out of line.”

This time I accepted her apology, but wasn’t ready to talk about Byron. I had become an expert at holding stuff in to let it boil and fester. I called it intestinal fortitude, while Christina referred to it as the first warning sign of my inevitable stroke. So I did what I do so well—I changed the subject.

“It’s good to know I still bring out the best in you,” I said, testing the rough waters with a grin.

That’s when I noticed a slight smile escape from Gwen’s lips. It was the smile I had longed to see for all those years.

Chapter 28

The moment was fleeting. Seemingly appearing out of nowhere, a uniformed Rockfield police officer came up behind Gwen. I was still feeling the effect of the smile, and playfully said, “Thank you for you concern, officer, but I don’t plan to press charges.”

When I took a closer look, I realized it was Jones. The man was everywhere. A small, dark-haired boy rode piggyback on his shoulders. He set the child down and they slapped smiling high-fives. The boy ran to Gwen and hugged her, before rambling on about his ride on the roller coaster.

Jones put his arm around Gwen, marking his territory. “So who brings out the best in my girl?”

Gwen made the introduction. She referred to me as her “childhood friend” and simply called him Kyle. No mention of the BF word, even if it was implied. We awkwardly shook hands, before informing her that we’d already met.

“Congratulations on your award,” I said, trying to buy some time to wake up from my worst nightmare—maybe that was the reason for the bad vibes. I looked into Jones’ eyes as I said it. Once again they gave me an eerie feeling. I pulled away from the gaze and tried to look at Gwen, but she subtly turned away.

Jones looked back at me like he was sizing up his competition. “You are Noah Warner’s brother, correct? I’m sorry, when I was at the house the other day, I didn’t put two and two together.”

“Some would say he’s my brother.”

“It’s too bad,” Jones said, shaking his head while eying the ground.

I predicted his condolences about the accident, and mentally prepared my reply.

He stared at me so hard it actually gave me a chill, then said, “It sickens me that your brother murdered that innocent girl.”

The comment hit me like burning shrapnel. “That’s a family matter.”

“It’s the community’s business when someone chooses to drink and drive. It’s no different than if a sex offender moved into the community.”

I strained as hard as I could to convince myself to take the high road. I really did. But Gwen’s
boyfriend
calling my brother a
murderer
was just too much to take.

“Everybody makes mistakes. For example, your parents had you.”

Jones flushed, his beady eyes narrowing to angry slits. The subject seemed personal.

Gwen stepped in between us—the frightened child in her arms—trying to play peacemaker. “Doesn’t your shift start in a few minutes, Kyle?”

“Duty calls,” he said, forcing something resembling a smile. He gave Gwen a peck on the lips, which made me cringe. He then exchanged another high-five with the boy. “I’ll see you later, Tommy.”

“Bye, Kyle,” Tommy replied, waving at Officer Jones as he walked away. The boy then shifted gears—now pleading with Gwen to purchase a candy apple. Gwen agreed in motherly fashion, but warned him to return immediately after the purchase. Dollar bills seemed to magically appear in her hand. The boy gleefully grabbed them and ran to the concession stand.

Awkward silence filled the air, as if someone had hit the mute button. Finally I broke the silence, “Kyle seems like a really great guy.” I didn’t even attempt to sell the statement as sincere.

“I’m sorry for the comments about your brother. In his job, he’s seen some bad tragedies from drinking and driving, and he’s become quite close with the Spargo family. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

I nodded, although I believed Officer Jones had meant every word of it, and most likely had held back due to Gwen’s presence.

My attention went to Tommy, taking special notice of the striking resemblance between Gwen and the boy. It was just starting to sink in that Gwen had a son. Just one of the many dynamics that I didn’t factor in during my daydreams about recapturing the past.

“I didn’t know you had a child,” I said. I wasn’t sure why this surprised me—Gwen was in her late thirties and had been married for years. It was logical.

“Not sure why you
would
know. Actually, I have three children, JP,” she said.
I remained quiet. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured this moment.

“What’s wrong? No wisecrack about how surprised you are such an old guy like Stephen could
rise
to the occasion so many times. Then flash that annoying smug smile of yours and quip ‘no pun intended.’”

She couldn’t jar me out of my serious mode. “How are the kids handling the divorce?” I remembered when Gwen’s parents divorced and how traumatic that was for her.

Gwen couldn’t hold back a smile, which confused me. “I’m just messing with you, JP.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Stephen and I never had children. Tommy’s not my son—he’s my brother.”

I tried to do the genealogy arithmetic in my head, but I was never very good at math.

Gwen seemed to be reveling in my perplexed look. “My father re-married—a woman much younger than him. They had Tommy, she bailed, and then my father had a heart attack.”

My confusion quickly switched to concern. I’d always had a close relationship with Mr. Delaney. “Is he...”

“He pulled through, and has improved a lot this past year, but he needs a lot of help with Tommy. I temporarily moved back to Rockfield when Stephen and I split up, but temporary is a lot longer than it used to be.”

I was relieved that Mr. Delaney survived. But the stronger pangs of relief were because Gwen hadn’t started our family without me. I needed a whole team of therapists.

“So how’s your mother doing?” I asked.

“She’s good. Lives out in Tucson. Has a male companion, which I guess is a way to say boyfriend when you are over sixty. And yes, JP, you are still her favorite, which she subtly reminds me every time she sends me the latest newspaper clipping about your adventures.”

I was just about to smile, until Gwen added, “I guess mother doesn’t always know best.”

The return of Tommy was welcomed. If nothing else, he could fill in the awkward pauses. He pointed his candy apple toward the bustling carnival area, and exclaimed, “Can we go on the Ferris wheel, Gwen?”

I could tell that Gwen saw it as an excuse to get out while she was ahead, or at least not losing. “Of course, Tommy.”

Tommy flashed a satisfied look, took a big bite of his candy apple, and pointed at me. “Can the guy with the stick come?”

Gwen looked up at me, then at her younger brother.

She looked conflicted.

So I spoke for her, “I’d love to, Tommy.”

Chapter 29

The Saturday prior to Labor Day, two years to the day, was a day permanently scarred into the memory bank of Noah Warner.

It was the night part of him died. The biggest part. He had made remarkable progress over the past year, to the point where he was able to tell the story of that night to a local reporter. She promised him that she wouldn’t release it until he was ready. He was close, but not there yet.

Noah left the fair in his Jeep—a Warner family hand-me-down that every member has taken ownership of at one time or another over the last twenty years. It was a lot different from the flashy convertible Mustang he drove up until the accident. He was glad to see JP, and hoped to spend time with him while he was in town. But this was not a day that Noah could be happy.

He soon arrived at his destination—The Rockfield Cemetery. He parked the Jeep and swallowed hard. Indescribable feelings surfaced. He grabbed the single red rose off the passenger side seat and slipped his denim jacket on over his black T-shirt. As the sun sunk behind the trees, the crisp feel of fall was in the air. The same as it was two years ago.

He walked the path to Lisa’s resting spot. He wore out the grass the first year. The second year had mostly been special occasions and anniversaries. Lisa would understand. She was the only person ever to truly understand him.

He stood before her headstone and read it again, still trying to connect it to reality.
Lisa Spargo—a beautiful shooting star that brightened the
world
. Noah knelt down and placed the rose in front of the grave. He forced the words, “Hey Leese, sorry it’s been a while. I missed you.” He tried to keep it together, but he never could. He didn’t even acknowledge the tears, or attempt to wipe them away.

He’d met Lisa the first day of seventh grade. The Spargos had moved to Rockfield from Boston. Lisa was the sassy, big city schoolgirl who seemed light years older than the rest of the students. Noah was the small town rebel who would go to any length to impress her. The connection was instant.

It seemed like just yesterday they were roaming the halls of Rockfield High. Lisa in her tight jeans, her curls bouncing with each confident strut—Noah in his denim jacket, the one he wore if it were ninety degrees or fifty below zero. Rebellious youth who looked like they popped out of a James Dean flick, riding around in Noah’s Mustang as if they owned the world.

It wasn’t always fun and games, but they loved each other so hard it hurt, and that was all that mattered. Their toughest stretch was the years after graduation. Lisa went off to college in Boston, while Noah didn’t have much interest in school, and remained in Rockfield. When he wasn’t getting into trouble, he worked as a bartender at Main Street Tavern. Her parents never approved of Noah, and encouraged her to cut her ties with him. But it would take more than distance and disapproving parents to keep them apart. All leading up to the moment that Noah asked her to marry him, two years ago to the day.

Day turned to dusk, and then to night. Noah continued to sit on the wet grass in front of Lisa’s marble headstone and talk to her. He wanted to hold her in his arms again so bad that he would make any deal with the devil just for a few precious seconds.

He gave updates on her parents and siblings—the ones who blamed him for her death, but he still loved them, for no other reason than Lisa loved them.

He tried to keep the topics to happy memories and the positive strides in his life. He told her about JP returning safely. Then he reminisced about the time he tried to use his famous brother to impress her when they first met. Lisa wasn’t much into the news, and had no idea who JP was, but she became a fan when she met him during one of his rare visits. Lisa knew that Noah looked up to JP, and that was good enough for her.

He held the most important surprise for last—his return to school. He didn’t want to tell her during earlier visits, for fear he would get her hopes up if he wasn’t able to stick it out. He could almost feel her pride when he told her.

The part she’d be most impressed with was that he was going back because he wanted to—not for her. It would take him years, but without her, it seemed like he had too much time on his hands anyway.

Noah eventually drained all of his emotions. He again apologized for his recent absence, vowing to make a quicker return next time. He could almost hear her playfully say, as she often had, “You better, Warner, if you know what’s good for you!” Accompanied by that infectious smile that made him melt.

Noah’s pilgrimage wasn’t over. It was important for him to go to “the spot.” He put the top up on the Jeep and was on his way—to make a return trip to hell.

Noah took Zycko because he needed to follow the same path they took on that night. Last year it was a route to the end—a dead end—as he’d planned to join her. This year he just wanted to pay tribute to his eternal soul mate and try to make some sense of the whole thing.

Zycko Hill was dark and menacing, just as it had been that night. Noah replayed it, second by second, as if he were viewing each moment in slow motion. He passed the entrance to the nature preserve, known as The Natty. It was a protected area beside the Samerauk River, best known for being the hangout for Rockfield’s youth. It was also the place where he’d asked Lisa to marry him.

He twisted the Jeep around another curve, passing the blinding bright lights of a pickup truck coming in the other direction. Noah remained in a hazy state, re-living the accident.

Just before they crossed the small one-lane bridge, the giddy newly engaged couple looked at each other and Lisa mouthed, “I love you.” They both smiled.

Then out of nowhere, the light rain turned into a downpour. The wipers struggled to clear the windshield. Lisa urged him to slow down.

Noah listened, but the rain intensified. Just after crossing the bridge, the car began to hydroplane. Noah slammed the brakes, but it only made it worse. No matter what he did he couldn’t stop the car from sliding. Noah cursed and Lisa screamed.

With a massive jolt, the Mustang slammed into a large oak tree. The passenger-side door took the worst of the collision, and of more importance to Noah—Lisa. She couldn’t get out, as the door was jammed against the tree, branches shooting through the shattered window.