The Lucky One (33 page)

“I’ll meet you inside,” Thibault said, trying to sound offhand. “You don’t have to wait in the rain for an old man like me.”

Thankfully, Ben laughed and ducked into the tree house. Thibault breathed a sigh of relief as he made the shaky rise to the platform. He took a large, quick step to avoid the platform and stumbled into the tree house.

“This is where I keep my Pokémon cards,” Ben said, ignoring his entrance and motioning to the tin boxes in the corner. “I’ve got a Charizard card. And a Mewtwo.”

Thibault wiped the rain from his face as he collected himself and sat on the floor. “That’s great,” he said, puddles from his rain gear collecting around him.

He took in the tiny room. Toys lay heaped in the corners, and a cutout window exposed much of the interior to the elements, soaking the unsanded planks. The only piece of furniture was a single beanbag chair in the corner.

“This is my hideout,” Ben said, collapsing into the chair.

“Yeah?”

“I come here when I get mad. Like when kids at school are mean.”

Thibault leaned back against the wall, shaking the water from his sleeves. “What do they do?”

“Stuff. You know.” He shrugged. “Teasing me about how I play basketball or kick ball or why I have to wear glasses.”

“That must be hard.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Ben didn’t seem to notice his obvious contradiction, and Thibault went on. “What do you like most about being here?”

“The quiet,” said Ben. “When I’m here, no one asks me questions or asks me to do stuff. I can sit here and think.”

Thibault nodded. “Makes sense.” Through the window, he could see the rising wind beginning to drive the rain sideways. The storm was getting worse.

“What do you think about?” he asked.

Ben shrugged. “Like growing up and stuff. Getting older.” He paused. “I wish I was bigger.”

“Why?”

“There’s this kid in my class who always picks on me. He’s mean. Yesterday, he pushed me down in the cafeteria.”

The tree house rocked in a gust of wind. Again, the photo seemed to burn, and Thibault absently found his hand wandering to his pocket. He didn’t understand the compulsion, but before he realized what he was doing, he pulled out the photo.

Outside, the wind continued to howl and he could hear branches slapping against the structure. With every passing minute, he knew, the rain was engorging the creek. All at once, an image arose of the tree house platform collapsing, with Ben trapped in the raging water beneath it.

“I want to give you something,” Thibault said, the words out before he’d even consciously thought them. “I think it’ll take care of your problem.”

“What is it?”

Thibault swallowed. “It’s a picture of your mom.”

Ben took the photo and looked at it, his expression curious. “What do I do with it?”

Thibault leaned forward and tapped the corner of the photo. “Just carry it with you. My friend Victor called it a lucky charm. He said it’s what kept me safe in Iraq.”

“For real?”

That was the question, wasn’t it?
After a long moment, Thibault nodded. “I promise.”

“Cool.”

“Will you do me a favor?” Thibault asked.

“What?”

“Will you keep this between the two of us? And promise to keep it with you?”

Ben considered it. “Can I fold it?”

“I don’t think it matters.”

Ben thought about it. “Sure,” he finally said, folding it over and slipping it into his pocket. “Thanks.”

It was the first time in over five years that the photo had ever been farther from him than the distance to the shower or the sink, and the sense of loss disoriented him. Somehow, Thibault hadn’t expected to feel its absence so acutely. As he watched Ben cross the bridge and he caught sight of the raging creek, the feeling only intensified. When Ben waved to him from the other side of the creek and began to descend the tree ladder, Thibault reluctantly stepped onto the platform, before moving onto the bridge as fast as he could.

He felt exposed as he crossed the bridge step by step, ignoring the certainty that the bridge would plunge into the creek, ignoring the fact that he no longer carried the photo. When he reached the oak tree on the other side, he breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Still, as he climbed down, he felt a nagging premonition that whatever he had come here for still wasn’t over—and was, in fact, only beginning.

26

Beth

O
n Wednesday, Beth stared out her classroom window at lunchtime. She had never seen anything like it—hurricanes and nor’easters had nothing on the series of storms that had recently pounded Hampton County as well as every county from Raleigh to the coast. The problem was that unlike most tropical storms, these weren’t passing quickly out to sea. Instead, they had lingered day after thunderous day, bringing nearly every river in the eastern part of the state to flood levels. Small towns along the Pamlico, Neuse, and Cape Fear rivers were already knee-deep in water, and Hampton was getting close. Another day or two of rain would mean that most of the businesses downtown would be reachable only by canoe.

The county had already decided to close the schools for the rest of the week, since the school buses could no longer make their routes and only a little more than half the teachers had been able to make it in. Ben, of course, was thrilled by the idea of staying home and playing in the puddles with Zeus, but Beth was a little more leery. Both the newspapers and the local news had reported that while the South River had already risen to dangerous levels, it was going to get far worse before it got better as the creeks and tributaries fed the rise. The two creeks that surrounded the kennel, usually a quarter mile away, could now be seen from the windows of the house, and Logan was even keeping Zeus away because of the debris washed out with the deluge.

Being trapped indoors was hard on the kids, which was one of the reasons she’d stayed in her classroom. After lunch, they’d return to their classrooms, where in theory they’d happily color or draw or read quietly in lieu of playing kick ball or basketball or tag outside. In reality, kids needed to get their energy out, and she knew it. For years, she’d been asking that on days like this, they simply fold up the cafeteria lunch tables and allow the kids to run or play for twenty minutes, so they could concentrate when they returned to class after lunch. Not a chance, she was told, because of regulatory issues, liability issues, janitorial union issues, and health and safety issues. When asked what that meant, she was given a long explanation, but to her, it all came down to French fries. As in,
We shouldn’t allow kids to slip on French fries
, or,
If they do slip on French fries, the school district will get sued
, or,
The janitors would have to renegotiate their contract if they didn’t clean the French fries from the cafeteria at the time they were scheduled to do so
, and finally,
If someone slipped on a French fry that had fallen on the floor, the children might be exposed to harmful pathogens.

Welcome to the world of lawyers, she thought. Lawyers, after all, didn’t have to teach the kids after keeping them cooped up inside the classroom all day with no recess.

Usually, she would have retreated to the teacher’s lounge for lunch, but with so little time to set up the classroom for activities, she’d decided to stay and get things ready. In the corner, she was setting up a beanbag-tossing game—stored in the closet for just such emergencies—when she noted movement from the doorway. She turned that way, and it took her an instant to register who it was. The shoulders of his uniform were wet, and a few water droplets dripped from the belt where he stored his gun. In his hand was a manila file.

“Hi, Beth,” he said. His voice was quiet. “Do you have a minute?”

She stood. “What is it, Keith?”

“I came to apologize,” he said. He clasped his hands in front of him, the picture of contrition. “I know you don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to talk to you when you were alone. I took a chance that you’d be here, but if it’s not a good time, maybe we could set up another time that’s better for you.”

She glanced at the clock. “I’ve got five minutes,” she said.

Keith stepped into the classroom and started to close the door. Midway, he paused, seeking her permission. She nodded, wanting to get whatever he had to say over with. He moved toward her, stopping at a respectful distance.

“Like I said, I came here to tell you I was sorry.”

“About what?”

“About the rumors you heard,” he said. “I wasn’t completely truthful with you.”

She crossed her arms. “In other words, you lied,” she stated.

“Yes.”

“You lied to my face.”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“You asked if I ever ran off some of the guys you’ve dated in the past. I don’t think I did, but I didn’t tell you that I did talk to some of them.”

“You
talked
to them.”

“Yes.”

She did her best to keep her anger in check. “And . . . what? You’re sorry you did it, or sorry you lied?”

“Both. I’m sorry I did it, I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have done those things.” He paused. “I know we haven’t had the greatest relationship since the divorce, and I also know that you think marrying me was a mistake. You’re right about that. We weren’t meant to be married, and I accept that. But between the two of us—and I’ll be honest, you’ve had a lot more to do with this than me—we have a great son. You might not think I’m the best father in the world, but I’ve never once regretted having Ben, or having Ben live with you most of the time. He’s a great kid, and you’ve done a great job with him.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. In the silence, he went on.

“But I still worry, and I always have. Like I told you, I worry about who comes into Ben’s life, whether it be friends, or acquaintances, or even people that you might introduce to him. I know that’s not fair and that you probably consider it an intrusion into your personal life, but that’s the way I am. And to be honest, I don’t know if I’m ever going to change.”

“So you’re saying that you’ll keep following me forever?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I won’t do it again. I was just explaining why I did it before. And trust me—I didn’t threaten those guys or try to intimidate them. I
talked
to them. I explained that Ben meant a lot to me and that being his father was the most important thing in my life. You may not always agree with the way I parent him, but if you think back a couple of years, it wasn’t always like this. He used to enjoy coming over to my place. Now he doesn’t. But I haven’t changed. He’s changed. Not in a bad way—growing up is normal, and that’s all he’s been doing. And maybe I need to realize and accept the fact that he’s getting older.”

She said nothing. As Keith watched her, he drew a long breath. “I also told those men that I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know that might sound like I was being possessive, but I wasn’t. I said it like a brother would have said it. Like Drake would have said it. As in, if you like her, if you respect her, just make sure you treat her that way. That’s all I said to them.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe some of them took it the wrong way because I’m a deputy or because of my last name, but I can’t help those things. Believe me, the last thing I want is for you to be unhappy. It might not have worked out between us, but you’re the mother of my son and you always will be.”

Keith’s gaze fell as he shuffled his feet. “You have every reason to be angry with me. I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were.” Beth remained where she stood, arms crossed.

“Like I said, I’m sorry and it’s never going to happen again.”

She didn’t respond right away. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

He flashed a quick, almost defeated smile. “Fair enough.”

“Is that it?” She bent to retrieve three beanbags from the closet floor.

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about Logan Thibault. There’s something you should know about him.”

She held up her hands to stop him. “Don’t even go there.”

He wasn’t dissuaded. Instead, he took a step forward, kneading the brim of his hat. “I’m not going to talk to him unless you want me to talk to him. I want to make that clear. Believe me, Beth. This is serious. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I’m here because I care about you.”

His chutzpah nearly took her breath away. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you have my best interests at heart after admitting that you’ve been spying on me for years? And that you were responsible for ruining any chance I had of finding a relationship?”

“This has nothing to do with those things.”

“Let me guess . . . you think he’s using drugs, right?”

“I have no idea. But I should warn you that he hasn’t been honest with you.”

“You have no idea whether he’s been honest with me. Now get out. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to hear what you have to say—”

“Then ask him yourself,” Clayton interrupted. “Ask him whether he came to Hampton to find you.”

“I’m done,” she declared, moving toward the door. “And if you so much as touch me on the way out, I’m going to scream for help.”

She walked past him, and as she was about to cross the threshold, Keith sighed audibly.

“Ask him about the photograph,” he said.

His comment brought her to a halt. “What?”

Keith’s expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it. “The photograph he got from Drake.”

27

Clayton

C
layton knew by her expression that he had her attention but wasn’t sure she understood the implications.

“He has a photograph of you,” he went on, “and when he first got to town, he flashed it around Decker’s Pool Hall. Tony was there that night and he saw it. Actually, he called me right away because he thought the guy’s story sounded weird, but I didn’t think much of it. Last weekend, though, Tony came by to tell me that he recognized Thibault when he was playing the piano at church.”

Beth could only stare at him.

“I don’t know if Drake gave it to him, or if he took it from Drake. But I figure that’s the only thing that makes sense. Both Drake and Thibault were in the marines, and according to Tony, the picture was an older one, taken a few years ago.”