Trust in Me (35 page)

Chapter 21

JOE Murphy’s office at Social Services overlooked the playground area of the town hall. The swings, teeter-totter and jungle gym were adjacent to an outdoor basketball court whose nets had recently been set up. Spring was definitely here!

As he stared out the window, Tucker tried his damnedest to enjoy the new season, tried to bask in the warm weather, which made today a just-jeans-and-T-shirt day, but it was hard when he was waiting for Beth and Ron to arrive. Digging his hands into the tan sport coat he’d donned to appear a bit more dressed up, he sighed. “Where the hell is everybody, do you think?”

Doc sprawled on a chair like a lizard in the sun. “Keep your britches on, boy. We’re early.”

Tucker studied Doc. He looked good for a guy who’d been rushed to emergency three weeks before and had angioplasty the next day. He’d dressed up again today in neat tan pants and another pressed shirt; Tucker sniffed. “Got that sissy cologne on again, old man? Where you fixin’ to go after this meeting?”

Raising his chin, Doc locked a steely gaze on him. “Just ’cuz you got a sorry social life don’t mean you gotta pick on mine.”

Tucker could feel the sadness creep up into his throat. Apparently it was visible on his face.

“Aw, shit,” Doc said. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“Don’t know what you’re blabberin’ about.” Tucker crossed the room to study the books that lined one whole wall of the office. “Think Murphy’s read all these?”

“Tuck?” Damn, the old man wasn’t gonna let it go. “What?” He tried to sound ornery and didn’t turn around. “I, um, reckon that was outta line. ’Bout your social life.”

Tucker pivoted and ducked his head. “No, Doc, it’s how I’m feelin’ these days that’s outta line.”

Doc started to say something when Murphy came through the doorway. “Sorry, I got held up.” He scanned the room and arched his brows. “Beth and Ronny aren’t here yet?”

“Nope. We’re early.” Doc smiled easily at the counselor.

Joe took a seat at the big oak desk. It was neatly organized, unlike Doc’s office, where you could conduct a regular scavenger hunt. Tucker studied Murphy. His face was drawn and bore the lines of sleeplessness. Buttoned up real tight in a khaki jacket over a blue shirt and striped tie, Joe was keeping some kind of demons at bay with his organization and neat-as-a-pin dress. There was never any word around town about the reason for the breakup of the Murphys’ marriage. Tucker remembered vividly the way the man had looked at his ex-wife that night at Crocodile’s.

Don’t think about Crocodiles.

Or Beth.

And how she looked

And felt.

His hands clenched.

Like a summoned genie, she appeared at the doorway.

Shit
. She’d dressed up for today. His hands itched to touch that pretty pink blouse she wore with a short black skirt, dark stockings and heels that made her legs look Rockette-long. She’d folded a gray blazer over her arm and had swung the handle of her purse over her shoulder.

She also didn’t spare him so much as a glance.

“I hope we’re not late.” She spoke to everyone in general. “It was so nice outside, Ronny and I decided to walk over.”

“You’re not late.” Murphy nodded to a table adjacent to the door. “Let’s all sit there.”

Tucker waited while Beth chose a seat, Joe sat next to her and Ron took the other side, flanking her like bodyguards. Doc took an end chair and Tucker settled in as far away from Beth as he could get. Still, he watched her. She wore a little rum-colored lipstick and for the thousandth time he wondered what she’d taste like.

He’d never even kissed her!

Joe smiled warmly at everybody. “The purpose of this meeting is to review Ron’s community service. I’ve already met with the Lancaster County Correctional Facility, and I’ll be meeting with the school. We’ll have our three-month accounting of Ron’s progress right before Memorial Day. I’ll give my findings to the Council, and if we’re on target, we’ll go ahead as planned.” Joe zeroed in on Ron. “Let’s start with you, Ron. How has the community service been going?”

Ron squirmed in his chair, a little boy in the hot seat. He glanced at his mother, who gave him an encouraging nod, and at Doc, who smiled at him. Last, he looked at Tucker. Though the boy was far from accepting him, he’d lost the rage and accusing glares that used to be there in his face. Not giving him anything else to be upset about was important. Tucker nodded at him to talk.

“’Cept for the, um, the time I went out to the garage, you know, when Doc had...when I hit...except for that, it’s been okay.”

“Let’s leave that incident alone for a minute.” Joe’s expression was stem. “The service has been just okay?”

Clearing his throat, Ron’s eyes lightened a bit. “Better than okay. I been working on the car.”

His mother frowned.

“But I did all the shi—the dirty work, too. Cleaning out, cleaning up. Lifting heavy stuff. Right, Doc?”

“Far as I’m concerned, he done his share.” Doc glanced at Tucker. “You?”

“Yeah, sure, the kid’s worked his behind off most of the time. Just because he likes it don’t mean it’s not hard work.” Ron smiled and Tucker returned it.

“What’s the status of the car?” Joe wanted to know.

“It’ll be ready to go to the track garage in a week.” Doc gave the information. “We need the experts from here on out.”

Joe scowled. “Will there be work to do, then, for Ronny? He’s got till September for this service.”

Tucker and Doc exchanged grins. Doc angled his head to Joe. “Talkin’ like a real Yank, ain’t he?”

At Joe’s questioning look Tucker explained Doc’s comment. “You can tell you never been in a garage. Ronny’s gonna do all the grunt jobs there. We’re also thinkin’ about puttin’ him in the pit for the test drives and the race itself.”

“I’m gonna be in the
pit
?” Ronny’s voice held the awe of a fan meeting Richard Petty.

“You got it, boy.”

Tucker’s gaze skittered to Beth. She’d gone pale.

Her eyes finally met his. He gave her a sympathetic look and tried to curb the need that revved up inside him like an engine she had no problem starting with just a glance.

“Beth?” Joe asked. “You okay with that?”

“It’s no secret I don’t want Ronny involved in racing.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“Normal reaction, son,” Doc said. “After what happened to your daddy.”

After what I did to your daddy.
Geez, just when Tucker started to forget it, it was right there, staring him in the ever-lovin’ face.

Beth said, “Accidents happen in racing all the time.” She gave Tucker a pointed look. “It’s no one’s fault. But it’s why I don’t want him racing.” She threaded her hair off her face. “None of this is really the issue, though, is it? All we need is to make sure Ronny’s community service gets done. I’ll deal with this racing thing later.” Her voice cracked and Tucker wanted to wrap her up in his arms so bad he hurt.

Joe scanned the group. “All right. For my report, I’ll just say I’m satisfied with the community service projections and his behavior up till now.” Joe focused in on Ron like a strict parent. “However, the attack on Tucker has to be dealt with.”

“What happened ’bout school?” Doc asked Joe.

“Nothing. Mr. Johnson never reported his skipping class. I don’t approve of letting bad behavior go like that, but the teacher was adamant. As for what happened with you, Tucker...”

Straightening, Tucker blocked out the vision of Beth sitting there about as pretty as a Carolina sunset. “Look,” he said summoning The Menace. “We all know what the kid was thinkin’ and who got him into thinkin’ that way. I’m not blaming his actions on those kids, but there was a misunderstanding, is all.” He faced down Joe. “I been cooperative about everything your Council’s asked me to do, even if I didn’t want to. Now I’m makin’ a demand of my own. Drop this, Joe. It wasn’t the kid’s fault this time.”

Ronny’s mouth had gone slack. He stared at Tucker like a thief who’d gotten pardoned by the person he stole from.

Joe leaned back in his chair and stared at Tucker, too. He rolled his pencil between his palms. “All right, but on one condition. Ronny takes the anger-control class I’m teaching over at the high school.”

“When will he have time for that?” Beth asked.

“It doesn’t start until after Memorial Day. It’s every Saturday morning in June.”

Beth looked to Ron. Ron shrugged. Tucker could see he knew he’d gotten off light.

“Then it’s done.” Joe focused hard on the boy. “Other than that incident, Ron, I’m proud of your performance with community service and weekend jail. And I think you’re learning a great deal in counseling.” He squeezed Ron’s arm. “All that will be in my report.”

Ron’s look was grateful. “Thanks, Joe. You helped a lot.”

Joe nodded. Everybody rose. Doc turned to the Donovans. “You guys walkin’ back to the diner?”

“Yes we are.” Beth’s voice was breathless with relief.

“Mind if I go with you? I wanna talk to Ronny about that computer program I been workin’ on before I pick up Gerty.”

Shoulders relaxed, Ron said, “Great.” He shook hands with Joe. “Thanks again.”

“It’s not over yet. But you’re gonna make it, I think.”

Beth had circled around the opposite side of the table from Tucker. She gave Murphy a big hug. “Thanks, Joe. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

He patted her back and whispered something in her ear that made her smile.

Finally she looked at Tucker. “You, too, Tucker. Thanks.”

He said only, “You’re welcome.”

Beth and Doc headed for the door. Doc called over his shoulder, “I got a ride with Gerty, Tuck, so don’t worry ’bout me.”

Tucker nodded absently, watching Ron. The boy watched back for a minute, then came up to him. Ron swallowed hard. He averted his eyes, looked back at Tucker. Then he held out his hand. “Thanks, Tucker. For everything.”

Battling back emotion—thank God he’d had so much practice—Tucker shook his hand. “You’re welcome, Ron.”

o0o

JOE studied Tucker as the others filed out of the office. He was a hurting guy, if Joe ever saw one. And part of what was eating away at him was something Joe was all too familiar with. When everybody else was gone, he said, “Your feelings are on your sleeve, Quaid.”

Tucker watched him for a minute, then apparently decided to be honest. “I’m tryin’ to be clear-headed here, but it isn’t easy.”

“I know.” He glanced out the window. “Reason can only go so far.”

Tucker’s eyes narrowed. “You look whipped.”

“Bad night last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joe glanced at his watch. “I got Little League practice at six.” That was two hours away. He stared at the gym bag he’d brought to the office. “I gotta work some of this off before I go crazy.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Shoot some hoops.” He nodded out the window. “If that isn’t enough, I’ll run.”

Tucker eyed the basketball court. “Mmm. Shot some hoops in my day, with my step-brother.”

“Yeah?” Joe liked the idea. “Wanna play some one-on-one?”

Shrugging like a tot finally asked to play with the big guys, Tucker nodded eagerly. “Got my sneaks in the car.”

“Get ’em while I change and meet me outside on the court.”

“You’re on, Yank.”

Ten minutes later, they briefly outlined the rules—playing on half the court, Tucker would take the ball to the top of the court and go in for a basket. If he scored, Joe would take it out of bounds and go for a shot. If Tucker missed, the ball was up for grabs. They’d play to twenty-one.

Tucker dribbled in slowly and Joe was all over him. In seconds, Joe stole the ball away and made a two-pointer.

Glowering at him, Tucker took it to the top of the key, and this time, he was ready. He dodged to the right. Joe tried to block and Tucker practically mowed him down. With a grunt, Joe jumped out of the way. Tucker missed. Joe went for the rebound and elbowed Tucker in the ribs to grab it.

Tucker cursed, muscled in front of him and got the rebound. He scored. Joe took it out and faked to the left, circled right, and went for a shot—that Tucker blocked. His hand came down hard on Joe’s chest.

“Sorry,” he said, not meaning it.

Joe grabbed the ball saying, “Like hell,” and scored.

It got worse from there.

Dimly, Joe was aware of the demons he was fighting, pushing him to be physical and aggressive. But mostly it felt good to play hard, loose and rough. Tucker matched him move for move, body slam for body slam, and grunt for grunt. He didn’t seem to mind the force, either.

In thirty minutes, they were tied at twenty-one.

Sucking in air like a rookie runner, Joe hugged the ball to his stomach; Tucker bent over his knees gasping for breath. His black T-shirt was soaked through. His right cheek looked bruised. Feeling his own ribs, Joe hoped he hadn’t cracked one on that last collision. “You think we’ll live through a tie breaker?”

“No way. My side’s killin’ me.”

“From running?”

“No, hotshot, from where you rammed into me.”

Joe chuckled. Tucker smiled. They were suddenly two little boys on the playground. It felt good.

Finally managing to stand upright, Tucker said, “I reckon I needed it.” He eyed Joe. “You look better.”

“You, too.”

“Got some water in there.” Joe indicated the duffel bag that he’d brought out. “Want some?”

Tucker nodded.

Gingerly shuffling to the side of the court, Joe fished out two bottles of Poland Spring. Still breathing hard, he headed back to Tucker, who’d taken a seat on the surface of a picnic table. Ten feet away, Joe tossed him a bottle. He joined Tucker on the table, feet braced on the bench seat.

Joe took a long swig and Tucker an even bigger gulp. “You’re a hell of an athlete,” Joe said.

Tucker nodded. “Race car drivers have to be in top shape.” He grinned.

“What?”

“I was just thinkin’ of the story Richard Petty always told.”

“What was it about?”

“One time a guy was raggin’ on him about race car drivers not bein’ real athletes. Petty patiently explained the stamina and endurance necessary to drive a car at two hundred miles an hour. When the guy still didn’t buy it, Petty told him to put on a woolen sweat suit, shoes, gloves and a helmet, then get in his family car at noon one day in the middle of July. He should roll up all the windows except for the left front, turn the heater wide-open, and crank the radio as loud as it’d go. He said to drive around in rush-hour traffic for four hours, without stopping except for twenty seconds every half hour for gas and tires. And try not to hit anybody or get hit while he was at it.”