“Kjaere” (Nick/Greg, 9/12)
Jul. 31st, 2009 01:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregI know, I bet most of you thought there was never going to be any more of this...but four weeks away in France can work wonders.
Title – Kjaere
Author -![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
black_dahlia63
Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s
Spoilers - Fannysmackin’
Rating – PG
Warning – Serious angst, but hey…people kind of expect that from me by now, right?
Disclaimer – not mine, don’t sue.
AN: Huge thank you’s go to everyone who has encouraged me over the past year...especially Nina and Lin.
Previous instalments here.
June 10th, 7.45 p.m
“What kind of story do you want?” Nick asked as he sat cross-legged next to his daughter’s bed. “One of mine, or one out of a book?”
“I want to tell you one,” Emily said, lying with the covers pulled up to her chin and a black cat that was one of her favourite Beanie Babies sitting on her pillow. “I made it up myself.”
“Did you?” Nick asked with a smile, and there was a solemn nod. “Well, I’d like to hear it.”
“You have to come up here if you want to listen,” Emily told him; she shifted to allow Nick to climb onto the bed and wedge himself between her and the wall, and once he’d draped his arm over her she began speaking.
“Once upon a time, there was a princess -”
“Was her name Emily?”
“Ssh! I’m tellin’ it,” was the authoritarian response. “Once upon a time, there was a princess called Emily, and she wanted a horse because all the other princesses had horses. So she went to a place where they had a lot of horses, and she looked at all of them, but she didn’t see the right one – and then right when she was going to leave and look in another place, she saw a brown horse lying down in a stable all on its own, so she went to have a look,” the four year old continued. “And when she petted the horse it had really soft fur and didn’t bite her or anything,” and Nick suppressed a smile as he recalled an encounter Emily had had with a new horse at the ranch some months since, “so she told the horse man she wanted to take it home,” and then Emily’s voice became gruff. “You don’t want this horse, the horse man said. He had a bad owner who hurt him a lot, and now he can’t walk, so nobody can ride him, and he can’t eat very well,” she went on. “So the horse man said to the princess, look at that big horse over there, isn’t he nice? You can have him for - um, um - twenty dollars, but the princess wanted the brown horse, so she told the horse man if he didn’t let her have it she was gonna tell the king to put him in jail.”
“Sounds like she was pretty stubborn.”
“Well, she wanted the brown horse a lot,” Emily went on, the sarcasm missing her completely, “so the horse man said she could have it for nothing, because he didn’t want to go to jail. And the princess had to get a big truck to put the horse in, ‘cause it couldn’t get up by itself, and she drove a long way in the truck until she got to a place called Dallas, Texas – and know who lived there?”
“Who?”
“Cowboy Bill, silly,” Emily said. “And the princess took the horse to him and asked if he could make it better, and he said -” and after a pause Emily continued, trying her best to use the same tone of voice Nick used in the stories he told her. “He said well, your majesty, he’s pretty sick, and it might take me a long time, but the princess said that was okay. And the horse was sad, because it didn’t want to be at Cowboy Bill’s ranch without the princess, so the princess came to visit it every day even when she had to go to school too – then one day she went there to give the horse its breakfast, and know what?”
“What?”
“The horse was standing up and eating all by itself,” was the answer, followed by a yawn. “And it was all better, so Cowboy Bill said the princess could take it home – so she rode it all the way back to the castle, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end,” and Emily twisted round to face Nick. “Was that a good story?”
“It was a really good story,” Nick said, managing to smile as he spoke despite the lump in his throat. “And you know what? I know Greg would like to hear it too, so I think we should go out tomorrow and buy a notebook so we can write it down before we go to see him again,” and he saw Emily’s face light up.
“Can we? Can I draw pictures too?”
“As many as you want,” Nick told her. “Right, missy, time for you to go to sleep,” and he climbed off the bed before bending down to kiss Emily’s forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“Goodnight,” Emily replied, her eyes already half-closed. “Can you leave the door open a little bit?”
“You got it,” Nick said. “Sleep well.” He crossed the room, pausing in the doorway to blow his daughter a kiss, before backing carefully out into the hallway and pulling the door almost all the way closed.
*********
Salem, Massachusetts – 8.15 p.m
He closed the door behind him, stepping into dimly-lit coolness that was miles removed from the heat outside, and he was conscious of his shoes squeaking against the floor as he made his way further into the building.
“The prodigal son returns,” a voice said several feet away; the words were followed by a chuckle as the speaker stepped out of the shadows, and moments later Luke was the recipient of a firm handshake. “Didn’t know you were in town again.”
“Nobody does,” Luke said. “I thought you might be able to use this,” and he reached into his pocket. “I read the update on the website, and I saw you were raising funds for the outreach programmes,” he went on, handing the envelope over. “I figured you could – I don’t know, raffle it off or something. I was just going to mail it, but I was here for the weekend, so…”
“Meet the stars of a hit TV series,” the other man read aloud, once he’d unfolded the sheet of paper the envelope contained. “Return flight to Daytona International Airport for two people, accommodation at the Daytona Beach Hilton - and a day with Luke and the crew at Hog Heaven, base of the latest TV reality show Road Trip,” and he looked up at Luke. “This is very generous of you,” he said, and the words were followed by a smile. “I’m almost tempted to buy all the raffle tickets myself.”
“You know you never need an invitation,” Luke said. “Might be good if you did come out there, actually - they’d probably watch their language if you were around the shop, and so would I,” and he managed a smile of his own. “Well, I should get going,” he said. “You’ve probably been trying to leave here for hours.”
“Only two and a half,” was the answer as the two of them walked back towards the front of the building. “How long are you here for?”
“Couple of days,” Luke told him. “Or until someone screws up and I have to go back – I just needed to get away, you know?”
“I know,” the man replied. “Anything in particular you’re getting away from?”
“Life in general,” and although Luke tried to smile he supposed he hadn’t managed it too well, because his companion raised an enquiring eyebrow. “I’m fine,” he said. “Honestly, Alan, I’m just tired, it’s been a rough week.”
“Well, at least join me for coffee before I go home tonight,” Alan told him. “I know how it goes - you drop in for a weekend and then we don’t see you for months,” and he grinned broadly. “There’s a Starbucks at the end of the block, and we can even sit outside so you can smoke -what do you say?”
“Won’t Beth wonder where you are?”
“She’ll leave the light on and go to bed if I don’t make it back by eleven,” was the answer as Alan pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and locked the door. “We’ve been together fifteen years now – what’s that saying about accepting the things you can’t change? She knows I’m a night owl – come on, Mr. Celebrity, you’re buying,” and the two of them headed down the sidewalk past a sign reading First Church of Salem – Rev. Alan McKenzie, Minister.
**********
He hadn’t intended to tell Alan anything about what had really been going on, but then the family had walked past their table – hugely pregnant young woman, the man at her side carrying a blond-haired boy on his shoulders who was protesting that it wasn’t time for bed yet – and Luke had been unable to hold it all in any longer. He’d sanitized the story as best he could – because despite the fact that Alan wore jeans and a Chicago Cubs shirt beneath his robes during his services, allowed people to call him by his first name, the remnants of a Catholic upbringing were telling Luke that this was a priest for Chrissakes – but he’d still been unable to look his companion in the face by the time he’d finished telling it.
“You’ve got yourself in a bit of a situation,” the minister said, looking up over the rim of his second mug of coffee; Luke’s first mug, which had gone cold long since, sat on the table between them along with an ashtray containing a small mountain of cigarette butts – something that, in itself, was a mute testament to how much stress he was under. “You don’t need me to tell you that, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Luke replied. “I just started out wanting to help him, I honestly did. I mean, we hadn’t seen each other for more than twenty years, we hadn’t kept in touch - it’s not like we’re doing anything behind anyone’s back -”
“I believe you,” was the answer. “Despite the fact that you cuss more than a twenty year navy man on shore leave, you’re a good person,” and there was a warm smile on Alan’s face as he spoke. “I think having them to stay with you in Daytona might have been a mistake, though,” he went on, and Luke’s head came up sharply. “You meant well, I know,” the minister added quickly, “but I think it may have started trains of thought in your head that you didn’t need.”
“It was nice not to come home alone for once, that’s all,” Luke said, staring down at his hands again. “It’s not like I’m a family person, I’m not cut out for it, but -” and he paused, swallowing hard as he thought of how it had felt to sit at House of Blues and watch Emily dancing. “I don’t know why I’m all screwed up like this, Alan -”
“Can I give you a suggestion?” Alan asked, and Luke nodded without looking up. “Keep being his friend, because people in his situation need all the support they can get. Email him, call him every once in a while to see how he’s doing – but don’t see him again. Don’t go to Vegas, don’t have them come to Florida – because you haven’t crossed any boundaries yet, but you’re not far off.”
***********
June 13th, 10.40 a.m – Desert Palms
“So she rode it all the way back to the castle, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end,” Nick intoned as his daughter pointed to the last picture; it showed one of her usual spindly figures, this one with a yellow crown and a pink dress, standing next to a horse that looked more like a brown spider minus a few legs.
“Did you like my story, Greg?” Emily asked as she nestled against his side with his good arm draped round her shoulders. “I worked really hard.”
“Yeah,” Greg replied, the single word making Emily’s eyes light up, and he attempted to raise his right hand. “I -” He grimaced in frustration when the hand fell back after he’d managed to lift it an inch or so away from the bedcovers, and his eyes darted from Nick to the drawing and back again. “Nick -”
“Right here,” Nick said, from where he sat in a chair next to the bed. “What is it?” and he leaned towards Greg. “Looking at the picture?”
“Yeah,” Greg said again. “Em…”
“She drew it, that’s right,” Nick told him. “It’s Princess Emily with the king and her new horse. She was awake at six this morning drawing all these pictures on computer paper - she wouldn’t even wait till we could go and buy her a notebook,” and Nick smiled as he locked eyes with Greg. “She’s impatient, just like you.”
“No, I’m not!” Emily retorted in mock indignation. “I’m the patientest little girl in the whole world!” and she darted her tongue out, making Nick suppress a grin. “Know what, Greg? I’m going to Madison’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon.”
“Huh?”
“She’s my best friend ever,” Emily said patiently, because she’d become used to the fact that she often had to tell Greg the same thing she’d told him the day before. “She goes to my school, and she lives in a big house, and she has a housekeeper called Selena – and her mommy doesn’t go to work, but her daddy’s a – um – he’s a doctor for ladies, but it’s a funny word -”
“Gynaecologist,” Nick murmured, and when he saw the corners of Greg’s mouth twitch upwards his heart leapt.
He is coming back. I knew it.
“- and we’re all gonna sleep at Madison’s house after the party,” Emily was saying. “Her mommy and daddy have someone coming to do magic tricks, and a clown, and Madison’s having a High School Musical cake,” and she looked across the bed at Nick. “We have to go buy her present, Nick.”
“We will,” Nick told her. “Right after we -” and he broke off when he saw Greg looking at him quizzically. “What’s up, G?”
“Car.”
“Car?” Nick echoed, puzzled. “No, we came in my truck,” and he saw Greg shake his head. “What do you mean?”
“Car,” Greg said again, looking down at himself. “This,” and as light dawned in Nick’s head he had to swallow hard before he spoke.
“No, you weren’t in a car wreck,” he said gently, the way he’d answered this question several times of late, and he got up to sit on the edge of the bed so that he could place an arm round Greg and Emily – because none of these previous explanations had ever taken place when their daughter had been in the room. “It happened while you were working – someone hurt you.”
“Who?”
“Kids,” Nick replied, struggling to remain calm. “We caught them, man, it’s okay.”
“Two of them went to jail,” Emily interjected, her little face pinched with anxiety, and there was silence as Greg looked from Nick to their daughter and back again.
“J -” and Greg’s brows drew together as his mouth worked to form the word. “Jail?”
“That’s right,” Nick told him. “They’re not gonna hurt you.”
“When?”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Nick said, his heart in his throat, because he’d given this answer several times too – and each time he’d done it he’d known he was only buying time, because sooner or later Greg was going to be alert enough not to be fobbed off any longer. “You just take it easy.”
“When?” Greg repeated with a little more emphasis, staring directly at Nick, and the ensuing few seconds of silence seemed to stretch into hours before Nick found his voice.
“Eight months ago,” he said, and he watched Greg’s mouth drop open before closing again, the lips pressing together in a thin line; the two of them looked at each other without speaking for an age, and then Greg’s lower lip quivered as tears brimmed in his eyes before trickling down his cheeks.
“No,” Emily said, her voice wavering at this sign of distress. “No, make him stop crying,” and she screwed her face up in a valiant attempt to stem tears of her own. “Please, Nick -” and as Nick wrapped his arms tightly round them both, the brief bubble of happiness having burst, all he could think about was two words.
Encino, California.
************
“Right,” Nick said as he pulled the truck into a spot outside Toys R Us and killed the engine. “Let’s go pick something for Madison.”
“I don’t want to,” Emily said quietly. “I wanna go back and see Greg.”
“We can see him again tomorrow before you go to the party – there’s plenty of time.”
“I don’t want to go to the party, and you can’t make me.”
“That’s right, I can’t,” Nick said. “But Madison’s going to be sad if you don’t turn up, isn’t she?”
“I don’t care,” Emily said stubbornly, and she made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt. “I need to go and see Greg, because you made him cry.”
“Wait a second, what?” Nick asked, his temples pulsating with the beginnings of a headache. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did!” his daughter said. “You told him he’d been in the hospital for a long time! How come you told him that?”
“Because he asked me to,” Nick replied as he fought to keep a lid on his emotions. “I wasn’t going to lie to him, sweetie.”
“Why not?” Emily asked, her voice rising in pitch and volume; a second or two later, Nick’s cell phone rang, and the Dallas area code he saw when he snatched it from his pocket was the final straw.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake -”
“That’s a swear, Nick!”
“Shut up!” he shouted, his temper finally snapping as he crammed the phone back into his pocket without answering the call; he turned the key in the ignition as Emily began to cry, and he was dimly aware of a small voice sobbing I hate you! as he peeled out of the parking lot, blinded by tears.
***********
He brought the truck to a stop in its usual spot under the apartment building, and then he drew a deep breath before unfastening his seatbelt and turning round.
Emily had cried herself to sleep, and lay with her head tilted to one side and her thumb in her mouth. Nick sat looking at her for a long time, and then he pressed his sleeve against his eyes before he climbed down and walked back to the rear passenger door; he opened it almost silently, and as he was unfastening Emily’s seatbelt she stirred and blinked before fixing red-rimmed eyes on him.
“I yelled at you,” he told his daughter. “I used a bad word, and I shouldn’t have done that,” and he reached up towards Emily’s tangled red hair, only to have her shrink away from him. “Honey?” he said, a lump rising painfully in his throat as he saw the wary expression on the little girl’s face. “Can I give you a hug?” He held out his arms as Emily slid down from her seat - wanting more than anything to hold her and tell her he was sorry, that everything would be all right – but they fell to his sides again, heavy as lead, when she stepped carefully around him before walking towards the elevator without saying a word.
To be continued.
Title – Kjaere
Author -
black_dahlia63Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s
Spoilers - Fannysmackin’
Rating – PG
Warning – Serious angst, but hey…people kind of expect that from me by now, right?
Disclaimer – not mine, don’t sue.
AN: Huge thank you’s go to everyone who has encouraged me over the past year...especially Nina and Lin.
Previous instalments here.
June 10th, 7.45 p.m
“What kind of story do you want?” Nick asked as he sat cross-legged next to his daughter’s bed. “One of mine, or one out of a book?”
“I want to tell you one,” Emily said, lying with the covers pulled up to her chin and a black cat that was one of her favourite Beanie Babies sitting on her pillow. “I made it up myself.”
“Did you?” Nick asked with a smile, and there was a solemn nod. “Well, I’d like to hear it.”
“You have to come up here if you want to listen,” Emily told him; she shifted to allow Nick to climb onto the bed and wedge himself between her and the wall, and once he’d draped his arm over her she began speaking.
“Once upon a time, there was a princess -”
“Was her name Emily?”
“Ssh! I’m tellin’ it,” was the authoritarian response. “Once upon a time, there was a princess called Emily, and she wanted a horse because all the other princesses had horses. So she went to a place where they had a lot of horses, and she looked at all of them, but she didn’t see the right one – and then right when she was going to leave and look in another place, she saw a brown horse lying down in a stable all on its own, so she went to have a look,” the four year old continued. “And when she petted the horse it had really soft fur and didn’t bite her or anything,” and Nick suppressed a smile as he recalled an encounter Emily had had with a new horse at the ranch some months since, “so she told the horse man she wanted to take it home,” and then Emily’s voice became gruff. “You don’t want this horse, the horse man said. He had a bad owner who hurt him a lot, and now he can’t walk, so nobody can ride him, and he can’t eat very well,” she went on. “So the horse man said to the princess, look at that big horse over there, isn’t he nice? You can have him for - um, um - twenty dollars, but the princess wanted the brown horse, so she told the horse man if he didn’t let her have it she was gonna tell the king to put him in jail.”
“Sounds like she was pretty stubborn.”
“Well, she wanted the brown horse a lot,” Emily went on, the sarcasm missing her completely, “so the horse man said she could have it for nothing, because he didn’t want to go to jail. And the princess had to get a big truck to put the horse in, ‘cause it couldn’t get up by itself, and she drove a long way in the truck until she got to a place called Dallas, Texas – and know who lived there?”
“Who?”
“Cowboy Bill, silly,” Emily said. “And the princess took the horse to him and asked if he could make it better, and he said -” and after a pause Emily continued, trying her best to use the same tone of voice Nick used in the stories he told her. “He said well, your majesty, he’s pretty sick, and it might take me a long time, but the princess said that was okay. And the horse was sad, because it didn’t want to be at Cowboy Bill’s ranch without the princess, so the princess came to visit it every day even when she had to go to school too – then one day she went there to give the horse its breakfast, and know what?”
“What?”
“The horse was standing up and eating all by itself,” was the answer, followed by a yawn. “And it was all better, so Cowboy Bill said the princess could take it home – so she rode it all the way back to the castle, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end,” and Emily twisted round to face Nick. “Was that a good story?”
“It was a really good story,” Nick said, managing to smile as he spoke despite the lump in his throat. “And you know what? I know Greg would like to hear it too, so I think we should go out tomorrow and buy a notebook so we can write it down before we go to see him again,” and he saw Emily’s face light up.
“Can we? Can I draw pictures too?”
“As many as you want,” Nick told her. “Right, missy, time for you to go to sleep,” and he climbed off the bed before bending down to kiss Emily’s forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“Goodnight,” Emily replied, her eyes already half-closed. “Can you leave the door open a little bit?”
“You got it,” Nick said. “Sleep well.” He crossed the room, pausing in the doorway to blow his daughter a kiss, before backing carefully out into the hallway and pulling the door almost all the way closed.
*********
Salem, Massachusetts – 8.15 p.m
He closed the door behind him, stepping into dimly-lit coolness that was miles removed from the heat outside, and he was conscious of his shoes squeaking against the floor as he made his way further into the building.
“The prodigal son returns,” a voice said several feet away; the words were followed by a chuckle as the speaker stepped out of the shadows, and moments later Luke was the recipient of a firm handshake. “Didn’t know you were in town again.”
“Nobody does,” Luke said. “I thought you might be able to use this,” and he reached into his pocket. “I read the update on the website, and I saw you were raising funds for the outreach programmes,” he went on, handing the envelope over. “I figured you could – I don’t know, raffle it off or something. I was just going to mail it, but I was here for the weekend, so…”
“Meet the stars of a hit TV series,” the other man read aloud, once he’d unfolded the sheet of paper the envelope contained. “Return flight to Daytona International Airport for two people, accommodation at the Daytona Beach Hilton - and a day with Luke and the crew at Hog Heaven, base of the latest TV reality show Road Trip,” and he looked up at Luke. “This is very generous of you,” he said, and the words were followed by a smile. “I’m almost tempted to buy all the raffle tickets myself.”
“You know you never need an invitation,” Luke said. “Might be good if you did come out there, actually - they’d probably watch their language if you were around the shop, and so would I,” and he managed a smile of his own. “Well, I should get going,” he said. “You’ve probably been trying to leave here for hours.”
“Only two and a half,” was the answer as the two of them walked back towards the front of the building. “How long are you here for?”
“Couple of days,” Luke told him. “Or until someone screws up and I have to go back – I just needed to get away, you know?”
“I know,” the man replied. “Anything in particular you’re getting away from?”
“Life in general,” and although Luke tried to smile he supposed he hadn’t managed it too well, because his companion raised an enquiring eyebrow. “I’m fine,” he said. “Honestly, Alan, I’m just tired, it’s been a rough week.”
“Well, at least join me for coffee before I go home tonight,” Alan told him. “I know how it goes - you drop in for a weekend and then we don’t see you for months,” and he grinned broadly. “There’s a Starbucks at the end of the block, and we can even sit outside so you can smoke -what do you say?”
“Won’t Beth wonder where you are?”
“She’ll leave the light on and go to bed if I don’t make it back by eleven,” was the answer as Alan pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and locked the door. “We’ve been together fifteen years now – what’s that saying about accepting the things you can’t change? She knows I’m a night owl – come on, Mr. Celebrity, you’re buying,” and the two of them headed down the sidewalk past a sign reading First Church of Salem – Rev. Alan McKenzie, Minister.
**********
He hadn’t intended to tell Alan anything about what had really been going on, but then the family had walked past their table – hugely pregnant young woman, the man at her side carrying a blond-haired boy on his shoulders who was protesting that it wasn’t time for bed yet – and Luke had been unable to hold it all in any longer. He’d sanitized the story as best he could – because despite the fact that Alan wore jeans and a Chicago Cubs shirt beneath his robes during his services, allowed people to call him by his first name, the remnants of a Catholic upbringing were telling Luke that this was a priest for Chrissakes – but he’d still been unable to look his companion in the face by the time he’d finished telling it.
“You’ve got yourself in a bit of a situation,” the minister said, looking up over the rim of his second mug of coffee; Luke’s first mug, which had gone cold long since, sat on the table between them along with an ashtray containing a small mountain of cigarette butts – something that, in itself, was a mute testament to how much stress he was under. “You don’t need me to tell you that, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Luke replied. “I just started out wanting to help him, I honestly did. I mean, we hadn’t seen each other for more than twenty years, we hadn’t kept in touch - it’s not like we’re doing anything behind anyone’s back -”
“I believe you,” was the answer. “Despite the fact that you cuss more than a twenty year navy man on shore leave, you’re a good person,” and there was a warm smile on Alan’s face as he spoke. “I think having them to stay with you in Daytona might have been a mistake, though,” he went on, and Luke’s head came up sharply. “You meant well, I know,” the minister added quickly, “but I think it may have started trains of thought in your head that you didn’t need.”
“It was nice not to come home alone for once, that’s all,” Luke said, staring down at his hands again. “It’s not like I’m a family person, I’m not cut out for it, but -” and he paused, swallowing hard as he thought of how it had felt to sit at House of Blues and watch Emily dancing. “I don’t know why I’m all screwed up like this, Alan -”
“Can I give you a suggestion?” Alan asked, and Luke nodded without looking up. “Keep being his friend, because people in his situation need all the support they can get. Email him, call him every once in a while to see how he’s doing – but don’t see him again. Don’t go to Vegas, don’t have them come to Florida – because you haven’t crossed any boundaries yet, but you’re not far off.”
***********
June 13th, 10.40 a.m – Desert Palms
“So she rode it all the way back to the castle, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end,” Nick intoned as his daughter pointed to the last picture; it showed one of her usual spindly figures, this one with a yellow crown and a pink dress, standing next to a horse that looked more like a brown spider minus a few legs.
“Did you like my story, Greg?” Emily asked as she nestled against his side with his good arm draped round her shoulders. “I worked really hard.”
“Yeah,” Greg replied, the single word making Emily’s eyes light up, and he attempted to raise his right hand. “I -” He grimaced in frustration when the hand fell back after he’d managed to lift it an inch or so away from the bedcovers, and his eyes darted from Nick to the drawing and back again. “Nick -”
“Right here,” Nick said, from where he sat in a chair next to the bed. “What is it?” and he leaned towards Greg. “Looking at the picture?”
“Yeah,” Greg said again. “Em…”
“She drew it, that’s right,” Nick told him. “It’s Princess Emily with the king and her new horse. She was awake at six this morning drawing all these pictures on computer paper - she wouldn’t even wait till we could go and buy her a notebook,” and Nick smiled as he locked eyes with Greg. “She’s impatient, just like you.”
“No, I’m not!” Emily retorted in mock indignation. “I’m the patientest little girl in the whole world!” and she darted her tongue out, making Nick suppress a grin. “Know what, Greg? I’m going to Madison’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon.”
“Huh?”
“She’s my best friend ever,” Emily said patiently, because she’d become used to the fact that she often had to tell Greg the same thing she’d told him the day before. “She goes to my school, and she lives in a big house, and she has a housekeeper called Selena – and her mommy doesn’t go to work, but her daddy’s a – um – he’s a doctor for ladies, but it’s a funny word -”
“Gynaecologist,” Nick murmured, and when he saw the corners of Greg’s mouth twitch upwards his heart leapt.
He is coming back. I knew it.
“- and we’re all gonna sleep at Madison’s house after the party,” Emily was saying. “Her mommy and daddy have someone coming to do magic tricks, and a clown, and Madison’s having a High School Musical cake,” and she looked across the bed at Nick. “We have to go buy her present, Nick.”
“We will,” Nick told her. “Right after we -” and he broke off when he saw Greg looking at him quizzically. “What’s up, G?”
“Car.”
“Car?” Nick echoed, puzzled. “No, we came in my truck,” and he saw Greg shake his head. “What do you mean?”
“Car,” Greg said again, looking down at himself. “This,” and as light dawned in Nick’s head he had to swallow hard before he spoke.
“No, you weren’t in a car wreck,” he said gently, the way he’d answered this question several times of late, and he got up to sit on the edge of the bed so that he could place an arm round Greg and Emily – because none of these previous explanations had ever taken place when their daughter had been in the room. “It happened while you were working – someone hurt you.”
“Who?”
“Kids,” Nick replied, struggling to remain calm. “We caught them, man, it’s okay.”
“Two of them went to jail,” Emily interjected, her little face pinched with anxiety, and there was silence as Greg looked from Nick to their daughter and back again.
“J -” and Greg’s brows drew together as his mouth worked to form the word. “Jail?”
“That’s right,” Nick told him. “They’re not gonna hurt you.”
“When?”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Nick said, his heart in his throat, because he’d given this answer several times too – and each time he’d done it he’d known he was only buying time, because sooner or later Greg was going to be alert enough not to be fobbed off any longer. “You just take it easy.”
“When?” Greg repeated with a little more emphasis, staring directly at Nick, and the ensuing few seconds of silence seemed to stretch into hours before Nick found his voice.
“Eight months ago,” he said, and he watched Greg’s mouth drop open before closing again, the lips pressing together in a thin line; the two of them looked at each other without speaking for an age, and then Greg’s lower lip quivered as tears brimmed in his eyes before trickling down his cheeks.
“No,” Emily said, her voice wavering at this sign of distress. “No, make him stop crying,” and she screwed her face up in a valiant attempt to stem tears of her own. “Please, Nick -” and as Nick wrapped his arms tightly round them both, the brief bubble of happiness having burst, all he could think about was two words.
Encino, California.
************
“Right,” Nick said as he pulled the truck into a spot outside Toys R Us and killed the engine. “Let’s go pick something for Madison.”
“I don’t want to,” Emily said quietly. “I wanna go back and see Greg.”
“We can see him again tomorrow before you go to the party – there’s plenty of time.”
“I don’t want to go to the party, and you can’t make me.”
“That’s right, I can’t,” Nick said. “But Madison’s going to be sad if you don’t turn up, isn’t she?”
“I don’t care,” Emily said stubbornly, and she made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt. “I need to go and see Greg, because you made him cry.”
“Wait a second, what?” Nick asked, his temples pulsating with the beginnings of a headache. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did!” his daughter said. “You told him he’d been in the hospital for a long time! How come you told him that?”
“Because he asked me to,” Nick replied as he fought to keep a lid on his emotions. “I wasn’t going to lie to him, sweetie.”
“Why not?” Emily asked, her voice rising in pitch and volume; a second or two later, Nick’s cell phone rang, and the Dallas area code he saw when he snatched it from his pocket was the final straw.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake -”
“That’s a swear, Nick!”
“Shut up!” he shouted, his temper finally snapping as he crammed the phone back into his pocket without answering the call; he turned the key in the ignition as Emily began to cry, and he was dimly aware of a small voice sobbing I hate you! as he peeled out of the parking lot, blinded by tears.
***********
He brought the truck to a stop in its usual spot under the apartment building, and then he drew a deep breath before unfastening his seatbelt and turning round.
Emily had cried herself to sleep, and lay with her head tilted to one side and her thumb in her mouth. Nick sat looking at her for a long time, and then he pressed his sleeve against his eyes before he climbed down and walked back to the rear passenger door; he opened it almost silently, and as he was unfastening Emily’s seatbelt she stirred and blinked before fixing red-rimmed eyes on him.
“I yelled at you,” he told his daughter. “I used a bad word, and I shouldn’t have done that,” and he reached up towards Emily’s tangled red hair, only to have her shrink away from him. “Honey?” he said, a lump rising painfully in his throat as he saw the wary expression on the little girl’s face. “Can I give you a hug?” He held out his arms as Emily slid down from her seat - wanting more than anything to hold her and tell her he was sorry, that everything would be all right – but they fell to his sides again, heavy as lead, when she stepped carefully around him before walking towards the elevator without saying a word.
To be continued.
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