Chapter 8

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne



Nicole looked down at her coffee ... good, rich. Jason had brewed it with some machine. She frowned over it. They sat at a table in a wide open kitchen, nothing like the kitchen back home–back where they’d argued across the table, meals their mother had cooked spread out between them. There had never been a lot of food ... but the conversation between mother and son ... mother and friends.

The early morning sunlight washed through the large windows and across the white linoleum. Outside a bright red bird sailed between the trees ... then back again.

Their conversation had already covered the basics ... great morning, good food, how did you sleep ... Nicole could hear the clock in the living room ticking one miserable second at a time.

Silence. As much as she preferred it, she’d learned that it wasn’t always her friend.

She’d come down late, having slept in, partly because of the medicine, and partly because she’d read for much of the night, in between snatches of sleep. She still had the story running through her head, the images that had seemed so clear ... that mixed in and around the picture inside the book of the hairless lion ...

She’d solemnly traced the picture over and over again with her finger as she lay in the room ... in that bed ... that was too much for her.

She was just a simple girl from the Bronx. That was all she needed. Dusty needed more. Dusty deserved more.

Across from her, Jason was staring down at the plate of food he’d fixed and didn’t eat.

Nicole wondered what he was thinking about. He seemed to jump from one worry to another. Worried about Dusty ... or about what heas going to do with Dusty. He seemed restless, agitated ... somehow deeply affected ... then he would reach for his cup, check the time, and stare up into the air ... maybe thinking about trisha ... still worrying over it. Still somewhat restless, worried about what he was going to do with her, or his feelings for her.

It was amazing how easilly she could read his moods. He was still so much the same brother she had known. He still had the same mannerisms when he was thinking about a girl. She was almost sure he wouldn’t appreciate the notation.

She wished she could talk to him about it. She wanted to ask.

There were issues there, Nicole thought. Trisha loved him—that much was easy to see. And Jason—in the few meals the three of them had shared together at the hospital—had just been ... aware of her. He would listen if Trisha was talking, turn those rich brown eyes on her, so steady and aware ... he would reach for her hand before he spoke.

“Are you going to marry her?”

He looked up then, surprised, then laughed slightly, obviously uncomfortable with the question. “Not today.”

But maybe ... Nicole wasn’t sure where the sudden urge to pester him with questions came from, to push, and to prod. It wasn’t like her.

Not now.

But there had been a time when she had peppered him with questions, walking down the block, up the stairs to their apartment, on nights when she couldn’t sleep and they went up to the roof top to look at the stars.

He didn’t always answer. He’d pushed back, they’d fought as only siblings could ... but he didn’t always answer.

She understood now that he didn’t always have an answer. Just because he was her big brother, he didn’t know everything. He couldn’t answer for everything.

Even for promises he’d made.

“We need to head out in a few,” he said, pushing away from the table, leaving the discussion of marriage behind.

Was he afraid to make promises? Because he hadn’t kept a vital one?

“Before we go ...” he walked over to the kitchen door, picked up an long box. “This came this morning for you. I had them deliver it special.”

“Jason...”

He set it down on the table before her. “I don’t want you to go back to New York, Nicole.”

She stared up at him, unable to assure him otherwise.

“It’s not just because of Dusty. I don’t know what I would do if you left him here, but it’s not just that. I’ve ... always wanted you here. Part of me ... part of me has always wanted you here. I know you think otherwise. There’s part of me that wishes otherwise.”

“I don’t need gifts.”

“Maybe I need to give them. The fact is ... there were some pretty dark nights. I couldn’t go back and get you. I couldn’t save myself, much less ... anyone else. It’s selfish ... but it doesn’t change that you’re here now. It would be what I deserved if you walked out, went back to New York. I can’t go back there ... but I’m hoping. I’m hoping ... this will be enough.”

He pointed to the package and once again pulled out his knife. This time he opened it for her, running the blade down the long taped flaps. He popped the ends and pushed away the filling.

And pulled out a long picture frame. As he turned it over, Nicole felt her eyes fill.

It was a shot of the New York Public library on 5th street in Manhattan, their mother’s favorite branch ... and therefore her own. In the front, guarding the steps, sat Patience and Fortitude, the two stone lions.

How many times had she stood on those steps, between the lions ... on in front of them, staring at them, searching for fortitude ... searching for ... something.

Tears pricked her eyes, but this time she wasn’t thinking of New York. She was thinking of a far away place from the book she had read ... of another lion, the one in the book.

She reached out a finger and touched Fortitude’s mane ... ever so gently, ever so reverently.

“Please stay.”

Jason couldn’t have known about the lion, that she had read about the lion. But he knew what was important to her ... what had been important to her.

Standing on the steps between Patience and Fortitude.

She didn’t know what was important anymore.

As he set the framed print aside, she went into his arms

And sobbed.

* * *

Julie really wished her task assigned had been easier. She’d spent days wrangling through red tape, court appointments and a few spur of the moment meetings. She’d been on the phone, dealing with the logistics of moving to another state, learning the options for Dusty in South Carolina, and arranging for all the information to be relayed to Jason and Nicole.

Dusty’s mood swings ranged from hotly arrogant, to extremely silent. It wasn’t that he showed any form of violence. But he didn’t pay attention if he didn’t want to.

On top of all that, she had to deal with Gabriel. With the buried feelings for Gabriel. She was glad she was leaving him in New York ... they needed their space.

There space had always been an issue between the two of them.

At least, she thought, their constant nit-picking at each other had kept Dusty entertained.

They were finally on the plane to South Carolina. Still, it wasn’t easy on the boy. He had no concept of an older brother. He only knew that Nicole had come by, told him she was going to see this odd brother. That she would be back and everything would be all right.

But she wasn’t back.

Besides, what would an older brother of his be doing in South Carolina?

Julie only shook her head. Spoken like a true New York boy.

I’m from North Georgia, she signed to him again.

Do you see your family?

Some. But I have a life in New Jersey. They sometimes come north to see me.

Then why do I have to go?

They’d been round and round this several times. Mentioning his father closed him up. He didn’t want things to change. It wasn’t that he wanted to be with his father, or rather the woman his father had stuck him with, but he seemed to prefer that to the unknown.

He doesn’t care about me.

He’s your brother. And Nicole’s there.

He waved his hands dramatically. I know. I get to fly on a plane.

It had been a major bribing point for days. You’ll get to fly on an airplane Julie looked around the first class accommodations and smiled at the stewardess who walked by. The stewardesses had treated him like a king, and he’d taken advantage of it — like any boy should. He could have recoiled, ignored the treatment. He could have lashed out.

For Julie, who’d seen more than her share of hurt children, crushed lives ... abuse, neglect ... what she saw in Dusty gave her hope. He was one strong kid.

Sadly, of all the things Dusty talked about, he never talked about friends ... boys or even girls he would miss. He hadn’t attended school in the last year–not regularly. He had not been receiving services to help with his disability.

There were few people he could communicate with, even with a school that was equipt to deal with deaf children. He had mentioned a teacher, his social worker ... the loneliness could have crippled him.

A boy of his age in New York should have his own group. His own place. Not a gang ... but friendships.

It won’t be New York. Dusty signed when she looked back.

Julie smiled and reached to squeeze his hand, then signed, big buildings do not make a home. Family and friends make a home.

He rolled his eyes. Easy for you to say. Georgia girl.

* * *

Nicole had done some things in her life that had been hard. She’d done some thing that she regretted. Still, nothing ... nothing compared to the tension of standing waiting with Jason in the baggage area waiting for Dusty.

She looked around nervously, expecting her father to walk out of the crowd. He’d found her, on the dark road ... he could find her now. He was out there, no one knew where.

She placed a hand to her side, where she still felt the pull of pain.

She knew him enough to know that he wouldn’t leave South Carolina without the jewels.

She shouldn’t have come. The road of good intentions ... how did the saying go? Wen tno where? Was paved with ... she didn’t know, but she was sure it applied.

She’d never been what her younger brother needed. Never an example of right from wrong. Rarely an example of love. It had taken a six month stay in prison to turn her around, to make her look in the mirror and see the life she had made for her self ...

And to believe in the life that she really wanted.

One where no one had control.

One that was better for Dusty then it had been for her.

But most of that had been a far off dream ... just a secret wish she’d held in the bottom of her heart. She preferred books to people, and was uncomfortable in social situations, at best. She didn’t know how to handle herself, make friends, meet new people. How could she be enough for Dusty when she couldn’t be enough for herself ... she’d done so many things that would have shamed her mother.

Jason hadn’t even been able to stay.

What kind of life was she bringing Dusty into anyway? What had she done to Jason? He hadn’t wanted the trouble ... and now ... she had forced it on him.

She felt his hand at her back. “Why don’t we find a place to sit?”

“We should be, where he can see ... us.”

“We will,” he ran a hand over her hair, “but we have time yet.”



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