We all get in my rental car and stop at the first coffee shop we see. We order coffee and sit down.
After we’ve all taken several sips of our drinks, I tell them everything the detective told me. Preston sits there shaking his head, a sorrowful look on his face, and Christine just looks horrified. I wonder if she’s thinking about her own son.
"This isn’t going to reflect badly on the company, is it? On Phil?" I direct my question to Preston.
"I don’t see why it would, Jake. Phil’s been deceased for over a year. Clearly, he wasn’t involved in any aspect of what Lauren’s been doing. In fact, if anything, it looks like this was something she decided to do once he was gone. There’s just no reason to question otherwise. Also, you’re the one running the company now. And obviously, you have nothing to do with this either. However, if it makes you feel better, I can make our lawyers aware of the situation. If anyone prints a word that we don’t like, we will sue for slander. And we’d win."
I nod.
"I don’t anticipate this affecting the company at all. But, Jake, if it does, we’ll face it together, okay?"
I’m silent for a minute, thoughts whizzing through my mind again.
"At least we won’t have to worry about her contesting Phil’s will now," Preston says. "She’ll have to drop that lawsuit. She has other more pressing concerns." He lets out a shallow laugh.
Preston, Christine and I talk through the situation for the length of time it takes for us to finish our coffees, and then Preston tells me to catch an earlier flight and get back home. Clearly, I’m in no frame of mind to be at the office today. I take him up on it. I thank both of them, hoping that they see how much their support means to me, and drop them back off at their car.
As they’re walking away, Christine pauses and I hear her tell Preston she’ll meet him at the car in a second. Then she walks back to where I’m standing and says, "Jake, I haven’t asked you how things are going with Evie? Have you reminded her yet?" She smiles.
She’s talking about our conversation at that clusterfuck of a benefit where Gwen got her claws in Evie. I take a deep breath, looking Christine in the eye. "I f**ked up, Christine. I don’t know. I’m still working on it."
She tilts her head, studying me. "Well, then, you have more than one reason to hurry back to Cincinnati, don’t you?" She puts her hands on her hips. "And just a tip, if she won’t listen to you, write your feelings down. Girls like letters." She winks and I can’t help grinning at her. She gives me a quick hug and hurries off to join Preston.
I return to the airport and luckily, there’s a seat on a flight leaving in an hour. I sit down to wait and pull out my phone. I dial Doc's number. He doesn’t answer, but I leave a brief message, letting him know that I just met with Detective Peterson, who he apparently works with, and asking him to call me.
An hour later, I’m sitting on my seat on the plane when I hear my phone ding with a new email. I pull it out, the ding reminding me that I need to shut it off before takeoff.
When I open the email, I see it’s from Doc.
Leo,
I got your message and understood the reason for your call. I’d like you to hear what I have to say without having to respond.
Sometimes people are unpredictable. But often times, they’re not. Over the years, I’ve gotten good at knowing who is likely to surprise me, and who isn’t. People who have certain propensities don’t generally let them go, especially when it becomes clear that a relationship with the object of their obsession is becoming more and more unlikely. Those people generally look to replace that person. You had no way of knowing that and I wasn’t going to put that on your shoulders. But I hope you see why I couldn’t let that happen. I hope you see why I monitored the situation and used my knowledge to intervene.
You fought for other people your whole life, Leo. Despite the fact, that no one ever showed you how to do that, or taught you why that was noble and brave. And then when you needed it the most, no one was there to fight for you. I hope you understand my reasons for doing so now, despite the fact that I've overstepped my bounds.
And it’s my hope that you will see, that I fought for you because you’re worth fighting for.
Doc
Ten minutes later, as the plane rises into the sky, I look out the window at the sparkling blue water disappearing through the clouds. Emotions are threatening to come up my throat, the will to fight stronger than ever. As I lean back in my seat, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, it registers that for the first time, Doc called me Leo. Somehow, he knew I was ready.
CHAPTER 30
When I get home very late that night, I throw on just a pair of workout pants, and go out on my balcony. I sit down on one of the two chairs out there and put my feet up on the ledge, staring out at the city lights. I just sit and let my mind wander. I think about where I came from, all the miserable things I went through to end up in foster care. I think about my mom for a long time, something I've never really allowed myself to do.
She had tried to get clean a couple times. It never took, but when she was trying, I had gotten glimpses of who she might have been if her life had been different, or maybe if she had been strong enough to lift herself above her circumstances, even a little bit. She had tried to bake cookies with Seth and me one time when my dad was out. I got the feeling that she was trying to do something "mom like," trying to be someone she knew she had failed at being so far. She was trying too hard, humming and chatting a mile a minute. But I didn’t care. At least she was finally trying. While they were baking, she got out the cards and asked me if I wanted to learn how to play poker. So she taught me the basic rules and we sat at our small kitchen table and played for toothpicks while Seth watched. It was one of the only times my mom paid us any real attention and I was so happy, I couldn’t stop smiling. But then we smelled something and black smoke started wafting up out of the oven. The cookies were burning. She pulled them out, shrieking, and tossing them on the stove. And then it was like something just died in her eyes, and she retreated back inside to that place that she usually lived, vacant, unavailable. "I always ruin everything," she had said, emotionless. "I never get anything right." And then she had gone to the couch and sat there watching t.v. and drinking for the rest of the afternoon.