The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(82)

“I don’t know how you’re holding up, kid,” Al said.

“Look, all I can do is get to eighteen, show I have an income and can pay the bills and get the boys home. This isn’t forever. And this is the only choice there is.”

“I just don’t want you to work yourself to death before you’re twenty,” Al said.

“With you breathing down my neck all the time, I won’t be able to,” Justin said. “Besides, you work more than forty....”

“Yeah, but I’m one guy. You’re three guys and a sick mother.”

“I got this, man,” he said.

On a couple of Sundays Al was able to convince Justin to let him take him to Grants Pass to pick up his brothers and take them all to the nursing home. It gave him a little peace of mind to be there, to see the three boys together. The house they were living in wasn’t much better than the one Justin was holding on to in Thunder Point, but it didn’t seem like a bad place. And the younger boys weren’t thrilled with it but they were making the best of it in hopes that Justin would soon be able to gather them back together.

It was a very busy town through the month and Al was included in much of it, but he never failed to check in with Justin on a daily basis. He watched the kid’s weight, marked whether or not there were circles under his eyes, took it upon himself to make sure Justin was eating as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

He had Ray Anne during this time and could acknowledge, though privately, he’d be lost without her. She sympathized, made him laugh, entertained him. She insisted he attend some of the local celebrations her friends were having—graduation, for one. Not only did she love showing him off, but it also took his mind away from the Russell kids, separated by fate and doing everything they could to remain a family.

“Is your real estate business suffering because of me?” Al asked Ray Anne one night.

“Why would it be?” she countered.

“I ask a lot of you,” he said.

She laughed at him and said, “You never ask for anything from me!”

“I ask you to wait up late for me when I work, late enough so we can be together when you should sleep for the next day’s work. I crave that rooftop when I have a night off and I want you to show me the best places to eat. And I impose on you all the time because when you take your clothes off for me, I’m in heaven. A heaven I’m sure I don’t deserve.”

And she just smiled and said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He was so grateful to hear her say that. He was also thankful that no one ever asked him, given that he was so concerned about these boys, why didn’t he take it upon himself to become the responsible adult, the foster parent. He had no reasonable excuse and would be so ashamed to have to admit that he wasn’t good enough for the job. He wasn’t educated, could barely read, had no experience with kids, held his own life together by the weakest thread. They should have a parent who could manage money and save for their futures, who could help them with their studies and guide them as they looked for further education. And the one chance he had at a family, he’d failed them. Those Russell kids had had more than their share of challenges. He’d just be one more.

Then came the day it all fell apart for him. He drove Justin to Grants Pass to pick up the boys. Danny and Kevin came outside to get in the car and Kevin had an enormous black eye under the rims of his thick glasses.

“What the f**k?” Justin said.

“Never mind,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Who did that to you? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Forget about it. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” Justin insisted. “Danny, what happened to him?”

Reluctantly, with great trepidation, Danny said, “Ernest, the father, whacked him. With his fist. He told him to get in the kitchen and clean it up and take out all the garbage in the house and when Kevin didn’t get right up, he shook him and then plastered him. Kevin was doing something and didn’t jump on the chores. There’s three of their kids and three fosters and only the fosters do the work. And Ernest drinks.”

“That’s not going to happen!” Justin said, getting out of his van and storming toward the house.

“Whoa,” Al said, running after him.

But Justin was on the move. He crashed through the front door, Al right on his heels. There was a woman in the kitchen, a real pleasant-looking woman in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, and three kids lying around the family room—one with an iPad, one texting on her phone, one watching TV. And those kids, Al quickly observed, looked at Justin and Al with sneers on their faces. He couldn’t guess their exact ages—roughly the same as Kevin and Danny, somewhere between ten and sixteen. Two boys and a girl.

“What’s this?” the woman asked.

“What the hell happened to my brother, Evelyn?” Justin demanded.

She wiped her hands on a towel. “Oh, that eye bruise? That was just an accident. Sorry about that. He was messing around and caught an elbow. You know boys!” And then she smiled.

“He said Ernest slugged him because he wasn’t fast enough on the chores!”

“What kind of story is that?” she asked, laughing. “And who is this man?”

“Where is he?” Al asked. “Your husband?”