Angel of Redemption (87 page)

“I’ve never laid eyes on such a beauty. Are you
his wife?”

I smile softly back at him and bow my head. “No,
sir.”

“She’s my girlfriend, Granddad,” Dean chuckles.

“Well, you better hurry before someone else
snatches her up, son.”

We sit and talk for awhile. Within an hour,
Granddad can remember that Dean is an adult and working at Wyatt House. He
knows Aiden and Emily have two small children, although he can’t recall their
names. Dean once told me that he doesn
’t seem to remember the accident
or that Dean was in jail. If he does, he doesn’t bring it up.

Every once in awhile he slips back into a memory that
happened decades ago, talking about it as though it happened recently. When he
starts doing it more frequently and becomes frustrated when he can’t sort
things out, I see Mrs. Elliot and Dean make eye contact.

“Granddad,” Dean says. “I want to take Kayla into
town and show her around. We’ll be back a little later, okay?”

His cloudy look seems to appear out of nowhere as
he looks up. “Who’s Kayla?”

We say our good-byes. Even though he can’t
remember who I am, he kisses my hand and winks at me. Dean drives me into the
city of Eau Claire. It’s more of a town, really. There are a lot of little art
galleries and shops downtown that are fun to look in. We get a few interesting
looks from the locals, whose eyes scan over Dean
’s tattoos. One woman
follows us around her antique shop for the entire fifteen minutes we’re
browsing. I’m not sure if she thinks we’re going to break something or steal
something, but it’s annoying. Even if I wanted to buy something, I wouldn’t
just because of her asinine behavior. It doesn’t seem to bother Dean.

After lunch in a small caf
é, Dean takes a
detour to Elk Creek Lake. We sit on a dock with our feet dangling in the water,
watching the fishermen catch nothing for an hour.

“This is all you wanted to do on your birthday?”
I ask skeptically.

He shrugs. “I just wanted to spend the day with
you. And I wanted to introduce you to Granddad. He’s worse now than he was six
months ago.”

“How long has he had Alzheimer’s?”

“Almost nine years. The average life span after
someone’s diagnosed is eight to ten years. I don’t know how much longer he’ll
be around.”

“That’s just an estimate, though, right?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hate seeing
him like this.”

I grip his hand tightly and bring it to my mouth,
kissing his knuckles. I don’t know what to say, so letting him know that I’m
here for him is the best I can do. I do have something I hope will make him
feel better, though. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the gift I’ve been
holding onto. It’s wrapped, and I’ve put a tiny bow on top.

“What’s this?” Dean asks when I hand it to him.

“Your birthday present.”

“I thought the present you gave me this morning
was perfect.”

I bump his shoulder with mine. “Just open it.”

He carefully opens the packaging and lifts the
lid. “Jesus, Kayla.”

“Do you like it?”

Inside is a stainless steel TAG Heuer watch. It
’s
the least expensive one they had and, to be honest, it was a stretch on my
budget, but I wanted to get him something nice. Andy assured me that any man
would love to have a watch like it, but I don’t care about “any man.” I just
hope Dean likes it.

“Baby, this is too much.”

“You don’t have a watch,” I say quietly. “I
thought maybe you’d like it.

“I love it. It’s just
… Shit, this is
nice.” He pulls it from the box and flips it over, smiling as he reads the
inscription. “I love you, too.” Leaning over, he kisses me, sucking on my lower
lip. “Thank you.”

Kayla

We get back to the house
early in the evening. It smells so amazing that Dean and I are drawn to the
kitchen like cartoon characters who float their way across the room on their
tiptoes, enticed by a visible vapor. When we get there, two plates are set on
the island next to a bottle of red wine with a note.

Accidentally made an extra steak pie
for dinner. Help yourself. It’s in the warmer.

P.S. The bubbly’s for you as well.
Happy birthday, Dean!

“
How do you accidentally make an extra
pie?” I ask, amused.

Dean grins and shakes his head. “You don’t.”

“
That was very sweet of her, then.”

“
Yes, it was.” He picks up the bottle and
reads the label. “
Chateau Krug Champagne
Brut Collection, 1985.
Nice. My grandad likes to collect vintage wines and
champagnes. I bet he’s been holding onto this one for awhile.”

“That was a good year,” I tease. “I bet it tastes
even better than it looks.”

Dean narrows his eyes at me and smirks. “Be
careful, sweetheart. You think you’re safe just because we’re here? I know so
many little hiding places to drag you into, it’s not even funny.”

It’s suddenly way too hot in the room. “Can we
eat outside on the patio?” I ask, desperate for some air.

“Sure,” he chuckles.

The evening air is warm, but there’s a nice
breeze blowing. We sit at the table across from each other and Dean pours two
glasses of wine while I serve the pie. If I thought it smelled wonderful
before, it’s nothing compared to the aroma that attacks me when I cut into it.
I think I even moan.

“So is Mrs. Elliot just a nurse?” I ask as we
begin to eat.

“What do you mean?”

“Is she just your granddad’s nurse or is she
…more?”

Dean chokes. “I don’t know, Kayla. That’s not
something I really want to think about.”

I giggle. “Sorry. I just think it must take a lot
to look after someone full time like that. I mean, I get taking care of your
kids—they’re part of you—but
…I don’t know.” I take a bite
and swallow it. “Do you ever want kids?” I blurt out without meaning to. I
wince as Dean’s fork stops on its way to his mouth. When he looks up at me, I
shift my eyes around before finally meeting his gaze.

“Uh
… Where’d that come from?” His voice is
quiet, but strong.

“Just curious,” I squeak out.

“Um
… Do you?” he asks seriously, setting
down his fork and scratching the side of his jaw like he does when he gets
nervous.

I shrug.
“I guess I’m already kind of
having kids—I mean, with Claire and the baby. I don’t know. I was just
thinking about it. Andy was talking about having kids with Sara the other day,
and I…I love kids, but I guess I’ve never really seriously considered having
any of my own.” Dean lets a long breath out from between pursed lips. He opens
his mouth and then closes it again. He’s obviously thinking very carefully
about his answer. “You can say no,” I offer, thinking that maybe he doesn’t
want to admit it to me.

“I know I can,” he assures. “Um, a couple of
months ago I would have said that I absolutely never want kids.
” My
heart speeds up a little. “But I guess now it’s not totally off the table.”

I nod and look down, only slightly aware of the
fact that I’m smiling. We finish our dinner in comfortable silence until Dean
points out the storm clouds rolling in.

“Looks like it’s gonna be rough tonight,” he
says. “I’ll bring some wood in from the shed.”

By the time we collect our plates and glasses and
get into the house, the rain has started.

“Go on upstairs,” Dean tells me. “I’ll be back in
a couple of minutes.” When he closes the door behind him, the house is eerily
silent. I climb the stairs fast, making my way to the bedroom he showed me
earlier.

Turning on the lights, I get a much better look
at my surroundings. The room is large, furnished with a king-size bed, two
nightstands, and a huge dresser. There’s also an armoire and a leather settee.
In the corner is a gorgeous, stone, wood-burning fireplace.

The bed is insanely comfortable. I sprawl across the
down comforter and bury my face in a pillow. A few minutes later, while I’m
still relishing how soft everything is, I hear a low chuckle.

“Comfortable?”

“Oh my God! Yes,” I groan, rolling onto my back.
Dean has an armful of firewood and a smudge across his cheek. He sets it down,
and I watch him as he starts a fire.

“Were you a Boy Scout?” I ask when it takes him
less than two minutes to get it roaring.

“No, why?” he laughs.

“Because you’re awfully good at that.”

He strips off his now-dirty shirt and tosses it
to the side while stalking toward the bed.

“I’m awfully good at a lot of things,” he says,
kicking off his shoes and crawling over me. There’s a crack of lightning
followed less than half a second later by booming thunder.

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding,” I say, glancing
toward the window.

“The storms out here are a little crazier than
the ones in the city. The power’ll go off soon.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Well, I guess it means I’ll just have to explore
my way around the bed.” I feel his hand slip up my side and onto my shoulder,
sliding my bra strap off. I wipe the smudge of dirt from his cheek before
lifting my head to meet him in a searing kiss.

As the storm grows stronger and louder, Dean
undresses me. The lights flicker a few times while he’s between my legs, his
mouth bringing me closer and closer but never quite allowing me to go over the
edge.

When the storm is right on top of us, the power
finally fails, plunging us into darkness except for the slight glow from the
fire. I hold him close, loving the weight of him as he rocks against me. My
heels dig into his calves, my nails scratch down his back, and then I’m there
and he’s there and I don’t want to let him go, but my body feels like jelly.

“Happy birthday.” I smile and kiss his shoulder.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his side.

“Best birthday ever.”

* * *

The next morning, Dean and
I don’t get out of bed until after ten. When we finally get up, we take our
time getting dressed and heading down to the kitchen. We drink coffee and eat
bagels on the patio and are surprised when Mrs. Elliot and Granddad join us. He’s
especially lucid this morning, and we sit and listen to him tell stories of his
youth and about raising Joe and Charlotte, Mita’s mother. Now I’ve seen two
completely different personalities.

Around lunchtime, he begins to get tired. Dean
and I have to head back to Minneapolis anyway, so we say our good-byes, pack up
our bags, and head out.

*
* *

On Friday morning, we both get ready to
go back to work.

“Do you have a lot to do today?” Dean asks.

I shake my head. “Not really. I have an adoption
hearing this morning and a termination visit this afternoon. Then I’m going to
need a really stiff drink.”

A sly smile crosses his face, and I know exactly
what he’s thinking. I love his dirty mind. He kisses my shoulder. “Of alcohol,
Dean,
” I laugh. “Although a drink of your stiff—”

“All right. Stop before I take you back to bed,
”
he interrupts, chuckling. “I’m going to go make coffee.”

“You started it,” I yell after him.

I finish getting ready, slipping on a pair of
slacks and a red blouse. Staring at my shoes in the closet, I briefly consider
wearing the red pumps that Dean loves so much, but somehow, wearing them for
anyone other than him feels wrong now. Instead, I go for a simple pair of black
peep toes.

“Wow.” He whistles as I enter the kitchen.

“Thanks.” I grin. “I love adoption days. Feels
like everything I’ve been working for is finally paying off. Too bad I have to
follow it up with a termination visit.”

“Are you worried?”

“No. It’ll be fine. Dana’s going to be there,
too.”

“Do the parents know it’s a termination visit?”

“Yeah. We told her last week that we’re no longer
going to be working with her. Until the hearing, she’s technically allowed
monthly visitation, but the hearing’s in three weeks.”

Dean frowns. “Just
…be careful.”

“I will,” I promise.

“Good.” He bends down to plant a kiss on my
mouth. “I love you.”

I smile up at him. “I love you, too. See you
tonight.”

My morning is fantastic. An adoption hearing is
the best way to come back to work after a break. The courthouse is flooded with
happy families all dressed up and taking pictures. Lawyers and social workers
get hugs and handshakes. Judges are smiling and kids are laughing. Warren’s
here with a kid from his caseload and Andy has two kids whose adoptions are
being finalized.

It’s after eleven when we finish. Andy and I have
sushi from the Asian bistro, and then I make my way back to work. I spend the
first part of the afternoon going through my cases with Kate, and then I clean
up and submit my adoption case for closure. It’s a great feeling.

Dana’s on call, which is part of the reason we
scheduled Lizzie and Garrett Turkins’ final visit for today. Sara is in and
out, but she’s acting funny. I’m about to ask her what’s wrong when she jumps
up.

“I have a visit. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Dana and I look at each other. She’s obviously
noticed the odd behavior as well.

“We’ve got about ten minutes,” she says glancing
up at the clock on the wall.

“I know. Do you have any Wite-Out? I don’t want
to reprint this,” I grumble, looking down at a mistake I’ve made on a court
report. I only noticed it after I printed it out.

“Try Sara’s drawer. I borrowed some from her last
week.”

Getting up, I lean over and pull out the drawer
of Sara’s desk. Sure enough, there’s a bottle of Wite-Out. I glance down at her
calendar. I don’t do it intentionally, but my eyes are drawn to today’s date.

Office visit: Abigail and Zachary – 3:00

I tilt my head. Yep, that’s exactly what it says.
My stomach drops. That’s why she was so nervous. Dean’s ex-wife is in the
building. I look up at the clock. Or at least she will be in five minutes.

“What’s the matter?” Dana asks, concerned.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? You’re white as a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I force out just as my phone rings. I
answer quickly. “Hello?”

“Ms. Brooks?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Xavier. Ms. Lizzie Turkins is here to see
you.”

“We’ll be right up,” I say blankly, turning to
Dana. “Are you ready?” She nods.

We weave through the hallways toward the front.
Lizzie looks rough
—disheveled and nervous. She passes through the
metal detector like she’s walking on hot coals. She’s definitely on something.
This isn’t going to be an easy visit.

Before we go back to the visiting rooms, I scan
the lobby. I don’t see anyone that I think could be Stephanie, but since I don’t
know what she looks like, I could be wrong.

Once Lizzie is settled, I leave her with Dana to
wait for Garrett’s foster mother.
Lizzy hasn’t seen Dana since the case
was transferred. This will give them a chance to talk.

I lean against the wall behind Xavier’s desk.
Maybe they’re already here, in one of the rooms. A few minutes later, as I
’m
lost in thought, little Garrett comes bounding in, pulling on the hand of the
woman who will soon be petitioning to adopt him.

“We’ll be about an hour,” I tell her. “Why don’t
you come back in an hour and a half?”

“Sure,” she answers, nodding. The extra half hour
is just a security boundary. It allows us to make sure foster parents and
biological parents don’t run into each other. That’s gotten messy before. I
take Garrett’s hand, and we wave good-bye. I’ve just turned my back when I hear
a soft voice behind me.

“Stephanie Newbaker. I’m here to see Sara
Dravin.” I can’t help myself
—I turn to look. I stare at the woman.
She’s nothing like what I’d imagined. She’s tiny, shorter than me, and probably
not more than ninety pounds. Her jet-black hair is pulled into a ponytail, and
her pale face is smothered in heavy makeup, covering what look like meth
pockmarks. It’s kind of sad to see, actually. She must have been really pretty
once.

It takes me a minute to realize she’s staring at
me, too. Her lips are pressed tightly together, her startling blue eyes
narrowed. I don’t know how, but I suddenly have no doubt she knows who I am. I
look away. I’m not easily shaken, but this has definitely done it. A million
thoughts are running through my head.