Lights Out (24 page)

It took them about thirty minutes to tour the front half of the facility, where the cats were kept, and another thirty to visit the dogs. An hour later they were back in their cars, headed to the park located ten minutes from the school.

Joe tried to hear his own thoughts over the noise in his car, looking in the rearview mirror at Shane, Taylor, and three others as they tried to outtalk each other. He was glad he managed to drive today, reliving the moment when Shane had seen him outside in the hallway. It was priceless. The pleasure and surprise on his nephew’s face had been a sucker punch to his heart. He loved that kid.

He looked in his rearview mirror at Piper trailing him in her car. He hadn’t seen much of her so far today. She’d been at the back of the tour, busy being the leader, organizing her world. He and Shane were now a part of her world, organized along with everything else, or as much as he’d allowed her to organize them. She thought she was being subtle in her attempts to take care of him and Shane. Feeding them when he’d stopped to pick up Shane after work, talk, talk, and more talk, coffee ready and waiting when he dropped in most mornings, helping Shane with homework, treating him like he belonged to her, just like her sisters.

They arrived at their destination and children spilled out from their cars, some running and screaming like banshees toward the table of food that had been set up ahead of time while others headed toward the swings.

The kids spent the next thirty minutes plowing through pizza before moving off to play. Some had taken off toward the basketball hoops behind the picnic tables. Shane and Joe stood near the soccer goal, a soccer ball at their feet. Other children, Taylor included, were moving toward the two. Joe looked the part. He looked like a big kid; hair loosely tucked under a baseball cap, loose-fitting t-shirt, shorts, tennis shoes on his feet. It was good to see him relaxed.

Piper watched as Joe organized the kids into teams. He looked to be a pretty good player, but what did she know? Soccer wasn’t a sport she’d followed.

A few minutes later the soccer game was in full swing with about eight kids on one side and six with Joe on the other; a handicap, she guessed. Taylor had just scored and was now running around Joe, taunting him, doing some kind of dance. She was shy unless she was in a game of some type, then she became this whole other girl. Joe was laughing, a picture worth a thousand words.

Ten minutes later she caught Trudy and Heather starting to clean up. She stood up and walked over to join them and clean up the remains. Fifteen minutes later, cleaning done, they loaded up for the return trip to school. It was about twenty minutes before school let out so she opted to wait in her car, maybe even close her eyes for a second.

She’d just lowered her seat when she heard someone knocking on the window. It was Joe standing outside her car’s passenger door. She unlocked the door and he slid into the seat beside her.

“Haven’t had a chance to talk to you today,” he said.

“Nope,” she said, taking in Joe’s sexy, windblown look.

“So you are raiser of children, coffee shop owner, and organizer of events,” he said, smiling at her.

She yawned.

“And tired,” he added.

“A little,” she said, sitting up, not as tired as she thought.

“Today was nice,” he said, a few minutes later.

“Glad you enjoyed it. Shane appreciated your being here,” she said.

They were both quiet for a second. Joe looked out the front window and then at her, laying back, seat lowered to the reclining position, shorts on, t-shirt pulled tightly over her body, hair pulled back.

“What happened to Shane’s mother?” she asked, looking over at him. He didn’t look at her, but instead turned his eyes to stare out the front window.

“I don’t know. She took off almost two years ago. We haven’t heard from her since.”

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“Don’t know, Piper,” he said, his words a little clipped. It was silent again. “You know, I don’t really want to talk about Shane,” he said, turning now to look at her, his face serious, and with more than a little challenge mixed in it.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to get angry. It was just a question, Joe. Not asking to read your diary,” she said, angry suddenly. How long had she known him? How long had she been taking care of Shane? Talk about trust issues, she thought, turning to look out the window.

“Sorry,” he said after a minute, touching her on her arm. “It was a hard period for me and one I don’t like to revisit if I can help it. But, to answer your question, my sister has left him twice—once when he was younger, and again two years ago, which is why I have Shane with me now.” His words were still on the curt side, like he was being tortured, raked over the coals for that bit of information. He went back to staring at the space in front of her car. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Sure.” She could do clipped, too. Her eyes returned to the view outside her window. She looked down at her watch. “The bell’s about to ring. We’d better head in,” she said, opening her car door and stepping out. He watched her, noting her anger. He was frustrated with himself, and with her for asking those questions.

* * *

Later on that night, Joe called Piper. He didn’t owe her any apology that he could see, but he wanted to offer one anyway. She had been good to and for Shane, had been good to and for him, and he’d acted today like she’d wanted the key to his heart or something larger when all she’d asked were questions regarding Shane. He’d clammed up. It’s what he did when he was probed. He hated being probed, so maybe he’d gotten a little bit short with her.

She’d just asked a simple personal question, something anyone would want to know, especially if they were responsible for the care of that person.

“Hello,” she answered in a cool voice.

“Hey,” he replied, pausing for a second. “So, in case you’re angry at me, I wanted to apologize to you for today. I don’t talk about Shane much, but I’d be willing to for you if you have any more questions that you’d like to have answered.”

“Now?” she said.

“Now.”

It was quiet on the phone for a few moments. “Nope, I’m okay. I know how much you value your privacy Joe. I just thought we were becoming friends and I know you’ve noticed I’ve been telling you my life story. You probably know more than you want to know about me,” she said, laughing, hoping to lighten the moment. Silence still reigned. “I kind of hoped you’d feel comfortable enough to tell me yours at some point.”

Silence again.

“It’s okay, though, it’s your business. I’m okay with that. You don’t need to tell me anything. Just promise to tell me if there’s anything I need to know for Shane’s safety and protection. The rest you can keep to yourself,” she said, a little hurt. It was quiet for another minute.

“It works better for me this way, Piper. I’ve found that it’s just better to keep personal things to myself. I’m sorry if that offends you. It’s not my intention to hurt your feelings.”

“No problem,” she said, and it was quiet again.

“So we’re good?”

“Yes, we are good,” she said, working to make her voice sound upbeat.

“You’ve got Shane tomorrow?”

“Yes, I do.”

“See you then,” he said.

“Yep. See you then,” she replied and hung up.

* * *

Third week in November

Later on that week Piper walked into the front doors of the school headed in the direction of Kennedy’s classroom. She had gotten here early at the request of Mrs. Samson, Ken’s teacher, who wanted to talk to her about something.

She usually made the right to Kennedy’s class without thinking, but today she glanced left and saw Shane standing outside in the hall, his face a mask of contrition as Mr. Marshall was speaking to him. About what? she wondered. She stood there, partially out of view, and waited until he and Mr. Marshall were finished and they re-entered the classroom.

Okay, I wonder what was going on with that?

Pressed for time, she turned and continued on her way to Ken’s classroom, hoping it wouldn’t take long.

Twenty minutes later—longer than Piper had anticipated—she was free and she and Kennedy were making their way toward the front office. She debated whether or not to seek out Mr. Marshall to find out what happened with Shane. He wasn’t her child, but she wanted to know and didn’t want to wait for Joe to tell her, either. She was not in the mood for tight-lipped Joe today.

Lucky for her—and proof that the stars aligned sometimes—Mr. Marshall was headed toward the front of the school, same as she. He looked up and caught her eye. She smiled.

“Ms. Knight, do you have a moment?” he asked, stepping over to one side of the hall.

“I do,” she said, coming to stand next to him. “Ken, will you wait for me by the couch?”

“Sure,” Ken replied and walked away, stopping to talk with some other child, apparently always happy to talk to her friends.

“I just spoke with Shane. He’s been bothered by one of the newer students in another class. He exchanged words with the student. They were having difficulty communicating. I was listening to his side of things earlier. I saw you standing there,” he said gravely. “I also know that you’re close to his uncle. Taylor and Shane are good friends and I understand that you’re responsible for Shane sometimes.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I left Joe a message to call me tonight. I wanted to talk to him about it. Would you remind him? He’s busy, I know, but make sure he returns my call tonight,” he said.

“Sure,” Piper responded, and tracked his departure as he turned and walked back toward his classroom.

She and Ken did their normal wait for Shane-and-Taylor drill, and they all headed back to the coffee shop. Piper found out the details of what happened to Shane as she listened to Taylor drill Shane about what happened today between him and the new kid.

About an hour later Piper walked into the kitchen at her shop, groaning at the stack of boxes she encountered. A delivery was waiting for her to dispose of. She left Shane and Taylor in her office on her computer, working on some paper or project they’d been assigned. It was due in two weeks, they’d told her. Ken was in her office, too, sprawled on the couch, killing two birds with one stone—completing her homework and keeping an eye on Shane, still her number one crush.

* * *

Joe entered the shop near six, which was early for him. He looked around the shop for Piper and the kids.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Estelle said, smiling at him. She always gave him that I’ve got a secret smile, which always left him wondering if he’d missed something.

“Hello, Estelle,” he said, passing by her on his way to the kitchen.

“You’re early,” Piper said, glancing back at him from her place near the door of her storage closet. He walked over to stand in the doorway. She was on the floor, on her knees, stacking paper towel rolls on the bottom shelf.

“Delivery today. Putting away supplies,” she said. He could tell; several dismantled boxes lay in a stack nearby.

“My lucky day, I guess,” he said, looking at her as she bent over, admiring the view. Jesus, she was something. “This is a good look for you,” he said, laughing.

“Cut it out,” she replied and threw a roll of paper towels his way, which he caught smoothly.

She hadn’t changed her behavior around him. He’d worried for nothing after their discussion about Shane’s mother the other night. He thought maybe she might have called it quits and told him to find someone other than her to take care of Shane; at the very least, he expected her to be distant. But nope, it was Piper as usual, back in her normal form.

“I want to talk to you about something,” she said, getting up off the floor, pushing him out of her way as she marched past him out of the storage room and into the kitchen. She made her way over to close the door leading from the kitchen to the shop, peeking out first to make sure it was free of children. She walked back over to him, stopping right in front, now all up close and personal with him, her eyes at his nose level. She looked up, serious. He looked back, serious too, after watching her secure the door like they were expecting big trouble.

“What?” he asked.

“Mr. Marshall wants you to call him about Shane. I saw him out in the hall today after school talking to Shane. He says a kid at school was giving Shane trouble. Taylor says it’s more like being bullied. I did a little information-gathering on my own. What are you going to do about it?” she asked.

“Do about what?”

“About Shane being bullied?”

“Call Mr. Marshall, like he requested,” he answered, gazing at her now, arms crossed at her chest.

“That’s it?” she said. “Talk to the teacher is all you’re going to do?”

“Talk to the parents…” he said, looking at her sideways, trying to figure out what she wanted him to say “Talk to the principal?” Apparently, talking to the parents was not the answer she’d been looking for either.

She stood before him, arms crossed again, one foot tapping a new and lively tune. He looked down at her foot, in that boot, tapping away. He was either really sick or really, really needed to get laid because that was working for him, his body was responding to her foot in that boot. It was sad that it took so little to move him.