Evergreen (7 page)

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. That’s awesome, man. Thanks.” He extended a hand to John, but the handshake felt weak, fast. “I’ll talk to the school, see when the next GED test is.”

He took off for the house, leaving John in the muddied snow.

Inside, the house smelled like gingerbread, thanks to the candle Ingrid had lit on the kitchen counter. He toed off his boots, drawn by the sounds of football and laughter in the den. Darek had pulled Tiger onto his lap, and Ivy was curled up beside them as they listened to the pregame show.

Romeo sat on the floor, petting Butter, the dog’s head on his lap. He tousled her ear as if it were an old habit.

“Where’s your aunt?”

Romeo shrugged.

“I think she’s upstairs? Or maybe in the basement? I dunno,” Ivy said. She laid her head on Darek’s shoulder, closed her eyes.

John glanced at the time
 
—five minutes to kickoff
 
—and headed upstairs.

She wasn’t in their bedroom, so he descended the stairs to the finished basement. Or partially finished. They’d thrown down a remnant carpet, painted the cinderblock walls, and stored their old furniture. The kids had used it for years as a gaming/television room, and it smelled moist and clammy.

He noticed a light streaming from the storage area near the furnace room. “Ingrid?”

Nothing. He walked closer and poked his head in.

She sat on a box, another open at her feet, a pile of red-and-white felt in her hands.

“What’s going on?”

She took a breath that sounded tremulous. And when she looked up, forcing a smile, he’d have to be an idiot not to notice she’d been crying.

“Honey?” He came in, knelt in front of her.

She wiped the moisture from her face. “It’s nothing. Silly, really. I’m fine.”

He touched her hand. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just miss the kids.” She stood. “I think I’ll box up a few of Grace’s and Eden’s ornaments and send them down to the girls so they have some for their Christmas celebrations. And Darek will need his for his tree.”

“I’m sure they’d like that. . . .”

Reaching into the box, she pulled out an open craft kit stuffed with thread and felt and sequins. She inserted the felt into the kit, then held on to it as she closed the box and shoved it back under the shelf.

“What’s that?” He gestured to the kit.

“Just an old stocking kit. I thought I’d finish making it for Romeo.”

“Ingrid
 
—”

She held up her hand. “For him to take with him, John. I know he’ll be leaving, but you heard him
 
—the boy never had a stocking of his own. Everyone needs to have their own stocking. It’s a reminder that they’re loved.” She pushed past him. “Isn’t the game starting soon?”

“Yeah . . .” But he didn’t follow her. Instead, he leaned down and looked at the box, examining the scribbling on the outside that labeled it.

He heard his wife’s step on the stairs as she went to join the family. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

He had no words, just the swish of his heart in his ears.

For Benjamin.

I
NGRID COULDN’T EXACTLY
put her finger on it, but somehow, over the past week, a switch had flipped in Romeo.

He’d gone from being the charmer to the boy she’d expected
 
—aloof, angry . . . trouble. He no longer greeted her when he came home and had even shut Butter out of his room. Ingrid had found the dog sleeping in the hallway outside his door the last two nights.

Lifting a shoulder to hold the phone against her ear, she opened the oven and pulled out a tray of chocolate chip cookies. A birthday treat that she hoped might shake him out of his funk. Outside, the weather had turned pale and bleak, the temperatures dropping. Trick-or-treaters would show up in parkas
 
—if they made the trek to the
resort at all. Usually she left the lights off and went to town to celebrate at the community party.

Tonight, however, they’d have a party here.

A full-out jamboree, if she could end this call with a holy family lined up for the live Nativity. Jason and Nicole Backlund would be perfect for Mary and Joseph, and their eight-month-old would make an adorable baby Jesus. “I know it’ll be cold, but you can wear warm clothes under your costumes, and little Neil will be all toasty in his snowsuit
 
—”

“I don’t think so, Mrs. Christiansen. Jason’s family has their annual Christmas Eve party, and we haven’t attended the live Nativity in years.”

Right. “Okay, thank you.” She hung up and crossed the Backlunds off her very short list.

She set the cookies to cool and headed to the entry, grabbing her jacket, her UGGs. The phone rang just as she retrieved her keys. She picked it up in case it was John.

“Ingrid, hey, it’s Seb. I wanted to talk to John about Romeo.”

“John’s in town, and I’m just headed out to pick up Romeo from practice.”

“That’s the thing. . . . Uh, Romeo wasn’t at practice today.”

She sat down on the bench. “What?”

“I didn’t want to mention this, but he wasn’t at practice yesterday either. And he showed up late two days before that. I haven’t talked to Coach Knight, but my guess is that he’s probably off the team.”

“No, Seb
 
—he’s worked so hard.”

“For a month, yeah. And frankly we could use him in the game tomorrow. But you can’t ditch the team and expect to show up and play.”

“Of course not. I’m just
 
—”

“Ingrid, is everything okay with him? Because at practice on Monday, I barely recognized him. He played angry, then picked a fight with another player, and I heard a string of words out of his mouth I had never heard him use. Is he okay?”

“Maybe he misses his mom. I’ll find him. Thanks, Seb.”

She hung up and closed the door behind her. What could Romeo be thinking? And if John discovered he’d missed practice . . .

Just in case he’d returned to the school, she went there first. The school was dark, so she drove down to Licks and Stuff, searched for him through the windows, then headed over to the Java Cup. How many places could a kid hang out after school in a town this size?

Maybe he’d gone to the community Halloween party?
She parked outside the community center, walked in, and stood for a moment, swept back to the days when her children dressed as hoboes and Jedi and pirates. She jumped out of the way of two zombies and moved toward the cookie table.

No Romeo.

Ingrid walked back outside, a rock in her stomach.
Please, Lord.
She didn’t know when it had happened, but he felt like her own son, the worry for him as tangible as it might have been for Casper or Owen.

When her cell phone rang, she dug it out of her pocket.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m still in town. I thought I’d swing by the school and pick up Romeo.”

John. She took a breath. “Actually, I’m in town too. Um . . .”

“What’s the matter, Ingrid?”

Oh, why was it that when it came to the kids, he could read her mind? “Nothing
 
—”

“Tell me.” His tone turned solemn, and for a moment, they were once again, standing by Darek when he told them the news of his pregnant girlfriend, gathering at Owen’s side in the hospital when his career might be over, or even watching their two youngest sons brawl on Eden’s wedding day.

“He’s missing, John.”

Silence. Then, “Define
missing
.”

“He didn’t show up for practice today.” Or yesterday, but she didn’t want to add that.

“How many days has he missed?”

She sighed. “Two. But he’s been upset for a few days.”

“I’ll find him.”

“John
 
—”

“Ingrid, listen, I could have told you this kid was trouble.”

“That’s not fair. He was doing great and then something
 
—”

“He’s a time bomb waiting to go off. I’m surprised it took this long. You can’t blame him for being an emotional wreck just like his mother.”

“Well, maybe she wouldn’t be if someone actually cared. If someone stopped to listen instead of shutting the door in her face.” She didn’t mean to shout, wasn’t sure where the anger came from, but listening to Romeo’s stories and knowing they could have done something had seeded a growing ache inside her.

But maybe this fight wasn’t entirely about Romeo. Or his mother.

And that realization turned her silent, the wounds searing.

John’s voice was quiet. “I was trying to protect us. I did what I thought was best.”

Maybe he wasn’t talking about Kari either.

“I’m sure you did,” Ingrid said softly. “But the best thing for Romeo is for us to find him and care enough to listen.” She watched the waves turn the shore frothy.

“Let me just find him first. Where are you?”

“I’m in the
 
—”

He drove up beside her in his truck, cell phone to his ear.

She hung up.

He let his truck run, and they stared at each other through the windows.

Her phone rang again and she looked at the screen, frowning at the number for the vet clinic. “Kate?”

“Hey, Ingrid. Uh . . . I have a situation here, and I was hoping you could come down
 
—”

“What’s going on?”

John had gotten out of the truck.

“I caught Romeo breaking into my office today, and the police are here
 
—”

“We’ll be right there.”

Ingrid grimaced as she relayed the information to John, then followed him in her Caravan the two blocks to the vet’s office.

A cruiser, with lights flashing, was parked outside.

Oh, Romeo.

She got out and followed John in. Romeo sat, handcuffed, on a bench by the door. Shoulders slumped, head down, hands in his pockets, wearing just a thin sweatshirt. Ingrid made a note to dig up a warmer jacket for him. Kyle Hueston, their local deputy, was taking a statement from Kate, who gave Ingrid a pained glance.

“What happened?” John said, and to her eyes, Romeo paled at the sight of him. His expression made Ingrid want to cry. He looked thirteen, lost, even afraid.

“I’m not sure. Nothing is broken, but I heard the dogs barking in the back, and when I turned on the light, I found Romeo in the outside kennels,” Kate said.

“You broke into an animal shelter?” John said, his voice rising. Ingrid gripped his arm.

Romeo looked away, his jaw tight. “I just wanted to see the dogs.”

“Listen, I don’t want to press charges,” Kate said. “But
 
—”

“I have an idea,” Kyle said. “Maybe we could work something out. A work exchange?”

“Yeah, what if Romeo helped clean the kennels? Maybe assisted me with some of the dogs after school?”

“He has football,” John said, and Ingrid said nothing. “But he could donate his Saturdays.”

He turned to Romeo, who wore such a drained, almost-incredulous look that Ingrid wanted to put her arms around him. In a blink, his face closed up. He lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Okay, then. Saturday, 9 a.m.?” John said.

Romeo nodded, and Kyle uncuffed him.

“Thanks, Kate,” Ingrid said as she followed John and Romeo outside.

But John stopped him by the truck. “Romeo, you have some explaining to do. What’s going on?”

“Leave me alone. I want to see my mom.”

His words landed like a blow.

“You know she can’t see you right now,” Ingrid said.

“I don’t care. I . . . I don’t want to be here anymore.”

The words hollowed Ingrid out. She shoved her hands into her pockets, fighting the bite of the wind.

“You missed practice.” John stepped in front of him. “Listen, you don’t just start something, then quit. Your team needs you.”

Ingrid reached out, wanting to press her hand to John’s arm. Because in Romeo’s world, people
did
start things, only to quit.

And that’s when truth appeared in Romeo’s eyes. His voice turned sharp and raw. “I know you don’t want me around really, so what do you care if I play football or not?”

Ingrid wrapped her arms around her waist. “What are you talking about?”

But Romeo turned away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I do care if you play football,” John said quietly. “And we do want you around, Romeo. You’re our responsibility.”

Romeo didn’t look at him. “Not for long. I checked into the GED. I’m taking the test if you’re still signing the papers.”

Ingrid stilled. “What is he talking about, John?”

John ignored her. “That’s your decision, son. But until then, you have a couple of games left and a team you made promises to.” He put his hand on Romeo’s shoulder. “Let’s go talk to the coach and see if he’ll let you back on the team.”

Ingrid stared hard at John as he turned Romeo toward the truck. She wanted to make him stop, tell her what he’d done.

“I’ll see you at home, Ingrid,” he said.

“John!”

But they got into his truck, and Romeo shut the door, not looking at her as John drove out of the parking lot.

She stood there, watching him pull away, shivering as the cold twined through her body, the wind turning her brittle. She stiffened, forced a smile.

Even though, in the air, she could smell a winter storm brewing on the far-off horizon.

John had found himself again by the time he finished loading the dishwasher, scraping the remains of beef brisket into the sink, washing the Crock-Pot, and sweeping the floor.

The simple tasks helped him untie the knot in his chest, or at least breathe freely.

Whatever reason Ingrid had for keeping Romeo’s behavior a secret, he wanted to hear it. He’d be patient. And then he’d fix the jagged rift between them that seemed to have ripped open this afternoon.

If he hadn’t recognized signs of trouble when he left Ingrid at Kate’s office and marched Romeo over to Coach Knight’s house to apologize, he recognized it when he arrived home to find the table set, food on the stove, and a note on the counter indicating that she’d already eaten.

She left out a birthday card and a plate of cookies for
Romeo, who had stared at them as if he’d just taken a hit to the gut.

John served Romeo and himself, and they ate in strained silence. He hoped Romeo spent supper pondering his second chance.

Although he would have to sit out Friday’s game, he’d be allowed back for the play-offs if they won.

But Romeo had destroyed the fragile trust between them, and John informed the sullen kid that after football ended, he’d spend every afternoon helping to build Darek’s house. And Saturdays at the animal shelter, cleaning up after the dogs.

In fact, John intended to keep the kid in his sights until the moment his brother knocked on the door. He wouldn’t put it past Romeo to go AWOL, hitchhike his way to Duluth, and get murdered on the side of the road. Not on his watch, thank you.

Romeo had headed upstairs with his backpack full of homework immediately after supper. John noticed Butter following him, heard the door close upstairs.

Once he’d cleaned up and emptied the dustpan, he slipped on his boots and took the trash outside. The wind carried the sting of sleet, and it bit into his skin as he opened the gate to the trash area, dropped the bag into
the Dumpster. Overhead, a pitch-black sky blotted out the stars, and in the distance, a lonely wolf
 
—or perhaps one of the sled dogs from nearby camps
 
—howled in mourning.