to come over to their homes. He won’t even ride his bike anymore, and he rarely plays outside. Basically, he either plays by himself, reads a book or watches TV.”
She broke off, her eyes wearing a look of torture that Carlo longed to erase. Though he dreaded the answer, he knew the question was one he had to ask.
“How long has he been like this?”
“Since his father’s death. He’s seeing a grief counselor, but so far she hasn’t made much progress. Ditto a whole host of specialists I’ve taken him to. He…he has nightmares.”
She couldn’t know the impact her words were having on him. Each was like a single bullet, and they were fired with the deadly accuracy of the bullets that had filled the air on the awful day that James Underwood died.
“What is the favor you have to ask of me?” he said.
“After I confided in him, Mayor Boyer told me about the program you and he were involved in. He suggested I call you.”
“The Buddy System,” Carlo muttered dully.
“Yes.”
Patterned after Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America, the goal of The Buddy System was to match local children from single-parent homes with an older buddy of the appropriate sex. The program was the mayor’s baby, part of a community-oriented project he was heavily promoting in the year before his reelection. Carlo had agreed to oversee the project’s operations under duress, Douglas Boyer having twisted his arm a time or ten.
“So you want me to match Jeffrey with a buddy when the program is formally introduced a few months from now.”
“Not exactly.” Her big brown eyes bored into him, making him wonder if she could see into the darkest recesses of his soul, to the guilt that ate away at him like a cancer. “I want you to be Jeffrey’s buddy.”
Shock momentarily robbed him of the ability to speak. “Me?” he finally asked, blinking at her.
“Yes. Mayor Boyer seemed to think you would be the perfect buddy for my son. Especially now, since you’ve taken a leave of absence and have some time on your hands.”
Carlo had had to give the mayor some kind of excuse for his sudden request. He couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said, although he thought he’d muttered something about coming back to work too soon and needing more time to regroup.
Had the mayor seen through Carlo’s excuses to the underlying truth? The man was quite perceptive. Carlo couldn’t stem the thought that, by sending Samantha Underwood to him, Douglas Boyer was playing amateur psychologist.
If so, it was a dangerous game.
Carlo couldn’t help Jeffrey. He could barely take care of himself. How could he possibly be expected to act as a buddy to an eight-year-old boy? Besides, he couldn’t give the child the one thing he needed and wanted most: his father. If Jeffrey’s grief counselor hadn’t been able to help, surely Carlo wouldn’t be able to do any better.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Underwood,” he said as gently as he could. “I’m afraid I can’t be Jeffrey’s buddy. But I will promise to match Jeffrey with the most suitable buddy once the program is in place.”
Her face fell, and her voice was a whisper of pain. “I don’t think Jeffrey can wait that long.”
Her disappointment, and her obvious anguish, were almost too much for Carlo to bear. Harder yet to bear was that she had come to him, hat in hand, asking for his help. And he was letting her down. The way he’d let James Underwood down a year earlier.
“Why does it have to be me?” he asked, hearing the note of desperation in his voice. “Why not someone else on the force? I could give you the names of several men, all of whom would be more than qualified to do the job.”
“James respected you more than any other man he knew,” she told him. “He often spoke to Jeffrey about you. Although he hasn’t met you, Jeffrey knows who you are. You wouldn’t be a total stranger to him. Besides, I need someone who can help now. With Thanksgiving coming in a couple of weeks, and Christmas so soon after, I don’t think too many people will have the time to devote to Jeffrey that he needs. Especially if they have families of their own.”
“And I have the time,” Carlo murmured.
“Yes,” she agreed. “You do.”
It felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on him. “What about an uncle or a grandfather? Wouldn’t a relative be a better choice to spend time with Jeffrey?”
She gave him a sad smile. “Ideally, yes. Unfortunately, there are no uncles. For the most part, we’re a family of women. Jeffrey’s only surviving grandfather lives in Des Moines, and he’s not in good health. That leaves you, Chief Garibaldi.”
The walls closed in on him tighter, making it hard for him to breathe.
Samantha Underwood’s eyes pleaded with him. “I know I’m asking a lot. Too much, probably. But if you could see your way clear to helping Jeffrey, I’d be forever in your debt.”
That was it, then, he realized dully. He had no choice. Because the question had changed from could he do this to did he have the right to refuse Samantha Underwood’s request. And the answer was that he didn’t. He had to at least give being Jeffrey’s buddy his best shot. Because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try.
Carlo couldn’t help thinking—wishing?—that, if he was able to help the child, it would quiet some of his own demons. Leaving his job certainly hadn’t accomplished that task. Cleaning his house hadn’t. Neither had carving endless quantities of wooden figures. Maybe, if he could somehow reach Jeffrey Underwood, draw the boy out, he’d be able to come to terms with the past, which would in turn help him to come to some sort of decision about his future.
On the heels of that hopeful thought came doubt. What if he blew it? Because of him, Jeffrey Underwood didn’t have a father. Because of him, Jeffrey’s mother had been reduced to the point of begging so that the boy could have a male influence in his life. What if Carlo tried to help and only succeeded in making matters worse? Samantha Underwood had already lost her husband because of his incompetence. Could he bear it if she lost her son, too?
“Will you help me, Chief Garibaldi?” she asked again. “Will you help me help my son?”
Swallowing hard, he looked away from her hopeful face and tried to regain control of his emotions. Would it really be so hard? All he had to do was entertain the boy for a few hours each week. Having practically raised his four younger brothers, the youngest of whom had been more than a handful, Carlo felt fairly confident he could at least accomplish that task.
Returning his attention to the woman sitting across from him, he said, “Yes, Mrs. Underwood, I’ll help you. Until the program is up and running, and I can find someone else, I’ll be Jeffrey’s buddy.”
The smile she aimed at him as she surged to her feet transformed what had been a lovely face into one that was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Endless seconds passed as he stared at her, unable to summon the power to do anything else. For a moment he even thought she was going to reach out to him, to wrap her arms around him, and his heart thundered in anticipation.
When he came to his senses, self-reproach left a bitter taste in his mouth. What had he been thinking? That she was going to embrace him? And, if she had, would he have ruined what surely would have been a gesture of gratitude by covering her mouth with his own?
Lord, he had to be the biggest fool in town. If ever there was a woman who was off-limits, it was Samantha Underwood. Because if he ever told her the truth, she would never smile at him again.
“I can’t thank you enough, Chief Garibaldi,” she said. “You’ve taken such a weight off my mind.”
Carlo didn’t want her thanks. What he did want was for her to go, so he could think clearly again.
When