He’d have to go to the grocery store to get food for tonight. As he poured milk into a glass, Dusty cried out. Rico made a dive for the bedroom.
Dusty sat up crying, holding on to Mickey.
“Hey, hey, little buddy, what’s wrong?”
“I want my grandma.”
Rico gathered him into his arms to comfort him and then carried him into the living room. Sitting in his recliner, Rico patted Dusty’s back. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Dusty wiped his face on Rico’s shirt and looked at him. Rico realized for the first time that the boy’s eyes were as dark as his.
“Where’s my grandma?”
“She’s in heaven.”
Dusty twisted his hands, thinking. “With Jesus?”
“Yes.”
“What she doing?”
Rico swallowed, trying to be patient. “She’s looking down at you and hoping you’re not sad. She wants you to be happy.”
Dusty buried his face against Rico’s chest.
To get the boy’s mind on something else, Rico said, “Are you hungry?”
“’Kay.”
Dusty ate a whole hot dog and drank a glass of milk. Rico also made Mickey a plate. Afterward Rico took Dusty back to the chair, trying to find a way to cheer him up.
“Were you scared walking around in the dark last night?”
“No.” Dusty shook his head. “I had Mickey. He’s a monster. He would protect me.”
Rico looked down at the sleeping dog that looked more like a timid rabbit. But it was what Dusty thought that mattered.
“What made you leave the house?”
“Mickey and me were hungry and we walked to the grocery store where Grandma gets food. It’s not far from our house and...I...I had my money in my pocket, but it was closed.” As he talked he twisted his hands and his eyes were dark and serious. “Then we went where we get all the good stuff...and...and...” He seemed to run out of words and rested his head on Rico’s chest once again. “Where’s my grandma?” he mumbled.
Rico rubbed his back. “I told you, buddy.”
“No!” Dusty’s eyes grew darker as he looked toward the windows and the sky. “I don’t mean there. I mean where is she now?”
Rico had no idea what he was talking about and was clueless about what to say. He wanted to console him and help him but his words were useless. Rubbing his back again, he said, “Tell me what you mean.”
“I have to say goodbye to Grandma.”
Rico searched for words once again. “Buddy...”
“When...when...” he twisted his hands in agitation “...when Mr. Kovar died, Grandma said we had to say goodbye. We...we...went to a place and Mr. Kovar was in a big box. Grandma lifted me up so I could say goodbye.” His bottom lip trembled. “I have to say goodbye to Grandma.”
Rico could do nothing but wrap his arms around the little boy who seemed more mature than a normal four-year-old. He didn’t understand what was happening. He just knew he had to say goodbye like his grandmother had taught him. Rico now wondered if he should take Dusty to the funeral home. Would it help him? Or would it traumatize him?
He needed a woman’s advice. He could call Miss Kate. She’d be more than willing to help, but another woman’s face was in his mind. Anamarie. She would know what to do and she could help Dusty with his grieving. But did he call her? Or just let her go?
Dusty slid from his lap. He pulled a tractor from the box and started pushing it around on the floor.
Rico reached for his phone in his pocket. He had her number. All he had to do was call. But it was a lot more complicated than that. His goal ever since he stepped out of a Huntsville prison was to live a quiet and peaceful life. If he called Anamarie, it would be anything but peaceful. Mrs. Wiznowski would make Anamarie’s life hell. And he would never do that to her. But then, there was Dusty, grieving, needing someone desperately. He shoved the phone back into his pocket just as a knock sounded at the door.
Dusty’s head jerked up.
“We’ve got company,” Rico said in as bright of a voice as he could manage. Bright wasn’t in his nature. It was probably Miss Kate or one of the Rebels. It might do Dusty good to see other people. He stepped over toys to get to the door and opened it.
Anamarie stood there.
Several strands of her blond hair had come loose from her topknot and curled around her flushed face. Her eyes were hesitant and filled with worry. He had never wanted to hurt her, but that’s exactly what had happened.
“May I come in?” Her anxiety showed in her voice and he had to be strong.
“I... I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“PLEASE, RICO. We need to talk.”
At the plea in her voice he opened the door wider.
“Ana.” When Dusty saw her, he ran to her and pointed to the toys. “Rico got toys.”
“I see,” she replied. “I didn’t know Rico still played with toys.”
Beneath his sun-browned skin she noticed a slight flush to his cheeks. She didn’t think it was possible to embarrass him.
He waved at the toys. “They’re for Egan’s kids. I keep them on date night.”
“Ah.” He loved kids. It was obvious by the handmade plywood toy box painted red and all the toys piled into it. Now it was going to be even harder to tell him what she needed to.
She sat on the sofa and Dusty placed a tractor in her lap. “See, you push this button and the tractor roars.” He pushed the button and tractor sounds filled the room. Dusty giggled.
“I see. That’s cool.” She handed him the toy and said, “Why don’t you play with it while I talk to Rico.”
“’Kay.”
As she followed Jericho to the kitchen area she looked around at his home. From the hardwood floors to the leather furniture, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, everything was pristine and clean. She knew that Paxton and Phoenix used to live here with him and it was definitely a bachelor pad, except for the toy box.
There were stools pulled up to a bar and a table in the center of the kitchen. She took a chair at the table, as did Rico. She wasn’t sure how to start the conversation, but she’d never had a problem talking to him before.
“You don’t believe I think the same way as my mother, do you?”
“No. I know you don’t, but my relationship with you causes problems within your family and I don’t want to cause you that kind of stress. It’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”
Her heart sank, but she wasn’t giving up. At her age, shyness and embarrassment shouldn’t affect her so much. She would be as bold and honest as possible. That was the only way they could have a good relationship.
“Why have you never asked me out on a date?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Because your mother wouldn’t like it and, again, I didn’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Well, I’m asking you to go with me on a date to a nice restaurant where I can eat food that I don’t have to cook. And we can talk freely and be with each other.”
“Anamarie—”