Sweet Fix Page 11

  The policeman on the other side of the counter explains that I’ll be summoned to appear in court. I can expect a certified letter. The judge will tell me what charges, if any, will be pressed. The judge will also make a ruling about my immigration status.

  “Immigration status? But…I have a green card.”

  The officer shrugs. “For now.”

  Everybody watches me, or that’s what it feels like. Trig moves closer. He sets his hand on my shoulder.

  “Thank you, officer,” he says.

  The next thing I know, I’m whisked out of the police station. Trig keeps his hand on me, guiding me across the street to his truck. Dazed and bewildered, I huddle in the back seat and replay the policeman’s words. Trig drapes his jacket over me.

  We drive home in silence. Wes says nothing but Trig, driving the truck, glances back to me, his eyes searching mine. I can’t stand how Wes won’t give me a word of encouragement, but what’s worse is the sympathy in Trig’s eyes. I don’t want him to try and console me. It’s like both of them assume I’m guilty.

  When we get home, Jane meets me at the door. Her eyes are bloodshot.

  “I didn’t tell the boys.”

  “Great. Thanks.” There’s some consolation. I mostly worry about Michael finding out I was incarcerated. He seems to think I’m capable and smart and maybe even sort of awesome. I really hate to disappoint him.

  Without another word, I go to the bathroom, strip the clothes I’ve worn since the evening before and step into the shower. The hot water scalds my skin. My intention was to rinse away the way the jail cell made me feel. Dirty. Unwanted. Shameful.

  After a long while, the hot water starts to cool because I’ve been in the shower so long, I’ve used up all the hot water. I step out, dry off and slather cream over my skin. Gwen brought me a jar of Grapefruit Infused Hydration. I’d held off opening it, but something about spending the night in jail makes girly things feel that much more wonderful. When I’m done, I wrap a robe around myself.

  I open the door and almost faint to see Trig standing in the doorway. He grips the door frame above me and the stance makes him look huge. He lets his gaze drift down and the corner of his mouth quirks.

  “The aquifer called,” he says. “It wants you to quit being a baby and get the fuck out of the shower.”

  He’s deliberately giving me shit. It helps. So much. Right now, I don’t want a lecture or some pep talk. I’m not sure what I want, but I don’t want Wes or Jane’s over the top optimism. I just need this. I step closer and rest my forehead against his chest. A rumble rolls across his chest as he gathers me in his arms. My mind goes back to the night when he pulled me to the bed and wrapped his arms around me.

  “All night, I worried about losing my scholarship,” I whisper.

  “I have money.”

  His voice rumbles in his chest. Closing my eyes, I push away the waves of shame and helplessness.

  “You keep bailing me out. Literally.”

  He strokes my back. Normally I hate sympathy, but not now. I lap up anything he offers even if I’ll hate myself later.

  “It’s just money. I don’t care about it. If I could have taken your place last night, I would have.”

  Well, isn’t that romantic.

  He goes on. “I want what you want and if you like school, then I’m going to do what I can to make it happen for you. I’ll pay your tuition. For you, I’ll always do whatever it takes.”

  A lump sticks in my throat and I try to swallow it down. I wish he’d go back to teasing me or giving me hell for something. The gruff tenderness in his voice is too much. I revel in his arms. I want to stay there forever. It takes a few moments for me to be able to say anything.

  “I might not even be able to stay in this country, Trig. They can kick me out if they want. And if they think I’m trouble-”

  “Stop.” He tightens his arms around me. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. Me, Wes and Jane. We’re your family, right?”

  I can’t stop shivering even though the heat from his body warms me. If anything, I’m shivering more. Silently, I plea for him not to let me go. He’s all I want. My life is a mess, but he’s all I want, because I’m an expert at wanting things I can never have. It’s my superpower.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Trig

  Monday I get a text from Wes, asking me to come to the baseball fields that evening. Michael’s team is practicing. I assume he needs an extra person to help run things. Maybe the assistant coach couldn’t make it. When I walk up to the field, I can tell right off, my brother doesn’t want me helping. He’s pissed. At me.

  He meets me in the outfield.

  “Something I need to know about, between you and Maggie?” He bristles with rage. Wes almost never gets mad, so it takes me a moment to reply.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “One of the boys saw you holding her, hugging her yesterday morning.”

  I already carry a lot of guilt for my feelings for Maggie, even though I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve treated her the best I could, trying to keep her from wrecking her life. The girl was on her way to fucking Vegas last year. I’d like to point that out to Wes, but I won’t. I don’t want him asking Maggie about the details. If he knew he’d probably think worse of me.

  A cold wind blows out of the north and Wes hunches his back and shoves his hands in his pockets. I’m too irritated to feel the cold. I clench my hands, curling them into fists, reminding myself I can’t hit Wes. Not because he’s smaller than me, and not because he’s my brother, but because I don’t want the team to see their coach get his ass handed to him.

  “She was upset. I hugged her. That’s all. There’s nothing going on. Jesus, Wes, she’s just a kid.”

  He blinks and I can practically see the wheels spinning as he’s trying to work out what he thinks. “There’s nothing more important to me than these kids. I take an oath to protect them. Both me and Jane do.”

  An oath? I don’t really know what he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not a danger to Maggie. He doesn’t need to protect her from me.

  Michael jogs across the field, waving his mitt. “Hey Uncle Trig, can I pitch to you?”

  “He’s not staying. Go ask one of the boys.” Wes snaps at him and Michael’s eyes widen with surprise. Wes and Jane never raise their voices with the boys, or speak roughly to them.

  “Okay,” Michael says.

  “Next time, buddy,” I call to him as he jogs back to the infield.

  Wes watches him return to the team and then turns back to me, his expression softened somewhat. “Maggie’s fragile. Fragile-strong, if that makes sense.”

  Fragile-strong. That sums her up perfectly.

  “I know. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her or lead her astray. I care about her too.”

  Wes thins his lips and the hostile look returns to his features.

  “Yesterday, I told her that me and you and Jane, we’re her family. We’ll help her with whatever she needs. She was worried about her scholarship. I told her I’d pay her tuition, and that I want what she wants.”

  My words sound pretty heroic to my ears and I can see that they have an effect on my brother. He nods, but doesn’t reply because he’s still weighing my words. I meant everything I said yesterday. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Maggie, because I’m in love with her. Probably won’t bring that up today, but one day I just might.

  Wes looks off to a distant point on the horizon and draws a heavy breath. “Jane and I had to go to a series of classes for foster parents with teenaged girls.”

  “Yeah, I remember something about that.”

  “They told us that some of the girls come to the program…” His words fade and he lifts his hands to air quote his next words. “With a past.”

  My gut clenches. Anytime Jane or Wes use air quotes it’s about something sexual. I’m not sure I want to hear more. “Did someone hurt her?”


  Wes shakes his head. “We don’t think so.”

  My thoughts spin. I can’t think of anyone harming Maggie without feeling sick to my stomach. “You haven’t asked her?”

  “You can’t just come out and ask a question like that. Besides, she might not even remember. Kids repress memories like that out of self-preservation.”

  I’ll admit I know nothing about psychology. Nothing. A primitive part of my brain springs to life, snarling and raging. All I want to do is find her and demand to know if anyone hurt her. If she had, I’d hunt down the motherfucker and kill him. Slowly.

  All day I’ve been thinking about Maggie’s situation. Theft. Possible deportation. I’ve never imagined all the things she might have gone through before she came to live with Wes and Jane.

  “I think someone should ask her,” I manage to say.

  Wes shakes his head. “The counselor said she wouldn’t tell us and that it might only come up when she entered a relationship. That if she shared it with someone it might be her boyfriend. Or whatever.”

  Talking about this has Wes more upset than I’ve seen him in a long time. I’m ready to lose it right here. All I can think of is hurting someone right now.

  Wes goes on. “Even if she hasn’t had anything untoward happen, she’s too good for you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I always felt sorry for your girl-friends.”

  “What girl-friends?” I snap.

  “Exactly. You just take women to bed for a night. Maybe two. Maggie deserves better. Not to mention you’re ten years older.”

  I can’t really say much to defend myself. He’s right. About everything.

  “Trig, you’ve got to think about how this would make me look. If you two were to start something, it would make me look like I hadn’t done my job.”

  Wes has always cared about how people view him. I could give two fucks how people see me, but I do care about Maggie. More than anything else.

  “I gotta get back to practice,” Wes says.

  “Right.”

  Without a word, I turn and walk back to my truck. Away from the playing field, I unleash my fury on the side panel, driving my fist into the metal. The blow leaves a dent and makes my knuckles bleed. Blood drips down my hand onto my jeans as I drive home. The sun is setting by the time I get home. Sitting in my parked truck I stare at my phone, fighting the urge to call her. I toss it aside. I can’t fix everything for her and there’s a chance I’ll make matters worse.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Maggie

  Since Jane has her sister in town, she asks me to help with picking the boys up from school. I welcome the chance. Ever since I was released four days ago, I’ve obsessed with what might happen. First thing Monday morning, I visited my advisor. She assured me the scholarship would not be revoked.

  Still, I worry about the Green Card. I’ve had one my whole life and right now it’s sitting on the police chief’s desk. At least I hope that’s where it is. Gwen told me not to worry so much.

  I pick the boys up and take them for ice cream. Their wild rambunctiousness relaxes me. Weird, but true. The sugar makes them loud, and happy and they crack me up with silly stories from school. Then Thomas complains Wes won’t let him have a dog. Michael frets about missing a catch at a game last week. Hearing about their lives and worries helps me forget about my troubles. By the time I pull into the driveway, I feel a thousand times better.

  The boys spill out of the van and we head inside, just as a sedan pulls into the driveway.

  “Who’s that?” Thomas asks.

  “I don’t know,” I tell him.

  Two men get out. They’re thirty or so, clean-shaven and dressed in suit and tie. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

  “Maggie Callaghan?”

  They approach the house, stopping a dozen or so steps from me.

  “Go inside,” I tell the boys.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions. We’re from the Department of Homeland Security.”

  I hear the boys go inside. Only Michael remains, stepping closer to me, like he’s going to protect me from these guys. His fingers lace through mine.

  “We understand you were caught shoplifting.”

  “No she wasn’t,” Michael blurts out.

  I squeeze his hand, keeping my gaze on the men. “It was a mistake. My… aunt is going to ask them to drop the charges.”

  Only one of the guys is talking, the other one is there just to give me the stink eye. All I can think of is that I’m home alone with the monkeys. If they arrest me, I’ll leave them unsupervised. I promised I’d watch them. They can’t arrest me. Not again, surely.

  On Saturday night, the policeman didn’t cuff me, thankfully. If these men decide to take me where ever they take people, I’m praying I don’t get taken in cuffs. Not in front of the boys. I don’t want them to see me like that.

  “You understand being charged with a misdemeanor endangers your immigration status?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “You’re not allowed to be here.” Michael’s voice is an octave higher than normal.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. I’m not sure how this is going to play out, but I don’t want Michael getting in the middle of things.

  “You’re going to have to appear before a judge and plead your case.”

  His words make me wonder if Gwen knows about this and that’s why she’s in town. She showed up Sunday afternoon and she and Wes and Jane have been talking a lot. Do they know about all this? If so, why wouldn’t they tell me?

  “You should know the judge might revoke immigration privileges. In which case, you’d be sent back to Ireland.”

  A huff of air escapes Michael’s lips. “I think you need to leave,” he says, in a let’s-be-reasonable tone.

  Both men ignore him. “People who come to the United States need to respect our laws.”

  I’ll admit I haven’t always been the best-behaved person around, but I’m not some sort of career criminal. The way they’re looking at me makes me feel like I’m a low-life. Everything inside me wants to lash out, but I have to hold it together. I’ve got to keep my cool.

  “I understand and agree, but I thought your laws viewed people as innocent until proven guilty.”

  The man smiles. “That right is for citizens only.”

  Well… shit. I didn’t know that. The look on my face probably telegraphs that thought because both men smirk. My eyes feel warm, like I might start crying. Ireland. I always wanted to visit, but on vacation. Not because I got the big middle finger from the U.S. I can’t leave and go someplace where I know nobody. A completely new fucking country. I’d be a stranger all over again, just when I was figuring things out here.

  Distantly, I hear sirens. The screech comes from police cars and I can tell they’re in the neighborhood. They draw closer.

  “You should get your affairs in order,” the man says.

  Jesus. Isn’t that what people say when you have some sort of terminal illness? I fight the urge to throw every expletive I know out there. Fuck them and the horse they rode in on. If Michael wasn’t here I’d tell them exactly what I thought of them and their threats and stupid fear tactics. Going down in a blaze of glory is familiar and a weird comfort, but I can’t do that. Not in front of the Michael.

  The sirens split the late afternoon air and I wonder what the hell is going on in this quiet, boring neighborhood. I’m trying to figure out the answer to the question when two police cars pull up in front of the house. Two officers jump out of each car and storm the suits.

  Behind me, the door opens and Thomas comes to my side. “I called 911.”

  Great. This is my life. Five-year olds rescuing me by calling 911. Just perfect. The only thing that helps is the look on the agents’ faces. They’re not used to the po-po arriving to give them shit. I’d laugh if I could, but right now I’m mostly trying not to panic. Everything spins and I’m taken back to the day in ninth gra
de when the school counselor tells me my mother collapsed at school. Bad things always happen fast it seems. Boom.

  The police officers start asking the men for ID and documentation. Their voices raise and I wonder if I should shoo Michael and Thomas back inside before things escalate. I don’t want the boys to see any of this, but I really don’t want them to witness something getting ugly.

  Just as I’m about to make them go inside, Jane and Gwen get home. Jane’s car has barely come to a stop and Gwen jumps out, in full-battle-mode. It’s like she knows exactly what’s going down.

  She stalks right up to the guys from Immigration. “Gentlemen, you’re trespassing.”

  They both shake their heads and back up. The police officers stand by, waiting to see how or if to intervene.

  “Miss Callaghan needs to appear in court.”

  “I’m her lawyer. She’s aware of her obligations.”

  “We think she’s a flight risk.”

  “She wouldn’t have taken on a lawyer if she were a flight risk.”

  “If she fails to appear in court, the judge will be very anxious to talk you.”

  Gwen whips out a business card and tucks it in the agent’s breast pocket. “That won’t be a problem. If you need to discuss my client’s case, you’ll speak directly to me.”

  It’s impressive how quickly Gwen sends everyone on their way. The cruisers leave first and then the two agents disappear down the street. Standing on the porch, I try to get my heartrate back to normal. Gwen comes up the walkway and stops in front of me, her brow furrowed.

  “We might have a little bit of a problem,” she says.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Trig

  I vowed to stay away from Wes and Jane’s home. No dinners. No playing ball with the boys and definitely no Maggie. As much as Wes pissed me off, he was right. Maggie was fragile. She needed to move past the charges against her and get on with her life. A life that didn’t include me.

  So when Jane texted me, inviting me to come eat with them that evening, I turned her down. I was closing the shop, getting ready to head home. I texted her two simple words. Sorry. Busy.