Janice Johnson - Between Love and Duty

He glanced at it, grimaced, then tossed it on the coffee table. So their hands wouldn’t brush again? Jane picked it up and inserted it in the folder.

“He’s a good kid,” he said finally.

“Despite his nocturnal activities.”

“According to him, his one-and-only adventure.” A quick grin did amazing things to his face. “I scared the crap out of him.”

Heart drumming, she thought, you scare me, too.

Unclipping the pen from her folder, she held it poised above the notepad. “Please give me your impressions of Tito.”

“I won’t betray his confidences.”

Their gazes clashed.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Although reluctant, he did talk. There were no great revelations here; if he was to be believed, Tito was a funny, smart boy who sometimes acted younger than his age as well as looked it.

“Hasn’t reached puberty,” she diagnosed.

MacLachlan nodded. “Definitely not. No sign of beard growth or a change in his voice. He sure isn’t adding any muscle.”

“I suppose puberty is as hard for boys as it is for girls.”

“It can be.” There was that faint, rueful tone again, the one that made him unexpectedly likable. “Not for the guy who is shaving by the time he’s in eighth grade and has all the moves on the girls. He’s not the one hoping no one notices him when he sneaks in and out of the shower after gym, or the one who’s trailing the pack on cross-country runs. The one shorter than all the girls.”

She chuckled. “That sounds personal.”

“No. It was my youngest brother. I suspect his lagging maturity contributed to him getting in trouble.”

“Trying to prove himself.”

He inclined his head. “The same way Tito was.”

“Did you tell him about your brother?”

MacLachlan shook his head. “We’re men. Men don’t talk about our bodies or how deep our voices are.”

She had to laugh. “Unless you’re taunting each other.”

Another flash of a grin came and went so fast she almost missed it. “Yeah. Unless.”

She bent her head and, in self-defense, concentrated quite hard on her notes. “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Captain MacLachlan?”

“Duncan.”

She looked up in surprise. “What?”

“You can call me Duncan.”

“Oh.” The name did suit him, sounding as gruff as the man. “Duncan.”

“What’s the next step?” he asked.

“I interview teachers, any of his other siblings, any other adults. Scout leaders, Boys & Girls Club employees and the like.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think he’s involved in anything like that. My impression is, he’s been forced to be a loner. His sister is too busy to push him into activities that might change that.”

“Perhaps their priest…”

“She does drag him to church.”

“Of course I’ll be sitting down with his father. And, naturally, Tito himself.” She hesitated. Maybe she didn’t have to say this, but she felt compelled, anyway. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss my visit with him. Or attempt to prejudice him in any way.”

“You mean, suggest he might be better living with someone besides his ex-con father.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

His face had returned to its earlier granite facade. “I think I can manage to keep my mouth shut, Ms. Brooks. Is the hearing date set?”

“Yes.” She told him when.

He nodded and rose to his feet. “If that’s all…?”

It was completely ridiculous to feel hurt because he was eager to get rid of her. Especially since she was relieved at the prospect of escape, too.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she said formally, although she’d scarcely taken a sip.

He didn’t bother with an insincere “You’re welcome.” All he did was walk her to the front door, say, “Ms. Brooks” and close the door firmly in her face.

Cheeks flushed again, this time with both humiliation and aggravation, Jane hurried to her car. Jerk, she thought, and refused to let herself remember those two astonishing grins.

WHEN SOMEONE HE DIDN’T KNOW wanted to talk to him like this, Tito knew it meant something bad was happening. After Mama went away and then Papa was arrested, lots of social workers came to talk to Tito and Lupe. Mostly they ignored Tito, though, even when they were supposedly asking him questions. He could tell that, in their eyes, he was only a little kid, so they didn’t care what he said.

This time it was because Papa would be getting out of that place soon. Tito knew his father thought Tito would be living with him. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Three years was a long time. He’d been so young the last time he lived with his father. He hated going down there, to the prison. Tito hadn’t admitted to Lupe how much he hated it. He always slumped in the chair and mumbled when Papa asked about school or friends or whether his sister was taking good care of him and feeding him enough. Tito could tell Papa thought she wasn’t, and that made him feel bad.

And now Lupe had taken him to the public library to meet with this Miss Brooks, who Lupe said had already come by the apartment to talk to her. Tito burned with resentment because Miss Brooks didn’t know anything but would be able to decide things about his life. It made him mad that she’d talked to his sister at least a week ago but not to him until now.

“Tito,” she said, when they went straight to the table in a quiet corner of the library where she had already been sitting. She gave him a big smile. He’d seen smiles like that before. He didn’t return it.

“Lupe, thank you,” she said. “Do you mind if I talk to Tito alone?”

This woman did speak Spanish, at least, he thought grudgingly. Lupe seemed to like her, but then she liked everyone except for that idioto, Raul, who lied every month and said he couldn’t find a job only so he didn’t have to pay child support. What kind of man did that make him? Not much of one. Tito worried that Lupe needed the money the state paid her to take care of him.

He sat down unhappily, across the table from the social worker woman, and his sister left them.

Miss Brooks said, “Tito, you can call me Jane. Would you rather speak in Spanish, or English?”

He shrugged and focused on the tabletop. Someone had written some bad words in ink. He rubbed a finger over them, and they smeared.

“Then let’s make it English,” she said, switching. “Since that’s what you have to speak at school.”

He shrugged again.

“You know your father will be released in two weeks.”

She waited and waited, until he finally mumbled, “Yes.”

She explained that the judge had asked her to talk to him and his family members and any adult friends—even his teachers—and recommend where she thought he should live.

“I know you’re used to living with your sister now,” she said, in a nice voice. “But she doesn’t have much room, and she works evenings. It would be better if you had someone who could spend more time with you.”

He did wish Lupe worked days instead. Tito didn’t like Señora Ruiz, the neighbor who came over evenings. She ignored him and mostly paid attention to the little kids.

“How do you feel about it?”

Tito looked up at last. “What do you care?”

Her eyes were soft. Kind. They were pretty, too, blue but not cold. More like a flower.

“I do care. I want what’s best for you, Tito. You don’t know me, and you have no reason to trust me, but you can. I promise. Te prometo.”

There was a lump in his throat. He struggled against it and finally nodded.

He still didn’t answer very many of her questions. He didn’t know if he wanted to live with his father! How could he know? And who else was there? Yes, he had a brother, Diego, but he was only twenty and worked the fields. He had dropped out of school early—not that much older than Tito was now. He never stayed in one place, and he didn’t have a wife. Tito saw him only every few months.