Justine Davis - Errant Angel

God, you’re tired when you start fantasizing like that, he muttered inwardly. You’ve got no business thinking about her at all, or any other woman for that matter. You’re out of that race, for good, and you’d damned well better remember that.

That’s what you get, he lectured himself, for letting that kid get close. You should have kept the walls up. Once you let one person in, they start dragging in others. Well, it wasn’t too late. He might have let the kid in, but he could throw him right back out again. So Jimmy’s got problems. Don’t we all? Let him deal with them. Nobody ever gave a damn about you, and you survived. He’d better learn to survive, too, because nobody was going to help him. And he’d better start learning now.

Dalton stood, rubbing at the scar on his temple, and feeling the ache in his right ankle where more metal than bone held the joint together. He welcomed the pain. It served as a reminder of why he was here, of what he had done. And it was only physical pain, a hell of a lot easier to stand than the other agony, the one that ripped at his insides like the jagged pieces of a race car had once ripped at his flesh.

He strode toward the bathroom, with each step forcing his right foot down harder, heightening the pain. He knew it was the only way to get past it, to work it out. It was also no more than he deserved.

And as he stood beneath the flow of steaming water, he found himself flexing the aching joint fiercely, hoping the ache would be enough to drive the memory of a pair of huge brown eyes out of his mind.

Evangeline smiled at the waitress as she accepted the mug of coffee. The small restaurant was less busy now as patrons hurried off to work, and since her first class wasn’t until nine, she decided she would take this chance to speak to the woman.

“You’re Mrs. Kirkland, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Weary blue eyes sparked with interest as the woman looked at her. “I’m Maggie. You’re Ms. Law, the new teacher, aren’t you?”

Evangeline nodded. “And I live across the street from you, I think.”

“At Lilah’s. Yes, I know. I’ve been meaning to come over and thank you.”

“Thank me?”

The woman nodded. “In the two years Jimmy Sawyer has lived with us, he’s been trouble from morning to night. Angry, bitter...we can’t seem to get through to him at all.”

“He is very angry,” Evangeline agreed.

“He sneaks out at night, to hang around with those awful friends of his, older kids, real troublemakers. Lord knows what kind of things they’re up to. I know they’re the ones who set that fire at the high school last year. I think Jimmy was with them, but he didn’t get caught. If he had, he could have wound up in juvenile hall.”

“He’s been through some tough times,” Evangeline said carefully.

“Yes, I know that. It’s awful, what that child has been through. That’s why Bob and I took him on. We have no kids of our own, and we thought...well, we wanted to help. You know, an older child, who probably would never get adopted. But we got more than we bargained for.”

A hopeful smile curved the woman’s mouth, brightening her weary expression for a moment. “But he hasn’t cut class since you came. And the other night he stayed home. He was actually reading a book. For your class, he said.”

Evangeline smiled. “I’m glad.”

“I’ve never seen him reading anything that didn’t have comics or cars in it.”

“Well, there’s a lot of wonderful art in comics, you know, and there’s nothing wrong with cars. They can be a very healthy hobby, compared to some.”

“I suppose,” Mrs. Kirkland said. “And I must say, it’s been a lot more peaceful at my house since Jimmy started hanging around that garage after school these past few weeks. He doesn’t see quite as much of those other boys, thank goodness. I’m not sure about that man, though.”

Evangeline went still. “Dalton MacKay?”

“Yes. He’s...strange.”

“Strange?”

“Oh, not like dangerous, but...unfriendly, I guess.”

“I got the impression he was more...detached,” Evangeline said neutrally.

Mrs. Kirkland considered that. “Yes, I suppose that fits. I mean, he’s lived here for over a year, but he’s not really part of the town. And that’s odd, in a small place like Three Oaks.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. But I imagine he has his reasons.”

“My husband says he was famous, a couple of years ago. Some kind of race car driver or something. I don’t follow that kind of thing, so I wouldn’t know. But I suppose that’s why Jimmy’s so fascinated with him.”

Or perhaps the boy just senses a brother under the skin, Evangeline thought as memories of those painful images came back to her.

“He’s a good mechanic though,” Mrs. Kirkland said. “He’s kept our poor old station wagon going long after the dealer in Santa Barbara said we should buy a new one. And he doesn’t gouge us with high prices, either. Barely charges for his labor, just parts. In fact, if he didn’t live in that old room over the garage, I don’t know how he’d get by.”

“He’s generous, then.”

Maggie looked puzzled for a moment. “Yes, in that way, I suppose you’re right. And we’re glad to have him, really. That old garage had been empty a long time before he came. It’s wonderful not to have to drive twenty miles to have work done, or pay to have your car towed.” She smiled slightly. “Mr. MacKay makes house calls. He doesn’t even seem to mind, no matter what time it is.”

He doesn’t care enough about anything to mind.

The instinctive knowledge leapt into her mind fully formed, making her wonder if the bosses had developed some new way of sending information. But they would hardly be sending her anything on Dalton MacKay, so she didn’t know where this was coming from.

It wasn’t until the woman had gone to serve a late customer that Evangeline realized that once again she’d been diverted, that when she’d meant to find out more about Jimmy, she’d wound up spending almost the entire time talking about Dalton MacKay.

* * *

“Jimmy? Can I see you for a minute after class?”

The boy turned red at the chorus of hoots and howls that met her request. But he stayed behind as the rest of the students filed out. They’d had a raucous day; their role-playing as the rebels and Tories of the American Revolution had been lively enough, but when she had stopped the debate and made everyone switch sides, things had nearly gotten out of hand because the two sides knew each other’s position well enough to attack with devastating accuracy.

It had taken her nearly the whole class period to get them to see they also knew each other’s position well enough to understand each other. In the end, she’d gotten her point across; knowledge was power, however you used it, and neither side was fully right or fully wrong.

“You didn’t seem to be with us today, Jimmy,” she said after the others had gone, hurrying now that classes were over for the day.

The boy shrugged carelessly. For the past two days—ever since the morning after she’d gone by the garage, in fact—he’d slipped back into his old ways, his attitude bitter, his answers sarcastic and his expression sullen. He was hurting; she didn’t need any special powers to see that. He was also tired, yawning throughout the class, and she sensed he was back to sneaking out with his friends at night.

She sat back in her chair, studying him for a moment.

“What is it, Jimmy?” she asked gently.

“Nothin’.”

She reached out to him. “You’re obviously upset—”

“I’m not,” he snapped, backing away.

“All right,” she said after a moment. Then she stood to gather her things. Jimmy lingered, as if uncertain whether or not he was free to leave. Or as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to. As she picked up her jacket, she asked, “Can I give you a ride to the garage? I have to stop at the drugstore on my way home.”