Danielle Steel - Ransom

She cooked dinner for them when they got home, and put it on the table at six. She made hamburgers and salad, and put a bowl of potato chips out for them. It wasn't health food, but at least they ate it. She picked at hers, didn't even bother to put a hamburger on her plate, and pushed most of her salad into the garbage. She was seldom hungry, nor was Ashley. She had gotten taller and thinner in the past four months, which made her look suddenly older.

Ashley was upstairs doing her homework, and Sam was watching TV, when Fernanda and Will left at a quarter to seven, and drove to the Presidio. He was wearing cleats and his baseball gear, and didn't say much to her. They were both quiet and pensive, and once they got there, she went to sit in the bleachers with the other parents. No one spoke to her, and she didn't try to engage them in conversation. People didn't know what to say to her. Her grief made everyone feel awkward. It was almost as though people were afraid the loss would be contagious. Women with safe, comfortable, normal lives and husbands didn't want to get near her. She was suddenly single for the first time in seventeen years, and felt like a pariah, as she sat watching the game in silence.

Will scored two home runs. His team won six to nothing, and he looked pleased when they drove home. He loved winning, and hated losing.

“Want to stop for a pizza?” she offered. He hesitated and then nodded. He ran in with the money she handed him, and got a large with everything on it, and then he turned and smiled at her when he got back in the car, and sat in the front seat with the pizza box perched on his lap.

“Thanks, Mom… thanks for coming …” He wanted to say something more to her, but didn't know how. He wanted to tell her that it meant a lot to him that she always came, and he wondered why his father hadn't. Not since he was a little kid. He had never even seen one of his lacrosse games. Allan had taken him to World Series games, and the Super Bowl, with some of his business associates. But that was different. He never went to Will's games. But she did, and as they drove home, she glanced over at him, and he smiled at her. It was one of those golden moments that happen once in a while between mothers and children, that you remember forever.

The sky was a gentle pink and mauve across the bay, as she pulled into their driveway, and she looked at it for a minute, as he got out of the car with his pizza. For the first time in months, she had a sense of competence and peace and well-being, as though she could handle what life had thrown at her, and they would all survive it. Maybe things were going to be okay after all, she told herself, as she locked her car, and followed Will up the steps to the house. She was smiling to herself, and he was already in the kitchen, as she closed the door gently behind her.

Chapter 5

Carlton Waters checked in with his parole agent on schedule, two days after he got out. As it turned out, he had the same parole agent as Malcolm Stark, and they went to report together. Waters was told to check in weekly, as Stark had been doing. Stark was determined not to go back this time. He had stayed clean since he'd been out, and was making enough at the tomato farm to stay afloat, to go out to eat at the local coffee shop, and be able to pay for a few beers. Waters had gone to apply for a job in the office of the farm where Stark worked. They said they'd let him know on Monday.

The two men had agreed to hang out together over the weekend, although Carl had said there were some family members he wanted to see on Sunday. They had been warned to stay in the area, and needed permission to go out of the district, but Waters told Stark his relatives were just a bus ride away. He hadn't seen them since he was a kid. They had dinner at a nearby diner on Saturday night, and then went to hang out in a bar, watching baseball on TV, and they were back in the house by nine o'clock. Neither of them wanted any problems. They had done their time, now they wanted peace, freedom, and to keep their noses clean. Waters said he hoped he'd get the job he'd interviewed for the day before, and if not, he'd have to start looking for something else. But he wasn't worried about it. The two men were asleep on their bunks by ten o'clock, and when Stark got up at seven o'clock the next day, Carl was gone, and had left him a note. He said he'd gone to see his relatives, and would see him that night. Stark saw later that Carl had checked himself out in the log at six-thirty that morning. He spent the rest of the day hanging around the house, watching the ballgame on TV, and talking to the others. He never gave any further thought to where Carl had gone. He had said he'd be with his relatives, and whenever anyone asked Stark where Carl was, he said so.

Malcolm Stark hung out with Jim Free from about midday. They walked to the nearest Jack in the Box and bought tacos for dinner. Free was the man who had been hired to kill a man's wife, had bungled the job, and wound them both up in prison instead. But they never spoke of their criminal life when they were together. None of them did. They did in prison occasionally, but out in the world, they were determined to put the past behind them. Free looked like he'd been in prison though. He had tattoos up and down his arms, and the familiar prison teardrops tattooed on his face. He seemed as though no one and nothing frightened him. He could take care of himself and looked it.

The two men sat talking about the ballgame that night, eating their tacos and talking about games they'd seen, players they admired, batting averages, and historical moments in baseball they'd wished they'd seen. It was the kind of conversation two men could have had anywhere, and Stark smiled when Free commented about the girl he'd just met. He met her at the gas station where he worked. There was a coffee shop next to it, and she worked there as a waitress. He said she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, and looked a lot like Madonna, which made Stark guffaw. He'd heard descriptions like that before, in the joint, and it always made him question the guy's eyesight. The women never looked anything like the guy's descriptions when you saw them. But if that was what Jim Free thought, he wasn't going to argue with him. A man was entitled to his dreams and illusions.

“She know you been in the joint?” Malcolm Stark asked with interest.

“Yeah. I told her. Her brother did time for grand theft auto as a kid. She didn't look too worried.” It was a whole world of people who seemed to measure time by who went to prison, for how long, and it didn't seem to faze them. It was like a club, or a secret society. They had a way of finding each other.

“You been out with her yet?” There was a woman Stark had his eye on too, at the tomato plant, but he hadn't dared approach her yet. His dating skills were a little rusty.

“I thought I'd ask her about next weekend,” Free said awkwardly. They all dreamed of romance and wild sexual exploits when they were doing time. And once out, it was harder to pursue than they'd expected. They were neophytes in the real world, in a lot of ways. And in some ways seeking out women was the hardest. Most of the time, the men in the halfway house just hung out together, except for the ones who were married. But even they took a while to get to know their wives again. They were so used to a world of men, devoid of women, that in a lot of ways, it was easier staying in an all-male world, like priests, or men who had been too long in the military. Women were an uncomfortable addition to the equation. An all-male society was more familiar to them, and simpler.

Stark and Free were both sitting on the front steps, shooting the breeze when Carlton Waters walked in that evening. He looked relaxed and at ease, and as though he'd spent a pleasant day, as he smiled at the two men. He was wearing a blue cotton shirt open over a T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, and his boots were dusty. He had just walked half a mile from the bus stop, on a dirt road, on a beautiful spring night. And he looked to be in good spirits. He was smiling and seemed relaxed.