Page 97 of Over the Edge

“What did you do?”

“I panicked. Not because I was on my own. I was used tothat. But Gram had a gold claddagh pendant her father had given her mother on their wedding day in Ireland. Gram treasured it. She kept it in a box of cough drops in her dresser where Lorraine wouldn’t find it and hock it, but once in a while she’d take it out and show it to me. Thankfully, no one who’d gone through the broken-down furniture on the sidewalk had bothered with the cough drops. The pendant was still there.”

A little, motherless boy who suddenly had nowhere to live but who cared more about a sentimental item from his grandmother than where he would sleep that night.

Her heart melted.

She took a sip of her hot chocolate, swallowing past the lump in her throat as she struggled to hold on to her composure. “So if the apartment was locked, what did you do? Did you ask someone to call the police?”

“No. Lorraine had always told me to stay away from them. She said they caused problems. So I went to the church at the corner and knocked on the door of the house beside it. A priest answered. He fed me and assured me the police weren’t my enemies. He also stayed with me through the whole ordeal with the patrol officer and the woman from Social Services who showed up. By the end of the evening, I was with Mom and Dad. And I never left.”

Lindsey let out a slow breath. “I can’t believe everything you went through as a child. Most people who’d experienced all that wouldn’t have gone on to live a normal, productive life.”

“I wouldn’t have, either, if it hadn’t been for Gram, and then Mom and Dad. But those early years messed with my mind for a long time. Part of me thought it was my fault Lorraine was the way she was. That I’d failed her somehow, and that’s why she left. Why she punished me.”

“Oh, Jack.” She twined her fingers with his. “None of thatwas your fault. It’s obvious your birth mother had psychological issues.”

“I realize that now. From the research I’ve done, I suspect she had schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. But coming to grips with that was tough. And I’ve never overcome my fear of heights. Other than that, though, I gradually settled into a more normal life, thanks to Mom and Dad. From the day they took me until the day they died, they did everything they could to make up for my rough beginning.” The last word rasped.

Thank God he’d been placed in a loving home. Otherwise, Jack could easily have ended up on the other side of the law.

“I’m glad your story had a happy ending.”

“I am too. Sadly, not all foster kids are as lucky. That’s why I take a week of vacation every year and volunteer at Camp Gideon. Have you heard of it?”

“No.” But kudos to him for his willingness to help others.

“It’s a summer camp for kids like me, started by an ex-army pilot who was also in the foster program. It’s about forty-five minutes west of St. Louis. Kids from backgrounds like mine need a leg up, and Rick does a great job creating a memorable and positive experience for them.”

“I doubt he could do it without volunteers like you.”

Jack lifted one shoulder. “I believe in paying it forward.” He looked again at her hand resting on his while several silent seconds ticked by. “You know ... I’ve never told that story to anyone.”

Her heart stumbled. “Not even your parents?”

“No.” He lifted his head and his gaze locked onto hers, its intensity short-circuiting her lungs. “But I’m glad I told you.”

“I’m glad too.” Her response came out in a whisper.

“I also want to thank you for telling me about the situation with your parents. Your mom in particular.”

“It pales in comparison to what you went through.”

“Hurt is hurt. And it’s always worse when it comes from a family member.” He eased his hand free and slid off his stool. “I should go. Your desserts will need your attention soon, and I have a casserole to make.”

She stood too, despite her reluctance for this confidence-sharing session to end.

He followed her to the foyer, slipping his arms into his coat after she removed it from the closet. “I hope you enjoy your holiday.”

“You too.” But pleasant as her day at Madeleine’s would be, spending it with the detective who’d just offered her a window into his soul would be much, much better.

A timer began to beep.

“Your cheesecake calls.” Jack’s lips curved up.

She shifted her focus to them.

They were very nice lips. Firm, but with a hint of softness that suggested his kisses would be—

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