Page 13 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
“We were a handful. You ask anyone in the west end if they know the Cole boys and they’ll say they do know us and we’re hooligans. Then they’ll say, ‘God bless Isabella Cole.’ They all knew the hardship she went through, still is since Lawson and Lane are still at home.”
I sat in silence for a moment, nodding gently, as a group of twenty-somethings walked past, chatting loudly about something.
“Your mother sounds like a very resilient woman,” I eventually commented.
Lennon bobbed his head. “Yeah, she’s tough. Always told us to speak our truths, so that’s what we do. Like today, here, with you.”
“Hmm, yes, well, that’s flattering and all, but as I mentioned, I—”
My phone buzzed, startling me. I fished my cell from my back pocket, checked who was texting, and saw it was Rissa telling me Valeria was awake and asking for me. “It’s my paralegal.”
“Big legal things happening, Matlock?”
“Did I mention I was a lawyer?” How did this person know what I did for a living? Did I discuss my vocation with him?
“No, but you said you had a paralegal so…”
“Oh, yes, well, that makes sense.” God above, I was as dull as a butter knife. “Yes, her name is Rissa, quite an excellent paralegal. She stopped by to visit with some legal papers, then decided I needed some fresh air and sent me out into the world. Valeria is struggling with night terrors and refuses to sleep in her brand-new bed.” I paused to draw in a breath. “I’m not sure why I’m sharing all this with you. I barely know you.”
“I have one of those auras. I’m a nurturer. Eldest of seven brothers who helped raise my siblings when my father passed away. Typical personality traits of the oldest child who had to grow up fast and shoulder a lot. Just like Fiona Gallagher.”
“I’m not familiar with her,” I said offhandedly as I texted Rissa back to say I was on my way home. I’d been gone for over an hour, it seemed. How long I napped at the feet of the good Pastor Hale, I had no clue.
“Character onShameless,” he answered as we both pushed to our feet. I gazed at him blankly. “TV show? No, well, it’s a classic. You ain’t lived life as a gay man until you see Mickey and Ian’s relationship develop.”
“I’ll have to read up on it,” I said while brushing grass from my backside. I glanced up to see him enjoying the sight of me patting my ass. To be fair, I did have a nice ass. Firm and tight from running all those years. When our eyes met, he winked naughtily. “You’re very bawdy for a man who sings songs to children.”
“I’m only naughty around men I find incredibly attractive. Mostly. I hope to see you tomorrow at the weekly sing-along by the old linden tree.” He doffed his beret theatrically, then walked off, with his hands in his pockets, whistling a song. My gaze fell to his ass as he sauntered off. He also had a nice backside, small and high, held by soft denim. My phone buzzed, yanking my sight from his rump, a good thing indeed because gawking at the rear-end of a street performer was not at all on my list of life goals. I did have standards for whom I dated. To be honest, I had standards for everything in my life. Rather high standards, for I was a man with refined tastes who ran his home just like he did his law office. With elite professionalism and an eye to detail in my dress, my decorations, and my—
“Hey, here you go, buddy. I meant to get over sooner, but my dog broke his leash.” A middle-aged man wearing a Bruins tee with a panting Boxer gave me a kind smile as he stuffed five bucks into the empty coffee cup at my feet. “Hope things pick up for you soon.”
He jogged off. I gaped at the fiver in the Styrofoam cup. Wonderful. I had tumbled from the heights of Boston high society to being mistaken for a person experiencing homelessness in the span of thirty days. I grabbed the cup, stalked home, and handed the fiver to Rissa after Valeria met me at the door in tears.
“She thought you were never coming back,” Rissa whispered as I lifted the little girl and placed her on my hip. I kissed Valeria’s hair. “Drop this into an envelope and add a check for ten grand to it and mail it to the closest homeless shelter.”
“Gladly. Anything else?” Rissa reached out to rub Valeria’s heaving back.
“Leave that list of counselors on the fridge.”
“Already done. I’ll check in on Monday. Try to find something fun to do this weekend, okay?”
Oh, was the weekend here? Damn, I had lost track of the days. “We will. I promise. Something outside,” I added before she could say anything.
With that, she left us to our devices. We ended up coloring after the tears slowed.
“You stay in the lines good,” Valeria praised my coloring efforts.
“As do you.”
She looked up, smiled, and went back to her pink penguin. Maybe crayons weren’t all that bad. If they brought my sister’s baby girl such joy, how could they be bad?
Chapter Six
Crayons are bad.
My original theory on them was now reinstated. They were little waxy fingers of Satan.
How had she wrought such destruction in the time it took me to find my slippers and wash the sleep from my face? I stared down at the limited edition African Art of the Congo coffee table book, defaced in the span of five minutes.
