Page 3 of No Saint

Grief crumbles her features, tears instantly welling to her dark eyes as her hand clutches her chest, “No.”

“His body has yet to be recovered.”

“There’s still hope,” she whispers, her voice thick.

I doubted it. Lucas had been missing for three weeks already, his car only just discovered. He wouldn’t have stayed away, he wouldn’t have ran, and if he had, I’d have to kill him myself.

But Lucas was dead, there was no other alternative.

But I understood her grief and her denial, her eldest child was dead, and she hadn’t said goodbye. I place a hand on her shoulder and lay the folder in front of her. Perhaps this would help bring her closure while I figured out what to do with this new information.

The child in that photo belonged to my brother, he became a father sixteen months ago. He knew about the child and chose to keep it from us, leaving the mother to raise the child alone with the child holding the wrong last name.

The boy belonged to the Saints.

He was the next generation.

And I would have him.

3

Iwas running late. I glance at the clock on the dash of my car, I had a little over ten minutes to make it six miles across the city in rush hour traffic. It didn’t seem possible.

Not when the cars ahead of me were at a standstill, horns blasting and shouts echoing though the noise which does nothing to move the traffic on. I don’t know how I lost track of time, the bar where I worked was busy, busier than usual for a weekday and I’d been rushed off my feet, same as the other girls that worked there. If it hadn’t been for Julia practically screaming at me to leave, I’d likely still be there, serving drink and food to the suits that wandered in for dodgy business meetings and backhanded deals. The bar wasn’t exactly the most upstanding place in the city and the suits only came during the day in the week.

I ignored it mostly. I was no stranger to the darker side of life and didn’t care much whether what they were doing was illegal or not.

The engine of my beat up chevy sputters, blowing out a plume of black smog from the exhaust as the wipers stick halfway up the screen, not able to clear the water falling against it. It had heavily rained all day, and if I couldn’t get these damn wipers to work, it didn’t matter if I was late because I wouldn’t be able to see where I was going.

I lean over the steering wheel and slam my fist down hard, forcing the wipers to move an inch, I do it twice more and they finally unstick, clearing the window.

I roll my tires forward in the traffic, but I was still stuck, just like everyone else.

I couldn’t afford the late pick-up fee the daycare would charge me for this.

“Move!” my voice joins the chorus of other angry and impatient people, not sure what or who I was shouting at but feeling better, nonetheless. Screaming always helped.

I reach across to my phone, dialing the nursery to let them know. I’d have no choice but to pay the fee if I wanted to keep Lincoln there. I’d have to figure out where I would take the money from. Food wasn’t an option now my son was eating more than just pureed vegetables, but I guess with summer now upon us, the heating could come off with the days warming up ready for the height of the season. Nights still got a little chilly in the apartment, but I could keep us warm until the temperatures evened out.

Sighing, I tell the nursery I’ll be late, holding my tongue when they explain the fees and then hang up, slumping in the chair as the car crawls through the traffic.

Thirty minutes later I pull the car into the lot outside the daycare, jogging through the rain into the building. The young girl at the reception desk smiles and calls back for them to bring my son through.

My whole mood lightens the moment my eyes land on him. He giggles, dimples sinking into his chubby cheeks, hazel eyes bright and innocent. He mumbles and gurgles and the moment he sees me, he thrashes in the woman’s arms, trying to get to me. I take him instantly, wrapping my arms around him and placing him on my hip as I pepper his face with kisses. After signing off on the fees to go on the invoice, I leave the daycare.

I was thankful it was my day off tomorrow, today had been stressful and this just added to it, plus, I wanted to spend time with my boy.

Being a single mother was tough. Nothing was ever good enough. There was never enough time.

But I made do.

And I had no regrets with the life I chose to lead.

Sure, I wish things could be different, but wishes are for children and reality was cruel.

I place Lincoln into the car seat in the back, strapping him up. He giggles as I tickle my fingers against his belly, smiling down at his sweet little face until a warning shiver runs down my spine. Stiffening, I finish securing him in and straighten, glancing over my shoulder.

Growing up and having the experiences I had, I wasn’t fool enough to ignore my intuition.

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