Page 3 of Defensive Indifference

“What if they euthanize him? I’ve heard about cases where they did that with the pets, you know? I’m not sure what I’ll do without him, Koa.”

Reaching behind the seat, I grasp her hand. “It’s like Spence said, we’ll get him back. I’ll talk to my lawyer. He’ll prove that I bought Preakness for you, not Dad.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Her lip quivers and her voice wavers.

“I can’t, but if it’s the last thing I do, I’m getting your horse back. I don’t care what I have to pay or who I have to convince, he’ll be back in the stable soon. I promise, Katie Bear.”

Katie cracks a smile and chuckles. “I’m not seven anymore, Koa.”

I wink and turn forward in the seat. “You’ll always be seven to me, kid. Let’s take a breather at Andrew’s, make a plan, call my lawyer, and see what happens. There’s every reason to believe we can prove where my money came from. I have a good accountant.”

Spencer glances my way, making eye contact. Who knows if Preakness will be okay, but I’ll fight to the death trying to get him back for her. The only problem is, with my credit card frozen, my assets seized, and lawyers generally preferring to be paid, I’m not sure if my lawyer will be willing to help us. Right now, all we can do is pray.

Chapter Two

Evalina

The settlement reached stamped in red across the top of today’s mail glares at me. After nearly a year in litigation, the property owner of the seven-store strip where my business is located has finally reached a settlement with what can only be described as a vulture. The Montgomery Company saw this little, outdated piece of Savannah history as a thorn in its side, an ugly one that disrupted the constructed beauty of their newest apartment complex. Put simply, they didn’t want an ugly, old building gracing the eyes of their high-dollar residents.

Dustin gathers his cleats and other equipment in silence. Even at eight years old, he knows something is wrong. Keeping it from him has been difficult, but there’s nothing I can do now. They’re going to demolish the building where I built my business, and since I can’t afford rent at any of the newer, fancy buildings, I fear my only source of income has also been wiped off the map.

“I’m ready, Mom.” His sweet voice wavers.

“Hey, come here and give your mom a hug.” I drop the mail on the desk and open my arms wide. He scrunches his nose but relents and falls into my embrace, his arms tight around my waist. Like this, he’s still my baby boy. He’s still the kid who, despite never having met his father, keeps up hope that one day he’ll change. One day, he’ll realize what he left behind. One day…he’ll love him.

“Is it going to be okay?” Dustin peers up at me with watery eyes, but he sniffles and, as he puts it, sucks it up like a man.

Guilt tickles my throat. I swallow it down, force it back into my chest where it will build into more anxiety than I can handle some days.

“Absolutely.”

“Camden said they’re going to tear down the building where you work. He said his dad told him it was a shame history was getting torn down left and right.”

I chuckle, working to keep it as lighthearted as I can despite the growing worry in my heart. “I agree with him, and I’m sure glad he and others fought for the building, but we can’t stop change, sweetheart. I’ll find another place for the shop. Now, don’t forget your helmet. We’re late for practice.”

When Dustin runs off to gather the last of his equipment, I snatch the letter from the desk and rip it open. I can’t wait until after his baseball practice to see how long I have to find new work.

Thirty days. Thirty whole days to pack up a lifetime of blood, sweat, and tears, stuff it into a box, and move it to…where?

The television blares in the background, but it isn’t until Dustin gasps that I pay any real attention to the constantly dismal news broadcasts and increasingly useless television programs. My gaze flutters up to the screen, and a familiar man’s face catches my attention. I know just about all there is to know about said man, considering Dustin prattles on about him nonstop.

“What’s going on?” I crumple the letter and toss it in my bag.

“They’re saying Mr. Keaton’s dad is a crook! They’re saying his whole family is!” Dustin’s tears slip out now, fully unchecked by his “be a man” mentality. Good. He’s a kid. He needs to feel his emotions, understand them, process them, not hold them in and fight through it all alone. However, the cause for his emotional breakdown is almost more than I can handle.

“I’m sure it’s all a mistake, honey.” Brushing his dark hair from his face, I dry his cheeks and smile. “Mr. Keaton is a good guy, right? You’re the one who tells me so all the time.”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “I said he’s good at baseball, Mom. I don’t know anything else about him.”

“Well, it’s thanks to him you got the scholarship to play baseball, right? Without his program for youth, we wouldn’t be able to afford all of this stinky sports gear you leave lying around the house.”

“I guess,” he mumbles. “Camden’s mom said she can drop me off at Sparkly’s after practice.”

“Okay, tell her thank you and there will be a dozen donuts waiting for her when she gets there.” I make a mental note to time things just right so they’re hot for her. Heaven knows, without Camden’s parents, Peter and Fiona, I’d be running around like a maniac trying to keep it all together. The Hughes family has been nothing short of a blessing for my little family.

On the way out the door, I ask God for some guidance. How am I supposed to keep my business going, raise a boy on my own, and pay the bills while still being present in his life? I need direction, the sort of divine intervention that changes people’s lives, because as my poor, human mind sees it, I’m out of options.

After embarrassing Dustin with a cheek kiss in the baseball practice drop-off line, I head to my shop for the afternoon rush. Hiring two teenagers to run the place while I’m gone was a horrible idea, but as luck would have it, adding another employee to the mix was a grand idea. Especially since the extra employee has the patience of Job but the mouth of a drill sergeant. It takes a lot to get her frustrated, but once she’s there, she divides up tasks and runs the place like a well-oiled machine.