“Hey, stranger!” she says, coming around the side to wrap me in a big Bridget-style bear hug. Football linebackers have nothing on her.
“Listen, I want to spring Dad for dinner. Will that be a problem?”
Bridget walks back around to the other side of the desk. She glances over the night chart on the wall, then looks back at me.
“He’s had his night meds already, so he’s good to go. Just no alcohol, alright?”
“You got it.”
“Where are you gonna take him?”
I grin. “I was thinking Dino’s, unless you’ve got a better suggestion.”
Bridget snorts. “There is no better suggestion than Dino’s—it may be a little rough around the edges, but damn they can make a hamburger.”
“You got that right.”
I practically skip down the hall at the idea of a big fat juicy non-turkey burger.
“Hey, princess,” Dad says when I make it to his room. “Check it out!”
He’s staring up at the TV, watching some guy pull something enormous, terrifying, and covered in scales out of the ocean on one of those Discovery Channel shows. I make a face at him.
“That’s gross, Daddy. Turn it off and get yourself ready. We’re busting outta this place tonight.”
He frowns and smooths a pale hand over his jeans.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I say, leaning over to kiss his cheek, “that I am taking you to Dino’s for a real hamburger and fresh-cut fries and some hockey or basketball or whatever sports game is on right now in the bar.”
Dad seems genuinely excited about leaving Holly Fields, but I can read him well enough to see the nerves that are playing on the surface. Once I’ve gotten him settled in Carson’s passenger seat and I’ve packed up the wheelchair in the back, I turn to face him from the driver’s side.
“Daddy—it’s just dinner. We’ll only be ten minutes away. And you’ve already had your meds. I promise it’ll be okay.”
Once, when he still lived at home, my dad had admitted that his biggest fear was that he’d have another stroke, or a heart attack, or something else in front of me and that I’d have to deal with it on my own. It was one of the catalysts for him moving to Holly Fields, that fear of burdening me. I hate that he wants to protect me so fiercely—yet, I love it, too. It’s what makes him the Papa Bear he’s always been. My protector.
Now that he’s bound to a chair, though, I think he feels less and less fierce than he used to. It’s my job to prove the opposite—starting with a big dose of red meat to satisfy his inner carnivore.
Dino’s is a dive in every sense of the word—shitty tables, shittier booths, and the best burgers in the entire Baltimore area. People swear by their wings, too, but I’m a burger and fries kind of girl, just like my dad. We both order “The Traditional”—a double cheeseburger with the works—and an extra-large basket of fries to share. While we wait, I sip a Sam Adams and watch Dad’s focus bounce from TV to TV as he keeps tabs on the different games airing. I know he misses coming to sports bars and watching games with friends. I hate that even the simple joys of his life are lost to heart monitors and physical therapy and mandatory blood sugar screenings.
“So, how’s the student teaching, princess?” Dad asks, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You haven’t said much about it in the last few visits.”
I shrug just as our server plunks down a basket of French fries the size of a shoebox on the table in front of us. I busy myself shaking on some malt vinegar.
“It’s okay,” I finally say. “There’s a lot of grading—if I give them an assignment, the students pretty much won’t do it at all unless they know there’s a benefit to their grade.”
“Got a lot of slackers, do ya?”
“I wouldn’t say that, necessarily—they just don’t want to work any harder than they absolutely have to.”
Dad snags a fry and reaches for the ketchup on the table. I thank the universe for small favors when I see it’s a squeeze bottle. Dad seems pleased with himself when he can squirt his own little puddle and dip right into it. Little victories feel huge lately—for both of us, I guess.
“Well, fancy meeting you here, Miss Hendricks.”
I look up to see Officer Rains towering above me, looking a little less officer and a lot more relaxed. He’s wearing khakis and a T-shirt, along with a baseball cap, and his face is practically unidentifiable with a wide smile spread across it. I realize for the first time that he’s probably not that old—late twenties maybe.
“Wow—hi. I, uh, didn’t expect to see anyone from school here.”
Officer Rains lifts a brow at me. “Well, at a place like Dino’s, I wouldn’t expect to be seeing you here, either.”
“Right.” I gesture between him and Dad. “Um, this is my dad. Dad—Officer Rains works at Franklin with me. He’s the school resource officer.”
Dad reaches out a hand.
“Gary Hendricks,” he says, smiling up at him. “Should I be worried that my daughter is rubbing elbows with a police officer?”
Rains laughs, then shakes his head. “Nah, she’s a good egg. She’s certainly managing to hold her own, sir.”
I feel myself stiffen. I hadn’t told Dad about the altercation with J. D., not to mention the fight in my classroom, or the gun in the hallway. And the last thing I want to do is tell him now.
“Yo, Eric—are we eating or what?” a voice says from behind Rains. I glance back over his shoulder, then suck in a sharp breath.
Smith is standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at me, but at the police officer in front of me, who is half glaring at him.
“Forgive Smith,” Officer Rains says with a tight smile. “He doesn’t have the best manners.”
Smith snorts a laugh. “Whatever—you’re just mad that I’m the better-looking brother. That, and Mom loves me best.”
Brother?
Smith then lets his gaze travel from Rains to me. His eyes immediately widen and his mouth pops open. Slowly, his expression morphs from shocked to something like pleased.
“Well, Miss Hendricks,” he drawls. “I have to say Dino’s is probably about the last place I’d expect to see my English teacher.”
I give him a tight smile. “Your brother just said the same thing.”
Next to me, Dad is looking back and forth between me and Smith.
“Is this one of your students?” he asks.
I want to groan. Or lie. But I can’t do either. So, I make the introductions instead.
“Smith, this is my father, Gary Hendricks. Dad, Smith is in one of my senior English classes.”
Dad scoots his wheelchair out, then maneuvers himself over to shake Smith’s hand. I see Smith’s eyes flick over the wheelchair, then back up to Dad’s face.
“It’s great to meet you, sir,” he says. He sounds unexpectedly genuine. “Your daughter is one of the best teachers I’ve ever had.”
I sort of blink at him, but Dad is beaming now.
“I have no doubt that’s true, son,” Dad says.
“Right—well, it was great to meet you,” Officer Rains says. “We better put in our burger order before we miss out on the Happy Hour special.”
Smith snorts at his brother.
“Speak for yourself. Only a sadist brings his younger brother to a bar that doesn’t accept his fake ID.”
“And only an idiot talks about his fake ID to his cop brother,” Rains growls.
Smith chuckles at that, then nods at Dad. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
His eyes flick over to me before he turns around. I watch as they walk away, feeling frozen in place. When our burgers arrive moments later, I try to focus on inhaling my food and calming my brain enough to make sense of the facts.
Officer Rains is Smith’s older brother.
Smith is my student.
What starts as a niggling idea begins to evolve into an implosion in my brain.
Could Smith have told Rains about us?
I listen with feigned interest as Dad starts telling me about a new resident at Holly Fields who he thinks is sweet on Wyatt. Really, though, I’m watching Rains and Smith in my periphery—so when Smith pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and heads for the door, I count to sixty before making an excuse to go to the car.