Marion Croslydon - Fast Forward

The lawyer nodded, visibly relieved by the tiny woman next to me flying to his rescue. I forced myself to relax.

“Mr. Curtis,” she started and I knew what she was about to say, “I was asked to go on tour with a band. I might be offered representation by an agent at the end of it.” She bit her lower-lip and threw a sheepish sideways glance at me. “I don’t want to do anything that could weaken our case. So if you think I should give it up…”

She left her unfinished sentence hanging in the air. Curtis seemed to weigh the pros and cons in his head before answering. “And how long will the tour last?”

“Six more weeks. I’m filling in for a guy who broke his leg. I can cancel if you think—”

Curtis raised his hand to stop Cassie and it made me resent him even more. “No need, Cassandra.” But his voice softened as he pronounced her name and he was clearly making an effort to smooth his sharpness when talking to her. “If it’s only immediate and temporary, it shouldn’t be any problem. We have to use the next couple of months to fill the forms and gather all the basic information and documentation anyway. However…” he cleared his throat, “I believe a judge will have serious reservations about any prospective mother who lives on a tour bus. Add to this the fact you’re a high-school drop-out who abandoned—”

“—We’re not here to revisit the past. Cassie has a gift and I intend to support her career, in the same way she’s supporting mine.”

Cassie ignored me. “I understand, Mr. Curtis.”

The lawyer nodded, then his focus swung back to me. “I simply want to make sure all odds are stacked in your favor.”

His words were clearly a peacemaking gesture. And Curtis was right. Lucas was not yet ours. “We’ll do everything you ask us to do.”

“Also, please don’t forget that the unsupervised access to Lucas you’ve been granted today is purely thanks to the good word of his grandfather. Cassandra seems to have a close relationship with him and the caseworker. Remember that under absolutely no circumstance at this stage are you allowed to say or do something that could compromise the child’s balance.”

“That’s pretty vague,” I said.

“You should act as well-intentioned friends of his late parents and of his grandfather. No more. Don’t discuss your biological bond.”

“We won’t,” Cassie answered.

When we walked out of the downtown office of Curtis, Curtis & Brown, LLC, the early August heat fell over us like a lead blanket.

Cassie whistled. “That went well.”

The stoop in her shoulders said otherwise. So did the crease between her eyebrows. I couldn’t stand seeing her like this, not after I’d promised we’d get Lucas back. I grabbed her hand and invited her to look at me. “Curtis may not be much of a people person, but I think he’s exactly who we need.”

“Frustration was steaming out of your nostrils.”

“Yeah, the guy grates on my nerves. All lawyers do. But like he said, we’re a couple of twenty-four-year-olds without traditional jobs or a proper home. Plus, our track-record as the perfect couple pretty much sucks.” If only I could travel back in time and keep Cassie from putting Lucas up for adoption. Or if only I had gone after her before it was too late.

Cassie’s shoulders hunched even more. I stepped closer, lowering myself so that my eyes could meet hers. My free hand slid around her waist. “Please trust me, Cass. I’ll figure this out. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll even be nicer to lawyers.” Her lips tightened but the clouded thoughts seemed to dissipate from her eyes. “Believe in me, Cass. I’ll get Lucas back.”

She gave me a tiny nod. I wanted Cassie’s trust. I needed her trust.

“Let’s go. We don’t want the little one to wait and traffic looks like hell.”

I pulled Cassie toward the entrance of the underground parking lot and checked my watch. The very watch Lenor, my fiancée until two weeks ago, had given me for my birthday. I shook away the memory of the mess Cass and I had created and wallowed in over the last six years.

This was my chance—our chance—to make things right. I’d made a promise to Cass and to damn it all to hell, I’d never break it.

Cassie

Josh had spent a fortune on the tickets. Three seats on the first base line at Kauffman Stadium to watch The Royals slaughter The Seattle Mariners. I knew he wasn’t exactly rolling in cash at the moment. Still, it was all completely lost on me.

I’d spent the whole game with my eyes glued on the little boy sitting between Josh and me. I’d never been with Lucas before with the crazy possibility that he could be mine. Hopefully, we’d be able to call him our little boy. Soon.

Soon. I kept repeating the mantra in my head.

“Baseball is complicated,” Lucas concluded, after Josh tried to explain the basics of the sport while pitcher Will Smith was notching his career-best eighth strikeout. “I prefer football.” Lucas brought the straw of his apple juice back to his mouth and sipped on it again. He sounded like a mini-adult.

I saw the high-school quarterback in Josh give a war whoop. A love for football must have passed to Lucas with the rest of Josh’s DNA: the brown hair, the Coca-Cola eyes and the dimples. I had no idea where my genes had gone during the conception lottery. Though, I hadn’t heard Lucas sing yet: maybe he was the next Groban.

I chuckled and Josh cocked an eyebrow. I smiled back at him. He’d been trying so hard since we’d picked up Lucas at his foster home. I rested my hand on his little knee. He was wearing jeans, but the contact was enough for him to relax. His shoulders dropped a bit and his upper-body swayed toward me. Not by much, but I had to fight the overwhelming need to wrap my arms around him to keep him safe and close. My need for Lucas felt like hunger. I shook myself.

Josh’s fingertips brushed against my cheekbone like they often did these days. Our eyes met: It was my turn to sway. He knew how it felt. I saw it in a smile that wasn’t enough to crease his dimples.

Leaving ‘The K’ after the game was awkward. Entertaining a five-year-old, or rather getting him out of his funk, had become mission impossible. Or maybe we were just crap at it.

Josh knelt in front of Lucas to level his eyes at him. “What about we get a souvenir?”

We stood in front of the gift shop. Lucas gave a tight nod of approval so we went inside. The boys went around admiring stuff boys loved. I just stood still and watched them. They settled for a child-sized baseball bat and a ball with the Royals’ logo.

I caught a glimpse of Josh’s credit card receipt and swallowed hard. He gave me a sheepish smile. “It feels like bribery.”

“Let me help you with the money. Today must have—“

“—Don’t.” He gently grabbed my elbow and forced me to stop and face him. We both checked that Lucas hadn’t moved too far away. He was standing in front of a life-size poster of his hero of the day, Will Smith. “You don’t owe me anything, Cass. The little I have is ours.” He stole another glance at Lucas and his head tilted forward in that stubborn way of his. “One day…soon, I’ll have more. Neither of you will be in need of anything. I swear to God. I’ll make you both safe and happy, and I’ll work hard to keep it that way. Always.”

Some guys tattooed the name of their lovers on their chests. Others wrote poetry or songs. But this was Josh’s way of showing that he loved me, that he loved our child. Even as high-school seniors when I told him I was pregnant, Josh hadn’t bailed on me.

But back then, it’d meant giving up on his future. On a better life. Back then, I’d been the one to bail.

I went on my tip-toes and rested my hands flat on his chest. My lips brushed his. They tasted of the apple juice he’d shared with Lucas. We both breathed each other in.

“My daddy and mommy kissed each other a lot.”

We jumped apart. A gulf opened up between us in a split second and we stood staring at our shoes. Just like when Gran had surprised us making out in the backyard of the farm at sixteen.

Lucas was staring at me like a teacher telling off a naughty kid. “Of course they did,” I said. “They loved each other.”

He processed the info while the crowd kept hurrying around us. “Do you love each other?”

“Very much,” Josh answered straight back.

Not so long ago, I’d have bet Josh hated my guts so it was sweet to hear him say these words out loud. More people weaved around us in the crowded store, but we stood still, hanging on to whatever it was Lucas was going to say next. It was easy to see the engine of his brain whirring.

And then he simply shrugged. “I want to go back to Mrs. Sorenson. I’m tired.”

Josh and I looked at each other. I felt my mouth drooping like a sad emoticon. Josh gave me a slight shake of the head and said under his breath, “Give him time.” Then louder and to Lucas: “Of course you’re tired. It’s been a big day. But if you find your energy again, we can play ball at home if you like.”

We stood on either side of Lucas, both of us looking down at his clammed-up face. He ignored our hands hanging by our sides, waiting to be held.

“That’s not my home. My home is where I lived with my mommy and my daddy.”

The drive back to the Sorenson’s was a variation on the same theme. Josh and I trying to get Lucas to talk, and Lucas nodding or mumbling a ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and little else. Not exactly the stuff a ‘happy-family-day-out’ was made of. But we weren’t a family. Yet. Family was much more than sharing a slice of DNA.

Lucas walked ahead of us up the driveway that led to his foster home. A woman stood on the porch. A cute brunette in her mid-thirties. As I walked toward her, I noticed how sweet her plump face looked. She didn’t acknowledge Josh and me. Her attention was focused on Lucas.