I forgot, a couple of updates ago, to thank certain persons who know who they are for screen caps of belt buckles
Which were yummy, btw.
We're starting to wrap things up now, as you can probably guess. Thanks for your continued support and love :luvlove: and please, enjoy the following!
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On April first, Nick found himself whistling to the music on the radio as he drove one last time out to Blue Diamond to pick up Cassie. When he pulled up to the old farm house, Emily was outside, taking Cassie’s bike out of the storage shed where it had been placed when she arrived.
She turned her expressionless face up to Nick when he approached her. “She’s upstairs packing . . . she’s been singin’ all day.”
He smiled. “Me too,” he admitted.
She paused to admire him a little – although he suspected she was just trying to find something kind to say – before she invited him to go into the house and get Cassie himself.
When he found her room he peeked inside to find Susan sitting on her bed watching Cassie pack away the last few things she had left out. “You know the only reason he’s adopting you is so he can have sex with you.”
“You know you’re only saying that because you’re jealous,” Cassie replied tiredly over her shoulder.
“Of you having sex with that guy? No, not really.”
Cassie sighed. “You’re stupid. Nick’s not like that, so stop talking about him that way.”
“All boys are like that,” said Susan meanly, knowing Nick was in the hallway.
Cassie zipped her duffel bag and hung it over her shoulder. Turning to Susan, she repeated, “You’re stupid,” before she picked up the picture of her family she kept on the night stand.
Nick opened the door fully. “Hey, Cassie Jane,” he said, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. She ran to him, and he swooped her up in a hug. When he let go, he asked Cassie if she was ready.
“Yep,” she said brightly, and then looked back at Susan. “Maybe I’ll write to you.”
“You probably won’t, stupid.”
“Whatever.” Then, to Susan’s surprise, Cassie crossed the room and hugged her. “I’ll miss you, you know. I mean, even though you were never nice to me, it was kind of like having a sister, for a little while.”
“Whatever,” was all the confused Susan could say in reply.
Cassie turned to Nick. “Let’s go,” she said with a smile. “Miss Emily has some other stuff of mine in the garage.”
“Why don’t you go on down and say goodbye to her?” he suggested. “Give me your bag.” She gave it to him, but kept her picture tucked in her arm as she headed down the stairs. Nick looked in at Susan. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She crossed her arms and put her knees together, tucking her feet underneath her. “I’m fine,” she replied, eyeing him distrustfully. “I’m fine. Go away.”
“I brought you something,” he said, reaching behind him. He pulled a new baseball glove out from the back of his jeans, where he’d tucked it when he arrived. He held it out, smiling. “You’re a leftie, too – just like Cassie.”
“I don’t like baseball,” she said, but it wasn’t true.
He chose to ignore the remark. “I know you don’t like pink, but I thought you’d like red.”
She glared at him. “I don’t like red either.”
“I’m going to put it on Cassie’s bed, okay?” She watched him like a hawk as he took the few steps toward Cassie’s bed, set the glove down, and walked back to the doorway. “It’s just a ball glove, Susan – I just want you to enjoy it.”
“No, you don’t.”
Nick wasn’t ready to concede yet. “I’m not going to hurt Cassie,” he said gently. “I just want to give her a home.”
“I don’t believe you,” spat Susan, “and I don’t care about stupid Cassie.”
There were spots on Nick’s back that still said otherwise. “I think you do, Susan. She’ll write to you, okay?”
“Go away.” She inched backward on her bed.
“Okay, Susan.” Disturbed, Nick nodded and turned to walk down the stairs and out the door. He noted that two cardboard boxes and Cassie’s bike had been loaded into the back of his truck, before he saw Emily hugging Cassie.
“Be good,” Emily whispered as she pulled away, and it was the first time Nick had ever seen her smile.
“I will,” said Cassie happily. “Thanks for taking care of me, Miss Emily.”
Emily wiped a tear away as Cassie ran to the truck and climbed in. Nick watched quietly, and then turned to Emily. “This is a little awkward, but . . . I think you should know . . . Susan said some things to Cassie-”
“Things about you wanting to have sex with her?”
Nick nodded, creasing his brow.
“Susan’s a little like me,” she said quietly, folding her arms over her chest. “Doesn’t trust anyone . . . suspicious of everything. She’s been saying those things since you started showing up.” She paused, and looked away, and then looked Nick in the eye. “Susan’s dad has been labeled a bad person because after he finally beat and raped his wife to death, he started pimping his six-year-old daughter out to support his drug habit. Susan . . . she’s hurt, Nick. Some scars never heal, and she’s just never going to trust men. You rescued Cassie. You can’t rescue Susan. Don’t . . . don’t let what she said disturb you too much . . . she’s safe here.”
“I know she is,” he replied gently, “but I’m still disturbed.”
Emily nodded. “You know, she’s jealous of Cassie, too, in her way.”
“Well,” replied Nick uncomfortably, “I guess we’ll see how that goes. I could wind up being a tyrant; you never know.”
“I can’t see that happening,” she replied, so softly he hardly heard her.
He smiled and waited for her to look back up at him. “I admire you, Emily,” he said when she did. “I’ve seen where these kids would be without people like you. I’m sure you think you’re not appreciated . . . I’m sure you’re not appreciated as much as you should be . . . and I’m sure you know that not all foster homes are like yours. But I think you’re terrific at what you do. I wish there were more people in the world like you.”
Although she appeared to blow it off, Emily would remember those words from Nick for a long time to come. After a pause, she said quickly, “When she gets a cold her whole neck aches . . . and you can’t give her that green nighttime medicine. She won’t touch it.” She almost looked pleading when she said, “Give her some chamomile tea . . . with honey . . . and a heating pad.”
Nick gazed at Emily with a slight smile. “It’s what the boys used to drug her,” he said softly. When Emily looked up at him, confused, he continued. “The night her family died. That’s why she won’t take it.”
The screen door slammed, and both of them looked up to see Susan walking guardedly toward them.
“What is it, Susan?” asked Emily.
She stopped, and raised her head slowly to look at Nick’s kneecaps. She paused to summon up enough courage to meet his eyes.
“Thank you for the baseball glove.” Her voice was a whisper.
Nick smiled. “You’re welcome, Susan.”
“Can Cassie come for sleepovers sometimes?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “She can.”
Susan looked like she had something more to say, but her courage faltered and she turned quickly to run back into the house.
He chuckled a little, looking down, pleased that he had gotten that much out of her. Looking over at Emily, he reassured her. “I know . . . I can’t rescue her. I get it. It’s just a ball glove.”
Emily nodded. “You just take care of the one you did rescue,” she said. “Now go on – I’ll need to talk to Susan.”
Nick nodded to her and walked to his truck. Emily watched him drive down the road, going inside only when she couldn’t see him any longer.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Nick drove straight home. As he pulled into the driveway and parked, he looked over at Cassie. She was wide-eyed, looking at her new surroundings, and very quiet.
“Here we are,” he said softly when he had turned off the engine. “You ready to go inside?”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile, and unbuckled her seat belt. He got out and walked around to the other side to help her down from the truck, collecting her duffel bag from the floor. She walked down to the end of the driveway, clutching her family picture to her chest. She had been there a handful of times to visit Elizabeth and Ginger, but now that it was her house and her neighborhood, she looked around with new eyes. Looking down the street one way, and then the other, she quietly said, “I never lived in a real neighborhood before. My house in Pioche was in the country and so is Miss Emily’s. Are there other kids that live on this street?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few of them around. I bet you can find them a lot better than I can.”
“Cool,” she said, smiling. “Let’s go in the house.” She raced up the driveway, Nick following.
He opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Cassie. She came into the house with a smile, still clutching the photo of her family close. With wide eyes, she looked around and took a step down the hallway, and then turned to Nick.
He smiled as he shut the door, and stepped a little closer to her. A feeling of warmth overcame him as he stood there watching her. “Welcome home, Cassie,” he said gently, finally understanding himself that she truly was home, with him, where she belonged.
She smiled brilliantly at him, then ran to hug him. “I’m happy to be home.” When she pulled away she took his hand and led him down the hall and into the living room, where she looked around with a little smile.
“The T is for Texas, isn’t it?” she asked, pointing at his rug.
“You got it, princess,” he replied proudly. She giggled a little.
“Which way is my room?”
“Oh – it’s upstairs. Come on.” He led her to the staircase and climbed up. When they reached the top, he pointed out his own room, which was at the end of the hall on the right side of the stairs. Then he turned and headed left, and opened the door at the opposite end of the hall. “Here you go,” he said. Cassie followed him in. “It’s got a nice window . . . you can see the yard . . . and there’s a big closet.”
She looked around the room. “It’s really pretty, Nick,” she said quietly, placing her picture on the night table next to her bed. “Did Elizabeth help you decorate it?”
“No, she didn’t, actually.”
“You did it all by yourself?”
Nick cleared his throat and grinned sheepishly. “Well . . . Elizabeth helped me paint.” He looked down at Cassie, who tilted her head and gave him a look that said she knew better. “Oh, okay . . . Catherine decorated it. How’m I supposed to know that pink and brown match?”
Cassie giggled. “I like it.”
“Well, now it’s got you . . . so it’s complete.” He put a hand on her back and patted lightly. “If you need anything, you gotta let me know. I don’t know much about girls.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t really need anything, Nick. I hope you don’t think I want you to buy me things now, because you’re going to adopt me.”
Nick smiled down at her. “Of course I don’t, Cass.”
“But you keep talking about taking me shopping.”
“Just for stuff you need.”
“I think you think I need a lot more than I really need,” she said.
He sat down on her bed and took one of her hands in his. “If I do,” he said gently, meeting her eyes, “it’s because I know that more than anything in the world, you want to be with your family, and I know I can’t give you that. It’s called overcompensation.”
“Oh . . . you don’t have to overcon . . . overcons . . . you don’t have to do that, Nicky.” Then she made a face and blushed as though she’d said a bad word, covering her mouth for a moment. “I mean . . . I mean, Nick.”
He smiled. “You can call me Nicky if you want to, princess,” he replied.
She looked thoughtful. “But Miss Emily said I should address you respectfully. She said nicknames weren’t respectful.”
Nick’s heart warmed at how seriously she took her new little family. “You can call me Nicky if you want to,” he repeated. “Didn’t you ever call your father Daddy?”
She nodded a little. “Yeah.”
“See? Same thing. I think being respectful is important, but it has a lot more to do with how you treat people than it has to do with what you call them.”
She nodded. “You and me’ll make a good team,” she said, repeating her sentiments from when the two of them had originally discussed their new arrangement.
Nick held out his fist for her to bump, and she did. “You’re damn right!” he declared. When Cassie made a face at his curse, he blushed. “I probably oughtn’t have said that.”
Affecting wide-eyed innocence, she asked, “Said what?”
He laughed just as the doorbell rang. “You wanna get that, princess?” he asked, knowing exactly who it was.
She nodded and raced down the stairs to the entryway. Nick followed.
When Cassie opened the door, a very tall gentleman stood before her, with a wrinkled face, kind dark eyes, and gray hair. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, smiling at her. “I’m looking for a Miss Cassie McBride.”
She looked up the stairs, where Nick stood smiling down on her. He didn’t seem to think anything was amiss, so she turned back to the gentleman. “I’m Cassie.”
“Oh – excellent. Miss Cassie, my name is Bill. I’m Nick’s dad.”
With a smile she shook the hand he held out and then invited him inside the house. “Nick told me a lot about you.”
As he stepped into the entryway, bringing his suitcase with him, he smiled warmly down at her. “He’s told me a lot about you, too, but he never said you were so pretty.”
Cassie blushed furiously. “Thanks,” she whispered with a bigger smile and a giggle.
Nick descended the stairs then, shaking his head at his father. They embraced when he reached the bottom, and then the younger Stokes invited the elder to have a seat in the living room.
“Absolutely. Ladies first,” he said to the newest member of his family, gesturing toward the hall.
She led them to the living room and took a seat on the sofa. Nick settled next to her, and Bill, who brought his suitcase with him, set his long and lanky frame down in the wing-backed chair facing them.
“So, Miss Cassie, what has Nick told you about our family?”
She smiled and stole a glance at Nick. “Um . . . well . . . he said he’s the youngest of seven and everyone’s a triplet but him. And he told me you’re a supreme court judge and his mom was a district attorney and she makes the best brownies in Texas.”
“That’s right – probably the best in the world,” he said with a wink. “She’s comin’ the day after tomorrow to meet you and she couldn’t be more happy about it. But . . . .” he paused to open up his suitcase, removing a Tupperware container, and handed it across the coffee table to her. “She wanted you to have these today.”
She accepted the container and set it on her lap, opening it. With a grin, she looked up at Nick, and then at Bill. “Did she make these?”
“Miss Cassie, my wife would rather perish than send her favorite son brownies that someone else made.”
“Thank you,” she said brightly. Then she turned to Nick. “Can I have one?”
“Only if you give me one,” he replied. “I’ll get the milk.”
While Nick busied himself in the kitchen, Cassie looked shyly up at Bill. “How come he’s his mom’s favorite?”
“Because Nicky was born prematurely – do you know what that means?” When Cassie nodded, he continued. “Now I know he’s a big man today, but until he was about ten he had a hard time growing and he was just skin and bones. He couldn’t stay warm and was always sick and that meant he spent a lot of time at home with us. His mama’s favorite thing was to make brownies with him. My favorite thing was to take a blanket and sit on the couch with him and watch re-runs of a western called The Cisco Kid.”
Nick was back in the room with three glasses of milk, which he set on the coffee table. “Best show in the history of television,” he said, sitting down. “Hand over the brownies, Cassie – Cisco’s been waitin’ to tear into those for at least six hours.”
“Who’s Cisco?” she asked as she passed Bill the Tupperware.
“Nicky calls me Cisco,” replied the older gentleman as he accepted the container and extracted a brownie. “The western was about a pair of cowboys – Cisco and Pancho – who rode around the west, righting wrongs and fighting crime. I still remember the day he looked up at me from where he was wrapped up in that blanket so small, and he said, ‘Dad, you’re Cisco, and I’m Pancho.’ He was no more than five, and since that day he’s called me Cisco.”
“And he’s called me Pancho,” added Nick, taking a bite of his brownie. Then he gestured to Cassie with it, and with a mouth full, said, “They’re good, aren’t they?”
She nodded, her eyes even brighter. “Really good,” she replied as she reached for her milk. “Do you think she’ll show me how to make them? I really like to bake.”
Bill laughed. “She’d like nothing better, I’m sure.” He sipped his milk, and then said, “And speaking of Cisco and Pancho, I brought something for you, too.” He set his glass down and reached into his suitcase again, extracting a box that had been tucked into it, and handed it to Nick.
The younger Stokes accepted the box curiously, and a smile broke out on his face when he registered what his father had given him. “They have this on DVD now?” he asked as he accepted it, his eyes bright. “Wow.”
Cassie leaned over and looked at the cover. “Is that the western?”
“Yeah,” he replied, a little awed. “This must be all six seasons.”
“Your mother packed this for you, too,” said Bill, reaching into the suitcase again. As Nick looked up he saw his father pull out a tattered black and yellow afghan and set it on the coffee table between them.
“Oh my god – that’s my woobie!” He set the DVD box down and collected the blanket from the table, holding it to his nose. He inhaled the scent of the Downy that his mother always used; it made him chuckle. “I had no idea that she kept this.”
“She keeps everything,” Bill reported.
“What’s a woobie?” asked Cassie, her nose squished up.
“It’s his blanket,” explained Bill, smiling. “The one we’d sit on the couch with.”
Nick was touched and returned his father’s quiet smile. Consciously he knew it had been his mother who’d thought to pack the blanket and most likely had given her husband the idea of giving Nick the DVDs, but it didn’t change the fact that he adored his father and any affection from him meant the world to Nick.
Cassie’s little hands collected the blanket from Nick, and she spread it out over their laps. “It’s for us now,” she said, curling into his side. And though it was not Bill’s intention for this to happen, he understood that a baton had been passed. His son had become a father – in an unconventional way, to be sure, but he was a father nonetheless. While he’d always wanted his sons to have sons of their own, when he looked at Cassie gazing up at Nick, with those big, blue eyes that Jillian would fall for on the spot, he knew it didn’t matter. He recognized the fact that the little girl was already working her way into his heart, by no other means than the fact that she quite obviously loved Nick. And really, that was all he’d ever wanted for his son.
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(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
