Together Alone Read Free

their old life, the seeds of his future.
    Besides, if he hadn’t taken her then, he might have lost his nerve.
    Which was a joke, given what he did for a living. He was known for his calm under fire, but hell, the police academy hadn’t prepared him for fatherhood. As detectives went, he was street-smart and quick, but neither of those things impressed Julia, and as for his shield, she’d as soon bury it in cereal as cower before it.
    Brian knew what it was to see the seedy side of life, then go home, close the door, and shower it away. But there was no showering Julia away. She was his for the forseeable future. Taking her from her grandmother in Chicago was the most daring thing he had done in his life.
    “A burger and fries,” the waitress sang, setting a platter before him. He smiled his thanks, but didn’t move. Julia continued to drink. He knew that she was perfectly capable of sitting up, tipping her head back, and holding the bottle herself, but she seemed content.
    And so, for that brief moment, was he.
    But the moment passed. Julia finished the bottle, sat on the booster seat beside him, and ate pieces of the hamburger he offered, but she was tired. Normally neat, she grew messy and whiney. She rubbed at her eyes with ketchupy hands. She said words that Gayle would have known, but that meant nothing to Brian. He tried to pacify her with more milk, but she wasn’t having any part of it—or with the Coke he had ordered for himself—and when she started crying, “Mommmmy—mommmmy,” he lost his appetite.
    Swinging her into his arms, he paid the bill and started back toward the Jeep, only to set her down again when the squirming resumed.
    It was warm out. The air was still, heavy with the ripe smell of trees and grass and so different from where he had been that he wondered if this was an omen, too. He had never particularly wanted to live in the country, but it seemed the best choice, given the circumstances. He needed a sane place to raise Julia. He needed a peaceful place to heal.
    Julia began to whimper again.
    He swung her up. “What is it, sweetie?”
    “Mom-my.”
    “Mommy isn’t here, but Daddy is. Everything’s going to be just fine. See? Here’s the Jeep, right where we left it.” And intact—which was a city thought if ever there was one—but not so dumb, given that the vehicle held the sum of his most precious earthly possessions. Not to mention paraphernalia for Julia, her favorite crackers and juice, and the stuffed rabbit that she refused to sleep without.
    Brian’s mind lingered on crackers and juice and his own belly, which would undoubtedly speak up several hours hence. Julia’s crackers and juice wouldn’t do the trick. He had tried the night before.
    So he returned to the drugstore and bought a party-size bag of cheddar popcorn, three Heath Bars, and a six-pack of apricot nectar. He was turning to leave, with Julia under one arm and his purchases under the other, when a round of squeals drew his attention to the back of the store.
    A photo booth stood there, its half-curtain drawn, and beneath and behind, more legs than he could sort out and count. He grinned. He remembered that fun.
    The squeals came again, high laughter followed by a flash of light and the frenzied repositioning of legs. The laughter rang out, the legs froze, the light flashed, then it all began again. When it was done, six preteens tumbled from the booth.
    Brian wasn’t sure how they had all fit in, but they seemed happy and healthy, and the activity suddenly struck him as such a throwback to an earlier time, such a refreshing change from a world of video arcades and computer massacres, that he couldn’t resist.
    Tucking the paper sack into the booth, he dug in his pocket for change, and slid in with Julia on his lap. “Grammie will love this,” he told her, and tried to push her curls into some semblance of order. “If we smile for the camera, she’ll see that we’re doing just fine. Isn’t that a