Author: M. L. Hamilton
Date: 2017-05-10 00:00:00+00:00
Description: For Jaguar, the lure of the lights and the crowds has filled his years since leaving Sequoia, but even the brightest lights fade. When his mother falls ill, he puts his career on hold to help her, but coming home after so much time away has its own pitfalls. Jaguar’s return creates a clash with his estranged father and a past lover who has secrets she’s been hiding for five years. In the face of his personal turmoil, Jaguar is forced to make a choice between the boy he was and the star he became. Even more so, he has to decide between fame and family.
Publisher: Createspace

Jaguar

ML Hamilton
authormlhamilton.net

Jaguar

© 2017 ML Hamilton, Sacramento, CA

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

First print

All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

For those who strive to do right and for those who sometimes stumble, you are not alone.

Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.

~ Anne Roiphe

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1

“She’s not in the house!” shouted Henry. “I’ve looked everywhere and she’s not here.”

Jaguar dashed into the living room, his eyes immediately landing on the overstuffed recliner where his mother usually spent most of the day, watching game shows on the large screen television he’d bought her. The recliner was empty.

“What do you mean she’s not in the house?” he demanded of his father.

Henry held out his hands helplessly. “She was here. I went to get her lunch and now she’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere.”

Jaguar’s eyes snapped to the front door. It was closed, but the deadbolt had been turned. He ran toward it, yanking it open and peering down the walkway leading to the street. Bounding down the two stairs, he raced down the walkway, looking both ways for any sign of his mother. His heart was hammering in his ears and he had a strange feeling of weakness flowing through him.

“Do you see her?” called his father from the doorway.

“No! You wait here. Keep the cell phone close and I’ll call you if I see anything.”

“I was just in the kitchen for a few minutes. She couldn’t have gotten that far.”

Jaguar closed his eyes, saying a prayer to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore, and tried to calm himself enough to think through this. Where would she go? What did she like to do?

She and his father had moved here after Jaguar had “made it big”. He’d helped them buy the little rancher in a gated community and he’d believed that that would keep them safe. He hadn’t visited much the first few years they lived here. He’d been too busy touring with the band, going from state to state, a new city every night. He hadn’t realized what was happening to his mother until the first time his father called to say she was missing.

Where had she gone then? Think, he commanded himself. Think!

Panic wasn’t any good. Panic was the enemy. He rubbed his right temple with his fingers, then he pressed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Where would she go? What would she want to see? Do?

The park. With the ducks. He’d taken her there yesterday. She and his father walked there on good days, bringing stale bread to throw into the water. He turned right and began looping toward the small park in the middle of the gated neighborhood.

He paused at the edge of it, searching beneath the redwood trees for her, saying another prayer that she hadn’t gotten confused and fallen into the pond. A moment later, he spotted her, sitting on the bench at the edge of the pond, looking small and frail.

He bent over, bracing his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath. Maybe he should think about giving up smoking. At twenty-nine, he was too young to be this winded from a short jog. Gradually his heart slowed and he straightened, the flush of relief washing over him.

As he made his way around the lake to her, he thought of the woman she’d been. She’d had dreams of playing the violin in the symphony, but she’d wound up teaching music at the community college. He wondered if she even remembered those dreams now.

She wore a housedress and slippers, but he remembered when she was younger, she would never leave the house without her make-up perfectly applied, not a hair out of place. She’d been a fashionista before it was popular to be one. He could still hear the arguments she and his father had had over her spending on clothes.

He smiled, remembering how she’d never chastised him for his experimentations. His father hadn’t understood the piercings or the tattoos or the different colored hair, but she’d told him to be his best self. His best self. He’d never forget those words.

She looked up when he stopped before her. He’d gotten his blue eyes from her, a blue so pale it almost looked unnatural. Her hair had gone to white and floated around her head in a wispy cloud. Her once lovely face was lined, but it was the confusion that gave him a gut-check. She didn’t recognize him. Her son. Her only child.

“Mom?” he said, hoping that would spark something.

Her eyes moved down his body, over the sleeves of tattoos on his arms, over the many piercings in his ears. He was thinking of taking some of them out. It seemed a little silly for a man in his thirties to have more metal in his ears than cartilage.

She tilted her head. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Her eyes drifted away, taking in the redwood trees, the quiet, the soft sound of the ducks’ feet moving the water in the pond.

He sat down beside her, suddenly weary. It was a weariness so deep, he wasn’t sure how to conquer it. For so long, he’d worried only about himself, about the next concert, the next platinum record, the next high. Now it all seemed so senseless, so empty, so pointless. Maybe he was growing up.

“It’s a lovely day,” he repeated.

“I like to feed the ducks, but I don’t have any bread.”

He nodded. “I should have brought some.”

She looked at him. He could feel her scrutiny. “What’s your name again?”

“Jerome,” he said, hoping to jar an earlier memory before he’d become Jaguar. Before he’d become a cliché. Unfortunately, he had a hard time remembering who Jerome was. Maybe Alzheimer’s was in his future too, but Jerome seemed like a person from another lifetime. He’d picked Jaguar so many years ago, trying to be edgy. Jerome Jarvis just didn’t seem like a rockstar’s name, or that’s what Desmond, the band manager, had told him.

He’d worn Jaguar so long, he didn’t think he could be Jerome again. It was curious. There was the name your parents gave you at your birth and then there was the name you adopted as you became a full-fledged individual. For some, it was just a variation on their birth name, but for others, it meant a whole new identity. He’d become Jaguar.

“I always wanted to raise a duck,” his mother said. “They used to have ducklings at the feed store when I was a girl, but my parents said we didn’t have money for one.”

He glanced over at her. This was a new story he hadn’t heard before. “Really? Why did you want a duck?”

She furrowed her brow for a moment, then she smiled. “When they’re little, they imprint on you, then they’ll follow you around. I thought that would be so wonderful, to have something so loyal to me.”

“Why not a dog?” he asked, smiling at her.

“Oh, we could never have a dog. Clarence was allergic.”

Clarence, her brother, was younger by three years, but dead by fifty. He’d never lived long enough to get Alzheimer’s. Drunk driving had taken him and his wife one Christmas when the snow had fallen particularly heavy in Sequoia. He’d been leaving his sister’s house. Ida had never gotten over it, never stopped blaming herself for their deaths.

When she remembered.

Some things were better left forgotten, he decided.

His phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the display. His father. Shit. He should have called him. Now he was going to hear it. He thumbed it on and held it to his ear.

“Did you find her?” came Henry’s panicked response.

“Yeah, she’s in the park.” He kept his voice level, so he didn’t spook his mother. “She’s just watching the ducks. We’ll be back in a little bit.”

There wasn’t an immediate answer. Jaguar felt a tick in his right eye. He knew his father was gearing up for an explosion. “You found her and you didn’t call me,” Henry said in a low growl.

“I just found her,” said Jaguar, trying to head it off, but he already knew it was too late.

“I’ve been sitting here going out of my head imagining all sorts of things and you couldn’t take thirty seconds to call me and tell me she’s alive! This is how you’ve always been! You never think of anyone else! You are the most selfish…”

Jaguar disconnected the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. By the time he walked his mother to the house, Henry would be in control again. He didn’t like to upset his wife by screaming in front of her.

Ida was staring at him with a worried expression on her face. “That sounded unpleasant.”

Jaguar laughed. “It usually is.”

Her frown deepened. “What’s your name again?”

“Jerome,” he repeated.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it, Jerome?”

Jaguar looked at the pond, watching the ducks, turning the phone over in his hand. God, he hated this. He hated the fact that she didn’t remember having a son. All she seemed to remember was a younger time, a time before she was married and had a child, but maybe there was a sort of freedom to that. A sort of relief.

“It is a lovely day.”

Her eyes focused on his arms, on the tattoos that covered them. She laid a frail hand on his forearm, tracing the line of a music note.

“I used to play the violin.”

He looked over at her. “I know.”

“I was pretty good. I thought I might play for the symphony.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Her eyes drifted away, back out over the pond. “Things get in the way.”

Like getting married? Having a child?

He nodded. “They do.”

“I was afraid.”

He looked at her. He’d never heard her say that before. “You were afraid to play for the symphony?”

“What if I wasn’t good enough,” she whispered, then looked up at him. Her fingers continued to trace the music note. “Do you play music?”

“I do.”

“Do you ever worry you aren’t good enough?”

“All the time.”

She smiled at him and he smiled back. “All you can do is be your best self. That’s all you can do.”

Jaguar leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s what you’ve always told me,” he said.

Sitting on the bench next to her, her thin fingers pressed against his forearm, he watched the ducks swimming and he had to admit it was a lovely day.

*    *    *

“We need to think about the best plan for her,” Jaguar said to his father as they sat in the kitchen.

Ida had picked at the lunch his father prepared, then she’d wanted to take a nap. She was resting in her room, the door partially open so they could hear if she called to them. He needed to get to the hardware store, pick up another lock, one she couldn’t work so there wouldn’t be a repeat of today.

Henry washed dishes, his back to his son. Jaguar looked around the kitchen. He’d made sure they had the latest appliances, the finest dishwasher, stove, refrigerator, and yet his father preferred to wash dishes by hand. He wasn’t going to argue with him about that. He’d learned to pick his battles with this man because so often the battles found him.

Living in suburbia. He shuddered. He was used to hotel rooms, limos, bodyguards. He wasn’t used to doing these menial chores or watching others do them. He’d thought coming back here, immersing himself in his past might help him get out of his funk, help him create the edgy music he’d once wrote, but his days were occupied with minutia. Part of him resented it as he had when he was a teenager, and part of him felt reluctant to leave.

“I’m gonna have to get back to LA, Dad,” he said.

Henry slammed the cabinet door shut, whirling on him. For a man in his sixties, he was trim and fit. He had a head of grey hair, but it was thick, which gave Jaguar hope for his own hair. There was nothing frail about Henry. He’d only retired early to take care of his wife, but Jaguar suspected he’d still be driving a forklift for the warehouse store if she hadn’t needed him. Early onset Alzheimer’s had affected all their lives.

“And you want to just shove her into an old folks’ home so you can wash your hands of the problem.” Henry’s face twisted with disgust as he looked at his son. “Go back to LA. We don’t need your help. We don’t need anything from you.”

Jaguar rose. He and Henry were almost the exact same height, just shy of six feet. “I’m trying to help.”

“This isn’t helping! I had it under control all this time and you come in thinking we should just do what you say.”

“She got out of the house. She’s gotten out of the house three times over the last week with both of us here. What are you going to do when I’m back in LA?”

“Same thing we’ve always done. Live our lives. Why don’t you get it? We don’t want you here anymore than you want to be here. You left when you were eighteen. Well, don’t come back here thinking we need you to fix anything. Just go live your life, do your drugs, sleep with your women. Stop pretending you give a damn about any of this!”

Jaguar reared back. True, his father wasn’t saying anything that he didn’t already know he felt, but this attack felt particularly personal. He opened his mouth to fight back, then something struck him for the first time.

Henry was afraid. He knew what Jaguar knew. They couldn’t go on like this. They were going to have to make a decision about his mother. Jaguar reached for the keys in his pocket.

“I’m going to the hardware store. I’m gonna get another lock for the door.”

Henry didn’t answer. He dropped his eyes to the floor, then returned to his dishwashing.

Jaguar walked into the hallway and looked in on his mother. He could only see the white cloud of her hair and hear her soft breathing. He fought with himself for a moment. He wanted to get a joint out of his room where he’d hidden it in the dresser, but he’d been trying to quit.

He couldn’t seem to write music anymore and he’d worried first that his cushy lifestyle was affecting it, but now he feared it might be the pot and alcohol. They had a tendency to dull his ambition. He just wasn’t as hungry as he once was for the fame. And it was easier to blame the illicit substances than it was to face the fact that maybe fame was wearing on him. Maybe, God help him, he was growing up.

He’d tried working a menial job like he’d done when he was in high school, but people had flocked to see him, turning the job into another affirmation of his fame. It didn’t help that his two bodyguards had run interference for him the entire time, or that they drove him to and from the job in a limousine.

A few weeks ago, he’d sent them back to LA with his manager. He’d also banished the limo, but he still couldn’t write. At first he’d told himself he was suffering from the trauma of the events that happened a few weeks ago, but he knew he was lying to himself. The songs just weren’t coming.

He pulled the door half-closed and forced himself to turn away from the temptation of smoking himself into oblivion. Striding to the front door, he went out and climbed into the Honda Civic his parents kept. Starting the car always gave him a little moment of panic. Once he’d moved to LA, he’d stopped driving. He’d bought the limo and had one of his bodyguards drive it for him. At first that had seemed the surest way to prove he’d made it. Then it had become a habit. He hadn’t driven himself in so long, the act of getting behind the wheel kicked his anxiety into high gear.

Not that Sequoia had the traffic of LA. He drove out of the gated community and pulled onto the highway, his thoughts returning to his mother. He hated the thought of putting her in a home. Maybe he could talk his father into relocating to LA. His condo was big enough for the three of them and he could hire a full-time nurse.

His band, Anaconda, might not be selling albums like it had, but he was a savvy businessman. He’d invested wisely. He’d never trusted anyone else to do it for him. He lived extravagantly, but for all the toys and gadgets he’d bought, he’d invested an equal share in his own solvency. If Anaconda never had another hit, he would be fine. Financially fine, he thought. He wasn’t sure about the rest.

Without Anaconda, he didn’t really know what to do with himself. He’d never liked school. He didn’t really have any hobbies. He didn’t ski or surf or enjoy sports of any kind. He couldn’t see himself running a business. Sure, playing barista for a few days had been fun, but he couldn’t see doing that for the rest of his life.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think about anything else. His past had recently returned to bite him in the ass, but he just didn’t know how to deal with everything that had happened yet. His mother was taking all of his concentration right now.

The rest he’d deal with once the test results came back. The rest he’d deal with when he had no other choice. Right now it was just too much.

He pulled into the parking lot a short walk from the hardware store and climbed out. Pressing the button on his keychain to lock the car, he glanced toward the Caffeinator, the coffee shop he’d recently worked in, but he didn’t head in that direction. If he set foot in the Caffeinator, a crowd would follow him and he didn’t need that right now.

Turning left he headed for the hardware store. The glass door read the Hammer Tyme. He pulled it open and heard the buzzer sound. A moment later Tate Mercer, the store owner and part-time deputy, stepped out of the back room. His eyes lit with recognition.

“Jaguar, what can I do for you?”

An older man followed Tate out. He wore a ball cap and had a bit of a belly.

Tate motioned to him. “This is Bill Stanley. He works afternoons for me.”

Jaguar nodded, pushing up the sleeves on his shirt. “Nice to meet you.”

Bill gave him that same look that older people had been giving him for years – who is this freak? Jaguar had stopped worrying about it some time ago, but for just a moment, he wondered if removing some of the piercings wouldn’t help.

He blinked a few times. What the hell was happening to him? He’d never been one to conform to society before. “I need a lock.” He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “My mom...um, she gets out.” He looked up into Tate’s nonjudgmental gaze. He liked Tate Mercer. He’d always treated him as an equal. He knew about Jaguar’s mother because it had come up in the investigation into Merilee Whitmire’s death.

He didn’t like to think about the girl who had died. He still felt guilty for it. He shoved that thought away.

Tate nodded. “You have a deadbolt already, right?”

“Right.”

Tate led him over to the section of the store where the locks were stored. “Maybe we need something a little more challenging to open.”

He looked at the locks that Tate was pointing to, but his attention was distracted by Bill Stanley who stood before the counter, following his every move. Did he think Jaguar was going to steal from them?

“So I think this would be your best bet.”

Jaguar forced his attention back to the locks. He hadn’t heard much of what Tate said. He took the lock the other man held out to him and turned it over, scanning the back. He wasn’t much of a handyman, but he and his father should be able to figure out how to install it.

Tate shifted weight. “Is she getting worse?”

Jaguar’s eyes snapped to his face. “What?”

“Your mom. Is she getting worse?”

Jaguar sighed. “She’s not getting better, but my father won’t entertain any other options. I’ve got to go back to LA at some point and I hate leaving him to deal with this by himself, but we just don’t see the world the same.” He shot a look at Bill Stanley, who had his arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face. “But then I guess my dad isn’t the only one who doesn’t get me.”

Tate glanced at his worker, then focused on Jaguar again. “I could come out and help you install this, if you want?”

“Thanks. I’d actually appreciate it. I could pay you for your time.”

Tate waved that off. “Totally not necessary. I got a mother too and I’d want to make sure she was safe.”

Jaguar gave him a faint smile. Funny thing was he wasn’t sure how to keep his mother safe. This whole disease was beyond him and definitely beyond his father, but Henry wouldn’t admit it. Or couldn’t. Maybe that was what it was. As hard as it was for Jaguar to see his mother lose herself, it must be just as hard for Henry to lose his lifelong companion.

“Then I owe you a beer.”

“Sounds good,” Tate said, motioning toward the counter. “I can come out tomorrow afternoon if that works for you. Both Bill and Logan will be working then.”

“Sure,” said Jaguar, setting the lock on the counter as Tate moved toward the cash register. He could feel Bill Stanley’s eyes follow him as he waited for Tate to ring up the sale.

“You said you’re going back to LA?” asked the older man. “When?”

Tate went still, but Jaguar turned to face Bill. “As soon as I can, Mr. Stanley,” he said with false politeness.

Bill just nodded.

“Although, you know, I was raised here.” He returned his attention to Tate. “Lived here most of my life. I own property here and my family is here.” His gaze lifted to Stanley again. “Sometimes I think it might be nice to come home again.”

“Naw,” said Bill. “You’d be much happier going back to LA, I’m sure.”

Tate punched some buttons on the register. “Can you go see if we have any potting soil in back, Bill?” he said, an edge evident in his voice.

Bill nodded, slowly moving toward the counter to lift it and walk into the storeroom behind the register. He kept his eyes on Jaguar the entire way, but Jaguar ignored him, taking out his wallet and removing his credit card.

After he was gone, Tate shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s just part of the old guard.”

Jaguar shrugged. “I’ve dealt with his kind all my life. Shit, my father is his kind. Don’t worry about it.”

Tate ran the card and handed it back. “You’re always welcome in this store.”

Jaguar gave a laugh. “Thanks, but maybe I’ll make sure I come in the morning from now on. Isn’t that when you said the kid works?”

“Logan, yeah. He’s doing mornings until school starts again in September. Then he’ll switch to afternoons.”

“Well, by then, I’ll be back in LA.” He took the bag Tate held out to him. “I guess you know where I’m staying, right?”

“Right.” Tate had come to his parents’ house and stopped a tragedy from happening.

He forced the thought down again. He knew he’d have to deal with it at some point, but he just couldn’t deal with it now. He needed to figure out what to do about his mother.

“See you sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“I should be able to get away around noon,” answered Tate. “That’s when Bill and Logan overlap.”

“See you then,” Jaguar said, stepping away from the counter, then he walked to the door without looking back, but he had a feeling that Bill Stanley watched him until the last moment. He almost flipped him off, but thankfully, he stopped himself. No use stooping to the older man’s level if he could help it.

CHAPTER 2

Jaguar cradled the coffee mug in his hand and scrubbed his eyes with his other hand, then he pressed the icon on the phone. His mother wandered into the kitchen, shuffling around in her slippers and bathrobe, her hair squashed on one side. This was one of the bad days, Jaguar knew. He’d heard his father pleading with her earlier to eat something, but she hadn’t. The bad days were getting closer and closer to each other.

The line connected and Desmond Hifler’s bloated face filled the screen. “Jaguar!” he boomed, causing Ida to jump. Her frightened gaze searched the room for the sound. Jaguar held up the phone.

“It’s just the phone, Mom,” he said.

She focused on him, the confusion on her face deepening. It was a day she didn’t remember him, a day she’d forgotten she had a son. He tried to ignore the hurt he felt. He knew it was irrational. It wasn’t her fault, but God help him, some part of him wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if she’d died rather than this.

“Hey, Desmond,” he said, deliberately dropping his voice.

“I’m glad you called. I thought we could discuss some stuff. I talked with the other guys and we’re thinking it’s time for a greatest hits album.”

Jaguar frowned. Greatest hits album? Those usually came out when a band was finished. What was Hifler trying to tell him? His attention was snagged as his mother went to the refrigerator and opened it, peering inside.

“Wait. Why are we talking about that?” he asked Hifler.

“It’s just another gun in our arsenal,” the manager said. “How’s the song writing coming along?”

Tate glanced up as Ida took the egg carton out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter by the stove. He wondered what his father was doing. He’d heard the shower running earlier, but Henry wasn’t one to waste water unnecessarily. Surely he had to be done by now.

“Good,” he said. “I’ve got some ideas. Look, Desmond, why are you guys talking about a greatest hits album?”

“It’s a great way to get Anaconda on people’s minds again. You know, push your best stuff so when the new stuff comes out people are hungry for it again.”

Ida set milk on the counter by the eggs, then she left the refrigerator open and went to the pantry, pulling open the door and stepping inside. Jaguar picked up the phone and carried it with him as he went to close the refrigerator door.

“So how many songs do you have written?” asked Hifler.

Jaguar hadn’t written a damn thing. “A few,” he lied, trying to see what his mother was doing in the pantry, but her back was to him. He went into the living room and crossed to the hallway, listening for his father. He could still hear the shower running.

“When are you coming back to LA?”

Jaguar looked down into the phone, then he took a seat on the couch. “I’m not sure. I’m trying to get my dad to realize he can’t keep taking care of Mom by himself…”

“Hold up, Jaguar,” said Hifler, lifting a hand. “I got another call coming in. Can I put you on hold for a moment?”

Jaguar shrugged. “Sure,” he said, but before he’d even finished, Hifler was gone, the call disconnected. He rose to his feet and shoved the phone into his pocket. What the hell! There was a time when Desmond Hifler would drop everything when Jaguar called. Once he’d even stepped out of the delivery room on his wife to take Jaguar’s call.

Walking back to the kitchen, he turned the corner, his eyes widening in alarm.

His mother stood in the middle of the room, staring at the stove. She’d put a pan on the burner and poured oil into it, then turned on the gas. Fire had licked up the side of the pan and ignited in the oil pooled in the center of it, flames shooting upwards.

Jaguar grabbed his mother’s shoulders, pulling her back as he dashed into the pantry, searching for the lid. Suddenly the fire alarm went off, the claxon shrieking. Jaguar ran out of the pantry, just as his father came running from the hallway. Slapping the cover over the pan, Jaguar wrenched the knob to off, killing the gas.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he turned to find his mother curling into his father’s arms, her hands over her ears. Henry’s eyes were wild with fury. Jaguar calmly walked to the kitchen window and opened it, while the alarm continued to shriek.

Ignoring the accusatory look from his father, he slumped into his chair at the kitchen table, lifted his coffee mug, and took a sip. Hello morning.

*    *    *

Jaguar handed Tate a beer and took a seat on the steps next to him. Tate lifted the beer to his mouth and took a sip, then he went back to putting his tools away.

“I appreciate you helping me out today,” Jaguar said, sipping at his own beer.

“No problem. That should keep her from getting out.” He closed the tool box and set it on the stair before him, then reached for the beer. He gave Jaguar a sideways look. “I mean…”

Jaguar shook his head. “I know what you mean.” He braced his arms on his thighs and held the beer in both hands, turning it. “She used to play violin. She was good enough to play for the symphony.”

“That’s where you get your music talent.”

Jaguar nodded. “But I was never as good as she was.” He glanced over his shoulder at the house. “How does this happen to someone? How do they lose who they are?”

“I don’t know, but it must be scary for her too.”

“I know it is. You should have seen her this morning when the fire alarm went off.”

“We could put alarms on the doors. That way you’d be notified if she tries to open them.”

Jaguar chewed on his bottom lip, thinking about it. Alarms on the doors, locks on all the windows, next a lock on the stove. He and his father weren’t going to win this battle. He could see her deteriorating daily. The drugs that had seemed so promising weeks ago did nothing to stop the progression of this disease.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said, taking a swig of beer. “Actually, it’s not a good idea. We can’t keep doing this.” The anger he felt at his father washed over him. Why couldn’t he face reality?

Tate fussed with the label on the bottle. “How are you going to go back to LA?”

“I don’t know.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Not that there’s anything for me there either. I called Desmond this morning and he disconnected the call.”

Tate looked over at him. “Really?”

“He’ll probably say it was an accident, but he hasn’t bothered to call me back.”

“Do you want to go back to LA?”

Jaguar looked out at the quiet street. He’d thought moving his parents to a gated community was such a good idea, but he always had the feeling people were watching him through the drapes, keeping an eye on Ida and Henry’s tattooed rockstar son.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about it.” He met Tate’s gaze. “I’ve had plenty here to occupy my mind.”

Tate made a grunt of amusement. “I guess so.”

Jaguar shrugged. “When I was a teenager, this place seemed so stifling. I hated living here. I hated saying I was from Podunk, California. Going to LA was like going to Mecca.”

Tate laughed, lifting his bottle to his mouth. “And here I couldn’t wait to get away from LA.”

Jaguar shook his head. “People are just screwed up, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out his legs. “Everyone’s got baggage, Jaguar. Everyone’s got issues.”

“I know. Some more than others.”

“True.”

“So here’s how screwed up I am. This stuff is happening with my mom, but all I keep thinking about, all I keep worrying about is what if it happens to me. What if I start forgetting things when I’m sixty?” He swigged the beer. “I should be worried about her. I should be thinking about what she’s going through, but here I am worried about me. That’s messed up.”

“It’s honest,” said Tate. “It’s understandable. I’d be worried about it too. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel for your mom, it just means you’re human.”

Jaguar rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess.”

Tate finished off his beer and pushed himself to his feet. Walking down into the yard, he crossed to the side of the house and fussed with the garbage cans to open the bear lock, then he tossed the empty bottle inside. He came back and picked up the tool box. “I better get back to the shop.”

Jaguar held out a hand and Tate shook it. “Thanks for the help and the talk.”

“No problem. Let me know if you want to install some alarms on the doors.”

“I will.”

Tate lifted a hand, then turned and walked down to his truck parked on the street. He climbed behind the wheel and the truck rumbled to life. Jaguar watched it drive away, but he didn’t move. He didn’t want to go back into the house. He didn’t want to argue with his father or tiptoe around his mother, but there was no where else for him to go.

He thought about getting his guitar and trying to write some songs, but that didn’t appeal to him. He thought about getting another beer, but he knew that was just a crutch. He thought about calling a taxi to take him to San Francisco for a few days, get away from here and clear his head, but he knew he couldn’t do that. His mother had almost burned the house down this morning.

He watched the mail truck pull up to the curb and the full-figured mail carrier climbed out. She came around the front of the truck, holding letters in her hand, and waved to him. He waved back and watched her put their mail in the mailbox, then go around and climb into the truck again. A moment later she pulled up in front of the house next door and repeated the process all over again.

He waited until she’d disappeared around the corner before he rose and deposited his own beer bottle in the trash, then he ambled down the walkway and opened the mailbox, taking out the stack of letters.

Sorting them as he walked, he found bills with his father’s name on them, a few advertisements, and some credit card offers in both of his parents’ names. Awesome. Give the woman who couldn’t remember she had a son a credit card.

He opened the door on the house and found his father reading the paper on the couch. His parents were the only people he knew who still took a paper. Henry looked up as he entered, then went back to reading. Jaguar was just as glad. He’d avoided a fight with Henry this morning, but he knew one thing could set him off again.

He continued sorting, laying his father’s letters on the coffee table, then his hands stilled, his eyes widening. One envelope was addressed to Jerome Jarvis. Looking at the return address, his mouth went dry. He felt Henry’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up.

Staring at the return address, he walked into the hallway and headed for his room. Once inside, he turned the envelope over and stared at the back of it, but he didn’t open it. His hands trembled and his stomach roiled.

Placing the letter on his dresser, he backed away from it. The return address mocked him where it lay. DNA Diagnostic Center of Visalia. Closing his eyes, he fought the urge to get the joint out of his drawer, but the need was overpowering.

Yanking open the drawer, he searched through the t-shirts until he located it, then he grabbed his wallet and placed the joint inside. Taking his keys, he snagged a jeans jacket off the bedpost and headed for the door.

Henry looked up as he moved toward the front door with its shiny new lock. “Where are you going?” his father demanded.

“Out,” he said, yanking the door open. Away, he wanted to say. As far away from that envelope as he could go. He shut the door behind him and started down the walkway, turning right to head for the gate. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he pulled up a search engine, looking for a taxi company.

For the first time since he’d sent them back to LA, he missed Maddog and Bruno, his bodyguards, and he missed the limo. If he had it now, he could start drinking right away and drinking is what he needed.

*    *    *

The taxi deposited him at the Rollicking Robin, a country bar at the edge of town. He stared at the low-slung building with its sloped roof, lack of windows, and cedar siding. The parking lot was filled with pickup trucks of every size and not a few of them flew American flags out of their beds.

He brushed a hand through his spiky blond hair and headed toward the door. As he pulled it open, the twang of country music bled out, along with a sour smell of spilled beer and too many bodies in too close quarters. He almost backed out, but he had nowhere else to go.

The interior had wooden floors, tall bar tables, and leather stools. A few booths sported horsehair benches and the tabletops were plexiglass with beer labels affixed under them. He was surprised at how many people were in here, but looking at his phone, he realized it was nearly 4:00. He’d wandered around for a good couple of hours, sitting on the bench where he’d found his mother and smoking his joint.

He felt mellow and fluid as he took a seat at the bar. Now he just needed to drink enough to forget what waited for him at home. A blond woman with hair teased up high on her head and double-D breasts that nearly escaped the top of her t-shirt approached him.

“What’ll you have, darlin’?” she asked him.

“Whatever you have on tap.”

She went to pour him his beer. Jaguar realized that most people in the bar were watching him, but he ignored them, staring at his own reflection in the mirror over the bar. His eyes were bloodshot. Pot always did that to him and his cheeks were flushed. Smoking always made him cough and a tickle troubled the back of his throat. He knew it wasn’t good for his vocal chords, but what the hell! It’s not like he had a singing career anymore.

She set the beer in front of him. He dug a twenty out of his pocket and slapped it on the bar. She eyed him a moment, then she reached for the bill. “Aren’t you that Jaguar guy? The rockstar?”

He sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”

She frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

“Tonight, I’m just a guy who wants to drink beer.”

She rolled her eyes and walked away to make change. He picked up the beer and downed a fourth of it. Two cowboys sitting a few seats away from him were eying him in the mirror over the bar. He ignored them, concentrating on the music playing from the speakers in the corners. The twang of the guitar matched the twang in the singer’s voice. Maybe Anaconda could do a country album. They’d never tried that before, but he thought he could probably write a few country songs. Or else he was stoned because he hadn’t been able to write anything in a damn long time.

The bartender brought the money back and placed it before him. He didn’t touch it.

“Why are you in here?” she asked him.

“I wanted a beer.”

“This doesn’t seem to be your sort of joint.”

He looked at the room in the mirror behind her. “It’s as good as any.”

She frowned again, then walked away. The two men a few seats away continued to stare at him. He wanted to say something snarky to them, ask them if they wanted a kiss, but he had enough self-preservation left to know they’d likely beat the shit out of him for that.

He finished off his beer. The bartender came back, setting another beer in front of him.

“Why’s this place called the Rollicking Robin?” he asked her.

She leaned a hip against the bar. “It used to be a blues joint, I hear.”

That didn’t really explain anything, but he reached for the second beer.

“So, I heard you went around in a limo and had bodyguards with you all the time,” she said.

“Yeah, they’re sitting outside.”

Her brows rose at that. He figured she probably knew they weren’t there, but he sensed it wasn’t a good idea to admit as much. “So, you got a name?”

“Yeah, it’s Brenda and I’m at least twenty years older than you, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Believe me, Brenda, I have not one single idea.” He tapped his temple. “That’s part of the problem. No ideas.” His gaze drifted to the two men. “So, what’s their problem?” He jerked his chin at their images.

Brenda turned and looked at the mirror, then she faced him again. “This is just a guess, darlin’, but I don’t suppose they’re any too excited to have a punk with piercings and suggestive tattoos in their establishment.”

“So they own the place?”

She laughed. “You got balls, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Today, it doesn’t feel like that.”

“Then you got a death wish?”

He pondered that for a moment. Did he have a death wish? He didn’t believe he did, but a part of him had always been a little prone to self-destruction. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

She gave him a troubled look and walked away. He gave her words a little more thought, running the fingers of one hand through the condensation on the glass. He was only half-aware as one of the men watching him rose and approached, leaning against the bar to his right.

“You play guitar?”

He looked over at the guy. “Yeah.”

The man was about fifty with broad shoulders and a big belly. He was at least six feet tall and wore cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, and jeans. His checkered shirt strained across his chest, the buttons nearly popping off. The man jerked his chin toward a small, wooden stage on the left side of the room. A few amplifiers and microphones were arranged there, along with a keyboard and an acoustic guitar. “Why don’t you show us what you can do?”

Jaguar looked at the arrangement, then back at the two men, both of whom had him by fifty pounds each. He didn’t feel like playing, but he also didn’t feel like getting the shit beat out of him. “I don’t know any country songs.” He had an instant flash to the scene from the Blues Brothers where they played the theme from Rawhide over and over again because they didn’t know anything else.

“Play your devil’s rock,” the man said.

Jaguar released his breath, then began coughing. He really needed to give up the pot. Picking up his beer, he polished it off. What the hell! He’d been performing for most of his life. It would certainly take his mind off his other problems.

He slid off the barstool and walked to the stage, realizing he was a little more unsteady on his feet than he should be after only two beers. He grabbed another stool closest to the stage and dragged it onto the wooden platform.

His two new buddies came over, carrying their pitcher of beer and glasses, taking a seat at a table near the stage. Jaguar marked they sat between him and the door. Shit. Brenda was right. He probably shouldn’t have come in here like this.

He sat down on the stool and picked up the guitar, running his fingers over the frets and plucking the strings. It was out of tune, so he spent a few moments trying to tune it. The country music that had been piping in through the speakers suddenly went silent, drawing more attention to him. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, but he forced his concentration to the instrument in his hands and started to play.

He lost track of time. Brenda brought him another beer and he downed it, then someone gave him a shot of tequila. He downed that too. He half-noticed that some women had positioned themselves around the stage, swaying to the music and giving him doe-eyes. He pulled one of the microphones over then and sang a few sad ballads, letting his natural showmanship take over. A full beer suddenly replaced the empty one and he didn’t know who was paying anymore. And he didn’t care. He had a pretty good buzz going and everything else had become distant and unimportant in his mind.

He figured he could just sit here all night, strumming someone else’s guitar and drinking someone else’s booze. The next time he looked up, he realized his vision was swimming. The man standing in front of him wore a tan sheriff’s department uniform, his hat tilted to the back of his head, his shoulders curved inward, and he had a thin moustache perched on the top of his lip.

Jaguar smiled. “Sheriff Wilson, you’re not gonna catch me smoking behind the gym. I already smoked it.” He was a little surprised to hear his words slur.

Wilson reached out and took his elbow. “Come on, son. I’m gonna take you home.”

Jaguar tried to set the guitar on its stand, but he missed. Wilson caught it before it fell and righted it. “I’m okay. I’ll jez take a taxi.” He stumbled into Wilson as he rose to his feet. “I sended the limo back to LA.”

“Uh huh,” said Wilson, tightening his grip as Jaguar stumbled off the stage.

“I gotta pay the bill.”

“It’s been paid.”

Jaguar shifted to look Wilson in the face. “Why are you here?”

“Brenda called me. She said you’d had enough and she was afraid someone was going to roll you. You’ve been flashing hundreds.”

That surprised him. He didn’t remember doing that. Wilson turned him toward the door. “What are you doing in a bar like this anyway, son? You’re lucky they didn’t kick your ass and throw you in the culvert out back.” Wilson pushed open the outer door and the cool night breeze brushed over Jaguar’s heated face.

“I jez wanted a beer. I didn’t drive. Then they asks me to play, so I played.”

“Uh huh.” Wilson opened the passenger door on his patrol vehicle. It was parked right across the front of the building.

Jaguar reared back. “I don’t wanna ride in a cop car. They’re not gonna like it in Shady Acres.”

“Shady Acres?”

“Where Mom and Pop live. They are not gonna wanna see a cop car in that neighborhood.” He stumbled into Wilson. “They don’t even let you park on the streetz.”

“Okay. Watch your head.” Wilson pushed him into the vehicle, putting a hand on his head to make sure he didn’t hit it.

Jaguar slumped in the seat, distracted by the lights on Wilson’s equipment, the sound of the police scanner. Wilson went around the front of the vehicle and climbed inside, shutting his door.

“You’re not gonna get sick on me, are you?” he asked Jaguar.

Jaguar waved him off. “I can hold my booze.”

Wilson sighed. “Let’s hope so,” he said and he started the car. “So what brought on this binge? I haven’t had any reports about you since you got back here. Why now?”

“She set the kitchen on fire,” he told Wilson, pointing at him. “Flames, fire alarm.” He held up both hands. “I was gone thirty seconds and she set the kitchen on fire.”

“Your mom?” Wilson pulled out of the parking lot, turning toward Sequoia.

Jaguar nodded. “And he won’t talk about getting help. I have to go back to LA.” He shifted and stared out of the window. “Except that bastard hung up on me.” He pointed a finger at his own chest. “He hung up on me. Me!”

“Who?” Wilson signaled and pulled onto the freeway.

“And then the envelope.” He closed his eyes for a moment and everything spun. He forced them open again. “I didn’t even open it.”

“What envelope?” The lights of the oncoming traffic illuminated Wilson’s features.

“Visalia DNA…um, DNA Visalia Diagnostic or Diagnosis or something.”

“The paternity test,” said Wilson.

Jaguar didn’t answer, just stared out the window at the black outline of the redwood trees. “This place iz pretty,” he said, bracing his chin on his hand. “You forget. You know. You forget it’z pretty.”

Wilson glanced over at him, but Jaguar didn’t have anything else to say.

CHAPTER 3

A coughing fit woke Jaguar, sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains, shining directly on his pillow. He scrunched his eyes shut tighter, rolling to his back, his temples hammering. A moment later he wished he hadn’t moved because his stomach rebelled, nearly dumping its contents.

He fought it down, keeping his eyes closed, breathing through his nose so he wouldn’t start coughing again. He definitely had to give up either the booze or the pot and the pot was easier to forgo.

He dozed for a while more, but the pressure in his bladder couldn’t be ignored any longer. He rolled to his side and dragged himself into a seated position, then he braced his head in his hands, pressing on his pounding temples. His mouth tasted like an ashtray. Okay, maybe giving up the booze wasn’t completely out of the picture either. He’d be thirty in six months and at the rate he was going, he’d need his first liver transplant by forty.

Opening his gritty eyes, his attention landed on the envelope. He’d never opened it. He had a vague memory of Sheriff Wilson bringing him home, walking him to the door where he fumbled for his keys. Finally, his father had opened it, glowering at him. Henry hadn’t said a thing, but the look he gave him was chastisement enough.

Well, he was in the habit of disappointing Henry. He’d been a disappointment to his father his whole life. Why not do it up in grand fashion and have the cops bring him home like they had when he was sixteen?

Bracing his hands on either side of himself, he thought about rising, but his stomach rebelled again. He blew out air until the nausea subsided, then he pushed himself to his feet and surprise, surprise, he remained upright.

Walking carefully to the door, he pulled it open and listened for sounds from his parents, but he heard nothing. Thankfully it was a short hobble to the bathroom. He just made it to the toilet before his stomach decided it had had enough and emptied itself with shocking violence.

He hung over the bowl until the spasms had subsided, then he grabbed toilet paper and wiped his mouth. After he relieved himself, he felt a little better. The throbbing had retreated to a rhythmic pounding with his heart. Bending over the sink, he rinsed his mouth three times, then brushed his teeth twice and opened the medicine cabinet, finding the bottle of aspirin. He dumped four into his hand, threw them to the back of his throat, and washed them down with water from the sink.

For a moment, he hung his head and gripped the basin, willing the aspirin to stay down. When the nausea subsided, he looked up into the mirror. His pale blue eyes were bloodshot, his skin clammy and grey looking, and his hair resembling a hedgehog. He turned on the water and cupped it in his hands, then he splashed it on his face, rubbed it across the back of his neck, and dragged his damp fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. The cold water eased the pounding in his temples.

He realized he’d removed his shirt and jeans the previous night. The tattoos on his arms and across the left side of his chest stood out starkly against his pale skin. He eyed the shower and wondered if he had the strength to hazard it, then figured it would have to wait until he had a cup of coffee in him.

He yanked open the bathroom door and stumbled across to his bedroom in his boxers, knowing that his father would be furious if he showed up in the kitchen in anyway but fully clothed. He tugged on a t-shirt and jeans, not bothering with socks, and went back out. His parents’ bedroom door was closed and he wondered what time it was.

Going into the kitchen, he marked that it was 9:00 by the clock over the kitchen sink. A few dishes lay in the sink itself and the coffee pot was half-full. He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and filled it, then carried it to the kitchen table and sank into a chair. His father’s paper lay on the tabletop, so he dragged that over to himself as he sipped at the hot coffee. Trying to read only made his head pound, so he braced it in his hands and stared at the photo of a big box store that was trying to buy its way into Sequoia.

He looked up as his father stopped in the doorway. The look on Henry’s face immediately told Jaguar he was in trouble. Henry’s jaw was taut and his hands were fisted at his sides. He’d never hit Jaguar. In all the years that Jaguar had been disappointing him, he’d never raised his hand, but Jaguar wasn’t sure today wasn’t the day.

“You come in here last night drunk! The sheriff had to bring you home! The sheriff!” Henry hissed, trying to keep his voice down so Ida wouldn’t hear.

“Good morning to you too, Pops,” Jaguar said, lifting the mug again. “Want some coffee?”

“Don’t be cute with me! Everyone on the street saw you brought home by a cop. What the hell is wrong with you?”

My father’s a prick, he wanted to say, but he didn’t feel like escalating things the way he had when he was a teenager. “Look, can we talk about this later? I have a bitch of a headache.”

“Later? Our neighbors saw you brought home by the sheriff! What am I supposed to say to them?”

“That I didn’t drive drunk.” He couldn’t help himself. Henry had always made it so easy to goad him. He sipped at the coffee some more and thought about eating toast.

“I won’t have this in my house! I won’t have the drinking and the drugs and the whoring.”

Jaguar looked up at him, but he didn’t respond.

Henry took a step closer to him. “This is my house!”

“Technically,” said Jaguar, leaning back in the chair, “it’s my house.”

Henry’s face got so red, Jaguar worried for a moment he might have a stroke. He wished he hadn’t said something like that. He shouldn’t be poking his father like this; it was wrong. There was enough tension between them as it was, he didn’t need to humiliate him.

Henry’s features contorted and he jabbed a finger toward the front door. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get out of my house now! You’re not wanted here. Go back to LA! Go back to your drugs and your whores and your loose living! Get out!”

“NO!” came a wail behind him.

Both Jaguar and Henry’s eyes widened in alarmed. Henry turned and reached for Ida, but she batted him away.

“Don’t say those things!” she sobbed, clutching a hand to her breast.

“Mom.” Jaguar rose to his feet.

“Don’t tell him to go away! He’s just a boy,” she told Henry, tears filling her eyes.

“Ida?” pleaded his father.

“No, you tell him to go away and what if he does! What if he leaves? I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand it if he left.”

Henry shot a frantic look at Jaguar, but Jaguar didn’t know what to do or say. He suddenly remembered another fight like this, another fight when he was eighteen and his father ordered him out of the house. He’d left and he’d never looked back. Was Ida reliving that or was this a reaction to today? There was never anyway to know.

“Ida, I’m sorry,” begged Henry, reaching out to her.

“No!” she slashed at him with her hand. “You can’t tell your son to leave. You can’t throw him out. He’ll go and I’ll never see him again. I’ll never see him!” She held out her arms to Jaguar.

Jaguar crossed around the table, moving between his father and mother. She caught his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Don’t listen to him! Don’t you leave this house!”

He put his arms around her. “I won’t, Mama,” he said. “I won’t leave.”

“If you go, I’ll never see you again. I couldn’t stand it. Please don’t listen to him.”

“I won’t go, Mama. I promise you. I won’t go.”

She enfolded him in her arms, pressing his head to her shoulder. Jaguar could feel every rib in her back through her bathrobe. She was skin and bones. Her hands stroked his hair as she crooned to him, begging him not to leave.

Glancing up, he saw his father turn and walk out of the room, not bothering to look back.

*    *    *

Jaguar sat on the bench in the park beside his mother, giving her bread from the bag they’d brought, watching her feed the ducks. She liked to hold it out to them, waiting for one of them to get brave enough to take it from her hand, then she’d giggle. He smiled watching her, trying to drive down the worry of how thin she was getting. It was like she was wasting away before him.

After the outburst this morning, Henry had gotten her showered and dressed. It was good to see her in something other than her bathrobe for a change. Jaguar and his father had tiptoed around each other, not daring to speak. They both were embarrassed by the outburst, by the fact that Ida had been forced to intervene.

Jaguar pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display. Hifler hadn’t called him back. He knew he should break down and call him again, but his pride wouldn’t let him. The man had hung up on him. Him. Who the hell did he think he was?

Not that Jaguar was any more settled about his options. The unopened envelope lay on his nightstand and his mother was deteriorating more rapidly than he’d thought. If they didn’t do something about her lack of appetite, she wasn’t going to make it to see the inside of a nursing home. And of course, there was his father. Jaguar didn’t remember a time when he’d gotten along with the man. When Jaguar was a child, Henry had worked nights, which meant he slept during the day. Then when Jaguar was a teenager, he’d spent as much time away from the house as he could to avoid the man. It was funny how two people could share DNA and yet be strangers to each other.

“It’s a beautiful day,” said Ida, leaning back on the bench and looking around. The ducks squabbled over the crumbs by her feet.

Jaguar smiled at her, thinking it was a beautiful day. Once he would have scoffed at spending time sitting on a bench in the shade, feeding ducks, but it seemed peaceful today. Ida laid her cool hand on his forearm.

“Your father just doesn’t get you,” she said softly, staring out over the pond. “He just doesn’t get people like us.”

“Like us?” he asked her. He realized he treasured the days when she remembered him, even if she thought he was still eighteen.

“Musicians. You know that saying about people dancing to their own drummer?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard it.”

She smiled at him again. “It means people like us. People who have music in their souls.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

She grew silent, thinking. He could feel her drifting away and he hated it. “I used to think it would be nice to think like he does. To just know things are facts and never question them. This is this, that is that.” Her attention shifted to the left and she leaned forward, a laugh bubbling out of her. “Do you see it?”

Jaguar looked to where she pointed. “See what, Mom?”

“The blue butterfly. Goodness, I haven’t seen one in years. It’s so pretty.”

Jaguar frowned. He didn’t see anything except trees and grass.

She leaned back, still looking at a spot that he didn’t see. “So pretty. Fragile. We need to protect them better or they’ll go away and never come back.” She fell silent, her chest rising with each breath. At her feet, the ducks continued to mill about, searching for scraps. Finally, she looked out over the lake again. “It’s such a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said.

“It is.”

“He means well. He’s a good man inside. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

Jaguar wanted to scoff. When he was younger he would have. Then Ida would tsk at him and tell him he wasn’t giving his father a chance. The arguments over this man were decades long. He’d always wondered what had held their marriage together.

“Mom, you said you could have played violin in the symphony. Do you remember telling me that?” He found himself holding his breath, praying she would stay with him just a little longer this time.

She made an amused sound. “What made you think of that?”

“You mentioned it the other day.”

“Did I?” She smiled at him, her hand still resting on his forearm. “I was that good. They told me I should audition. My music teacher and the conductor at the community college. They said I could make it. They had an open call one time. I was supposed to go to San Francisco.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, I was afraid. I didn’t think I was good enough. Then I met your father.” Her brow furrowed. “I knew from the moment I met him he would be a good husband. A good father.”

A bark of bitter laughter left Jaguar. She tightened her grip on his arm.

“Don’t be disrespectful. You’re young. You don’t know how hard it is. He just wants the best for you.”

That was definitely not true, but Jaguar wasn’t going to contradict her.

“He wants you to go to college. It’s why he rides you so about your grades.” She leaned closer to him. “That report card was awful. You have to admit.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it was awful.” He wasn’t sure which one, but it didn’t really matter. Pretty much all of them were.

“You’re a smart boy. Why don’t you apply yourself, just a little bit?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“It’s the music. It’s always in your head.”

Not anymore, he wanted to say, but he bit it back. “If you hadn’t met him, if you hadn’t met my father, would you have tried out for the symphony?”

She looked at the lake again. “There are things you do and things you don’t. It doesn’t really do any good to wonder about the things you don’t. I met your father and we had you and that’s all that matters now.”

“So you don’t regret it?”

“Regret? Oh, goodness, Jerome, what’s the point of regret? Life is so short, so fragile. Like a butterfly’s wings. Why waste it with silly things like regret?” She laid her head on his shoulder, falling silent as she stared over the lake. He allowed himself to relax, sitting next to her, just soaking up the moment, trying to hold in every part of it, and yet knowing it would fade.

“Goodness, it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said softly.

He rested his cheek on her cloud of white hair and exhaled. “Yes, it is,” he said.

*    *    *

When they got back to the house, his father met them at the door and urged her into the kitchen for a late day snack. As their eyes met, Jaguar knew his father understood she was wasting away in front of them. He was trying to hold it back with puddings and ice cream, but it was happening just the same.

His phone rang as he watched them shuffle off together, disappearing around the corner, and he fished it out of his pocket, a strange thrill of hope rushing through him. When he didn’t recognize the number, he almost didn’t answer. The hope bled off into anger at a manager that was clearly losing interest in him. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, how to stop that part of his life from disintegrating.

He swiped his thumb across the call and lifted it to his ear. “Jaguar,” he said, his voice coming out sharp.

“Jaguar, it’s Pam. Pamela Rosen, Nancy’s sister.”

Nancy. The woman who’d tried to kill him. Who’d killed an innocent girl. Who’d held a gun on his mother in this very house. The rage pulsed to the surface again and he almost threw the phone across the room.

Grappling for control, he went back out the front door and took a seat on the stairs, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Jaguar?” came her voice again. It was so similar to Nancy’s – cool and detached, almost bored – he felt a shiver race up his spine.

That was how Nancy had confessed to trying to kill him. It’s not really about him. I know he thinks everything revolves around him, but it doesn’t. He could still hear the matter of fact way she’d talked about putting arsenic in food he was meant to eat.

“Jaguar?”

“What?” he managed to say.

She sighed. He could hear it through the phone. “I thought you’d hung up on me for a moment.”

“What do you want, Pam?”

“I got the DNA results, the paternity test, or actually, Nancy got it, but I’m picking up her mail for her.”

He tried to answer, but he couldn’t. The envelope lay on the dresser, mocking him, but he still hadn’t opened it.

“I know you got it too,” she said.

“What do you want? Money?”

She hesitated a moment. When she spoke again, he heard weariness in her voice. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“I’m trying to keep this out of the news, Jaguar. I’m sure you want that too. For everyone’s sake.”

He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

“I’ll get a lawyer if I have to, but I don’t want to do that either. I don’t really have the money for it. Look, I’m raising three kids on my own here. Their father’s not in the picture anymore. I can’t even find him to serve him for child support.”

“So you do want money?”

“Damn it!” she said, the boredom gone now. She didn’t say anything for a moment and he could imagine her fighting for control. “Look, I think we need to meet. I think we need to discuss this. I’m trying to be fair here. I’m not trying to make you the bad guy, but I need help.”

The thrum in her voice made him realize she was serious. He knew she was going to eventually ask him for money, but she did sound like someone at her limit, someone needing help. His antagonism softened.

“Okay. I’ll meet with you. When?”

“Tomorrow. I’m going to Nancy’s shop to pack up stuff. The building’s going up for sale and they want it cleaned out by the end of the week.”

“What time?” he asked, wondering if it was late enough in the day to have a beer.

“Ten. Ten would be good. The kids are in summer camp at the Y.”

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“I’ll find it,” he said, hearing the edge in his voice.

“Thank you.” He heard the tremor again. She was being genuine. “Thank you,” she repeated. “I’ll see you at ten.”

He didn’t respond and a moment later he disconnected the call. Looking out at the empty street, he turned the phone over and over in his hands. He could see the envelope where it lay. She said she had the results, but he didn’t have them. He hadn’t opened the envelope, but he figured he knew what it said.

Tapping the phone against his forehead, he closed his eyes. God, when had he become such a coward? When had he stopped facing what he feared? He’d stepped out in front of thousands of fans and sang, but now he was afraid to open an envelope.

Pushing himself to his feet, he shoved the phone into his pocket and went back inside the house. He could hear his father washing dishes in the kitchen and he felt a wave of irrational anger. He wanted to shout at him to use the damn dishwasher, but that was petty.

Turning into the hallway, he saw his mother in the bathroom, running a comb through her hair. He smiled. He didn’t remember when she’d last cared enough to worry about her appearance. The sight of her doing something so normal gave him courage and he pushed open the door to his room.

The envelope lay where he’d put it. It was the most non-threatening piece of paper he’d ever seen. Official and crisp, it lay there waiting for him. He moved around the end of the bed and took a seat, staring at it. Then he looked around his room.

It was a time capsule to when he’d been a teenager. Same posters on the wall – Aerosmith and the Rolling Stones. A British flag hung from grommets next to the closet. Concert tickets had been tacked to the corkboard he’d placed over the desk he’d never used for studying. In the corner was the first acoustic guitar his mother had given him. Even now he kept it immaculate, running a cloth over its surface every morning.

His eyes tracked back to the envelope and he scrubbed his hands on his thighs. A pepper of sweat tickled across his spine. This was stupid. There was nothing to fear from a piece of paper. He snatched it up and tore across the top of it, reaching in to pull out the letter.

He smoothed it out on his thigh and stared at it. One line, then a table.

Jerome Jarvis is not excluded as the biological father. 99.99%

His eyes zeroed in on two words. NOT EXCLUDED. The weight of those two words made black spots dance in front of his eyes. He put his head in his hands and tried to take slow even breaths. Jerome Jarvis is not excluded as the biological father. Is not excluded. For a moment, he wondered if he didn’t understand exactly what it meant, but he forced himself to look again. The CPI or combined paternity index was 100 and the Probability of Paternity was 99.9%, which meant pretty clearly that he was a father.

The sound of shattering glass made him jump and the letter fluttered to the floor. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the door, wrenching it open. His father met him in the hallway as he grabbed the doorjamb of the bathroom.

His mother knelt on the floor over a broken hand mirror, blood streaming from a cut on her palm and pooling on the tiles. She looked up at them, her expression terrified, her pupils dilated, then she cowered back against the wall, cradling her hand in her lap.

“It slipped,” she said as his father pushed into the room, grabbing a towel off the rack and kneeling before her. “It just slipped.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, wrapping the towel around her hand. “It’s okay.”

Jaguar felt like he was going to be sick again. He sucked in air and fought the black spots dancing before his eyes. What the hell was he going to do now? How the hell was he going to get back to LA?

His mother looked up at him, her eyes so like his own, the same exact shade, but she looked at him with fear, not recognition, and he knew…he knew she’d forgotten him again.

CHAPTER 4

Jaguar wandered out to the kitchen the next morning, half-asleep. He found his father talking on the phone and his mother sitting at the kitchen table, her bandaged hand resting on its surface. Her eyes lifted to his face, unfocused, but he smiled at her and detoured to the coffee pot, reaching for a mug.

“Right, I think it needs stitches,” he heard his father say.

He turned, leaning against the counter, lifting the mug to his lips, and watched the older Jarvis pace back and forth across the worn linoleum. He’d offered to upgrade some features in the house, but his father had said it was a waste of money. Now Jaguar wondered if he’d objected just because Jaguar had agreed to pay for it.

“No, she can’t wait in the emergency room. You don’t understand.” His father shook his head in frustration and paced again.

Jaguar pushed himself away from the counter and took a seat at the table. He set the mug down and reached for his mother’s hand. She pulled back and he held up both hands in a gesture of comfort.

“I just want to see it,” he said.

She studied his face and he already knew it was a bad day. “Are you a doctor?”

He unwound the bandage and gave her a soft smile. Him, a doctor. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. “Nope, but I have some experience with stitches.”

She gave him a half-hearted smile and watched him inspect the cut on her palm. It was pretty deep and still oozed blood. When he’d been ten, he’d fallen off his bicycle and split open his knee. She’d taken him to the emergency room and they’d given him ten stitches, one for each year of his life, she’d said.

When he’d been fighting back the tears, afraid and hurting, she’d smoothed his hair and told him that now he’d have a great story to tell and a scar to prove it. She’d always said scars were the way people tracked the years they’d been alive. The more scars, the more living.

He began winding the bandage back up again. He could hear his father’s foot tapping in frustration, but he ignored it, lifting his mug and taking another sip. “I don’t think it’ll take much to sew that up,” he said.

She cast a worried look at his father, then she leaned close to him. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“You dropped the mirror last night and it shattered.”

She sat back, considering that. “Why don’t I remember that?”

“It’s not important.”

Her eyes tracked back to him and she stared for a moment. “It is if you’re the one unable to remember.”

That caught him. “You’re right,” he said.

Her brow furrowed in concentration. “Sometimes it feels like there’s something there.” She tapped her forehead. “Like I should know something, but I can’t remember it.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “Like I feel I should know you. Like I’ve seen you before.”

He stared back at her, but he didn’t know what to say. He felt the same way.

His father disconnected the call, throwing up both hands in frustration. Jaguar broke the stare with his mother and looked over at him. Henry huffed. “They say I have to take her to the emergency room. Her regular doctor doesn’t have time to see her today.”

“Do you want me to do it?” He deliberately ignored the fact that he had an appointment at ten with Pam Rosen. He didn’t want to think about that.

“No, I’ll take her,” said his father, coming forward. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned over her. “Ida, we need to go to the doctor.”

Her gaze passed back and forth between them, until she zeroed in on Jaguar. “I thought you were the doctor.”

I’m your son, he wanted to say, but he choked it back. “No, the doctor’s at the hospital.”

She made a low moaning sound. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. Please.” She looked up at his father with a wounded expression and Jaguar felt his heart twist.

“It’s not to stay,” said Henry, patting her shoulders. “It’s just to get a few stitches.” He shot a glare at Jaguar.

Jaguar shrugged. How was he supposed to know that was a sore subject?

“I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me.”

“Ida, the doctor needs to sew up your cut. That’s all. Just a little while and we’ll be home.”

“That’s where people go to die. The hospital,” she said, her gaze drifting away. “They leave them there to die. You can smell the death.”

A shiver raced over Jaguar. “Do you think it can wait until the doctor’s available?” he asked Henry.

“And risk an infection? We don’t know what might happen.”

In other words, they didn’t know what she might do. It needed to be stitched. Jaguar nodded.

“Come on, Ida,” said Henry, urging her to her feet. “Let’s get a jacket and we’ll go for a ride. I’ll take you to get an orange zest afterwards.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she moaned, but she allowed herself to be lifted, using Jaguar’s shoulder to brace herself. Jaguar patted her hand, her fingers cool and thin against him. He could feel the knuckles and the parchment-like skin. He had a crazy thought that she was becoming transparent, fading away into nothing. She shuffled toward the door beside his father, both childlike and ancient. He realized that while she didn’t recognize him, he often didn’t recognize her anymore either.

A moment later, the kitchen was quiet and he could hear the front door open. He reached for the coffee, but he realized it had grown cold. Shoving himself to his feet, he carried the mug to the sink and hand washed it, then he stood staring at the empty basin, trying to pull one coherent thought to the foreground, but nothing would come. Shit, maybe Alzheimer’s was his destiny too.

*    *    *

Nancy Osborn’s business, Cater 2 U, had been housed in a pretty pink cottage with flowers in pots next to the stairs. Jaguar stared at them through the window of the taxi, finding it incongruous with the woman who’d tried to kill him.

“You want me to wait?” asked the taxi driver. He was of mixed ethnicity with dark black hair and a thick beard. He wore a San Francisco Giants ball cap and a Buster Posey jersey. He leaned an arm on the seat and turned halfway around to look at his customer. He’d been the one to take him to the Rollicking Robin the other night. Jaguar couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only taxi driver left in the area.

He looked back at the pink house. He knew he was stalling, but he didn’t want to go inside. “No, don’t wait. I don’t know how long I’ll be.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket and paid the man. His gaze chanced over the guy’s license. Hakim Adowani.

Hakim made change for him and held it over the seat. “Call if you need a ride back,” he said.

Jaguar nodded, but he didn’t take the change, pushing open the door. As he climbed out, a woman stepped out onto the porch, her arms crossed over her middle. He could feel his stomach bottom out, but he focused on the stairs and climbed up to her.

She looked him over, her head tilted to the side. He briefly met her gaze, then pretended to take in the porch and the gingerbread shingles.

“Coulda told you you were her father just by seeing your eyes,” she said, then she pushed open the door. “Come in. I’m Pam.”

A wind chime sounded as he followed her into a reception area. Pam crossed the room and pushed aside a beaded curtain that covered the doorway. Jaguar ducked through into a larger room with a desk, a leather office chair, a round table, and upholstered dining chairs. Boxes sat on top of the table. To their left was a fireplace and on the wall next to it another beaded curtain covering a doorway.

“Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea, a shot of whisky?”

Jaguar wouldn’t mind the whisky, but he shook his head no. She pointed to the chairs around the table and they took a seat. Pushing aside some boxes, Pam ran a hand through her short brown bob.

“She definitely has your eyes.”

Jaguar swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond to that.

“You’re not much of a talker.”

He glanced around the room, then noticed a hallway to their right. “Is she here?”

“No, she’s at the Y with my kids.”

“You said you had three kids?”

“Two boys and a girl. Ten, eight and six. Their father took off when Amanda turned three.”

Jaguar shifted in the chair. “I’m sorry.”

“Men suck,” she said.

Jaguar nodded, playing with the leather strings tied around his wrist. He wasn’t going to deny that.

“How many kids do you have?” she asked him.

His eyes snapped to her face. She had probably been pretty once, like Nancy, but there was a bitter set to her mouth and a weariness in her eyes. “Just the one. That I know of,” he said, giving her a sheepish half-smile. He started to ask her something, then stopped himself.

“What?” she demanded.

He tugged on the strings. “What’s her name?”

“Your daughter?”

He nodded. God, that sounded so odd, so wrong.

“Sophia Annabella Osborn. Annabella was our grandmother’s name. Osborn was Nancy’s husband. She let him think Sophia was his for a while, until he got wise to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he found out he couldn’t have kids. He was sterile. He knew Nancy had lied to him.”

Jaguar dropped his gaze to the table. Nancy had worked here in the house, had dreamed here, had wanted something more for her daughter, and now it was being boxed away. “So they divorced and Nancy raised Sophia by herself?”

Pam nodded.

“Like you?”

“Like me,” she repeated.

“You said your husband doesn’t help you with child support.”

“I said I can’t find him. He disappeared and I don’t have money to hire a private investigator. Just as well. I wouldn’t want to have to fight him over custody.”

“So, what do you need from me? I mean, moneywise.”

She didn’t immediately answer, just stared at him.

He gave her an encouraging nod. Surely, they could come to a number. He’d provide for his daughter. He could do that much at least.

“I don’t want your money,” she said slowly, emphasizing each word as if he were simple.

He frowned. Then why the hell were they here? “I thought…”

“You thought I wanted money? You thought I asked you here to shake you down?”

He held out his hands in a helpless gesture.

She tossed her head in exasperation. “I want you to take your daughter.”

“What?” He blinked rapidly a few times. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“I want you to be a father to your daughter, let her come live with you.”

He leaned forward, pressing a hand to the center of his chest. “Nancy tried to kill me to keep me away from her. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know. I know what she did.”

“She murdered someone,” he added.

Pam briefly closed her eyes. “I know.”

“And you want me to take my daughter? You want me to raise her after all that?”

Pam leveled a look on him. “Yes. She’s your daughter.”

He threw up a hand and slumped back in the chair.

“Listen to me,” she said. “I don’t condone what Nancy did, but she hasn’t been in her right mind for a long time. She has brain cancer for God’s sake.”

“She murdered someone,” he repeated. “She held a gun on my mother.”

“I know, but Sophia didn’t do those things. She never asked for any of this and now she can’t be with her mother, the only person she’s ever known, and she doesn’t understand why.” Pam flattened her hand on the table. “Nancy’s dying.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said.

“No, I mean actively dying. I don’t think she’ll live another week. She’s in that psychiatric hospital. I take Sophia to see her twice a week, but she doesn’t understand. All she understands is her mother’s sick, very sick.”

Jaguar swallowed hard. He could imagine how terrifying that would be for a five-year-old. He wished she didn’t have to go through this, but he wasn’t father material. “Nancy wanted you to raise her daughter.”

“I know, but I can’t.”

“I’ll give you money…”

“That’s not the point, Jaguar!” she said angrily. She slapped a hand down on the table, making him jump. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“I have three kids of my own.” She pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “It’s all I can do to raise them the way they should be raised. I work from morning until night trying to do everything that needs doing – cooking, cleaning, washing clothes. Then there’s the homework and the after school activities.”

He watched her, feeling a sinking in his stomach.

“I can’t take on any more. Not even one more or I will break.”

Jaguar looked away, thinking of the frightened little girl about to lose her mother and aunt both. That had to cause serious emotional damage. “I’m not father material.”

“Well, you don’t get a choice in that. Grow up, damn it!” She motioned over his body. “This was all cute and everything a few years ago, but you’re a full grown man now. And!” She punctuated with a finger against the table. “You have a daughter!”

Jaguar leaned forward again. “You keep forgetting that Nancy doesn’t want me anywhere near our daughter.”

“Well, Nancy’s dying.”

Jaguar blinked in surprise.

“So she doesn’t get a choice. Once she’s gone, it’s my decision.”

Jaguar rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. He couldn’t be a father. He didn’t know a damn thing about kids. What the hell did this woman want from him?

“I talked to a lawyer. As soon as Nancy dies, which could be any day now, we can go see this lawyer and have him draw up a custody arrangement. The hard part is already done. We have the results of the paternity test, so we can prove you’re Sophia’s biological father. If we come to an agreement, we don’t even need to go before a judge. The lawyer can just enter the decision for us. In the meantime, I thought, maybe, you’d like to get to know her.”

He looked up through his hands, then dragged them over his face. “Look, Pam, I know how hard it must be to take care of four kids by yourself.”

“You don’t know.”

“Right. Right. But I’m not a father. I have no idea how to be one.”

“There’s not an owner’s manual, your idiot.”

“But I’m going back to LA. Nancy was right about one thing. My lifestyle’s not appropriate for a child.”

Pam started to speak, but he interrupted her. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you enough money to hire an assistant. I’ll even pay your mortgage or the rent on your house, but I can’t take Sophia.”

Pam’s expression hardened. “I wasn’t asking you, Jaguar,” she said in a cold, lethal voice.

Jaguar gave her a confused look.

“You’ve got until Nancy dies to make a decision, then I’ll make it for you. I won’t betray Nancy’s wishes while she’s alive, but as soon as she’s gone, either you take Sophia or, and this I mean with every ounce of my soul, I’ll put her in foster care.”

“She’s your niece!”

“I know that and I don’t want to have to make this decision, but my kids come first. They have to. I owe them and I’ll be damned if I’m going to make them sacrifice because you’re too damn selfish to do what’s right.”

Jaguar couldn’t speak. He just stared at her in horror. What fresh hell was this? She was blackmailing him with a child he didn’t even know, a child whose mother had tried to kill him. He offered to pay her to take care of the child, no questions asked. He couldn’t take a five-year-old to LA with him, take her on tour. This was insane.

Pam rose to her feet, staring down at him. “Think long and hard, Jaguar. It’s time for you to man up.” Then she turned and walked toward the other beaded doorway, throwing the hanging aside and disappearing from view.

Jaguar watched the beads swing back and forth, thoughts scrambling over each other for consideration. Finally, he felt like he was going to suffocate if he didn’t get out of this house. He scrambled to his feet and found his way outside, but once he was there, he didn’t know what to do or where to go.

He sank down on the stairs, bracing his forearms on his thighs, and stared at the leather strips tied around his left wrist. He could smell the evergreens and the coming heat of the day. It was late summer, but the heat would still top eighty.

The feeling of being trapped intensified until he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. What was it about this place that wrapped its tendrils around a person and held him captive? He needed to get back to LA. He needed to save his career. But he just couldn’t see any path forward that would take him there, not now. Not now.

He hardly registered the sedan pulling up before the pink cottage until the door slammed. Sheriff Wilson walked around the front of the car and stepped up on the sidewalk. He tucked his thumbs into the tops of his uniform pants and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

Jaguar lifted his head and met Wilson’s gaze. “I’ve got no pot on me today,” he said wryly. “And I’m not playing guitar in a redneck bar.”

Wilson drew a breath, expanding his concave chest, and released it. “Come with me, son,” he said wearily. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

CHAPTER 5

Someone held a paper cup of coffee under his nose. Jaguar looked up into Zion’s green eyes. He accepted the cup and brought it to his mouth. Café au lait, his favorite. He forced a tired smile for her. His eyes burned and his back ached, but he was actually glad to see her. Zion Sawyer was one of those people who instinctively drew others to them. Whether it was her open face or her good nature, they’d struck up an unlikely friendship since he’d come home.

She sat down next to him. “Tate told me you were here.”

Jaguar wrapped both hands around the warmth of the cup. “What time is it?”

“Eight.”

“AM or PM?”

“AM,” she said. She looked around the waiting room. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s sitting with her. Only one person can be in intensive care at a time.” The small waiting room was half-lit, the furnishings in a 70’s orange brown with faux wood end tables. A television was suspended in a corner, but he’d turned it off hours ago. He’d looked through all the magazines, but home decorating and celebrity divorces had lost their appeal a long time ago.

“Tate said it was an accident?”

He nodded and sipped at the coffee. “My father took her to get stitches in her hand. She broke a mirror the previous night. He was waiting in line to get a prescription filled, for antibiotics, and he told her to wait on a bench for him.” Jaguar drew a breath and held it, then he released it slowly. “When he came out, she was gone. He searched the whole building, frantic, then he heard the commotion out in front of the hospital.”

“She wandered into the street?”

“Yeah.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. Zion put her hand on his arm. He really did like Zion. She’d let him work in her coffee shop when he thought it would help him get back to writing music. He realized now that it was a desperate attempt to recapture something from the past, a time when he felt angry at the world. He’d lost that hunger somewhere along the way and the music had left him. Working the coffee house was fun, but it hadn’t fixed his problems.

Zion had also saved his life. When Nancy had held a gun on him, Zion had talked her down. Zion had made her see how insane her actions were. She and Tate had also saved his mother, but nothing was going to save her now.

“The guy driving the pickup said he didn’t even see her. She was just suddenly there.”

Zion’s grip tightened. “I’m so sorry, Jaguar.”

He stared at the pattern on the linoleum tiles. He’d stared at them for so many hours now. He thought he saw a woman’s profile in one and a butterfly in another. He hated this feeling, this ambush every few minutes. He actually forgot for seconds at a time that his mother had been hit by a car, that she lay in intensive care, that she was supposed to have surgery if they could get her stable, stop the internal bleeding, but her blood pressure was too low, her heart rate too erratic. He actually forgot for a few seconds, only to have it sneak up on him again.

He took another sip of coffee. “I appreciate you coming down. Tate was here when I arrived.”

“Yeah, he told me. How’s your dad doing?”

Jaguar shrugged. “We haven’t spoken. When Sheriff Wilson brought me in, Dad glared at me, but he didn’t say anything. The doctors came out and told us what was happening, that they were trying to stabilize her for surgery, then we’ve been switching off every couple of hours. One of us sits with her, while the other one tries to sleep.”

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

“I doze, then I jerk awake and it all comes back. I just keep seeing her the way she was when she broke the mirror, looking up at me, afraid.”

She didn’t respond, just leaned her shoulder against his. It was enough. He knew she didn’t have words for what he was going through.

“Pam asked me to meet with her.” He glanced over at Zion, turning the paper cup in his hands.

“Pam? Who’s Pam?”

“Nancy Osborn’s sister.”

“Oh, wow. Did you?”

“Yeah. We met at Nancy’s business.”

“Does she want you to help her with child support?”

Jaguar leaned his head against the back of the couch. He was so damn tired. “She wants me to take Sophia when Nancy dies.”

“Take her? You mean raise her?”

“Yeah?”

“What about your career? Going on tours? Living in LA?”

“Exactly. Not the place to raise a child, is it?”

Zion shifted to face him. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. You just need to concentrate on your mother.”

He met Zion’s gaze. “Once Nancy dies, Pam’s done with Sophia.”

“What do you mean done with her?”

“I mean that if I don’t take her, she’s putting her in foster care.”

“That’s a bluff,” said Zion, her back straightening.

“I thought the same thing, but she didn’t look like she was bluffing, Zion.”

She slumped back in the chair, her shoulder touching his again. “Wow, this is a whole lot to digest.”

He gave a bark of laughter and lifted the paper cup. “Ya think?” he said.

*    *    *

Jaguar paced the small, dated waiting room in intensive care, back and forth, back and forth. He stopped as his father and a woman in scrubs entered the room. The woman was in her fifties, black hair pulled up in a bun at the back of her head. She wore wire-framed glasses and no makeup, her face fresh-scrubbed and unembellished, lines radiating out from her dark eyes. She was tall and fit, her arms toned. His father looked old beside her, stooped and ashen, as if the weight of everything lay on his shoulders.

He met Jaguar’s gaze and looked away. Jaguar felt a dropping in the pit of his stomach. This couldn’t be good news. He glanced at the clock over the doorframe. 10:00. Zion had left an hour ago to get back to her shift at the coffee shop. He’d tried to nap, but he couldn’t, so he paced.

The woman held out her hand. “I’m Dr. June Bishara.”

Jaguar took it.

“I’m the attending physician for your mother.”

“What’s going on?” He couldn’t keep the dread out of his voice.

Dr. Bishara motioned to the arm chairs. “Let’s sit and talk for a moment, okay?”

Jaguar and his father took the indicated chairs, while Dr. Bishara pulled up one from across the room. Glancing at his father, Jaguar marked that his head was bowed, his hands clasped, his forearms resting on his thighs. He didn’t return the look.

“Mr. Jarvis,” she said.

“Jaguar,” he corrected, but his father gave a snort of disgust. “Please, just call me Jaguar.”

“Of course,” she said, laugh lines crinkling around her eyes as she smiled at him. “Jaguar, as you know, your mother was hurt very badly in the car accident.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“We know there was internal injury, internal bleeding, which requires surgery to stop, but her heartbeat’s too irregular. We’re afraid to put her under anesthesia.”

“But I thought you were giving her blood and trying to slow the bleeding so you could operate. I don’t know why she wasn’t taken in for emergency surgery.”

“Because the bleeding’s slow but steady. We’ve tried to stabilize her every way we possibly can, but it’s not working.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands before her. “This morning we did a brain scan to check for activity.”

Henry curled in on himself, closing his eyes.

Jaguar studied the doctor’s face in confusion. “Okay?”

She paused, giving him a moment to think about it. “I know how hard this is. I know how devastating this must be.”

“What are you saying?”

“There’s no sign of brain activity.”

“How can that be? How can there be no…” He caught himself. Looking away, he rose to his feet and paced toward the window. How could this be? How could this be happening to them? His mother in her fashionable clothes with her self-assurance. His mother, who taught him to be whoever he wanted to be and not conform to what society wanted him to do.

He turned and faced the doctor again. “Are you saying she’s brain dead?”

She nodded, looking up at him. “We’re keeping her breathing through a respirator and pumping blood in to make up for the blood she’s losing. If we take her of the ventilator, she’ll go peacefully.”

Jaguar came back and sat down again, hard.

“I know how difficult this decision is, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t present it to you. Whatever your decision, you need to know that she’s not going to make it back from this. She’s too fragile for surgery and without surgery, she’ll bleed to death.”

Jaguar covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes burning. Dr. Bishara gave him a sympathetic look, but Henry didn’t move.

“You and your father need to talk this through,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll be around, just ask a nurse to page me if you have any questions. Again, I know how hard this is, so I’d be willing to help you make this decision.”

Jaguar didn’t respond. A coherent thought just wouldn’t come to the foreground. Beside him, his father buried his face in his hands.

“Jaguar?” asked Dr. Bishara. “Are you okay?”

He looked around the room as if he were just seeing it for the first time, then he took a breath, but it stuck in his chest, blazing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Um, we need to talk. We need to…um, discuss things.”

“Right. Again, have them page me if you have any questions. I’ll be around all day.”

“Thank you,” Jaguar heard himself say, but he was back to studying the linoleum, hardly seeing that Dr. Bishara had made her quiet exit.

He wasn’t sure how long he and his father sat in the same position, but finally Henry stirred and rose to his feet. He paced to the window as Jaguar had done, his motions jerky and tense.

“I know what you’re going to say. I know what you want to do.”

Jaguar looked up at him. He did? Because Jaguar frankly had no damn idea.

Henry turned and pointed a finger at him. “You want to get back to your debauchery and hedonism.”

Jaguar hadn’t thought about debauchery or hedonism once, but he wasn’t going to argue with his father. Henry was overwrought and didn’t even know what he was saying.

“But she’s my wife!” he shouted, pointing out the doors. “You don’t just pull the plug on your wife!”

He paced to the door and then back, moving toward the window. Jaguar watched him, wondering how someone aged overnight. How did someone get old in the changing of a sunrise? Henry looked stooped and broken and fragile as if a breeze would blow him away.

“You don’t get it!” Henry continued. “I’m all she has. I’m all she can count on. You went away! You went and lived your life and did your drugs and slept with your women. Or men!” He waved a hand in the air. “How would I know? All these earrings and tattoos!”

Jaguar drew in air and released it slowly, letting Henry rant because he had no words to comfort him, even if their relationship hadn’t been strained, even if they had been close. There were no words to make this easier.

Henry stopped in front of him, slapping a hand against his chest. “I stayed here. I took care of her. Some days she didn’t even remember who I was, but I stayed. Now you want me to just pull the plug on her, let her go. Well, I can’t do it. I can’t!”

“Okay,” said Jaguar softly.

Henry stopped pacing and whirled to face him. “What?”

“Okay. We won’t do it. We’ll let things happen as they’re going to happen.”

Henry sat down hard in the chair the doctor had vacated. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

His father’s face twisted. “You blame me. You think I’m responsible for this. For her. That I didn’t watch her close enough.”

Jaguar shook his head.

“I don’t need your patronizing!”

“I’m not patronizing you, Pops,” he said wearily. God, he was so tired. “I don’t blame you. I don’t blame anyone.” Except God. He deserved the blame, Jaguar thought.

Henry’s shoulders slumped and he covered his face with his hands. Then he started to cry. At first, Jaguar wasn’t sure that’s what he was doing, but after listening for a while, he knew that it was.

He sat in the chair for a few minutes, unsure what to do. He knew Henry would not welcome any comfort from him. In fact, he’d lash out in rage if Jaguar acknowledged his vulnerability, so he waited until the sobbing died down, then he rose to his feet and walked out of the waiting room, headed for his mother. No use making Henry embarrassed anymore than he’d already be by staying to watch him pull himself together again.

*    *    *

Jaguar took a seat beside his mother. Her once lovely face was a mess of bruises, black, purple, blue. Even her hand was discolored as he gently lifted it, tubes and wires snaking all over. The rhythmic compression of the ventilator pulsed in his head along with the beep of the heart monitor. He reached up and smoothed her hair. It was wispy and soft against his palm.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, fighting against the tightness in his chest. He had an ache in his belly, a twisting in his gut, and his eyes burned. “I don’t know if you’re still here with us, but I want you to know…” His voice faded away.

What? What did he want her to know? How did you tell your mother everything you wanted to tell her, everything she’d meant to you? Some things were bigger than words, bigger than talk. Some things were impossible to quantify.

He rubbed his thumb gently over the prominent veins on the back of her hand, staring at the music notes that danced along his inner forearm. “I feel like there’s a hole in me,” he said finally. “It’s like nothing’s right without you. I miss you so much.”

He closed his eyes, fighting for composure, fighting to maintain his control. Forcing them open again, he glanced up at her, but he hated seeing her with all of the tubing, the wires, the artificial air being pumped into her. He scrubbed his face on his shoulder, then kissed the back of her hand.

“You always let me be me. You never tried to control me.” He gave a laugh. “Maybe you should have, I don’t know. Who the hell knows what’s best? You just do what you think is right and then, even if it turns out great, you still doubt.”

He realized his leg was jogging up and down, a nervous tick. He didn’t try to stop it. He figured if he stayed sober at this moment that was accomplishment enough.

“So, it turns out you have a granddaughter. How crazy is that? And they want…well, her aunt wants me to raise her. Me? Raise a child? And a girl?” He smoothed the covers with his free hand. “That’s nuts. Right? I mean, me with a girl? She’s five. There’s a whole lot of raising left to do and I can barely take care of myself.”

He leaned back in the chair.

“Desmond hasn’t called me back. Something’s going on there, but I don’t have time to figure it out. It’s like everything’s falling apart at the same time, and then…well, then there’s Pops.” His eyes tracked back to her face. “What do I do about him? The old bastard hates me. He always has, but he really hates me now.”

“You always said he just didn’t understand me. I think that was over-simplification. I think it’s pretty safe to say it’s active hate now.” He gave a weary laugh. “You should see the way he looks at me. Like he’s smelled something foul or seen something so disgusting, he can’t look away.”

Tears filled his eyes suddenly and he closed them, trying to fight it back. Ida Jarvis had been the only one who never asked for anything from him, who didn’t want him to be something he wasn’t. Maybe she should have pushed him more, but she’d always accepted his choices without question, without prejudice. As he sat there, watching her life bleed away, he realized he’d just lost the only person who truly gave a damn about him and he was all alone.

*    *    *

Jaguar jerked awake as the alarm sounded, shrieking through his skull. He bolted upright and his gaze landed on his mother. His father bolted up at the same time, bending over her to see what had happened. A moment later, the room filled with nurses and orderlies in scrubs.

Jaguar found himself shunted aside, pushed to the back of the room, while they frantically played with dials and pressed buttons. The cold window pressed against his back and he curled his arms around his middle, watching the frenetic motion in the room and not really comprehending it.

His gaze passed over the many bodies and found his father. Henry had been pushed to the side by the door, his hands pressed against the wall behind him, his entire face stark with shock and terror. Jaguar had never seen his father look so vulnerable and he had to turn away.

He wasn’t sure how long the bodies raced around, shouting commands, fiddling with things, hovering over his mother, but without warning, all motion suddenly ceased. Jaguar realized that Dr. Bishara had arrived at some point in this maelstrom and she reached over, pressing a button on the machine by his mother’s bed, silencing the alarm.

Jaguar felt his legs give out and the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the ground, his legs tented, his forearms resting on his knees. He felt like he was watching through thick water as Dr. Bishara turned to his father and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

His father curled his chest forward and collapsed on the edge of the bed, cradling his mother in his arms, his head buried against her chest. Dr. Bishara and the nurses stood in a semicircle around the bed, Dr. Bishara’s hand on his father’s back as he wept, their heads downcast in commiseration.

Jaguar didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to wail. He just wanted to sit. Sitting seemed like a really good idea. He watched the people gathered around the bed, marking different things – this one had pictures of puppies all over her scrubs, another had yellow clogs on her feet, and a man in blue scrubs had a stethoscope draped around his neck with a 49ers pin attached to it.

Dr. Bishara detached herself from the group and came over to him, hunkering down. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He nodded, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t expect any more from her. Sorry about filled it, but it suddenly seemed so inadequate. Everything seemed inadequate. There ought to be something more when a mother dies, when a person leaves her body. There ought to be fanfare or a herald from heaven. There ought to be a bright light or a chorus of angels to escort one away. Not just the silencing of an alarm.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, resting a hand on his knee.

“I just want to sit here for a while,” he told her.

She nodded. “If there’s anything I can do…” She let the thought trail away.

But there was nothing anyone could do. He suddenly felt sorry for her. She saw this same scene everyday and he figured it probably looked very much the same, no matter what color or creed the person – grief must look all the same. Religion tried to sanitize it, make sense of it, but it wasn’t something where sense had meaning.

All people experienced this grief. No matter what. All people would eventually lose someone the loss of which would diminish them. There was no way around it. You lived, you died, you grieved.

He focused on her dark eyes. “She always wanted a duck for a pet,” he told the doctor, not sure why the hell he was telling this. “Because it would imprint on you, follow you around.”

She gave him a kind smile.

“When she told me that, I thought it sounded crazy, silly. Why would you want someone to follow you around?” He exhaled, slowly, trying to ease the tightness in his chest, but it didn’t help. “I didn’t get it, but it’s been with me for days, you know? I keep thinking about it and I think I figured it out.”

“What did you figure out?” she asked.

He felt his face twist unnaturally and he couldn’t stop it. He felt another hitch in his chest and he couldn’t stop it. “She didn’t want to be alone.” He shuddered, closing his eyes, then he buried his face in his arms and let the grief flow out of him.

CHAPTER 6

Jaguar took a seat on the steps outside his parents’ front door and pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a long time without doing anything, then he pressed the contacts and pulled up Desmond Hifler. His thumb hovered over the name until finally, he forced himself to press his number.

Hifler picked up after a number of rings. Jaguar lost count, staring out at the bright late summer day. “Hey, Jagster, how are you, my musical prodigy?”

Jaguar frowned. Was Hifler drunk? It was nine in the freaking morning. “I’ve…um, been better.”

“Ah, so things aren’t going well? How’s the song writing?”

Jaguar had an instant desire to hang up. Songs? He wanted songs now? Closing his eyes, he fought for composure. It seemed trivial to him because he was so raw, but it was their business, their livelihood. Of course it was the one thing Hifler would be concerned with.

“Desmond,” he said, his voice rough. He cleared it. “My mom died and…”

“Ah, Jag, I’m so sorry. That sucks. That Alzheimer’s a bitch, buddy.”

What the hell did he think Alzheimer’s was? Cancer? “Yeah, it sucks.”

“So, I guess you’re gonna be stuck up there for a while more?”

“A while. I’ve got some other issues that just came up, but I wanted to talk to you about the Greatest Hits album.”

“Oh, man, all the guys are onboard and we’re really excited. I mean, it’s beyond time for us to put one out.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little early.”

“No. NO! Definitely not too early. I mean, you wanna hit when the band’s still relevant enough for people to remember your greatest songs. You know, it drums up nostalgia and gets people thinking of their youth.”

“What?”

“Hey, we ain’t getting any younger. Am I right?” He laughed.

“I’m twenty-nine.”

“Yeah, but you know the business, Jag. A rock band’s shelf-age is like the half-life of a nuclear bomb, right?” He laughed again. “Hey, look, bud, sorry about your mom, but I got another call.”

“Desmond!” Jaguar said sharply. “Don’t go to the other call.”

The line went quiet for a moment and Jaguar wasn’t sure if Hifler had hung up or not. Finally he heard Hifler’s voice on the line. “Look, Jaguar, I know you’re having a rough time. Shit, man, I get it, but don’t make any rash decisions right now, okay? I think we need to have a meeting with the rest of the band and you need to get back here in LA. We can decide where we want to go in two weeks. Let’s just put everything on ice and we’ll come back to it in two weeks when you’re home.”

Jaguar rubbed his forehead with a hand. This was sound advice. He couldn’t think clearly about anything right now. In two weeks, the funeral would be over and his father would have decided what to do. Then he could go back to LA and pick up where he’d left off.

“Okay, let’s have a band meeting two weeks from today in your office,” he told Hifler.

“Hang on a minute. Let me get you down, so I don’t forget. I’ll have my secretary call the guys and get them in here. Let’s say 2:00 on August 29th. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” said Jaguar, scratching at his beard. “August 29th.”

“Gotta go. Talk to you then.” And he was gone.

Jaguar stared out at the quiet street and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Two weeks. Two weeks from now he’d be back in LA and then he could deal with his career. That meant he didn’t have to think about it until then.

The relief of that was immense. Two weeks without worrying about his band, about his music, about his success. Two weeks without trying to come up with something new, cutting edge, viral. Two weeks.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, surprised when a car pulled up before the house. He squinted as a heavy-set man got out, followed by a very tiny woman. He rose to his feet as he recognized his old English teacher, Jim Dawson.

Jim Dawson had a paunch and thinning salt and pepper hair. His full beard and moustache hung to the middle of his chest. The woman with him wore a sweater set and a plaid skirt with orthopedic shoes and white tights. Her strawberry blond hair was perfectly coiffed and held in place with hairspray. She wore cat’s eye glasses and carried a glass bowl in her hands.

Walking down the steps, he met them in the middle of the walkway, shaking hands with Dawson. The old man’s grip was firm and he clapped his free hand on Jaguar’s shoulder.

“How are you doing, young man?” he said, patting him.

Jaguar nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to speak.

Dawson released him and transferred his hand to the small of the woman’s back. “This is Mrs. Dawson.” He gave her a serious look. “This is Jerome, Minnie.”

She held the dish out to him. “I’m so sorry about your mother, Jerome. This is for you and your father. Tuna casserole.”

Jaguar took it, forcing a smile for her. “Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. Would you like to come inside?”

Dawson looked up at the house, drawing both Minnie and Jaguar’s attention to it. He could see his father standing at the front window, glaring out at them.

“Maybe just for a moment,” said Dawson.

Jaguar led them back up the walkway to the stairs. When he pushed open the door, his father had disappeared from the living room. Jaguar figured he was probably in the kitchen, but when he motioned for the Dawsons to follow him there, the room was empty. Jaguar placed the casserole in the refrigerator and turned to his guests.

One of the neighbors had brought a beautiful gluten-free coffee cake over this morning and it sat in the middle of the table. “How about a slice of gluten-free cake and some coffee?” he said. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning, he realized, and his stomach grumbled in protest.

“Sounds delightful, dear,” said Minnie.

She and Dawson sat down at the table, while Jaguar searched through the cabinets for plates, forks, and coffee cups. He realized he’d been here for over a month now, but he still didn’t know where everything went. He set the stuff on the counter and gripped the tiles, fighting the wave of grief that washed over him. His mother had put all this stuff away. She’d arranged it all and even as she’d gotten sick, she’d still come in here to putter about, fixing them food. When he’d first come home before the Redwood Stock concert, she’d made him a sandwich. He remembered watching her standing in this spot, making a sandwich for him.

He felt a hand on his back and he opened his eyes, looking into the brown gaze of Minnie Dawson. “It’s okay, dear,” she said, taking the plates and forks from him. “I’ve got this.” She carried them back to the table and began cutting the coffee cake.

He brought over the mugs and then got the coffee pot. He’d made coffee first thing this morning, but neither he nor his father had gotten a cup. He poured it out and then fetched the milk and sugar, setting them in the middle of the table. Finally, he sank into a chair, the chair his mother always used.

Jim Dawson reached for a mug and the milk. “How’s your father, boy?”

“Shit. Spoons,” said Jaguar, watching Dawson doctor his coffee.

Minnie laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him in the chair. “I’ll get it.”

“Watch your language, boy!” scolded Dawson, setting down the milk and reaching for the sugar.

Minnie pre-empted him, taking the sugar from his hand and replacing it with the spoon. “Remember what the doctor said.” She took a plate of coffee cake and set it in front of him, then did the same for Jaguar. “Eat something, dear,” she told Jaguar, patting his shoulders as she moved over to her own chair.

Jaguar smiled at her and gave her a mug of coffee, then he reached for the milk and poured a little into his own mug, curling his hands around it. He wasn’t sure he could eat anything. His eyes rose to meet Dawson’s. The old teacher was glaring at him the way he’d glared at him in school. He realized Dawson had asked about his father and he hadn’t answered.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “He came home from the hospital and locked himself in his room. I left him alone last night because I was pretty shocked myself, but we need to make…” His voice choked off and he took a deep breath, releasing it. “We need to make funeral arrangements.”

Dawson nodded, taking a bite of his coffee cake.

Jaguar rubbed a hand over his chin, feeling the scratch of his beard again. It grounded him.

Minnie reached over and patted the back of his hand. “Eat something, dear. You’re looking pale.”

He took a bite just to please her, but it tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He forced it down and gulped coffee to chase it away. For some reason, it dawned on him that he didn’t know how the Dawsons had known what happened.

“How did you find out?” he asked.

“It was in the Sequette,” said Dawson.

The Sequette was Sequoia’s daily paper. He’d been in it before for some not so good reasons. He nodded.

“Are they charging the man who hit her?” asked Dawson.

“Jim!” exclaimed Minnie in horror.

He gave her a bewildered shrug. Jaguar almost laughed at the exchange. He’d never seen the grumpy old teacher put in his place before.

“No, he didn’t see her. She just darted out in front of him.”

Minnie covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes grew liquid. Jaguar felt the urge to comfort her, but that seemed ridiculous, considering the situation.

“What are you going to do now, boy?” asked Dawson.

“Jim!” exclaimed Minnie again.

Jaguar reached over and patted her hand. “It’s okay.” He actually found Dawson’s directness refreshing. Jim Dawson wasn’t a complicated man. He called it like it was and Jaguar had never doubted where he stood with him. Unlike his own damn father.

Minnie clasped his hand in both her own. He was strangely comforted by the gesture. He’d only just met this woman, but her motherly attention soothed the ragged tangle inside of him, so he let her hold onto him without drawing away.

He focused on his old teacher. Dawson might never have thought he was a bright student, or even a student, but he’d always shown an interest in him, treated him as a human. Maybe not a good human or an intellectually gifted human, but a human that mattered just the same. What other people didn’t realize is that his gruff demeanor, his bald-faced truths hid a man who really cared.

“I don’t know, Mr. Dawson,” he said. “I don’t know what to do. I should go back to LA, but my dad…” He stopped, glancing toward the door.

“I know, boy, I know.”

He did. He knew Jaguar and his father had never seen eye to eye and that wasn’t going to get better now that the buffer between them was gone.

“What do you want to do, boy?” asked Dawson.

Jaguar stared at the man, unblinking. What an interesting question and he didn’t have an answer. What did he want to do?

He just didn’t know anymore.

*    *    *

That afternoon, Henry drove himself and Jaguar to Barry Bonds Mortuary & Notary. Henry paused on the walkway to the door of the little A-frame cottage and snorted. Jaguar gave the lighted sign a wry look as well. God, sometimes the names in Sequoia were more than he could take. Barry for a man who buries people.

“Maybe I should have brought my will to have him notarize it,” said Henry, shooting a look over his shoulder but not really meeting Jaguar’s gaze. “I’m leaving you my socks of the 50 states collection.”

Jaguar stopped walking, his brow quirking. Was that a joke? With a grumble, Henry started walking again, pulling himself up the concrete steps to the door. Jaguar followed him, feeling his stomach churn. Dear God, he didn’t want to do this.

A somber bell chimed as Henry and Jaguar stepped into a room filled with coffins. Henry reared back, sucking in air. Jaguar wanted to place a hand on his back to steady him, but he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever touched his father, so he curled his hands into fists and stared straight ahead.

A round man in a black suit appeared out of the back room. Although the showroom was cool, he was perspiring and he wiped a handkerchief over his buzz-cut head and down around the side of his face.

He tucked the handkerchief into a jacket pocket, rubbed his hand on the outside of the pocket and extended it to Henry. His small round eyes went beyond Henry to Jaguar. He had very full, red lips and a bulbous nose.

“You must be Mr. Henry Jarvis. We spoke on the phone.”

Henry made a noncommittal grunt and his eyes tracked around the room again.

The man reached beyond Henry, holding out his hand to Jaguar. “I’m Barry Bonds. Not the famous baseball player, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Jaguar hadn’t been thinking that at all, but he took the damp hand and shook it. “Jaguar,” he said.

Henry made another grunt, but Barry Bonds’ gaze traveled down Jaguar’s tattooed arms, then up to his pierced ears. “Right. You’re the rockstar.” When he said rockstar, his eyes widened until there was white around the iris.

“Sure,” said Jaguar.

Barry Bonds’ brows drew down in a frown. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Such a shock.”

Henry shifted weight. “Can we just get on with this?”

“Of course.” Bonds motioned to a table behind the display of coffins. “Come this way and we’ll just work out exactly what you’d like for her end of life celebration. Based on what you said on the phone, I took the liberty of drawing up a plan for you.”

Henry sank into the chair and Jaguar sat down next to him. Barry Bonds went around the table and grabbed a leather binder, opening it and taking out a sheet of paper. He passed it to Henry. The older man took the paper and studied it, holding it so Jaguar couldn’t see what it said.

He hadn’t even known his father had contacted the mortuary until he’d come out of his room with his car keys after the Dawsons had left. He’d stood in the entrance to the kitchen, watching Jaguar wash the few dishes they’d used, then he’d cleared his throat.

Jaguar had looked over his shoulder at him and Henry had pointed to the front door. “I’m going to make funeral arrangements for your mother,” he said. He’d dropped his eyes to the floor and drew a breath. “If you want to come…”

Then he’d walked away.

If you want to come.

It was a pretty insignificant exchange as father and son moments went, but Jaguar knew it was Henry’s way of asking him for help. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d dried his hands and hurried after his father, slipping into the passenger seat without protest.

Frankly, Henry scared the hell out of him with his driving, but he wasn’t about to say anything about it now. Some part of him half expected that Henry might make these arrangements without him. He knew his mother had never thought about it. Ida wasn’t a plan for tomorrow type of woman, so she and his father had probably never discussed it.

Now Henry slapped the paper on the table and closed his eyes. Then he pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said and turned for the door.

“What?” asked Jaguar.

“Let’s go. We’ll go to Visalia and see what they can do for us.”

“Visalia?” Jaguar glanced over at Barry Bonds. The mortician sadly shook his head and clasped his hands together on the table.

“Last minute funeral arrangements can be quite costly,” said the mortician.

Henry turned back toward the table as Jaguar reached for the paper. The cost made him suck in air, but this was his mother. He didn’t want her having a cut-rate funeral.

“I said let’s go,” growled Henry.

Jaguar set the paper down on the table and flattened his hand on it. “Mr. Bonds, do you mind if I have a word with my father?”

Barry Bonds’ eyes shifted between the two men, then he grunted his way to his feet. “Of course not,” he said. “I’ll just be tidying up in back.” He pointed to a button on the wall. “Just press that when you’re ready.”

Jaguar didn’t want to think about what needed tidying up in this place, but he just nodded and watched the little man toddle away, disappearing through a door that said Employees Only.

Jaguar patted his father’s chair. “Come sit down.”

“I’m not going to be swindled by the likes of that man.”

“He’s not swindling you and they’re not going to give you a better deal in Visalia. That would mean transporting the bod…” Jaguar’s voice cracked. He cleared it. “Mom to Visalia which will use up any savings you might have gotten there.”

To his surprise, Henry walked back to the table and sank into the chair, bracing his head with his hands. Jaguar gave him a moment, then he shifted to face him. “I know it’s a lot of money.”

Henry dragged his hands down his face. “That’s not the problem. The problem is I don’t have that money. No matter what I do, I don’t have it.” He slapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “I can’t even afford to bury my wife the way I should.”

Jaguar felt a wash of pity. His father had worked driving a forklift for a warehouse his entire life. If he’d made much more than minimum wage, Jaguar would be surprised. The fact that Jaguar had more money than he knew what to do with didn’t matter. His father was a man of pride. He’d worked his ass off for everything he’d gotten. He’d worked a hell of a lot harder than Jaguar ever had.

For a moment, he understood a little about his father.

“I’ll pay for it,” he said. “She was my mother.”

Henry’s face twisted with rage. “Isn’t it bad enough that I live in a house you bought? Now I have to rely on you to pay for my wife’s funeral.” He motioned at Jaguar’s body. “That devil rock’s going to bury her!”

The old, hot rage bubbled to the surface, but Jaguar knew Henry was speaking from a point of hurt, so he tamped it down. “No, Pops, that devil rock isn’t going to bury her.” He tapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “I’m a shrewd investor. Believe it or not. I haven’t squandered the money I’ve made. I’ve invested most of it. And I am now independently wealthy without the devil rock.”

Henry studied him as if he’d never seen him before. “Are you serious? You invest?”

“I invest and it isn’t into irresponsible things either. I research what I invest in.”

“I thought your manager handled your money.”

Jaguar made a scoffing sound. “Did you think I wanted to be robbed? No, I handle it myself. I mean, I have an advisor, but I decide what gets done.”

Henry shook his head in amazement. “You were the worst student in school. You barely graduated.”

“Yeah, everyone keeps reminding me of that.”

“How do you know anything about investing?”

“I learned. I listened to other people.” He pointed at the table. “I read a book.”

Henry barked out a laugh and Jaguar joined him.

“And I studied.”

“I’ll be damned. I thought you just drank and did drugs and slept with…people.”

Jaguar shrugged. “Not as much as you thought. I mean, I did those things, sure, but you know me, I’ve never been able to really commit to anything in my life. Not even drug or alcohol addiction.”

Henry laughed again. Jaguar realized he hadn’t heard his father laugh twice in his entire life. Then Henry’s face fell. “I wanted to be able to provide her with the best.”

“You did.”

He waved a hand over the funeral bill. “I can’t even bury her.”

“But I can and that’s all that matters right now.” He drew a breath and released it. “Look, you and me, we have our issues.”

Henry snorted.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever work them out or if it’ll always be like oil and water for us, but you raised me. You provided for me. You worked your ass off to provide for all of us. I can do this for us. I can do this for her. Let me.”

He actually met Jaguar’s gaze for a moment, then he looked away.

“Think of it this way, Pops. We both loved her. If nothing else, she was the best part of us. She deserves for us to agree on at least one thing for her.”

Henry looked up again, then he nodded.

Jaguar knew he wasn’t going to get anymore, so he jumped to his feet and hurried to the button on the wall, pressing it. When he turned back to the table, he found his father with his hands over his face, his shoulders heaving in silent tears.

Without a word, Jaguar went back and sat next to him, reaching across the table and grabbing the tissue box, setting it before Henry, then he laid a hand on the back of his father’s chair, not touching him, but he knew Henry would feel the weight of his hand and that was enough.

CHAPTER 7

The phone vibrated on the table. Jaguar looked below the coffee mug in his hands at the display. Pamela Rosen. He groaned and thought to let it go to voicemail, but he slid his fingers across the screen and lifted it to his ear.

“Hey?”

“Jaguar?” came her voice, thrumming with tension.

“Yeah, look, Pam, I haven’t had a chance to even think about what you asked me the other day. My mother…”

“I know about your mother. I’m sorry, Jaguar,” she said and he heard the sincerity in her voice.

He didn’t bother to ask how she’d heard. It was pretty obvious that everyone in Sequoia read the Sequette. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but he figured the death of a rockstar’s mother would move papers at least.

“Thank you,” he said, wondering when the reality of her death would stop ambushing him.

“Is there anything I can do? I can bring food by if you and your father would like me to.”

“The neighbors have been keeping us fed,” he said.

“When’s the funeral?”

“This weekend.”

“Did she have any family left?”

“No, her brother died years ago and her parents have been gone twenty years. I don’t really remember them.”

She fell silent. For some reason, he had the strangest desire to ask how Sophia was, but he resisted the impulse. He still didn’t know what he wanted to do about a daughter he didn’t know and he was so close to escaping again to LA. He didn’t want Pam to mistake any concern he felt for the child to mean actual interest.

“This is so hard,” she finally said, but Jaguar sensed she wasn’t talking to him.

“Is something wrong?” He gripped the phone tighter, unexpected fear racing through him. Curious, he thought. He had some visceral reaction, almost a feeling of worry, for this child he didn’t know.

“Nancy’s dying.”

“Oh,” he said, the fear bleeding away. He didn’t give a damn. She deserved to die for holding a gun on his mother.

“Jaguar, I know this is horrible timing and everything, but…”

“Just say it,” he grumbled.

“Nancy wants to see you.”

Jaguar stared at the table. “She what?”

“She wants to see you before she dies.”

He set the mug down and swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. She wanted to see him? Why? What could she possibly say to him and why the hell would he want to hear it? She’d killed someone because of him, she’d tried to kill him, and she’d held a gun on his mother.

“Yeah, Pam, I don’t think…”

“It’s her dying request, Jaguar. She begged me the other day to call you. I thought she’d forget about it. She’s so doped up on painkillers, but she didn’t. She says she can’t die until she sees you again.”

His father appeared in the door, drawing Jaguar’s attention. He watched the older man shuffle to the coffee pot and reach for a mug. He didn’t remember seeing his father shuffle before, certainly not before his mother died. Henry Jarvis had always been such a powerful man, a force to be reckoned with and intimidating to his son. For the first time, Jaguar felt pity for him.

“Pam, I can’t…”

“Don’t say that!” she begged. “You don’t know what it’s like. She’s desperate to talk to you. She’s in so much pain, but she won’t let go. She says she has to see you. Please, Jaguar, please find it in your heart to grant her wish. She’s the mother of your child.”

She’s the woman who wanted him dead.

He braced his forehead in his hand. He should tell her no, he should attend his mother’s funeral, then he should get on a plane and fly back to LA to salvage his career, but he couldn’t find his voice to tell her that.

“Look, I’ll leave it this way. I’m going down to the hospital now. The kids are at the Y until 4:00. She’s at the Kaweah Delta Behavioral Hospital in Visalia. I’ll text you the address and room number, and you can decide what you want to do.”

He still didn’t answer, staring at the oily swirl of black liquid in his coffee mug.

“Don’t wait too long to decide. It could be any day now,” she said. “I hope you’ll come. I hope you’ll give her her last request.” Then the line went dead and Jaguar closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to go see this woman. He didn’t owe her anything and the truth was he didn’t give a damn if she died or not.

“Are you in trouble?” came his father’s voice right over him.

Jaguar’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at the older Jarvis. “What?”

“Are you in trouble?”

Jaguar frowned. “In trouble?”

“That phone call. That Pam. Did you get her pregnant or something? Like the other one? Is there going to be another crazy woman showing up here with a gun to kill you for it?”

Jaguar sighed. So much for the truce between them. “That’s exactly what it was, Pops,” he said, rising to his feet. “Better bolt the door.” He started from the room.

“Jerome,” said his father at his back.

Jaguar stopped, but he didn’t turn around.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Jaguar turned slowly to face him. Henry dropped his eyes.

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Okay,” said Jaguar, completely confused now.

“If you need help…son…”

Jaguar’s eyes widened. Son? What the hell? He wanted to scoff, but the more mature part of his brain told him Henry was trying. It was more than he’d done at any other time in his life. “I just have a decision I need to make.”

Henry pulled out a chair from the table. “Come sit down. Tell me what it is. Maybe I can help.”

Jaguar realized his mouth had dropped open. Come sit down? Had Henry suffered a stroke or something? Because he was so bewildered, he walked over and took his original seat again, reaching for his coffee mug.

Henry cradled a coffee mug in his own hands, avoiding eye contact with him. “What’s going on? What was that call about?”

Jaguar took a sip of his coffee to wet his mouth. “Pam Rosen’s Nancy Osborn’s sister.”

“Nancy Osborn? The woman who came here to the house? The woman who says you’re the father of her kid?”

Jaguar blew out air, puffing out his cheeks. “Well, I am the father of her kid.”

Henry’s eyes (an unremarkable blue) snapped to his face and fell away. “I see. You got the paternity results?”

“Yeah, just before Mom…just before the accident.”

Henry nodded, tapping the mug with his blunt fingers. “So, I’m a grandfather.”

“I guess.”

“What does Pam want?”

“Nancy’s dying.”

“Good.”

Jaguar gave a bark of laughter. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Henry offered him a half-smile.

“Anyway, she’s asking to see me.”

“Nancy?”

“Right. She’s in a psych hospital in Visalia and she’s asking to see me before she dies.”

“Why?”

“No idea.”

Henry looked at a spot in the middle of Jaguar’s chest. “Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know.”

Henry nodded. “That’s a tough one.”

“Yep.”

Henry thought for a moment. Jaguar didn’t push it. He realized it was nice just to sit here with his father and not be at each other’s throats. He didn’t remember the last time that happened, if ever.

“I think you should go,” Henry finally said.

“Why?”

“Because she’s dying. If you don’t go, a part of you will always be wondering what she might have wanted to say. It’ll give you closure. Especially after what happened.”

Closure? He’d never heard Henry use words like that before. Henry was an open book. He had things he liked and he had things he didn’t like and he had things he didn’t understand, but didn’t care to figure out. What the hell did Henry Jarvis know about closure?

Then he said the strangest thing. “I’ll go with you if you want.”

Jaguar sat up straight, stunned into catatonia.

A smile quirked the corners of Henry’s mouth. “But I’ll drive. You scare the hell out of me when you drive.”

Jaguar laughed again. “I haven’t driven in eleven years, old man. That’s my excuse. You scare the hell out of me, so I think I’ll take a cab.”

“To Visalia?” Henry made a swatting motion. “Waste of money.”

“I think we’ve established I’ve got the money to waste.” And just like that he realized he’d already decided to go. He drummed his fingers on the table and stared at his father’s bent head. “Thanks for offering to go with me, Pops.”

Henry met his eyes, then looked out the window over his garden. “Sure.”

Jaguar pushed himself to his feet and carried the coffee mug to the sink. “Better go find a shirt to put over these tattoos. Going to a mental hospital, I wouldn’t want them to lock me up instead.”

Henry snorted a laugh. “Good thinking,” he said and lifted his mug for a sip.

*    *    *

Hakim pulled into the circular drive before the hospital and stopped before the doors. He draped an arm over the seat and looked back at Jaguar. Jaguar stared at the tan, single story building with its vast rolling green fields surrounding it and thought it was the most non-threatening building he’d ever seen. In fact, it was so nondescript, he looked at Pam’s text message again to make sure they were in the right place.

“I’ll wait for you over there,” said Hakim, pointing to a picnic table under some trees. He lifted a small cooler. “I brought my lunch.”

Jaguar nodded to the man. The taxicab dispatcher had been surprised when he’d asked for a particular driver, but Hakim Adowani was a quiet man and didn’t ply him with questions. Plus, he was an excellent driver. He hadn’t wanted to deprive his father of his only mode of transportation and he’d known he had to make this trip by himself. Sure, it was expensive, but it was only temporary. When he got back to LA, he’d get Maddog and Bruno working for him again and they always drove his limo.

“Thanks. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Hakim shrugged. “No worries. I have a book to read.”

Jaguar smiled, then pushed open the door and started for the hospital. The doors swished open as he neared, but when he came to a second set of doors, a sign on them said to push the button to the side of the entrance. The doors were clear glass and he could see past them to a reception counter and a waiting room. He stepped to the side and pressed the button.

A crackling sounded and he could see a woman at the counter bend over, talking into a microphone. “How can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here to see Nancy Osborn.”

She hesitated a moment, then she straightened and walked around the counter, headed toward him. She paused on the other side of the door, regarding him through the glass, then she pressed a button on the wall beside the door.

“Do you have some ID?” she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his driver’s license. She motioned to the slot beneath the button in the glass. He shoved the license through and waited while she inspected it. She passed the license back to him and walked away.

Jaguar wasn’t sure what was happening until she went behind the counter again and a buzzer sounded on the door. He tentatively pushed it open and stepped inside. She smiled at him. She was in her mid-thirties with her black hair wound up on top of her head. Of Asian descent, she had an open smile that complemented the teddy bear scrubs she wore.

“You’re on the list as Jerome Jarvis.” She gave him a sultry look. “But I’d recognize you anywhere, Jaguar.”

He smiled. Behind her, he caught motion and looked up. A number of nurses stood around the opening of a door, leading to the back of the building, whispering amongst themselves. He swallowed and kept the smile in place. He was used to Maddog and Bruno running interference for him, but he was on his own. Maybe he should have asked Hakim to come inside with him.

“So when’s the next album coming out?” asked the woman.

He glanced at her nametag. Nurse Trina. “I’m told we’re releasing a greatest hits album soon.”

“That’s fantastic,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “But I’m waiting for something new.”

Yeah, well, so was he, but it didn’t seem to be coming to him. “I’m working on that.” He leaned close to the counter. “I’m supposed to see Nancy Osborn.”

Her expression sobered. “Her sister told me. She’s been asking for you for a few days now. I think it’s really nice of you to do this. I know what she tried to do to you.”

He nodded, glancing at the gathering behind Trina. He wasn’t sure he was being nice, but he wanted to get on with it. This place was making his skin crawl. She bent down and wrote something, then passed it to him. He stared at her flowing script on a nametag that said Jaguar. All righty then. For the first time, he actually would have preferred Jerome.

He slapped it on his shirt pocket and beamed at her. “Can you direct me to her room?”

“I’ll show you myself,” she said. “Just follow me.”

He walked around the counter and met her on the other side, then they had to squeeze through the crowd of people in the doorway. A number of women gave him a flirtatious wink or a sultry hello, and a number of men too. He could swear someone caressed his ass as he passed through them. God, he missed Bruno and Maddog. They would have cleared this place out before he had to run the gauntlet.

Then they were in the open corridor – a gunmetal grey with nothing on the walls, no pictures, no posters, nothing but institutional blankness. The crowd followed them, the whispers loud enough to reach him. Didn’t these people have patients to attend?

Trina turned left, glancing over her shoulder occasionally to make sure he followed and to rake him up and down with her eyes. Most of the time he didn’t notice the attention when he was out in public. Most of the time he was either half-drunk or half-baked, he realized, but he was stone cold sober now. Had he ever thought this was entertaining? Had he ever been flattered by this attention? He wanted to get away, get back in the cab, and ride back to his father’s gated community.

What the hell was wrong with him? He used to love fame. He used to love the constant attention. He craved it. Hadn’t he? Or was that why he’d drank and smoked weed?

She stopped before a room with a security guard at the door. He blinked in surprise.

“We have a few people too sick to be housed in a prison hospital, but we have to have security monitor them just the same,” she told him when she caught his look of surprise. She laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. Nancy’s so far gone, she can’t hurt you.” Her fingers flexed on his arm as if she were testing his muscles. He forced himself not to pull away.

He wasn’t worried about Nancy hurting him. He just didn’t want to be here. The whole thing was strange. Terrible and strange.

She pushed open the door. “Go on in. It’ll be okay.”

Jaguar stepped past her into the darkened room. Someone rose from the side of the bed and hurried around to him, but his attention was fixed on the small, shrunken body in the bed. Nancy’s skin was grey, her eyes sunken in their sockets, her lips chapped and cracked. An IV tube ran out of her arm, but besides a heart monitor, there was nothing else attached to her. A pink floral scarf had been tied around her head, but Jaguar could see, where it had shifted, that she’d lost all of her glorious hair.

He remembered her hair, long and flowing, and her plump, curvy figure. She’d been a pretty woman when he’d seen her in the bar, bringing back memories of her as a cheerleader, disdaining him in the hallways of the high school. That night she hadn’t disdained him anymore.

Pam touched his arm. “I’m so glad you came. She’s been asking for you.”

Jaguar glanced into Pam’s face, but he couldn’t speak. He could smell something sour and dusty in the room – decay. Nancy was dying right in front of them. Her breath rattled in her chest and her eyes were closed. He could see her heart pounding beneath the thin dressing gown, her skeletal hands clasped on top of the covers.

“Come on,” Pam said, urging him to the left side of the bed where she’d set up a chair. “She can’t see out of her left eye, so you need to sit over here.”

He sank into the chair, his legs going out on him. This death was worse than his mother’s. This was a horrible way to die. He didn’t wish it on anyone, even Nancy Osborn. Pam leaned over him and touched her hands.

“Nancy, he’s here,” she said softly.

Nancy’s eyes fluttered, her lashes were gone, then they opened. She blinked a few times, the whites of her eyes shot through with red. Then she focused on him. She tried to speak, but nothing came out but a hoarse whisper. Pam grabbed a glass from the bedside table and placed the straw against her lips. She sucked on the straw for a few seconds, then licked the drops off her dry lips with a pale tongue.

Jaguar looked away.

“I didn’t think you would come,” came a voice like sandpaper over wood.

His gaze snapped back to her. “I almost didn’t,” he said.

She nodded. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you stayed away, but I’m glad you’re here.”

He sighed and watched Pam move around to the other side of the bed, adjusting Nancy’s pillows.

“I need you to forgive me for what I did.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then he looked at her. “I don’t know if I can.”

“It wasn’t about you. It wasn’t anything personal.”

“You tried to poison me. You held a gun on my mother.”

“But that wasn’t about you.”

“You killed someone, Nancy.”

She rolled her head on the pillow, looking at the ceiling. “I know. I will never be free of that guilt, but I did it for my daughter.”

“That’s a little hard for me to get my head around,” he said honestly.

She met his gaze again. “She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever done. I would do anything to protect her.”

“What did you think I was going to do? I didn’t even know I had a daughter.”

She didn’t answer for a moment, licking at her dry lips. Pam reached over with a glycerin swab and wiped them for her. She held up a hand for her sister to take. “Thank you,” she told her.

Pam took her hand, setting the swab on a side table. “Don’t exhaust yourself.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to sleep soon enough,” she said, squeezing her hand. Then she looked at Jaguar. “When you came back to Sequoia, it terrified me. Then everyone was saying you planned to stay to take care of your mother. I felt like I had to do something.”

“Kill me? Why?”

“I was so afraid you might see Sophia. If you saw her, you’d know she was yours. I couldn’t chance you’d take her away from me. I knew I was dying. I knew I didn’t have long and I didn’t want her raised by nannies in God knows where.”

“I would have given you money to help you raise her, but I’m not a father. I wouldn’t have interfered.”

“I couldn’t take a chance on it. I know what your lifestyle’s like, Jaguar. I’ve seen it.”

“You tried to tell me about her when you came to the concert in LA. Why did you change your mind?”

“They told me I had cancer and there was nothing they could do about it. It changed everything. If you knew I was dying, you’d take her away from me and I couldn’t allow that. I had to make Pam the only option. I had to be sure.”

He shook his head. “That’s insane.”

She closed her eyes again and licked at her lips. “I’m sorry you feel that.”

He met Pam’s gaze. Pam shook her head as if she knew what he was going to say, as if he would tell a dying woman her sister had no intention of raising her child. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Your forgiveness.”

He tilted back his head. “I just don’t have it in me, Nancy.”

He felt her eyes settle on him, her bloodshot, sunken eyes, and she stared at him for a long time. Finally he met her gaze because he didn’t know what else to do.

“Do you know why I didn’t shoot you or your mother?” she said.

“Zion talked you out of it.”

She shook her head on the pillow, dislodging the scarf, her bald, vulnerable head exposed to him. Pam reached up to try to straighten it, but Nancy didn’t seem to notice, her attention riveted on him.

“I didn’t shoot you or your mother because you have her eyes, Sophia’s eyes.”

Jaguar shifted in the chair. God he wanted out of here. This was too much to ask of anyone. He kept seeing the woman in the bed juxtaposed against the woman he’d bedded five years ago and he couldn’t reconcile the two.

Suddenly, Nancy made a gurgling sound and her eyes rolled up in her head, then her back arched and her hands fisted into claws. Pam dove for the bedside button and an alarm went off as Nancy’s heels drummed on the bed.

Nurse Trina stepped into the room. “We’re having another seizure,” she said, pressing the button to bring down the head of the bed. “Let’s roll her to her side.”

As she and Pam rolled Nancy to her side, Jaguar scrambled out of the chair and backed away from the bed, expecting more attendants. Unlike his mother’s last moments, only Pam and Trina were present to help Nancy. He kept looking at the door, but no one else came.

After an eternity, or so it seemed to Jaguar, Nancy quieted and Trina let her roll to her back, then she and Pam straightened the bedclothes and wiped Nancy’s mouth, elevating her head again. Jaguar realized he was breathing fast, standing against the blank wall of the room, his hands fisted at his sides. He’d have bolted if the guard wasn’t filling the door, keeping everyone else at bay.

Trina held out her hand to him. “Come back and finish your visit. She’s okay again.”

Jaguar stared at the hand, but he didn’t move. Pam gave him a disgusted look. Finally, he eased forward and took his seat again. Nancy’s eyes were closed, her breathing labored. He wasn’t sure if she was even conscious at the moment.

While Trina fussed taking her vital signs and Pam went out to refill the water pitcher, Jaguar sat in his chair and stared at Nancy’s skeletal features, the skin pulled taut over the bones. A feeling swelled within him, an assurance that no one should ever suffer like this no matter what she’d done. No one. Nancy had killed a young girl in a misguided attempt to protect their daughter, but she’d thought, in her twisted logic, that she had no choice. He didn’t understand the motive, but he understood the love behind it.

He rose to his feet and curled his hand in hers. Her eyelids fluttered and opened, staring into his gaze.

“The eyes finished me,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

“The eyes,” she whispered again.

He was faintly aware that Pam had stepped back into the room, but he ignored the other two women, pretending it was only him and Nancy present. He rubbed his thumb across the delicate bones in her hand and he leaned closer to her.

“I forgive you,” he whispered. “Nancy, I forgive you everything.”

She held his gaze for a long time, then a single tear slipped out of her eye and ran across her temple.

CHAPTER 8

Jaguar sat down on the picnic table next to the taxi driver, his feet braced on the seat. Hakim had a sandwich in his hands. He reached into the cooler and took out a second half, holding it out to Jaguar.

Jaguar shook his head. “Gluten intolerant.”

“Wow, that sucks.”

“Little bit,” he said, then he smiled at the man. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem.” Hakim put the sandwich back in the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water.

Jaguar accepted that, twisting off the lid. His attention was distracted by a sound at the door of the psych hospital. A few orderlies and nurses had stepped out, carrying coffee cups or just wandering around, but he suspected they were trying to take pictures of him.

“Fans?” asked Hakim.

“I guess.”

“I’ll be ready in a second.”

Jaguar looked out over the rolling green fields, the sun filtering through the oak trees down on him, and it felt good just to sit for a moment. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Hakim jerked a chin at the gathering crowd. “Does this happen all the time?”

“Yeah, but if I don’t write another album, it’ll probably stop.”

“Doubt it. If they recognize a celebrity, no matter who it is, they’re gonna act the fool,” groused the taxi driver. “You need a body guard.”

“I have body guards.”

“Where the hell are they?”

Jaguar braced a hand on his thigh and gave the man a hard look. Hakim was a solid fellow, hard working and reliable. If Jaguar intended to stay here for any period of time, maybe it wouldn’t be bad hiring him to drive him around and run interference. Bruno and Maddog worked for Anaconda, not him. He paid their salaries through the band, but once he decided to return them to LA, he knew they’d gone on to guard another musician.

“I sent them back to LA. It seemed silly to have them drive a limo around Sequoia.”

Hakim gave a snort of disagreement. “Better than paying for taxis all the time.”

“True,” he said, but he didn’t offer the job. He just wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be better for him to go back to LA this afternoon. Leave all of this behind until the funeral on Saturday.

“So was it hard in there?” asked Hakim.

“It wasn’t easy,” he answered. “She had a seizure while I was there.”

“No shit!”

“No shit,” he repeated.

“Man, that’s harsh.”

“Yep.” He took another sip of water. “You got family, Hakim?”

“My parents and a younger sister, Kallista. She teaches elementary school. We all still live together, help my parents out.”

Jaguar nodded, turning the bottle in his hands. “It’s just me and Pops now.” He gave a grunt. “And my daughter.”

“I read about that. That’s why the crazy woman said she poisoned people.”

Jaguar smiled at him. “That’s why. To keep me away from my daughter.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, plenty, but that’s not why she doesn’t want me around her. She thinks I’ll take Sophia to LA and leave her with nannies.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

Jaguar shook his head. “No idea. Nancy wants her sister to take her, but Pam’s overwhelmed raising three kids by herself. She wants me to take Sophia.”

“You got yourself a mess.”

Jaguar laughed. “We haven’t talked about my father yet, Hakim. You don’t know from mess.”

Hakim laughed with him. “Glad I just drive my taxi.”

*    *    *

When Jaguar got back to the house, he found Henry sitting on the couch, pictures spread on the coffee table in front of him. He held one in his hand, but when Jaguar stepped inside, he set it down and swiped a hand across his eyes.

Jaguar felt a swell of pity for his father, something he rarely remembered feeling. “Looking at old photos, huh?” he said as conversationally as he could.

Henry drew a breath and exhaled, then picked up an envelope. “The funeral director wanted some for a slide show. I haven’t looked at these in years.”

“Want some help?” asked Jaguar, crossing around the table and taking a seat on the couch next to him.

“Sure,” said Henry. He handed Jaguar the envelope. “Take a look at these. The funeral director…”

“Barry Bonds.”

Henry gave a short laugh. “Barry Bonds, right. He said he wanted 30 to 40 of them.”

Jaguar shook the ones his father had already chosen into his hand. There were ones of his mother and father on their wedding day, his mother holding him in a wheelchair as she left the hospital when he was born, and his mother with him when Jaguar had amazingly graduated from high school. There were others, though, that Jaguar didn’t remember as well. His mother on the edge of a lake, looking pensive. His mother riding on a boat, staring out over the water, the sun caressing her features. His mother feeding the ducks in the pond behind the house, her face lit with a happy smile.

“She sure liked water, didn’t she?” Jaguar said.

“Yes, she did. She always wanted to be by a lake, even when we moved here. I used to tell her, Ida, that’s a damn manmade dip of water, but she didn’t care.”

Jaguar laughed.

“She liked nature. She always did. She really liked living in the redwoods.” Henry passed him a picture of his mother with her hand on the trunk of a tree that dwarfed her a billion times over. “I think that’s why she chose Chico for college.” He glanced at Jaguar. “She coulda gone to the conservatory in San Francisco, but she turned it down. Never did understand that.”

He picked up another picture of Jaguar when he was about three with his mother dancing on the trunk of some long-gone giant sequoia. Jaguar studied the picture in his hand. She’d been such a pretty woman when she was younger.

“What was the first thing that attracted you to her?” he asked his father, half afraid to speak and break the spell, half afraid if he didn’t Henry would stop talking.

“The eyes,” they said together and laughed.

“Yeah, those eyes. At first, she scared the hell out of me. Those eyes would just stare through me, like icicles.”

“I remember some of those stares,” said Jaguar.

“She didn’t get mad at you very often.”

“Nope. Not often at all, but when she did…”

“Look out,” said Henry, smiling at his son. His smile faded. “How did it go at the hospital?”

Jaguar put the picture he held in the envelope. “I forgave her.”

“You did?”

Jaguar set the envelope on the table and let his hands dangle between his knees. “God, that’s a bad way to go. She had a seizure when I was there. She’s suffered enough for what she did.”

Henry was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “It’s good you forgave her,” he said. “No use carrying that guilt around with you.”

Jaguar nodded.

Henry leaned forward and picked up another picture. He held it up and stared at it. Jaguar looked over, seeing his mother in a garden of some kind, holding a butterfly on her finger. The butterfly was blue. He felt a shiver raced down his spine.

Ida was smiling at the insect, her face glowing with sunlight, her blue eyes crinkled in joy. Her wedding ring was visible on her hand, catching the light and sending it back.

“Where was that taken?” Jaguar asked, glancing at his father.

Henry had gone still and his face fell. “They used to have a butterfly exhibit in the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. She always liked to go and see them.”

Jaguar remembered the last time he’d taken her to the lake, the day he and his father had fought and his father had told him to get out.

“Do you see it?”

“See what, Mom?”

“The blue butterfly. Goodness, I haven’t seen one in years. It’s so pretty. So pretty. Fragile. We need to protect them better or they’ll go away and never come back.”

Jaguar hadn’t seen anything. Had she been caught in a memory, seeing things from the past, remembering a time when she’d been happy? He hoped so. God, he hoped so.

Henry handed him the picture and rose to his feet. “Can you pick out some more and put them in the envelope? I think I’m going to lay down.”

“Sure, Pops,” he said, watching Henry walk out of the room. He stared at the picture a moment longer, then put it on top of the stack in the envelope.

Reaching out, he spread the pictures with his hand and stared at the entire display. There were pictures of Ida, pictures of Jaguar and Ida, pictures of Henry and Ida, but there were no pictures of Jaguar and his father, not one. He frowned, then grabbed the box Henry had placed under the coffee table. Rifling through it, he searched for one picture of him and his father, but he found nothing.

Sitting back on the couch, he glanced toward the hallway. If anyone looked through these memories, they would believe Jaguar and Henry had led completely separate lives. The only thing that had held them together, even for a moment, was Ida.

And now Ida was gone.

*    *    *

Jaguar walked into the Caffeinator, the bell over the door tinkling. He wasn’t sure what he was doing on Main Street. It created chaos for the businesses, but he couldn’t sit at the house any longer. He needed to get out, get away from everything that reminded him of his mother.

People sat at the bistro tables or lounged on the couches, sipping coffee or eating pastries. As soon as he entered, they sat up straighter, their attention focusing on him.

Deimos, the guy who’d been with Merilee Whitmire when she died, stood behind the counter. His expression grew wary when he saw Jaguar. Jaguar didn’t fault him. Deimos had been questioned about the murder and forced to take a leave of absence from his job because of Nancy Osborn. In Deimos’ eyes, Jaguar was guilty by association.

The young girl, Tallah, worked with Deimos and her eyes grew round when he stepped into the room. She was about sixteen with curling black hair and chocolate brown skin. Zion had told him she was a straight A student and had many college prospects ahead of her. He admired that, but he didn’t understand it. School had been a bafflement to him and he’d never gotten the hang of it.

“Hey, Jaguar,” she said in a flirty voice.

Deimos gave her an arch look, but she ignored him.

“Hey, Tallah.”

“You want something to drink?”

He looked at the menu, considering, but he hadn’t really come for coffee. “No, I’m good.” He glanced at the shaggy haired Deimos. “I was wondering if Zion’s around?”

“She’s in back. I’ll tell her you’re here,” said Tallah.

The girl disappeared through the bar-room doors and left Jaguar facing Deimos. The conversation had restarted in the room, but he could hear people whispering about him. He ignored it.

“I’m glad you’re back at work,” he said to the barista.

“Dude, so am I,” answered Deimos. “But I’m surprised you’re still here. In Sequoia, I mean.”

“My mother died. The funeral’s this Saturday.”

“Dude,” said Deimos, drawing out the word. “I heard. I’m sorry. That’s bad.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Tallah appeared again. “She’s just doing books. She said for you to go on back.”

“Thanks,” he said and walked around the counter, headed for the office.

Zion looked up as he stepped inside, her curling red hair loose around her shoulders, her green eyes studying him. She got up and came around the desk, folding him in her arms. She smelled of vanilla and he closed his eyes, fighting the sudden tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in his ear.

He hugged her back, letting himself relax in her arms for a moment before he pulled away. He might have been interested in Zion if everything wasn’t so insane right now. Besides that, he really liked Tate and he suspected Tate had feelings for her.

“Thank you,” he said.

She pointed to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m good.” He sat and she went around the desk to her own chair. “I don’t mean to bother you when you’re working.”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving him off. She tucked her leg under her and clasped her hands on the blotter. “I know the funeral’s Saturday. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. My father’s having people back to the house afterwards. I hope you can make it.”

“Sure. Is there anything in particular I can bring?”

“Just yourself.”

“I’ll bring some baked goodies too and I can supply the coffee. I can bring a couple of big electric urns.”

“That would be great. I’ll pay for them.”

“No, you won’t. I’m bringing them one friend to another.”

“Thank you, Zion,” he said and stretched out his legs, clasping his hands on his belly. There was something about Zion that put people at ease. She had a soothing demeanor.

“Have you made any decisions?”

He thought about that. Had he made any decisions? He didn’t think he had. He shook his head. “Pam asked me to see Nancy Osborn.”

“She what?”

He nodded, smiling at Zion’s lowered brows. “She asked me to go see her sister in the hospital.”

“Why? What reason could she possibly have for that?”

“Nancy asked for me. She wanted me to forgive her before she dies.”

Zion leaned back in the chair. “Forgive her? Is she serious?”

“I did it.”

Zion tilted her head, but she didn’t say anything.

“I forgave her. She had a seizure when I was there and I saw how much she’s suffering. I thought it was the least I could do.”

Zion scrutinized him. He wanted to squirm. “That’s amazing, Jaguar,” she said. “I don’t know if I could have done that.”

“You would have. You definitely would have forgiven her. It’s your nature.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“What about Sophia? What are you going to do about her?”

“Pam wants me to take her once Nancy dies. She said she’d sign off on custody papers for me.”

“What do you want?”

Jaguar lifted his hands and let them fall. “That’s the question. I don’t know.”

“What about your career?”

“I don’t think I have one anymore. They’re putting out a greatest hits album. That happens just before the band members go their separate ways.”

“But you’re Anaconda, Jaguar. You’re the front man. You can have a solo career.”

He thought about that for a moment, staring at the stack of papers on her desk. “I don’t know if I want it.”

Zion didn’t immediately answer.

He looked up at her. “I don’t know if I want to do that anymore. It suddenly doesn’t seem very meaningful.”

“What would you like to do?”

He held up his empty hands. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I don’t have an education. I’ve never worked in an office. I don’t think pulling espressos is what I want to do for the rest of my life. Not that it isn’t a worthy goal.”

She laughed.

“This is all I’ve ever known.”

“You’re what? Twenty-something?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“There’s an entire world in front of you. You’ll find something.”

He bit his inner lip. “What do I do about Sophia?”

Zion exhaled heavily. “That’s hard. She’s about to lose her mother. She needs stability and patience.”

“In other words, not me.”

Zion gave him a warm smile. “That’s not what I said, now is it?”

“No, but it’s what you were thinking.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. When you first came here, I thought you were an arrogant ass.”

Jaguar gave her an amused look.

“I still think that.”

He laughed.

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

“I worked your demon espresso machine.”

“You snapped your fingers at people.”

Jaguar acquiesced that one with a nod.

“What I was going to say is after working with you, I saw so much more. I saw a man not afraid to do hard labor. I saw a man who looked after his friends. I saw a man with great loyalty.”

He realized he needed to hear these things. His mother had always been his biggest cheerleader, but without her, he’d begun to feel alone.

“I saw a man who is talented and gifted and has a lot to offer the world. I also saw a man who has patience. I think you can be all those things for Sophia if that’s what you want. I think you can be a father to her.”

He considered that. He still didn’t think that ripping her away from her aunt was the best idea. She didn’t even know him and she was expected to suddenly address him as her father. “I don’t even know how to go about this.”

“Well, I think you start with meeting her. Then you spend some time with her. I’d take it slow, Jaguar. I wouldn’t expect her to suddenly call you Daddy the first day.”

He nodded, taking it all in. Zion was right, but then he’d already figured this out himself. “You know, you’re a good friend.”

She smiled, her freckles standing out against her pale skin. “I consider you my friend too, Jaguar.”

“If you ever need anything, you know where to come.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’d better go. I’m sure there’s some last minute things to take care of before the funeral.”

Zion rose also and came around the desk, putting her hands on his shoulders. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll figure it out. I believe in you,” she told him.

He hugged her and he realized he needed someone who believed in him because he wasn’t sure he believed in himself.

CHAPTER 9

The day of the funeral dawned sunny and bright, no clouds to mar the beauty of a blue sky, no wind to toy with clothing or hair. Hakim picked up Jaguar and his father in front of their house. Henry had been quiet most of the morning, until he saw the taxi.

“Waste of money. We can drive the car.”

Jaguar opened the back door. “Just humor me. You don’t like my driving, I don’t like yours, and Hakim drives better than the both of us.”

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis,” said Hakim with a smile. He wore a dark suit today. Jaguar hadn’t asked him to do that, but it was a nice touch. “I know this is a difficult day. I’m happy to drive you, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Henry gave a noncommittal grunt as Jaguar climbed in beside him.

“Thank you, Hakim,” Jaguar answered, fussing with his tie. He never wore one and he hated the way it pinched his neck.

Hakim pulled the car around and headed for the entrance to the gated community. Jaguar brushed a bit of lint off his suit pants and straightened the coat, trying to smooth out wrinkles. He’d bought the suit off the rack in Visalia and hadn’t had time to have it altered. He hadn’t expected to need a suit.

He forced his mind away from what was going to come today. Staring out the window, he watched the redwood trees go by. Once in a while, it struck him how beautiful his hometown was. There was a serenity here, a quiet, as if everything was hushed in the presence of so much majesty.

“Stop fussing!” growled Henry beside him. “You act as if you’ve never worn a tie before.”

Jaguar glanced over at his father in surprise. He could see Hakim’s dark eyes watching them in the rearview mirror.

Jaguar thought about it. He didn’t ever remember wearing a tie very often. His mother hadn’t been big on going to church or other places where such attire had been necessary. Once she’d gotten him a tie to wear to the symphony, but that was the last time he could remember putting one on.

Rather than bristle at his father’s surly tone, he laughed. “I guess I haven’t. Not often. I looked up how to tie it on the internet.”

Henry’s scowl deepened, but Hakim’s eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement. “Me too,” he said, laughing with Jaguar.

Henry’s features softened and he gave a ghost of a smile. “Probably should have taught you myself,” he said and Jaguar had to admit it was the first time his father had ever admitted to a parenting lapse.

Jaguar shrugged. “I’d look pretty silly in a suit and tie, writhing around on a stage.”

Henry’s smile broadened, then faded and he went back to looking out the car window. Just when Jaguar thought they’d made a connection, it passed.

Henry surprised him when he suddenly cleared his throat. “Your mother always wanted to go to one of your concerts.”

Jaguar wasn’t sure he heard him correctly, Henry was still facing the window. “Why didn’t you?”

“I told her it was devil music.”

Jaguar frowned at that. Henry hadn’t been overly religious when Jaguar was growing up, but he’d always called Jaguar’s music devil music.

“I caught her watching a video online one time. I wish I’d let her go.” He glanced over at Jaguar. “I should have let her go.”

Jaguar didn’t respond. He didn’t think Henry wanted a response.

They fell silent and a few minutes later, they pulled up before the Methodist church where Henry had arranged to have Ida’s memorial service held. The front of the building was covered with reporters, cameras, and news vans.

“Shit,” whispered Jaguar, knowing this was the sort of circus Henry would not want. He was relieved when Tate Mercer pushed his way through the scrum and came to the taxi, opening the door for Henry.

Behind Tate was Sheriff Wilson and Deputy Emilio Vasquez, holding back the reporters, while Deputy Samantha Murphy came around to his side of the taxi. Jaguar got out and Sam clapped a hand on his elbow, directing him toward the entrance.

“I’ll park the taxi and meet you inside,” called Hakim before Tate slammed the door shut.

Jaguar didn’t have time to answer as reporters called out to him for a statement or snapped pictures, or shoved video cameras in his face. Wilson and Vasquez closed in behind him as they jogged up the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have released your bodyguards,” snarled Sam in his ear. “We don’t have time for this.”

Jaguar wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. He hadn’t expected this. Then they were inside the church and the doors were shut behind them. However, the vestibule was filled with people, milling around in their finery. Jaguar recognized a number of them, but the bulk separated to welcome Henry with quiet hugs and whispered words of condolence.

Sam released him and Tate moved to his side. He gave Jaguar a sympathetic look. “You okay?”

Jaguar drew a deep breath and blew out. “Sure,” he said.

Zion detached herself from the crowd and came over to him. She and Tate exchanged a look that Jaguar wasn’t sure he could interpret, then she hugged him. He hugged her in return, aware of the man standing next to him.

“Thank you for coming,” he said to her.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Jaguar looked up and saw Deimos and Tallah with her parents, the hulking Dwayne Ford and the stunningly attractive Cheryl. He lifted a hand to them. They returned the gesture. A moment later he found himself engulfed in a hug by a blue cotton-candy haired Dottie.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she whispered in his ear, hugging him tighter.

Jaguar gave Zion a surprised look. He’d gotten the impression that Zion’s baker hated him. “Thank you, Dottie,” he said, patting her back. “I appreciate you coming today.”

She released him, smoothing her hands over the lapels on his jacket. “You clean up real nice, young man,” she said, then she squeezed Zion’s hand and went over to Henry.

Zion smiled after her. “She’s a tough cookie to crack, but once you’re in her inner circle, she’ll stand beside you no matter what.”

Jaguar nodded, but his attention was distracted by the appearance of Barry Bonds in the inner doorway. He held up his hand for silence and the room quieted. “We’re ready to begin if you’d like to step inside.”

Jaguar hesitated. He didn’t want to go into the church. His father had opted for a closed casket and no viewing, but it still seemed awful to go in there and say his last goodbyes to the woman who’d given him life.

Zion moved to his other side and looped her arm through his and Tate laid a hand on his shoulder. Henry glanced back at him briefly as he was guided into the room by a group of woman who’d played Bunco with his mother.

As soon as Jaguar entered the church, he saw nothing but the casket. He didn’t notice the stained-glass windows depicting Bible scenes, or the white pews with their royal blue seat cushions, or the altar with a royal blue cloth draped over it.

Henry had picked a white casket. Flowers had been placed on all sides of the casket with a drape of blue carnations over the casket itself. He and Henry had picked that out in Barry Bonds’ office the other day.

The photo of his mother with the butterfly had been blown up by Jim Dawson at the Cut & Print and placed on an easel to the right of the coffin. Jaguar’s steps faltered and he felt Tate shift his hold to his elbow. Zion looked up at him, moving closer to his side.

“She was a beautiful woman,” she said softly.

Jaguar looked down at her, not sure he understood what she was saying.

“Your mother,” she said, jerking her head toward the picture. “She was beautiful.”

He nodded, unable to speak. He watched as the women deposited his father in the front pew on the left. He drew a deep breath and forced himself to follow, taking a seat next to his father. Zion and Tate slipped into the pew behind him and he could see Sheriff Wilson take up a position on the side of the room. Henry had his head bowed, his hands clasped in his lap, his breathing labored.

Jaguar wanted to loosen the tie. He felt like he was suffocating, but he forced his hands to still on his thighs. He looked up as a man in an ornate white robe stepped up to the podium behind the casket and cleared his throat for attention. The Reverend Paul Blanchard was a tall man with broad shoulders and a bald crown. A wreath of hair ran across his head near the line of his ears and his bald pate gleamed in the light bathing him from above. He shook back his long sleeves and his hands were enormous. He might have been a linebacker in a previous existence.

“Welcome everyone,” he said when the crowd had quieted. Jaguar shifted and looked over his shoulder.

Every pew was filled and people stood around the perimeter of the room. His eyes lighted on Hakim, sitting a few rows behind him. The taxi driver gave a nod of his head. Behind Hakim were Jim Dawson and his wife, Minnie. They held up a hand to him and Jaguar felt warmed by the gesture and their presence. He faced forward again.

“On behalf of the Jarvis family, I want to thank you for attending Ida Jarvis’ celebration of life ceremony. Mr. Jarvis would like to invite everyone back to his house for refreshments after the interment at the cemetery.”

Henry’s hands tightened until his knuckles went white, but he kept his head bowed.

“I’d like to read a few passages of scripture.” Pastor Blanchard cleared his throat again and opened a Bible on the podium. Jaguar stared at the casket, wondering at the utter incongruity of sitting here in a church with his mother’s mortal remains just a few feet from him. The pastor’s droning faded to the background as Jaguar thought about a time when he’d been about eleven.

He’d failed a test at school and had been hiding in the backyard, avoiding his father. He knew the man would be furious with him once he found out and he always found out.

Some previous owner’s child had built a makeshift fort far back in the yard under the redwood trees and he’d only discovered it a few months before when he’d been exploring. A box hedge had been planted before the redwood grove to distinguish the lawn from the rest of the yard and he’d crawled through a break in the hedge and found it.

He sat on the particle board floor and strummed on his guitar. He’d dragged his sleeping bag out here the day before so he’d have a cushion to sit upon. He could hear the wind chimes his mother had hung from the eaves of the house tinkling in the breeze and he used that to guide his fingers on the strings.

He’d lost himself in the music when he heard a rustling in the box hedge. His fingers stilled and he stared at the opening to the fort, his heart tapping out a staccato rhythm beneath his ribs. Henry had never struck him, but his shouting made something inside Jaguar cringe.

He breathed a sigh of relief when his mother’s head appeared and she crawled into the fort next to him, sitting down on the sleeping bag. He stared at the guitar, not daring to look at her, afraid he’d see reproach in her eyes.

“I wondered when you’d find this place,” she told him.

“How did you know where I was?”

“I heard the music.”

He didn’t answer, just ran his fingers across the strings.

“You’re improving every day,” she said, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. “I like to listen to you play.”

He gave her a half-smile.

“Any reason you’re hiding out here?”

“I put the test on the table like he told me,” he said. “You saw it, right?”

“I saw it.” She sighed and stroked his hair above his ear with her nails. He wanted to press into her touch, but he was too old for that now. “It was downright awful, wasn’t it?”

He looked at her in surprise.

She was smiling.

“Yeah, it was awful,” he agreed.

“You’d think just guessing you might do better.”

They both laughed, then he sobered.

“He’s going to kill me.”

She draped her arm around his shoulders. “He’s not going to kill you.”

“He’ll yell at me until I wish I was dead.”

That got a snort of laughter. “Maybe. He just wants you to try harder.”

“I try.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“Well, I want to try. It’s just so boring.”

She nodded. “Here’s the thing, my love,” she said, bracing her forehead against his. “In order to do the things we enjoy doing, we have to do the things we hate, the things we find boring.” She touched the guitar with her free hand. “You’ve got to pass school so you can play. You know how you practice for hours on this?”

He nodded.

“Well, put a little of that dedication into your schoolwork and you’ll see improvement.”

“It won’t be enough,” he said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’ll still hate me.”

“Your father doesn’t hate you. He worries for you. He wants more for you.”

He met her blue eyes. “Why can’t it just be us? Why does he have to be here?”

She recoiled, her arm dropping from his shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“I wish it was just the two of us. Why does he have to be here? He hates it here. He hates me.”

“Jerome!” she said sharply. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

He looked down at the guitar, plucking the strings.

Her fingers moved through his hair again. “Please don’t talk like that, my love. Please. Your father’s trying his hardest for us.”

“I don’t see why it can’t just be us,” he grumbled.

She kissed his temple. “Because he needs me too. Just like you, he needs me.”

Jaguar blinked and jerked himself back to the present. The pastor had finished his Bible reading and had fallen silent, staring over the crowd.

“I knew Ida personally,” Pastor Blanchard said, making Jaguar frown. His mother had never been one to attend church regularly. What did this man mean?

“Ida came to me a few years ago with a plan. She wanted to provide meals to elderly people who were homebound, unable to get out and get their own food. We started our own meal program here in Sequoia. At one point, we were providing regular meals to over forty people.”

Why hadn’t he known this? It seemed like a pretty big thing that she hadn’t told him.

“Ida was a rare woman. She accepted everyone no matter what their orientation or beliefs or ethnic background. I wish we all could be so accepting in our own lives.” He stared over the crowd and a few people murmured affirmations. Finally, he cleared his throat again. “Would anyone else like to speak about Ida?”

There followed a line of people, most of whom Jaguar had never seen before, all who rose and went to the podium, talking about something his mother had done for them. Even Jim and Minnie Dawson shared a story. Jaguar sat in awe beside his father, listening to the things his mother had done, things he’d never known about her. Henry kept his head bowed, his shoulders rounded throughout the whole thing, his hands clasped so hard it must hurt.

“One of us needs to say something,” came his low voice.

Jaguar blinked and looked over at him. “What?”

“One of us needs to talk.” He glanced up at Jaguar, then down again. “I’m no good at it, but you’ve been up in front of thousands of people. You need to do it.”

Jaguar went still. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to go up there and say things about his mother. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak. He felt a cold sweat pepper his back and his palms grew clammy. He wiped them on the suit pants and reached up, fussing with the tie.

“Please,” whispered Henry.

Pastor Blanchard returned to the podium. “Thank you, everyone. Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?”

Jaguar closed his eyes briefly, trying to get up the courage, then he rose, smoothing down the suit jacket to give himself time to think, but nothing would come to him. If he’d have known his father expected this, he would have prepared something, but he hadn’t. Drawing a deep breath, he headed for the stairs. The casket was right next to him and he laid his hand on it for a moment. He could feel the hush in the room. God, he wished he’d known he was going to have to do this because nothing would come to him now.

Pastor Blanchard gave him a kind smile and backed up as Jaguar stepped up to the podium. He looked out over the assembly and couldn’t believe how many people had come to say goodbye to his mother.

White noise filled his head and for the first time in his life, he felt a flutter of stage fright. He didn’t have anything prepared and this wasn’t like performing. He couldn’t retreat into a made-up persona. For the first time in years, he was just Jerome Jarvis, not Jaguar, not a fictional character. He could see their expectant faces, their anxious looks. They didn’t want him to fail and he couldn’t. This time he couldn’t afford not to succeed.

“When my mother was a girl, she wanted a duck for a pet,” he said, speaking off the top of his head.

A few people chuckled and nearly everyone smiled.

“I didn’t know this until recently. We were by the pond and she was watching the ducks when she told me.” He looked down at the casket, the fact that she was gone hitting him all over again. “I asked her why she’d want a duck rather than a dog or cat and she said they imprint upon you when they’re babies.” He paused, forcing himself to look up again. “Today, I’ve been sitting here.” He motioned to the pew where his father was. “And I’ve heard your stories about her, about the imprint she made on your lives, and I realize I only knew a part of her. I only knew the part that affected me.”

He looked back at the pastor. “Pastor Blanchard mentioned that my mother was accepting. That she never judged people for who or what they were.” He felt his throat tighten and he closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. “She was that way with me too. No matter what, my mother showed me only acceptance. Not that she didn’t tell me when I was wrong. She had no problem doing that too.”

More people laughed.

“But she always told me to be myself. To do what I thought was right. To…” He gave a little laugh. “…march to my own drummer, which, obviously, I did.”

The crowd joined him in laughter and Henry looked up, watching him for the first time.

Jaguar’s eyes filled with tears and he didn’t try to hold them back. “I miss her. I miss the woman who dressed in the latest fashions, who played the violin, who taught me to have music in my soul. I miss the woman who loved to feed the ducks and saw the absolute beauty in a butterfly.” His voice choked and he cleared it. “I miss my mother.” Then he closed his eyes. His chest felt so tight, he thought he’d suffocate, but he drew a breath, then another, and the tightness eased. “I want to thank you all for the kind stories you told. I will carry them with me forever. You’ve given my father and me a rare gift.”

With that, he nodded to Pastor Blanchard and stepped away from the podium.

*    *    *

Hakim drove them to the cemetery. Henry didn’t say anything on the ride over, but once Hakim pulled up before the gravesite and put the taxi in park, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small silver flask. As Jaguar watched in amazement, he unscrewed the lid and threw back a swig, then he passed it to his son.

Jaguar took it without comment and brought it to his own mouth. He was surprised when tequila poured onto his taste buds. He coughed and handed it back. “Tequila?”

“My favorite. Patron. Nothing like it. It’s always been my drink of choice.”

Jaguar laughed. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. I didn’t want you sneaking it. I still hide it on the top shelf of my closet.”

Jaguar laughed again, watching Henry take a swig. He passed the flask back and Jaguar took another hit himself.

“This has been the worst day,” said Henry. “And it’s about to get worse.”

Jaguar looked out at the gravesite. People were starting to arrive and the hearse had just pulled up. “Yeah, I hate this part.” He dropped his gaze to his father. “Come on. We’ll do this together.”

Hakim glanced at him through the rearview mirror, then he opened the driver’s side door and got out, hurrying around to Henry’s door and opening it. Henry put the flask back in his jacket as Jaguar opened his own door. Reaching over, Henry laid a hand on Jaguar’s forearm, stopping him.

“You did good,” he said.

Jaguar looked back at him, not sure he’d heard him correctly, but he knew not to question Henry.

“You did good speaking for your mother,” Henry clarified.

Jaguar smiled, then Henry released him. As Jaguar crossed around the front of the taxi, Hakim gave him a curious look.

“I wonder where all the paparazzi are?” he said.

Jaguar looked out at the cemetery. Except for the locals and the pastor, he didn’t see any news cameras or reporters gathered around the grave. “Maybe Sheriff Wilson stopped them at the entrance,” he said, but he didn’t remember seeing a patrol car when they entered.

“Filthy bastards,” grumbled Henry, starting toward the gravesite. “Can’t even let a family grieve in peace.”

Jaguar followed him, marveling that Henry had thought of them as a family. That had never occurred to him before.

*    *    *

Jaguar felt subdued when they returned to his parents’ house. The graveside service had been short, but the sight of his mother’s coffin lowering into the grave would be with him for the rest of his life. He and Hakim got his father into his recliner in the living room and Jaguar went into the kitchen to start laying out the food the neighbors had brought by earlier.

Zion found him there and she and Dottie wordlessly began setting up the coffee and baked goods they’d brought. Jaguar was grateful for that. He didn’t feel like talking at the moment. When he returned to the living room to check on his father, he found him with Hakim, talking about cars. The doorbell rang and he went to answer it, letting Jim and Minnie Dawson into the house.

Minnie kissed his cheek and Jim shook his hand, headed for the kitchen to deposit their food. After that other people began arriving and Jaguar was kept busy getting people drinks or receiving condolences. A number of people brought plants or flowers and he wasn’t sure where to put it all or what he and his father were going to do with it.

Finally Zion brought him a plate of food and Tate brought him a beer. He and Tate took seats at the picnic table in his parents’ small backyard. Jaguar looked at the food on his plate, but he suddenly didn’t have an appetite. He picked up the beer and downed half the bottle.

“This is when I’d really like a bong-hit,” he said to Tate.

Tate laughed. “I can’t help you there. Never been one for smoking pot.”

“I hear Deimos quit too?”

“Yep. Not a puff since he was a suspect.” Tate jerked his chin at the plate. “You need to eat something.”

Jaguar nodded, staring at the food, then he picked up the plastic fork and dished up a bite of potato salad. He supposed it was good, but he didn’t really want it.

“Are you going back to LA now?”

Jaguar shrugged. “I think so. I’m going to see what Pops wants to do. I mean, I don’t know if he wants to keep the house or sell it, then I’m headed back to my condo. If I’m not careful, I won’t have a career anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess you sort of need to get back at it. You’ve been incommunicado for a while now. What do you think your father’s going to do?”

Jaguar scratched the back of his head. He’d discarded the tie and jacket, rolling up his white shirt sleeves to his forearms. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. That’s not really our thing.” He took another bite. “Talking, I mean.”

“Yeah, same thing with my father.”

“Difficult, huh?”

Tate took a sip of beer. “You might say that. My father has a very particular belief about male versus female roles and when I gave up being a cop, it was a personal insult to his sense of masculinity. Somehow my decision put his manhood into question.”

Jaguar smiled, holding up his beer. “From one failure to another,” he said and they clinked bottles. Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He’d put it on silent for the service, but he could feel it vibrating against his thigh. He dug it out and looked at the display.

Pam Rosen. Nancy Osborn’s sister.

He frowned and thumbed it on, holding it to his ear. “Pam?”

“They’re all over the house, trying to take pictures though the curtains. I can’t even get out of the driveway and they won’t stop banging on the door.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Across the table, Tate went still.

“The damn news people. They’re all over the house. They even got into the backyard. They won’t leave me alone!” He could hear the panic in her voice. “The kids are terrified.”

“Okay, Pam, I’m on my way. Can you send me your address?”

“This is your fault!” she said, almost sobbing. “This isn’t what I wanted!”

“Pam, please, send me your address. I’m on my way.”

“Hurry!” she said and hung up.

Jaguar climbed out of the seat. “The paparazzi showed up at Nancy’s sister’s house.” His phone buzzed with a text message and he looked down, seeing the address. “I’ve got to get over there.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Tate, “and I’ll call Sheriff Wilson to meet us there with all the patrols he can muster.”

“Thank you,” said Jaguar headed into the house. He found Hakim still talking with his father, arguing over some sports team that Jaguar had never heard of before. Hakim looked up as Jaguar hunkered beside his father’s chair. “I have to go over to Pam Rosen’s house. The paparazzi showed up there. That’s why they weren’t at the gravesite.”

“Why did they go there?” asked Henry.

“I don’t know, but I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Pops. Leave everything and I’ll clean up when I get back.”

Henry grabbed his forearm. “You shouldn’t go over there alone.”

“I’ll drive him,” said Hakim, setting his beer on the coffee table and rising.

“And Tate’s going too. He’s calling the sheriff for help.”

Henry nodded distractedly and released his arm. “Be careful,” he said and Jaguar realized that was another thing he’d never heard his father say before.

CHAPTER 10

By the time Hakim drove up in front of the small ranch style home on the outskirts of Sequoia, Sheriff Wilson and Sam Murphy had arrived. They’d forced the paparazzi off Pam’s front yard and they gathered in the street, milling around. Jaguar wasn’t sure where these people had all come from. Besides the Sequette and a few local television stations, he didn’t think Sequoia had this many journalists.

Tate was at his car door before he could get up his courage. He knew his daughter was in that house – a daughter he’d never seen before. He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her like this, under these circumstances.

Tate had chosen to drive his own truck over, since neither of them were sure how long they might be. He pulled open the door and motioned Jaguar to climb out. As soon as he did so, all cameras turned in his direction and he felt his stomach lurch upward. Good thing he hadn’t eaten much.

Reporters started toward him, but Vasquez and another patrol officer stopped them. Still, the paparazzi pelted him with questions as Tate led him up the walkway to the door. Sheriff Wilson waited on the porch steps next to Sam Murphy and Jaguar could feel Sam’s disapproving look rake over him.

As soon as he neared the door, it flew open and Pam stood on the other side. With Tate on his left side and Wilson and Murphy at his back, he stepped through into a dark family room with 70’s paneling and shag carpeting on the floor.

Pam moved to the middle of the room, her arms crossed around her waist. She wore an oversized sweater, pajama bottoms, and her hair was in a messy ponytail. Her nose was red and her eyes were bloodshot.

Wilson closed the door behind him. “We’ll keep them out on the street until they get bored and leave,” he told Pam. “I wish I could tell them to get lost, but First Amendment and all that.” He held out his hands in a gesture of futility, then tucked his thumbs into his belt again.

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” said Pam, her voice rough as if she’d been crying.

Jaguar glanced around the room. A little girl, about five, clung to Pam’s leg, her dark eyes staring up at him with fright. This couldn’t be Sophia because Nancy had said her daughter had Jaguar’s pale blue eyes. Behind Pam and her daughter were two little boys, watching the people in the family room with a mixture of fear and interest.

Wilson turned to Murphy and muttered something about a bear, then Sam Murphy went to the front door and left. Jaguar took another look around, but he saw no other children. He felt a tightening in his gut. Where was Sophia?

“What happened? Why did they show up here?” he asked Pam.

She gave him a withering look. “Because Nancy died this morning.”

He recoiled and Wilson made a sighing sound. Then Jaguar stepped closer to Pam. “I’m sorry, Pam.”

“They want to know what her last words were, how she died, whether she made any other confessions.” She gave a hitching sob and laid her hand on the little girl’s back. “They’ve been shouting things at me for hours. Terrible things. Like did I also want to kill people.”

“Pam…”

“No!” She jabbed a finger at him. “This is your fault! All of this is your fault!”

Jaguar wasn’t sure how, but he wasn’t going to argue. She was distraught and had a reason to be. At that moment, he caught motion from the corner of his eye. He glanced over to the archway that led to a small dining room. A little girl peeked around the corner. He could see a glorious head of brown hair and one startling blue eye.

He felt his knees go weak as he stared at her. Nancy had been right. The child had his eyes. He must have swayed because Wilson put a hand under his elbow.

“Steady, young man,” he said.

Jaguar wanted to speak, he wanted to go over to her, but he felt paralyzed. He hadn’t given the child much thought, certainly not the amount of thought she deserved, but now a riot of emotions were crowding his head at the same time and he couldn’t pull a single one to the forefront.

The door opened at his back, but he didn’t turn to see who stepped inside. Then Sam Murphy walked around him, holding a bag of teddy bears. She took one out and hunkered down in front of the child clinging to her mother.

“Can she have one? We keep them in our patrol car for scared kids.”

Pam nodded, stroking her hand down the child’s hair. “Go ahead, Amanda,” she urged.

Amanda reached out and took the bear. Then Sam brought out two more and held them out to the little boys. The older one came forward and took the bears, passing one to his little brother. Jaguar watched the exchange, watched Amanda stroke her cheek against the bear’s soft fur, but he still couldn’t formulate a coherent response.

Finally Tate stirred and moved around him, holding out his hand to Murphy. “Can I have one of those?”

Sam passed him one, then straightened from her crouch. Tate carried the bear over to a rundown couch and took a seat closest to the archway where Sophia hid. He fluffed the bear’s fur and straightened an ear. Then he held it out to the little girl.

“This guy needs a home. He’s scared of all the noise and really needs a hug. You think you can take care of him for me?”

The little girl’s eyes shifted from Jaguar to Tate and back again, then she eyed the bear.

Tate stroked the fur between the bear’s ears. “He’s shaking, he’s so nervous with all those people outside. He really needs someone to hold him.”

Pam disentangled herself from her daughter, taking her hand and leading her over to the couch. She hunkered down next to Tate, holding out her free hand. “Come here, Sophia. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

The little girl ran to her aunt and Pam pulled her close, brushing back the thick brown hair.

“Take the bear, honey,” she urged.

Sophia took the bear from Tate. “Thank you,” she said in a little voice.

Tate smiled at her.

Sophia hugged the bear close, burying her face in its fur. Pam released her daughter and turned Sophia, pointing at Jaguar. “Sophia, I want you to meet someone.” She nodded for Jaguar to come closer.

Somehow Jaguar got his legs moving and he walked over to the couch, sinking down next to Tate. Pam stroked Sophia’s hair away from her face. She was a pretty child -- delicate features and a wealth of hair. And those large blue eyes were stunning. Emotion swamped Jaguar and he swallowed, trying to contain it.

“Sophia, this is Jaguar,” Pam said, pointing at Jaguar.

Sophia stared at him unblinking and Jaguar wanted to squirm. The idea of her being his child seemed alien, but he couldn’t deny it now. No one could, seeing her eyes. His mother’s eyes. He sucked in a shivery breath.

Pam pressed a kiss to the child’s temple. “He’s your father, Sophia,” she whispered.

***

He’s your father.

Jaguar stared at the ceiling above his bed and tried to find shapes in the texture. They hadn’t stayed long and Sophia hadn’t talked to him, but Sheriff Wilson had assured Pam that they would maintain a police presence until the paparazzi left. Having Jaguar leave drew some of them away and they milled outside the gated community, making a nuisance of themselves.

Pam had made him promise to meet her the next day at the Caffeinator to discuss Sophia and Jaguar’s roll in her life. She’d changed her mind about giving him full-custody, she said, but she still wanted him to be involved. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he didn’t want to remove Sophia from the only home she had. She was obviously bonded to her aunt and her aunt’s children, and after her mother’s death, it probably wasn’t a good idea to make changes too quickly.

A clatter sounded from the kitchen and Jaguar threw back the covers, climbing out of bed. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then he padded barefoot through the dark hallway and across the living room to the doorway of the kitchen. Henry was making himself a plate of food with the leftovers from the wake.

He looked up when Jaguar appeared in the doorway. “Want something?” he asked, motioning to the turkey he had on a fork.

“Sure,” said Jaguar, taking a seat at the table. He realized this was the first time he’d felt hungry all day.

Henry piled food onto two plates and carried them to the table, setting one in front of his son, then he took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Jaguar got up and went to the fridge, pulling open the door.

“Want a soda?”

“Sure,” said Henry.

Jaguar brought two tin cans back to the table, handing one to his father, then he popped his open and took a sip. Henry pushed the food around his plate with his fork, finally taking a bite. Jaguar did the same and they ate in silence for a while. After they’d both cleared their plates, Henry sat back, his eyes settling on his son.

“How’d it go at the sister’s house today?”

Jaguar blew out air, leaning back in his own chair. “Nancy died. The paparazzi showed up, demanding Pam tell them what Nancy’s last words were. They said some other awful things and scared the kids.”

“Did you see the girl?”

“Sophia?”

Henry nodded, reaching for his soda can.

“Yeah. She wouldn’t talk to me, but I met her. Pam says she doesn’t want to give me full custody anymore.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Jaguar shrugged. “I really don’t know.” He traced a finger over the line on a tattoo, a musical note. “I mean, I don’t think I’m necessarily equipped to take care of a child, but…” He shook his head. “Something changed looking at her. I mean, before she was an abstract and now, she’s real.”

Henry nodded. “I get that. I keep thinking I have a granddaughter, but it’s not really set in yet.”

“Yeah.” Jaguar looked out at the darkened yard.

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

“Well, that and today.” He stretched. “Today or yesterday was harder than I thought it would be.”

“It was,” said Henry, his eyes going distant as he stared at the table. “I just keep thinking I’m going to wake up and she’ll be here. I can’t get my head around a world where she isn’t in it.”

Jaguar didn’t say anything for a moment. He and his father were overdue for a long talk, but he hated to break the detente between them. Still, it had to be done. They had some decisions to make.

“Pops?”

Henry’s gaze snapped to his face.

“We need to talk about something and I need you not to get angry.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Speak your peace, son.”

“I have a condo in LA. I need to get back there and salvage whatever career I have left. What do you think of selling this place and you moving down there with me?”

Henry gave him a closed-mouth smile. “I think I’d be miserable in a city that big. No, I think I’ll stay here. There’s nothing in LA for me.”

Except a son, Jaguar thought, but he didn’t voice it.

“I know you need to get back and I appreciate you going through this with me.”

He appreciated it? What the hell? Ida had been his mother. Of course he was going to go through it with him. But rather than lash out, Jaguar held his tongue. Henry was trying to show gratitude and Jaguar knew it didn’t come easy for him.

He traced the tattoo on his arm again. Then he rose to his feet and gathered the plates, going to the sink to wash them. He didn’t know why he was disappointed. He’d known Henry would never agree to come with him, but he hadn’t even pretended to give it any thought.

When Jaguar turned back, Henry had left the room. He wandered back to his own room and grabbed his guitar, sinking into the chair at a desk he’d rarely used growing up. When his parents had moved into this house years ago, they recreated his room exactly as it had been at every other place they’d lived. He guessed it had never occurred to them he was a grown man now.

He strummed his fingers across the guitar and his thoughts turned to Nancy. He had so many conflicting emotions about her. She was the mother of his child, but she’d tried to kill him. Yet, she’d thought she was protecting that child by doing so. It was a convoluted rationalization, he knew, but she was dying, so who was he to judge her feelings of desperation?

He couldn’t deny she’d loved Sophia. She’d done everything for the little girl.

A lyric niggled at the back of his mind and he pulled open the desk drawer, looking for a pad of paper and a pencil. He found both and set them on the desktop, then he flipped open the pad. Strumming his fingers along the strings, he thought of Nancy’s sacrifice, her drive to do everything in her power to protect her daughter. Finally, he lifted the pencil and he wrote the first lyrics he’d written in years.

***

Jaguar and Hakim showed up to the Caffeinator early. He wanted to be in place before Pam showed up and he wanted to see if the paparazzi would follow him. Zion and Dottie both came out from behind the counter and hugged him in turn.

“What are you doing here?” Zion asked.

“Meeting Pam to talk about Sophia.”

“Tate told me what happened yesterday. Are you all right?”

Jaguar rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. I mean, I don’t know. Yesterday wasn’t a great day.”

Dottie reached up and touched his cheek. “Today will be better.”

“I hope so.”

“It will. I’m trying a new gluten free recipe in your honor. I’ll bring you a sample with a café au lait.”

He smiled at her. “You’re spoiling me, Dottie.”

“You deserve a little spoiling right now,” she said and went back behind the counter to whip up his drink.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Zion looked around him at the taxi driver. “What can I get you? It’s on the house.”

“Coffee black,” he said. “Thank you.” Touching Jaguar’s shoulder, he motioned to the tables Zion had set up outside the coffee shop. “I’ll wait out there. That way I can spot the paparazzi if they start in this direction.”

Jaguar gave the taxi driver a grateful nod and realized he would have hired Hakim on the spot yesterday if he didn’t plan on going back to LA. As it was, he was spending a fortune in taxi fare, but he didn’t care right now.

He took his favorite seat in the window and stared out at Main. He could see Jim Dawson’s Cut & Print across the street and he wondered if he should stop in and thank his old teacher for the kindness he’d shown him lately.

A moment later, Dottie set a plate in front of him with what looked like a bear claw and his favorite café au lait. “Gluten free. We’re getting quite a few people asking for it now. Let me know what you think. I want you to be completely honest.”

He smiled at her again. “Thank you, Dottie.”

She touched his shoulder, then moved back behind the counter. Jaguar tore off a piece and put it in his mouth, although he felt anything but hungry. He couldn’t believe how nervous he was meeting Pam today. He chewed and swallowed, then gave Dottie a thumbs up. It really was good, but then he’d known Dottie was a pro at baking.

She beamed at him and nudged Zion. Zion beamed as well.

He focused his attention out the window again. A number of people entered the coffee shop, some of them giving him curious looks. He ignored them, sipping his coffee, his mind preoccupied by the song about Nancy that he’d begun writing the previous night.

You gave your life.

You gave your soul.

Did you know?

Did you see?

Blue eyes.

Shadows.

Shadows behind blue eyes.

He didn’t think Nancy had made the right choice, but he couldn’t deny she’d sacrificed everything for their daughter. He’d never had anyone in his life that he’d do that for, that he’d even considered sacrificing for.

He could hear the melody in his head. He could see the notes in his mind’s eye. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been motivated to write.

He blinked as the chimes tinkled over the door and Pam stepped through. Her eyes scanned the shop, then came to rest on him. She wore a pair of shorts and a baggy sweater, her hair still in the messy ponytail. No makeup on her face. She walked over and slid into the chair across from him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he answered. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, her nose pink and raw looking. “The kids at the Y?”

“Yeah. They take swimming lessons and tennis.”

“Have you got Nancy’s office cleaned out? I could help if you need it.” He knew he was making small talk, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“No, I’m good. It’s almost done.”

“Can I get you something?” He motioned at his drink and bear claw.

“Um, I’m not hungry. Maybe an espresso. I need the jolt.”

He got up and went to order it. As he waited for the line to clear, he studied Dottie’s display. She’d made croissants this morning, so he pointed at one. “Can I have one of those?”

She dished it up. “What else, sugar?”

“She wants an espresso.”

“I’ll make it and bring it over. You can pay Zion later.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the croissant that Dottie placed on the counter. He carried it back and set it in front of Pam. “You need to eat something. You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

She broke off a piece and put it in her mouth. Looking around, she asked, “Is there any water?”

He went over to a cart with a pitcher of water on it and poured her a glass. Dottie met him in the middle of the floor with the espresso, so he carried both back to Pam, taking his seat again. He sipped at his coffee and watched her eat the flaky pastry. A few minutes later it was finished and she leaned back, sighing. Lifting a napkin, she wiped her mouth.

“I was hungrier than I thought,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

“I’m sorry about Nancy, Pam,” he said.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “Thank you, but I’m just glad she’s not suffering anymore.”

“Do you need help with the funeral costs?”

“No, Nancy made all the arrangements before she died.”

“Did you…” His voice faltered and he cleared it. “Did you tell Sophia?”

The tears did fall then. “I did. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Tell a little girl her mother is dead. She’s hardly spoken since.”

Jaguar took another napkin out of the dispenser on the table and passed it to Pam. She dabbed at her eyes. Picking up the water, she took a sip, then leveled a look on him. “Listen, Jaguar, I’ve changed my mind about custody.”

“What?” He recoiled at her abrupt change in topic. “I thought…”

“I know. I was upset and panicked. I said things I didn’t mean, but I don’t want to give Sophia up. I love that little girl like she was my own.”

“So you don’t want me in her life?” He couldn’t believe how hurt he was.

“No, that’s not it at all. I want you in her life. I need you to be in her life, but I don’t think we should make any radical changes just yet. I think you should spend a little time with her, then gradually increase to weekends, and then we’ll see where we go from there.” She touched his hand. “I’m not trying to keep you away from her, but I just think it would be better for her until she gets to know you. I also don’t think she should be uprooted right now and I know you want to get back to LA.”

He did, but he wanted to know his daughter, he realized.

“She can stay with me and you can see her whenever you’re in town.”

“I’ll give you child support,” he said lamely. He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t want your money, Jaguar. That’s not what this is about.” She sounded almost angry. “Besides, Nancy left me a little.”

“How will you support four kids though, Pam?”

“I have my job cleaning houses. It’s not bad. It allows me to keep the kids with me if one of them gets sick.”

“Cleaning house?” Not only did she have four kids to take care of, but she had a physically demanding job.

“It’s good, solid work, Jaguar.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing.”

“What about your own house? Is it big enough for four kids?”

“We make do right now.”

“I could…”

“No!” she said sharply. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone else. Just be a father to Sophia when you’re around. That’s all I ask.”

He felt slapped in the face. When he was around? She didn’t have much faith in him.

She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it down. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. It’s been such a long couple of days.”

“What would you be if you could?” he asked suddenly.

Her gaze slowly rose to him. “What?”

“What would you do if you could do anything for a living?”

She thought for a moment. “I’d become a hospice nurse.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “When Nancy was dying, I would help out with her care. The nurses said I had a knack for it. I think it would be the most rewarding thing to be able to help people at the end of their lives.”

“You need a degree for that?”

“Yeah, at least an AA in nursing.”

“Why don’t you get it?”

“What? How?” She rolled her eyes. “When?”

“Now. I’ll help you. I can take the kids while you’re in class and I’ll pay for it.”

“I’m not…”

He held up a hand. “It’s the least I can do. Call it a scholarship. We can set it up like that. Whatever you want, but let me help, Pam. Please. I need this as much as you do.”

She studied him, her eyes searching his face. “You’re serious?” she asked.

“Completely and totally serious.”

Her expression brightened and she placed her hands over her cheeks. “Do you know what that would do for the kids and me?”

“Then let’s do it. When can you start classes?”

“September, but what about you going back to LA?”

“Let’s figure out your schedule and I can work mine around your classes. It’s what? An hour by plane? No problem.”

She gave a laugh, her eyes swimming with tears. “Really? You really think we can do this?”

He smiled. “I know we can. I know it.”

She clapped her hands together, then she rose, leaning over the table to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

He nodded and some of the ache eased in his chest. Finally, a decision that felt right for a change.

CHAPTER 11

Jaguar set up the cell phone on the desk in his room, bracing it against a stack of books, then he positioned the guitar on his thigh and drew a deep breath, trying to relax. Finally, he reached over and pressed the button on the display, beginning the video recording. His fingers ran over the strings, then he started playing the song he’d written for Nancy. He was calling it Shadow Eyes for his daughter, their daughter, the child that had linked them for eternity.

His voice sounded husky and worn to his own ears, but he sang on, hoping the emotions he felt would convey across the electronic medium, hoping someone would hear the turmoil inside of him.

When he finished, he pushed the button to end the video and sat, staring at the guitar. He ran his finger across the top of it, feeling a rush of doubt. The song felt natural, but he hadn’t written anything in so long. What if it wasn’t as solid as he thought it was? What if people thought it was too sentimental?

He reached for the phone and pulled up the video, his finger hovering over the trashcan icon. He could feel his heart pounding. He didn’t remember getting this worked up before, but he was usually a little stoned or drunk when he recorded songs. Being sober was hard on his self-confidence.

He forced himself to put the phone face-down on the desk, then he went and put the guitar on the stand. He wasn’t going to listen to anything tonight. He wasn’t going to make any decisions. He’d reassess the situation in the cold light of dawn.

Climbing to his feet, he went to the bedroom door and opened it. He could see the flicker of light from the television, hear the sound of people talking over one another. His father liked to watch the news at night.

He walked into the room and found Henry just sitting in his recliner, staring at the ground. He wasn’t watching TV.

Jaguar wasn’t sure what to do, so he walked into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. Grief was a private experience and sometimes a person just needed to grapple with it alone. He didn’t know what would comfort a man like Henry anyway.

As he carried the water back into the living room, Henry looked up at him. “You know, we could clear out your mother’s craft room and make it into a bedroom for Sophia,” he said, surprising Jaguar.

Jaguar paused and stared at him, unblinking, then he walked over and took a seat on the couch. The television showed two anchors – one male and African American, one female and Latino – sitting behind a counter, talking in that nondescript way of American journalists.

“Pam changed her mind,” he said.

Henry looked over. “She changed her mind?”

“She doesn’t want Sophia to come live with me anymore.”

“How can she do that? She said she wanted you to take her or she was putting her in foster care, now she changes her mind.”

“She said she didn’t mean it. She said she was feeling overwhelmed when she said it.”

“You can fight her in court. Fathers have rights now.”

Jaguar met Henry’s gaze. Fathers have rights now. The irony of that sentence wasn’t lost on him. Fathers having rights implied that they were also raising their kids now. That certainly hadn’t been Henry’s philosophy when he was growing up. He rubbed at his forehead with his left hand and then sipped the water. When was he going to stop being bitter about the father Henry hadn’t been?

“I don’t want to fight her. She’s right. Sophia’s been through enough. She doesn’t need her world torn apart anymore than it is. Besides, Pam said we could work up to Sophia coming here for the weekends over time.”

“Then we could still do up the room. I’ll start going through the stuff in there.” He gave a laugh. “Your mother called it the craft room, but it was really a junk room.”

Jaguar smiled. “I don’t even open the door, it gives me anxiety.”

“I remember saying to her, Ida, what’s with all the Christmas trees? There’s blue ones and pink ones and green ones with ugly yellow splats of crap on them that’s supposed to be snow.”

Jaguar laughed. “And the gnomes? What’s with the gnomes? I saw one that wore a Giants jersey. Did Mom ever watch baseball?”

“Never. She said they were funny. She planned a whole little scene with them in the backyard.”

“Then why are they in the spare room?” asked Jaguar.

“She didn’t want them to get buried in the snow. She was afraid it would damage them. I told her I’d build them a little hut and we could arrange them under it, but she wouldn’t hear of it.” Henry’s eyes drifted away and he sobered.

Jaguar didn’t press him. He let him have his moment, watching the people on the television talk. Finally Henry stirred.

“Anyway, we can clean it out, slap some paint on it, and make it into a room for Sophia.”

Jaguar didn’t want to tell him he didn’t plan on staying that long. He didn’t want to take this away from him. “Maybe Sophia wants to pick out her own colors?”

“Maybe.”

“I think it’s a good plan, Pops,” he said and settled back into the couch to watch television with his father since apparently neither one of them was able to sleep.

*    *    *

“This is the Y,” said Hakim, turning in his seat and laying an arm across the backrest.

Jaguar stared at the nondescript grey building with YMCA on the front in block letters. Pam had told him he could start coming to watch Sophia’s swim lessons, that it was a way for him to get to know her in a nonthreatening environment.

“Look, I need to say something,” said Hakim.

Jaguar’s attention moved back to the other man’s face. “Sure?”

“You’re spending a damn fortune on this cab. It’s just not practical. Why don’t you take that money and get a car?”

Jaguar considered what the cabdriver said. He was spending a fortune on this, but he’d thought he was spending it on the service that Hakim gave him. He wasn’t interested in driving. He hated driving. And he liked having Hakim with him. He’d been a grounding source for him these last few days.

“I hate to drive,” he said, “but getting my own car isn’t a bad idea. Maybe a Mercedes?”

“Or a BMW.”

“I’m not a BMW sort of guy.” He braced his forearms on his thighs. “Actually, what would you think about quitting the taxi gig and coming to work for me full time?”

Hakim’s eyes widened. “You mean just drive you around?”

“And do other things. Be my assistant.”

“Are you shitting me?”

Jaguar laughed. He appreciated Hakim’s honesty. “Not even a little.”

“Work for you full time?” Hakim said, turning to look out the front windshield.

“You’d have to come to LA with me when I go, but we’d be back here a lot. I’m thinking of splitting my time between both places.”

“That’s not a problem.” Hakim fingered his beard. “I could drive a Mercedes,” he mused.

Jaguar smiled. “Aren’t you going to ask about the salary? Benefits?”

Hakim looked back at him, his dark eyes glittering. “I drive a taxi, man, in the age of Uber. Anything around minimum is an improvement.”

“It’ll be significantly more than minimum,” Jaguar said, laughing. “And my accountant can set up retirement and health benefits…”

“Yes!” said Hakim.

They both laughed.

“Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll quit today.”

“Sounds good.”

“And we can go buy the Mercedes tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” said Jaguar.

Hakim’s face sobered. “This means a lot to me and my family.”

“It means a lot to me too. I need someone I trust at my back and you’ve shown I can trust you.”

Hakim looked down, a blush painting his cheeks. “I’ll do right by you, Mr. Jarvis,” he said.

“Never call me that again and you’ll do right by me,” said Jaguar, looking horrified.

Hakim laughed. “Got it. But the other Mr. Jarvis is okay with it, right?”

“Right.” Jaguar pushed open the car door. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

“No worries,” said Hakim, happily. “I’ve got a job to quit and then I’m gonna look up car dealerships because they’re gonna want this yellow piece of crap returned.”

“Now that’s a shame,” mocked Jaguar, climbing out of the yellow piece of crap. “I was growing so fond of it.”

“You could almost identify the rank odor, right? Well, don’t let it fool you,” said Hakim. “I still can’t identify it and it’s been almost two years.”

Jaguar laughed and shut the door, then he faced the Y. Why had his stomach suddenly done a somersault? His daughter was five years old. She wasn’t going to judge him for not being part of her life before now. She didn’t even know who the hell he was.

And there’s why his stomach took a tumble, he thought, drawing a deep breath and heading for the interior. He was stopped at the front counter by a teenaged boy who had to be more than six feet tall with blond hair and blue eyes, the typical Californian according to Hollywood. The kid’s eyes grew enormous when he recognized Jaguar.

“No f-ing way!” he said, then he covered his mouth and looked around as if he were afraid someone had heard him. “You’re Jaguar.”

“Hey,” Jaguar said. “I’m here to see my…” He caught himself. This was still so new to him, so strange. “Um, I’m here to see my daughter in swim lessons.”

The kid pushed a ledger over to him. “You’ve got to sign in and I’ve got to take a copy of your driver’s license.”

Jaguar took out his wallet and removed his license, passing it to the kid. The kid picked it up and stared at it.

“No f-ing way,” he murmured again, stepping back and placing the license on the copier.

Jaguar grabbed the pen and signed in as the kid returned the license to him.

“I play guitar,” he said.

Jaguar looked up. “Yeah? That’s awesome.”

“I used to have a band, but Antwon got a girlfriend.”

“That’ll do it to you.” He put the license back in his wallet. “Can you direct me to the pool?”

The kid pointed to a hallway on Jaguar’s left. “It’s at the end there. Through that door.”

“Thanks.” Jaguar started to turn.

“You got another album coming out?”

Jaguar hesitated and looked back at him. “Um, I hope so. Soon. Maybe.”

The kid nodded. “A guy said he wanted to be our agent. When I had the band.”

“Right?”

“But then he didn’t call back.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a tough business.”

“Word,” said the kid, giving him a chin nod. “Word.”

Jaguar nodded back and continued to walk down the hallway. He could smell the chlorine already and it brought back memories of when his mother had taken him to the high school to learn how to swim. He’d caught on pretty quickly because his instructor, a teenager much like the kid he’d just left, had told him that he could go off the high dive if he learned to swim a whole lap. He’d really wanted to go off the high dive. That seemed like the ultimate test of bravery.

Pushing open the door, he felt himself jerked back to the present by a sharp whistle and the sound of voices echoing in the vast room. The floor was wet and the pool stretched out before him, pockets of children with their teachers scattered around the periphery. He searched for Sophia, but he didn’t immediately recognize her. He realized he’d only seen her once, so that might be a problem.

A row of benches was lined up against one wall and some mothers sat there, watching the pool or reading a book or messing on their phones. He walked over, but hesitated in sitting down because the bench looked a little wet. A woman in her late thirties reached into a bag by her feet and pulled out a beach towel, which she spread out on a spot near her.

“Here. You can sit here,” she said, patting the spot.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a seat on the towel. “I appreciate it.” He went back to searching the pool for Sophia.

“First time?”

“Yeah. I’m still trying to find her.”

“Your daughter?”

“Right.” He wondered when that wouldn’t sound weird. “My daughter.”

“Which one is she?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How old is she?”

“Five.”

The woman pointed to the shallow end. “The little ones are down there.”

Jaguar squinted in the hazy room and saw a group of very small children, standing with a teenage girl in a hot pink bathing suit. He wasn’t sure he could tell the difference between Sophia and her cousin at this distance, until he saw the small girl standing behind the others, her hands clasped under her chin.

“She looks cold,” he muttered, more to himself than the woman next to him.

“Probably nervous.” She held out her hand. “I’m Stephanie.”

Jaguar took it. “I’m Jag…” He stopped. He was sitting at the Y, watching his five-year-old daughter take swim lessons. It was the most adult thing he’d ever done. “I’m Jerome,” he said.

She smiled at him, her eyes taking in his piercings and his tattoos. Maybe he should wear long sleeves in here, except it was humid and he’d burn up. She pointed to the deep end where two boys were leaping off the side, trying to do a cannonball.

“Those are mine.”

“Both?”

“Both.” She sighed, heavily. “We spend two hours a day here taking back to back lessons, but it just takes the edge off.”

Jaguar laughed, relaxing on the bench.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

“No, that’s right, but I’m trying to be more involved.” He gave her a shrug.

“Good for you,” she said. “Good for you.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a baggie filled with goldfish shaped crackers. “Have a snack.”

He took it because he didn’t know what else to do. “Thank you,” he said, a little bewildered, then he turned back to watching the tiny figure in the pool.

Throughout the next half-hour, he munched goldfish and kept an anxious eye on Sophia. The young teacher had finally gotten her to try a few strokes, but she was back to huddling against the wall, her hands clasped below her chin.

Someone stopped in front of him, blocking his view of her.

“You came?” said a voice.

He glanced up into Pam’s face. She looked a bit better today. Her eyes and nose weren’t so red and she’d combed her hair.

He immediately felt defensive, glancing at Stephanie beside him. “You said I could.”

“Relax, Jaguar. I was just making an observation.” She went to his other side and nudged him. “Move over.”

He made room for her on the towel Stephanie had provided and held out the baggie of goldfish. “Want some?”

She shook her head and settled a large bag between her feet. Pulling out a plush beach towel, she handed it to him. “They’ll be done anytime now.”

Sure enough, the teenager lifted each of the little ones out of the pool. As soon as they were free, they ran to their parents arranged around the periphery of the room. A lifeguard shouted for them to stop running.

Amanda appeared in front of her mother and Pam wrapped her in a towel. “How did it go?” she said, kissing her daughter’s wet temple.

“Did you see me? I almost made it across the pool,” Amanda said, bouncing up and down.

She hadn’t come close to making it across the pool, but Jaguar wasn’t going to contradict her. His eyes went past her to the tiny figure walking over to them, her eyes lowered, her hands clasped tightly under her chin. She shivered and Jaguar instinctively shook out the towel. He hated seeing Sophia acting so shy.

She stopped in front of him and lifted her big blue eyes, her hair tangled in the goggles she’d shoved up on her head. Jaguar wrapped the towel around her, rubbing her arms, hoping to get her warm again.

“Hey, Sophia,” said Pam, kissing the little one’s cheek. “How was swim lessons?”

Sophia leaned into Jaguar’s leg as he wrapped the towel tighter around her. He wondered if she even realized what she was doing. “‘Kay,” she said in a tiny voice.

Jaguar exchanged a worried look with Pam. Pam reached into her bag and pulled out a baggie filled with apple slices. She handed it to Sophia, then got a second one for Amanda. Amanda tore into hers immediately, but Sophia just held it in her towel covered hand.

Jaguar reached for it and pulled it open. “You must be hungry with all that swimming,” he said, forcing his voice to be bright.

She looked up at him, but she didn’t take an apple.

Pam pulled her closer, rubbing the towel over her arms. “You remember Jaguar, right, Sophia? Your daddy?”

Sophia nodded.

Jaguar didn’t know what to do. This little girl was either extremely shy or afraid. He reached in and snatched an apple slice, popping it in his mouth.

“Hey, that’s Sophia’s!” scolded Amanda.

In response, he snagged one from Amanda’s bag, giving her googily eyes as he popped it in his mouth too. Amanda giggled and a tiny giggle burst from Sophia. She ducked her head and covered her mouth with her towel-covered hands, but a moment later, she reached for an apple slice for herself and placed it in her mouth, her eyes lifting to him curiously.

He smiled. “What if we go for hamburgers?”

“We have to wait for the boys,” said Amanda. “The boys aren’t through yet.”

Pam rose to her feet, picking up the bag. “That’s okay. They’ll be done soon and we can go for hamburgers.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and took her daughter’s hand, then took Sophia’s as well. “We’ll just go change.” She pointed to the deep end where Stephanie had said her boys were. “Keep an eye out for them.” She led the little girls away.

Jaguar clasped his hands between his knees and gave Stephanie a half-smile. She smiled back.

“Don’t give up,” she said. “Half the battle is just being here. That’s all. Just show up and you’ll see.”

Jaguar wasn’t sure about that, but who was he to say? He’d never been a father before and he’d sort of blown past the usual introductory lessons of sleepless nights and major milestones like talking and walking. He knew he had a steep learning curve ahead of him, but if showing up was all that he had to do, well, he could do that.

CHAPTER 12

For the next two weeks, Jaguar went to every swim lesson. A few times Pam even let him and Hakim bring home all four kids when she had an appointment. Sophia still wouldn’t talk to him, no more than a few monosyllables, but she came right to him, expecting him to wrap her in her towel. He’d even learned to show up with snacks. Stephanie told him he was doing a good job.

Today, he’d had Hakim drive him to the toy store. Amanda and Sophia were graduating from the beginning swim class and swim lessons were ending for the summer. He wanted to get them something to commemorate the occasion, but he wasn’t sure what.

The previous week, he’d bought a Mercedes SUV like he’d promised Hakim and he couldn’t deny he loved the car. It was big enough to haul all four kids around. He’d never thought of himself as an SUV sort of guy, but it had been the most practical choice. Pam’s boys, Jasper and Evan, had exclaimed in delight when he took them for pizza the other day. He still struggled with the booster seat, but Amanda never failed to instruct him on its proper placement.

Standing in the middle of the toy store, he felt overwhelmed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in one. He was in sensory overload with the sights and sounds all around him. If a toy didn’t have a flashing light or a siren of some kind, he felt sure it didn’t occupy shelf space here.

Hakim gave him an anxious look. “Do you have any idea what you want to get?”

“It should probably not flash or shriek, or Pam may ban me forever. What about something soft?”

“The boys aren’t going to want something soft,” said Hakim, shaking his head. “They’re going to want noise and flash.”

Jaguar blew out air. This was so not in his wheelhouse. “Guns are probably out, right?”

“Right.” Hakim looked around. “What about a basketball hoop? I liked basketball when I was their age, or football.”

“I hated sports when I was there age. Plus, Pam has them doing tennis.”

“Badminton net?”

Jaguar’s gaze had landed on something across the store. “Nope,” he said, pointing. “That.”

Hakim frowned. “That? We can’t fit that into the Benz.”

Jaguar wandered over to the wooden structure set up in the middle of the store. It had swings and a slide and a tree-house structure built on top of it. It was perfect. It was the sort of thing he would have loved as a child.

Hakim walked around it, giving it a critical look. “I’m telling you, this ain’t fitting in the Benz.”

“We’ll have it delivered.”

“Who’s gonna put it together?”

Jaguar considered that. “Me.”

“You know how to build shit?”

“No, but I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? I hope I’m not the guy, ‘cause I don’t know how to build shit.”

Jaguar laughed, delighted at the thought of giving Pam’s kids an outdoor wonderland. Every kid should have a fort. His fondest memories were playing guitar in his own secret hiding place in his parents’ backyard.

“You sure about this?” asked Hakim. “What if Pam doesn’t want something like this in her backyard?”

“Then I’ll bribe her with some wine. Besides, it’ll give the kids a place to play and give her some downtime but still be able to keep an eye on them. She’ll love it.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Hakim.

He knew he was. He could just see the four kids climbing all over this thing with Amanda and Sophia hosting tea parties in the little fort. Yep, he was getting this and he was building it himself.

*    *    *

Pam was waiting for them when he arrived at her house. Jasper and Evan scrambled out of the SUV and Amanda danced over to her mother, throwing her arms around her. Jaguar unbuckled Sophia and lifted her down, then removed both booster seats. Hakim met him on the sidewalk and took the booster seats from him.

“Hello, Hakim,” said Pam.

“Hello, Ms. Rosen. You want me to put these in the car?”

“Sure. It’s unlocked.”

Shouldering the swim bag, Jaguar shut the car door. As he and Sophia moved toward the house, he was surprised when the little girl slipped her hand into his. His eyes shot to Pam’s face and she smiled at him. He couldn’t believe how his heart swelled at the simple gesture.

Pam stroked Sophia’s wet hair. “How were lessons?”

Amanda jumped up and down in front of Jaguar. “Show her our certificates,” she said. “Show her.”

Jaguar wished Sophia was as animated as her cousin, but he didn’t want to push her. The little girl had lost her mother not that long ago. He crouched down and set the bag on the ground in front of him, then he opened the side panel and pulled out the certificates. Amanda snatched them from his hand, holding them out to her mother.

“See, Mama.”

Pam took them and inspected both. “That’s excellent. Why don’t you and Sophia go put them on the refrigerator?”

“Come on, Sophia,” called Amanda, racing toward the house.

Sophia let go of his hand, then she started walking up the walkway after her cousin. Jaguar watched her feeling troubled. Did five year olds go to see a counselor when they suffered a major loss?

“She’s so different from Amanda,” he said.

“She misses her mother, Jaguar,” said Pam.

“Does she talk about her? She never talks to me. I get one syllable, if I’m lucky.”

“She talks about her a lot at night when I tuck her in.” She glanced back at the house, but the door had shut behind the little girl. “It’s gonna take time. Be patient.”

As Hakim passed them, going back to the SUV, he gave Jaguar a significant look. Jaguar knew he was worried about how Pam was going to react to the jungle gym. He nodded at the driver, then rubbed his forearm with his other hand.

“So, I was wondering if you would like to come over to my dad’s house for dinner next weekend. Bring the kids. He’d like to meet Sophia, but I don’t want to make it strange for her.”

She considered that. “How about you come here? It’ll be easier with all the kids. Then maybe we can meet at the park in the gated community for a picnic the next weekend. I’m sure your dad’s house isn’t kid proof.”

“Well, actually, that brings up another point,” he said, shifting weight. “I bought a jungle gym.”

Pam blinked at him. “You what?”

“I bought a jungle gym for your backyard.”

“You bought a jungle gym? For my backyard?”

“Yeah. Hakim thought you might not like it, so it’s totally my fault, but…”

“Jaguar, I told you I don’t need your money.”

“This is for the kids. For completing swim lessons. Look, it’ll let you have some downtime too. They can play in the yard, where you can see them, but they don’t have to be running all over the house.”

“Jaguar…”

“Please, Pam. Please let me do this for them. I had a fort when I was a kid and it meant the world to me, to have some place to go when I needed to get away.”

She considered. “It would be nice to have some place outside for them to go.”

“It’s supposed to arrive in a few days. I’ll come over and build it.”

“You’ll build it? You?”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Okay. I’m gonna pull in a ringer, but I’ll help.”

“I don’t want it falling down on them.”

“Right. It won’t. I promise. I’ll get someone to help me. I can do it when Pops and I come for dinner. In fact, I’ll bring dinner.”

“You’re gonna make dinner and build a jungle gym?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “I’m going to buy dinner and I’m going to bring someone to supervise the jungle gym, but…”

She laughed.

He ducked his head, smiling. “I’m trying, Pam. I really am. You’re looking at a guy with absolutely no practical skills.”

She touched his arm. “You’re right. You’re trying and that means a lot. We’ll see you next weekend.”

He released his held breath as she turned and walked back toward the house. He started to shift toward the SUV, but a motion caught his eye. Sophia was standing in the window, watching him. He lifted a hand and waved at her.

A moment later, she waved back.

Such a simple gesture, such a minor advancement, but Jaguar felt like he’d just been given the moon. He chuckled and waved more enthusiastically, then he jogged to the SUV and slid into the backseat.

“She said yes!” he said, punctuating it with a jab of his index finger. “She said yes!”

Hakim’s dark eyes met his in the rearview mirror. “It’s a jungle gym, man, not a marriage proposal and do you even know which end of the hammer to use?”

“The one with the hitty part,” he said and they both laughed as Hakim pulled away from the curb.

*    *    *

Arriving back at the house, he found the driveway filled with a metal dumpster. He stared at it through the windshield, blinking in surprise. His father hadn’t said anything about getting a dumpster.

“You better figure out which end is up on that hammer and quick. Papa Jarvis is reconstructing,” said Hakim wryly.

“See you tomorrow,” said Jaguar, distracted.

He climbed out of the SUV and watched Hakim pull away. A moment later, his father appeared out of the house, carrying an armload of stuff that he huffed into the dumpster with a clang. He wiped his hands together and looked at his son.

“What’s going on?” asked Jaguar.

“I told you I wanted to clean out the craft room, so we can make a bedroom for Sophia.”

“Yeah, but was a dumpster really necessary?”

He fixed his hands on his hips. “You might as well know,” said Henry seriously. “Your mother was something of a closet hoarder.”

“A closet hoarder?”

“Have you opened the door to the craft room since you’ve been home?”

“No.”

“Go look.”

Jaguar frowned in concern and headed up the walkway into the house. He turned left into the hallway and walked past his room to the room at the end. Pushing open the door, he banged it into something. He peered around the door and his eyes widened. Boxes had been stacked up behind it, filled with holiday decorations. He eased into the room, staying on the path his father had cleared through all the mess. He’d known about the Christmas trees and the garden gnomes. He’d seen them when he moved his parents into this house, but in the years since then, she’d added to the collection.

She had lights and ornaments and wreaths and garland and plastic bunnies. There were skeletons and baskets and colored plastic eggs. Boxes of colored plastic eggs. He opened a storage container and lifted out an egg carton, opening it. Chalk eggs had been arranged in the egg holders, never used, never taken out of the display. As he opened a few more boxes, he marked that most of them had never been opened – they lay in their original packaging, untouched.

In another corner of the room were cardboard boxes, neatly labeled in his mother’s hand, some filled with newspapers, others with phone books, and still more with old magazines. He turned a complete circle. Along another wall were shelves holding the gnomes, many in their original boxes, interspersed with Christmas trees.

He sat down on a stack of boxes and stared, his hands hanging by his sides. How had he missed this? How had he not known something was wrong with her?

Henry came into the room, watching him for a moment.

Jaguar looked up at his father.

“This is madness,” he said.

Henry nodded. “I know.” He looked around. “I hated it when she’d come in with this stuff. She’d get her friends to take her to the store and she’d try to sneak it in. Or she did at first. Then she didn’t try to sneak it anymore.”

“Her friends didn’t realize that this was wrong?” He held out his hands. “It’s a fire hazard, Pops.”

“They weren’t entirely responsible. I took her to buy a lot of it. It made her happy and I would have done…” His voice choked off and he cleared it. “I would have done anything to make her happy. She’d spend hours in here before things got so bad, just going around counting her stuff. It seemed to calm the anxiety and I wasn’t going to take that away from her.”

Jaguar motioned to the boxes of holiday decorations. “Some of that stuff might be usable. We might be able to give it to the Good Will or something.”

“I already called them.”

Jaguar looked at the gnomes. His mother had collected an entire village of gnomes over the years and they were all ugly. “Were they interested in gnomes?”

Henry sighed. “They said they were gnomed out, son.”

A startled laugh choked out of Jaguar. He’d so seldom heard his father make a joke of any kind. “What are we going to do with them all? Who’s going to take them?”

“No one. The gnomes are mine.”

Jaguar’s brows rose as Henry walked over to the collection and picked up two of them. “Grab a couple and come on.”

Jaguar did as his father commanded and picked two of the ugliest from the shelves, then he followed Henry to the front of the house. Henry positioned himself at the edge of the porch, leaning against the wooden railing where he could just see a corner of the dumpster in the driveway. He hefted a gnome in his hand.

“The trick is to get it as far into the dumpster as you can. If it doesn’t shatter, you lose.”

Jaguar’s eyes grew wide. “I’ll bet the neighbors aren’t happy about the dumpster, Pops. They definitely aren’t going to want to hear a gnome smashing.”

Henry continued to heft the gnome, eyeing the trajectory between him and his target. “I got a little carte blanche left. Recent widower and all. Come on, I didn’t take you for a chicken.” Then he launched a gnome. It went sailing into the dumpster, shattering on impact.

Both Jaguar and Henry whooped, then Henry sent his second after the first. Jaguar followed him, the sound of shattering plaster echoing through the neighborhood. They both laughed and went to get more.

After they’d decimated a good portion of the gnome village, Jaguar looked out over the yard. “You sure about getting rid of all this stuff?”

Henry leaned against the porch railing. “It’s just stuff, son,” he said. “Sophia needs a room.”

Jaguar studied his father. For the first time, he realized how hard it must have been on him to watch his mother deteriorate the way she had. Henry had taken care of her by himself for years, years when Jaguar was roaming all over the country. He leaned on the railing beside his father, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how bad it was.”

Henry looked at him, studying him a moment without speaking. “It wasn’t your problem.”

“Yeah it was, but I was too selfish to see it. I could have helped you more.”

Henry shrugged. “I didn’t mind.” He shook his head in memory, his eyes going distant. “My God, she was a great woman in her day. You should have heard her play the violin. Like you died and went to heaven.”

Jaguar smiled at him.

Henry’s face sobered. “That shouldn’t have happened to a woman like her,” he said.

Jaguar looked down. He didn’t know how to answer that. They stood in the gathering darkness, side by side, thinking about the woman who had brought them together. Finally Jaguar stirred.

“Pam wants us to come to dinner next weekend.”

Henry glanced over at him. “Really? I’ll get to meet Sophia?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Jaguar rubbed his thumb over his bicep. “You know anything about building jungle gyms?”

“Jungle gyms?”

Jaguar gave him a wry look. “Hakim says I should probably learn which side of the hammer is the hitty part.”

Henry’s expression grew more skeptical. “The hitty part?” He shook his head. “Damn devil’s music,” he said without any heat. “I knew it was gonna rot your brain.”

Then they both laughed.

*    *    *

Jaguar’s phone rang. His father looked over from his recliner, watching him as he fished it out of his pocket. Henry reached for the remote, pausing the movie they’d been watching, an old black and white western that Henry assured him was amazing.

Looking at the display, Jaguar realized this conversation might be a bit longer than he’d initially thought. He thumbed it on and held it to his ear. He should probably go into another room for privacy, but he just didn’t feel like moving right now.

“Hey, Desmond,” he said.

“If it isn’t the prodigal son,” said the manager, laughing. Jaguar didn’t think it was funny. Hifler clearly didn’t remember that his mother had just died a few weeks before.

“What’s up? You calling about the Greatest Hits album?”

“No, I’m calling because I thought you were coming back here. What gives? We need to make some decisions about the band, and I thought you told me you had some new material. I haven’t seen any of that yet.”

Jaguar felt Henry’s eyes on him. “I know, but things are more complicated than I thought. I can’t come back just yet.”

“We need to decide the future of Anaconda, Jaguar. This greatest hits thing will sustain us for a bit, but some of the guys are talking about going solo.”

Jaguar closed his eyes. That news was like a gut punch, even though he wasn’t sure why. He’d been thinking it himself even before the situation with his mother became a problem. Still, Anaconda had been such a part of his life for so long. If it was taken away, what the hell would he do? He wasn’t sure he could make a go of a solo career.

“Okay, look, I need to wrap up a few things, so give me a week.”

“You promised me new material.”

Jaguar tightened his grip on the phone. The only new material he had was the song he’d written for Nancy, but he still wasn’t sure about it. It felt more raw than a lot of other things he’d done in the past.

“I have one thing.”

“Great. Send it.”

“It’s not polished, Desmond.”

“I don’t care. Send it. Let me decide.”

Jaguar drew a deep breath, then released it. “Okay. I’ll send it.”

“Send it now before you talk yourself out of it. You artist types are all alike, filled with self-doubt.”

“Fine, but like I said, I’m just not sure about it yet.”

“Again, I’ll decide. It’s why you pay me.”

Jaguar wasn’t sure about that. He often wondered what they paid Desmond Hifler for, but that wasn’t being fair. The lack of material was his own fault, not Hifler’s. He was the creative force for the band. He was the one who wrote the songs.

“It’s on its way.”

“Great. Get back to you soon.”

“Bye.”

Jaguar sat, holding the phone, staring at the display. He had a picture of the band on the display, one they’d taken at a concert in Japan, when they were an up-and-coming force in the music world. He remembered being half-baked when the picture was taken, feeling little pain, enjoying the moment. That person seemed far removed from the man he was now, sitting stone-cold sober in his father’s living room, watching a western, wondering what his daughter was doing. In fact, as he stared at the photo, he wondered if Sophia would let him take a picture of her to put in its place. He would like to see Sophia’s sweet face when he thumbed on his phone.

“What’s bothering you?” asked Henry.

Jaguar glanced over at him, surprised. He didn’t remember Henry ever asking him something personal like that before. “Um, nothing.”

“He wanted you to send the song you wrote?”

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to?”

Jaguar shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I want to do.” He held out the phone to his father, showing him the picture on the display. “See this.”

Henry took it, looking at the promotional shot.

“We took that in Japan, when we were on tour.”

“I remember your mother mentioning that.”

“I’m half-stoned in that picture.”

Henry glanced up at him.

Jaguar scratched his forearm. “This is the longest I’ve been sober in ten years. I mean, I never did as much drugs or alcohol as some of the guys, but most of the time I had a pretty good buzz going on.”

Henry nodded, not speaking, and that too was a first. No judgment, no comments about devil’s music, no snide remarks about Jaguar’s dilettante ways.

“I was just sitting here thinking I’d like to replace that picture with one of Sophia, and it just seemed strange, you know, that I’d think of her instead of the band.”

“You’re growing up,” said Henry, passing the phone back.

Jaguar realized he would have gotten pissed if Henry had said something like that to him a month ago, but now, he just accepted it. “Maybe.”

Henry reached for the remote and started the movie again. “Send him the song. It’s a good song. It deserves to be heard.”

Jaguar went still. His fingers tightened on the phone and he fought the rush of emotions that swamped him. Damn it all, he’d never given a rat’s ass what Henry thought his entire life, but suddenly, one compliment and he wanted to hug the old man. What the hell!

Being sober brought all these stupid emotions to the foreground. At least when he was half-lit, he didn’t have to realize that he wanted his father’s approval, he wanted him to give a damn about what he did.

Drawing a deep breath, he released it. On the television screen, men in white hats were shooting at men in black hats. Western logic – it was always easy to know the good guys from the bad. He appreciated that efficiency. It took a whole lot less effort if things were simply black or white, no shades of grey.

He thumbed on the phone and pulled up the video he’d made, then he sent it to Hifler before he could talk himself out of it. He put the phone face down on the coffee table, so he couldn’t see the screen, and settled back into the couch.

“So, how did the bad guys know the payroll was coming in on the stage coach again?” he asked his father.

Henry never turned away from the television. “If you were paying attention, you’d have noticed the deputy riding out of town headed east. He was warning them.”

“He’s a double agent?”

“Yep, but don’t worry. They string him up for it before it’s over.”

Jaguar made a noise of disgust. “Way to ruin it for me, Pops.”

Henry looked over at him and smiled.

CHAPTER 13

Jaguar and Henry walked into the Hammer Tyme on Monday morning. Late summer sun filtered through the windows, bathing the tools in a rosy-light. As the buzzer sounded on the door, Tate Mercer walked out of the storeroom, smiling when he saw them.

“Hiya, Jaguar,” he said, holding out his hand.

Jaguar took it. “Tate, how are you?”

“Good. Good.”

Jaguar motioned to his father. “This is my dad, Henry.”

The two men shook hands. “Nice to meet you, sir,” said Tate.

“I saw you at my wife’s funeral. I thought you were with the sheriff’s department.”

“Only as needed,” said Tate.

Jaguar looked around. “Where’s Logan?”

He didn’t seem to be in the store. Neither was Bill Stanley, who so heartily disapproved of Jaguar.

“He’s down at the high school, re-enrolling for his senior year. He went to a continuation school last year because his mom’s sick, but they both decided it would be best for him to complete his senior year at a traditional school. School starts in two more weeks.”

“I’m sorry to hear about his mother,” said Henry.

Tate nodded.

Jaguar was distracted, thinking about Sophia. She was five. Would she be starting school this year? He needed to ask Pam about that.

“Can you believe it’s nearly September?” said Henry.

“No, sir, I can’t. I don’t know where the time’s gone,” answered Tate.

Jaguar frowned. He’d been here in Sequoia since July. He’d only planned to come for the concert at Redwood Stock after the 4th, but then he’d realized how bad his mother was, so he’d stayed after everyone else went back to Los Angeles. It was nearly September and he had no firm plans to return home.

“So, how can I help you?” asked Tate.

Jaguar blinked at him, then looked over at his father. “Sorry, um, we want paint. We’re making a room for Sophia in the house.”

“Okay. What color?”

Jaguar and Henry exchanged a look. They hadn’t talked about that. He didn’t even know what colors Sophia liked. He could opt for the traditional pink, creating a princess get-away for her, but he hated to lock her into anything stereotypical.

“Blue,” said Henry decisively. “I want a powder blue.” He nudged Jaguar with his arm. “I saw these decals in a magazine. They were butterflies, blue butterflies like the one in the picture with your mother. I want to do Sophia’s room in butterflies. That way she might feel close to her grandmother.”

Jaguar didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t realized that his father had given this so much thought.

“What do you think?” asked Henry, his face alight in expectation.

“Yeah, I think it’s great. Let’s do it.”

Tate smiled. “I’ve got the perfect color, and you know what? I’ll bet Trixie down the street might have some accessories that would go with your theme.”

They followed him over to the paint section where he selected a blue very close to the color of Sophia’s eyes. Henry nodded.

“That’s the one.”

“Great.” Tate grabbed two gallons and carried them back to the counter with the paint swatch, Henry and Jaguar trailing after him.

As Tate began mixing the color for them, Jaguar leaned against the counter. “So, what are you doing Saturday?” he asked Tate.

Tate looked up. “Saturday? I think I’m free.”

“How would you like to help me build a jungle gym in Pam’s backyard?”

“A jungle gym?” asked Tate.

Jaguar nodded. “With swings and everything. I’ll buy the beer.”

Tate laughed. “Sounds like a plan. What time?”

“Ten?”

“You’ll shoot me the address?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be there.”

Jaguar crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ll bring the tools, right?”

Tate laughed. “I’ll bring the tools.”

Jaguar’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. A message from Desmond Hifler showed on the screen.

Call me ASAP. It’s important.

Jaguar felt a tightening in his gut. Hifler must hate the song. Or the band was breaking up and going their separate ways. He was sure it had to be bad news.

Henry gave him a questioning look. He showed his father the message and Henry’s brows rose.

“This can’t be good news.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Henry.

“He never asks me to call. He either calls me or he sends me a text. He never asks me to call him.”

Henry shrugged. “You’ll never know until you call,” he said logically.

Jaguar knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to know he was about to lose the only thing that had given his life meaning the last few years – he was about to lose his music.

*    *    *

Jaguar spent the rest of the day working in the room for Sophia with his father. They patched up any holes that had been hammered into the walls for pictures and washed the window and window sill. Jaguar had even vacuumed. He didn’t remember the last time he’d vacuumed anything. Then he and Henry had painted the room.

By late afternoon, Jaguar realized they’d been working for hours without speaking, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. And the physical labor kept his mind off Hifler’s message. When they were done, they cleaned everything up and stood in the middle of the room, surveying their work.

“Not bad,” said Henry, his hands on his hips. “Not bad at all.”

Jaguar had to agree. The light blue had brightened the room and once they got curtains and a bed and linens, it would be homey. He’d go into town tomorrow and see Trixie for accessories, then he’d ask Zion for help buying bedding and furniture for Sophia.

He went to shower, while Henry made them dinner. Sitting down at the table, Jaguar was surprised when Henry set a shot of tequila in front of him. He fingered the shot glass, but he didn’t take a sip. He marked that Henry had his own shot next to the stove where he was cooking.

“What’s this for?”

Henry tossed his shot back, shivering as it coursed down his throat. “We put in a full day of work. We get to celebrate. I ordered the butterfly decals. They’ll be here by the end of the week.”

Jaguar lifted his shot and swallowed it. “I just wish I knew when was the right time to have Sophia stay here.”

“Ask Sophia. It’s her decision.”

“Good call.” Jaguar twirled the glass around between his fingers.

“You call that manager back yet?”

Jaguar shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t think I want to hear what he has to say.”

“What do you think it is?”

“He hated the song. The band’s breaking up. I don’t know.”

Henry poured himself a half shot, leaning against the counter. “Seems to me it would be better to know what it is than speculate. Whatever it might be, you can take it. If you can face thousands of people in an audience, you can make a phone call.”

It wasn’t bad as pep talks went, Jaguar thought, especially as he knew for a fact that Henry didn’t have much experience with them. He pulled out his phone and brought up Hifler’s contact information.

Steeling himself, he pressed the icon and held the phone to his ear.

“I’ve been waiting all day for you to call. What have you been doing? Communing with nature?” came Hifler’s voice over the line.

“Something like that,” said Jaguar, steeling himself. He wasn’t usually this insecure. He’d written hundreds of songs in the past, but he hadn’t written for so long. He hadn’t wanted to write, he hadn’t felt the need to do it like he had when he was younger. He knew he was rusty. He knew the first writing after such a drought might seem anemic.

And this one was personal. That’s what scared him the most. Not that his other songs hadn’t been personal, but he’d poured a lot of his anger and regret and confusion into this one. If Hifler rejected him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

“This song,” began Hifler. “This song is going to catapult us back to the top of the charts, Jaguar.”

Jaguar felt a rush of relief so intense it made him dizzy. He knew Hifler was still talking but he couldn’t make out the words.

“…on the scale of an Adele hit. This will be the song of the year. I predict it. You just wait until the next Grammy’s, man, and there we’ll be, accepting our award.”

Jaguar shook his head to clear it. Henry carried the bottle of tequila over and poured him another shot. He tossed it back, curling his hand around the glass. “Slow down, Desmond,” he said. “Go back. You think the song’s that good.”

“I think it’s a gold mine. We needed something to get us back in front of the world. Well, this is it. We’re here, baby.”

Jaguar gave his father a shocked look. “He likes it.”

“I gathered,” said Henry, smiling.

“He thinks it’ll go platinum.”

“Wow.”

“…and we’ll pick you up at the airport tomorrow.”

“Wait. What?”

“I got the band all assembled. I bought you a plane ticket. You leave from Fresno, God help you, at 9:00AM. Maddog will meet you at the airport and bring you to the studio. We’ll record the song and then I’ll host an impromptu gathering for radio exec and the media at my place.”

“Hold on. This is moving fast, Desmond.”

“We need to strike now. Anaconda is fading out of people’s memories. We need to bring it roaring back and you’ve just given me the ticket to do that.”

Jaguar stared out the window at the backyard, watching the redwood trees sway in the breeze. If he left tomorrow, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be in LA and he was just making progress with Sophia. He had to finish her room with his father and then build the jungle gym on Saturday. It was a bad time to be going home.

He met his father’s expectant look. “I have to come back here on Friday night.”

“What? Friday night we’ll hit the clubs, make personal appearances, remind people who you are.”

“I can’t. The rest of the band can, though, but I’ve got something here.”

“What?”

What? He knew if he told Hifler he was building a jungle gym, the manager would laugh himself into a stroke.

“I have a personal appearance scheduled up here.”

“A personal appearance? Seriously, Jaguar? Which do you think is going to get you more mileage? A personal appearance in Treeville or Los Angeles. Just think about it.”

“I have and you’re right, but I made a promise and I’m sticking to my promises. I need to do this, Desmond.”

“Fine. The rest of the band will hit the scene, but you gotta get back here permanently, man. I’m telling you this song is gonna launch a comeback tour.”

Jaguar wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wanted a successful music career. Or he thought he did. Music was all he’d ever had in his life, but going on tour meant months away from home. Months away from his father and Sophia. He wasn’t sure he wanted that anymore.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but just rent me a car. Don’t send Maddog. I’ve got a new driver now.”

“Rent you a car? What are you talking about? Maddog will be there with the limo.”

“I don’t want the limo, Desmond. I just want you to rent us a car. We’ll meet you at the studio.”

There was a pause on the line, then Desmond cleared his throat. “You sure you’re all right, man?”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean, you sound like the Jaguar I know, but the words don’t match.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait. We’re going to make bank off this song, man. I tell you, bank.”

Jaguar disconnected the call and stared at the picture of the band on his display. Somehow it didn’t feel right to make bank off a song he’d written about Nancy. He shook himself and forced a smile for his father.

“Well, that was a surprise,” he said. “That is not what I expected at all.”

Henry pushed himself to his feet and went back to the stove. “You should have more faith in yourself,” he said, then turned his back and continued preparing dinner.

*    *    *

Jaguar walked out to the patio, taking a seat at the wrought iron table arranged next to the pool. Blown-glass lotus flowers with white candles inside floated on the water’s surface and fairy lights twinkled from the bushes along the pool’s edge.

He could hear the bass of the music pumping out into the warm night, hear the laughter of the partygoers as they socialized. Parties in Hollywood were interesting – a time to let loose, but also a time to solidify one’s standing in the hierarchy. Once he’d had the hunger to make the right connections, talk with the right people, be seen with the right women. He wondered where that drive had gone.

Max Stark came over and plopped into the seat next to him. He had a beer bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He drew on the cigarette, then blew out the smoke, letting it drift away on the sultry air. Max Stark, alias Maximus Starr, was a walking skeleton with pale blond hair dyed blue at the tips. His piercings were all down the center of his face – a metal bolt through his septum and one through his bottom lip. He played lead guitar for the band and Jaguar had known him since his junior year in high school. Max had come to Sequoia as a sophomore, strange and different, and Jaguar had been drawn to that shared spirit of being an outcast. Out of all the band members, he was closest to Max, and that wasn’t saying much.

“We nailed it today in the studio,” Max said.

“Yeah, it sounded good.”

“That song’s gonna be the hit of the year. Man, you are back.”

Jaguar looked out over the pool, watching a beautiful young couple swapping spit in the darker part of the yard. The guy was groping the girl and she was trying to hold him off. He wondered if he ought to intervene.

“I wrote one song. I’m not sure that means anything.”

“But Hifler thinks we can pull off a tour of Japan if that track’s as big as he thinks it’s gonna be.”

Jaguar knew Hifler wanted them to go on tour again, but his guts twisted when he thought of it. “You really wanna go on tour, Max?”

“What? You don’t.” He blew out smoke, then his eyes drifted over to the couple. “I live for being on tour.”

Jaguar watched them as well. The girl extricated herself and started walking back to the house. The boy threw up his hands in frustration and turned, looking out over the canyon behind Hifler’s house. Jaguar felt the tension ease inside of him.

“I’m just not sure. I mean, it’s months away from home,” he told the guitarist.

“And that’s the good news,” said Max, tilting the beer to his mouth. “What? You lost the taste for it or something?”

“Or something.”

Max looked over at him, meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry about your mom. That’s probably what this is, right? You’re just not over your mom yet.”

Jaguar considered that. He scratched at the tattoos on his forearm. He wasn’t over his mother’s death, that was true, but his reluctance had more to do with the living than the dead.

“Just wait until that song goes platinum. You’ll change your mind.” Max leaned on the table. “Look, I got some nice blunts in my glove compartment. Let’s get this party started the right way.”

Jaguar smiled, rubbing a hand over his chin. “I’m gonna pass.”

Max gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you shitting me?”

“Nope.” He touched his throat. “Trying to save the pipes. I’m not getting any younger. I’m gonna be thirty in three months.”

Max laughed. “No shit. I turned thirty last month.”

Jaguar thought it was a little sad that he hadn’t remembered Max’s birthday. They’d traveled the country together, but he didn’t remember when the man was born. There was something terrible about that. You could spend so much time with another person and still not know them.

Max pushed himself to his feet. “You just wait. You’ll be hot to hit the road again as soon as that song climbs the charts. You just wait.”

Jaguar nodded and watched him walk away. A few minutes later Hakim found him and took the seat Max had vacated. Hakim pressed his hands between his knees and looked out over the canyon. Jaguar marked that he had no drink.

“You staying sober because you have to drive me?”

Hakim looked over at him. “Naw, I don’t drink. Muslim.”

“Right.”

“Why aren’t you drinking?”

Jaguar blew out air. “I really don’t know. The guitarist…”

“Maximus Starr?”

“Right. He offered me some primo pot, but I don’t want that either.” Jaguar looked over his shoulder at the party inside the house, people talking, people dancing, people grinding against each other. He turned back to Hakim. “If I’m being honest, I don’t want to be here.”

“We can go,” said Hakim.

Jaguar smiled. “You aren’t having fun, being at a Hollywood party with beautiful men and women?”

Hakim watched the people inside the house again. “It’s great, if this is your scene, but I’d rather be home. So much quieter.”

Jaguar laughed. “Ah, Hakim, I think something’s broken inside of me.”

Hakim frowned. “How so?”

Jaguar motioned to the house. “This used to be my thing. I loved every minute of it. I’d be in there, getting high, trying to score with some chick I’d never met before. It was so exciting. So alive.” He shook his head. “Now all I want is to put up butterfly decals in my daughter’s room.”

Hakim nodded. “I think Mr. Jarvis is afraid you won’t come home.”

Jaguar didn’t think his father cared. It was probably easier on him to have Jaguar gone. “I expect he’s not thinking about me at all.”

Hakim shook his head, hunching his shoulders. “You’re wrong. He’s proud of you. He told me to watch out for you when we came down here. He said he was glad you were writing music again, but you were going into shark infested waters and you needed someone to watch your back. I told him that was my job and I promised I’d do it.”

Jaguar frowned. “He told you all this? When?”

“When I was loading the car to go to the airport.”

“Where was I?”

“You were on the phone.”

Jaguar considered that. He couldn’t believe his father had spared that much thought for him.

“You’re too hard on him,” continued Hakim. “My father never tells me he loves me.”

“Yeah, well, same here,” said Jaguar.

“Men of that generation didn’t do that. It was considered weak. You have to look at the other things he does if you want to see it. You have to look at the way he introduces you to people, the way he talks about you to strangers. That’s how you know what he really thinks.”

Jaguar thought about that for a moment.

Hakim shifted uncomfortably. “Am I saying too much?”

Jaguar’s gaze snapped to the other man’s face. “Saying too much?”

“Being too forward with you.”

“No,” said Jaguar. “I want you to be honest. I appreciate it. For so long, people just told me what I wanted to hear. Maddog and Bruno, my other bodyguards, never contradicted me. I like that you tell me what you think.”

Hakim smiled, ducking his head. “Then, can I tell you I’m ready to go back to the hotel?”

Jaguar laughed, pushing himself to his feet. “Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough Hollywood for one night.”

CHAPTER 14

Jaguar nailed the last nail into the board and took a step back, surveying the work. Tate moved to his side and tilted his head, his own hammer dangling from his hand. Jaguar looked over at him.

“Well, it only took us…” He looked at his cell phone. “Eight hours.”

“Record time,” said Tate. “The more impressive part is that the thing’s level and it’s not coming down anytime soon.”

Jaguar twirled the hammer in his hand. “Would you believe that’s the first thing I’ve ever built with my own hands?”

He felt Tate’s eyes on him and he looked over.

“Yeah, I’d believe it,” said Tate, then they both laughed.

The slider opened behind them and Pam walked out, carrying two glasses of iced tea. Condensation beaded on the glass and Jaguar took it, pressing it against his throat. “Thank you,” he said.

She handed Tate his glass and he took a sip.

“Wow, that tastes good,” he said. “Thanks.”

Jaguar sipped as well.

Pam put her hands on her hips and scrutinized their work. “It’s a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be.”

Jaguar felt his stomach drop. He so wanted the kids to like it. “Really? I just wanted them to have something to play on out here.”

“They’re gonna love it,” she said. “I’ll never get them inside now.”

Suddenly the back door opened, emitting Jasper and Evan. “Is it done?” Jasper asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Sure is. Give it a try,” said Jaguar.

The boys ran over to the swings and Tate followed, carrying his iced tea. Jaguar watched them begin climbing on the jungle gym, their faces alight with happiness.

“Thank you,” said Pam beside him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

He shrugged, sipping at the iced tea. “What’s Pops doing?”

“Coloring with the girls. He’s making a pink pony.”

Jaguar raised his brows in surprise. “Well, that’s amazing.”

She laughed. “Sophia’s actually talking to him.”

Jaguar couldn’t deny that seemed even more impressive. He couldn’t get Sophia to say three words to him. “When do you think she can come stay with me?”

Pam’s expression grew troubled and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Soon. I don’t want to rush anything.”

“I know, but we’re setting up a room for her. I ordered furniture and everything. It should be here in a week.”

Pam’s back stiffened. “Look, Jaguar, her mother just died. She just met you a few weeks ago. Don’t you think it’s a little early to be forcing a whole new experience on her. She hardly knows you.”

“I’m not trying to push anything, Pam. I just thought, maybe, we could talk about it.”

Pam closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Look, this is hard on me.” She motioned to the table on the porch behind them. “Can we sit and talk about it?”

“Sure.”

He followed her over to the table and they sat, facing the yard so they could watch the boys at play. Jaguar wanted to pick up the conversation, but he didn’t want to rush Pam. He caught a drop of condensation with his index finger and smoothed it onto the glass.

“I miss my sister,” Pam finally said. She glanced over at him. “I’m sure that seems weird to you after what she did, but I really miss her.”

“It doesn’t seem weird.”

“Sophia’s all that’s left of her. She’s all I have.”

Not so long ago, Pam had threatened to put Sophia in foster care if he didn’t take her, he thought bitterly, but he wasn’t being fair. She’d been afraid and overwhelmed. People said horrible things when they were feeling trapped. Well, maybe not quite that horrible, but he’d seen Pam with his daughter. She loved the little girl and Sophia loved her.

“I was there when Sophia was born. I was one of the first people to hold her.”

But he was her father. He resisted the impulse to say that. He didn’t want an adversarial relationship with Pam.

“I’m just finding it hard to let go.”

“We’ll take it slow then,” he said, “but I want Sophia to stay with me part of the time, Pam. I lost five years with her. I know I can’t make up that time, but I don’t want to lose anymore. There’s so much I don’t know about her, so much I just wasn’t there to see. Like, does she start kindergarten in September?”

“She does. I’ve already enrolled her.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I won’t keep you out of those things, Jaguar. I promise you. In fact, there’s an open house in early September for parents to bring their kids and check out their assigned classroom, meet with the teacher. I’ll get you that date.”

“That’s good. I want to be there.”

She shifted to face him. “But that’s the thing, Jaguar. That’s the problem I’m having with letting your relationship with her go any deeper.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You may want to be there, but will you be there? Or will you go back on tour?”

Jaguar considered that. How could he know? Right now, the tour was just a nebulous plan, but if things went the way Hifler predicted, it would be more than a plan, it would be a reality. The slider opened and the girls came out, each holding one of his father’s hands.

Pam beamed at them. “Are you done coloring?”

“We sure are. We put the pictures on the fridge,” said Amanda, skipping and swinging Henry’s hand.

Henry’s smile was as broad as Amanda’s. He was clearly smitten with both little girls, but Sophia kept her eyes downcast, staring at the ground, both hands clasped around her grandfather’s.

“Look what Jaguar and Tate made you,” said Pam, pointing to the jungle gym.

“Oh wow!” exclaimed Amanda, tugging on Henry’s hand. “Let’s go play on it, Pops,” she urged.

Sophia disengaged herself as Amanda dragged Henry toward the swing set. Pam and Jaguar exchanged a look. Laughter could be heard as the boys played hide and seek with Tate, while Amanda made Henry push her on the swing.

Jaguar’s heart twisted at the sight of his daughter, watching the other children, her hands clasped under her chin. Pam jerked her head at the little girl, urging him to do something, but what? He didn’t know how to bring Sophia out of her shell.

He rose to his feet and crossed to her, hunkering down at her side. “You wanna see the fort?”

She leaned against him and nodded. He rose and took her hand, leading her to the ladder. She scrambled up it and stood at the top, looking down on him. He smiled at her, then he climbed up after her.

She took his hand and led him into the small building. He had to crawl in on his hands and knees, but he didn’t care. They could hear the screeching of the boys outside the wooden structure as Sophia climbed into his lap, snuggling back against him.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed, wrapping his arms around her. He couldn’t believe how quickly this little person had stolen his heart. “What do you think?” he asked her, staring up at the wooden beams overhead.

She didn’t answer, just sat, her small fingers toying with the leather straps tied around his wrist.

“I had a fort like this when I was a kid. I used to bring my guitar out and play. I pretended that I was playing for the garden gnomes my mother collected and put under the bushes.”

She tilted her head up and looked at him. He kissed her forehead and she settled back around.

He wasn’t sure how to break through to her. He didn’t understand children and this one was more baffling than most. She’d already suffered so much loss, it made him ache for her. He pressed his cheek to her hair and closed his eyes.

“One of the gnomes,” he said, “was a little guy, smaller than the others. He had a red nose and a yellow hood.”

Sophia’s fingers stilled on his wrist. He could tell she was listening.

He opened his eyes. “He was also the quiet one. He didn’t like to talk to anyone.”

She shifted to get more comfortable.

“He always worried that what he had to say wasn’t as important as the others. They all had stories to tell, they knew so many things that he didn’t know, and he was afraid they’d laugh at him.”

Jaguar braced his back against the wall of the fort, listening to the children playing around them. He figured Sophia was listening to them also, and he wished she wanted to join them. He’d give anything to see her racing around, laughing like a normal child.

“He felt very alone, the littlest gnome, like he didn’t belong anywhere, but his mother told him he had a special gift, something no one else had. He could sing. She’d heard him when he thought he was all alone, wandering among the toadstools. She’d heard him humming to himself at night as he tried to go to sleep. And she told him it was okay to be different. It was okay to be special. He would find his place someday. He would find out where he belonged.”

Jaguar felt his throat tighten and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant this story to take this turn, but it had. Sophia had gone still, listening to him. He wondered if she understood anything that he was telling her.

“One day, he was out among the toadstools, singing to them like he did when he thought he was alone, but this time he wasn’t. Someone heard him. Someone was listening and they told the others. Before he knew it, the gnomes were all hiding behind the toadstools, trying to hear his song, wanting to be near him. They told him it didn’t matter that he was different, they told him it didn’t matter that he was small, they told him it didn’t matter that he didn’t talk. All that mattered, they said, was that he sing. And so he did. He sang to them everyday and from that day forward, he was never alone again.”

He drew a deep breath and released it on a sigh. So did Sophia, then she began plucking at his leather wrist bands once more.

“I miss my mama,” she said in a soft voice.

Jaguar went still. The words were so quiet, he wasn’t sure he’d heard them. “I miss my mama too,” he said.

Sophia shifted and looked up at him. “Where is your mama?”

He gave her a sad smile, smoothing back her long hair. “Heaven,” he answered. “Same place as yours.”

Her little face grew grim, then she turned around again, leaning back into him. Her hands went to the strings and plucked at them. She didn’t say anything else and he didn’t press it.

It was enough for now.

*    *    *

Hakim dropped Jaguar and Henry off that night, waving as he drove out of the gated community. Henry watched him go, then he turned for the walkway, making his way to the front door.

“He’s a good guy,” said Henry, taking out his house keys.

Jaguar nodded, feeling distracted by the evening. Sophia hadn’t eaten much. She hadn’t even finished dessert, but when it was time for bed, she’d tugged on his hand and asked him tuck her in. Then she’d gotten a story book out of the bookshelf and brought it to him. Amanda had climbed onto her bed and the two of them had listened to Jaguar read, until they were both nodding toward sleep.

Jaguar thought of it now. Such a simple thing to do, but he’d enjoyed it. He wanted to see some spark of life in Sophia, some of the mischief her cousins had, but he’d take what she’d given him, the shared moment in the fort.

Henry pushed open the door, stepping inside, and Jaguar followed him. “Did you talk to Pam about Sophia staying here?”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t really receptive to it.”

“Why?” Henry turned to face him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jaguar glanced up in surprise as he closed the door at his back. He hadn’t heard this combative tone in Henry since his mother died. “Why? Because she thinks it’s too soon. Sophia’s only known me for a few weeks.”

“You’re her father. There’s no denying that.”

“No one’s trying to deny it, but I haven’t exactly been in Sophia’s life the last five years.”

“You’re in it now. Isn’t this the same woman who threatened to put her in foster care?’

“She didn’t mean it, Pops.”

“She said it. You can use that against her in court. She’s the aunt. You’re the father. You have more right to your daughter than she does. Why don’t you take some of that damn money you’re always talking about and use it on a lawyer?”

“I’m not taking Pam to court.” He gave his father a bewildered look. Where was this coming from all of a sudden? They were standing in the middle of the living room, arguing about what he should do regarding custody. Henry had just met Sophia tonight. What the hell had brought this on?

“This is so like you. You just give up whenever it gets hard.”

“I’m not giving up, but she has a point. Sophia’s been through a lot. She needs some time to adjust to everything. Besides, she’s also right when she says she doesn’t know if I’m going to be around.”

“What does that mean? You’re going to cut out on your responsibilities?”

“I’m not cutting out, but if we go on tour, I’ll be gone for months.”

Henry went still. “Tour? What do you mean tour?”

“If this record sells as well as Hifler thinks it will, he wants to set up a tour to Japan, then one for the states. It’ll mean months of travel with very little down time.”

Henry took a step closer to him, punctuating his words with his finger. “You have a daughter now!”

“You think I don’t know that.”

“Do you? Do you really understand that? Being a father isn’t something you can half-ass, Jerome. Being a father means you dedicate your life to that person!”

Rage spiked in Jaguar. Henry Jarvis was lecturing him on what it meant to be a father. He laughed in disbelief. “You’re telling me how to be a father! You?”

Henry reared back from him, his expression going stark, but Jaguar was too furious to see the look on his face.

“I can’t believe you! You think you have any right to tell me how to be a father! You! You were never there. You never gave a damn. The only thing I got from you was ridicule and that was only when you weren’t ignoring me.” Jaguar made a slashing motion with his hand. “Don’t you ever tell me how to act like a father, Pops, when you never were one yourself!”

He whirled and stormed to the door, yanking it open, then he stepped outside and slammed the door at his back. But once outside he didn’t know where to go. He didn’t have keys for Henry’s car and Hakim had the Mercedes. He stalked down the walkway to the street and started walking. He had no idea where he wanted to go. He just knew he had to get away.

If he had a car, he’d go to a bar and drink. He could call Hakim and tell him to pick him up, but that wasn’t fair. Hakim needed time off. He could call Tate and see if he’d go out drinking, but he’d monopolized Tate all day.

He found himself wandering toward the pond and the bench where his mother had sat so many times. He slumped onto it, suddenly tired, and stared over the lake. The ducks were small mounds sleeping in the grass on the edge of the water. A few meandered idly around the lake itself, the ripples of their feet reflecting back in the starlight. He could smell the redwood trees and hear the soft lapping of the water against the shore.

He drew a deep breath and held it, then he slowly released it, trying to calm himself. He hadn’t gotten this angry in a long time and he didn’t like it. As he cooled down, he felt guilty for what he’d said to his father.

Henry hadn’t been a good parent, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be told so to his face. Jaguar’s mother had always told him Henry was a good man, a hard man, but a good man. He did his best by them and that was more than a lot of men could say. He’d never understood how she could defend her husband, but she’d never wavered in her devotion.

And when she got sick, Henry had repaid that loyalty. It must have been hard to watch the woman he loved waste away, forgetting even her husband on bad days. Jaguar knew how devastated he’d been when she forgot him.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Damn it, he should just go back to LA and forget all of this.

He blinked in surprise when a man appeared walking around the other side of the lake with a little dog on a leash. The man spotted him and headed in his direction. Something about the way he moved in the gathering darkness seemed familiar.

As he got closer, Jaguar recognized Jim Dawson, his old English teacher. Jim held up a hand and angled away from the lake, coming toward him. Jaguar held up a hand in return, eying the silly little dog, a tiny black poodle with a puffball on top of its head, adorned with a pink bow.

“Hey, Mr. Dawson, what are you doing out here?”

Jim Dawson took a seat on the bench beside him. The little dog sidled toward Jaguar, sniffing at his sneaker. “Just walking Brutus here. I walk him every night before bed.”

“I didn’t know you lived in this community.”

Dawson made a grunt. “I didn’t want my house getting egged.”

Jaguar laughed, reaching down to let Brutus sniff his hand. “Brutus, huh? You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

Dawson scratched at his beard. “The name fits the personality. You should know that, boy.”

Jaguar gave a nod and leaned back. “I guess so.”

Dawson picked up the pup and settled him on his lap.

“Why the pink bow?” Jaguar said.

Dawson frowned at him. “Irony. If you’d ever studied, you might have learned it.”

Jaguar gave a grunt of amusement.

“What are you doing out here?”

Jaguar jogged his leg up and down. Damn, he could go for a fat joint right now. It would mellow him right out. “Pops and I had a squabble.”

“Huh,” said Dawson. “About what?”

“Sophia.”

“Your daughter?”

“Right. He thinks I should take Pam to court for custody.”

“I see. You disagree?”

“I disagree. I might be going back on the road for a tour and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“And he doesn’t approve of that?”

“He doesn’t approve of anything I do.”

Dawson digested that, stroking a hand over Brutus’ head. “I think that’s a bit harsh.”

“Yeah, well, you try living with him for eighteen years. When he wasn’t ignoring me, he was shouting at me, telling me what a loser I was.”

Dawson was quiet for a while, then he cleared his throat. “Minnie and I couldn’t have kids. We tried for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dawson nodded in acceptance. “It wasn’t as hard for me as it was for Minnie. I had the kids I taught, but she didn’t have that.”

Jaguar studied the man’s profile in the darkness. It felt a little strange to be talking about such intimate things with his past teacher, but Jaguar was a grown man now.

“Thing is I was always a little relieved we didn’t have kids.”

“Why?”

Dawson looked over at him, his big hand stroking the tiny dog’s head. Brutus half-closed his eyes in pleasure. “I didn’t want to screw them up and I was afraid I would.”

Jaguar frowned.

“But the truth is, you’re going screw them up, no matter what you do or how hard you try.”

Jaguar gave a surprised laugh. “That’s great comfort, Mr. Dawson.”

Dawson chuckled as well. “I just mean, you’re gonna make mistakes. You’re gonna do things wrong, read situations wrong, over-react. You might even push your kid away without really knowing why.”

“You know why you’re pushing them away. You hate them.”

Dawson clicked his tongue in displeasure. “You’re not a child anymore, Jerome. You know that’s a load of horse shit.”

“I’ve never heard you swear before.”

“Well, get over it. You’re almost thirty. You can handle some profanity.”

“Not from my teacher,” he said wryly.

Dawson chuckled again. “Your father doesn’t hate you and you know it.”

Jaguar shook his head. “I’m not sure I do, Mr. Dawson. I mean, I want to believe you, but the way he looks at me and the things he says – nothing I’ve done has ever been good enough.”

“You think maybe he was trying to prepare you for the brutality of the world outside. You think he didn’t see a sensitive kid and worry he wasn’t tough enough to handle what was going to be thrown at him. And then that kid was an artist, a musician. Well, we chew up artists and spit them out in this world, Jerome. We consume them.”

Jaguar hadn’t thought of it that way, but it made sense, considering Anaconda was facing obscurity after less than a decade in the spotlight.

“Maybe Henry didn’t handle the situation right, but maybe he didn’t know any other way. And maybe you should realize that he’s hurting right now and you’re all he’s got. Maybe you should realize he’s afraid he’s done so much damage to you that you’re going to walk away. Maybe he’s afraid he’s going to lose you.”

Jaguar watched the moonlight on the lake and thought about Jim Dawson’s words. They made sense. He’d considered walking away and never looking back. He returned to Sequoia all these years because of his mother, but she was gone. There was very little holding him to Sequoia now and Henry knew it.

He rubbed his temple with a hand. “God, I miss my mother.”

Jim Dawson nodded. “I know you do, son. I know you do,” he said.

CHAPTER 15

Jaguar and Henry avoided each other for the next week. Jaguar wanted to talk to him, but every time he tried, Henry hurried from the room or shut a door or left, driving off in the car. After a while, Jaguar gave up. It wasn’t like this incarnation of their relationship was any different than the rest had been.

Coming into the living room, he found Henry watching a game show in his recliner. Jaguar had the open house at Sophia’s school to attend. He was going to meet her teacher, see the school, and act like a parent. Pam actually wanted him on the paperwork, so they’d call him too if there was an emergency. Such a simple thing, being an emergency contact, but it solidified his role in Sophia’s life. It made it permanent.

“Can I take the car?” he asked his father, speaking to him for the first time since their fight.

Henry looked up at him, his eyes distant, then he blinked and looked him over. Jaguar had opted for a collared shirt and jacket, and jeans without holes. He’d even removed some of his piercings. It was time to grow up, he figured.

“Sure.”

“I won’t be late.”

“Where’s Hakim?”

“He has the day off.”

Henry nodded and reached into his pocket for the keys, tossing them to Jaguar. Jaguar expected a don’t wreck it, but Henry just went back to watching television. Jaguar walked to the door and left.

Driving out of the gate, Jaguar realized Sophia was going to the same grade school he’d went to as a child. Better yet, it was only a few blocks from the house Pam had. The kids would be able to walk to school.

He pulled up next to Pam as she was getting all of the kids out of her minivan. Amanda spotted him and ran over as he climbed out, tugging on his hand.

“I’m going to be in first grade, Uncle Jaguar,” she said.

He blinked at her, stunned, then gave Pam a surprised look. “Uncle?” he mouthed.

Pam smiled. “We had a little talk about your relationship to the family. I hope it’s okay.”

He smiled back. “Yeah, it is.” He swung Amanda’s hand. “I can’t wait to see your classroom.”

The boys gamboled around them as they headed toward the building and Sophia walked beside Pam, holding her hand, but she looked over her shoulder at Jaguar. As soon as they neared the school and the crowd of kids, Sophia took his free hand in hers and pulled him up beside her aunt.

“We’re gonna find our classes,” said Jasper.

“Stay together,” warned Pam, but they’d already darted off.

“Let’s go to first grade, Mama,” said Amanda, skipping next to him. “First grade’s this way. We don’t have the baby yard anymore.”

Pam gave her daughter a stern look. “We’ll go there next. Right now, we’re going to Sophia’s class first.”

Jaguar looked around at all of the parents. Most were dressed conservatively, their hair tamed, and if they had tattoos, he couldn’t see them. For the most part, only the women had earrings in their ears. He wanted to fidget, but he forced himself to look straight ahead and not panic.

They came to a door with a blue bear on it that said Kindergarten across its tummy. The room inside had miniature tables and chairs, bookcases choked with bright colored books, and areas set off with primary colored floor tiles that held toys of every variety. Across the upper walls were placards with the alphabet and numbers printed on them, and every bulletin board sported pictures of cartoon animals, saying a word like window, door, or wall.

The room was filled with parents and children. Sophia pressed against his leg, turning her face into him. He put his hand on her back and stroked her hair. He could feel her trembling. A young woman with long, straight black hair approached them. She wore a floral print dress with a white sweater. She had large, almond-shaped eyes that were almost black and flawless brown skin. Her features were stunning and her full mouth lifted in a smile. Jaguar immediately noticed the tiny nose ring she sported and he relaxed.

She held out her hand first to Pam. “I’m Miss Adowani, but the kids just call me Miss A.”

Jaguar and Pam exchanged a look, then Pam shook her hand. “I’m Pam Rosen, Sophia’s aunt.” She touched the top of Sophia’s head. “Are you related to Hakim Adowani?”

She laughed, a pleasant sound, and Jaguar found himself entranced. “He’s my older brother.” She turned those dark eyes on him and her smile brightened. Her teeth were white and straight, accentuated by her red lips, and earrings dangled from her ears, brushing against the strands of her hair. She offered him her hand. “I would recognize you anywhere. My brother speaks highly of you, Mr. Jarvis. We are very grateful for the job you’ve given him.”

Jaguar accepted her hand, feeling a jolt of attraction unlike any he’d felt in a long time. “Please, as I told Hakim, just call me Jaguar.”

She nodded, then squatted down to Sophia’s level. “And you must be Sophia.”

Sophia pressed her forehead against Jaguar’s hip.

“I think you’ll like kindergarten. We’ll learn our alphabet and numbers and how to write our name. Sophia’s such a lovely name. Can I show you where your desk is?”

Amanda tugged on Pam’s arm. “Let’s go see first grade, Mama. I wanna meet my teacher.”

Pam gave Jaguar an anxious look.

“Go ahead,” he told her. “We’ll catch up.”

Miss A rose and smiled at her. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Rosen.”

“Same here. I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, then she let Amanda drag her out of the room.

Miss A held out her hand, but Sophia pressed closer to Jaguar. Miss A gently took her little hand and drew her away, pointing across the room. “This is your desk, Sophia.” She guided her to a tiny desk with a name tag taped to the surface. It read Sophia and a bunch of butterflies encircled the letters. Jaguar stopped, his heart kicking against his ribs. Why had the teacher chosen butterflies? When he looked at the other nametags, he saw puppies and kittens and fuzzy yellow ducklings.

Sophia looked back at him, her little face distressed. He moved to her side and pulled out the chair.

“Take a seat, baby girl,” he said, kneeling next to her. He ran his fingers over the nametag. “This says Sophia. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“I like the butterflies,” she said softly.

Miss A smiled at her. “Butterflies are lovely, aren’t they?”

Jaguar looked into the desk. “Look at this – a new box of crayons, pencils, and paper.”

Sophia peered into the desk, then she smiled at him. “You forgot the eraser.”

He ducked down and looked again. “I did. It was hiding from me.”

Sophia giggled and Jaguar realized it was such a wonderful sound. He kissed her temple, drawing a smile from Miss A.

A little girl with curling black hair, dark skin, and enormous brown eyes approached them, her parents watching just a few steps away. Jaguar smiled at them as the girl tugged on her dress and swayed side to side.

“I’m Dharia,” she said. “Wanna look at books.”

Sophia’s blue eyes rose to his face. He gave her a nod of encouragement. She climbed out of the desk and followed the other girl over to the books where they took a seat on the floor. Jaguar and Miss A watched them, then the teacher turned to him.

“I’m glad you came tonight. It’s very important for the kindergarteners to gradually work their way into this new transition,” she said.

Jaguar tore his eyes from his daughter and gave the teacher a tight smile. He was glad to see Sophia responding to another child, but even now, she kept him in her line of sight. He wished she had just a little more spirit, a little more feistiness in her.

“She’s been through a lot,” he said.

“Yes, I know, but children are amazingly resilient.”

He held up a hand and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I have zero experience with children, but Sophia seems so shy, so withdrawn.”

“Like a butterfly,” said Miss A, watching her.

Jaguar studied the teacher’s profile. Something about her exuded calm and competence. He could understand why she’d make a good kindergarten teacher. Just standing next to her eased some of the anxiety inside Jaguar.

“I think you’ll be good for her,” he said.

Her eyes whipped back to his face and she gave him a bemused smile. He realized he hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the ground, shifting weight.

“Sorry. I’m really bad with this.”

“You’re doing fine,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.

He stared at her hand and realized it had been a long time since someone had touched him with such warmth and gentleness. He looked up into her dark eyes and she drew a breath, drawing her hand away.

“I should go meet some other parents,” she said, “but if you have any questions for me, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He nodded, watching her walk away, then he went to the reading area and watched Sophia and her new friend sharing a book, their heads together, pointing at the animals. A while later, Pam returned with the other kids and they all walked to the cars together, Amanda once more taking his hand and skipping beside him, chattering about the wonders of the first grade classroom.

The boys raced around them, forcing Pam to warn them about the cars trying to leave the parking lot. On his other side, Sophia curled her hand in his and stared up at him. He smiled at her, giving her a wink. She smiled back and laid her head on his forearm.

Opening the minivan, Pam herded the boys inside first, then Jaguar lifted both Amanda and Sophia into their car seats and buckled the seat belts. When he started to move back, Sophia threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, pressing her little cheek to the side of his face.

He hugged her in return, emotions rising inside of him, then she released him and he stepped back from the van door. Pam gave him a smile as she shut the slider. He looked away, blinking rapidly, and drew a few deep breaths. He couldn’t believe how emotional these last few weeks had been. Damn, being sober was a bitch.

“What do you think about keeping Sophia overnight on Labor Day weekend? We could try Saturday night at first, then I could pick her up Sunday afternoon. Maybe we could all go out for pizza that night. Monday we’d go school clothes shopping, the girls and me, then Tuesday morning, you could come with us to take her to school.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that would be great. That’s this weekend.”

“Right.”

“When are you taking the boys to get clothes?”

“I’ll take them Sunday and we can meet you after we’re done.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the van. “Can I help you buy them clothes?”

“Jaguar…”

“No, hear me out. You told them I was their uncle. Well, why can’t I help get them clothes for school? At least let me buy the shoes.”

She laughed. “Do you realize how often I have to buy shoes?”

“I remember,” he said. “It’s not charity, Pam. Not if you’re going to let me be part of the family. It’s just what people do.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling open the driver’s side door. “Okay. You can buy the shoes.”

“And Sophia’s clothes. Please.”

“Okay. Sophia’s clothes.”

“And the pizza.”

She rolled her eyes, climbing into the van. “We’ll split the pizza,” she said. “Goodnight, Jaguar.”

“Goodnight, Pam,” he said, then he touched the window by Sophia.

She leaned over and pressed her hand to his on the other side of the glass. He didn’t move until Pam had driven away. As he walked toward his father’s car, he saw Sophia’s teacher walking to her own car. She waved at him, changing directions to meet him.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said.

“Thank you.”

When she gave him a questioning look, he motioned back to the school. “I mean for having the open house. I mean for being here. I mean…”

She laughed.

He had a strong urge to ask her out for a drink, but he knew that would be a bad idea on so many levels. First, she was Hakim’s sister. Second, she was Sophia’s teacher, and third, he was probably leaving soon on tour.

“I just wanted to tell you that I admire what you’re trying to do, Jaguar.”

His brows rose. “Okay?”

She laughed again. “I mean, a lot changed for you quite suddenly and yet, here you are, making the best of it.”

He leaned close to her, dropping his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I just pretend like I do.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her laugh. He found that charming. Damn, he found a lot charming about her and he knew it was bad that he did.

“I’m glad Sophia has you for a teacher, Miss A.”

She reared back, giving him an arch look. “Miss A?”

“Miss Adowani?” he tried.

She shook her head. “My name’s Kallista. You can call me that outside of school.”

Outside of school? Was she flirting with him? He was so out of practice, he wasn’t sure. “Okay, Kallista.” He gave her a smile. “Just don’t tell your brother. I don’t want to get beat up.”

She waved him off. “Ask him who beat up who when we were growing up. He’s such a pansy.”

A laugh bubbled out of Jaguar and she blushed, looking down. She motioned to a little hatchback across the parking lot. “I should get home, but it was nice to finally meet you.”

He nodded. “It was nice to meet you, Kallista,” he said, purring out her name.

She paused, her lips parting, and he knew she wasn’t immune to him either. Okay, maybe three obstacles weren’t too much to overcome. “Goodnight, Jaguar,” she said and turned, hurrying for her car.

*    *    *

Saturday morning, Jaguar arranged the toys he’d bought Sophia over and over again. He hadn’t been sure what she liked, so he went down the aisles in the toy store in Visalia and bought a bunch of stuff. He realized Sequoia needed a toy store of its own.

He purchased the requisite girl toys, but he didn’t want to pigeonhole her into gender stereotypes, so he also bought her a football and a soccer ball. Then he’d gone to the bookstore and stocked up on books the helpful teenage worker said were the hot ones for five year olds. He’d carefully arranged them in the bookcase three times – once alphabetically, once by color, and finally by animal, vegetable or mineral. He wasn’t sure why he’d landed on the last one, but it worked.

He’d also found a fluffy yellow duckling in the store and bought it in memory of his mother. That lay in the middle of her bed. Henry had picked out a blue butterfly quilt to go with the decals on the walls and Zion had recommended dust ruffles and curtains in crisp white. Trixie Taylor, the owner of Trinkets by Trixie, had found him a blue butterfly throw-rug, which he’d laid in the middle of the floor. Henry had bought a small table and chairs online, and had scored a number of coloring books and crayons.

When the doorbell rang, Jaguar almost jumped out of his skin. He hurried out into the living room and came to a halt as Henry let Pam, Amanda, and Sophia into the house. Sophia tugged a little pink suitcase with white casters after her and she clung to Pam’s hand.

“Good morning,” Pam said.

“Morning,” said Henry.

Jaguar nodded, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. Sophia had her same anxious expression, looking up at him through her lashes, while Amanda bounced into the room, a ball of energy.

“Mama said to say your house is nice. Why do you have a gate on the road? Are they afraid to let you out?” she asked Henry.

Henry and Pam laughed, then Pam put a restraining hand on her daughter’s head. “Manners, Amanda,” she said.

“The gate’s to make sure the trees stay outside,” said Henry.

Amanda tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look. “I saw trees inside.”

Henry held out his hands. “I know. It’s not working.”

Amanda giggled and Jaguar caught Sophia’s faint laugh. That was good. He relaxed a little when he saw it. He stepped forward and hunkered down in front of his daughter. “You wanna see your room?”

“Yeah,” said Amanda. “Show us now.”

Jaguar gave Pam a surprised glance and she shook her head at her daughter.

“Manners, Amanda,” she said again.

“Can I take your bag, my lady?” said Jaguar in a pretend British accent.

Sophia smiled and ducked her head, but she surrendered the suitcase to him. He rose to his feet and took her free hand, guiding her to the hallway. Jaguar made sure to block the entrance, so Sophia could get the first look at her room without Amanda interfering.

Sophia stepped inside and stared around at everything with wonder, turning a circle in the middle of the room. Pam peeked over Jaguar’s shoulder.

“This is amazing, Jaguar,” she said.

He shrugged. “Pops did most of the work.”

“Bah,” said Henry.

Jaguar stepped inside and Amanda took the opportunity to shove her way in behind him. “Wow, I want a room like this, Mama.”

Jaguar mouthed sorry to Pam, but she just shrugged. Amanda raced around, looking at everything, lifting things and putting them down. She pulled a book from the book shelf. “We got this one,” she told him, holding it up.

“Good, the boy at the bookstore was right then,” he answered. She walked over to the toy chest and reached inside, pulling out a football. She gave Jaguar an arch look. “Football?”

“Girls can play football,” he said.

Pam laughed. “Of course they can.”

Jaguar walked over to the bed and took a seat on it. He picked up the yellow duckling and motioned Sophia over. She came to him and rested her hand on his knee. He held the duckling out to her.

“My mother liked ducks a lot. Maybe later we can walk down to the pond and feed them.”

Sophia accepted the duck, rubbing her face on the fluffy yellow coat. “I like ducks too,” she said in a soft voice.

“What do you have for snacks?” asked Amanda, clearly bored with the room now.

Jaguar open his mouth, but he didn’t know what they had by way of snacks. Thankfully, Pam intervened again. “We’re leaving. We don’t have time for snacks.” She walked over to Sophia and knelt beside her. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon and we’ll go for pizza. Okay?”

Sophia nodded, holding the duck close.

“If you need me, you just tell Jaguar to call me. Okay?”

Sophia nodded again.

Pam leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Can I have a hug?”

Sophia clung to her aunt a moment, but Henry stepped into the room, moving to the table. “I bought some coloring books, Sophia. Wanna look at them with me?”

Sophia released her aunt and wandered over to the table, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Jaguar rose and walked Pam and Amanda to the front door, stepping out on the porch.

While Amanda raced around the yard, spinning in circles, Pam turned to Jaguar. “You’ll be fine.”

“Does she ever say more than three words?”

“She does. She’s just feeling shy, Jaguar. This is a big change for her.”

“Do you think we should take her to see someone?”

“Who?”

“A counselor?”

“Not right now. Let’s give her a little more time.” She put her hand on his arm. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and everything will work itself out.”

He nodded, but he still wasn’t sure, his eyes going past her to the little girl collapsing on the grass, giggling wildly. He’d give anything to see his own daughter be so uninhibited. Pam watched her as well.

“Don’t judge Sophia by Amanda, Jaguar,” she said. “Every child’s an individual. Sophia was never rambunctious like this one.” She held out her hand. “But she’s strong in her own way. I promise you that.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll call if we have any problems.”

Pam smiled at him. “You won’t. You’ll be just fine.” Then she turned down the walkway, motioning Amanda to her. Jaguar watched until they pulled away, then he went back into the house, heading for Sophia’s room.

He found Henry and Sophia coloring at the table, their heads nearly touching. He watched them for a moment, then he decided he would make lunch. He didn’t want to do anything that would disrupt his father’s time with his granddaughter.

*    *    *

The day passed quickly. They walked Sophia to the pond and she fed the ducks, giggling when silly birds came running out of the water toward her. Then she helped Jaguar make dinner by setting the table, while he made hamburgers and French fries. He was surprised when she offered to set the table, but she said she’d done it all the time for her mama. She did tell Jaguar he needed to get her a step stool so she could reach the dishes, and Jaguar made a mental note to get one the next time Hakim drove him into town.

Taking a seat at the table, he watched his daughter’s little hands folding the napkins and putting them beside the plates.

“Folded napkins?” he said, smiling.

She gave him a sideways look as if that was a ridiculous statement. It was the first spark of anything but shyness he’d seen and he treasured it.

“Mama said a table should always have napkins.”

“Did you always eat at the table? Pops and me, we eat in the living room sometimes?”

“Mama said dinnertime was family time. No TV.”

Jaguar smoothed her hair. “I like that. Do you think we should have that rule here?”

She gave him a bewildered look. “Yes.”

He laughed. “Done.”

Her face darkened and she looked down at her hands. “Sometimes Mama couldn’t eat. I had to eat by myself.”

Jaguar closed his eyes briefly. No child should have to watch her mother die.

She looked up at him. “Do you get sick ever?”

He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Your mama had a very bad sickness, Sophia, but I don’t have that. I’m fine.”

“Will you ever have it?”

He leaned back, so he could look her in the eyes. “I can’t tell you that, I wish I could, but I plan to stay around for a long, long time.”

She sank into him, resting her head on his chest. “Did your mama have the sickness?”

Jaguar sighed. He so wasn’t good at talking about stuff like this, but he knew she needed to hear it, hear that she wasn’t alone in losing her mother. “She had a different sickness, but it was just as bad.”

Sophia nodded against him. “Thank you for my bedroom,” she said. “I had one with Mama, but now I share with Amanda.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, hugging her a little tighter. “You are so welcome, little girl.”

After dinner and a cartoon musical on the television, Jaguar helped Sophia get her teeth brushed and she put on the new pajamas he’d bought her, then she’d asked Henry to read her a story.

Jaguar stood in the doorway of her room, watching his father sitting next to the little girl, reading from one of the books he’d bought her. She was holding the yellow duckling and smiling. He couldn’t believe how much life this shy child had breathed back into the house. So much of the time, he and his father walked past one another, never speaking, going about their lives, but today had been all about Sophia, both of them concentrating on her.

His phone rang and he stepped out of the doorway, not wanting to disrupt them. He walked into the living room and thumbed it on, putting it to his ear. “Desmond?” he said.

“Hey, if it isn’t nature boy. You done communing with the redwoods and stuff yet? Come on, you gotta miss the bright lights and sushi.”

Jaguar didn’t respond. He knew Hifler would never understand that he didn’t miss it. Stating so would only make Hifler scoff at him, telling him he was lying to himself. “What’s up?”

“Drum roll please,” said Hifler and Jaguar could hear a drumming sound on the line.

He waited it out, finding his attention was more on the room he’d left than this phone call.

“Shadow Eyes is number one on iTunes.”

That stopped him cold. “What? Wasn’t it just released a few days ago?”

“Yep. Top of the charts, baby! Can you believe it?”

Jaguar couldn’t. He stared out the window to the quiet street, his heart hammering in his ears. His song had hit number one this quickly? They hadn’t had a hit in years, and he didn’t ever remember reaching the top this fast before.

“Have we ever made it to the top this soon?”

“Never, baby! That’s what I’m talking about!” Hifler shouted into the phone. “Tell me you’ve got about nine more of the same. Shit, I’ll even take nine more half-assed if you want to know the truth. Anaconda’s back! We’re trending on Twitter and don’t even get me started about YouTube. Every Anaconda music video’s getting millions of views now.”

Jaguar laughed. “That’s amazing.”

“Record sales are up and I’ve got concert promoters calling to find out when we’re gonna be touring. I need you to get your ass back down here. We gotta talk tour dates!”

“Okay. Okay.”

“When can you come?”

“Um, I’ll look into flying down on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday? What?” Hifler’s disbelief was obvious in his voice. “Wednesday? Why not tomorrow?”

Because I have to go for pizza tomorrow, he wanted to say, but he knew Hifler would not appreciate that. He’d scoff some more at him.

“I can’t.”

“Okay, but why Wednesday?”

He could go Monday or catch a redeye tomorrow night. Why not? Pam planned to take Sophia to school on Tuesday. He didn’t need to be there. It’s not like it was a life changing event, but he knew it was. Sophia’s first day of school. He didn’t want to miss it. He’d missed so much in her life – her first word, her first step, her birth. He didn’t want to miss this, especially since her mother couldn’t be there.

“I have things to do between now and Wednesday, but I’ll come down on Wednesday. I promise.”

“We need you here before that.”

Jaguar sighed. “Okay, what if I catch a redeye tomorrow night.”

“That works. You want Maddog and Bruno to meet you.”

“No, I’ll bring my driver.”

“Don’t let me down, Jaguar, you hear me.”

“I won’t. I’ll be there, but I’m leaving Monday night. I’ve got to be back here Tuesday morning.”

“Give me Monday night too and I’ll get you a flight out early Tuesday morning. And bring me anything else you’ve written. The public will gobble up whatever we throw at them right now.”

Jaguar wanted to protest. He couldn’t chance missing Sophia’s first day, but he also had a career to think about and a band that depended on him. He hadn’t been giving them much lately. “Okay,” he said, not bothering to tell him he had no other songs to offer. “Make sure you get me those tickets for Tuesday morning.”

“I promise. See you tomorrow night,” said Hifler and disconnected the call.

Jaguar blew out air and stared at the display. Number one on iTunes. That was huge. He couldn’t believe this had happened, and over a song he hadn’t been sure he should be writing.

Henry cleared his throat behind him.

“Sophia wants you to tuck her in,” said his father, disapproval in his tone.

“Sure,” said Jaguar, moving toward the hallway.

“So you’re going back to LA tomorrow?”

Jaguar hesitated and turned to face him. “Only for a few days. The song hit number one on the charts.”

“That’s great,” said Henry, little enthusiasm in his voice. He clearly didn’t think it was great.

“I’ll be home in time to take Sophia to school on Tuesday morning.”

“He wants you to go on tour?”

“Yeah, he thinks it’s time.”

Henry nodded, then walked over to his recliner and sank into it, reaching for the television remote. Jaguar glanced at the TV, then back to his father. Was Henry angry at him? Why? He knew Jaguar had been waiting for something to happen with Anaconda for a long time now. Henry hadn’t expected him to stay here permanently, had he?

He started to say something, then decided it wasn’t going to do him any good. Henry was usually disappointed with him in some way all of the time. He might as well not worry about it now. Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he headed for Sophia’s room to tuck her in, dismissing Henry from his mind.

CHAPTER 16

Hakim turned into the driveway of the elementary school. Children and parents were making their way inside, the little ones in their new clothes, new shoes, sporting new backpacks. Jaguar searched outside the SUV’s window, looking for Pam and the kids. Pam had promised to wait in front of the school for him, so they could walk into together, but he was late.

His plane had landed in Fresno just three hours ago and Hakim had driven as fast as was safe to Sequoia. Jaguar’s head felt muddy and his eyes burned. He’d had about a half-hour of sleep on the plane from LA and he just wanted coffee and a shower.

“There! There!” he said to Hakim, pointing to the front of the school.

Hakim had gotten caught in a cue of cars trying to drop off their precious bundles right at the door. “I’m trying to get closer,” he said.

Jaguar strained to see Sophia. She was clinging to Pam’s side, her hand curled under her chin, her other arm wrapped around the duckling he’d given her. She looked so little, so lost, wearing Maryjane’s, knee socks, and a plaid skirt. She also wore a white blouse with a navy cardigan over it, her brown hair in a high ponytail. He could see she was afraid.

He threw the door open and started to get out as Hakim tried to pull forward. “Jaguar!” Hakim scolded, but he was already out of the SUV.

“I’ll find you in the parking lot,” he told Hakim, shutting the door, then he bounded up on the curb and wended his way through the parents and kids toward his daughter.

She saw him and pulled out of Pam’s hand, racing to him. He caught her and lifted her as her little arms snaked around his neck. She pressed her cold cheek to his, holding him tight. The weather had taken a turn toward fall and the air was crisp.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she whispered in his ear.

“I promised you I would. I will always be here when I promise,” he told her, closing his eyes and hugging her in return.

Pam and Amanda walked up. “It’s about time,” said Amanda, giving him an arch look. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Manners, Amanda,” scolded Pam, then she smiled at Jaguar. “You look like hell.”

He gave a laugh. “I haven’t slept more than a few hours.”

“How’d it go?”

He shrugged. “We hit some daytime talk shows and met with backers. Then we laid down some dates for the tour.”

“So you’re gonna do it? You’re gonna go back on the road?”

“I think so, Pam. I don’t know what else I’m qualified to do.”

She nodded, her eyes shifting to Sophia.

“We can talk about it later,” he said, lowering Sophia to her feet. Pam didn’t respond, turning toward the school entrance.

Sophia curled her hand in his and they started walking into the school. They first took Amanda to her class, but Amanda was anxious to greet her friends from the previous year, so after kissing her mother, she urged them to leave.

Pam gave Jaguar a bemused smile. “I sort of miss when she needed me.”

Jaguar laughed. “I’m convinced Amanda’s going to be president some day.”

Pam took Sophia’s free hand and they walked her to the kindergarten classroom. Kallista was waiting at the door, a broad smile on her pretty face. She hunkered down in front of Sophia and stroked her hand over the duckling.

“I’m glad you brought a friend. Will you tell us about him at show-n-tell today?”

Sophia nodded, her grip tightening in Jaguar’s hold.

Kallista rose to her feet. “We’ll be dismissing at noon today. Will Sophia be going to after school daycare?” she asked Pam.

Pam shook her head. “I’ll be here to pick her up.” She looked at the little girl. “Let’s go get you set up in your desk.”

They entered the classroom.

Jaguar watched them, feeling a wave of uneasiness.

“She’ll be fine,” said Kallista, putting a hand on his arm.

His gaze shifted to her face and he couldn’t deny the flush of warmth that went through him. “I believe you,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

She laughed. “I promise you.”

He nodded, forcing a smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

Kallista looked into the room. “Neither have most of these parents. You’ll see a lot of tears in the parking lot on your way out.”

Jaguar jutted out his chin. “Not me,” he said, making Kallista laugh. He smiled at her, thinking he liked her calm demeanor. She was different from a lot of the women he’d dated in the past, but he couldn’t deny she drew him in. Still, her brother would definitely not approve of his interest and he was pretty sure it was a social no-no to date your daughter’s teacher. “I’ll just say goodbye.”

“Of course,” she said, turning to greet the next student to arrive.

Jaguar walked over to where Pam and Sophia were arranging her desk and hunkered down next to his daughter. Sophia’s eyes tracked around the room and came back to him.

“I don’t want to stay here,” she said.

“Sophia, you’re going to have a great time,” said a young woman, overhearing them. She couldn’t have been older than her early twenties with blond hair and large brown eyes. She held out her hand to Pam and Jaguar each in turn. “I’m Miss Rose. I’m Miss A’s assistant.”

Pam shook her hand, then stroked Sophia’s hair. “If you need me, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“We’ll be fine. Why don’t you tell your folks goodbye and we’ll go pick out some books for story time.”

Sophia’s blue eyes bore into Jaguar’s and she wrapped her arms around his bicep. “I don’t want you to go.”

He kissed her temple, but Pam gave him a warning look. He wanted to take her out of here. They could try school again next year, but he knew that was wrong. They both needed to do this. He sighed and turned her to face him.

“I have to go, but I’ll be here at noon to meet you with Aunt Pam. You’re going to make so many friends, Sophia, and you’re going to learn so much. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of how brave you’re being and to be honest…” He looked around the room. “…I think you’re going to have a great time. There’s so much to do and see and I wish my kindergarten had been like this.”

She didn’t look convinced, rubbing her cheek on the duckling’s head.

“How about this?” He pulled the leather wristband off his wrist and wound it around hers. “When you feel alone or nervous, you touch this and you’ll know I’m thinking of you.”

She drew a shuddering breath, then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I love you,” she whispered.

He met Pam’s gaze over her shoulder, hugging Sophia in return. Pam offered him a smile and he blinked hard a few times. This little girl’s admission had just about crippled him. He pressed a kiss to her hair and held her off, looking into eyes so like his mother’s.

“I love you, Sophia, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

She stared at him a moment, then she turned and hugged her aunt. With a resigned nod, she accepted Miss Rose’s hand and walked with her over to the bookshelves. Pam rose to her feet and jerked her head toward the door.

“Come on, rockstar. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. This gets easier if you just don’t look back.”

He rose with her and headed for the door, his mind still reeling from his daughter’s confession. In that moment, nothing he’d ever done had felt so right, so pure. Performing before thousands of screaming fans had felt like the pinnacle of his life, but he realized now, it hadn’t meant anything compared to hearing his daughter tell him she loved him.

*    *    *

When he finally arrived home, he wanted nothing more than to take a nap for a few hours before he had to be back at the school to meet Sophia at the end of the day, but as he carried his bag into the house and dropped it in his room, he realized he hadn’t seen his father.

Backtracking into the living room, he found the television cold and the kitchen empty. Motion in the backyard drew his attention and he walked to the door, pulling it open. Henry knelt on the lawn, trying to read a set of instructions, brightly colored plastic sections of something lying scattered about him.

He looked up as Jaguar stopped beside him. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his lower back. “Getting harder and harder to crawl around on my hands and knees now.”

Jaguar surveyed the pieces. “What’s this?”

“I bought Sophia a playhouse. I remember you making a fort in the yard at our other house when you were about her age. You used to play guitar in there.”

Jaguar’s gaze shifted to him. He hadn’t known Henry was even aware he’d made a fort.

“I thought Sophia might like her own place. I was going to give it to her as a present for starting kindergarten.” He looked Jaguar over. “You look like hell.”

“Yeah, I haven’t slept much.”

“Come on,” said Henry, motioning toward the house. “I’ll buy you a cup a coffee.”

Jaguar cast a final glance on the pieces of playhouse scattered over the lawn. “Should I call Tate and see if he can stop by to help us?”

Henry waved him off, climbing the stairs into the house. “I can build a playhouse. It’s like a giant building block set. No problem.”

Jaguar turned and followed him into the kitchen. It sure seemed like a problem from where he was standing. Henry hadn’t even put a single piece together yet. Taking a seat at the table, he watched his father pour them both a cup of coffee.

“How’d it go in LA?” Henry asked, his back to the table.

“Fine.”

“What did you do?”

“We gave interviews on a few daytime talk shows and met over lunch with some financial backers. Then we talked tour dates.”

Henry set the mug in front of him and went to the fridge, opening. “You did all that in a day?”

“Things move fast in LA and hitting number one on the music charts gets things rolling.”

Henry set the milk on the table and went to get some spoons. “How’d it go at Sophia’s school this morning?”

Jaguar reached for the milk and poured a little into his mug. He’d already consumed way too much coffee, but it didn’t look like he was going to get to bed anytime soon. “She was scared, but her teacher and the teacher’s assistant seem really sweet.” Jaguar accepted the spoon from his father and stirred the coffee. “Her teacher’s Hakim’s sister.”

“Really?” said Henry, taking a seat.

Jaguar nodded, sipping at his coffee. “She told me she loved me.”

“The sister? Wow, you really do have a way with women.”

Jaguar and Henry both laughed and Jaguar realized the tension was gone between them. “No, Sophia told me she loved me.”

Henry curled his hands around his mug. Jaguar studied those hands, the large knuckles, the prominent veins, the neatly clipped fingernails. “You have a way with people. Like your mother. You have her charisma.” He lifted the mug and sipped. “Good thing too because you didn’t get anything like that from me.”

Jaguar looked out the window at the pieces of playhouse. He didn’t know how to respond to that.

“You’re going to be a good father, Jerome.”

Jaguar turned back to his father, giving him a bewildered look. “Based on a weekend visit and seeing her off to school? I missed five years of her life. I missed the big things.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Henry, his eyes going distant as he also looked out at the yard. “I missed the big things, but you haven’t. You still have time.”

Jaguar fingered the handle on the spoon, not sure how to respond to his father. They didn’t talk like this. Ever. They made pointless comments or they fought. They didn’t have deep conversations.

“You were right about me,” Henry said. “I wasn’t a good father. I wasn’t available. I wasn’t accessible.”

“Pops…”

“No, please.” Henry held out his hand. “Let me talk, okay?”

Jaguar nodded. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. He’d always wanted Henry to open up to him, but now that he was, Jaguar wasn’t certain they should open this box.

“My dad was a real bastard. I mean, he was a product of the times. He worked, Mom stayed home, and then he went to the Elks Lodge or golfed when he wasn’t working. The only time we’d see him was when he’d come home to eat dinner and sleep. Mom would save up all of our infractions and tell him about them, then he’d take a belt to our asses and send us to our rooms.” Henry met Jaguar’s gaze. “That was my relationship with him. To be honest, I wasn’t much closer to my mother. I resented her for saving up everything until he got home.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I swore I would never lay a hand on you.”

“And you didn’t.”

Henry’s gaze was unwavering. “Yeah, but I substituted the belt for criticism. Sometimes, your mother would tell me I never said anything good to you, but I didn’t know how. And sometimes, I heard myself, going after you like I did and I thought what the hell am I doing. I knew I was gonna make you hate me the way I hated my own father.”

“I don’t hate you, Pops.”

Henry looked down into his coffee. “That’s only a matter of degrees, son.”

Jaguar didn’t respond. Henry was right. There were times when Jaguar couldn’t deny he didn’t like Henry very much. “It just seemed like we were always at cross purposes, you and me. Like I never lived up to your expectations.”

“You didn’t,” said Henry with a laugh.

Jaguar narrowed his eyes on him. “Okay?”

Henry laughed again. “I mean it. You didn’t live up to my expectations, but the truth is my expectations were bull shit. I mean, I still think school could have been more of a priority, but that’s just because I was afraid you were going to wind up driving a forklift like your old man and I didn’t want that, but you found your own way. You are a hell of a lot more successful than I ever was.”

Jaguar smiled.

“I just wanted more for you, but I went about it the wrong way. I thought I could bully you into it and that was never going to work for you. I wish I hadn’t done that.”

Jaguar thought about Henry’s words. He could understand wanting more for a child. He hadn’t been a father for very long, but he sure wanted Sophia to achieve more than he had. “I get wanting more, Pops. I get that now. I want Sophia to have so much more.”

Henry patted Jaguar’s forearm where it lay on the table. “But you do it the right way. You encourage, but you also listen. You talk to her and let her tell you what she wants.”

Jaguar covered Henry’s hand with his own. “I will, Pops. I promise you.”

Henry nodded and released him. “Can I be honest with you about something?”

Jaguar tensed. He wasn’t sure he wanted honesty from Henry. He sure didn’t want to hear anything negative about his mother. “Sure?” he said, the skepticism in his voice.

“I’m not sure I know how to build that playhouse. The directions are in Chinese.”

Jaguar barked out a laugh and Henry joined him.

CHAPTER 17

The Bourbon Brothers Barbecue was an old fashioned barbecue joint owned by two brothers, Dwayne and Daryl Ford. Dwayne’s daughter Tallah worked for Zion at the Caffeinator. As always, the restaurant was crowded with people standing in line to place their orders or occupying the high-backed booths around the periphery of the room.

Muted music was piped in through speakers in the ceiling, competing for attention over the sound of conversation and laughter. The smells made Jaguar’s stomach rumble and he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. He searched the darkened interior for Tate and found him holed up in a booth, nursing a glass of soda.

He crossed the restaurant and took a seat opposite his friend.

“Hey,” said Tate with a jerk of his chin.

“Hey, what’s your position on playhouses?”

Tate gave him a bewildered look. “I wasn’t aware I had to have an official position, but I guess I’ll say I’m pro-playhouses as a general rule.”

Jaguar laughed and looked up as Dwayne’s pretty wife, Cheryl, stopped by the table. He half-rose and hugged her.

“What’ll you have to drink, baby?” she said.

“Just water, Cheryl, please.”

“You know what you want to order?”

He looked at Tate.

“I’m already taken care of. I don’t even have to place an order anymore.”

Cheryl twisted her lips to the side. “Mmmhmm. I just put in an order for a heart transplant and Dwayne knows Tate’s here.”

Jaguar laughed. “If it’s good enough for Tate, I guess I’ll take the same thing.”

“Pulled pork sandwich, coleslaw, and extra sauce. I have a gluten-free bun in your honor.”

Jaguar’s stomach grumbled and he nodded. “Sounds amazing. You know me too well.”

She shook her head fondly and walked away.

Jaguar turned back to his friend. “Pops bought Sophia a playhouse on the internet, but when it arrived it was in pieces and the directions are in Chinese.”

“Hard to follow, huh?”

“No, I mean real Chinese.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, that would be a problem. I can come out tomorrow afternoon and take a look if you want.”

“I really appreciate it. Lunch is on me today.”

“I’m not gonna turn that down,” said Tate, holding out his empty hands. “I already owe Dwayne the pink slip on my car.”

Jaguar frowned.

“Because I eat here so much.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”

Tate leaned back in the booth. “What’s going on?”

“Just stuff, you know? Life and shit.”

“Spill.” He picked up his drink and took a sip.

Jaguar grabbed the pepper shaker and twirled it in his hands. “My manager wants me to come back to LA tomorrow to talk about the tour.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

He glanced up as Cheryl set a glass of water in front of him. “Thank you,” he told her.

“No problem, baby,” she said and hurried off to wait on another table. Jaguar felt a little disappointed. He wouldn’t mind having her opinion. She and Dwayne had raised Tallah to be a straight-A student, who was also centered and conscientious and an all-around great kid. He admired their parenting style.

“I guess it’s a good thing. I mean, yeah, it’s a good thing. Shadow Eyes is number one on the music charts, but Sophia just started school and Pam’s going to be starting classes next week. I promised her I’d help out with the afternoon pickups. I mean, I’m the one who suggested she go back to school. If I go on tour, what’s she gonna do?”

“Can your dad help her?”

“He said he would, but that means I miss out on Sophia’s first year in school. I miss out on time with her in the afternoon.”

“So don’t go on tour.”

Jaguar set the shaker aside. “And do what? Being a musician’s all I know how to do. What exactly do you think I’m qualified for?”

Tate held up a hand. “There must be something.”

Jaguar shook his head. “I barely graduated high school. The thought of going to college makes me have heart burn.”

Tate laughed.

“I can’t pull espresso shots for the rest of my life and if I don’t find something, my father and I will likely kill each other.” He sighed. “I want to show Sophia that I’m something other than an absentee father.”

Tate considered, chewing on his inner lip. “That is a pickle,” he said.

“What’s a pickle? You want pickles on your sandwich?” asked Cheryl, setting two baskets down in front of them.

“No, we’re trying to figure out what Jaguar can do with the rest of his life,” said Tate.

“Instead of touring around the country,” added Jaguar.

Cheryl put her hand on her hip. “That’s easy.”

“It is?” asked Jaguar, his brows lifting.

“Open a music store.”

“What?”

“What do we need in this town? We got almost everything, but we don’t have a music store.”

Jaguar thought about it, but Tate leaned forward nodding. “It’s brilliant. You can sell musical instruments and give lessons in the back.”

“What do I know about running a business?” he asked them.

“Same thing as the rest of us. You learn,” said Cheryl.

“And we’ll help you. We’ve all done it before,” said Tate.

Jaguar felt a wave of excitement rush through him, but Hifler wanted to do a tour while Anaconda was at the top of the charts. If he quit now to open a music store, he’d be letting his bandmates down. They were all on board. He was the only hold-out remaining.

“Where would I open a store?” he said. He hadn’t felt this exhilarated in a long time, this entranced by the possibilities before him.

“There’s an empty storefront between my hardware store and the Cut & Print,” said Tate. “It’s been sitting empty for years.”

“He’s right, and I think it has some back rooms you could use for lessons,” added Cheryl.

A store next to Jim Dawson would be a boon. He knew Dawson would help him set up the business.

“You could call it All That Jazz,” said Tate.

“The Disk-cotec,” said Cheryl.

Jaguar laughed, then a thought popped into his head as if it had been there all along. “Fret No More,” he said.

“Bingo,” answered Tate, punctuating with a jab of his index finger. “Perfect.”

Cheryl smiled at him. “I’ll get you the name of the relator for the building.”

Jaguar felt a wash of panic, followed by a sense of elation. He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “You think I could do this?”

“I know you can. And we’ll all be there, supporting you,” Tate said.

Jaguar leaned back, his mind whirling. Could he really open his own business? Teach music lessons? Be the captain of his own destiny?

He had the capital for it, he’d been so careful with his investments. He knew music, and Tate was right. He had support. Pops might even be willing to work in the store. It would get him out of the house and let Jaguar have the freedom to spend time with Sophia. Not to mention, it was a way for him to stay in Sequoia, a way to get off the rollercoaster of touring and waiting breathlessly to see if the public liked their latest record.

He gave Tate a wild-eyed look. “This is insane, you know that?”

Tate shrugged. “You’re the multi-platinum rockstar, buddy. Seems like insane’s your middle name.” When Jaguar frowned at him, he added, “Because you’ve already beat the odds. You know? Rockstar?”

Jaguar nodded in a patronizing way and they both burst into laughter.

*    *    *

As he climbed behind the wheel of his father’s car, he stared out at the street, studying the empty building between Tate’s Hammer Tyme and the Cut & Print. He tried to imagine it with a marquee over the door, instruments in the display windows, people wandering down the sidewalk and stopping inside. A wave of panic followed by a wash of excitement swamped him. He wondered how a person could feel two conflicting emotions like this.

He pulled out onto the street, headed for home. Hakim had the day off and his father had said he could use the car as long as he stopped at the grocery store for a few things. He turned to get on the freeway and his phone rang. Pressing the button on the steering wheel, he connected the call, glancing at the car’s display to see who it was.

Pam.

“Hey, Pam, I’m…”

“Jaguar, listen to me.”

He stopped speaking, hearing the panic in her voice.

“Sophia isn’t at the school. They went out for recess after lunch and she asked to go to the bathroom. Miss Rose says she never came back.”

“What?” White noise suddenly filled Jaguar’s head and he tried to process what she was saying. “What do you mean Sophia isn’t at the school?” The tires on the right side of the car made a squealing noise and he yanked the steering wheel back to correct it. He hadn’t even realized he was drifting.

“Where are you?” Pam’s voice trembled.

“I’m coming back from Main Street. I’ll be at the school in a few minutes.”

“Hurry!” she said and disconnected the call.

Jaguar drove as fast as he dared to the school, his mind a whirlwind of panic and attempts at reason. He didn’t bother to park in the parking lot, but pulled into the driveway and threw the car into gear, jumping out. Sam Murphy met him at the entrance, holding up her hands to stop him.

“Now calm down!” she said.

He walked past her, ignoring her comment and turned the corner, nearly running to the kindergarten class. Kallista and a sobbing Miss Rose stood outside the classroom with the principal. He hadn’t met her yet, but he’d seen her in passing. Standing with them was Sheriff Wilson. As soon as she saw him, Pam ran to him, her hands clasped before her. She held Sophia’s cardigan.

“We’ve searched everywhere,” she said, bursting into tears.

Jaguar looked beyond her to Kallista. “How did this happen?”

“It’s not her fault,” sobbed Miss Rose. “I was watching the class while she was at lunch.”

“We issued an Amber Alert,” said Sheriff Wilson. “My deputies are scouring the streets.”

Jaguar’s head just wasn’t processing this. “Hold on. How can she be missing?”

The principal approached him. “I’m Velma Martin, Mr. Jaguar. I’m the principal here.”

“Where’s my daughter?”

“This is what we know. Miss Rose read the children a story, then they went outside for recess. Miss Adowani takes her lunch at 11:30 and returns at noon to see the children off for the day.”

Jaguar nodded, trying to get his head around why any of this was important. Where the hell was his daughter?

“Sophia asked to go to the restroom. The restroom’s visible from the playground and Miss Rose saw her go inside.”

“I watched her the whole way,” sobbed Miss Rose.

“When she didn’t come out at an appropriate time, Miss Rose went to look for her.”

“She was gone!” said Miss Rose.

“She was gone,” repeated the principal.

“Where? How did she disappear from the bathroom?”

Kallista started to speak, but the principal held up a hand, stopping her. “We aren’t sure. Miss Rose was distracted by a child who fell and hurt her knee. We think Sophia left at that time.”

“Left? What are you suggesting?” Jaguar took a step forward, his fists clenching.

Sheriff Wilson laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Now, just calm down a minute, son.”

“Calm down! Where the hell is my daughter!”

“We don’t know,” said Wilson.

“Jaguar,” interrupted Kallista, ignoring the quelling look the principal shot at her. “You need to know the book Miss Rose read before she disappeared.”

Jaguar’s attention zeroed in on her. “What book?”

“It’s about a baby bird who’s been abandoned and is searching for his mother.”

Pam whirled, her red, swollen eyes widening. “What?”

“I didn’t think about it,” sobbed Miss Rose. “It’s a sweet book. I didn’t think about it.”

Jaguar stepped closer to the aide. “Did Sophia seem upset by the book?”

“She didn’t say anything. No different than usual. She’s been quiet all week.”

“Is there anywhere she might go if she felt upset? Anywhere she thinks is a safe haven?” asked Kallista.

Jaguar’s thoughts fell into focus. He turned to Pam. “The fort. I told her I went to the fort I’d built when I wanted to think about things, when I wanted to be alone. I’ll bet she went home.”

“Let’s go!” said Pam, turning toward the entrance.

“No!” Jaguar stopped her. “Let me go. You stay here in case she comes back.”

Pam looked like she might argue with him, but Wilson motioned to Sam Murphy. “Deputy Murphy will escort you to the house. Pam, you wait with me. I want to see the surveillance tape outside the school again, Mrs. Martin,” he told the principal. “We might have missed something.”

The principal nodded and motioned toward her office, while Jaguar and Sam started for her patrol car. Pam reached out and caught his arm.

“Please call me if she’s there,” she said, her fingers tightening on him.

“I will,” he said, then followed Murphy out of the school.

*    *    *

Jaguar never remembered being so afraid. The few blocks it took to drive to Pam’s house seemed like miles and his heart pounded the entire time. He didn’t have a key for the house and he knew Sophia didn’t either, so he jumped out of the patrol car as soon as Sam stopped and went around to the side of the house.

He closed his eyes when he saw the gate was slightly ajar and braced a hand against the house. He felt dizzy with relief. Pushing the gate open, he could see Sophia’s ponytail through the window of the fort. He looked back at Sam.

“She’s here.”

“I’ll call the sheriff,” she told him, blowing out air.

He waited until she walked back toward the patrol car, then he pushed the gate all the way open and stepped inside. He climbed the short ladder and peered into the opening of the fort. Sophia’s head snapped up. She was sitting on the floor of the fort, holding her duckling in her lap. She looked small and lost and alone.

He climbed in beside her and sat, his back pressed against the wall. “You scared me, little girl,” he said, trying to keep the scold out of his voice. “You scared your aunt and Miss A. Poor Miss Rose is in tears and the sheriff’s at the school.” The relief he felt was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

She blinked up at him with her big blue eyes. “The sheriff? Is he going to arrest me?”

Jaguar let out a shivery laugh, then lifted her onto his lap and hugged her. “No, but this can’t ever happen again, Sophia. You can’t leave school by yourself. It could be dangerous.”

She nodded, holding the duckling closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make people cry.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’ve never been so scared, Sophia,” he said. “I couldn’t stand the thought that I might have lost you. You have to promise never to do anything like that again.”

“I promise,” she said, snuggling into him.

He held her for a moment, just allowing himself to accept that she was safe. His heart gradually returned to normal. “Can you tell me why you left?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes averted.

He leaned over to look in her face. “I need you to tell me what happened. I thought you liked school. I thought you liked Miss A and Miss Rose.”

“I do. And I like Dharia.” Dharia was the little girl she’d met at the Open House. Kallista said they’d become fast friends in the first few days.

“Then why did you leave?”

“Miss Rose read a story.”

“About a baby bird looking for his mother?”

Sophia nodded. “It made me sad.”

Jaguar sighed, tightening his hold on her. “I know, baby. I know you miss your mama.”

“Why’d she have to go?”

Jaguar thought about that. How did you explain death to a five-year-old? How did you keep her from being afraid? He decided truth was all he had. “I don’t know, Sophia. I wish I did. I’d give anything if I could bring your mama back to you.”

She didn’t respond.

“But this is what I do know.”

She leaned back and looked at him.

“She would want you to go to school. She’d want you to learn your alphabet and be friends with Dharia. And she’d want you to have fun at recess. And most of all, she wouldn’t want you to ever run away from what you’re feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to miss her. It’s even okay to cry sometimes.”

Her eyes searched his face.

“But it’s also okay to be happy and this I know, pretty soon you’ll have more happy times than you’ll have sad one.”

“I don’t want to forget her.”

Jaguar smiled, touching her nose. “You can’t. You will never forget her, but after awhile, it won’t hurt so bad to remember.”

It won’t hurt so bad to remember.

He could almost hear his own mother saying those words as he sat in the fort and held his daughter. It won’t hurt so bad to remember, and it didn’t, he realized.

*    *    *

Jaguar walked out of the girls’ room after tucking them in for the night and found Pam sitting in the kitchen, a bottle of wine and a full glass before her. She picked up the bottle, her chin braced on her other hand. “Want some?”

He smiled at her and shook his head, coming forward to take a seat at the table. “I’m good.”

Pam set the bottle down and took a long drink from the glass, then she sat, staring at the liquid inside.

“What’s up?” he asked her.

She ran her tongue across her upper teeth. “I’m sitting here feeling so guilty for what I said to you about Sophia. When I said I’d put her in foster care. You know I didn’t mean that, right?”

“We’ve talked about this before, Pam. I know.”

“I can’t fight you for custody, Jaguar. I don’t have the money.”

“You aren’t going to fight me. I’m not taking you to court.”

Pam’s eyes grew liquid and she sniffed, brushing the back of her hand under her nose. “I have never been so scared as I was today. I love that little girl like she was my own.”

“I know you do.”

She studied him a moment. “I’m glad you were here. I’m glad I could call you.”

“I’m glad you could too.”

“You think we can do this together.”

“What?”

“Be a family. We’re a really weird sort of family. I mean, we give name to dysfunction. My sister tried to…”

He held up his hand. “Let’s not go there, okay? I think we’re not any weirder or any more dysfunctional than any other family in America. Being unconventional is sort of an American thing.”

She laughed.

“We’ll work it out. I promise you,” he said, reaching across and taking her hand. “I want to be here for you. Not just with Sophia, but the other kids as well. We’ll get them raised. I mean, it might take the whole damn community, but we’ll get them raised.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “You’re a good guy, Jerome Jarvis, you know that?”

He shrugged, but he wasn’t going to lie. It was good to hear.

CHAPTER 18

The day after Sophia ran home, Jaguar agreed to take the kids to school. As soon as Hakim pulled up in front, the boys hopped out, racing for the entrance. Jaguar climbed out of the passenger’s seat and unbuckled Amanda and Sophia from their booster seats.

Amanda hopped down onto the sidewalk and looked up at him. “Do I have to wait or can I go to class? I’ve got recess right now.”

“You’ll wait,” he said, giving her a firm look.

She stuck her tongue out at him, so he stuck his out at her. She burst into giggles, drawing a giggle from Sophia. Jaguar smiled and lifted Sophia out of the car. “I’ll be right back,” he told Hakim.

“Tell my sister hi for me,” said Hakim.

“Sure,” answered Jaguar, shutting the door, then he held his hands out to both girls. Amanda skipped along beside him as they walked toward the school.

Mrs. Martin, the principal, was standing at the entrance and she ducked her head in greeting. “Mr. Jaguar,” she said.

“Mrs. Martin,” he answered, not bothering to correct her. He could be Mr. Jaguar if it made people happy. Sophia glanced up at him and he shrugged.

They took Amanda to her class. Before she left, she turned suddenly and hugged him, then she was off. Jaguar stood stunned for a moment, moved by the precocious child’s gesture, then he and Sophia wandered toward her classroom.

Kallista stood in the doorway as they approached. Jaguar nudged Sophia toward her. The little girl stopped before the teacher, her small hands wringing the leg on her duckling as Kallista hunkered down in front of her.

“I’m glad you’re back, Sophia. We’re going to have a lot of fun today.”

Sophia shuffled her feet, refusing to look at her. Jaguar nudged her in the back again and finally Sophia looked up at her teacher. “I’m sorry I ran away,” she said.

Kallista reached out and hugged the little girl. “Thank you for saying that, Sophia. I know it won’t happen again.” She released her and shifted a little, pointing inside the classroom. “I know someone else who’d like to hear that.”

“Miss Rose?” asked Sophia.

“Miss Rose,” said Kallista.

Sophia turned first to her father and held up her arms. He hugged her, kissing her cheek. “I’m proud of you, little girl,” he said.

“See you at noon,” she whispered in his ear.

“See you at noon,” he answered her, releasing her.

She walked into the classroom, clutching her duckling like she was going to her own execution, but at Miss Rose’s enthusiastic greeting, she picked up her pace.

Kallista rose to her feet to face him, giving him a smile.

He smiled in return. “Thank you for everything yesterday.”

She shrugged off his comment. “I’m sorry it happened. I should have been paying more attention.”

“It definitely wasn’t your fault,” he answered, then heavy silence fell between them as he studied her pretty face and her calm demeanor. Yesterday that calm had been what stopped them from jumping to crazy conclusions and he appreciated it. “Oh, Hakim said to tell you hi.”

“Thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, her black hair shimmering in the sunlight.

He shifted weight, feeling self-conscious and uncertain. It was a strange feeling for him. He’d always been so self-assured, but then he’d been half-baked for a lot of his adult years. “So, I was wondering…” he began.

She looked up, her dark eyes deep and open, accepting. He could lose himself in those eyes.

“I was wondering what you’re doing in June.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “June? It’s September, Jaguar.”

“Right.” He rubbed his forearm with his free hand. “I want to ask you to dinner, but I figure I should probably wait until you’re no longer Sophia’s teacher.”

She laughed, then took her phone out of her slacks and pretended to scroll through the calendar. “I don’t know. My Junes fill up so fast.”

“Really?”

She giggled. “I think I’m free.”

“Then can I take you to dinner in June?”

“Yes,” she said, a little breathlessly. “But you’re going to have to ask my brother’s permission.”

His eyes widened and he felt a drop in the pit of his stomach. Was she serious?

She burst into laughter, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m kidding. Don’t look so scared.”

He blew out air. “Um, well, I’m not sure how he’s going to react when I tell him.”

She shrugged. “You’ve got a few months to figure it out.” The bell rang for class and she motioned over her shoulder. “I gotta go.”

“Right,” he said, watching her step inside. As she shut the door on him, giving him a final sultry smile, he realized this was the first time he’d actually asked a woman on a real date. He frowned and turned, headed back toward the car. Curious.

Maybe he was growing up after all.

*    *    *

Saturday arrived and Jaguar knew fall was coming to Sequoia. The trees hadn’t started to change colors, but there was a crispness in the air. He felt a little excited for a different season. He’d always liked fall in the mountains, waiting for that first snow.

Pam had dropped Sophia off for his weekend overnight. Amanda had gone through the house, telling him he needed to work on making them breakfast when they came over and asking him when she’d be able to spend the night with Sophia. He found himself echoing Pam when she said, “Manners, Amanda.”

After Pam and Amanda had left, Jaguar and Henry showed Sophia her new playhouse. They’d deliberately kept it away from Amanda because they wanted it to be Sophia’s alone, but if Sophia decided to show her cousin next weekend, Jaguar wasn’t going to complain.

After lunch, Henry suggested they take the stale bread and go to the lake to feed the ducks. Bundled in a fluffy pink hoodie, she took both of their hands and skipped down the street as they headed for the lake. Jaguar exchanged a look with his father.

Neither one of them had ever seen Sophia skip before and she was humming a song, something she’d learned in her kindergarten classroom. Pride rushed through Jaguar, surprising him that something so small, so insignificant could seem so very important. He wanted to swing her into his arms and kiss her, but he contented himself with walking alongside her, humming the song under his breath too. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand tighter.

He took a seat on the bench, while Henry pulled out the bread, then watched as his father and his daughter moved toward the water. The ducks spotted them and began swimming in their direction, quacking. Sophia laughed, making both Henry and Jaguar smile. The pure sound of her laugh was better than music to Jaguar.

His phone rang as they began tossing bread to the greedy ducks. Jaguar pulled it out of his pocket and thumbed it on, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“If it isn’t the tree hugger,” came Hifler’s voice.

Jaguar wished he’d looked at the display, but it was too late now. He shoved himself to his feet and walked a few steps away, turning his back so his conversation couldn’t be overheard. “Hello, Desmond.”

“No use building the anticipation,” said the manager. “Shadow Eyes has gone platinum.”

Jaguar felt the old thrill of excitement at Hifler’s words. “Really? This soon?”

“You betcha, baby. I cannot tell you how important it is for us to go on tour. Already, there’s Grammy buzz, Jaguar. Grammy! We haven’t gotten one of those yet. This is the stuff that puts bands in the rock-n-roll Hall of Fame. You’re gonna have so much money, you can buy yourself a little tourist trap town.”

Jaguar laughed. A Grammy? He couldn’t believe that. He’d had more success than he’d ever imagined, but a Grammy would solidify his legacy. No one would be able to deny his talent now. He realized Hifler was still talking, rattling off dates and cities and concert venues. He was talking stadiums again, in some of the biggest urban locations around the country – places that sat almost twenty to thirty thousand people at a time. Jaguar couldn’t get his head around it.

He turned and his gaze fell on his father and daughter. Sophia held out a crust of bread to a duck, Henry’s hand curled around hers. The duck was extending its neck, prepared to take the bread out of her hand.

“We’ll finish up the tour in February, right around the Grammys, generating the most buzz for a win.”

February? Six months on tour?

The duck snatched the bread from Sophia, gobbling it down, and Sophia let out a squeal of delight, clapping her hands. Henry laughed with her and hugged her, then he looked over at Jaguar. Jaguar found himself smiling as he watched them.

Six month of tour? Riding in airplanes, tour buses, a different hotel every night.

Henry’s smile dried, but Jaguar’s grew broader.

“Actually, Desmond,” he said, starting to walk back to his family. “I’m good. I’ve got everything I need right here.”

EPILOGUE

Snow still blanketed the front yard, but patches of it were beginning to thin, showing grass beneath, and a large chunk had fallen off the roof of the playhouse in the backyard. An enormous flat screen television hung from the wall opposite the couch and people crowded for places on the couch and the kitchen chairs that had been arranged around the living room.

Henry sat in his recliner, Amanda curled up on his lap. Jasper and Evan sprawled on the pillows littering the floor, a bowl of popcorn between them. Zion and Tate came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with champagne glasses arranged on it and began passing it around the room. Kallista got up and helped distribute the glasses, while her brother lounged on the couch, shouting directions at her, until Pam slapped him on the shoulder, telling him to stop being bossy. Jim and Minnie Dawson followed the champagne tray, carrying a large cake, plates, and forks which they set up on the coffee table. A circle of chocolate made to look like an old-fashioned vinyl record sat in the middle of the cake with the words Shadow Eyes in blue frosting etched onto it.

Jaguar stood in the entrance of the hallway and watched it all. He took in the noise and commotion and energy. Here were all the people who he cared about most in the world, the people who made his life more full than it had been when he was a rockstar touring the country.

Kallista brought him a glass of champagne and offered it to him.

He took it, smiling at her. “Your brother gave us permission to go to dinner in June,” he told her.

Her eyes widened. “You told him?”

He laughed. “I didn’t have much choice. He was going to set you up with the banker who gave me the loan for the music store.”

She shook her head and slipped into his side. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. Okay, so they hadn’t exactly waited until Sophia was no longer in her class, but they were trying to keep things on the down-low. Only close family and friends knew.

Sophia stopped in front of them. She wore a fancy satin dress in blue with her hair curled around her face and a white bow at the nape of her neck. The dress had petticoats under it, so it swished when she walked. She’d picked it out for the Grammy party, telling him she wanted to look like she was walking down the red carpet with him.

She took his hand. “Come on, Daddy,” she said, tugging him toward the others.

He let her lead him into the room and he took a seat in the other recliner his mother had always sat in. He could just see the picture of her hanging in the dining room – the one with the blue butterfly.

Zion patted his shoulder and moved back beside Tate, so she could see the television. Jaguar gave her a fond smile.

“Here it is!” shouted Jasper, waving everyone to silence.

Kallista leaned against him, resting her hand on his shoulder as Sophia climbed onto his lap. His father gave him a nod and Minnie Dawson clasped her hands in prayer. “Come on, come on,” she whispered.

Turning his attention to the television, Jaguar focused on the gorgeous singer with the long blond hair standing next to the handsome dark-skinned man in the perfectly tailored suit amid the lights and the spectacle of the Grammy stage, and he felt his heart beat a little faster. His bandmates were all there, somewhere in the audience, waiting to hear the results.

After it was over, they would go to after parties and rub elbows with the beautiful people. They would drink champagne and shake hands and take pictures. And he would tuck a five-year-old into bed with her battered yellow duckling.

Curling his hand around Kallista’s, he gave her a wink, then he glanced over at Pam. She lifted her champagne glass and he lifted his.

This is where he wanted to be. This is where he belonged. This was home.

The gorgeous singer leaned into the microphone and everyone in the Jarvis household held their breath, everyone except Jaguar. After all, what more did he need in his life.

“And the Grammy for Song of the Year goes to…”

The End

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The Complete Peyton Brooks’ Mysteries Collection:

Murder in the Painted Lady, Volume 0

Murder on Potrero Hill Volume 1

Murder in the Tenderloin Volume 2

Murder on Russian Hill Volume 3

Murder on Alcatraz Volume 4

Murder in Chinatown Volume 5

Murder in the Presidio Volume 6

Murder on Treasure Island Volume 7

Peyton Brooks FBI Collection:

Zombies in the Delta Volume 1

Mermaids in the Pacific Volume 2

Werewolves in London Volume 3

Vampires in Hollywood Volume 4

Mayan Gods in the Yucatan Volume 5

Zion Sawyer Cozy Mystery Collection:

Cappuccino Volume 1

Café Au Lai Volume 2

The Avery Nolan Adventure  Collection:

Swift as a Shadow Volume 1

Short as Any Dream Volume 2

Brief as Lightning Volume 3

Momentary as a Sound Volume 4

The Complete World of Samar Collection:

The Talisman of Eldon Emerald Volume 1

The Heirs of Eldon Volume 2

The Star of Eldon Volume 3

The Spirit of Eldon Volume 4

The Sanctuary of Eldon Volume 5

The Scions of Eldon Volume 6

The Watchers of Eldon Volume 7

The Followers of Eldon Volume 8

The Apostles of Eldon Volume 9

The Renegade of Eldon Volume 10

Stand Alone Novels:

Ravensong

Serenity

Jaguar

Ready for the next Peyton Brooks, FBI?

Coming soon.

For the past few months, Peyton has fought to become an integral part of the Ghost Squad. Their cases have taken them on adventures around the world, but nothing can prepare them for the most ironic case of their careers – solving a murder in the historic ghost town of Bodie.

With Marco embroiled in his own battle with the Chechen mob, Peyton finds her attention divided between the situation at home and a suspect that’s as ethereal as a ghost. Unfortunately, Radar is dead in the crosshairs and Peyton may be the only one who can save him.

As the Ghost Squad ventures into the Wild West, Peyton begins to question whether there really are haunts in Bodie.