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This cynicism upset her so much that she eloped and stayed away from the family ever since. I sent her a wedding present and told her if she ever needed anything from one black sheep to another that I would always be there for her. For the next several years, I would get birthday cards and Christmas cards and the occasional text or phone call. She told me I was the first family member she had told about their baby. Wolfgang was his name. It was kind of a hard name to forget. I had never met the little guy, but she would send pictures, and they looked like a happy little family. I was happy for her and glad to help her in any way I could.
In fact, a couple of years earlier, she had called asking for a reference for a good American attorney. Naturally, I had referred her to Brian. I didn't blame her for wanting to go through the attorneys my family used. The Hamptons might look luxurious and relaxing to those on the outside, but my family had turned their little corner of paradise into a veritable viper's pit.
A knock sounded at my door. Pizza was here.
I tossed the Christmas card on top of my mail stack and let my stomach lead me to the door. I'd have to remember to give old Ronnie a call here soon and see how she and the kid were doing. Maybe I'd even get to meet him someday.
***
My phone blared, jolting me awake. I looked over at my clock: 4 AM. Who the duck called at 4 AM? It wasn't unheard of to get calls at all hours of the night as a doctor, but since I ran my whole clinic, it didn't happen as much as it would if I worked in an actual hospital.
I looked at my phone, and it was a funky looking number, definitely not a New York area code. I hit the decline button and rolled over. Just as I was drifting off again, the shrill ring sounded.
"That's what you get, dumb ass, for not turning off your ringer," I told myself. This person was not going to take the hint, so I angrily swiped the phone open and answered, "Who the hell is it, and do you have any idea what time it is?"
A voice came over the line in bits and pieces. The connection was terrible, and whoever was talking didn't sound like they were speaking English, or they just weren't used to speaking it.
"Mr. and Mrs. Townsend… automobile crash… sole survivor…" I jerked to a sitting position in bed.
"Hello? Hello, is this some sort of joke? What's going on? Is there somebody close by who can tell me more clearly what's happening?" I asked, my heart racing. "Hello, hello?"
The line went dead. I tried calling the number back, but to no avail. Needless to say, I didn't go back to sleep. I tried that number again and again, walking the floors of my apartment and trying not to look at that damn Christmas card I tossed down the evening before.
"Hey, God, it's me, I know you and I don't have regularly scheduled programming with one another, but I could really use your help with this one," I prayed aloud. I prayed for Ronnie, the man who had made her so happy, and the sweet, little boy in that picture.
Chapter three
Reagan
My vacation really needed to be several weeks longer. I had too much fun hanging out with my dad, Amy, and my grandma. But who was I kidding? I really just wanted to go back and see Layla. That kid was only four years old, and she already had more personality than most of the adults I worked with put together.
I never thought I would want a sibling growing up, and it was probably better I didn't have one. I was too much of a hard ass. Not that I wasn't now, but I could temper that around sweet, little Layla. And I could spoil her and be gone before my dad or Amy yelled at me. That was my favorite thing to do, quite frankly.
I thought that I was ready to come back to work until I walked into my office and saw the stack of folders waiting for me. "Shit, can't even ease back into it, go figure," I murmured quietly to myself.
For the next several hours, I acquainted myself with my cases. I was halfway through the day when my assistant, Cheri, popped her head through the door. "Rea, I just got confirmation from the DHS worker about that child's flight, he should be here tomorrow," she told me as if I knew what the hell she was talking about.
"You want to fill me in? I just got back. I'm still trying to catch up here," I told her, feeling bad that I had no clue what she was talking about.
"It's the Townsend case," she said, pointing to my slightly smaller stack of folders from what I started with that morning. I flipped through the names until I got to the Ts, and my heart fell as I read the particulars of the case. "Oh, no, that poor child."
"Tell me about it," Cheri agreed. "He's going to be here tomorrow, and he doesn't have a soul."
I flipped through the papers in the folder, trying to acquaint myself with the details as quickly as possible. "Not even the person he's been given custody to? I'm assuming that the parents did choose somebody," I said, reading quickly down the file. "Wait a minute, this can't be right," I said as I took in the words before me.
"According to the file, his mother wanted him to go to her cousin…" Cheri said, looking down at her notes. "A Dr. Adam Rollins?"
Tears burned the back of my eyes. I had tried long and hard not to remember that night with Adam. Hell, part of the reason I had taken a vacation out to California to see my family was to get him out of my head. In a strange turn of events, it was taking longer to get over that one night with him than the whole relationship I'd had with Brian.
My heart broke for him. Obviously, the cousin thought quite a bit of him if she left her child to him, but leaving a child with Adam was unimaginable to me. The self-proclaimed grump caring for a six-year-old boy?
The kid had already been through enough losing both of his parents to a car crash, and now, he was going to get Adam as his new guardian? "Holy shit," I breathed to myself.
"Reagan? What's wrong?" Cheri asked, concerned.
"I know his guardian all too well. This poor kid," I said.
"Is the guardian that bad? Do we need to get DHS involved with him, too?"
