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Clark sat in the back of Brews and Chews on Monday night, peeling the label off his beer bottle. The normally rustic bar ceiling sparkled with tiny white Christmas lights, the same lights interwoven into the green garland secured around the front of the counter. The moose head on the far side of the room had Christmas wreaths looped over its antlers, and above every doorway, including the one to the bathroom, were sprigs of green mistletoe.
It had taken him three days to call Patrice and when he had, she wouldn’t tell him what she wanted over the phone. He’d agreed to give her an hour of his time and nothing more. It was more than he got when she left. He’d tracked her down three years ago, dipping into his savings to hire a private investigator and a lawyer to draw up the paperwork to give up her parental rights. When she’d told his lawyer she would sign for a price, he’d done it, nearly depleting his retirement. He’d have sold his kidney to get the money if it meant keeping Jace’s heart safe from her manipulations.
Clark noticed Nick and his friends sitting across the bar, chatting with ease, and he winced, wishing Merry was with him tonight. He knew she would have offered if he’d asked, but he wasn’t sure Patrice would tell him the truth about what she wanted if he brought Merry with him. Merry hadn’t pushed him to call or made a big deal about it.
In the short time they’d been together, Merry understood that he needed to contact Patrice in his own time. She’d become more than the woman he was dating. Merry was the person he wanted to talk to at the end of a frustrating day. The voice telling him it would be all right. He missed her Christmas cookie scent while he was working. He wanted to hear her laugh every day of his life or watch her play video games with Jace, screaming at the TV when she got killed and tickling Jace when he told her he’d done it. She’d become more than a lover. A friend. His best friend.
Patrice walked into the bar wearing a long trench coat and wide-legged jeans, her once dirty-blond hair a dark copper. It didn’t take her long to spot him, but she took her time coming over. She went to the bar first, chatting up Ricki while she waited for her beer, and Clark’s fist clenched around his own glass bottle. What game was she playing?
When she finally slid into the chair across from him, Clark glanced at his phone. “You’ve wasted fourteen minutes of your hour.”
“I was just getting a drink. I noticed you already had one and thought I would join you.” She took a pull from her bottle and set it down, her blue-eyed gaze taking him in. “It’s good to see you, Clark. You look well.”
“Thanks, Patrice. You look like you’re healthy. Now, what do you want?”
“Help.”
That took him by surprise. “You want my help? With what?”
She straightened her shoulders, her tone defensive. “I don’t know if that PI you sent to find me told you anything, but I’ve…made a mess of my life. I didn’t mean to, but I got involved with some bad people and I need a fresh start.”
“Here?” he asked incredulously.
“No, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“After everything you have done, that’s where you draw the line?”
She sat forward and hissed, “I know you hate me for leaving, but I couldn’t stay. We weren’t right for each other, Clark, and you know it. We carry our baggage around like battle shields and all we did was clash. When I found out I was having a boy, I just…I knew.”
“You knew what? That you were going to leave me alone with a newborn with no fucking clue what I was going to do?”
“Looks like you did all right for yourself. Cushy job. Cute girlfriend. She seems sweet.”
“I’ve worked my ass off to take care of my son.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t. But you’re in a better position than me.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit, Patrice, and tell me what you want.”
She pulled a folded envelope from her bag. “I have a letter for Jace I want you to give him.”
“What’s in it?”
“Excuses, mostly. A few regrets.” She held it out to him and he took it.
“That’s it? Just the letter? That’s the help you need?”
“No. There’s one more thing.” She pointed. “If you flip it over, you’ll see an amount. That’s what I need. It will get me far enough away for a fresh start.”
Clark leaned back against the back of the seat, staring down at the numbers for several ticks. Finally, he dropped it onto the table and collected his thoughts. “Three years ago, you told my lawyer you wanted five grand and if I gave you that, you’d sign over your rights. Our business is done. Why would I give you another cent?”
Patrice shrugged. “I’m still the mother of your son. Has he ever asked about me?”
“Once or twice.”
“If I don’t get out now, I’ll be dead,” she whispered, the edge of desperation attached to every word. “What are you going to tell him, when he finds out you could have saved my life and didn’t?”
“I don’t have this kind of money.”
