"Don't go in the water without me," Winona says as Willa takes off running through the sand swinging her pail.
Winona sits back in the low chair, one eye on Willa as she scrounges through the bag on her lap for her sunscreen. She already slathered waterproof kids' sun block all over Willa before they left the house. She pulls off her sunglasses and reaches deeper into the bag, coming up with the half-empty bottle. God only knows how long it's been in there. She isn't as conscientious about wearing it as she should be. She smoothes it thick over her arms and chest, but puts a lighter coat on her legs, hoping a few rays sneak through.
It's a weekday, and the beach isn't crowded. Vacationers usually choose the more populated and trendy beaches south of here and most of the Florida natives Winona knows rarely go to the beach at all. Willa loves the water, though, and she tries to bring her every other week or so. They swim a little if it's warm and calm enough, and walk along the edge of the water if it's rough or too cold to go in. Willa has a growing shell collection in a basket in her room.
Satisfied that Willa is parked several feet away from the reach of the waves, Winona tucks the sunscreen back in her bag and opens her book.
When she looks up again, there's a tall bearded man in a gaudy beach hat and a small boy standing near Willa. The man is waving. She shades her eyes with her hand and squints to see more clearly, and then pushes up out of the chair, wrapping the towel around her waist like a sarong.
"Father Theo?" She hardly recognized the priest in the hat, red swim trunks, and Jimmy Buffet t-shirt. She walks toward him and the children, now playing together with Willa's sand bucket and shovel.
"Hey," the priest says. "Nice day, isn't it?"
She looks at the boy and back to Father Theo, whose eyes twinkle.
"No, I'm not secretly married with children." He laughs, showing straight white teeth. "This is my nephew, Max. My sister and my nieces are back up the beach a ways. Max is our wanderer. He likes to walk and look for shells and crawling things."
Winona smiles down at Willa and her new friend. "They're a perfect match."
"I noticed that you pulled Willa out of First Communion classes," Father Theo says.
"I did." She nods. "Her father wasn't thrilled with the idea. He thinks she's too young. He wants to wait until she's older and able to decide for herself." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other digging her toes into the sand.
"Isn't it a parent's job to make some of those choices for their children?"
"Yes, but I think Raylan has as much a right to do that as I do," Winona says. "He is her father."
The priest squats in the sand, watching as his nephew runs toward the water to fill the bucket. "So you have a good relationship with him?"
"I do and so does Willa."
Max returns, running back and abruptly dumping the contents of the bucket all over the beginnings of the sandcastle Willa was carefully constructing. The little girl stares at the wet mess running in dark rivulets back toward the water.
"No!" She yells. Her face turns red and she picks up the shovel, smacking him on the arm.
"Willa!" Winona kneels down. Taking the shovel from her daughter's hand she grabs both the girl's wrists gently but firmly and looks her in the eye. "We do not hit people."
"But he ruined it!" Willa sobs. She throws herself at Winona who gathers her in.
"I'm so sorry," she says, looking up at Father Theo.
"Max," he says sternly. "That wasn't nice. You need to apologize. Now."
"Sorry," Max says in a sing-song voice.
"You need to apologize, too," Winona tells her daughter.
Willa shakes her head still holding onto her mother.
"Willa Grace."
"I'm sorry I hit you," she says, almost a whisper.
"Your apology didn't sound very sincere, Maxwell," Father Theo says.
Max looks up at his uncle for a moment, then he leans over, peering at Willa. "I'm sorry I ruined your castle. I'll help you build it again if you want."
"No!" Willa turns her head. "Go away."
"Willa, come on," Winona coaxes. "He said he's sorry."
After a few minutes, Willa peels herself away from her mother, still pouting, and tentatively reaches for the bucket. Max hands it over and she kneels, scooping up sand and packing it down inside. With Winona and Father Theo watching, the two start building another structure, Max wisely taking his directions from Willa.
The two adults watch for any signs of conflict, but the kids seem to already have forgotten what happened a few minutes ago.
Father Theo chuckles. "Too bad adults can't solve their disagreements as easily."
"That would be nice," Winona agrees.
"Richard was at morning mass today," Father Theo says.
Winona takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. She looks out at the water, not at Father Theo.
"He was upset. He told me about Tomás – Tommy." The priest continues. "I said I would go talk to the boy later today."
"I'm sure that's not all he told you." She digs her fingers into her arms so hard she might have bruises. Maybe she deserves them.
Father Theo stuffs his hands into the pockets of his swim shorts. "Relationships are complicated, especially marriage."
She presses her lips together and barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. She's always thought forbidding priests to marry was not only silly, but also dangerous. How could he counsel couples when he couldn't possibly know what married life was like?
Father Theo must be used to that reaction. "You aren't the only one who thinks a priest can't know about that, but you'd be wrong. First thing, I'm human and I wasn't always a priest. I've been in love, and I've had sex. I know how powerful those emotions can be. Second, I have been a priest for almost twenty years. I've heard thousands of confessions and done hours of counseling. Like I told you before, I'm a good listener. And I don't judge. That's up to my boss. And he's pretty understanding."
When she doesn't respond, he sighs. "Can I say one thing?"
Winona gives a tight nod.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told Richard. Take some time for yourself to think things through before you make any major decisions."
It's sound advice, she knows.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
It's after nine when Raylan pulls into the condo's two stall garage. Winona's Volvo is already parked inside, and, not used to making room; he has to back up twice to be able to open the driver's side door wide enough to squeeze out. He looks at the car and shakes his head. She never could park straight. Sliding out, he grabs the hat from the passenger seat.
The lingering aroma of something good hits him as he walks into the kitchen. He tosses the hat on the counter and opens the fridge. There are three take-out boxes from Dimetrios on the top shelf.
"There's fettuccini alfredo and spaghetti." Winona's voice startles him and he turns around, box in his hand. "You can guess who had what." She smiles. She's wearing white capris and a bright pink tank with no bra. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun and her face is flushed from the day at the beach.
"There's salad in there, too," she says. "I got enough for you."
He's tired, and this is a familiar scene, played out many times over the course of their relationship. Maybe that's why he hears an accusation woven into her innocent words.
"I toldja I didn't know when I'd be home."
She sighs. "I know that, Raylan, I'm not mad. I just wanted you to have something to eat because I know you forget to eat when you're working."
"Yeah, I do miss Gutterson. He always reminded me." He opens the fridge again and takes out a beer. "You just got here and we're already pickin' at each other." He pops the cap and takes a swig. "Sorry. It's been a long day."
She reaches out for the box. "I'll get a plate and warm that up."
"Thanks."
She presses a palm between his shoulder blades. "Go kiss Willa goodnight. I just put her down so she's probably still awake."
"Isn't it past her bedtime?" He takes another long pull on the beer, finishing it.
"I let her stay up." Winona shrugs. "We watched Finding Nemo."
"For the hundredth time," he quips. He pops the cap on a second beer before treading quietly down the hall and pushing open the door to his daughter's room.
"Daddy?" Her voice is sleepy.
"Hey Willa-bee. Why aren't you asleep?" He squats next to the bed, finding her eyes in the dark.
"I wanted to say goodnight." She yawns.
He runs a hand over her hair. "Ya know, I gotta lot goin' on at work right now. I might not be gettin' home until after your bedtime some nights. So sometimes, you're gonna have to go to sleep anyway."
"Mama said you could text me on her phone."
He chuckles at Winona's solution. "I could do that." Leaning in, he tucks the covers close around her and plants a kiss on her cheek. "You go to sleep now, okay?"
"Okay."
"G'night."
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Willa?" He answers in a tone that he hopes says 'go to sleep'.
"Are we gonna live here with you?"
He presses a thumb to his temple to quell a budding headache. "For awhile, yeah."
"Until Tommy goes to jail?"
Sighing, he sits down on the edge of the bed. "He might not go to jail, Honey. He's a juven...a kid, and the court might just decide he needs to be in a special school, or check in with a counselor."
She squeezes Mr. Bear so hard Raylan is surprised the stuffing doesn't pop out. "I think he should go to jail."
"He was wrong to tell you to keep a secret." He swallows hard. "He didn't ask you to keep any other secrets, did he?" If the kid has done anything to hurt Willa, Raylan will kill him and maybe Richard, too, and gladly go to jail.
Willa shakes her head. "No, Daddy."
"You'd tell me if he had, right? There's nothing to be afraid of now and Mama and me wouldn't be mad."
Willa nods.
Thank God. "Good. Now, you need to go to sleep." He kisses her again and she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her soft cheek to his.
"I love you, Daddy."
He hugs her back. "Me, too."
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
Raylan pushes the plate away. He finished her fettuccini and Willa's spaghetti, but only picked at the salad. Now he picks up his third beer and finishes it, too.
She has her elbow on the table her chin resting in her hand. "So how long will this trial take?"
"All depends," he says. "The prosecution has a pretty strong case, maybe once it's all laid out Cabrizzo will cop a plea. But, his lawyers have seen all the evidence and he hasn't yet, so he must figure he can beat the rap."
"Or rig the jury?"
"With the cartels, that's always a possibility." He sighs. "Or they might try to stage something and go for a mistrial. Judge Walker is a piece of work. Independent cuss, didn't want protection at all. Only agreed to it because of his wife. I have a feeling he's going to try to ditch us at some point."
Still nursing her first beer, Winona takes a sip, even though it's getting warm.
"Did you hear anything from Richard today?" He says, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room. He gets up from the table and takes his plate and rinses it off in the sink.
She shakes her head. "I texted him, asked about Tommy, but he didn't text back. I don't even know if he was arraigned." She pushes her chair back and follows him into the kitchen.
"I could check. There's a website I have access to that lists all the proceedings."
"Do you mind?"
"Nope. I'm kinda curious myself."
In the spare bedroom he uses as an office, Raylan fires up the laptop. Winona perches on the edge of the futon waiting for it to go online.
"Here we go," Raylan says. He types in the web address, his ID and password. Scrolling down he clicks on something and another screen pops up. "He was arraigned and pled no contest. So they released him to parental custody pending sentencing." He reads further. "Huh. Carson Sullivan, is that his grandfather from Philadelphia?"
"Yes, why?" She's talked briefly to Carson on the phone, but she's never met him.
"Kit wasn't the attorney of record. Grandpa must've brought in someone else – here it is - Katrina Harris - she got Tommy released to Carson's custody, not Richard's."
Winona gets up and peers over Raylan's shoulder. "Wow. I bet Richard is furious."
"Don't Tommy's grandparents have primary custody anyway?"
Winona nods. "Yeah. Kinda weird, huh?"
Raylan closes the browser and shuts the laptop. "He started to tell me a little about it last night, but he clammed up before I got the whole story. I figured you'd know more."
"Not really," she says. "We never talk about Gina and Tommy always seemed to be a sore subject, unless he was coming to visit, so I avoided it." She sits back, crossing her legs. "I wondered about the arrangement, but he was so good with Willa that I didn't worry too much about it." She yawns. "Sorry, I didn't sleep very well last night."
"You get settled in? Find everything okay? Towels?"
"I got one." She reaches behind her and comes up with a folded towel.
"There's hangers in the closet if you brought anything you need to hang up." He leans in the doorway. "Ya don't have to sleep on this lumpy thing. I toldja you could have the bed and I'd sleep in here."
"I'm not kicking you out of your bed," she says. "I'm putting you out enough already."
"Ya aren't puttin' me out. You're my family, you and Willa." He tips his chin down. "She asked me if you were gonna live here now."
"I told her it was just because of Tommy," Winona says. "But if he's with his grandfather..." She bites her lip.
"What, you thinkin' about goin' back?"
He crosses his arms over his chest and levels that cool gaze at her, the one that always makes her feel like one of his fugitives. She wishes there was a neutral place to get away from both Richard's anger and Raylan's intensity, just for a little while. As she sits on the futon, trying not to squirm under his gaze, a thought pops into her head.
"Maybe I should go visit Gayle. She's been wanting me to come, and with you working, I wouldn't have to worry that you're missing your time with Willa."
Now that she's voicing it, it seems like the perfect solution, but Raylan looks skeptical.
"You could still talk to her everyday and we wouldn't stay long, maybe a week. Can I use your computer to look for a cheap flight?"
"Sure," he says. "But don't you think you should talk to Gayle first?"
Maybe she is getting ahead of herself. "You're probably right," she says. "But I know it will be okay with her. She really wants to see Willa, and we haven't had a good visit in a long time." It's true. Gayle has been to Florida a couple of times, but their mother managed to make those visits all about her, and the sisters hadn't had the time they wanted to reconnect.
She can tell Raylan is still pensive. The reason dawns on her as she looks at him. "You think I'm running away again, don't you?"
Without waiting for him to answer, she gets up off the bed and stands in front of him. "I'm not. For once I want to think about things. Really think and sort it all out with someone who knows me. And no one knows me better than Gayle."
"With your track record, ya can't blame me for bein' suspicious."
"Hey." Cupping his cheek in her hand she meets his eyes. "I'm not taking your little girl away from you. Whatever is going to happen next, I want to be sure about it. Don't you think that's a good idea?"
He throws his arm around her and pulls her close, murmuring into her hair. "Yeah, I guess I do."