Fireside by Susan Wiggs (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

something that will help us. Anything can happen in an immigration case. I’m working with a colleague, whose firm specializes in immigration.” She touched him again, lightly on the arm. “See that document on my computer screen? It’s an emergency writ of appeal. We’re going to file it in federal court first thing Monday morning. It’s telling the court that a minor citizen of the United States has been left without legal guardianship. We’re hoping to get emergency temporary status for your mom.”

The lines of worry reappeared in his brow. He regarded the computer screen, his expression drawn and miserable. “I just need to see my mom. I can’t wait any longer.”

Bo wanted to hug him or something, he felt so sorry for the kid. He didn’t want to cross a boundary with AJ, though. Damn, he hated this. Remembering the way Sophie had touched AJ earlier, Bo reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder. “It’s not going to be forever, but all this legal stuff is going to take some time.”

AJ pulled away. “How much time?”

Bo traded a look with Sophie. “No one can say for sure,” he said.

AJ glared at him with suspicion. “Why can’t I just go to wherever they sent my mom? To the detention center and then to Mexico or whatever?”

“You’re an American citizen, and sending you there is just as complicated as bringing her back,” Bo said, receiving a nod of encouragement from Sophie. “Besides, that’s not what your mom wants for you.” Yolanda had been adamant during her urgent phone call. There was nothing but danger and uncertainty for him there, she’d said.

“I’m a kid,” AJ reminded him needlessly. “Doesn’t that matter? That I’m a kid, and I’m supposed to be with my mother?”

“Actually, that was the law until recently,” Sophie said. “The Immigration Reform Act wiped out that option. Used to be, if undocumented parents could prove their deportation would put a U.S. citizen—in this case, you, AJ—at risk, the judge could let them stay. But the act made deportation automatic.” She showed them a document she’d printed out. “In the mid-’90s, there were around forty thousand deportations a year. Nowadays, there are around three hundred thousand a year. The INS and ICE will tell you they’re getting rid of a criminal element, but that’s not always the case. Plenty of working people—even war veterans—get swept up in raids.”

“Not helping,” Bo said, watching AJ.

“No, I want to know how things stand,” the boy said. “Even if it’s bad news.”

“It’s not necessarily bad,” she said. “It simply means we have to find another strategy. In the meantime, your home will be here in Avalon, with Bo.”

Bo tried not to feel insulted by the expression on the boy’s face. “All right, so I’m not father of the year,” he conceded. “But I’m ready to step up to the plate.” When he was pitching, he could read the batter. He could guess what a guy at the plate was thinking—expecting—based on his stance and posture, where his eyes went and what he did with his jaw. Bo wondered if the technique would work on this boy. If so, the kid’s demeanor was telegraphing fear and rage, not a good combination. A batter who faced a pitcher in this state was fully expecting to be capped by a wild fastball.

Bo reached for AJ’s shoulder again, trying for another reassuring squeeze, but this time, the boy was prepared, and he jerked out of range. “I’m going to go see if there are any of those pastries left,” he said, and headed for the kitchen.

Bo turned to Sophie. “What can I say? The kid loves me.”

She smiled, but the suspicious sheen in her eyes told the story. “He’s terrified, and who can blame him? You’ll both get through this, I know you will.”

“So be realistic, Soph. What are Yolanda’s chances?”

“It’s like I told AJ. Anything can happen. The most important thing now is to research every aspect of the case. We need to learn everything we can about Yolanda, even things she might not want us to know.”

“What’re you asking?” He felt a twinge of discomfiture.

“I’m not certain. I suspect this is going to take longer than you or AJ want it to.” She searched his face. “I’m just trying to be realistic, Bo. Sometimes things don’t happen at the most convenient time.”

“I can’t do this, Soph. I’m completely unprepared. I live over a bar, for chrissake.”

“Is he safe there?”

“Sure, but the place is tiny. Noisy, too, and probably not the ideal place for a kid to be living. If this is going to go on for any length of time, I’ll have to find a new place.”

“Then I suggest you do that.”

He nodded and dug out his mobile phone. “I need to make a phone call.”

“I need a kolache before they’re all gone,” Sophie said, heading for the kitchen.

Dino Carminucci answered on the first ring. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Bo had made Dino aware of the situation the day before. Dino had been incredulous, but then he’d offered the usual innocuous, “If there’s anything I can do…”

There might be. Bo brought him up to date on the situation. “Sophie—she’s a lawyer—says this is going to take a while,” Bo said.

“He all right?”

“No,” Bo said. “How can a kid be all right with his mother getting caught in a dragnet while he’s at recess? I mean, I’ve had bad weekends before, but this—” He stopped, took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to find another place to live for a while. Above the Hilltop’s fine for me, but it’s no place for a kid.”

“Good thing you called me, then,” Dino said. “I got the perfect place. You come see me after the lawyer. We’ll work this out.”

“This is the ‘better arrangement’ you were talking about?” AJ stared at the candy-colored mansion, his eyes narrowed with skepticism.

“Dino swears it’s a great place to stay. But you know what I heard? I heard it belongs to some crazy widow