Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (ebook reader ink .txt) 📕

her hand out for it and Eli held it just out of reach.

"You drive. I'll talk."

She gritted her teeth at him but gave in. He was undoubtedly right. "Okay, tell him I need him to go over to my house and turn on the heat and the water."

Eli relayed the message, then elaborated. "Yeah, we're moving in, Marilyn and me and my kid."

"You don't need to tell him all that," she protested.

"Joey's on our side. Why not tell him?"

She huffed out a breath. "Ask if he still has the key I gave him." When she got an affirmative, she went on with her detailed instructions, wondering how this move would turn out. It felt big, important, but was it?

After listening to Joey repeat the instructions, Eli hung up. "Are you planning to go back there tonight?"

"What do you think? It's clean. A little dusty maybe, but Pete will have his own room and a bed. There's enough kitchen stuff still there to do breakfast."

"I guess it depends on what time we get back. If it's not too late, we can try it."

Marilyn nodded, feeling even more nervous about the whole thing.

They reached the hospital in Erie well after dark and found a place to park not too terribly far from the emergency room door. Even with his crutch and broken leg, Eli rushed ahead of Marilyn, swinging along with a speed that left her breathless and far behind.

She caught up with him at the waiting room entrance where he'd stopped to scan the room. Marilyn looked too, hunting for a little boy looking alone and scared.

That one, maybe? Thin-faced and dark-haired like Teresa, small for a five-year-old. But no, his mother was calling him back to her side.

"Eli!"

Marilyn's attention snapped to the child's voice calling out Eli's name. No.

That couldn't be him. He was too old. Much too old. Eight or nine, maybe ten, skinny arms inside a too-big T-shirt, pale brown hair the same color as Eli's sticking straight up, faint winter freckles dusting his thin big-eyed face. Too old. Too old. He couldn't be Pete. She couldn't bear it.

"Hey, squirt." Eli staggered slightly as the too-old boy tackled him with a bear hug.

No. That couldn't be Pete. It just couldn't.

Marilyn sank into a chair before her knees gave out.

From the corner of his eye, Eli noticed Marilyn sit down. She looked pale, not right. But with Pete jumping on him, threatening to knock him over, he couldn't take time to be sure she was okay.

The security guard by the door was speaking into a phone. Probably calling the social worker or whoever was in charge of stuff like this.

"Eli. Eli--" Pete was pulling on his good arm.

"What, kid?"

"Where's my dad? You said you were bringing him. Is he coming? Where is he? Is he still outside?"

Eli took a deep breath. Crunch time. "He's here, Pete. Your dad's right here."

"Where?" Pete peered around the waiting room, obviously expecting some perfect dad to pop up like a jack-in-the-box.

"Here, Pete. I'm your dad."

The boy stared, a faint smile on his face, waiting for the punch line to the joke. "No, really, Eli. Where is he?"

Eli glanced back at Marilyn. He needed some help here. But she had her head down, face in her hands, like she didn't feel good. No help coming there. "Right here. Me."

The smile faded. "You're fuckin' with me, man."

"Hey!" Eli scowled. "What did I tell you about words like that?"

"You can't tell me nothin'! You're not my father!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry as he--heck you feel that way because you're stuck. I'm your father and I'm the only one you got."

Come on, Marilyn. Help! But she hadn't moved.

It wasn't like her, and it worried Eli. He wanted to check on her, see what was wrong, but he had his hands full with Pete.

"If you're my dad, how come you didn't tell me before?"

Yeah, how come? Eli's conscience nagged. All the reasons that had made so much sense over the past nine years now sounded stupid at best, and completely cowardly.

"Look, I'm sorry. I--no excuse, okay? I'm telling you now."

"Well, maybe I don't want you for my dad."

"Well, maybe--" Eli broke off his hot retort. He was the dad here. He was the grown-up, though at the moment, he didn't feel very grown up at all.

"Excuse me, sir?" A woman in a severe blue suit had emerged from the heart of the hospital. She introduced herself as being with Child Services. "Are you this boy's father?"

"Yeah." Eli reached for his wallet, for the papers he carried with him everywhere. "Yes, I am."

He handed them to her. "That's the recognition of paternity there, and that's my ID so you know I'm me."

"You're Eli Court?" The woman looked at him over the reading glasses she'd put on. "The boy's name is Howell."

"His mom and I thought it would be easier if they had the same name."

"You've been providing support for the child Peter Howell?"

"I paid the rent and utilities. Direct, so I'd know it got paid. I sent money for food, sent him clothes."

"You lived out of town?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm his father. I showed you the proof. What's with all the questions?"

Pete started to edge away, maybe hoping to find some other dad stashed in a closet somewhere. Eli snagged him by the back of the T-shirt. "Don't," he said. "Sit. Stick around."

"I was just gonna go watch TV."

"Don't leave the room, got me?"

"Yeah, yeah." Pete sulked a few rows over and collapsed in a chair next to the little kid driving his mom nuts with his acrobatics.

The woman frowned at Eli, obviously not impressed by the display of fatherly care. "Where's the boy's mother?"

Eli lowered his voice, though he was pretty sure Pete couldn't hear him, over by the TV. "She's dead. That's why Pete was up here. We didn't think he needed to be around while she was dying." The small lie came easily to Eli's lips. "I don't have a death certificate yet, if that's what you