Free Disguised Blessing by Georgia Bockoven Page A

seven. Looks like the fire was arson. Something to do with the brother being in a gang.”
    Lyn didn’t gossip and rarely had time for casual conversation. She was leading up to something.“Did you want me to take this kid instead of the Miller girl?”
    “Actually, I was hoping you could stop by to visit him when you’re there with Lynda. At least until I can find someone in Fairfield to take his case. According to the police, he doesn’t have any family left in the area and I thought it might help if he had someone to talk to.”
    Rick had stopped looking for fairness in life, or believing good people were rewarded and bad punished, a long time ago. It didn’t happen that way. There was nothing this kid could have done, no crime big enough, no sin bad enough to bring something like this on himself. “What’s his name?”
    “Ray Tatum. He’s seventeen and should be easy to talk to—when he can talk, that is. He’s a candidate for valedictorian at his high school and, according to one of his teachers I saw interviewed on the news, he’s being considered by both Harvard and Stanford.”
    “Jesus, what a waste. Did you hear whether they know who did it?”
    “Supposedly they have a couple of eyewitnesses.”
    “Who’ll develop amnesia before the case comes to trial,” Rick said.
    “I don’t know. The people in the neighborhood are pretty shaken by this. They’re tired of having their lives controlled by a bunch of thugs.”
    “Even if some of them are their own children? The changes they need to make are ones that are a lot easier said than done.”
    “Granted.”
    Rick stared at the hole in the dining room wall that he’d been staring at for the past eight years and decided today was the day he was going to do something about it. Tearing down wallboard would be a good way to vent his frustration, and if he had it out of the way, putting the new stuff up would go a lot faster. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how things go with Lynda’s mother. Right now I hear a hammer calling my name.”

8
    L YNDA WOKE TO THE NOW FAMILIAR BEEPS AND humming sounds of the equipment around her bed. She opened her eyes to small slits, ready to close them again should she discover someone in the room with her. It seemed the only place she could be alone anymore was in her mind, and she escaped there whenever possible.
    She didn’t see anyone. Even ever present Brian wasn’t there.
    As much as she loved her mother and uncle and grandmother, she’d reached the point where she wanted to scream at the sight of them. For over a week now they’d all had the same look in their eyes, that “oh, poor, poor Lynda” expression of pity. Only Brian treated her the way he had before. Which she didn’t understand or trust. He should have checked out the first day when he saw that she was going to live and that there was nothing more he could do to help.
    She couldn’t figure out why he was there all thetime, especially with the way she looked and the things he saw done to her. For a while she’d thought maybe he felt guilty, but he was the one who’d saved her from being a total matchstick, so he should have felt pretty good about himself.
    Sometimes she liked having him there, especially when she needed to vent. He would listen and nod once in a while like he understood. Everyone else she tried to talk to would say things they thought would make her feel better, whether they made sense or not.
    How could they think that was possible? Couldn’t they see? Her life was over. At least the one she used to have, the one she wanted back more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
    She didn’t need people feeling sorry for her. And if she heard one more time how everything was going to be all right, or how good the doctor was, or how lucky she was that it was her back and not her face that had been burned, she was going to tell them that they didn’t have a goddamned clue and to leave her alone.
    Words never