“Do you know her?” Valerie was careful to keep her tone neutral, one basketball mother asking after another.
“I’ve seen her around. The only thing I really know about her is that Abraham gets mad when he thinks a man’s looking at her.”
Because he was a twelve-year-old boy who didn’t want to see his mother in that light? Or because he saw too much of it?
Valerie suspected the latter. But wasn’t sure.
And if she was wrong? And took the boy from the woman who loved him? She understood the bond of motherhood.
“Do your boys know him?” Kirk asked.
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Something’s not right with that boy, and I can’t get him to open enough to figure out what. He’s a good kid. I’d like to be able to help him.”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Valerie fought back the twinge of conscience that warned of the dangerous ground she was treading.
Abraham was due back in her court in another few weeks for a review-of-status hearing, and she had to do whatever she could for him.
“During the first part of the year, he missed more school than he attended,” Kirk said.
She knew that.
“He missed practice on Friday because he had to do some volunteer work.”
Valerie sipped lukewarm chocolate. “Did he say where?”
“An old folks’ home.”
His community service. There was no reason for Kirk to know that the boy was on probation. It probably wasn’t information Abraham would share.
“I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong, I just know that something is. I’ve lived most of life by sheer instinct and I know that boy’s in some kind of trouble.”
“He’s lucky he’s got you looking out for him.”
And perhaps she was lucky, too. If Kirk could somehow stumble on something that C.P.S. was missing…
“Yeah, well,” Kirk said, rolling his eyes. “We’ll have to see about that.”
The conversation wandered then, and a few minutes later Valerie leaned forward, arms on the table, and grinned. “So tell me, Mr. Chandler, what do you do with your life besides help kids across the street, supervise lunchrooms and playgrounds and coach basketball?”
The more she was with the man, the more compelled she was to know what motivated him.
“That is my life,” he told her emphatically.
Valerie put her crumpled napkin in her cup, disappointed. She’d thought they’d made a connection that evening.
Still, it didn’t matter.
“I find it hard to believe that a man who’s obviously well educated is content with so little to challenge him.”
His eyes narrowed as he, too, stuffed his napkin in his empty cup. “You of all people should know that dealing with children is the biggest challenge of all.”
He had her there. Sort of.
They stood. Threw away their trash.
Kirk Chandler wasn’t the only one who had well-honed instincts. And Valerie’s were telling her that he wasn’t being completely straight with her. Something just didn’t make sense.