War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel by Kris Nelscott Read Free Book Online Page A

Mrs. Kirkland find somebody else?” he asked.
    “She can’t afford anybody else,” I said.
    “If she can’t afford anybody else, how can she pay you?”
    Out of the mouths of babes. I sighed. “We’d probably trade services. My work for hers.”
    “More school,” he said, and slumped in his chair.
    I nodded. “If we stayed, you’d be going this summer anyway. Franklin and Mrs. Kirkland came to terms this afternoon.”
    “Nobody goes to school in the summer,” Jimmy said.
    “Lots of people do,” I said. “That’s why it’s called summer school.”
    He wrinkled his nose, slid back up in his chair, and dug into the meal, holding his fork in his fist. He had been hungry after the long game, and he was dirty. I made him wash his hands and face before we ate, but he would still have to take a shower before bed.
    “What’ll I do when you’re working?” he asked.
    “That’s something I’d have to figure out. For the most part, you’d come with me.”
    He wrinkled his nose again. “I’d rather swim.”
    I understood. I would rather give him the carefree childhood he’d never had, the kind he played at this afternoon. But Jackson Park wasn’t far from gang territory, and the Blackstone Rangers had a reputation for getting in deeper trouble in the summer. They’d started mugging people on the El last month, apparently to fill the Stones’ coffers with extra money.
    “What about Laura?” Jimmy was asking about Laura Hathaway. He had become quite attached to her in this past year. They were friends, independent of my relationship with her.
    “What about her?” I asked.
    “Would she come?”
    “Probably not,” I said. “She has her own work to do.”
    “You work for her. Don’t you got to stay?”
    “I contract with her,” I said. “I work for myself.”
    He probably didn’t understand the distinction, but he nodded anyway.
    “Won’t she miss us?” he asked.
    “I suspect she might.”
    “Then maybe we should stay.”
    “It’s not final yet, Jim,” I said. “I just wanted you to know what I was thinking.”
    He sopped up the last of the bright orange sauce on his plate with a piece of sausage. “Could Keith come?”
    “I don’t think the Grimshaws would approve.”
    He sighed. “What about Mrs. Kirkland? If she’s teaching, maybe I should stay.”
    “I’m not talking about moving,” I said. At least, not yet.
    “Yes, you are,” he said. “You don’t like it here anymore. You got scared in April, and you haven’t liked it ever since.”
    I set my fork down. I hadn’t realized Jimmy had been watching me so closely. I shouldn’t have underestimated him.
    “I am worried,” I said. “And, to be honest with you, I’m not sure this is the best place for us.”
    “But we gots friends!” He usually lapsed into bad grammar to provoke me, but I had a sense that this time, the lapse was caused by his distress.
    “Yes, we do. We don’t lose friends because we move.”
    “You did.”
    I looked at him.
    “That nice minister guy in Memphis, we never saw him again. You don’t even call him.”
    Jimmy was referring to Henry Davis, who had helped us leave town. I’d contacted him a few times, most recently from a pay phone when a case had taken me to Indiana, but Jimmy didn’t know that.
    “Maybe that’s our biggest problem,” I said.
    Jimmy frowned at me. “What?”
    “That we’ve begun to feel safe enough to forget why we’re here in the first place.”
    Jimmy looked down. He pushed the last piece of meat around on his plate.
    “I’m sorry, Jim,” I said. “I have to do what’s best for us, and sometimes it’s not pleasant.”
    “I know,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.
    “There’s no guarantee that we’re moving,” I said. “I’m not even sure we’re going on a trip, but it’s a possibility. I promised you I wouldn’t lie to you, and I’ve kept that promise.”
    “I know.” His voice was even softer.
    “If we do go, we’ll keep the