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"Good man. You go with Mr. Roberts, and Miss Bainbridge will be waiting for you right outside, a'ight?"
The kid nodded and turned. Marie kept on staring at him in a way that he had no special desire to pay attention to. This was outside his area of expertise, he knew, but it wasn't as if he was just going to watch the kid get screwed up the way he had. That was how kids got mixed up in things they had absolutely no business getting mixed up in.
When he'd finally disappeared inside the office, Marie's silence broke.
"What was that supposed to be?"
He shrugged. "I thought I ought to straighten him out."
"You couldn't have been gentler about it?"
He put his lips together and didn't open them again.
She rolled her eyes. "You men, I swear to God."
Chris smiled, and she promptly turned away in a huff.
Thirteen
Marie Bainbridge sat and tried not to act like she was mad, which she knew wasn't working. If anything, she was making it worse, because every time she tried to play it cool, it meant that she had to think about it again.
She was dealing with these kids—with Jamie Pearson in particular—every single day. She knew how he thought, how he felt. She knew his problems. She knew where he was strong and where he needed more work.
Where did a bartender who might have spoken two words to the boy since she'd been in Applewood Junction think he had any place to override what she thought was best?
She closed her eyes. No need to get angry. No need to get angry at all. He was who he was, and she had to admit, the confident way that he'd handled a tough situation had a certain charm to it. She could almost feel the Sheriff's relief as Jamie had calmed down.
They waited together for a long time. Chris had been so ready to go work, before, yet now he seemed to be dawdling here with her, as if there was some reason he needed to stay. She couldn't figure out what it was, yet the fact that he was most certainly waiting for something was unavoidable and undeniable.
The thought, when it finally occurred to her, ripped itself right out of her mouth, in spite of not necessarily wanting to speak with him. It would serve him right if she were to remain silent. Her reflexive speaking didn't much care what would serve him right.
"What are they going to do with him?"
His silence might have implied that he wasn't listening and didn't think much of the question. The way that his face pinched, on the other hand, told a very different story.
"If you don't know, then—"
"I know exactly what they're going to do with him," Chris said finally. "It's not a topic I enjoy discussing."
"If I offended you, then—"
"No," he cuts her off shortly. "I can't just ignore it, I guess. I shouldn't ignore it."
"Ignore what?"
"If they've got family to take them in, then that's how it goes. Jamie don't."
"And if they haven't got any family?"
"Then things get prickly. Nobody'll take in some strange kid, will they? Hard enough feeding the mouths you got." Chris leans his head back. The brim of his hat touches the wall behind and lifts a little off his brow. "So they go along to an orphanage. He's an only child, yeah?"
Marie nods. Jamie had been letting on little hints, when she hadn't had him working too hard to talk much, that his mother was expecting. If she was, then when she'd—she hadn't been far enough along to show much.
"That's good, then. No siblings is the best way. You have brothers or sisters, they might keep you together—they might as well not, too."
"So these orphanages. Not the sort of place you want to be, then, from the way you make them sound."
"Then I made them sound right," he agrees. He's got his eyes closed, so whatever his feelings, or his history, Marie can only guess.
