Someone To Believe In by Kathryn Shay Page A

she acknowledged at least some of the good he
did.
    Then he wondered why he cared. She’d
disconnected a couple of nights ago when they’d been making some
progress in getting to know each other, and he hadn’t tried to
contact her since. Concentrate , he told himself, as he peered out at
the fairly decent crowd of kids, adults, and some of the
press.
    In his remarks, he cited the bookstore’s
layout: children’s reading centers scattered throughout, indicating
different topics by various primary colors. There was an adventure
section that sported action figures hovering in the air over the
stacks, pillows and chairs of all sizes. There were similar areas
for nonfiction: trains and race cars acting as seating areas,
trees, rocks, and the like. It was a child’s paradise, designed to
get kids interested in books. The undercurrent of children’s
chatter and excited squeals indicated the level of enthusiasm he’d
hoped for.
    As he finished his talk and a crowd
began to gather around him, he had a flash of reading to Jon. When
he was a district attorney, Clay was home more than after he
entered politics, and remembered how his son liked the Grimm
Brothers fairy tales. Karen had said they were too dark, but Clay
had enjoyed reading them, then watching the videos of Fairy Tale Theater. A far cry from
the time they spent together—or didn’t spend together—now. Thinking
of their last conversation, a sense of loss ambushed him like an
emotional sniper, setting him off balance for a minute.
    I can’t believe you’d do this to me.
    I didn’t do anything. I just went to Lawson’s
preliminary meeting.
    Going’s enough. He hadn’t even tried keep the hurt from his voice.
    And, as he always did when they argued,
Jon went on the defensive. He’d straightened to his full height and
squared his shoulders. Worried about the
public’s reaction?
    No , Clay
remembered thinking, you broke my
heart.
    There had been no dinner and a show that trip
for father and son.
    He was distracted from his unpleasant memory
by a tug on his suit coat. Looking down, he saw a little
black-haired boy with startling blue eyes staring up at him. “Wanna
read to me, mister?”
    Clay grinned. “I’d love to.” Something about
the kid...“Is your mom or dad here? I wouldn’t want them to think
you’re lost.”
    The boy nodded. “My uncle’s over there.”
    Clay glanced up to see a man with looks
similar to the boy watching them from about fifteen feet away. He
raised his coffee cup in salute to Clay. Ah, he got it.
    Squatting down, he faced the kid eye-level.
“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Rory, would it?”
    Owl eyes now. “How’d ya know?”
    “I met your mom and uncle. And I saw your
picture.”
    “Mommy’s got lots of pictures. Uncle A. takes
them.” He held out a book. “Read me this,” he said in the tone of a
child used to being read to.
    “Okay. Let me check with your uncle
first.”
    Rory grasped on to his hand; his fingers were
a little sticky, and very small. Clay was touched by the
gesture.
    When they reached the uncle, Clay extended
his other hand. “Aidan, right?”
    Bailey’s brother shook his hand warmly.
“Yeah, hi, Senator.”
    “Clay, please.” He smiled down at Rory. “Your
nephew asked if I’d read to him.”
    Eyes exactly like Bailey’s were amused.
“I know. He said he wanted that important
man to read him his favorite book.”
    Clay glanced at Rory’s choice of
reading material. Where the Wild Things
Are . “Now why doesn’t this surprise me? Like mother
like son.”
    “You got that right. It’s Bailey’s favorite,
too. We all went to see the exhibit at the museum downtown.”
    His heartbeat speeded up a bit and he glanced
behind Aidan. “Bailey with you?”
    “Nope. She’s workin’ in ‘that awful
place’.”
    Clay smiled. “She know you’re here?”
    “She knows I was taking my man here to do
something educational. I wanted to hear what you had to say. I’ll
tell her we saw