Page 64 of Heart Strain

“Is that a fox etched into the top?” he asks.

“Uh-huh,” I say as I hold my hand out so he can give it back.

“It’s gorgeous.” I watch as he pushes the button at the top to make it flip open, and he exhales. “Oh, wow. The craftsmanship is unbelievable. You should take this out all the time and show it off.” The antique watch is a beautiful piece, yellow gold with mother-of-pearl behind the two different sets of gears. I don’t… can’t respond, and of course, he notices. “Foxy? Whose is this? Why do you carry it all the time?”

Taking a deep breath, I search Holds’s eyes as he gazes up at me. All I see is sincerity and concern, so I drop down next to him on the bed. “It’s my dad’s pocket watch. He inherited it from his father, and he’d inherited it from his father. His own dad had sent it with him when he immigrated to America. We’ve always kept one gear on US time and the other is set for the town we’re originally from in Ireland.”

“So it’s a family heirloom; that’s cool your father gave it to you. But why do you look so upset, uncomfortable even?”

Staring at a spot on the floor, I tell Holds the story I knew I’d have to tell him some day, but dreaded. Men in the past had disregarded my feelings or sneered at me, and it had caused more than one break up in my life. Only Drix had ever stood by my side. “It’s not technically my watch yet. I’m holding onto it while my dad’s in prison. I wanted something tangible that I could touch when I’m missing him.”

“Aww, Foxy.” He sighs and leans into me. “I know I could google it, or even ask Drix, but… I kinda wanted to hear it from you. What happened; how did your dad end up in prison in the first place?”

This is the part I hate, the disbelieving, the lack of faith. “Remember when I told you my dad got a second job so he didn’t have to be home and deal with my mom or go to Sunday dinners?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, he took a job working for a security company. They had different locations they’d assign him, and he’d patrol the place during the off hours. After I’d left for college, he’d been assigned to a warehouse that needed nightly security, and it became his permanent location. I guess the place still had a night and weekend crew, but it was scaled down, you know? And yeah, at the end of my second year I got a call that my dad and everyone working that shift had been arrested.”

Holds doesn’t say anything while I gear up to finish, but I can’t go on. “For what, Jameson? You can tell me.”

Tears spring to my eyes from the warmth in his voice. “Drugs. Apparently, the police had been staking out the place for a while because they suspected some kind of drug ring running out of there with the skeleton crew and its supervisor.”

“So it sounds like your dad was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, maybe,” he says hopefully.

I nod. “It’s so fucked up, Holden. My uncle knew that place was under surveillance. Hell, by then my brother and cousin were fresh out of the academy, and I’m sure they were discussing this stuff at Sunday dinner, whether they should’ve been or not. No one warned my dad, and they knew he wasn’t a drug dealer. He would never be involved in anything like that, not in any way.” Standing up, I stomp across my room to lean my hands onto my dresser, dropping my head in frustration. “When I asked my mom what his bail was set at, she said it didn’t matter; we wouldn’t be getting him out. She told me that she wouldn’t support a heroin distributor and soil our family name. I went to my uncle and begged for him to help, but he wouldn’t. He said, ‘It’s about time you realize your ol’ man’s a worthless piece of shit; you’re the only one who doesn’t get it.’ When I went to Jovany, he suggested I do like him and keep my head down and do as I was told.”

“Oh, Foxy.” Even hearing movement behind me, I’m startled to feel Holds’s strong arms wrap around me from behind as he lays his cheek to my back.

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Holds. I know he didn’t. And no one believed me. I came home from school and went to the jail once he was allowed visitors. My proud father looked so broken and alone staring at me from the other side of the glass; he’d aged years in just a couple of weeks, wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead that hadn’t been there before, gray popping up all through his thick hair. The first thing he said when he picked up the phone was, ‘Son, I swear I didn’t know,’ and I told him I already knew that. My father was so good with us as kids, he adored me and Jovany. He was always the first parent to help volunteer. There’s no way he’d ever get involved with drugs, something that would hit the streets and potentially ruin young kids’ lives.”

“So what did you do?” he whispers.

“There was nothing I could do. I was too young, no money. I hadn’t reconnected with Drix yet, so I didn’t even have any support. It was this huge thing in the local papers, so all of my so-called friends from high school only cared because they wanted the inside scoop, but they all believed my dad was guilty. How could they not? My family is part of the law around here, and they’d turned their backs on him. Nothing could make him look more guilty than that. Until he did something that did.”

“What?” His arms tighten more, holding me up as I choke on my grief.

“He took a plea bargain. He told me that he’d never get a fair trial and it was the best way. The amount of drugs they’d found and the charges that were brought against them, well, he could have ended up going away for a minimum of twenty-five years. There was information the prosecutors needed about the coming and going and the schedule of the supervisors. If my dad agreed to testify to everything he’d seen, they’d only give him ten years.”

Holds’s head pops off my back. “That makes no sense, not if he didn’t have any major details pertinent to the case. I’m a vet and even I know that. Why would they give him a deal like that for useless information?”

Spinning around, I stare down at him. “Exactly.”

“Foxy, what were you in college for?”

A little surprised at the sudden turn in conversation, I answer honestly, “I either wanted to be a teacher or a counselor. I hadn’t really decided, yet. Why do you ask?”

“So it was after all this happened with your dad that you decided to be a cop, wasn’t it?” I nod my head. “That makes sense now. I could never figure out why you would purposely subject yourself to being around your family. It’s not like you hadn’t already known for years you weren’t their favorite person. But… you wanted to make a difference, didn’t you? A real difference?”

“I grew up knowing how important law enforcement was. I was so proud when I was a kid to have family who took out the bad guys, you know? I thought my uncle was a freaking superhero when I was little with his gun and badge, chasing down bad guys and putting them away. But as I got older, I heard things—they were little, and I’m not insinuating my uncle’s ever been on the take or anything, but… it was enough to know that there’s corruption in the police department.”

Holds snorts. “There’s corruption everywhere, Foxy.”

I nod again with a small smile. “I know, but while I was finishing college, the more I thought about my dad being in jail—losing him for the next ten years—the more I thought about other kids who may have lost a parent from the system being broken. Then I remembered when I was little, how cool I thought it was that a man with a badge brought the bad people to justice. It made me realize that being a cop was another way I could help kids.”

“Help put the bad parents away and help keep the good ones out, right?”

Searching Holds’s face, nothing has changed. His sapphire blue eyes are still warm and caring. Looking down at his hand, I see him rubbing my father’s pocket watch between his fingers, almost reverently. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, Foxy. If you say your dad is innocent, then he’s innocent. You choosing to subject yourself to hell to protect and defend the public proves that.” He steps back into my space. “What’s wrong?” he asks as the tears begin to slip slowly down my face.

“Your brother’s the only person who’s ever believed me before. The only one who hasn’t tried to make me feel stupid for supporting my father. No one knows but him that I write to my dad and go to see him. I’m sure my uncle actually knows, but there’s nothing he can do about it. I earned my place in the department by the books.”

Folding me in his strong arms, I feel the impression of the pocket watch against my back. Holds places gentle kisses on my neck and under my ear before whispering, “I’m so glad you and Drix have had each other, Foxy. And don’t you ever doubt you have me now, too. You and your dad.”

We’re late getting to Drix’s room, but he doesn’t say a word after he takes in my pale, tear-stained face. When he reaches for his brother’s hand and jerks him down to hug him, I hear the soft thank yous that pass between them. As they break apart and smile at me, one smugly and the other with an emotion I can’t name, I realize that having the Weston brothers in my corner may be all I need.

---