Truthseeker

“Is?” Lara asked, bemused. “Is gay, or is a fairy?”

“Either, take your pick.” Dickon gri

“Well, then.” Lara tipped her head against the window, watching through half-lidded eyes as streetlights and other cars whisked by. “He must be a fairy. Does he have any family?”

“He mentions a brother sometimes. I’ve never met him. I get the idea they don’t see each other a lot, maybe because they’re on opposite sides of the ocean. David came over here years ago, s’why you only hear the accent if he really turns it on.” Dickon pulled onto Lara’s street and squinted through the windshield at the apartment buildings rising up around them. “So how come he left early?”

“It’s the last building before the corner. He made a shocking proposal,” Lara added after a moment. “And then he left so I could think about it.”

“No shit?” Dickon pulled up in front of Lara’s building and rolled his window down as she climbed out of the truck. “What’d he do, ask you to run away with him?”

“Something like that.”

Dickon whistled. “I didn’t know he had it in him. So what do you think? Go

Lara shook her head, waving as he pulled away again. “Truth is, I haven’t decided yet.”

Eight

The night passed in restless sleep, disturbed by Dafydd’s anxious request. She woke early, unrested, to watch the sunrise, and answered an early-morning call with the feeling that she’d expected it; that she’d gotten up early so she might be awake when it came.

But it wasn’t Dafydd ap Caerwyn who called, but rather a friend from one of the meetings, apologetic and hopeful all at once: “Hi, Lara, it’s Ruth. I’m supposed to lead the meeting at Our Lady of Victories this morning, but both my kids woke up covered with chicken pox and their dad’s never had it so he’s been quarantined, and I know it’s Sunday, but I was wondering—”

“I’m not a recovering addict, Ruth,” Lara reminded her gently. “I shouldn’t be leading meetings.”

“I know, I know, but they like you, and most of it’s about listening anyway, and Becky can’t do it because she’s got family in town over the weekend, and, well, please? They won’t mind, not just this once.”

“You called because you knew I’d say yes,” Lara said with teasing rancor. “The meeting’s at … nine?”

“You are an angel of goodness. It’s at nine thirty, and the pastor usually unlocks the parish center doors for me at nine so I can get things set up. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine. I’ll be there. I hope the kids feel better soon.” Lara hung up thinking the meeting was more blessing than bother. It would give her something besides Dafydd to think about for a few hours, and listening to other people work through their problems often gave her insight into her own. She suspected that was part of the reason people became psychologists, though Dafydd had detailed the reasons for her own degree accurately. Practicing psychology had never been her plan. She’d only wanted a better foundation for understanding those who were fundamentally unlike her.

Which, she admitted wryly, was very nearly everyone. Glad for the distraction, she got dressed and caught a bus to the church. It wasn’t one of the usual locations she visited; after the first few months she had realized her regular presence stifled meeting participants. The occasional prod toward greater truthfulness was easier to handle than a constant edgy fear that basic honesty wasn’t enough. A little of Lara went a long way; it was something she’d learned early and still worried about. Kelly and a few others had adapted to, or didn’t care about, her pedantry, but in a delicate social situation like the meetings, it was better for Lara to be a periodic visitor rather than a regular. There were i

A blocky man with just enough grown-out fuzz to suggest he shaved his head to avoid obvious male pattern baldness got to his feet as she approached the church. “Miss Jansen?”

“Please, it’s Lara. And you’re Pete, right?” Lara shook his hand, smiling. “I remember you from the last time I was here. How’s it going?”

“Sixteen weeks, three days. That meeting you were at was my first. It’s not easy, Miss … Lara. My parole officer comes to these things to make sure I’m staying the course. No flippin’ pressure. And he’s an asshole.”

Lara laughed. “All the more reason to prove him wrong by sticking with it. Ruth didn’t tell me she’d have someone meet me. Thanks. It’s nice to see a friendly face.”

“It’s no problem, I live around the corner. Hey, Pastor.” Pete left Lara behind as a slight older man came up the road, a ring of keys in hand. “This is Lara Jansen, she’s ru

“Ah, the poor woman. Nice to meet you, Miss Jansen. The door will lock behind you when you leave, so just tidy up a bit and you’ll be set when you’re done.” He let them into a chilly open space littered with community projects, then departed still clucking over Ruth’s misfortune. Pete turned the heat on as Lara pulled chairs into a circle and blew warm air over her fingers.

“I should have brought coffee for everyone. Maybe next time.”

“It warms up fast,” Pete promised. “I know you’re not the regular leader, Miss … Lara, but I wonder if you’d take a minute to talk to my parole officer? He never believes me, he likes someone else to tell him I’m staying dry. I don’t know how they’d know if I lied, but that’s just how he is.”

“Sixteen weeks, three days,” Lara said comfortably. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sorry he doesn’t believe you. That must be a little undermining.”

Pete shrugged. “The guys believe me, that’s what counts.”

“It’s mostly what counts, anyway, hm?” Lara said to the faint discordant note in his voice, and he threw her a wry look that turned into another shrug.

“Mostly. Like I said, he’s an asshole and, I mean, he’s my parole officer, shouldn’t really matter what he thinks, but it kind of does. I got in over my head when I was nineteen, a bunch of stupid shit and I deserved to go to jail, but I straightened up. The meetings are a condition of my parole, but I want to be here, you know?” He went on, comfortable honesty in his litany that didn’t end as others arrived. He greeted them, introduced Lara, and left her smiling at his ease. Ruth had probably noticed already, but Pete would—did, in fact—make a good group leader, taking over most of the duties that Lara was in theory there to provide.

The only pall came near the end, when a chiseled blond man stepped into the meeting room. Pete’s good nature faltered briefly and the others glanced toward the door, then subtly straightened and lost the edge of humor that had sustained them. Lara glanced from one suddenly tense face to another, then touched Pete’s shoulder as she got up to talk to the newcomer. He put his hand out, and without bothering to keep his voice down as she approached, said, “Officer Rich Cooper. You’re not the usual leader.”

“Lara Jansen. Ruth’s kids have the chicken pox, so I’m standing in today. Do you mind if we step just outside the door so we don’t disturb everyone?” Lara shook his hand but walked outside, happy for once to do away with the pretense of polite behavior and insist, through action, that the officer oblige her. “Pete said you’d be dropping by. He’s doing very well. He’ll be a group leader if he wants to be, I think.”

Cooper scowled over his shoulder as they left the community center, then scowled at her, though the expression smoothed over as if he was reminding himself that he was one of the good guys.