Hardwired Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  Award-winning teacher Clary Stone is home for the summer, helping her family and recovering from a personal tragedy. She loves her Wisconsin city on Lake Michigan, hoping to find what’s left of herself in the familiar warmth and safety. At first, the city is the same, but she soon finds things have changed. Clary becomes involved in parts of the town that she’s never seen or known before. The summer’s odd journey leads her to the city’s homeless shelter for small children.

  Leefe Ellis manages the shelter and is totally unlike anyone Clary’s ever met. Homeless since the age of three, Leefe reveals another side of life with remarkable courage, honesty, and humanity. Working side by side with the little children, both realize they are fellow travelers, but neither has met another person as completely different as they are from each other. It’s often confusing, sometimes frightening, but always fascinating.

  Hardwired

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Hardwired

  © 2015 By C.P. Rowlands. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-395-0

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: June 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  By the Author

  Lake Effect Snow

  Collision Course

  Jacob’s War

  Hardwired

  Acknowledgments

  Sometimes a book just falls into your head and won’t go away. Five years ago, while researching for something else entirely, I kept seeing little children in various places without adults. As a mother, I asked questions and discovered many of them were homeless. Of course I was aware of the homeless, but I’d never met and talked with them. And so this book began in my mind.

  The people I met were incredible. No matter the age or gender, race or religion, they all come together over this issue, and they work hard. The police were critical, as were the amazing teachers. This book is only a tiny part of the growing problem of childhood homelessness and the huge impact of education.

  Thanks to Bold Strokes Books, Rad, and Sandy Lowe for helping me get the story on the page. And the best-ever editor, Cindy Cresap, who helped me formulate the story in a coherent manner.

  To Nikki Grimes, Barrett, Judy Currier, Amber Jost-Mosesson, and Glory, a huge thanks for all the reads, critical suggestions, and support.

  Dedication

  To all the little children.

  Chapter One

  “Crap.” Clary Stone pulled the steering wheel hard left. She’d almost missed Uncle Joe and Aunt Maureen’s driveway. She checked out the big brick house in front of her. The garage her father helped Uncle Joe rebuild stood firm, as did the side entrance to the kitchen, and the one-of-a-kind widow’s walk on the roof. The ivy on the brick looked healthy, and Aunt Mo’s flowers were bright. It fit her memory perfectly.

  She stretched behind the car and looked at her childhood neighborhood for the first time in four years. The grand old houses stood proudly between the city and the lake, their June-green grass spilling to the curb as far as she could see. Across the street, the beach ran all the way to Lake Michigan.

  The lake looked inviting. She kicked off her shoes and wandered to the beach, listening to the waves and gulls. Burying her feet in the warm sand, she closed her eyes, smiling. A noise made her turn just as arms grabbed her, and she was scooped into a big hug, lifting her off the ground. The momentum carried them a few feet in the sand and, laughing, they almost fell.

  “Jesse Lowden, All-State miler, 1989.” Clary grinned at her tall, blond, still-beautiful childhood friend, Jesse. “How’s the running these days, or did you get old?”

  “Ha, I’m just beginning. You’re jealous or still jealous.”

  “In your dreams, Lowden. Yuk, you’re all sweaty, and why are you running out here by the lake? You’re miles from your house.”

  “We moved, bought a house down the street.”

  “Here, in our old neighborhood?”

  “We bought your parents’ house.” Jesse pulled her toward Maureen’s driveway.

  Clary turned toward her childhood home down the street as if it had somehow moved.

  “The man that bought it from your parents got transferred.” Jesse pointed at Clary’s car.

  “Look at you. You left your car door open. C’mon, we can do your bags in one trip.”

  Before Clary could say more, Jesse was already at Maureen’s side door with an armload of bags. Clary took everything from the front seat and followed Jesse up the steps and into the kitchen. Footsteps shuffled above her as Clary opened windows in the living room. She’d always loved the layout of this house. It was a straight shot from the living room at the front of the house, into the spacious kitchen, and then onto the deck overlooking the backyard.

  “Piper’s fixed a meal for you,” Jesse said and hit speed dial on her phone. “Hey, Clary’s home and…” She looked at Clary, eyebrows raised in a question. “An hour?” Clary nodded, and Jesse continued. “Yes, I told her about her house. Okay, I’m on my way.” She hung up and took a long drink of water. “Time for me to help and, as you said, I need a shower. Glad you’re home. Thanks.” She held up the water, hugged Clary again, and was gone.

  Clary turned slowly in the big kitchen. The familiar scent of spice and flowers surrounded her, and family photos were still on the wall. She adjusted the wooden sign above the stove with the word Family painted on it. Her cousin Sharon had done it for Aunt Mo when they were in grade school. She looked back at the sign and did the mental calculations. Sharon had been dead sixteen years.

  Clary walked back to the deck doors and looked a
t Aunt Mo’s flowers. She’d take some flowers to the cemetery. She’d missed it the last time she was home.

  *

  Her heart picked up. Her childhood backyard looked the same as Clary stepped off the sidewalk to the lawn. Ragged layers of barbeque smoke hung in the air blending into the smell of freshly cut grass.

  “Come here.” Piper grabbed her for a hug with a big smile. “I’ll bet you’re worn out.”

  “I am and really, really hungry. Thanks for this.”

  “How was the drive?”

  “Seven hours of pure fun…I said never. I’m not getting back into that car until I absolutely have to.”

  “Ha.” Piper looked amused. She handed Clary a bottle of water and began to toss the salad energetically.

  “I forgot to ask if you missed us,” Jesse teased her, pointing a handful of spoons at her. “You go months in Iowa without calling or e-mail, not to mention that we haven’t seen you in four years.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve stayed in touch and called when I knew I was coming home.”

  Jesse clattered plates around the table. “If you don’t want to stay at Maureen and Joe’s, you can have your old room here. I didn’t know if you’d want to stay in Sharon’s room.”

  “Thanks, but no. I promised Mo that I’d stay at their house and take care of Mojo’s.” She turned to look at the food stand on the beach across the street.

  Jesse paused. “You didn’t tell me you were taking care of Mojo’s.”

  “You didn’t tell me you bought my parents’ house. My house.” Clary scanned the familiar yard and house, glad to see the big oak tree right where it belonged. This was the best neighborhood in the world.

  “I wanted to tell you in person.” Jesse turned back to the silverware and napkins.

  Clary sat next to Piper with a deep, tired breath. The food smelled so good. She ran her fingers across the freshly varnished wood of the table that had been here as long as she had. Aunt Maureen was her mother’s sister, and she’d spent a lot of time in that house down the block. So had Jesse. She read the print on Jesse’s black T-shirt, South Port Police, and counted time. It was Jesse’s sixteenth year as a cop. Or was it her seventeeth? “How are the jobs, both of you?”

  “Insane, and Mojo’s isn’t what it was when you and I ran that place. Times have changed, Clary.” Jesse turned, assessing her. “You’ve lost too much weight, but I like the new multi-colored thing you’ve got going with your hair, the brown and the gold.” She waved a fork at her. “You must be having sex on a regular basis.”

  “What are you? Twelve?” Clary frowned at her.

  “God, Jesse.” Piper rolled her eyes. “Go ahead and hit her,” she said to Clary.

  “My hairdresser is my best friend.” Clary looked down. “And the other is, as usual, none of your business.”

  “Don’t pout.” Jesse sighed. “I thought you came home because of the mess with Robin.”

  “No, I came home for Aunt Mo. Mom and Dad had been planning this trip since January, and then, at the last minute, Maureen and Joe decided to go with them. It’s good for all of them.” Actually, Clary had not been planning on coming home, but Aunt Maureen had called, and she’d swim the English Channel for that woman.

  “How are you?”

  Clary turned away. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “Knock on wood. I haven’t had an anxiety attack since March. I’m surviving.”

  “Where are they, Robin and the little girl?”

  “They went to Oklahoma, and she married him. I’m past Robin, but Hannah’s another matter.”

  “Of course. You raised that little girl, but why did Robin leave? What happened?”

  “Not a clue.” Clary reached for the napkins. “Want to arrest her for impersonating a human being?”

  Jesse only looked impatient. “Didn’t you talk to her, afterward?”

  “No. She won’t talk to me.” Clary looked at Jesse for a long moment. “Can I just say it truly broke my heart and leave it at that? I’ve got my teaching. I’m fine.”

  “As the woman who’s known you forever, I get to remind you that one of the biggest lies in the world is I’m fine, but I’ll take your word for it.” Jesse shoved up from the chair. “I need a beer,” she said, and disappeared into the house.

  Clary watched her go. Her therapist had said to go through the years here and see what could be found. She looked over her shoulder at the beach and the lake one more time. What if coming home didn’t work?

  “I’m sorry.” Piper’s brown eyes were darker than usual. “She’s angry that Robin took Hannah and left you. She said you looked sad after she’d seen you earlier.”

  “No, only tired after all the hours on the road,” Clary said and turned to Piper. She liked this caring, smart woman and considered Jesse lucky to have found her.

  “How old is Hannah?”

  “You’ve forgotten. You and Jesse began dating the same year Robin and Hannah moved in with me. Hannah was only a few months old. She turned nine last month.”

  “I did forget. Time flies when you’re having fun,” Piper said with a wry grin.

  Clary firmly changed the subject. “That’s a beautiful salad. How on earth did you find corn on the cob this early in June?”

  It was fully dark by the time they finished the meal. Clary quit eating with a groan. “The real question is can I walk the half block back to Aunt Mo’s? Killer meal, Piper. The meat fell off the bone on those ribs.”

  “More,” Jesse said to Piper and held up her empty plate.

  “I’m never going to fill you up, am I?” Piper put the last of the ribs on Jesse’s plate. “Has she always had an appetite like this and never puts on a pound?”

  Clary grinned. “Ask Aunt Mo. She turned Jesse into an eating legend in this town.” She’d often felt the same, growing up around “Miss Best Body of the Known Universe,” Jesse Lowden.

  “How do you like the deck?” Jesse said. “We had it done before we moved in.”

  “When did you move in?”

  “Last March, officially.”

  “I like it,” Clary said. The brick patio had been here as long as she could remember, but the deck was a nice addition. “I love this place, and I’m glad you two have it. It’s like keeping it in the family.” A slight lake breeze pushed against her face, and she leaned back into her chair. The air was cooling and smelled like the lake, something she’d missed.

  “I always liked the wraparound porch,” Jesse said. “And the two swings. The man that bought it from your parents took them down, but I put them back up.”

  Clary shifted for a view of the porch. “Ah yes, the porch swings.” She and Jesse started laughing at the same time. “Howie McCardle,” they said together.

  “What happened with Howie?” Piper looked first at Jesse and then at Clary.

  “I didn’t know the little weasel was going to kiss me,” Clary said, still laughing.

  “She hauled off and hit him,” Jesse said to Piper, shaking her head. “He still asks about your right hook. Did you know he’s a detective and I work with him?”

  Clary merely raised her eyebrows at that information. She hadn’t known.

  “How did your school year end?” Piper turned to Clary. “Did you get what you wanted?”

  Clary hesitated. “Sort of.” In truth, the rules they’d laid on her because of her personal life were sharp as razors. Piper was a middle school principal, and if anyone would understand her predicament, it would be her.

  “How long have you taught in Iowa?” The question on Piper’s face told Clary that she’d caught her hesitation.

  “Ten years. I miss South Port, but I love the people and school system in Iowa. How about you? I’ve kept up with some of the news,” Clary said, referring to the current political turmoil in Wisconsin.

  “For all the bad and confusing things that have happened to us, one unexpected good thing came along.” Piper moved her plate to the side, resting on her elbows. “Rememb
er the alternative teaching you did in Chicago?”

  “Sure, first time it was tried. Why?”

  “Last February, a private company stepped up and offered money to run a similar program. We’re giving it a trial run this summer. I set it up as volunteer-only and had a good response. I waited until you came home to ask if you’d come in, talk to us about your experience, and maybe do a little consulting?”

  “What age are the kids?”

  “Most are twelve, and right now we have twenty-one registered. They remind me of the kids you told me about in Chicago.”

  Jesse stood, beginning to clear the table. Clary had never seen Jesse clean up after a meal in her life, and it was a nice surprise.

  “What school are you using?” Clary said, tracking Jesse’s trips in and out of the house.

  “Breakers, about five blocks from here.”

  “Our old grade school. You, me, and Sharon,” Jesse said, setting a bucket of Clary’s favorite vanilla-banana ice cream on the table. “The home of the famous purple wall.”

  Piper frowned at Jesse. “What are you talking about?”

  “They don’t have a purple wall. Now.” Clary began to laugh. “The last day of school for Sharon and Jesse, Sharon wrote the word ‘Fuck’ about a thousand times on the wall with purple marker, and Uncle Joe had to pay for a new paint job for the whole room. We younger kids only knew it was a bad word. A swear.”

  Jesse placed a pie on the table in front of her, and Clary looked up, surprised. It definitely was homemade.

  “What’s this? Okay, it’s a pie, but…” She looked at Piper, assuming she’d made the delicious-looking desert. Piper pointed at Jesse.

  “It’s my mother’s sour cream apple pie,” Jesse said.

  “Your mother made us a pie?”

  “No. I made it when I got up this morning, to celebrate the award you got this year.”