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By all accounts it was an average spring day on the weekend: she had just showered and changed into a set of clean clothes, her youngest son was upstairs, and Blazey was sulking in her basket after being sprayed by water for chewing on the kitchen stool. The only one unaccounted for was Barley--to her pleasant surprise, he'd managed to schedule an interview with someone who might actually be willing to hire a fifteen-year-old. Barley had dressed in the nicest shirt and jeans he owned, eager to start working a job and making his own money--although he'd attempted to leave his hair the way it was, which Laurel wouldn't have. Over his many, many protests she had dragged him into the kitchen and combed his hair to the side. She knew Barley didn't like it styled that way, but he needed to learn that when going to meet with a potential employer, presentation was important. Later she wouldn't be able to remember where exactly Barley had applied--not in light of what happened next.
Barley rode on his old bicycle to make it to his job interview. Laurel had offered to take him herself, but since Ian was still too young to stay home by himself, they would've had to take him with them. Ian had been reluctant to be dragged out and forced to wait in the vehicle for who-knew-how-long, so Barley assured them that he'd be perfectly fine going by himself. So he left...and about an hour or so later Blazey had started yipping excitedly. As Laurel had come to learn, that meant someone had arrived outside, and indeed the doorbell rang. She looked up from the book she was reading, then set it aside and stood, walking to the door and adjusting her glasses. When she opened it, she gasped. There, standing on the front porch with a sour look on his face, was her son. And right next to him, a hand on his shoulder and looking equally disgruntled, was a centaur policeman.
"Barley?" she asked, gaping in disbelief at the scene in front of her.
Barley opened his mouth, but the officer spoke first. "I take it you're Mrs. Lightfoot?"
"Yes, wh-what...what's going on?" she stammered.
"Well, your son here--"
"Thank you so much for dropping me off," Barley interrupted, giving the officer a grin that stretched a bit too wide. He shrugged off his hand and started to squeeze past his mother. "I'm sure you've got places to go and people to see--"
Without taking her eyes off the policeman's face she reached back and grabbed the back of Barley's shirt, holding him in place. He wisely stopped talking.
"Won't you come in, Officer..."
"Bronco," the centaur supplied politely, "And thank you, ma'am."
Laurel gave Barley a sharp look and pointed to the couch. He looked like he wanted to argue, but seemed to decide against it and complied with her silent demand, his shoulders slumping. Blazey hopped into his lap the second he sat down, her tail wagging and her eyes adoring. She was clearly unaware of the tense atmosphere, though it was yet to be seen if obliviousness would always be a personality trait of hers or if it was simply because she was very young. Laurel stepped aside to allow Officer Bronco to enter, then closed the door. She gestured to the armchair across from the couch.
"Feel free to take a seat if you li..." her voice trailed off as she remembered the officer's extra legs, which would surely make sitting in any of these chairs difficult for him. She was about to retract what she said and suggest something else, but he surprised her by sitting down in it immediately, his front legs still straight to keep the front half of his body propped up. She didn't see how he could feel comfortable like that, but he didn't look bothered at all. Deciding not to question it, she walked over to the couch and sat down next to Barley, who was playing with Blazey's paws absent-mindedly. "So would either of you like to tell me what this is all about?" she asked.
Officer Bronco cleared his throat. "Well, ma'am, are you aware of the penalties that can be declared on someone committing grand theft auto?"
Laurel's eyes widened to such an extent that in any other circumstances it would've been comical. Her mouth opened, but at first no words came out. Then she directed her attention to Barley, who was already shaking his head in protest. "Grand theft auto?!" Blazey leaped off of Barley's lap and bolted from the room in alarm.
"No, no!" Barley said vehemently, casting a quick scowl at the policeman before settling his hands on her shoulders with a reassuring smile. "It was actually grand borrowed auto!"
Laurel stared. "Grand...borrowed...auto," she repeated flatly.
"Yep! You know I was on my way to my job interview, right?"
"Of course!"
"Well...do you remember when you told me the other day to check the tires on my bike because they were looking a little...wilty?"
"I believe what I said was that they looked like they were starting to go flat," Laurel corrected him with a frown.
Barley gave a half-hearted chuckle and twiddled his fingers sheepishly. "Well..."
"You didn't do it, did you?" Laurel guessed, crossing her arms.
"I was going to, but I forgot!" Barley answered defensively. He scratched his head, then seemed to remember the hairstyle it was sporting. "Anyway..." He ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to get it back to how he normally wore it. "...the front tire did go flat, and I didn't have any money on me for a bus trip. And I needed to make it to the interview on time!"
"So what happened?" Laurel asked in growing dismay.
"He ended up at the cafe where I was on break, madam," the officer spoke.
"Hey, I told you," Barley said, turning in his seat to face him, "I was gonna give it back as soon as I was done with it! My mother here--" He patted Laurel's shoulder. "--did not raise a thief!"
"It's still against the law--" Officer Bronco started.
"Against the law to steal a vehicle!" Barley countered, "It doesn't say anything about borrowing one!"
"It does if you don't ask the owner before you take it, and even if you had--!"
"Wait," Laurel said, interrupting both of them. They fell silent as their words sank in. "You took a police officer's car?!" she screeched.
"Temporarily!" Barley stressed, "Mom, I was in a hurry, I wanna start working and learning real skills, not the boring stuff they drone on and on about at school!"
"Barley, that's not a--"
"I was gonna leave a note!"
That made Laurel pause. "Huh?"
"Yeah, Officer Bronco here wasn't in his car at the time, so I figured I'd leave him a note!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. "I thought that if I let him know that I wasn't going to keep it," he emphasized those words with a withering look at the officer, who gave him an unamused look in return, "then it wouldn't count as stealing!" He unfolded it--grimacing as a bit of the bottom of the paper was torn--and handed it to Laurel, who pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and began to read.
Dear Mr./Mrs. Police Officer,
My name is Sir Barley Lightfoot and I need your car to make it to my job interview now that my bike is busted. Fear not--I will return it safely the second my interview is done! Here's my cell phone number if you have any questions.
P.S. I just realized I'll have my phone off while I'm inside, so if you come out before I come back here's the number of Laurel Lightfoot, aka my mom. She will totally understand if you explain everything to her! :)
He was so grounded. Laurel found herself massaging her temple.
"Young man, you're lucky I came out when I did," Officer Bronco said sternly, "With all the trouble you were having, I would've been amazed if you'd even made it out of the parking lot!"
"Hey, I would've figured it out!" Barley insisted. Then his eyebrows furrowed and he rubbed his chin. "Eventually..."
At Laurel's questioning glance, Officer Bronco explained. "The driver's seat of my vehicle automatically moves back in order for the bottom half of my body to fit inside. And that's not a feature you can adjust, either; my car was built specifically with four-legged creatures in mind."
"It didn't matter how tight I held onto the steering wheel," Barley said, "I just kept sliding backwards--and there's no seatbelts either!"
"Well, there's a reason centaurs are exempt from the seatbelts law. Simply put, they just never figured out how seatbelts could be safely or properly applied to us," Officer Bronco admitted.
Laurel hummed in acknowledgement when she took a closer look at the back of note, where the fragment of paper that had been torn off was now sticking. She peeled it back a little to reveal a little white lump. "What is this?" she asked in puzzlement.
"Well, I was gonna stick my note on the lamppost where the car was, but I didn't have any tape on me," Barley said nonchalantly, "But then I remembered one of the most important rules of Quests of Yore--that on a quest, you have to use what you've got."
Laurel arched an eyebrow. "And what did you have?"
"Gum!" he responded proudly.
Laurel tossed the note away with a disgusted yelp. Just then she heard footsteps approaching from the second floor, and she turned her head to see her youngest son beginning to make his way downstairs.
"Hey, Mom, do you know whatever happened to the..." the twelve-year-old's voice trailed off as he noticed Barley's presence, and he stopped halfway down the steps. Barley waved at his little brother enthusiastically. Then Ian's gaze rotated to where the policeman was still sitting, and the color drained from his face.
"Well, hello there," Officer Bronco greeted with a small smile, "How are--"
"It wasn't my fault!" Ian burst out, startling everyone in the room, "Or I guess it was, but it was an accident, I didn't think the fire would get that big! I didn't even know pots and pans could be flammable, and the window was already broken, please, I don't wanna go to jail, I don't want to fight with a shiv--!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa!" the centaur cut in, his expression utterly baffled, "I'm not here because of any fire, kiddo."
Ian's jaw clicked shut, and he blinked a few times. "You're not?"
"No."
Laurel could truly feel the headache that she had spent the entirety of this conversation suppressing, while her older son just looked intrigued.
Ian gnawed on his lip, his grip tightening on the banister. "This isn't about...frogs...either...?"
"Nope."
"...Or s-sea serpent that m-m-might have got lost?"
"I'm not arresting you, bud."
"...Oh..." Ian said meekly.
"But," Laurel spoke, exasperated, "you may have some explaining to do." Her heel began to bounce on the floor in agitation as Barley stood and marched over to the stairs.
"Yeah," he agreed excitedly, "I wanna know more about this fire!"
Ian's eyes darted around in several different directions as though looking for an escape route, and he gulped. "I gotta go," he squeaked and walked hurriedly back up the stairs. Barley wasn't willing to leave the subject be, however, and he followed his brother.
"What were you doing with pots and pans?"
"Home ec stuff..."
"You broke a window?"
"No!"
"Aw, that would've been awesome...what was that about frogs?"
"Barley!"
"Did you really lose a sea serpent?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"Wait--was it the serpent in your science classroom?!"
"I dunno, maybe! Okay, yes!"
"Our little Iandore is growing up to be such a mischief maker, I'm so happy!"
"Barley, stop...!"
Laurel and the officer listened as her sons' voices faded into Ian's bedroom, and she removed her glasses and set them on the cushion that Barley had vacated. She buried her face in her hands with a groan. A part of her wanted to stay that way forever, if only to hide how her face must have turned purple from mortification by now, but her "guest" was still here. She looked back up to see that Officer Bronco was still sitting there, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.
"I, uh..." Officer Bronco cleared his throat and stood, "I guess I should be going now."
"I am so sorry about all this," Laurel said regretfully, also standing.
"It's all right, madam," the policeman replied, rubbing his eyes, "If you want the truth, it was partly my fault--maybe if I wasn't running off of only an hour and a half of sleep I would've had the sense to take the keys out of the ignition and lock my door."
At his words Laurel took a closer look at his face, and only now did she register the heavy bags under his eyes. "Have you had anything?" she asked in concern, "Food, or caffeine...?"
"That's what I was doing when your son and I had our little run-in," Officer Bronco said with a nod, "Just getting myself some coffee."
"Were you at Gracie's?" Laurel asked, retrieving her glasses and putting them back on.
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"Then that simply won't cut it," she stated, putting her hands on her hips, "I insist you let me make you some before you go."
The centaur looked at her in surprise. "Oh, that's awful nice of you, ma'am, but I couldn't--"
Laurel was already waving a hand dismissively. "It's perfectly fine--I personally like to go to Gracie's for their hot cocoa...but their coffee is terrible."
"Yeah, I can't argue with that..." Officer Bronco conceded.
Several minutes passed, in which Laurel made a fresh mug of coffee for the policeman and taking a couple of migraine pills for herself when he wasn't looking. They also chatted about trivial things; Officer Bronco mentioned some consistencies he had noted about the routes he normally patrolled, as well as some differences between patrolling during the day and at night. Laurel listened with interest, and contributed with some random facts about her neighborhood, such as how it changed over the years, and how in other ways it stayed the same. After a while the conversation shifted back to Barley, with Laurel telling the officer about his passions and his positive qualities, mainly his fierce devotion to his family. In spite of her anger at Barley's lack of judgment today, she wanted to stress that he wasn't a bad kid--he was one of the best she ever could've asked for.
"He never struck me as a bad kid," said Officer Bronco, "I believe him when he said he was planning to return my car."
"You do?" Laurel asked, relieved.
"Sure! The thing is, though, if he does something like this again, sooner or later he'll end up with an officer who won't be willing to hear him out."
Laurel sighed in dread at the thought, knowing that he was right. "I'll talk to him," she promised.
"I'll admit I was pretty upset at the whole situation, but I know Barley didn't mean any harm. Hopefully his dad won't be too angry when he learns about this."
Laurel felt her heart skip a beat, and she looked away.
He could tell immediately from her somber expression that he'd said something wrong. "Is his father...?"
"He passed away," she answered quietly. She took both of their glasses and carried them to the sink. It was a moment before either of them spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Lightfoot," the policeman said sincerely.
She turned the faucet on and rinsed the mug out. "It was a long time ago," she said softly, closing her eyes briefly at the thought of Wilden. The pain from losing her husband had dulled with the years...but it had never gone away completely. She knew in her heart that it never would. But she had made peace with what had happened, and at least now she could accept the fact that Wilden hadn't lived long enough to meet their second child without crying. That was what he would've wanted her to do, wasn't it?
She couldn't help but wonder what Wilden would've made of all this.
She finished her task and walked back over to the officer. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked him.
"I think so," he responded.
"I suppose you'll need to head back out now?"
"Definitely." He turned to leave.
"Be sure to get plenty of rest tonight, okay? You're no good to anyone when you're running on fumes."
"I'll remember that," Officer Bronco nodded, "Thank you very much for the coffee."
Laurel smiled, "You're welcome." She began to walk him to the door.
"I hope Barley gets that job."
Laurel's smile disappeared, replaced with a look of confusion. "I thought Barley didn't make it to his interview--you stopped him from taking your car."
"I did, but after I talked to him I drove him there myself."
Laurel's eyes widened in shock. After catching a boy trying to commandeer his vehicle, he would be willing to do something like that for him? "Thank you, Officer Bronco" she said in amazement. Because she just knew that there weren't that many people who would've done the same in his position.
"Ah, well..." he said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He was suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "I made it clear to him that I was gonna bring him back here as soon as he was out--I don't think he wanted to talk to you while I was here."
"No, I imagine he wouldn't," she said dryly. They stopped at the doorway. "Be careful out there," she told him. Before he could reply, they heard Ian's disbelieving shriek, so loud they could hear it all the way from downstairs.
"YOU TOOK A COP'S CAR?!"
Laurel winced as Officer Bronco awkwardly tipped his hat to her and mumbled, "Have a good day, Mrs. Lightfoot." She managed a half-smile as she waved to him and shut the door.
In the end, Barley wouldn't get the job. Laurel would see how disappointed he was, but he would take it in stride, just as he'd always done. She would be proud of him for moving forward, for knowing that he'd done the best he could. And although it would be at least a few years before she encountered Colt Bronco again, she never forgot about him. She would remember his earnest nature, his politeness, and how she found him to be charming, in a somewhat clumsy way. She would be pleased to meet him again, this time under normal circumstances--a simple trip to the grocery store on a day when they both had off. But all that would happen much later.
Right now, she was going to have a long talk with her sons.