A Hero to Come Home To (27 page)

“Ah, I believe what we said was you were taking too much sh—crap from her,” Jessy interjected, making Therese drop her hands and smile faintly.

“I just thought she needed time. That was what the counselors and the chaplains and my parents and Paul’s parents all said. Do you know I got through the first year after Paul’s death with nothing more than an occasional sleeping pill? But since then, I’ve had to take antianxiety medication. Every time I walk into the house, my chest tightens, my heart races, and I can’t breathe.”

Carly had known about the medicine. She didn’t know it was directly tied to the kids.

“Send her to stay with Auntie Bennie for a few weeks.” Bennie pointed at herself with a grand gesture. “She’d be so happy to get away from all the rules that Mama Maudene raised me with that she’d be a whole different person when you got her back.”

“Rules don’t mean anything to her,” Therese muttered. “That’s part of the problem.”

“No, doll, rules without consequences don’t mean anything to her. Getting grounded or losing her cell for a week don’t mean nothing. Mama Maudene’s rules—they’ve got
consequences.
And that scrawny little girl of yours ain’t about to go toe to toe with Mama Maudene and win.”

“She’s right, Therese,” Marti spoke up. “There were never any consequences in our family. As long as we stayed out of our mother’s way, we could do anything we wanted. We thought it was cool at the time, but she didn’t do us any favors. And it wasn’t fun when I moved out of the house and found out that other people had expectations, even if my mother didn’t.”

“I have expectations,” Therese said quietly. “I expect her to be living somewhere else when the school year is over.”

That stunned everyone into silence again. They all knew, as Carly did, about her promise to Paul. They knew she felt as if she were failing him every day things weren’t all happiness and light. Carly couldn’t even imagine the number sending them away would do on Therese’s self-esteem.

Surprisingly, it was Jessy, who’d never shied from stating her blunt opinion of Abby and Jacob, who spoke up. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now, Therese. The kids are going out of town for a week, then you’ve got more than a month before school is out. That’s plenty of time to figure the right thing to do.” She looked around the group. “I think it’s time for cake and ice cream, and then another go-round on the stage. How about it, GI sisters?”

The others cheerfully agreed, and Lucy waved their waitress over as they all resettled. While their attention was on the list of desserts the woman recited from memory, Therese softly said to Carly, “My mind’s made up. But, hey, there’s never a bad time for cake and ice cream, right?”

Back in Tallgrass, Therese dropped everyone off at their vehicles in The Three Amigos lot, hugging Lucy and wishing her happy birthday, accepting hugs and promises of prayers from everyone else. By the time she parked the van outside her house, she was bone-tired.

The only lights on were the ones she’d left in the kitchen and the hallway. The kids were spending the night with Nicole and Liam. Jacob probably hadn’t said a word about this latest showdown, while Abby had surely spun it into some great drama where she was the victim of her evil stepmother’s evil ways.

Was she evil for wanting to send Paul’s daughter away? Was she selfish?

“I’m not their mother, their grandmother, their grandfather, their aunts, or their uncles,” she said fiercely as she climbed the steps and let herself inside. “I’m not their family
at all
.”

But she was their legal guardian. She would have to check with a lawyer at the judge advocate general’s office on post to find out how to go about finding them a new home.

A line from an old hymn ran through her mind.
And there will be peace in the valley for me.

Dear God, she needed peace.

She left the light burning in the kitchen, shut off the one in the hallway, and switched on the bulbs that illuminated the stairs. The house was quiet, but not peaceful yet. That wouldn’t come until long after it had been cleansed of Abby’s presence.

She’d just shut off the stair lights and reached her bedroom door when a sound below froze her: the front door opening, then softly closing again. She fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone and slowly forced herself to turn back the way she’d come. “I’m calling nine-one-one,” she said, her phone a bright spot in her hand.

The tall, lanky shadow stopped a few steps up. Even without the faint light from the kitchen, she would have recognized Jacob: his height and leanness, the way his head was ducked and tilted to one side, his shoulders hunched, his hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s me.”

Relief settled with a whoosh in her chest. “Does Mrs. McRae know you’ve sneaked out of the house?”

“No. If it comes up, Liam’ll tell her I’m in the bathroom or something.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably before looking up at her. “Abby didn’t mean to do—what she did.” He indicated the bedroom with a jerk of his head. “She was wrong, but…Are you all right?”

“I guess.” Putting the phone away, Therese sank to the top step, her arms folded across her middle. “Am I so horrible to live with, Jacob?”

She didn’t need to see to know his face had turned bright red. Talking with adults who weren’t coaches wasn’t one of his favorite or most comfortable things. He shifted back and forth a couple times, then, in stops and starts, climbed until only six steps separated them. There he slumped down, his back against the wall. “No. It’s just— She wants to live with Mom and Dad.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know. She knows. And if she can’t have both of ’em, then she wants to be with Mom.”

Mom, who’d given her up like a hobby she’d grown tired of. Heedless of her mascara, Therese rubbed her eyes wearily. “Do you want to live with your mom, too?”

He was silent a long time, though not still. His knee bounced and his fingers drummed a beat on the carpeted step. “I love my mom,” he said at last. “But she didn’t want us when we were little. Why would she want us now?”

He’s eleven
, Therese reminded herself, her heart aching,
and already so cynical
. And so right. Catherine wouldn’t want them unless they came with some real benefit to her. Maternal love and accepting responsibility for the lives she’d brought into the world weren’t enough for her.

Wishing he was close enough to touch—not a hug, she wouldn’t try that, but maybe ruffling his hair—she smiled sadly. “You know your dad wanted you. He was so thrilled when he found out you were coming to live with us.”

“I bet you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t thrilled, no, but I thought…I thought we could be a family. I never wanted to replace your mom…or your dad,” she added even more sadly. “But I thought we could be friendly and respect each other and even come to love each other.”

“So did…so did Dad. He told us that when we came.”

“He had such hopes for us all.”

Jacob grunted, then shifted on the steps to stare off into the living room. A little light filtered in the blinds, not enough to show the details, but she imagined his gaze was directed right at the fireplace where Paul’s photographs and the medals he’d earned were displayed.

After a long time, he made a choked sound, then demanded, “Why did he have to die?”

Hesitantly Therese moved down a few steps, then laid her hand gently on his arm. He didn’t relax or move toward her, but he didn’t flinch away, either. “I don’t know, Jacob.”

“Liam’s dad went and came back. All the kids at school—their dads and moms went and most of them came back. Why didn’t our dad? Our mom already didn’t want us. Why did we have to lose him, too?”

Her own choked sound escaped, and she raised one hand to find tears had slid from her eyes. “Sweetie, that’s probably the only question in the world that has absolutely no answer. No one knows why this person lives and that one dies. When I was six and my grandfather died, my grandmother told me it was because God needed him more than we did, and even then I knew that absolutely was not true, because no one needed him more than me. No one needed your dad more than us. We’ll never know why it happened. We just have to live with the fact that it did.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Me, neither.”

They sat that way a long time, her hand lightly on his arm, until he abruptly shuddered and pushed to his feet. He swiped at his face and said without looking at her, “I’d better get back over to Liam’s.”

“I can call and tell his mom you decided to stay here.”

“Nah. It’s not that far.” He took a few steps. “You can see from your bedroom window.”

At the bottom of the stairs, he called back, “I’ll lock up,” then let himself out and did so.

Therese stood and went to the bedroom window, watching him jog across the street and down two houses before disappearing into the shadows. For a long time she stood there, gazing out at their peaceful neighborhood, breathing deeply, feeling a little peaceful herself.

Maybe Abby hated her and was a lost cause, but Jacob…For the first time in a long time she had reason to be hopeful about Paul’s son.

W
hen she got home, Carly set a big foam take-out box on the kitchen table, pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then dialed Dane’s number. He answered on the third ring, the sound of a baseball game in the background. “Hi, is it too late?”

“Depends on what you want to do. To find shapes in the clouds in the sky? Yep. To catch the after-Christmas sales? Yeah.”

She made a miffed sound. “To share a piece of the best caramel cake I’ve ever had.”

“Not at all. How was the dinner?”

“Good. Fia, Jessy, and Marti do a mean take on ‘Feel Like a Woman,’ and Bennie—you haven’t met her yet—had the place in tears with her version of ‘Amazing Grace.’ The food was wonderful, and we had a really nice time.”

“But?”

She carried the water into the living room, kicked off her shoes, and curled up in the recliner. How was he able to hear that
but
in her voice when she barely heard it herself? “Therese had a really tough day, so she was really down. She made a difficult decision, and I’m afraid it’s the wrong one, but she’s got to live with it, you know.” She dragged in a deep breath. “Are you coming over?”

“I’m leaving right now.”

“Good.”
Maybe this time you’ll spend the night.

Surprised by the words, she blinked before awkwardly tacking on, “I’ll be, uh, waiting.”

Where had that come from? They’d kissed—a lot—but mostly hello and good-bye. They didn’t sit around and make out, but they weren’t hormone-driven kids. They were adults proceeding at their pace. They were in no rush. They could take their time, as if they had their entire lives ahead of them.

Besides, she hadn’t done a thing about losing those fourteen pounds. She wasn’t sure she was ready to be seen in her bare skin by anyone besides her gynecologist. She doubted her underwear even matched tonight, confirmed by a peek: cream-colored bra, pink bikinis with blue and purple dots.

She wasn’t sure she was ready to see another man in the bed she’d shared with Jeff. And she was nervous—more than nervous—about making love for the first time with only the second man ever.

All perfectly reasonable worries…
if
Dane had ever hinted that he wanted to have sex with her.
She
had invited him over, remember? Because she’d wanted to see him tonight if only for a few hours. Because she’d brought back that huge slice of cake as an excuse.

But if things happened to move that way…One thing she and Dane both knew too well was that life was short.

And a wise person lived accordingly.

She considered turning off some lamps and lighting some candles, changing underwear to something prettier and a bit sexier, refreshing her makeup or even putting on some perfume. Anything that might tempt him to do more than kiss.

In the end, she was making coffee when he knocked at the door. There was nothing special about tonight. She would see him tomorrow and probably the next day, too, and several more times before next weekend. And she would start a diet tomorrow.

When she opened the door, he greeted her with a sweet, satisfied smile. She imagined it was the way she greeted him each time. There was just something so
right
about being with him, some contentment and gratitude:
He’s here again and he’s happy to see me.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him, and rested his hands on her waist. “This is how you dress to go out with the girls?”

“Hey, I could wear this to work.” But she didn’t. The white denim skirt was long by a lot of standards, nearly reaching her knees, and hugged her hips and butt more snugly thanks to the fourteen pounds. Her shirt was orange, sleeveless, the top button just low enough to reveal some cleavage. Sandals and a wood-bead belt, along with dangly wood earrings, finished the outfit. A little more length, a little less boob, and
then
she could wear it to work.

He eased her closer, his hands skimming along her spine, bending his head to nuzzle her ear, the day’s growth of beard prickling and tickling. “You smell good.”

“I probably spilled some of that incredible beef gravy somewhere.” Her eyes fluttered shut when he reached her mouth and for an instant, she thought, yes, she
was
ready to be naked with this man, extra pounds, Jeff’s bed and all.

Then she simply stopped thinking for a while.

She experienced a moment of utter silence when he finished the kiss—no sound, no thought, no sensation, while she found her way back to reality. Looking as dazed as she felt, he turned her toward the kitchen and gently pushed her that way. “Show me this cake,” he said, his voice husky and heavy. “I want you to know that while you were enjoying incredible food with your friends, I was eating cold Bueno all alone in front of the TV.”

“Hey, the only Mexican fix I got before the club formed was Bueno. Besides, don’t you have a microwave?”

“That’s cute,” he said as he took out coffee mugs and began fixing their drinks. “You think a microwave is a substitute for fresh, hot food.”

“Don’t tease or I won’t share.” Using a pancake turner and a fork, she transferred the wedge-shaped slice of cake from its box to a dinner plate, then showed it to him. It was two huge layers, slathered with caramel frosting between, on the outside and on top.

They carried dessert into the living room and settled on the couch, mugs on the coffee table, plate balanced on his right knee. After totally agreeing with her how good the cake was, he asked, “What’s up with Therese?”

Carly repeated the story with a little knot in her gut.

“The kid slapped her. Wow.”

“I know. I’d be furious. I am furious. But Therese…she’s just…hollow. She says she’s not letting Abby live there anymore, that when school’s out, so is Abby.”

“And you think she’s acting in the heat of the moment.”

Carly took a last bite, then set her fork down, too stuffed to consider even another swipe of frosting. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“And you think she’s wrong.”

“Well, yes. Don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I can’t tell you how many heat-of-the-moment decisions saved my life or someone else’s.”

“But you’re talking combat.”

“Sounds like that’s what Therese and her stepdaughter are engaged in.” He ate another bite, too, before setting the plate on the table between their coffees. “We all get that the kid’s had some bad breaks, but has it occurred to you that, putting all the grief aside, she’s an angry, self-absorbed, bitter person who likes to make other people suffer?”

Actually, no, it hadn’t. Now she considered it. It was easy to blame Abby’s problems on her mother’s abandonment and her father’s death—wasn’t that enough to turn any sweet angel into a screaming banshee? But from what Therese had said, Abby had been no ray of sunshine before Paul died. She’d been happy when she got her way, sullen when she didn’t, and sometimes just plain mean. Was Therese bending over backward to accommodate not a grief-stricken child but a common-variety mean girl?

Dane took her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “I always figured I’d have kids, but I never wanted to be a father to someone else’s kids. I could have done it, for the right person, but it’s a hard job when they’re your own flesh and blood. You see with Therese how hard it can be when they’re not.”

She watched as he gently bent the fingers of her right hand back and forth. When he held her hand, it was always the right one. Just coincidence? Or was the reminder of her wedding ring on the left hand too much?

“So if there was a little Jeff Junior, toddling around here, you wouldn’t be here?”

Was he slow answering, or was it only her sense of time that suddenly crawled? Only hers, she decided, watching the seconds tick past on the clock.

He folded his fingers over hers, then slowly tugged her toward him. When they were so close she could smell the intoxicating mix of caramel and coffee on his breath, so close that his mouth brushed hers as he spoke, he responded, “Like I said, I could do it. For the right person.”

She wanted to bounce, to clap her hands with delight as Lucy had done at the restaurant, to chant,
I’m the right person, I am!
But it was impossible to do anything at the moment because he was kissing her, deep and sweet and hot, his hands pulling her closer, her own hands clutching his soft T-shirt, trying to get as close as two people could be without absorbing into each other.

His tongue was in her mouth, his fingers fumbling with the first, then the second, button on her blouse when she snuggled a little too close and lost her balance. He fell back against the sofa arm, and she landed on top of him with a soft but satisfied grunt. He was strong and solid, and she’d missed strong and solid for so long. She’d missed contact with a man’s body, missed that feeling of completeness and safety and belonging. She belonged with Dane, and he knew it. He wanted her, and she wanted him, Lord, more than she could remember wanting.

Vaguely, though, she realized that the tenor of their kissing and touching had changed. He wasn’t thrusting his tongue into her mouth any more but twisting his head to avoid her, and his hands weren’t fondling her breasts. They’d moved to her shoulders, pushing her back, lifting her away almost in a panic.

Confusion bloomed through her, along with embarrassment and hurt, and she scrambled to her knees, clutching the undone fabric of her blouse while he straightened to sit, practically hugging the sofa arm. The expression on his face was stark, but she couldn’t identify it. Panic? Dread? Mortification? Had she misunderstood his words or his kiss? Had she jumped to conclusions about being the right one? Had he meant the kiss to be just like the others they’d shared—incredible and needy but nothing more?

He was aroused. She’d felt it, could see it despite his rigid posture.

Aroused by need. Not necessarily by her.

She sank back on her butt, leaving most of the couch between them. Her fingers eased on the handful of fabric they held, then tightened spasmodically. Looking down—far easier than looking at him—she refastened the buttons, then tugged the neckline higher, as if it might cover more now than it had before.

They spoke at the same time. “I, uh—”

“I should—”

Clamping her lips to keep them from quivering, she smiled tightly and nodded to him to continue. Avoiding her gaze, he did. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah. It’s late.” All of eleven ten. And here she’d had fantasies about him spending the entire night.

She felt foolish and small and sad.

He didn’t move for a moment, but when he did get to his feet, his leg buckled and he nearly lost his balance. She reached out a hand, too late and too far away to be of any use, of course, but he steadied himself on the sofa arm, then carefully circled the coffee table and headed to the front door.

She stood, hugging herself, walking to the door but keeping her distance.

They stood there, not close enough to touch, neither looking at the other. The door creaked when he opened it, then immediately he closed it again and turned back. From her peripheral vision she saw him drag one hand through his hair—not much there to tousle—then he sighed heavily. “Listen, Carly—”

Though she’d rather clap her hands over both ears and sing
lalala
to block out his voice, she didn’t move, hardly breathed and listened, but he didn’t go on. How hard was it to say
I like you but not that way
or
not that much
?

Fearful that he would find the words, she spoke in a rush. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” When she finally found the courage to look at him, he looked as pained as she felt.

“It’s not okay. And it’s not you, Carly, honestly. It’s just—”

She cringed inside. The old
It’s not you, it’s me
? Granted, she’d been out of the dating game for a long time, but did men even still use that line?

He reached out, but clearly not with the intention of actually touching her. “I didn’t— I just— It’s been so damn long…but not long enough. I can’t…not yet…not until…”

Before she could say anything—not that she had a clue what to say—he leaned forward, pressed his mouth hard against hers, only long enough to steal her breath, then he was gone.

Carly slowly raised her fingers to her mouth, the closing of the door echoing in her brain, the emptiness creeping in around her. How had things gone from so toe-curlingly good to—to this in a matter of minutes?

Despite the hour, as soon as she was ready for bed, she crawled under the covers with her phone and dialed Lisa. Her sister-in-law sounded wide awake. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Leese. Sorry about the time. Dane just left a bit ago, and— I needed to talk to you.”

There was a click over the phone, then the background noise on Lisa’s end disappeared. “Is that man trying to get you into bed?” She feigned outrage, then laughed. “Good for him.”

“I wish. I thought maybe tonight, but…” Though heat flooded her face, Carly went on. Lisa knew every moment in her life, good or bad. “For whatever reason, he didn’t want me.”

Lisa uttered one succinct syllable that made clear what she thought of that. “He’s a guy, right, and he’s breathing. If I were a guy, I would so find you hot.”

Despite her mood, Carly couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Leese, if you were a guy, I would so find that awkward. After all, you’re married to my brother.”

She laughed, too, then sighed. “Aw, Carly, who understands the minds of men? It’s like trying to explain the nuances of m theory to a rock. But one bump in the road tonight doesn’t mean things are over. You two have been seeing each other, what? Four, five weeks? It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s been so damn long…but not long enough
, Dane had said. Then he’d kissed her.

Too long for him? Not long enough for her?

“It’s just…I really like him a lot.”
A bit of an understatement.
“And I want…more. You know Jeff is the only guy I’ve ever been with, and I’m not exactly brimming with a lot of confidence, and Dane started this tonight and when it got hot, he looked so mortified and mumbled something about it not being long enough and left. He even used that old line,
It’s not you, it’s me
. But he kissed me before he left.”