Finding The Way Back To Love (Lakeside Porches 3) (11 page)

“How do you figure, counselor?”

“You can shoot baskets.”

He chuckled.

“You’re tuned into kids this age, way more than I am. Look what you did with Haley that first breakfast.”

Silence.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. And thank you.”

Her face softened. “You’re amazing.”

“Any idea where I can find Rick?”

“Overlook Park, I think. He was at the Cushmans at the top end of Lakeside Terrace when he spotted a basketball court. He planned to pick up a ball at Wal-Mart and head back there. He’s tall and thin and—”

“Blond hair, nerdy glasses, got it.”

“How do you know that?” She reached for the box of tissues.

“Haley’s Facebook page.”

Gwen’s laugh came all the way from her toes. She blotted her face and dried her runny nose. “See what I mean? You don’t need any help from me.”

“I’ll give you a little lesson one of these days,” he said with a sexy undertone. “Facebook lesson, I mean.”

She grinned at the phone and rested her elbows on the counter. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Haley slipped into the kitchen and teased her aunt. “That smile must mean it’s Peter, right?”

Gwen nodded. “Cute robe. Have a cookie. I just took them out of the oven.”

Haley came behind Gwen and rested her chin on Gwen’s shoulder. “Hi, Peter. Are you coming for supper?” Her voice was eager.

Gwen tempted him further, “Lemon chicken, sweet potato fries, fresh peas, and all the cookies you can eat.”

Peter interjected, “Yes, tell Haley, yes, I’m coming for supper.”

Gwen and Haley chorused, “Perfect!”

Chapter 6

Rick parked his clunker outside the Cushmans with a note propped on the dashboard, just in case someone thought it should be towed to a junkyard. The grass was a thick cushion under his feet as he made his way across the park to the fenced basketball court.

He didn’t know how to do this. Getting his head on straight was not something he ever worried about. He was usually focused on getting his degree, preparing for a career, relaxing with Haley, supporting her business. Now he had to think about having a son with her, quitting college, and giving up his career plans, because, deep down, part of him believed that’s what he was supposed to do, and that deep-down part had come alive the moment he heard his little boy’s heart beating.

His mentor at RPI didn’t think he should get married. Haley and Gwen didn’t either. But a lot of the world did. His mother and grandmother would have said so. Plus all his teachers growing up. And the priest.

Even more important, it was killing Haley to let go of this baby boy. And how could he abandon his own son? Maybe adoption wasn’t the right thing. He flipped the ball as he walked. If they could just know what kind of home and parents the baby would have . . .

Our son will be smart and talented
. His chest tightened at the thought. Okay, he and Haley wouldn’t have money, but they’d care about his education. They’d want him to explore his talents and his interests. Neither of them had had that kind of caring as children, so they knew how important it was to a child.

But what about Haley’s education? What about my own?
Neither of them could continue college if they decided to raise the baby. Haley had no support now, since her mother had thrown her out. And he’d have to give up his scholarship and his stipend to get a real job. Even so, how could he possibly support the three of them on what he could earn?

He knew just one thing for sure. He wasn’t going to walk away from Haley or the baby.

He came to the gate of the basketball court and stood back to study the structure—as he studied every structure—with a curious engineer’s eye. The posts were tall and straight. The black chain link had no cuts or gaps as far as his eye could see. Apparently, the court was never locked; there was no padlock hanging loose and no marks where one would have been.

When he let himself in, the hinges didn’t even squeak. That threw him. His plan had been to let loose and play hard and smash a few into the net. Vent. Like Haley did in the social worker’s office. But, for that to work, the court was supposed to be as beat up as he felt. Why did it have to be so damn pristine?

Rick stepped to the middle of the court. He spun the new ball on his finger. He flipped it back and forth between his palms until he’d tested the entire surface. He bounced it hard on the pavement. Not bad for fifteen bucks. Clean didn’t mean he couldn’t beat the heck out of it.

As he dribbled over the perimeter of the court, he noted that the playing surface was in good condition, considering how exposed this place was to the weather. There were no scuffmarks on the court and just the one basket with a backboard free of ball marks. The rim rested perfectly perpendicular to it, and the net was clean.

Had they just built this thing? Didn’t anyone use it? Probably families came here for picnics or reunions and got a game or two going.
That’s
what he’d really like to be doing—coming here with his kids and his wife for a picnic, taking a turn on the court, maybe an ice cream on the way home.

That’s
how it was meant to be used. Or for pick-up games or practicing foul shots. Not for an idiot like him that had gotten his girlfriend pregnant and needed to clear his head so he could remap his whole future, starting as a nineteen-year-old father.

Frustration flared. He fired the ball at the fence.

The metal clanged and shuddered. “Asshole,” he chided himself, “that solved nothing.” The chain link quieted and settled itself. The ball rolled back toward him and came to rest a few feet away.

So play a little ball. See if that helps.

He scooped up the ball and carried it to the base of the backboard, then paced the distance to the foul line. If he’d bought some chalk, he could have marked it for himself.

He dribbled, settled into his stance, and swished one through the net. Twelve shots later, he’d made five.

“Keep practicing,” someone called from the sideline.

Rick turned to see a tall, muscled guy standing behind the gate, his fingers laced in the links on either side. “Are you Rick?”

“Yeah. You’re Peter? Gwen said you might come by. Want to shoot a few?”

Peter strolled onto the court, tossed his own ball into the corner and held up his hand for Rick’s. He’d never seen a cleaner ball. “Had it long?” he asked.

“Like half an hour.” Rick laughed.

Peter quirked an eyebrow. “Is this their street ball?”

“Yeah, I planned to smash it around a lot, thought it might hold up better.”

“And that’s your idea of smashing? Shooting to miss a dozen foul shots?”

Rick’s face got red, but he came right back with, “You missed my rocket shot into the fence before that.”

“Thought I heard some banging and clanging. Hard to do much smashing if you like things neat and orderly.” At Rick’s puzzled frown, he added, “Heard you’re an engineer.”

“Maybe. All of a sudden life’s not so neat and orderly.”

“Listen, I met Haley when she broke into Gwen’s the other night.” Peter decided to get the issue out in the open. “I’m the cop that investigated the break-in.”

“And I’m the expectant father, still in shock. It’s a boy, you know.” He choked out, “My son.”

Peter felt Rick’s pain in his own gut. “You two are in a rough spot.”

“Yeah.” Rick nodded.

Peter shoved the ball hard at Rick. “Let’s give this street ball a workout.”

They dribbled and passed the ball back and forth in a warm-up drill for a few minutes. Peter broke away and took the first shot. The ball bounced off the rim. Rick grabbed the rebound and put it in the net.

They alternated shots, missing as many as they made.
The kid’s in good shape
for a nerd
.

Peter slowly ramped up the action, and Rick stayed with him. Peter got sneaky, stole the ball, and got in an extra shot. His prowess rated a nod from Rick.

He blocked Rick’s sure shot and stuffed the ball in the net. Rick spat on the pavement.

The longer and harder they played, the more agitated Rick got. That was the plan. Peter knew he’d be pissed in this guy’s situation, and the sooner he let it out, the clearer his head and the better he could deal with it.

After twenty minutes, Rick’s face was tight. His nostrils flared. He bared his teeth at Peter’s antics. And his shots swished in more than they missed.

They’d worked up a dripping sweat when Peter made a seemingly casual comment, “I made you for a stoic, Rick, but I can see I’m wrong. You can really score when you’re on fire. You’ll have me on my ass if I’m not careful.”

Rick hurled the ball at Peter’s head.

Peter blocked it and yelled, “Simmer down.”

“I am not fucking stoic,” Rick snarled, “I’m pissed as hell.”

Peter calmly scooped up the ball and tossed it back to Rick. As Peter approached the basket, Rick fired the ball into the backboard. Peter dropped back a few inches, half-afraid the board would shatter at the impact. He retrieved the ball and stood flipping it idly next to the fence.

Rick bent forward and braced his hands on his knees. Breathing hard, he said, “Sorry, man. I’m out of my mind.”

“So tell me about it.”

Rick stood up straight, hands on his hips, and looked Peter in the eye. “I hate it that Haley’s hurting so bad.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and glared around the macadam as if searching for some hole along the fence where he could escape. “And I cannot abandon my son.”

“I hear you, but there’s more than one way to handle it.”

“But I know the right thing is to marry her.” Rick shot daggers at him.

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that the right thing for you?”

Rick’s face mapped a war of emotions.

“Who exactly is that right for, Rick? For Haley? For your son?”

He held his ground while Rick bunched his fists.

“You need to use your brain, Rick, not some old Catechism lesson. How about we kick around some other possibilities. What do you say?”

In a few seconds, Rick’s breathing steadied. He wiped sweat from his chin on the shoulder of his T-shirt. “Sure, why not?”

Peter dribbled within a few feet of Rick and tucked the ball under his arm. “What started you thinking you need to give up your plans and dreams to get married?”

“The whole adoption thing, the horror stories about foster care. God, I heard his little heartbeat.” He glanced at Peter and quickly averted his gaze. “He needs a strong dad, one who loves him. Suppose I’m the best father my son can have?”

“Rick—”

“Maybe I should give up my degree program and—”

“Stop. Don’t. Rick, you can’t undo the pregnancy, but you’ve got a choice about what you do now. Don’t sell out your dream. Or Haley’s.” He bounced the ball a couple times to hold Rick’s attention. “From where I stand you’re a natural for the field you’re in. Hell, you measure off the foul line practically every time you shoot.”

Rick let out a laugh.

“And you need to keep on with that work. You’ve got important work to do, and the world needs it. You can’t be giving it up because you and your girl made a mistake. The father thing will come at the right time, and now is not the right time.”

“Okay, I agree that I’m made for engineering and not ready to be a dad, but isn’t that selfish?”

“Sure, some.” Peter shrugged. “But it’s pretty selfish and egotistical to think you’re the best possible father for this little baby right now. And do you think Haley’s ready to be a mother? Are you two ready to marry?”

“Shit, no,” Rick told him with a wave of his arm. “No to all of that.”

Peter bounced the ball to him. “Shoot six from the foul line.”

Rick paced the distance from the base of the backboard and drew an imaginary line with the toe of his sneaker.

Peter watched him—so precise, so measured. How had he and Haley gotten into this jam?

Rick’s first shot went wide and to the right. He retrieved the ball for himself, paced the distance to the foul line, and got into place. “Do you know how all this happened?” Rick asked Peter.

Peter started.
Did he just read my mind?
He quipped, “In the usual way, I assume.”

Rick growled some epithet, too low to make out. He hurled the ball at the backboard just above the net. It caught the rim and dropped through.

Peter picked up the ball and tossed it back to him.

“She left her fucking pills at school when we drove home for the holidays.”

“You could have gone back for them.”

“Damn straight, we could have. But did she even tell me? No.” He aimed and shot. The ball swished through the net without a sound.

Peter tipped it back to him. “Pretty irresponsible of her to have sex under the circumstances.”

“No kidding. We went to a party and she had some eggnog that must have been ninety proof. It went straight to her head. Talk about losing all inhibition.”

Peter caught a little smile on Rick’s face before he ducked his head.
At least they had fun
.

Rick dried one hand on his chinos, then the other. When he lifted his head again, any sign of remembered pleasure was gone. His eyes were determined, focused on the basket. He dribbled hard, the ball pinging the pavement, and fired the ball at the net. It hit the rim, bounced high, and curved away to the right.

Peter retrieved the ball and tossed it to Rick. “You’re shooting fouls,” he reminded him, “and you’re two for four, with two to go.” He pointed with his chin to the imaginary foul line. “Then I’m up. I’m going beat your ass, at this rate.”

Haley chugged half her iced tea, set down her glass, and reached for a cookie. “Am I spoiling dinner?”

“It’s still a couple hours away. How are you feeling?” She patted Haley’s knee as they sat side-by-side in the den, just off the kitchen.

Haley circled her index fingers beside her ears. “Crazy. I was okay until . . .” She took a strained breath. A few tears rolled down her cheeks. “Until we found out it’s a boy. Rick’s son, Gwen. And I lost it.”

“Why, sweetie?” Gwen pushed a lock of hair back from her niece’s tear-streaked cheek. “Does knowing the sex make it harder for you?”

Haley nodded, scrunched up her face, and turned huge, dark eyes to Gwen. “I love my baby so bad it hurts. And knowing this is Rick’s son,” she said with her hand on her belly, “I can’t just abandon him. But I can’t possibly do a good job raising him. I’m just like my mother.”

“Sweetie, that’s not true. You’re nothing like Ursula. For this whole pregnancy, you’ve been attentive to your baby. You’ve been responsible with your health. You’ve always found a safe place to live and put aside money to take care of both of you. You haven’t made demands on anyone. But you also had the courage to bring Rick into the hard decisions and to set up a base here with me for the last couple months until the baby comes. You’ve been a good mom, and you’ll continue to be for as long as it makes sense.”

“Do you really believe that?” Her scared eyes begged Gwen to say yes.

“I do believe that.” Gwen’s mouth softened with a smile. “I have the evidence right in front of me.”

Haley flashed a tearful smile. “I’ve got to know where our baby goes and who’s taking care of him and if he’s okay. Rick needs that, too.” She burst into tears, and Gwen drew her into a hug.

“It’s okay, Haley. We’ll figure this out.” Gwen made gentle circles with her hand on Haley’s back. When the sobs turned to little hiccoughs, Gwen said brightly, “If you could choose your little boy’s home what would it be like?”