His Best Friend's Baby (14 page)

To avoid giving an answer he pressed the tissues to his nose again, even though it had stopped bleeding.

“We better get going,” Rachel finally said, taking the hint.

“Hey, with that eye and stuff, you’re going to need help around here again,” his niece said, her eyebrows arched in a purely speculative way. “I don’t want to take advantage of a man when he’s down, but I’ll give you a deal on my salary.”

“I never paid you a salary,” he said, glad the tissues covered his smile.

“All things we should discuss.” She nodded her head, like some old sage. “I better stop by tomorrow.”

“Amanda, leave him alone before he decides to strangle you,” Rachel called from the other room and Amanda smiled at him as if they were old conspirators. He supposed they were. She whirled, her hair a pretty blond fan behind her, and was gone.

The echo of their voices, the sound of Rachel’s truck starting up and leaving, all faded away. Wain emerged from one of the back bedrooms where he’d taken to chewing on the corner of some carpet that had come up and he sat on Jesse’s foot.

His warm weight settled, solid and comforting, across Jesse’s bare skin.

“Just don’t fart,” he told the old dog.

Jesse realized that what was happening to him right now was normal. Real life. Nieces and family dinners and stolen kisses with beautiful blondes in kitchens. These things happened every day to humans around the world.

And it felt so good.

S
HE’D MADE A MISTAKE.
That much was clear. Coming to Agnes and Ron had put Julia smack-dab in the middle of a web, sticky and terrible. But she couldn’t get out. She had nowhere to go. No car. No money. A job that started in a few days.

“So,” Ron said, as he cut his pot roast into small pieces. He watched her over his glasses, those grandfatherly eyes not nearly as kind and welcoming as they’d been three weeks ago. “I hear congrats are in order. Lawshaw is a wonderful community college.”

I’m an adult,
she told herself.
Time to act like
one
.

“I am not going to school,” she finally said, sounding like a rebellious teenager. She looked up from the salad she’d been pushing around her plate and set down her fork. “I’ve gotten a job and I’m going to make some money so Ben and I can move out.”

The words fell like bombs in the still air. Ron also set his fork down. Agnes pressed her napkin to lips and made some excuse to go to the kitchen.

“Is this your gratitude?” Ron asked.

“I am grateful, very grateful, Ron. You can’t imagine what your hospitality has meant to us—”

“Well, this is a terrible way to show it.”

Julia suddenly saw Mitch’s childhood played out in front of her. His parents had created a liar—a man who constantly took the path of least resistance to avoid this burden of guilt, this responsibility of pleasing two people with a narrow rigid view of the world. And Agnes and Ron had no idea. They were blind to what they’d done to Mitch, what they’d made of him.

She thought of Ben, sleeping upstairs, and promised never to force her expectations upon him. Mitch’s son would have no idea what it was like to be Mitch.

“Ron, my son and I need to get settled. I am a grown woman and I cannot take advantage of your kindness any longer.”

What she really wanted to say was “I can’t live with your wife’s insanity any longer,” but that hardly would have served her purpose.

“We don’t feel you are taking advantage. We feel that this is an opportunity for us to get to know our grandson.”

“I’m not taking him away from you, I’m staying in town. I just need to get an apartment closer to work—”

“What work?” Agnes asked, having returned from the kitchen in time to catch the last of Julia’s words.

Julia took a deep breath, steeled herself for the firestorm of disapproval. “Petro.”

“The truck stop?” Agnes gasped.

“I’m waiting tables. I got a few morning shifts and—”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Julia.” Ron’s voice, pitched somewhere between pity and condescension, lit the fuse on her dormant temper.

“I know exactly what I am doing, Ron. I am trying to make a home for my son. I am trying to pay off Mitch’s astronomical gambling debts and I am trying to get on with my life.”

“You never loved Mitch,” Agnes spat. “You never—”

“You’re wrong, Agnes. Mitch never loved me,” Julia yelled. “Mitch never loved anyone. He didn’t have it in him.”

“You’re lying,” Agnes cried.

“How would you know—”

“Calm down, both of you. Before you say something you regret.” Ron’s voice cut through the haze of anger that surrounded Julia. “You’re getting worked up.”

Yes
, she thought.
Finally, I am getting
worked up
. Her hands trembled but she felt so strong. Ready to take on any comers. She felt ready to beat back these false memories of Mitch.

“I think perhaps maybe we’d all better take a breath,” Ron said. “We understand your desire to move on. To make a home. We are gratified that you want to do that near us.”

It’s not like I had much choice
, she thought. She could have moved anywhere in the world and been alone, or she could have come here and had some kind of support.

Now she was beginning to wonder if anywhere else in the world might be better than here. But then she would never have seen Jesse.

She was twenty-four years old. She had a son. She’d lived all around the world and she was just now figuring out what she really wanted. Jesse was a part of that, but he came with a price—her pride.

“Will you take care of my son while I’m working?” she asked. “Just until I have enough—”

“Of course,” Ron interrupted. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I’d also like to discuss private mail,” Julia said, still outraged that Agnes had opened that letter.

“Hold on a second, Julia,” Ron said, holding up a finger. “The letter was addressed to me. It came with a private note from a friend in admissions at Lawshaw.” Again those kind eyes turned cold. “I pulled a lot of strings to get you early acceptance—”

“I didn’t ask—”

“You filled out the application, Julia. If you weren’t interested you should have said so then.”

She felt as though she were a child lacking in common sense. Guilt curved her shoulders and pressed her eyes to her plate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“Well, you’ve done a terrific job of that,” Agnes snapped.

“Agnes,” Ron barked, chastising her. Collectively they held their breath, watching each other from the corner of their eyes, waiting to see who would make the first move.

I can leave. I should leave. I should just go
.

But where would she go? She had no money for an apartment. She had no friends. She had only Jesse, and she didn’t even know what he was.

She felt torn between circumstances and her desires.

“Now, if school is not in the cards for you right now, I think that’s fine,” Ron said and she waited for the catch. “I understand. You should have some money. But you should consider what a college education can do for you. For Ben.”

The guilt choked her so she could barely breathe. All of her strength, anger and righteousness vanished. “I will. Thanks,” she managed to say.

“All right.” Ron nodded as though everything was settled. “Agnes, a wonderful meal, as usual.” He patted his belly. “I’ll wash if you dry,” he said to his wife, who appeared to feel as small as Julia felt.

“Thanks,” Agnes said and turned into the kitchen.

“I’m going for a walk,” Julia told Ron’s retreating back. She had to get out of here.

“Sounds like a fine idea, take a sweater.”

H
OW HAD SHE MANAGED
to be so bullied? Again? Julia wondered, shutting the oak door behind her. All they had to do was mention Ben and she folded in on herself with guilt. She was a good mother. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

Except for a meager bank account and homelessness.

She’d wanted to hold out for that Holmes Landscaping job, for any job that didn’t actually involve polyester uniforms and chicken-fried steak. But a job was a job and she needed one desperately. Especially now with the open hostility in the Adams’ house.

Before she’d even realized it, she’d skipped across the dark lawns and jumped the ditch and stood on the sidewalk beside Jesse’s house.

Jesse’s house was dark but lights pooled on the grass from his garage. She saw his shadow pass one of the windows and her heart swelled, trembled in recognition.

There was nowhere else she wanted to be but in that garage with him. It was as simple as that. Her body, her heart, everything led her here.

She remembered the squeeze of his hand as she’d left earlier, the unshuttered look in his
eyes as he’d thanked her for stopping by as though he’d meant it. As though he’d wanted her there.

The memory of that look was enough to propel one foot in front of the other across the grass in the direction of that old building.

Unsure of her greeting, she knocked tentatively on the splintered gray wood of the garage door.

His head turned toward the doorway and, for a moment, she thought his battered lips might smile. Instead he bent back to the wood he was inspecting.

“Hello,” she said.

He grunted in response.

“I saw your light on….”

He was silent.

“Thought I’d come in and say hello.”

“Hello,” he practically barked.

Tired of being pushed around and playing games, Julia threw her hands in the air. The idiot had been kissing her just a few hours ago.

“You’re worse than a sixteen-year-old. Either you like me or you don’t. Whichever it is, stop playing this game with me.”

“Sorry,” he said, his head stayed bowed. “I’m
sorry.” His hands flexed on the wood he held and the moment stretched. He breathed and so did she. She blinked. Toyed with the hem of her sweater. “Stay. I’d like you to stay.” He watched her over his shoulder and then finally smiled. “I’ve been a jerk for so long I’ve forgotten how to be anything else.”

The smile, more than anything, gave her pause. Enchanted her, really.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“You can sit.” Jesse pointed to a wobbly old stool to his right.

“Thanks.” She lowered herself onto the stool, hooked the heels of her battered tennis shoes on the rung and tucked her hands under her thighs. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at this oak.”

Hmm. This was going well.

“Rachel and Mac are having a baby.” He wiped his stubbly chin with his hand. “They want a cradle.”

“Are you going to make it?” She didn’t know he could do that sort of stuff. But the image of Jesse as a woodworker, covered in sawdust, hammering things, made her warm.

“I don’t know.” He leaned against the workbench and crossed his arms over his chest. The
soft gray flannel of his shirt pulled across his shoulders with the movement.

“They must be so excited.” A baby. She remembered that feeling of holding a treasure in her body, a secret that only she knew.

“I think Amanda’s more excited than anyone.” His smile pulled and stretched his bruised and puffy skin.

“I had a weird moment with Amanda and Agnes today,” Julia ventured, stretching out into the unclaimed territory between them. Friends.

“I can imagine. Agnes is a sociopath.”

Julia wished part of her didn’t agree with him. “Do you know Amanda was arrested? Agnes seems to think Amanda started a fire.”

Jesse shrugged. “You can’t take anything Agnes says seriously.”

“She’s beginning to freak me out,” Julia admitted. “She’s so possessive. I mean, I would understand her feeling that way about Ben, but she actually forbid me from saying your name today.”

Jesse laughed.

“That’s why I stayed friends with Mitch for so long,” he said. “Even though the guy had everything, I felt sorry for him.” He picked up another piece of wood.

“I did, too,” Julia said, so relieved to be talking about this. “I feel like I had to come all the way out here to finally understand him and—” she blew out a long breath “—forgive him, I guess.”

“He doesn’t deserve that from you. Not for what he did.”

“But who could live with the kind of pressure Agnes and Ron put on him? I used to wonder why he lied so much, about the dumbest things. But it all makes sense once you get to know his parents.”

“The first time Mitch did real bad on a test—” he looked over his shoulder at her “—Ron got a copy of the test and made Mitch stay awake studying until he got every question right. Mitch was awake for two days straight.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, it got to the point where the way my own dad dealt with things just made a lot more sense.”

“What did he do?” Julia didn’t want to ask but had to know.

“He drank mostly. He got pretty violent.”

Jesse began piling the wood on the bench under the stronger light that was clamped there.

“I’m sorry,” she said stupidly, sensing all the pain under those words.

“Don’t be. I’m over it.” He shrugged, his shoulders tense despite the casual words.

“I never knew my dad,” she said.

“He ran off?”

“He was military. Career.”

“Sometimes that can be worse,” Jesse said and it was so true there was nothing she could add to it.

Jesse stretched out the measuring tape. He pressed it against the wood, took a pencil from behind his ear and made a small mark on the oak.

A small, beat-up, paint-splattered radio was playing a Johnny Cash tune and Jesse hummed along with it for a moment.

Julia felt aglow, relieved and happy in the way of a person finally setting down a burden. “I got a job.”

“Good for you.” He obviously meant it. There was no sarcasm in his voice.

“Out at Petro, the truck stop. I start on Saturday.”

“I used to dream about their meat loaf.”

“You’re kidding.” Julia laughed.

“God, I wish. The big secret about life in the military is that most of the time all you’re doing is dreaming about food. And sex. That’s it.”

“Did you like it? The military, I mean,” Julia asked, wondering at what point all of Jesse’s walls would go back up and the relaxed, laughing man in front of her would revert to the cold solider she dreaded.

He selected another piece of wood and measured it. “Some of it. Some of it I loved.”

That was all he said. She made a humming noise and let the subject drop.

“What about you?” he asked. “What did you do before you ended up being a helicopter pilot’s wife?”

“I moved to the coast, got a job waiting tables. One day I went for a run on the beach and ran into Mitch.” She shrugged. “That’s my whole life story.”

Jesse wiped his hands on a cloth from the bench. “Mitch used to talk about you nonstop. But I could never know what was real and what was bullshit.”

“Most of it was lies I bet.” She laughed, feeling awkward under his sideways gaze. “I never wanted to go to college and I never wanted to be a dancer—”

“Really?”

She glanced up at him but not for long. “Well, maybe for a second or two out of high
school. I took some classes, but nothing serious.”

He smiled. “You look like a dancer. You move like one.”

Julia blushed like a schoolgirl and loved every minute of it. She felt as though she were being wooed.

“So, what do you want to do now?” he asked. “If not college, if not dancing, then what?”

She bit her tongue against putting her wish into words for fear of jinxing herself. But this was Jesse, the man who’d seen through to the best parts of her from the moment they’d met.