Second Thoughts (13 page)

She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I drew my own line in the sand and refused to cross it. I should’ve given you and your needs more consideration. And the truth is that I had an inkling, even then, that I might be sacrificing more than I wanted to. Yet I still didn’t back down. We’re equally guilty, Derek.”

He picked up another pebble, tried again to skim it and got more mileage this time. His tight expression testified to how deeply in thought he was, and how strongly he felt. Connie watched him, the man whose name she’d taken and to whom she’d given her heart. She’d legally changed her last name back to Robertson after the divorce, but her heart would never again belong to her alone. And she wouldn’t want it to. The love, the union, had been there; she’d never give that up. But as much as she wished that what he was asking for was possible, she knew in her gut it wasn’t. How could one go back to the beginning and start the whole world over again?

“What’s happened has happened,” she said quietly. The firmness she felt she also heard in her voice, and she supposed that it showed in her face. “And I’m as sorry as you are. But it’s over. We need to let it go.”

“Do we?” His gaze returned to her. The green of his eyes made her think of a pool of water, calm and deep, undisturbed by current. “I’m not so sure about that,” he went on. “Maybe that’s the mistake we made in the first place. Letting go.”

He gave her space to speak, but she didn’t. The timbre of his voice deepened. “I’ve got what I wanted, Connie, as far as my career is concerned. But there’s something missing. It took me a while, but I finally figured out that it was you.”

Still Connie didn’t speak; she simply had no words. Though her resolve hadn’t actually lessened, she felt pulled two ways. It was like having two voices warring inside herself: hers and Derek’s, with his emotions and needs nearly as strong as her own. If either she or Derek had been capable of putting the other person first three years ago, they wouldn’t be where they were now. The realization felt like a knife cutting into her.

“Sure, I’ve met other women,” he confessed, possibly misreading her silence. “But no one I want to look at twice. No one measures up to you. And I don’t think you’ve found anyone either. I would’ve heard about it from Kristy.”

He got another stone, played toss and catch with it, and then again sought her eyes. “You’re right that we can’t go back to where we were before everything fell down around us. What’s happened has happened. But we haven’t lost it all, Connie. I don’t believe that. Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking. Just think about it.”

Connie turned slightly away, brought her hands up to massage her forehead
, and to hide the fact that her poise was deserting her. Her fingers felt shaky, as did her gut. Unsettling question marks had very quickly replaced the semblance of closure she’d worked so hard for and then known for such a short while, and that both surprised her and made her jittery. Yesterday she knew who she was and where she was, and today she wasn’t so sure. The man who stood next to her still had the power to unnerve her, to make her want him all over again. And that scared her.

But never had she allowed confusion or nerves to rule her. She glanced up, gave Derek a direct look but was careful to put neither challenge nor committal in it. He returned her steady gaze
. And then she turned to lead the way back to the farmhouse. One step at a time.

“Sure can think of better ways to waste a morning,” Max said disgustedly as he trudged into the farmhouse that afternoon.

He stood aside while a morose Petey followed him in. As Max watched him, concern seemed to replace his irritation. He closed the door and caught his brother’s arm. “I told you this is not your fault,” he said, voice and gaze level. “You didn’t know what you were doing, but he did. You are not at fault here. He is. Do you understand that?”

Petey stared at the floor for a long moment, then finally lifted his gaze. He nodded, but his forlorn expression belied the nod. Max waited a beat, squeezed his brother’s arm, and then released him.

He caught Christopher’s eye. “Chris, why don’t you and Petey dismantle your garage over there, and go set it up outside under the tree? That way you can have real dirt instead of pretend dirt for your dump trucks.”

Christopher’s face brightened, but he directed a questioning look at his friend, awaiting his approval before making a move.

Petey’s manner made an abrupt about-face. “Yeah. We won’t have to worry about the babies getting into our stuff.” His gaze roamed the room and hall, as if looking for little people, and he added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Hurry, before they get in here.”

Their enthusiasm grew as they worked, their voices bubbling with excitement, and they kept shushing each other so as not to wake up the little spoilers. As he watched them, Max’s expression smoothed itself out.

Once the two were out the door, their arms loaded with miniature garage parts and toy vehicles, the three remaining people looked expectantly at Max. Connie stood at the entrance to the kitchen. Moose had just entered from the hall after checking on the twins, who were napping in his room. Derek was at the window. Max looked at each person in turn, and then lifted his shoulders in a resigned shrug. Connie considered that shrug to be his trademark.

“Wasn’t home,” he explained succinctly. “Out of town. Back by the weekend.”

Four pairs of eyes looked in different directions in various expressions of defeat.

“Zero accomplished,” Moose said.

“Zilch,” Max agreed. “All that buildup, and now we get to sit around and wait some more.”

“And waiting is the only thing you can do,” Derek warned. “Don’t even think about doing anything else.” Three sets of eyes looked at him. He chose to answer Connie’s. “That’s right. They need to wait, not rob that store again, or do anything else even remotely illegal. They need to sit it out, as difficult as that may be.”

She felt her gaze sharpening as she regarded him. “One way or another, they are going to get that comic book back.” The extent of her aggression surprised her, and she saw that it’d angered Derek. His mouth set itself in a straight line, and then he turned and stared out the window at Petey and Chris.

“Don’t worry about it, Uncle Dare,” Max said, face and voice void of expression. “I’m not going to do anything. The truth is I have neither the heart nor will to do anything else.”

Connie hated the defeat she saw in him, even more than the defeat she felt in herself.

Max went to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of root beer. The easy-open pop-top wasn’t living up to its name; he swore under his breath, changed hands, but still couldn’t get it. Connie stood next to him so she took it, got her fingernail under the tab and popped it up, then handed the can back.

He frowned at the can, then her. Lifting her shoulders, she showed him her palms in a questioning attitude. “What?”

Moose covered his mouth, smothering a cough.

Appearing even more dejected, Max shook his head and sipped his soda.

Derek continued to stare silently out the window, not bothering to move the organdy sheers aside. Max crossed the room and joined him. “Petey’s going to miss Chris,” he said. “Going to miss him real bad.”

“Really bad,” Connie corrected absently.

Derek’s head snapped around. “You correct his grammar, but it’s okay for him to commit armed robbery?”

Connie made a bewildered gesture. This was her day for being frowned at.

Derek turned back to the window. “And it’s really badly, not really bad. If you’re going to correct someone, correct him correctly.”

Max and Moose exchanged long looks.

Max cleared his throat. “My timing might be pretty bad here,” he paused and looked from Derek to Connie and back again. “Bad or badly?”

Connie massaged the bridge of her nose, and Derek gave him a straight-on look. Max stared blandly back, and Derek gave in with a grudging grin. “Okay, I had that coming. Go on.”

“You might as well go home once the babies wake up, and I need to know what your plans are. If you’re going to tell all right away, or if you’ll hold back until the weekend and give us some time.”

“Oh, for…” Connie looked at the ceiling. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

Three heads jerked toward her. She seldom swore—it wasn’t a good habit for a schoolteacher to form—but that was the only word that fit. She gave Derek a pleading look. “How could I forget that? I don’t believe he…it…er, whatever, never even crossed my mind.”

His steady expression assured her he hadn’t overlooked what she had.

Her sense of defeat grew. She looked at Max, then Moose. “We…he…well, our …”

“What she’s trying to say is that we won’t be able to hold anything back,” Derek explained. “Once Chris opens his mouth—you’ve already experienced his candor—we can only enlighten and clarify. His father, my brother, is the chief of police.”

Max blinked. Moose walked backward until his legs hit the sofa, and he sat down.

“O’Reilly,” Max breathed, staring into space. “Kevin O’Reilly. He’s the chief of police. Of course he is.”

“This just keeps getting better and better.” Moose’s voice was flat. “If it wasn’t so serious, it’d be downright funny.”

“The chief of police,” Max repeated. “We kidnapped his kids, his brother, and his sister-in-law. The only one we missed was his wife. You think she’ll be offended?”

Thoughtfully Max worked his jaw, then he gave Derek a quick look, and then Connie. “Do you know what his name is?” With a nod of his head, he indicated Moose. “Do you know where he works, lives, anything about him except what he looks like? His nickname doesn’t matter. Petey and I are the only ones who call him that.”

They shook their heads.

Max looked at Moose. “Then you got company, old buddy. Petey and I will be moving in with you, and we’ve gotta do it fast.” His attention returned to Derek. “When is your brother’s flight arriving on Thursday?”

Derek looked at Connie.

“Uh. Late afternoon. Four-thirty, I think.”

“Heck of a lot better than dawn,” Max said, language surprisingly mild. “But we’ve still gotta get a move on. Aunt Connie, I hate to ask you this, but…”

She nodded knowingly and finished his sentence for him. “You want me to wake up the babies and get out of here, ASAP. After holding us against our will for three days, you’re now unceremoniously kicking us out. You don’t do things in half measures, do you?”

Max smiled, and then a real chuckle broke through. Derek gave him a curious look, possibly because it was the first time he’d heard the man laugh.

Holding the uncharacteristic smile, his gaze fixed on Connie, Max said, “If I could have a wish granted, it’d be that one day I invite you both to visit me, you would do so because you want to, and you wouldn’t leave until you were damn good and ready.”

Connie matched his smile. “I’d like that, too,” she said quietly.

Then she caught sight of Derek’s countenance, and she sobered hers. “But somehow I doubt it. I’ll go get the twins.”

* * *

LAX didn’t rank very high on the list of Connie’s favorite places. She twisted in her seat at the airline terminal that was overrun with endless people, bustling activity, and overriding announcements.

“Stop fussing,” Derek hissed.

“I’m not fussing,” she hissed back.

“Then stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting!”

Christopher looked idly at them, then went back to his
Highlights
magazine. Evidently their bickering had become so commonplace their nephew paid little attention. He was busy picking out things that didn’t belong in a picnic scene. The magazine had kept him occupied for what had turned into a long wait. Connie was thinking about borrowing it.

Coherent explanation of the past week was impossible. She wasn’t looking forward to relating it, any of it; hence the fussing and the fidgeting. And she and Derek had been at odds, even more so than usual, since they’d left the farmhouse. They’d managed to agree on two things: neither of them wanted to attempt to muzzle Chris, and they wanted to stick around for the weekend. But that was the extent of their agreeableness.

She caught herself squirming again and forced herself to sit still. She also forced herself to stop pushing her tongue against her bottom teeth. Unfortunately, she didn’t even have a baby to keep her busy. They’d both decided to nap in the van, and neither one had awakened, despite being transferred from car seats into the double stroller and then joining the bustle of the airport.

Her fingers moved to the waistband of her gray slacks and surreptitiously straightened it out. She wished she’d worn something else. These pants had no give, and the white silk blouse was little protection against the air conditioning. She envied Derek his sweatshirt, as ratty as it was.

People had generally steered clear of the group, possibly because of the noise potential of three kids, but a grandmotherly type now took the seat opposite Derek. She glanced idly at him, then gave him a longer, studying look. He’d dressed in old jeans and the well-worn faded blue sweatshirt that Connie coveted, was slouched in his seat, and wore a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead. So far, the simple disguise had worked; no one had looked twice at him. But this grandmother was apparently on the sharp-eyed side.