Stef Ann Holm (22 page)

“It’s okay. You’re right. I know what I did with Mackenzie will have a lifelong effect on her. Caroline and I were able to talk about it. She was an amazing woman and, at the time, I was too stupid to see just how wonderful she was. She did a great job without me, and I am very fortunate she raised my daughter for as long as she did.”

“So what are you going to do now? Have you and Mackenzie talked about anything?”

“I don’t know how to bring it up.”

Warmth swam in Lucy’s eyes. “Just talk.”

“Timing’s been off. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Drew, I think she’s already upset.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Lucy reached out, took his hand and held it. He absorbed the warmth and comfort she offered, accepting the gesture more readily than he’d anticipated. The night grew brilliant with reds, yellows and blues. Down on the beach, the “Star-Spangled Banner” played.

A tightness settled in Drew’s chest, his heart, his lungs. His daughter was on that beach, she was here, in his life. But he didn’t know what to say to her, how to talk to her, what to tell her.

“Drew…” Lucy’s voice pulled at him and he met her eyes. “Why don’t you just start by saying, ‘Mackenzie, I’m your dad and I love you’?”

Jason tilted back on his lawn chair, the sand beneath his bare feet cold when he dug his toes in. Trying to act cool, he drank a sip of cola, gazed at the sky and watched the fireworks, ignoring Mackenzie, who sat next to him.

They’d been talking about stuff. Like how it was to live in Florida and what there was to do. Jason never knew that swamp swimming could be fun. The way Mackenzie described it, everyone went into this big pond fed from a swamp. They had a tree rope and swing, sometimes someone brought beer and they had a few. She said she never did. She’d tried it once and hated it.

She was different than anyone he knew. Maybe it was the way she talked. He loved the sound of her voice, the way she said words. He couldn’t figure out how she took the same word as him and made it sound pretty.

“So what is it ya’ll said you did for fun in Boise?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

It was cool he had her all to himself. The guys had been too busy being pyros to notice Mackenzie. A part of Jason had wanted to set off some more rockets, too, but he found he’d rather sit by Mackenzie and just smell her. She smelled nice. Like sun and sand and wildflowers.

“We hung out at the skateboard park, my friend Brian’s house and just…you know.” If she didn’t drink beer, she sure wouldn’t have smoked pot. He didn’t want to tell her he had.

“No, I don’t know,” she said in that accent he liked.

“Just stuff. Hanging out, listening to CDs and talking about things.”

“Like what?”

“Just things.” He shrugged, lowering the lawn chair. He had to sound rad, like hotties loved him. “Girls.”

She laughed, and the sound of her girlie voice made him smile inside. “Now ya’ll are talking about the same things we do. Boys.” She grew quiet a few seconds. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

That she’d flat out asked sort of tripped him up. He wasn’t sure what a good answer would be. He thought a minute before replying. If he said yes—then he looked like a jock who had it going on. If he said no—then he looked like a benched loser.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, wondering which answer would work for him.

“I did.” When she spoke, he heard
Ah did.

For some reason, he really liked to listen to her, and he didn’t care what she had to say. But her answer did get his attention. She didn’t have a boyfriend now.

Maybe he didn’t want to know, but he asked anyway. “What happened?”

“He was messing around on me with my best friend.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “That bites.”

“I thought it was deplorable.”

Deplorable.
Was that a Southern word? He wasn’t sure what it meant—other than it was something she didn’t like.

“What’d you do?”

“I came here to get away from him and forget.”

Taking another drink of cola, he swallowed. “So is Drew like your uncle or something?”

She grew real quiet, her face becoming a shadow in the night. Her eyelashes were long against her cheeks, her hair soft around her shoulders. She had on a white sweatshirt, unzipped, and her legs were still bare. They were long and smooth and tan. Her pink lips shimmered with gloss that she’d recently put on. He wondered if it was that flavored kind. He’d never kissed a girl in his whole life.

While he liked Mackenzie—a lot—he didn’t know what to do with her. He wasn’t ready for girls. His stomach felt like there was too much carbonation in it, like he’d eaten one too many hot dogs with too many chips and dip.

“No, he’s not my uncle.” Mackenzie’s voice grew whisper soft and he almost couldn’t hear her. “He’s my daddy.”

Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “He’s what?”

She looked at him, her eyes sad. “If I say it again, promise me you won’t tell anyone? I swear to God, Jason…I don’t know why, but I have to tell somebody in this town or I’m going to go crazy.” It almost seemed as if she was crying, but no tears fell down her pink cheeks. “I don’t have anybody here to talk to….”

“You got me,” he said, then before he chickened out, he took her hand. Just for a second, just a light squeeze. To his horror, he found his palms were damp with sweat, his throat tight.

She blinked, one tear slipping free, and his reaction was one he would never have imagined. He wanted to touch that single tear with the tip of his finger and wipe it away.

“He’s my daddy.”

“Drew Tolman?”

“Yes. He never believed my momma when she told him I was his daughter. But now he’s sorry, so he wants to be my friend.”

Having his dad walk out on him, Jason was all too familiar with what it felt like not to have a dad in his daily life.

“What a shit,” he blurted, gazing around the beach and trying to spot Drew.

“Don’t,” Mackenzie hushed. “Keep your voice down. Don’t make me feel bad for telling you.”

“I guess I’m pissed for you because my dad walked out on me and my brother to live with his girlfriend in Meh-he-co.”

“Is that in Idaho somewhere?”

In spite of his anger, Jason smiled, his heart warming. He did like Mackenzie’s innocent questions. They made him feel funny. His skin grew hot. “No. Mexico, like south of the border. He forgets we’re even around.”

“I’m sorry for ya’ll.”

“I’m sorry for you,” he replied. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like him?”

Her pretty face grew thoughtful. “I’m trying not to. But there are times when he says something to me and I know he’s real sorry for everything—even though he hasn’t said it.” She toyed with the white string of her sweatshirt hood, absently tugging down one side, then the other, her lips pursed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about him.”

We walk through this big house and we don’t talk to each other. We do, but we don’t. It’s always polite.

“Do you want orange juice?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Do you want to go out on the lake today?”

“I’d like to.”

“Want to ride the four-wheelers?”

“Do you?”

“If you do.”

“Okay.”

I don’t know how to talk to Drew. He’s not acting normal. He’s too nice, too pleasing. He doesn’t show happiness or anger. Just neutral, like he’s not sure who he is around me.

The other day, he let me drive the Hummer to Opal’s for our breakfast and when I ran up the curb and accidentally into the pole and cracked the front headlight glass, he didn’t even yell at me.

Aunt Lynette would have taken off my hide. I wasn’t paying attention. There was the cutest dog being walked by Jason’s little brother and I turned my head to see it. The tiny thing looked like a pug-dog and beagle mix.

But no, Drew didn’t yell at me.

I wish he would have.

If we don’t start yelling at each other soon, we’re going to go stark, raving mad in this house.

I called Aunt Lynette and told her that I’m not sure I can last for the whole summer. She’s okay with me coming home whenever I want.

I don’t know if I really do.

Part of me wants to stay and get this over with. For seventeen years, I’ve been missing my daddy, but I haven’t wanted to admit that to myself.

Maybe deep down, I knew I didn’t belong to Bobby Wilder. When I found out he wasn’t my real dad, I had momma change my last name to hers.

When I look at Drew, I see myself and it scares me. Sometimes he calls me “sugar.” That’s what my momma called me and he knows that was her word. Whenever he says it, I think of her. And now whenever I hear it, I’m going to think of him.

The other day, he let me hit baseballs in his batting cage, and he watched me slam them. He said I had a real nice swing.

That made me happy.

Now why can’t I always be happy around him? I think maybe I’m just waiting for him to say he’s done with me and he’ll send me home.

Maybe I should leave before he leaves me.

Again.

L
ucy had two clients to cook for in one day—something that didn’t happen often and, when it did, made for a very long day. But she wasn’t complaining. Business had been slowly picking up. She now had six full-time clients.

She started in the morning at the Waterhouses’, spent three hours there, and now she was finishing at Drew’s. The house had been quiet up until thirty minutes ago, when Mackenzie had come home and gone into her room to listen to music.

When Lucy worked on food preparation, she didn’t socialize with the family. Generally, she was in the home alone while everyone was either at work or school. That’s why she had the homeowner’s keys, got familiar with the pets so they didn’t snap or claw at her, and even knew the gardeners and other service people who happened to be working on the property.

In a way, working for people made Lucy feel she had extended family, and she felt more and more at home in Timberline.

The Waterhouses had two adorable schnauzers and she’d been given permission to give them dog treats. The Dickensons’ large Persian cat liked to curl up on the bar stool and watch her.

Lucy wiped the countertop, getting ready to prepare the last dish of Drew’s choices. It was a side. Portabello mushrooms with Italian sauce, artichoke hearts and feta cheese.

As she scraped the gills from mushrooms, Mackenzie wandered into the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said, walking toward the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of Coke. Drew kept the commemorative kind, and he had an opener on the side of the countertop.

Mackenzie knocked the cap off, then took a long and satisfying drink. “My momma used to put mint leaves into the bottle and she called it a Dixie cola.” She took a seat at the long counter. “She made that up so I’d feel special when my grandpa Earl came over and drank a mint julep on the porch. I liked to sit in the white wicker chair by him and watch the wind ruffle his whiskers. He kind of looked like a Civil War general.”

Smiling, Lucy couldn’t help but warm to Mackenzie. The young girl was very open with her feelings, and the expressions on her face were genuine and real. “Your mother sounds like someone I would have liked.” As she said it, she wondered how Drew could have walked away from Caroline. Lucy didn’t like how that felt in her heart. Torn in two…

“Everybody liked my momma. I miss her.”

“I’m sure you do.” She felt the need to steer the conversation away from Mackenzie’s mother. “Both my parents are still alive. They live in Sun Lakes, Arizona. Shoot, I need to call my mom and check in. I haven’t called in a couple of weeks. I’ve been busy, but that’s no excuse.”

“Do you cook for a lot of folks?”

“Six people.”

“You must like to cook and all. My momma said that anyone who could read, could cook. I can, but I’m just not a natural at it.”

“What do you like to make?”

“I can do all right with a grilled cheese. Sometimes I burn it if I have to use this stove. Ya’ll use gas. We have an electric range back home and it doesn’t get this hot.” Mackenzie’s brown hair was thrown into a ponytail, its glossy mane dusting her bare shoulders. Her summer tan was rich and golden. She wore a lavender tank top with a scoop neck, and hoop earrings, a silver ring on her right hand. “I know how to bake cookies.”

“What’s your favorite kind?”

“Chocolate chip. Do you bake?”

“Not too much.”

“Do you ever get sick of your own cooking?”

“Sometimes.” Lucy brushed olive oil on the mushrooms, then put them in the oven for ten minutes to broil.

“I miss my aunt Lynette’s grits and gravy.” Mackenzie absently took up the pen that rested by a notepad. She doodled pictures. “Drew cain’t make anything. We order in or we eat out, or we eat what you cook for us.”

Lucy leaned her back against the counter. Knowing that this girl was Drew’s daughter put a different light on things. She had had a rough upbringing, and Lucy wasn’t sure how she could forget the truth. She more than liked Drew, but the mother in her wanted to protect Mackenzie from further hurts. Lucy had raised her sons from babies and couldn’t conceive of ever leaving them or denying them. That Drew had was a hard pill to swallow.

She’d promised Drew she’d keep his secret. And she’d meant it. But right now, a part of her wanted to tell Mackenzie that Drew was trying to be a better person, that he wasn’t the same man who’d fathered her. It had been a long journey for him and he wanted to make amends.

Setting the record straight wasn’t Lucy’s business, so she kept her mouth shut. Or she would have if Mackenzie hadn’t asked, “You like Drew, don’t you?”

Lucy was momentarily taken aback. That wasn’t just a casual question, but Lucy treated it as if it were. “Everyone likes Drew.”

“You like him like a boyfriend.”

Suddenly, Lucy had ten different things to do. She got out the feta and began to crumble it.

Do I like Drew Tolman as a boyfriend?

The question echoed inside Lucy’s head.

Yes, I do.

She’d known that for a long time now, but she hadn’t wanted to confront the idea. Because she did want him in the worst way—a sure sign of sinking. She knew she’d drown in his arms, and that was the surest way to bring her heartache.

He was the town’s bachelor boy, a man with a full plate right now. A daughter he was trying to bond with, an ex-girlfriend he was getting over… Add in a new woman? Disaster.

Lucy had had one disaster in her life in recent years: Gary’s leaving her. She couldn’t deal with another so soon. That was why she had purposefully put off dating and getting involved with someone else. Already, she felt the threads tightening, pulling, bringing her toward a vortex of emotions and complications she wasn’t sure she was capable of handling.

This was new territory.

“Do you?” Mackenzie questioned.

Pushing aside the feta, Lucy kept her back to Mackenzie. “I think he’s a fun person to be around. You can’t help but like his way with people, don’t you think?” She turned toward Mackenzie in the hopes that the young girl would see Drew’s merits and maybe soften toward him.

“I think he’s a charmer,” Mackenzie said flatly. “And I think I’m probably crimping his style, so maybe I should go home.”

“Oh, no!” Lucy quickly replied, then bit her lip. “I don’t think you’re crimping anything where Drew is concerned. What gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know.” The teen grew quiet, then lowered her chin. “I guess I’m just homesick, and I’m thinking it’s better I leave before I get left.”

Lucy came around to Mackenzie, stopped, wasn’t sure if she should put her arm around her or not. In the end, she did.

The young girl smelled like floral body splash, and it reminded Lucy of the fact that, at one time, she’d wanted a daughter really bad. But over the years, she’d settled in with her boys and was now used to having sons. Even so, holding this soft-skinned young lady who smelled like a woman brought unexpected tears to Lucy’s eyes.

“I think you should stay,” she whispered, wondering if Mackenzie would stiffen at her touch. She didn’t. “Talk to Drew if you’re having a problem.”

“I don’t know how to talk to him. All he does is act nice to me, and I’m going to scream if he doesn’t tell me to cut it out when I do something I shouldn’t.”

Pulling slightly back, Lucy gazed into Mackenzie’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Lately I’ve been doing stuff to make him mad, but he hasn’t taken the bait. If he were a crawfish, he would have snapped on to my line by now, but Drew doesn’t feel anything.”

“Oh, that’s not true, Mackenzie.”

“Yes, it is. I accidentally busted out the light on his Hummer and he didn’t say diddly about it. Now if I’d’ve done that with my momma’s car, she would have given me holy heck.”

“Well, maybe Drew didn’t care.”

“He cared. When we got home, I heard him on the phone with the dealership, making an appointment to have it fixed. In case you haven’t noticed, Drew’s a neat freak. Nothing’s out of place in this house. It’s not lived in. I walk around and I feel like I’m in the middle of a museum. It ain’t right.” Mackenzie’s voice cracked. “I miss my bedroom, my things, treasures and stuff that I have. I hate this house. It’s nice and everything, but it’s like we’re all glass inside it and we’re going to break. I mean…look at this kitchen. You don’t think it looks plain? There’s nothing on the counter, there’s nothing personal. Nothing stuck on the refrigerator with magnets. All that’s personal in this house are the baseball things. I don’t see any pictures of anyone.”

Lucy had thought about that as well. Drew did seem to isolate himself from everyday details that didn’t have to do with his former baseball career. There weren’t any photographs of his parents, nor of Mackenzie.

The timer for the portabellos went off. Mackenzie sat taller and Lucy slowly released her to go to the oven. As she set the mushrooms on a pad to cool, her mind went a few different ways.

Knowing both sides, Lucy thought maybe Drew and Mackenzie needed to get real with one another and lay all their cards out on the table.

This young girl was hurting and Drew held the key to a lot of answers for her. He was keeping quiet, unsure how to unlock the mystery that was Mackenzie. They were at a stalemate.

Unless…

“Where’s Drew?” Lucy asked, feeling a hot spark of something leap into her pulse with a lively punch. She had an idea that might backfire, but she was going to do it—even if Drew came unglued.

“He’s in town at some meeting for the Park and Rec committee because of the baseball play-offs coming up. We had lunch at Opal’s, and I almost kicked him under the table—he kept asking me if I was okay, if I wanted dessert, if I wanted to go to the lake, if I wanted to take a ride on the four-wheelers, if I wanted to hit some baseballs in the batting cage.” Mackenzie’s eyes grew large. “I wanted to hit
him…
”

Tears shimmered in her hazel eyes, and Mackenzie pressed her full lips together. “He’s not really a family friend,” she began.

Lucy shook her head, not wanting to put Mackenzie through that. In a flash decision, she simply said, “I know.”

“I guess everybody knew but him. My grandpa Earl knew it, my momma knew it and my aunt Lynette knew it and…well, now that Drew accepts it… I…”

The tears began to fall, and Lucy saw Mackenzie’s frustration on her face. She held her close, tightly, and didn’t let go.

Mackenzie was a soft crier. She didn’t make noise, didn’t shudder. Probably the time for that had passed, and now it was just a lonely release of pent-up sadness.

“When’s Drew coming home?” Lucy asked, brushing her lips over Mackenzie’s silky hair, then letting her go.

“We’re supposed to go to a movie in Hailey tonight. He said it started at six.” Mackenzie wiped her cheeks, then glanced around. “See what I mean? This house is a mausoleum. He doesn’t even have a box of Kleenex anywhere. Toilet paper just ain’t the same.”

In spite of the somber mood, Lucy laughed. “Oh, Mackenzie. You are so wonderful. When my ex-husband left, I went through every box and had to resort to TP a couples of times. I agree with you on the toilet paper—although the two-ply is a lot better than the single.”

“Drew’s got two ply. He only buys the best.”

They both burst into laughter.

“I heard about your husband. Jason told me.”

Lucy nodded. “It hasn’t been easy for my boys.”

“And you.” Mackenzie talked while walking down the long kitchen hall. Her voice carried from the bathroom and she came back with a long streamer of tissue to blow her nose. “Ya’ll seem like you’re doing a good job.”

“I’m doing okay.”

Mackenzie was smart beyond her years. What they said about girls maturing faster than boys was true.

Disregarding the unfinished side dish, Lucy took in a firm and deep breath, her heartbeat racing. “Drew won’t be back for hours. I have an idea. I don’t think he’s going to like it, but that’s the whole point.”

Drew turned into his half-circle drive, the radio blaring. His mind was places other than Margaritaville and wasting away. He had a mind-blowing headache. The school board was on a rampage about funding sports equipment for next year’s season; Drew said he would take a cut in pay to keep the boys in gear. The powers that be were “considering” it—but no guarantee. They had to vote on it.

The other meeting he had today ran longer than expected. The city budget for next year had been cut by twenty percent—Little League would be affected. And he’d just found out Ryan had sprained his wrist falling off his skateboard. He’d told those boys to go easy on the other sports while they were heading into play-off contention. They’d been having a marginally good season, and now this.

Cutting the motor, Drew sat in the Hummer a long moment. He didn’t feel like going to the movies. All he wanted to do was sit in the hot tub, smoke a cigar and veg out. But he’d promised Mackenzie they’d go to a movie, and he had to make a good showing of trying to be a good dad. But, damn, it was difficult.

This was harder than he’d thought.

She’d been really pushing him lately, almost intentionally, as if she was trying to get a rise out of him. He didn’t want to yell at her or anything, but he could only take so much.

He’d gotten his cell phone bill in the mail, and had a heart attack when he saw she’d text-messaged $396.00 worth of messages. Who knew that many damn people? He’d questioned her about it, but only mildly, not wanting to rock the boat. She said she hadn’t realized she’d sent that many. He suggested she just pick up the phone and dial the number after 7:00 p.m. instead. She’d replied that texting was much funner.

So Drew let it go.

Then he came home and she’d left dirty dishes all over the kitchen counter. Leftover scrambled egg on the plates, empty milk glasses, dirty pans and utensils in the sink, and the butter had been left out on top of the stove and had melted from the heat of the pilot light. He cleaned it all up, didn’t say a word, when he’d really wanted to lay into her but good and tell her he didn’t live like a pig.

He liked things neat and uncluttered. Simple. Basic. Keep it neutral. Don’t personalize. Open. Nothing closed off. It stemmed from his childhood and not wanting to feel suffocated. The way his dad changed jobs and his mom’s moods swung from hot and cold, Drew had always needed space—wide-open and with nothing in his way. He liked a clear view. Uncomplicated.