Stef Ann Holm (24 page)

Then Jason said, “Well, then it’s for me.”

But Matt was too quick and he grabbed it, since it was the only phone they had in the house and maybe it was for him. Sometimes he had boys from the team call him up and want to go to a movie or sit out at the ice cream place and eat scoops of chocolate fudge.

“I got it, Mom!” he hollered, scraping his chair legs from the table, then speaking into the mouth piece. “Hullo?”

“Who’s this? Mattie or Jason?”

“Dad!”

“Hey, Matt. It’s your dad.”

Matt flopped into the overstuffed armchair and dangled his legs. “What’re you doing, Dad?”

Glancing at his mom, he saw her expression of wonder, as if she was thinking something bad.

“Just sitting here thinking about you and Jason,” Dad said. “I sure miss you boys.”

“We miss you, too, Dad. We’re going to see you this Friday. I already got my ideas for what we can do. We can go fishing in the river—Bud said we can use his tackle, and I can take you to Ada’s and show you the dogs and then we can have burgers at Woolly’s and make Jason clean up our table—”

“Shut up,” Jason scowled, but with a smile. “I’m not cleaning up after you guys.” Then his brother got quiet for a sec, as if he was trying to decide something. “Tell Ga—tell Dad I said hi.”

Matt felt better. “Dad, Jason says hi!”

Their dad replied, “Tell him hi back.”

Kicking his feet to the side of the chair, Matt asked, “So what time are you going to be here?”

“That’s why I’m calling.” His dad didn’t say nothing for a long time.

“Dad?”

“Matt, I won’t be able to come up.” Matt’s heart sank into his stomach. “I’m having a little bit of a financial problem down here. I can’t seem to get the money for an airline ticket up that way. You know how it goes. I’ve got to pay child support and that about taps me out. But I’m thinking of you boys all the time.”

Matt didn’t say anything, and maybe the look on his face said everything. Because his mom came over to him and took the phone. Matt let her. He went back to the kitchen table, sat down and gazed at Jason. “Dad’s not coming.”

Jason’s nostrils flared. “Effing bastard. I knew it.”

Their mom went outside, onto the porch, but Matt wasn’t even interested in listening. He had a stomachache now.

After a couple of minutes, she came back inside, stood in the doorway and folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mom,” Jason said, looking up at her with his chin down. “Gary’s an ass.”

“Jason, I really don’t think you should say that.”

“I don’t care. It’s true.”

Matt wished he could cry, but in a way, he just didn’t feel like it.

“Okay, I have an idea.” Mom came toward them, her brown eyes happy even though her face was sad. “Let’s get out that old tent we have and pitch it in the yard. I call campout-sleepover, and we’ll even make a fire to roast marshmallows.”

“Yeah!” Matt smiled, a surge of excitement hitting him.

Even Jason shrugged with a half smile. “But, Mom, last time you put that tent up for us, it collapsed.”

“I never claimed to be perfect.” She set the cell phone on the counter, put her hands on her hips and gave them a loving glance.

Matt fought tears. He jerked to his feet, put his arms around his mom’s waist.

“I think you’re perfect, Mom.”

Even Jason got up and hugged Mom. It was just the three of them, but that was okay. They loved each other.

T
he plan must have worked.

Lucy woke up early, sunshine streaming through seams in the thin tent and blinding her. She put one of the pillows over her face and closed her eyes, her body sore from having slept on the ground. She was getting too old for this.

The boys were still out like lights, each a lump in sleeping bags zipped up tight, with shaggy hair sticking out of the openings. They’d stayed up late, toasted marshmallows, talked about the new school year, which classes they wanted to take. The things they’d been doing over the summer, and baseball.

Sleeping with her cell phone close by, Lucy had expected Mackenzie to call to say the plan hadn’t worked, that Drew didn’t care and they hadn’t talked things out. But they must have.

Grateful, Lucy smiled in spite of feeling as if she’d slept on a pile of rocks. Checking the time on the front of her phone, she had to squint.

Almost seven.

Dragging herself out of the sleeping bag, Lucy left the boys and went inside to put on coffee. She padded into her bedroom and sat at the vanity, gazed at her reflection and frowned. She looked awful.

A quick visit to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth and brush her hair into a ponytail had her feeling better. Thankfully, she’d taken a shower before bed, so her legs were shaved and smooth for a pair of shorts and a tank top. Already, the day’s heat seeped into the cabin. It was going to be a hot one.

Lucy sat back at the vanity and applied marginal makeup. A little blush and mascara, a light coat of lipstick. She preferred pink. She swiped on deodorant and sprayed apple blossom body splash on her neck. Inhaling, she looked at herself, satisfied. Almost content to the degree that the past had been left in the past. No longer was Gary able to affect her. His not showing up was not surprising. Was it going to ruin her day? No. Was she going to feel guilty about it for her boys? Yes…

That’s why she’d camped out with them last night. But in the past, she would have brooded the rest of the day and thought about how she could get Gary back, and make him suffer the way she was suffering.

But the funny thing was, she no longer suffered. She’d finally hit neutral. What Gary Carpenter did and who he did it with was no concern of hers, and his actions weren’t going to bother her.

Lucy slipped on a pair of flip-flops. Today she intended to give the house a cleaning. Dusting, sweeping, shaking out area rugs and scrubbing the bathroom.

The sound of a car pulling into the yard caused her to glance out the front window. A deep-gray-and-chrome Hummer had pulled up next to the lilac bush.

Drew Tolman was here.

Going to the door, Lucy wondered what made him show up all of a sudden. He’d never come over, she’d never invited him. Living in a teardown wasn’t exactly a place she wanted to have company visit. She’d been thinking about finding some place permanent, but that was a long way off. Maybe by Christmas she could save enough for a small condo. The odds were unlikely, but with prayer and luck, it might very well be doable.

She went out to the porch, one hand on her hip and the other shading her eyes. “Hey, Drew,” she said, her voice sounding sleepy. His name was the first thing she’d said since waking. And it felt good to say it.

“Morning.” He glanced at the tent. “Rough night?”

She smiled. “The boys and I had a campout. They’re still in there sleeping.”

Drew looked too good in a pair of khaki shorts and a white linen shirt that hung to his narrow hips. His face was tanned, as were his muscular arms. A hint of stubble shadowed his jaw, as if he’d shaved just before bed, but not this morning. He had on black leather flip-flops.

Pocketing his SUV keys, he came toward her. “I know it’s real early. Is this a bad time?”

“No. I’m making coffee.”

“Good, I need some.”

On closer inspection, he didn’t appear as if he’d rested well. Maybe it hadn’t gone well with Mackenzie last night. Lucy’s initial thought when seeing him was he’d come by to tell her he and Mackenzie had had a great night, connected and come together. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“Come in.”

No longer did thoughts of her run-down residence fill her mind. There was something wrong. She had women’s intuition.

Drew stood in the kitchen as if he didn’t know what to do. He had that helpless-man look on his face, something she never thought she’d see there.

Absently putting her hand on his shoulder, she said, “Sit down. How do you like your coffee?”

“With cream, but milk’s fine.”

“I’ve got vanilla creamer.”

“That works.”

She put everything out, let him pour the amount he wanted. Taking a chair next to him, she drank a sip of coffee, let the flavors wrap around her tongue, and tried to anticipate what he was going to say.

“What happened?” she finally questioned when he didn’t start blabbing.

Drew pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed the center of his forehead, then gazed at her through his fingers. “Mackenzie went a little nuts yesterday. I think she has that shit you call PMS.”

However Lucy thought he’d word it, saying “shit you call PMS” hadn’t been part of the equation.

“I figured you’d know about this teenage girl stuff, since you were once her age.” Drew dumped creamer into the black depth of his coffee and then stirred.

Keeping her rampant emotions in check, Lucy tried not to think the worst, but she had a bad feeling. “What do you mean, she went a little nuts?”

“I came home yesterday and she’d messed up the whole house with my stuff. She got into my baseball things, put the baseballs into the fruit bowl, framed pictures of Opal and Roger and put them on the mantel.” Drew shook his head. “Just some weird stuff. And she had Kleenex in all the rooms in case I cried. Hell, I think it’s so she can cry because she’s whacked out on hormones. She hasn’t been herself lately. She’s been doing things—almost as if to piss me off—and it’s working. She’s leaving dirty dishes out, crap like that. I’ve held it together because I don’t want to lose it with her. It’s a hard situation. I mean, she’s my kid, but I don’t want to parent her.”

“Why not?” Lucy asked curtly, then pressed her lips together. “Why aren’t you being her dad?”

He looked as if she’d just spoken a foreign language. “I am.”

“Well, if she’s doing things in your home that are disrespectful, you have to tell her no.”

“Yeah but, Lucy, she’s dealing with the death of her mom. She doesn’t know me. I just want to be her friend for now. You know, keep it even. No tension.”

“It sounds like you’re having tension.”

He sucked in a breath that hissed between his teeth. “You’re right. So what do I do?”

Lucy toyed with the spoon in front of her, her eyes cast down. “Why were the changes in the house displeasing to you?”

“I don’t know, they just were. I like things one way. Neat and organized.” Drew lifted his cup. “I’ve lived a certain way for so long it’s not easy to change.”

Keeping her temper, she tried to speak without displeasure in her tone. “How do you know your way is the right way? What makes Drew Tolman think that living a sterile life without photos on the walls and personal objects in the kitchen is a way to live? What’s wrong with having the refrigerator covered with magnets and life—pictures, receipts, take-out coupons?”

“I don’t like clutter on my fridge, okay? I just want—” But he stopped himself, scowled. “How’d you know about the fridge?”

Lucy bit the inside of her lip, the truth weighing her down. No way out. “I was there. I helped her do it.”

Drew tilted his head. “You did what?”

“She was upset with you, Drew, so I—”

“Upset with me? I haven’t done jack. I’ve been keeping my distance, haven’t tried to pressure her or make her talk to me.” A dark gleam landed in his eyes. “I’ve taken her places, done the father-daughter things and hoped she’d forgive me.”

“Have you asked her to?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. I did. This past February when I went to Florida I took her to a spring training game at Vero Beach. I told her I was sorry for everything.”

Lucy’s dander rose and she spoke from personal experience. “Being sorry and asking for forgiveness are two different things. I could burn your dinner and tell you I’m sorry, but if I did wrong by you, that would require me asking you for your forgiveness.” The stirring of a headache built, and maybe she wasn’t as “done” with Gary as she’d thought….

Sometimes, out of the blue, something got her worked up, and she remembered all too well what it was like to deal with a man’s ego. In this case, Drew’s was getting in his way.

Playing with the spoon’s handle, she formed her words. “I told you that my ex-husband cheated, then walked out on me two years ago, and in that time, I have made my peace with him. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Bitterness is a hard thing to let go. Gary has never once asked me to forgive him. And he was the one who wronged me. In his mind, he said he was sorry for how things happened, so he gets a clean slate. I can tell you, Drew, there’s a whole different playing field between those two words. You live for baseball. Think of being sorry as a foul ball and forgiveness as a line drive.”

He stared blankly at her, as if he didn’t know what to say.

In a strong tone, she advised, “I suggest you ask your daughter to forgive you.”

Drew made a check of the time on the dial of his watch, then adjusted the band, looked at her and the surrounding room. “It isn’t going to be easy.”

“Nothing worth having ever is.”

“She’s going to tell me to go to hell.”

“I think you’ve been living in it for the last seventeen years.”

He raised a brow. “I’ll have to tell her about the alcohol.”

“She’s a smart lady. She won’t judge.”

“She might.”

“You’ll deal with it.”

Clearing his throat, he uttered remorsefully, “She told me she wants to go home.”

“It’s not too late to change her mind.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“I wonder where she got that from?” For the first time since Drew had come over, Lucy smiled at him.

Drew made a face—at himself. A roll of his eyes, a grimace, a soft snort of self-disgust. “Yeah. Maybe.” He stood, tall and broad-shouldered, then dragged a hand through his hair and smoothed it away from his temple.

She walked him toward the door, but he turned to her before they reached it.

One minute she was behind him, the next she was in his arms and he was kissing her softly on the mouth. The move was sudden and unexpected, disarming and wonderful at the same time. She’d been too surprised to linger and taste, but the warmth from his lips caused her heartbeat to lighten, flutter. Her arms wound over his shoulders, her fingers cupping his neck.

Against her mouth, he whispered, “Thanks, Lucy. I think you are amazing.”

His words of validation brought the burn of tears to her eyes. For a long time after Gary, she’d thought herself unattractive and unworthy. It felt good to be reminded she was important. She’d come to that conclusion on her own, but it felt really great to be told she had worth. And especially by Drew.

“Thanks.” She gave him an encouraging smile, one that she hoped he could carry with him and remember as he talked to Mackenzie. Part of her wanted to be there to mediate in case things got ugly; a part of her knew it wasn’t her place. Sometimes things had to get a little unpleasant before they could be fixed. This was one of those times where everything that either of them had ever felt needed to be spoken. Too much time had passed when things had been kept inside.

Drew brushed his warm fingers over her cheek, then traced her lower lip with his thumb. “You’re a quality lady.”

The affirmation warmed her to the core, heated her skin with a blush that threatened to overwhelm her. This was a side of Drew that she’d never seen, that probably few people had seen.

He had a huge heart. For the first time, she realized that even a big man could feel vulnerable. Fear rejection. Want to walk away from pain rather than face it.

“I gotta go,” he said, and took the keys from his pocket.

She watched him pull away, her heart swelling with a feeling she’d thought was long since dead. She’d known from day one that she had lust for Drew Tolman. No doubting that. But now something else flickered to life. She hated to even acknowledge it.

So she didn’t.

Caroline Taylor had never contacted Drew demanding child support or recognition for Mackenzie. Over the years, as Drew rode the elevator higher into the majors, she could have cleaned him out for some serious cash. A court would have made him take a paternity test, but she hadn’t been like that.

When she told him she was pregnant, she’d knocked the hell out of his curve ball. She deserved a whole lot better from him, but the past was the past and he couldn’t change what had happened.

In those days, he’d spent half his time in the bar and half his time on the ball field. After too many drinks, he reasoned that even if Mackenzie was his daughter, she’d be better off without him.

But deep down in his core, the center of his soul, he’d known the truth from the very day Caroline had called to tell him she’d missed her period and the test strip confirmed her suspicion. He would always remember the tone of her voice, that helpless quiver to her words.

Even to this day, recalling it made a stab of conscience and self-loathing spear his heart. Caroline wasn’t a liar. That’s why he never threw any of Mackenzie’s pictures away and hadn’t been fully able to talk himself out of having a daughter.

To Caroline’s credit, she’d done an amazing job. Who Mackenzie was today, even the little rebellious streak in her, she owed to her mother. With all Mackenzie had been through, it was a wonder she stood tall and strong. Losing a mother, and even a stepfather, only to find out your real father denied you—nobody should have to deal with that.

All Drew could do was thank God he’d had the opportunity to make things right with Caroline before she passed. When he’d started sending her money, she’d accepted it, but they hadn’t discussed their heated conversation so many years ago before Mackenzie was born. That night Caroline had told him and he didn’t own up, she’d left him without a backward glance.