Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found) (25 page)

He shouldered her away from the stove, hefted the heavy pasta pot, drained it into a colander in the sink. “Aw, he’s a good kid. You did a helluva job with him.”

She dished a serving of noodles, blanketed it with clam sauce, handed it to him. Shooed him to the table. Her voice turned thoughtful as the face of a light-haired girl came to her. “Just lucky, I think.”

Salad tongs hovered in midair as his eyes searched hers out across the room. “Lucky? Why’s that?”

She took the seat across from him, scooped noodles and sauce onto her own plate. And couldn’t get rid of the ache in her heart. “Reese and I were in Starbucks the other day, and in comes this mom with a girl who was deaf. She was young, the girl, like one of Reese’s students.” She twirled pasta, took a bite. Jake was nearly done already. “For some reason it really hit me, made me stop and be grateful for everything we have—our health.”

Jake leaned forward, his forearm spanning the table, his palm so near. “Surely you see special needs children at school. Why would this one bother you so much?”

It was natural to reach a few inches, rest her palm on his, so she did. “She looked so familiar. So did the mom.”

“Did you know them?”

With their fingers entwined, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I forget the mom’s name, but it was like maybe I knew her once upon a time. But the girl, I thought maybe I should recognize her.”

The squeeze of her hand gave her comfort. She shook off the mood pushed her empty plate away, changed the subject. “I want ice cream. How about it?”

He stood to help her clear the table. “I’m full, but I’ll share a banana split with you.”

“You’re on.”

Ten minutes later they were huddled over an oblong dish of tasty soft serve. Jake grinned at her, licked a dribble from his bottom lip. “Same time next Sunday? I’m curious to see what movie you pick.”

Allie scooped up ice cream, held it aloft. “Sure. I’ll make sure it’s a good one!”

“I have no doubt.”

Eyes closed and with a slow moan of orgasmic delight, Allie sucked in the spoonful of ice cream covered with pineapple sauce.

Jesus. His pulse leapt. He couldn’t watch. He popped a bite of chocolate-covered banana into his mouth and turned away, scanning the crowd.

Seated two tables over a boy about Trey’s age faced him. A dark haired woman and a young blonde girl shared his table, their backs to him. His mom and sister? Most likely. The young man glanced over and caught him watching. Then did the oddest thing.

Smiling and waving, the boy yelled to him, “Hi, Coach!”

“Who the heck?” He shrugged when Allie lifted an eyebrow, excused himself, strolled to their table, and did exactly what he usually did when he found himself in this predicament.

He faked it.

“Hey man, haven’t seen you in a while.” He bumped the boy’s fist with his own.

“Here visiting for the weekend.” The boy motioned to the two across from him, his hands a wave of gestures. “It’s my mom’s birthday.” The young girl smiled up at Jake, mutely waved hello. He introduced her with a smile. “This is my sister, Merrie, wearing her chocolate sundae.” Jake stepped closer, his hand stretching out to the woman, prepared to shake.

“Happy…” The greeting hung in the air unfinished; his heart kicked even as he went rigid. His hand drifted to his side. Maggie Jensen. Holy shit, it was Maggie Jensen. His eyes darted back to her son. Jimmy. He remembered him now, soccer. His gaze sought the girl, whose features suddenly answered so many questions. Dark hair, dark eyes—like her mom. But the nose, and the smile, those he recognized.
Fuck.

His head spun to look over his shoulder. Was Allie watching? No, talking on her cell. Good. He turned back; his voice went taut. “Maggie.”

She gave nothing away. “Jake. Good to see you again.”

He let his eyes slide from mother to daughter and back again, sitting beside each other on a concrete bench. “I’ll bet.”

For years he wondered, and here it was. The proof sat right before him—with fudge sauce smeared across her face. And there the mother sat. Pretending there was nothing
significant
about their meeting while he fumed.

He drug his eyes away, lifted his hand again to shake with the boy. “Jimmy, it was good to see you again. Have a safe trip home.” He turned back to Maggie, his words edged in ice. “We need to talk.” Let her worry how to explain that to her son.

“Yes, I imagine we do.” But the cold-hearted, husband-stealing bitch was unmoved.

Jake reached into his billfold, pulled out a business card. Held it out to her. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll meet.”

She took the card and nodded.

Pivoting on his heel, he marched back to Allie, grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.” And hustled her toward his truck.

She dug her feet in when he opened her door. “Jake, what-?”

He swiveled to look behind them, to a table where half-eaten ice cream was left to melt. And a familiar woman fled across the parking lot with two kids in tow, gesturing rapidly.

He let his eyes slide closed. Didn’t open them again until he’d taken a deep breath. But still had to grit his teeth to speak. “Get in. Please.”

Dear God, how did he tell her?

Allie studied Jake as he sped through town—the slash of his mouth, eyes black as coal, glittering with temper. What could that woman have said to set him off? Her own stomach knotted. By the time he pulled into her driveway she could ladle the tension with a spoon.

“Enough, Jake. Who were those people back there?”

He sat staring straight ahead, eyes glued to a spot on her garage door, both hands clutching the steering wheel.

“The boy was Jimmy Jensen; he played soccer with Trey for a few years when they were little.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “I remember Jimmy; nice kid. He pissed you off?”

“The woman, Allie? Did you recognize her?”

The woman? “No. Wait. Was she the woman from Starbucks? She was Jimmy’s mom?” Her stomach unwound; a jittery laugh escaped. Jake was still attached to the wheel. “No wonder I recognized her. She probably thinks I’m terribly rude for not saying hello.” She twisted to look back the way they came. Stupid, Allie. She can’t see you here. “And now she has a little girl. She must have remarried. I remember she was divorced, but that was a long time ago.”

“I don’t know if she’s remarried or not. But Allie, the little girl –”

She studied Jake, her eyes wide in the darkened truck. And finally prompted him, “Yes, the little girl
what
?”

Finally, his features softened and he turned to her. He took a deep breath and met her steady gaze. “The girl is Ben’s daughter.”

Her eyes shot wide, then lowered, along with her brow. But where was the blinding rage? The twisted knife of guilt and humiliation? All she had was… nothing. Wait, maybe a vague interest.

Long ago she’d resigned herself—her relationship with her husband wasn’t what she believed it was. She spent years heeding the advice of a professional. Meeting after meeting emptying her soul to a group of strangers, sharing her humiliation. Reliving her life, one still frame at a time strobing through the dark corners of her mind whenever she closed her eyes, and often when they were open.

She worked tirelessly, for Trey’s sake as well as her own, to put her anger behind her until all she allowed herself to feel was regret. Regret for what could have been, what should have been. For herself and for their son. Regret that what she offered was not enough for her husband, and that he was not willing to communicate this to her. So she put her memories aside and lived in the present, moving forward.

That her memories emerged from time to time to haunt her was natural. After all, she lived with his mirror image. And she’d loved her husband for fifteen years. But through the passage of time she finally understood that she could not change Ben. She could not change the past. But she could—and did—change her life. She put the past behind her and found peace. She put behind her the feelings of anguish at his duplicity, and her stinging anger. She no longer needed them.

But she wouldn’t mind a few answers.

The play of emotions over her face was arresting.
Jesus.
The one person he hated to hurt more than anyone. She stared straight ahead, her face a mask while he waited for the betrayal, the pain, the anger. But her face remained impassive. And then her features softened, loosened even as his whole body tensed and his pulse roared. He could handle it, whatever she threw his way.

Her lips tilted in a slight smile. “I’d like a chance to talk to her.”

His stomach dropped, bounced. Jesus. Here he was, expecting hysterics and she was only curious? Never in his lifetime would he understand the workings of the female mind. “I told her I want to talk. She’s supposed to call tomorrow.”

“Good. Are you okay?”

She was worried about
him
? Remarkable.
“I’m fine. But I’d like a few answers.”

Allie bent a knee onto the leather seat, turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “Yes. I have questions of my own.”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I am.” She turned forward again, stared through the windshield. “I didn’t realize how okay I am until now. I guess it simply took time.”

He understood. She would need that. Time to think, time to feel, time to get over feelings.

“But I’m okay.” She turned another smile his way, this one embarrassed. “I want to know what I did wrong.”

“Christ, Allie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She scowled, quirked her lips. Lifted a shoulder. “Call it pride. Or vanity. It won’t change anything, but maybe I’m curious.”

He reached out, rested his palm on her nape and pulled her forward. Let his lips brush across her forehead. It would be so easy to tilt her chin, shift his attentions lower, but that was a really bad idea. Instead, he took a deep breath of her flowery scent, and released her neck even as he released his breath, and moved back to safety. “You amaze me.”

“I’m not amazing. I loved him. For a long time I loved him. And I have to believe he loved us too, the best way he could.” She reached across the interior of the truck and laid her palm on his forearm, let it feather down to his thigh. “He’s my son’s father. Somewhere there has to be a way to live with what he left us.

His leg warmed where her hand lay, before she pulled it back, heaved open her door. Hot air flooded the interior, overriding the coolness of the air conditioning. She clambered down, out, and turned back, peering at him seated across the cab. “Well, it’s been quite an evening.”

“Yes it has.”

“Call me. When she calls and you set something up, call me. I’d like to meet the girl. Meredith.”

“Of course.”

She stood, studying him. Raised one hand with a smile. “Well, ’night, Jake.”

He lifted a hand in return. “G‘night, babe.”

He took his time driving home, he had a lot to think about. Allie wasn’t the only person betrayed. He was deceived by the friend he knew longer than his earliest memories. The friend who was not inclined to share a facet of his life that was so crucial, so vital. But over the years he’d dealt with Ben’s betrayal in his own fashion. Because he loved Ben. And Ben loved him. The best way he could.

He woke with a waiting-for-the-next-shoe-to-drop sort of feeling in his gut. He went through the motions at work, his cell phone never more than a few inches from his hand, important calls hurried through, all others ignored. But by five o’clock he hadn’t yet spoken with her and his nerves were frayed.

Usually hours behind the rest of the office staff, he set the alarm and locked the office door one step behind Kim. Maneuvering his way through rush hour traffic he held his cell phone in one hand, calculating the easiest way to reach Maggie. Was she listed in the book? Maybe he could Google her. Or he could hire a private detective. They would be listed in the book; maybe he should start there. Did he know any investigators? The phone rang in his hand. He caught the Blackberry an instant before it sailed to the floorboards. “It’s about time you called.”

“I’m calling now. You said you wanted to talk.”

“We do. And we want to meet the girl.” He sounded like a heavy-handed thug and he really didn’t care.

Maggie’s reply was soft and tentative. “I don’t want her hurt. She doesn’t know the whole story.”

For the little girl’s sake, he let up. A bit. “We have no intention of hurting anyone. But we’d like to meet her. And ask a few questions.”

His breath hung in his chest, until she finally answered.

“All right. Can you come by the house around seven?”

“Just give me the address. We’ll be there.”

Mondays alone were bad enough, but Monday with a cloud hanging over her head took serious fortitude. It wasn’t a gray cloud exactly, but that was little consolation. She had a stomach full of what was undoubtedly unresolved anxiety, and therefore it was deemed a cloud nonetheless. She’d dragged herself through the day, escaped to the relative safety of rush hour traffic the moment the classroom was clear. Now that she was home, she needed something to do to keep from losing her mind until Jake called.