A Colton Target

by Beverly Long

“This is my wife, Janell.”

  “Ma’am,” Blaine murmured.

  The army had taught him respect, that was for sure. But now that the introductions were over, it seemed as if nobody knew what to say next. It was too much for Tilda to take. “We should be going,” she said. “Lunch plans,” she added, looking at Blaine.

  “Would you like to join us?” her mother asked.

  Traitor. “Blaine’s teaching some classes this afternoon at The Lodge. I’m sure he has to get ready...”

  Blaine looked at her, then at her parents. “Tilda’s right,” he said. “Perhaps next Sunday?”

  “We’ll plan on it. You can come to the house,” her mom told him. “It’s...good to see you again, Blaine. Really.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Then, without another look at Tilda, he tousled Josh’s hair. “See you in a little while, Josh.” Then he walked away.

  “That was kind of rude, Mom,” Josh said.

  Her parents said nothing. Which suited her fine because she sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it. He’d surprised her, and she hadn’t been at her best.

  “Let’s just go,” she said. “You need to eat before you hit the slopes.”

  * * *

  “How was lunch?” Blaine asked.

  “Good. Pot roast, with apple pie for dessert,” Josh said.

  It sounded delicious. He’d grabbed a burger and fries after he’d left Josh, Tilda and her parents standing on the sidewalk. Her parents had been decent, very decent, given that there was no telling what Tilda might have told them about him.

  Howard and Janell Deeds had stuck by their daughter. Josh had grown up with a loving extended family, one that had now increased in size exponentially. The Colton clan was big and, because of the reach and influence that wealth provided, sometimes seemed even bigger than it actually was. He’d have to start introducing Josh to more of the family. But he wouldn’t push that too soon.

  “There’s Isaac,” Josh said. He waved his friend over.

  “Hi, Josh’s dad,” Isaac said.

  “Afternoon, Josh’s friend,” Blaine replied dryly.

  Isaac’s face split into a smile. “All about Josh, right?”

  It was. Almost as if a switch had been thrown, his perspective had changed. But he wasn’t getting sentimental in front of a group of middle schoolers. “It’s all about hitting the slopes for one last time this year. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were in the snowboarding park. “Half-pipe, half-pipe,” the group started chanting. Josh was right with them.

  It was today or wait for another year. And he was glad that his kid was the type to want to spread his wings, try something new. But there was another new emotion, one that he was pretty sure was worry.

  He suddenly remembered the conversation he’d had with his mother on one of the rare visits back to Roaring Springs when he’d been on active duty. She’d said that she worried about him every day. He’d said that wasn’t necessary, that he was as careful as he could be. She’d told him it didn’t matter. That she was a parent. Therefore she worried.

  Crystal clear now.

  But he held his concerns back. After all, he didn’t want to raise a kid who was afraid to try things. He led the way and, as he’d done the day before, demonstrated some technique. Then the kids practiced with varying degrees of proficiency. Josh, he noted, was perhaps not the most skilled but seemed to have the most natural athletic ability among the group. He couldn’t help but be proud.

  A chip off the old block.

  Good God, was he a hundred years old?

  After an hour, he waved to the group, letting them know that they were free to make their way down the slope. When they got to the bottom, he came up next to Josh. “Is your mom picking you up?” he asked.

  Josh shook his head. “Nope. She has a date.”

  “What?” Blaine sputtered, almost tripping over his own board. “I didn’t know your mom was dating anyone.”

  “Chuck Pearce,” Josh supplied.

  “Have you met him?”

  The kid shrugged. “We went to his house for hamburgers one night. He has a cool aquarium.”

  Did you stay over? Did your mom? He managed to keep those questions inside. “What’s he do for a living?”

  “Works at our bank. I think that’s how they met.”

  He wanted to ask if it was serious but didn’t want to put Josh on the spot and, quite frankly, wouldn’t have trusted a thirteen-year-old boy’s assessment, anyway. “So, you’re going to be home alone tonight?”

  “Nope. I’m going to Isaac’s. Mom said she’d pick me up there at eight. Tomorrow’s a school day,” he added, mimicking Tilda. “See you later,” he said, before he walked off to get in a green van with Isaac.

  It took Blaine about five seconds to find Chuck Pearce online. His social media posts didn’t mention Tilda or Josh, but they were full of glorious recollections of the most amazing ten-day hike on the Appalachian Trail ever. Based on his photos, he was tall and thin and looked to be in his midthirties.

  So the guy could strap on a backpack and some hiking boots. Big deal. Blaine had done that, along with about forty more pounds of equipment and weapons and walked across most of Afghanistan, trying to avoid hostiles hoping for a clear shot.

  There was also a picture of him with his sister Anniston and his parents, celebrating his parents’ fortieth anniversary. One big happy family.

  Was he hoping to add to it? Hoping to have a wife and a son, maybe a new baby in a year or two?

  He realized he was getting a little ahead of himself, but he couldn’t keep his head from going there. Josh was his son. Not Chuck Pearce’s.

  He needed to find out how serious the relationship was. Which is why, four hours later, he was waiting in his vehicle, watching Tilda’s house, when he saw her pull into her driveway at 8:12 p.m. The garage door opened, and he gave them five minutes to get into the house. Then he was ringing the doorbell.

  * * *

  Tilda heard the bell and grabbed a towel to dry her hands. It was an old habit to wash her hands immediately upon coming home from anywhere. Schools were germ factories, and now spring colds were going around. The last thing she needed was to get sick.

  She was not expecting anyone, and she looked through the peephole before opening the door. Blaine. Why was he standing on her porch?

  She opened the door. “Hello,” she said.

  He stared at her, almost as if he was inspecting her. There wasn’t much to see. She’d dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater, for the movie. He was dressed similarly, looking very handsome in his insulated vest, flannel shirt and jeans. He wore cowboy boots. He did not have a coat on, and it couldn’t be more than thirty degrees.

  Maybe he ran hot.

  He made her feel the same. But no way was she admitting that. To anyone.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  She stepped back. “Of course.” Josh was in his bedroom, probably with his earphones on. He wouldn’t have heard the door. “Did you need to speak with Josh?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  They were standing, rather awkwardly she thought, by the door. “Would you like to sit down?” Had something happened at today’s lesson? She’d tried to grill Josh as delicately as she could after she’d picked him up from Isaac’s house, but he’d offered up nothing that seemed concerning. It had been another super cool day.

  She’d been a little jealous. Her date, which she had belatedly remembered during lunch with her parents, was the fourth one she’d had with Chuck Pearce. It had been fine. Like the previous three. She’d enjoyed her salmon at dinner, and the movie had been pretty amusing. But when Chuck had kissed her, she’d thought about garlic, because his pasta had clearly been loaded with it.

  And damn her, she’d know
n in the pit of her stomach that if Blaine had kissed her, she wouldn’t be thinking about anything but how good it was. And then later, when Josh had described his day, all she’d been able to think about was that fine was actually pretty damn boring and would never be confused with super cool.

  Blaine sat on the couch.

  “Would you like coffee or tea?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Josh mentioned that you had a date tonight.”

  He’d not told her that. “That’s true,” she confirmed.

  “Is this a serious relationship?” he asked.

  What? Four dates was definitely not serious. If it was serious, she probably wouldn’t have forgotten about it. But it irritated her that she was suddenly having to explain herself. “Why the question, Blaine? You haven’t exactly been interested in what I’ve been doing for the last thirteen years.”

  “I was pretty much otherwise occupied,” he said. His words were clipped. “And I think I have a right to be interested. Any man you get involved with becomes a part of my son’s life. I don’t like it when he gets shuffled off to his friend’s house. I guess it would have been too much to have expected him to be your priority.”

  Shuffled off. His words hurt more than a physical blow. Nothing had been more important to her than Josh. Nothing.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tilda said, working hard to keep her tone even.

  “Enlighten me,” he demanded.

  No. She would not. Granted, she’d not been forthcoming about Josh’s existence, but quite frankly, it wasn’t as if Blaine had made any effort to reach out to her these last thirteen years. He’d screwed her and then taken the first bus out of town when it seemed as if that night wasn’t going to come back to haunt him.

  “What I do and who I do it with are none of your damn business,” she said. It made it seem as if her relationship with Chuck was more serious than it was. But that couldn’t be helped.

  “You’re wrong,” he bit out. “I don’t want him here with Josh.”

  Chuck had never been to her house. She wasn’t a fool; she’d always met him somewhere. Tonight had been no different. “I get to decide who comes to my home. Not you.”

  “You know what, Tilda? I used to think you were a reasonable person.”

  “I’m no longer an eighteen-year-old girl who is easily bullied.”

  “Bullied?” he spit out the word. “When did I ever bully you?”

  “Prom night.”

  His jaw tightened. “We had consensual sex, as I recall. Very consensual.”

  Yes, it had been. But he didn’t understand what it meant to have the most handsome, most athletic, richest boy in town pay attention to you. It had been overwhelming. So, while the bullying hadn’t been overt in any manner and he certainly hadn’t forced himself on her, there’d been a little voice in her head that had told her she’d be an idiot if she said no.

  Turns out, she’d been a bigger idiot for saying yes.

  But Josh was the result. Sweet, sweet Josh. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that. But you also have no right to barge in here, to demand explanations about what I’m doing.”

  “Did you tell your new boyfriend about me?”

  She had. Because she’d figured it was just a matter of time before he heard the story. His response had been somewhat predictable. The Coltons. Wow. They’re the bank’s biggest customer. “I did.”

  Blaine nodded. “Good.”

  “Good what?” she asked, pushing her hair away from her face. She was so tired. It felt as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  “Good as in I want him to know that Josh has somebody in his corner. Somebody who is going to look out for him.”

  Again the words cut into her. All she’d been doing for the past thirteen years was watching out for Josh. It filled her every waking moment. “I’ve been looking out for him.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe that’s true. But maybe you were really looking out for yourself more. I think that you’re selfish, Tilda. And that you did a very selfish thing by keeping Josh a secret.”

  Tears of outrage filled her eyes, and she wanted to hit him. He knew nothing. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Blaine.” She got up, walked over to the door and jerked it opened.

  He got up slowly. “I’m taking Josh out to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll be here at six.”

  He wasn’t asking. He was telling. “Six thirty,” she said. “He’ll have homework that he’ll need to do first.”

  “Fine.”

  “And there’s school the next day,” she added.

  “I’ll have him home by eight.” He stepped out onto the porch.

  He had all the answers. “Make sure that you do,” she said before she shut the door.

  Chapter 9

  Tilda was eating her turkey and cheese sandwich at her desk when Raeann poked her head in the door of her classroom. “Your room is going to have ants, big, ugly ones that bite, if you continue to eat in here,” her friend said, by way of greeting.

  “I’m not eight,” Tilda replied, giving her friend a tired smile. “You can’t scare me with that.”

  “So, tell me about the lunch,” Raeann said, walking over to look out the windows. The weather had warmed significantly, and any snow that had been piled was slowly melting from the edges. If this kept up, it would disappear in the valley quickly, although it would take longer at higher elevations. “Keep in mind that most of my lunches involve boxed macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, so I’m going to need details.”

  “I did not choke or otherwise embarrass myself too much,” Tilda began. “I took chocolates from Bethel’s as a hostess gift. We had Thai food that she ordered in, and to the best of my knowledge, I chewed with my mouth closed and nothing remained stuck in my teeth. All in all, I’d have given myself a solid B,” she added, with a smile. Despite her heated confrontation with Blaine the night before, she’d woken up this morning with new resolve. She was going to stay positive. Be positive.

  “I heard that Blaine was in church with you and Josh,” Raeann said. “My sister saw you. I gave her enough of the facts so that she could stop any weird gossip about you.”

  And that was how it was going to go. When people heard the truth, they’d likely pick sides, choosing either Tilda or Blaine, depending on where their loyalties had previously been. If people didn’t get the facts, they’d make up something, on that same basis.

  “I don’t really care what people say, as long as Josh isn’t hurt by it,” she admitted. She’d come to terms with her decision. The hell with everybody else.

  Everybody else, she knew, didn’t include Blaine. But given that he acted as if he could barely stand to be in the same room as her, she guessed it didn’t matter that she’d believed at the time that her decision was the best for both of them.

  “Best attitude to have,” Raeann said. “Have I told you how much I’m dreading this Saturday night?”

  Teachers at the high school rotated the responsibility of chaperoning the senior prom. This year, both she and Raeann were on the hook for it. In her day, prom had been in the gym, decorated with streamers and Christmas lights. Now, it was held in one of the ballrooms at The Chateau. Parents dropped way too much money on the event, but there was no momentum to get it back to the high school gym, even though the teachers would have preferred that. “Did I mention that it was prom night that I got pregnant with Josh?” Tilda asked.

  “You did not,” Raeann said, her eyes big. “We’re passing out condoms at the door.”

  She was pretty sure her friend was teasing. “Hm. Perhaps I could give a first-person testimonial.”

  Raeann smiled. “That’s the spirit. Go with what you’ve got.”

  She had wisdom gained from the school of hard knocks. “Blaine is taking Josh out for dinner tonight.”

 
“Date night for you, then?”

  “I don’t think so. I told Chuck the truth about Josh last night. I got the impression that he didn’t think it would help his career to be involved in any situation that might alienate the Coltons or their money.”

  “Weasel,” Raeann said.

  “It wasn’t going anywhere,” Tilda admitted.

  “Go online tonight. Create a profile. Don’t let any grass grow under your feet.”

  “We’ll see,” Tilda said, noncommittally. She knew she wasn’t going to do that but really didn’t want to defend her decision. With Blaine back in town, she had enough to worry about without having to focus on a romantic relationship. And given the way he’d responded to her date with Chuck, she didn’t even want to contemplate his reaction if she found a stranger online.

  Her cell phone buzzed. She fished it out of her bag. Josh: Extra band practice tonight. Be home late.

  She texted back. Okay. Thank you. The middle-school band was supposed to play for the eighth-grade graduation ceremonies in a couple weeks. Clearly, the band director thought they needed work.

  The five-minute warning bell rang. Raeann grimaced. “Back to work. Let’s hope nobody sets the chemistry lab on fire this afternoon.”

  Tilda watched her friend leave. At least in English class she didn’t have to worry about those things. But an hour later, she realized that she did have to worry about underperforming students when Toby Turner failed the quiz. At the end of class, she again asked him to stay behind. “Do you have your signed progress report?” she asked.

  “I gave it to my parents,” he said. “They must have forgotten to give it back.”

  He was running out of time. “Do you not want to graduate with your class?” she asked for about the tenth time. It was getting old, but he needed to understand the consequence of his actions. “No graduation, then no college.”

  “I don’t really care,” he muttered.

  She didn’t think that was the truth. His words were tough, but the look in his eyes was more vulnerable.

  “Are your parents home tonight?” she asked.