“Speaking of understatements.”
“Then—”
“I don’t know, really. I never really thought about it. I guess because those outings...they were fun. You guys were fun. And you let me boss you around.”
Mel sucked in a shocked breath and gently swatted his shoulder. “We did not! Take it back!”
“Hey,” Ryder said, laughing, “cut it out, I’m driving! And I did, too, boss you guys. And you loved it.”
“You are so dead,” she said without thinking, only to mentally swat herself when his smile faded. “Sorry, sorry, sorry...God, what an idiot—”
“You are many things, Mel,” Ryder said in a very low voice, “but you are not, and never have been, an idiot.” His eyes bounced to hers, then away. “Is that clear?”
Unable to speak, she could only nod.
Then they rounded a bend in the road, startling a small flock of Canada geese into flight against the hazy blue sky. Ryder’s gaze followed for a moment, his expression tense when he returned his attention to the road. And Mel thought, Ah.
“It takes a long, long time,” she said at last, “before you stop feeling like there’s a blunt instrument lodged inside your chest. Before everything stops reminding you of them.”
A faint smile stretched his lips. “Dang. You’re good.”
“Familiar territory. I’d recognize it blindfolded.”
Another two, three fields zipped past before he said, “For what it’s worth, the constant pain faded months ago. But it still has a nasty way of blindsiding me when I least expect it. The geese...Deanna loved them. Noisy, obnoxious birds with no sense of personal space whatsoever, barely one step above pigeons as far as I’m concerned, but...” Smiling, he shook his head, then blinked, too quickly. “We wanted three kids. One of each, she used to joke.”
“Sounds like my kind of gal.”
“I think you would have liked her very much. She was very down-to-earth, despite—”
When he stopped, Mel’s eyebrows lifted. “Despite what? Oh. Being pedigreed, you mean?” She scratched the side of her neck. “Bet your mother adored her.”
“Although I had no idea when we met,” he said, and Mel didn’t miss that he’d sidestepped her last comment. “She did a lot of volunteer work with wildlife conservation in the area. One of the other volunteers got hurt one day, and she brought him to the clinic, the pair of them wet and filthy and smelling like the marsh.”
“And you fell like a ton of bricks.”
“Something like that.”
Mel laughed, picturing Ryder getting emotionally sideswiped by this mud-drenched goddess reeking of rotten eggs. “I take it she cleaned up okay?”
“Yes,” he said after a moment. “She did.”
Mel’s eyes filled. “I’m so sorry, Ry.”
“Thanks.”
Several more seconds passed before she said, “And you really haven’t dated since?”
“No. Oh, once or twice my mother foisted someone on me and I took her out to dinner, but I’m sure I would have won a Worst Date award. Even though intellectually I know I need to move on.”
“Meaning your parents are pressuring you to.”
“No. Well, maybe a little.”
“Hey.” She poked one finger into his arm. “You’ll know when the time’s right. And nobody can know that except you. So don’t you let anybody bully you into something you’re not ready for, you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his grin coming out from hiding.
“And in the meantime...you can be as much of an uncle to Quinn as you want.”
His eyes cut to hers. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like that. But...” He paused. “I can only accept if you’re part of the package.”
Mel started. “I...? What?”
“I’d forgotten how easy it is to talk to you. I know, I know—we can’t go back to what we had. And I don’t want to.” He glanced at her, then away. “But what we’ve got now...well. I like it. And I’d like to keep it. If that’s okay with you.”
“Even long distance?” she said softly.
“Whatever works for you. And Quinn.”
Sighing, Mel faced front. “I suppose that depends on all the other stuff. And according to your father,” she said, figuring she might as well go for it, “there’s apparently more ‘stuff’ than I’d at first realized.”
“Like...what?”
“Not sure. Since all he said was, that there were ‘things’—” she made air quotes “—he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. About your mother.”
His voice lowered. “Really?”
“Yeah. Got any idea what he’s talking about?”
“None.” Ryder flexed his hands on the wheel. “Although I suppose you want me to find out.”
“Oh, right. And how exactly do you propose to do that?”
“Ask her?”
Mel laughed. “This is your mother we’re talking about—”
“Mel. As insane as this all is, it’s also the first thing in nearly a year that’s made me focus on something besides myself. And I’ll do anything in my power to make this right. You have my word.”
It’d been so long since she’d felt as though someone was truly and completely on her side. Not since she’d been a kid, in fact, and she’d known she could trust Ryder with her life. As far as that went, he was right—nothing had changed, even if both of them had. But as she said, “Thanks,” and he nodded, determination sharpening a jaw that didn’t need any more definition, she felt a wave of something trickle through her that she sure as hell hoped was gratitude.
Because anything else would be disastrous.
* * *
“So I take it you had a good time?”
Bouncing a little in the slippery red booth after the waitress took their order, Quinn nodded for Dr. David, even though her head felt like it was about to explode from all the questions inside it. ’Cause you better believe, after what she’d overhead? She’d been watching her mom and Ryder’s dad real closely. Especially when Ryder had taken her away so Mom and Dr. David could talk—like that wasn’t obvious, geez—Quinn had kept sneaking peeks at them. Not that she could tell anything, although Mom had seemed kind of nervous, maybe. But then Mom had let Quinn go with Ryder’s dad, right? So how bad could it—whatever “it” was—be?
“On the boat, you mean? Yeah, it was cool.”
“Good,” Ryder’s dad said with a smile as he dug his phone out of a pocket over his chest, texting something before putting it away again. “Thought you might like it.”
“Mom’ll probably make me write a report, though,” she said, making a face, and he laughed, sounding a lot like Ryder.
“Ry tells me your mother homeschools you.”
And why she couldn’t just do what April said, and tell Mom what she was feeling, she didn’t know. But it was like the words would get stuck in her throat or something. Like she wanted to know what was going on, yeah, but she was also scared of what she might find out. And besides, it wasn’t like there was any guarantee Mom would tell her the truth, anyway, right?
“Yeah. Since I was four.”
“Have you ever been to regular school?”
“Once. When I was in the second grade. Because Mom thought maybe I was missing out by not being around other kids.”
“Were you?”
She shrugged. “Not really. For one thing, I like being by myself—at least sometimes—and for another I was already so far ahead of everybody else that I kept saying stuff that made them mad. Not on purpose, I don’t mean that. But like I’d be all surprised when they didn’t know how to do something I’d known for a year already. Not the best way to make friends,” she said on a sigh. “And anyway, I was bored to tears,
and the teacher didn’t really know what to do with me, so Mom asked me what I wanted to do and I said I wanted to go back to being homeschooled.”
Dr. David’s phone buzzed; he pulled it out, checked the message, then set it on the table in front of him just as the waitress brought them their ice cream. Wow. That was a lot of whipped cream. Not that this was a problem.
“What’s your favorite part about being homeschooled?”
Quinn picked up her spoon and dug in. “Not having to get up early,” she said, and Dr. David laughed again. “And staying in my pj’s, if I want. Sometimes Mom does, too. Because that’s how we roll. This,” she said, jabbing the spoon toward the ice cream, “is seriously excellent.”
“It is that—”
“Can I ask you something?”
Dr. David gave her one of those oh-heck-now-what looks like she’d seen on Mom’s face a gazillion times. “Sure.”
And to be honest, for a second Quinn thought about asking him straight out about what she’d overheard. Only, for one thing, she wasn’t really sure what to ask. Or how. And for another, whatever it was, she was pretty sure she needed to hear it from Mom. But there was this one question about to burn a hole in her brain, and she figured if anybody could answer it, it would be Ryder’s dad.
“Mom says she and Ryder were friends when they were kids.”
“They were. Very good friends.”
“Like, best friends?”
The doctor rubbed a knuckle over his chin. “I think Ryder thought of your mother like a little sister. It made him feel good, having her to look out for. Take care of.”
“Oh. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters of his own?”
Dr. David went real still, except for twisting his spoon around and around over his sundae. Hot fudge, like hers. “Actually, he does. A younger brother. Jeremy.”
“So how come he didn’t play with him? Instead of my mother?”
The doctor’s eyes bounced to hers, then back to his ice cream. And there it was again. That weird feeling. Like she was playing the hot-cold game with the truth, and she was getting really warm.
“They had—have—very different personalities. They never did get along particularly well. That happens sometimes. In families.”
Quinn spooned a gooey spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, barely catching the runny fudge before it dripped all over her chin. “So what you’re saying is,” she said around the coldness, “Ryder liked my mother better than his own brother?”
The doctor’s mouth moved, like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or not. “In many ways, yes. I suppose he did.” Now he frowned. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
“What? Oh, no. Sorry. I guess I got off track. Mom is always on my case about that, she said if I’d ever actually finish the conversation I started she’d fall over in a dead faint. But anyway, that couldn’t’ve been my question, anyway, right? Since I didn’t even know Ryder had a brother. Does he live here?”
“No. In New York. We don’t see him much.”
“How come?”
“Just living different lives, I suppose.”
“That is so sad. I mean, maybe because it’s only Mom and me, since my grandmother died, but I think it would be so cool to have more family. Anyway, sorry, I did it again—my question is...do you think Ryder and my mom maybe like each other more than just friends?”
The doctor half coughed, half laughed. “And there’s a question I don’t dare answer, because no matter what I say I’m bound to get in trouble.” He looked up as the door jangled open behind her, then back at Quinn. “But how would you feel if they were?”
“Me? I think that’d be the coolest thing ever,” she said on a sigh, mushing her ice cream so the fudge sauce got all mixed in. “And since they’re friends already, it sorta feels like a no-brainer, if you ask me. That they’d get together.” She grinned. “And then I could stay here and you and I could go do all that cool birding stuff, huh?”
For the first time, Dr. David’s face relaxed. “That would be nice. Very nice.” Smiling, he lifted his glass of water, like Mom would do with the sparkling cider on holidays. So Quinn picked hers up and toasted him back as he said, “Here’s to everybody’s dreams coming true.”
Giggling, Quinn clinked glasses with him, then concentrated on what was left of her sundae, on feeling good, for once, good enough that the spooky feeling was almost gone.
Although the questions? They weren’t going anywhere.
* * *
Lorraine doubted Quinn had seen David’s glance over her head when the child refocused on her sundae, her gingery curls bobbing in time with her swinging feet. Just as she clearly hadn’t seen the brief flicker of surprise in David’s eyes when she came in, lifting a finger to her lips before sliding into a booth far enough away to not be seen, but close enough to observe. To listen.
He probably didn’t know what to make of it, since low key had never been her style. After all, what was the point in arriving someplace if people didn’t know? Not this time, however. Goodness, she’d even dressed in all beige, as though to become as invisible as possible.
All the better to get her heart shredded, she supposed. Even more than it already was.
Truth be told, when David had first texted her, telling her where they were, giving her the opportunity to change her mind, she’d texted back, No way. Except curiosity nagged at her until finally it melted the fear. Or at least softened it enough to push past it. So here she was, shredded heart and all, observing her grandchild—the bright, funny, forthright grandchild who reminded Lorraine so much of herself she could barely take it in—she’d sworn never to lay eyes on. The child she’d tried so hard to forget.
Except she hadn’t. Not even for a moment.
The waitress came; Lorraine ordered coffee, even as she found herself giving grudging props to Melanie for raising the girl on her own. How well she’d obviously done, how she’d clearly refrained from contaminating the child with what had to have been her own asperity about...circumstances.
Remorse battering her psyche like hurricane-churned surf at a seawall, Lorraine slowly pressed a fist to her chest as her soul cried out for the child, images flashing of shopping trips to New York, of debutante and engagement parties, of a lavish, early summer wedding in their backyard...
All fantasy, of course, she thought with a rude thud as she crashed back to earth. Because it was too late, wasn’t it—?
She sucked in a little breath.
Honestly, the answer was so obvious, so simple, she couldn’t believe it had taken this long for it to come to her. Although she didn’t suppose that, relatively speaking, it had taken so long at that. Especially since, once it did, the plan practically exploded in her thought, full-blown.
And with the plan came peace. A sense of having regained her footing, of once more being in control. Because for as long as she could remember, it had always been about The Plan. Naturally The Plan changed according to the needs of the moment, but Lorraine had never been someone given to simply “letting” things happen. That was pure foolishness, as far as she was concerned.
But at least this plan, she mused when the coffee arrived and she removed a couple dollars from her purse to pay for something she had no intention of drinking, should not only make everyone happy, for once, but—and here was the best part—as far as she could tell had already been put into motion years before.
And not by her.
Amazed by her own brilliance, Lorraine dropped the bills on the table, blew a kiss to her husband, and slipped out as unobtrusively as she’d arrived.
* * *
Kiss her.
Kissherkissherkissherkissherkissher....
Yeah, it’d been pretty much like that for the past hour or so. Why, Ryder had no idea. Okay, not entirely true. Considering how firm
ly Mel had been kicking his grief in the butt all afternoon he probably wanted to kiss her out of sheer gratitude, if nothing else.
Which wasn’t entirely true, either.
They’d finished up with Moses and were headed back to town. How the old man had recognized her when he rarely recognized Ryder anymore was a mystery in itself. But damned if his bleary, yellowing eyes hadn’t lit up when, smiling, Mel had leaned over to give him a hug, then squatted at his knees, tightly holding his gnarled, trembling hand while he rambled on piecemeal about things that had happened years ago...
“Feels like another storm’s coming in. The temperature’s dropped,” she said beside him, hugging herself.
Underneath her breasts.
Fine. He was horny. And lonely. And so bleeping tired of being miserable. And lonely. And horny. And Mel was funny and sexy without even trying, and underneath her grumpiness had a heart as big as her boobs—bigger—and made him laugh, dammit, and how long had it been since he’d laughed without feeling like he was playing the part of a man who was coping just fine, thank you?
“Yeah, looks like,” he said, peering up at the glowering sky and away from Mel’s...attributes.
But the thing was, wanting to kiss Mel didn’t mean he still didn’t miss Deanna. Or that being around Mel obliterated the pain, even if it had seemed to recede a bit more than usual. Like the tide.
Which always returned, didn’t it?
Then she sighed, making the breasts rise like warm dough—no way to miss it without looking completely to his left—and Ryder thought, I am a terrible, terrible person.
A chill rippled through the car; Ryder reached out to punch on the heat. “You warm enough?”
“Me? Yeah, this fleece stuff is warmer than it looks. How about yourself?”
He grimaced at the windbreaker that had seemed more than adequate that morning. “Freezing. In fact, do you mind if we stop by my house so I can grab another jacket? It’s on the way.”
“’Course not.”
“You sure? I know you want get back to Quinn.”
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