by Karen Muir
To counter her gloom, she stood and paced to the kitchen window. A fat-bellied squirrel sat on his haunches, nibbling a peanut from the tray she’d set out this morning. Her stepdad, Jim, had enjoyed feeding the squirrels and the birds. Which was probably why she still did it, too.
Things would have been much different—much better—if he’d stuck around. A bitter reflection that haunted her to this day. Frowning, she filled a glass with water and drank it all.
Despite their family’s evictions and middle-of-the-night moves, she had managed to hang on to the red fishing pole Jim had given her, a token of the happiest time in her life. On impulse, she walked to the hallway and snagged the ceiling hook that lowered the ladder leading to the attic. Climbing to the top rung, she squeezed through the entrance hole, snapped on the light, and steadied herself on the creaky wood floor. Skirting stacks of dusty boxes, she sneezed and made her way toward the corner where she’d last seen her pole. It took her a minute to spot it.
Grasping her find, she descended the ladder and was headed for the back porch when the doorbell rang. She propped the pole against the sink cabinet and went to answer the door.
A woman wearing a green velvet jacket and matching pants and stylish leather boots stood on the porch. Her long red hair was swept on top of her head, with ringlets like those of a Regency heroine trailing down.
“Meg!” Gina gasped, thrilled to see her friend. She hugged her warmly and then stepped back. “I’m so glad to see you. And don’t you look great, all chic and sassy.”
“Thanks, hon. I could use some adoration about now.”
Gina took a closer look at her friend. Beneath her makeup, Meg’s eyes were red. She’d been crying. “What’s wrong?”
Meg’s laugh held a note of pain. “They say misery loves company. So let’s you and I be miserable together.”
“Oh no. Tell me what happened?”
Meg shrugged. “Nothing new. I put my trust in a man, only to regret it again.”
“Your director?”
“Ex-director. I’m leaving the troupe.” She shook her head. “I’ll never learn.”
“Come inside. I’ll pour us some wine.” Gina set two glasses of merlot on the kitchen table then sat across from her friend. “Okay, fill me in.”
Meg sipped her wine and then set down her glass. “I was sure Trevor was my soul mate. He said he’d never met a woman like me.” She snorted. “Which is probably true, but I read more into it than he meant.”
“Ahh.” Gina nodded. “You slept with him.”
Meg groaned and drank more wine. “The last night of our performance, an attractive blond woman and a young girl came backstage to find him. His wife and young daughter. They were going on vacation together for some ‘long-awaited family time.’”
Gina took her friend’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“I should have known better.” Meg shook her head. “They don’t come any dumber than me.”
“You’re not dumb, you’re open and caring. That’s what makes you so fantastic.” Gina drank more wine, too, and plunked her glass down on the table. “And Trevor is a jerk. I wish he were here right now so I could punch him hard.”
Meg laughed. “I’d love to see that. Thanks for making me feel better.”
“You’ve done it for me.” Gina paused. “So, what happens now?”
Meg sighed. “I need to keep busy. They’re holding auditions for a new soap opera I’m going to try out for.”
“Good idea. You’d make a great heroine.”
“I’d make a better villainess.”
Gina’s fishing pole she’d left leaning against the counter hit the floor with a loud smack. She flinched, and Meg jumped. “Yikes! What was that?”
“It’s my old fishing pole.” Gina stood to retrieve her prized keepsake and examine it more closely. Mice had gnawed the cork handle and chewed most of the fishing line.
“It’s kinda beat up,” Meg said from beside her.
“Yeah.” Gina sighed. “It belongs in the trash. But it reminds me of the Christmas morning Jim gave it to me. He put it in my hands and said, ‘For you, Sugar Plum.’”
She smiled. “I was so choked up, I couldn’t talk, so I threw my arms around his neck. He laughed and hugged me back. It was the happiest moment of my life. I felt loved.”
“He sounds like a nice guy.”
“He was.” Her smile faded. “Until he learned Kyle was not really his son. The day he left was the worst day of my life. Kyle’s, too. He never got over it.” Tears threatened, and she felt Meg’s hand gently rubbing her back.”
“Have you talked to Jim since?”
She shook her head and laid her pole on the kitchen counter. “Too many years have passed. But sometimes I wonder where he is now. And if he ever thinks about Kyle and me and regrets leaving us. Mom fell off the wagon when he left and never got back on.”
“Call him,” Meg said.
Gina rubbed her throat. She’d thought about calling Jim many times, but always lost her courage. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You’ll know when the time comes.” Meg put her hands on Gina’s shoulders and turned her to look into her eyes. “Do it now.”
She hesitated then returned to the table and sat in front of her computer. “He grew up in Michigan.”
“A good place to start.”
“I’ll have to search online for his phone number.”
“Go for it.” Meg pulled a chair beside her and sat.
Gina began keying, and when the information came on screen, she debated whether to go through with it or not. There were so many things she wanted to say. You broke our hearts when you left, Jim. And you never said goodbye. Did we mean so little to you?
Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed the portable phone and punched in his number. Her throat tightened as the phone rang several times.
“Hello?” It was the soft voice of a very young boy.
“Hello.” Surprised, Gina hesitated. “I’m calling for Jim.”
“Just a minute.”
The phone clunked down hard, and she winced and covered her ear. A woman’s voice in the background said, “Who is it, Billy?”
“They want Jim.”
“Your grandpa’s in the garage.”
“I’ll get him.”
Gina heard running footsteps then a baby’s happy squeal. “Look at you,” the woman cooed. “You ate all your cracker. Grandma will get you another one.”
“She threw it on the floor, Mom. That means she’s done.” A younger woman’s voice this time.
Hearing their indulgent tone with the baby, Gina cringed. Talking to Jim would tear the scab off a festering wound. All the pain from his abandonment she’d tried to forget would come alive. Jim had another family—a wife and daughter and grandchildren. The last thing he’d want to hear was the voice of a child who wasn’t even his. A child he hadn’t cared enough about to stick around. Gina clicked off the phone, ending the call.
Angry at herself for stirring up an old trauma, she snatched her ratty old fishing pole off the kitchen counter and marched out to the back porch.
Meg followed, staring at her openmouthed as she bent her pole sharply until it snapped in two. “What are you doing?”
Gina swiped at her eyes. “Some things are just not meant to be.”
The kitchen phone rang, but she ignored it as she jammed her fishing pole into the garbage can. Angry tears swam in her eyes. It was time to slam the door on her childhood longing for a loving family. After all these years, it surprised her how much it still hurt.
Meg hurried back into the kitchen and seconds later the phone stopped ringing. When she returned to the porch, she had the receiver in her hand. Eyes wide, she held the phone out to Gina. “It’s Jim.”
…
Will chose the boys’ nightly bath time for their father-sons talk. Ian and Harry faced each other in the tub, arranging their plastic sea animals. A captive audience. “What did you guys have for l
unch today?”
“Peanut butter and jam.”
“Oranges.”
“Did Kristy read you a story?”
The boys fell silent, then Harry ventured a guarded, “No.”
“Why not?”
Harry smashed his dolphin down hard, spraying his brother. Will toweled off Ian’s wet face then tipped up Harry’s chin. “Harry?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t Kristy read you a story?”
Harry squirmed free and frowned down at his seal. “She couldn’t find us.”
Will persisted. “Why couldn’t she find you?”
“We hid.”
Will stroked his chin. “I thought you liked Kristy.”
“She’s no fun.”
“You promised to give her a chance.”
Harry scowled. “She makes us take naps.”
“You always take naps.”
“When we want,” Harry said. “Not when she says.”
“Oh.” Will paused. “Is that all?”
“She doesn’t like water fights.”
“Did she tell you that?”
Harry shook his head. “She got mad when I sprayed her.”
“With the water gun?”
“No, the hose.”
Will fought a smile, for it was no laughing matter. If Kristy didn’t win over Ian and Harry soon, she had to go. He’d promised the boys that. “Two minutes, guys. Then it’s pajamas, stories, and lights out.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Will returned their salutes, then fetched bath towels from the closet. Kristy had seemed like an excellent choice at her interview. Cheerful and young, she’d spent years as a Girl Scout camp counselor and was taking night classes to become a teacher. She seemed wholesome and nice, but Ian and Harry didn’t mind her and liked to play tricks. Today’s defiance had reduced her to tears.
Returning to the bathroom, Will took up where he’d left off. “Remember our talk, guys. We agreed to work together to find a good nanny. Kristy might be lots of fun if you get to know her better.”
“We want Gina to come back,” Harry said.
So did Will. “I wish that could happen, but we all know it can’t. So I need your help. My job is to go to work and make money for us.”
“Can we go to work, too?” Ian asked.
Will shook his head. “Your job is to stay home and stay safe, so I don’t have to worry about you.”
Harry scowled. “That’s not a job.”
“Sure it is. Now, it’s time to get out.” Will wrapped each boy in an oversized bath towel for the nightly dry-off refrain, “Snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug—that’s me!”
Laughing, the boys scampered down the hall to their bedroom. Will followed, snarling like a hungry T. rex. He doubted that Ian and Harry had ever hidden from Gina. She’d been too fun and imaginative. But if they had decided to hide, she wouldn’t have spent the afternoon upset. She’d have thought of a way to lure the boys to her, like cooking something yummy, or starting a favorite movie. Or challenging them to a water fight.
He hadn’t realized how good a nanny she actually was until he’d tried to replace her. Despite her limited experience, she’d had a knack with the boys.
He was helping the boys into their pajamas when the phone rang. “Choose two stories, guys. I’ll just be a minute.”
He walked to his bedroom and picked up the extension.
“Hello, Will.”
At the sound of Gina’s voice, his heart stilled. He sank down on the bed. “Hello, Gina.”
Despite his efforts to forget her, she was always on his mind. At home, at work, in the early morning hours. He had not expected to hear from her again.
“I called to ask about the boys. Are they okay?”
“They’re fine.” But they miss you like hell. So do I.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She paused. “Have you found a new nanny?”
“Yes. She’s young and plans to become a teacher.”
“So, they like her.”
“She keeps them busy.” Hiding out, being naughty.
Hearing Gina’s voice brought back things he’d worked hard to forget—her laugh and sense of fun, her intelligence and imagination. His grip tightened on the phone.
“I won’t keep you, but I’ve been thinking about you and the boys and hoping you were doing well.”
He believed her. Despite her unforgiveable deception, her affection for Ian and Harry was genuine. Her disloyalty to him and her lies had been the problem.
Sensing she was about to end the call, he was anxious to keep her on the line. A dangerous urge, but at the moment, he didn’t care. “Gina, I had a thought I’d like to run past you.”
“Sure. What is it?”
Adrenalin surged within him the way it always did when he faced something high-risk. Like climbing a sheer rock wall. Or throwing a Hail Mary on fourth and long. Or seeing Gina again. “I have a problem. Maybe you can help with the boys.”
“Of course, I’ll do anything.”
He was sure she would but questioned whether it would be right. “My college football team is having a reunion in Pasadena in two weeks.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’ll be out of town five days, and I had planned to take the boys and their new nanny with me.” He paused. “Today, I realized that plan won’t work.” Not with the boys running away and hiding from Kristy. Leaving them at home with her wasn’t an option, either.
“So you need someone to stay in your home and watch them?”
“Yes.”
“For five days.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d be glad to do it.”
He clamped down on the anticipation stirring within him. Go easy. You’ve gotta think like a dad. The boys would love having Gina stay with them, but they’d have to tell her goodbye all over again. And they might be more likely to reject future nannies.
The risk of starting something he’d later regret brought a frown. As much as he still might want Gina in his life and in his bed, he could never forget her betrayal.
“Let’s both think about this idea some more,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“All right… Will?”
“Yes?”
“You can trust me.”
Could he? That was the question he had to answer before letting her anywhere near his sons. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and hung up.
…
Gina visited Kyle the following Saturday, for perhaps the last time. He shuffled toward her, unshaven, his clothes rumpled, and she bit back her instinctive need to console. She had to stop seeing him as a troubled boy in need of protection. He was a grown man who had consequences to face.
He sat down across from her, his eyes dull and lacking hope. “I’m surprised to see you after what you said last time.”
“It was the first honest conversation we’ve had in a long time.”
He scowled. “I could have done without it.”
A strained silence fell, and she folded her hands in her lap. “I have good news.”
He flashed her a bitter smile. “Let me guess. The governor just signed my pardon.”
“No. I’m in contact with Jim.”
He stilled. “Jim who?”
“Jim Redeker, your father.”
“He’s no father of mine. Why would you want to contact that creep?”
“To learn the truth.”
“The truth is he got bored with our happy little family and bailed.”
She shook her head. “He tells it differently.”
Kyle sneered. “I wouldn’t believe anything he said.”
“I thought you’d like to hear his side of things.”
“Sorry, not interested.”
She exhaled slowly. She hadn’t expected this to be easy. “It’s not as though there’s a whole lot going on for you right now.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
She stood and looked down at him, slumped resentfu
lly in his chair. “Coming today was a mistake. I’ll leave you alone to wallow in your self-pity.” She turned and started for the exit.
She had taken only a few steps when he called out, “Gina, wait!”
When she turned back, he gestured toward her chair. “Come back and sit down.”
She hesitated.
“Please.” His scrunched-up expression showed how much it cost him to say the word.
“The attitude has to go, Kyle, or I’m out of here.”
He nodded. “Okay. I’m lonely and depressed. So, I’ll listen, if you buy me sweets.”
It wasn’t much of a concession, but she walked back to the table.
Kyle got his candy bars then returned to sit across from her. “So, tell me about good ol’ Jim.”
She leaned toward him. “Jim has another family. His young grandson answered the phone.”
Kyle stopped chewing. “Is this your good news?”
“No. Hearing his happy family talking in the background, I got discouraged, just like you, and hung up before he came to the phone. But he recognized my name on his caller ID and called back right away.”
Kyle drummed his fingertips on the table, looking bored. She reached out and stilled his hand. “Here’s the amazing part. Jim was thrilled that I called. He said he’d always worried about what happened to us.”
Kyle snorted. “Like he cared.”
“He did care. But he couldn’t stay with us because of Mom.”
“Oh, right. Now it’s Mom’s fault.” Kyle pulled his hand free of hers. “It’s no longer because I wasn’t his son.”
“It never was. That was Mom’s twisted tale.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Did you know that Jim was a recovering alcoholic? He met Mom at an AA meeting.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So when Mom relapsed, he couldn’t be around her. He had to go, or he’d relapse, too.”
Kyle grimaced. “He could have taken us. We weren’t alcoholics.”
“He planned to,” she said. “He went back to his hometown in Michigan and got a place for us, with the help of his parents. By the time he came back for us, we were gone. Evicted. Mom moved us from Oregon to Washington, and he couldn’t find us.”
Kyle shook his head. “That’s baloney, Sis. Mom told him I wasn’t his, and he didn’t want me anymore.”
