A Mother's Wish

by Debbie Macomber

  Doing her best to pretend she hadn’t seen him, Robin took another bite of her salad and chewed vigorously. When she glanced up again, Cole was gone.

  “Mom, I need someone to practice with,” Jeff pleaded. He stood forlornly in front of her, a baseball mitt in one hand, a ball in the other.

  “I thought Jimmy was practicing with you.”

  “He had to go home and then Kelly threw me a few pitches, but she had to go home, too. Besides, she’s a girl.”

  “And what am I?” Robin muttered.

  “You’re a mom,” Jeff answered, clearly not understanding her question. “Don’t you see? I’ve got a chance of making pitcher for our team if I can get someone to practice with me.”

  “All right,” Robin agreed, grumbling a bit. She set aside her knitting and followed her son into the backyard. He handed her his old catcher’s mitt, which barely fit her hand, and positioned her with her back to Cole’s yard.

  Robin hadn’t been able to completely avoid her neighbor in the past week, but she’d succeeded in keeping her distance. For that matter, he didn’t seem all that eager to run into her, either. Just as well, she supposed.

  He stayed on his side of the hedge. She stayed on hers.

  If he passed her on his way to work, he gave an absent wave. She returned the gesture.

  If they happened to be outside at the same time, they exchanged smiles and a polite greeting, but nothing more. It seemed, although Robin couldn’t be sure, that Cole spent less time outside than usual. So did she.

  “Okay,” Jeff called, running to the end of their yard. “Squat down.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Robin shouted indignantly. “I agreed to play catch with you. You didn’t say anything about having to squat!”

  “Mom,” Jeff said impatiently, “think about it. If I’m going to be the pitcher, you’ve got to be the catcher, and catchers have to be low to the ground.”

  Complaining under her breath, Robin sank to her knees, worried the grass would stain her jeans.

  Jeff tossed his arms into the air in frustration. “Not like that!” He said something else that Robin couldn’t quite make out—something about why couldn’t moms be guys.

  Reluctantly, Robin assumed the posture he wanted, but she didn’t know how long her knees would hold out. Jeff wound up his arm and let loose with a fastball. Robin closed her eyes, stuck out the mitt and was so shocked when she caught the ball that she toppled backward into the wet grass.

  “You all right?” Jeff yelled, racing toward her.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she shouted back, discounting his concern as she brushed the dampness from the seat of her jeans. She righted herself, assumed the position and waited for the second ball.

  Jeff ran back to his mock pitcher’s mound, gripped both hands behind his back and stepped forward. Robin closed her eyes again. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes cautiously, puzzled about the delay. Then she recalled the hand movements she’d seen pitchers make and flexed her fingers a few times.

  Jeff straightened, placed his hand on his hip and stared at her. “What was that for?”

  “It’s a signal … I think. I’ve seen catchers do it on TV.”

  “Mom, leave that kind of stuff to the real ballplayers. All I want you to do is catch my pitches and throw them back. It might help if you kept your eyes open, too.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.”

  Robin suspected she heard a tinge of sarcasm in her son’s voice. She didn’t know what he was getting so riled up about; she was doing her best. It was at times like these that she most longed for Lenny. When her parents had still lived in the area, her dad had stepped in whenever her son needed a father’s guiding hand, but they’d moved to Arizona a couple of years ago. Lenny’s family had been in Texas since before his death. Robin hadn’t seen them since the funeral, although Lenny’s mother faithfully sent Jeff birthday and Christmas gifts.

  “You ready?” Jeff asked.

  “Ready.” Squinting, Robin stuck out the mitt, prepared to do her best to catch the stupid ball, since it seemed so important to her son. Once more he swung his arms behind him and stepped forward. Then he stood there, poised to throw, for what seemed an eternity. Her knees were beginning to ache.

  “Are you going to throw the ball, or are you going to stare at me all night?” she asked after a long moment had passed.

  “That does it!” Jeff tossed his mitt to the ground. “You just broke my concentration.”

  “Well, for crying out loud, what’s there to concentrate on?” Robin grimaced, rising awkwardly to her feet. Her legs had started to lose feeling.

  “This isn’t working,” Jeff cried, stalking toward her. “Kelly’s only in third grade and she does a better job than you do.”

  Robin decided to ignore that comment. She pressed her hand to the small of her back, hoping to ease the ache she’d begun to feel.

  “Hello, Robin. Jeff.”

  Cole’s voice came at her like a hangman’s noose. She straightened abruptly and winced at the sharp pain shooting through her back.

  “Hi, Mr. Camden!” Jeff shouted as though Cole was a conquering hero returned from the war. He dashed across the yard, past Robin and straight to the hedge. “Where have you been all week?”

  “I’ve been busy.” He might’ve been talking to Jeff, but his eyes were holding Robin’s. She tried to look away—but she couldn’t.

  His eyes told her she was avoiding him.

  Hers answered that he’d been avoiding her.

  “I guess you have been busy,” Jeff was saying. “I haven’t seen you in days and days and days.” Blackie squeezed through the hedge and Jeff fell to his knees, his arms circling the dog’s neck.

  “So how’s the baseball going?” Cole asked.

  Jeff sent his mother a disgusted look, then shrugged. “All right, I guess.”

  “What position are you playing?”

  “Probably outfield. I had a chance to make pitcher, but I can’t seem to get anyone who knows how to catch a ball to practice with me. Kelly tries, but she’s a girl and I hate to say it, but my mother’s worthless.”

  “I did my best,” Robin protested.

  “She catches with her eyes closed,” Jeff said.

  “How about if you toss a few balls at me?” Cole offered.

  Jeff blinked as if he thought he’d misunderstood. “You want me to throw you a few pitches? You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  The look on her son’s face defied description as Cole jumped over the hedge. Jeff’s smile stretched from one side of his face to the other as he tore to the opposite end of the yard, unwilling to question Cole’s generosity a second time.

  For an awkward moment, Robin stayed where she was, not knowing what to say. She looked up at Cole, her emotions soaring—and tangling like kites in a brisk wind. She was deeply grateful for his offer, but also confused. Thrilled by his presence, but also frightened.

  “Mom?” Jeff muttered. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re in the way.”

  “Are you going to make coffee and invite me in for a chat later?” Cole asked quietly.

  Her heart sank. “I have some things that need to be done, and … and … “

  “Mom?” Jeff shouted.

  “I think it’s time you and I talked,” Cole said, staring straight into her eyes.

  “Mom, are you moving or not?”

  Robin looked frantically over her shoulder. “Oh … oh, sorry,” she whispered, blushing. She hurried away, then stood on the patio watching as the ball flew across the yard.

  After catching a dozen of Jeff’s pitches, Cole got up and walked over to her son. They spoke for several minutes. Reluctantly, Robin decided it was time to go back in.

  She busied herself wiping kitchen counters that were already perfectly clean and tried to stop thinking about the beautiful woman she’d seen with Cole on the Wharf.

  Jeff stormed into the house. “Mom, would it be o
kay if Mr. Camden strings up an old tire from the apple tree?”

  “I suppose. Why?”

  “He said I can use it to practice pitching, and I wouldn’t have to bother you or Kelly.”

  “I don’t think I have an old tire.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Camden has one.” He ran outside again before she could comment.

  Jeff was back in the yard with Cole a few minutes later, far too soon to suit Robin. She forced a weak smile. That other woman was a perfect damsel to his knight in shining armor, she thought wryly. Robin, on the other hand, considered herself more of a court jester.

  Her musings were abruptly halted when Cole walked into the kitchen, trailed by her son.

  “Isn’t it time for your bath, Jeff?” Cole asked pointedly.

  It looked for a minute as though the boy was going to argue. For the first time in recent memory, Robin would’ve welcomed some resistance from him.

  “I guess,” he said. Bathing was about as popular as homework.

  “I didn’t make any coffee,” Robin said in a small voice. She simply couldn’t look at Cole and not see the beautiful blonde on his arm.

  “That’s fine. I’m more interested in talking, anyway,” he said. He walked purposefully to the table and pulled out a chair, then gestured for her to sit down.

  Robin didn’t. Instead, she frowned at her watch. “My goodness, will you look at the time?”

  “No.” Cole headed toward her, and Robin backed slowly into the counter.

  “We’re going talk about that kiss,” Cole warned her.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. “It meant nothing! We’d both had a hectic week. We were tired …. I wasn’t myself.”

  Cole’s eyes burned into hers. “Then why did you cry?”

  “I … don’t know. Believe me, if I knew I’d tell you, but I don’t. Can’t we just forget it ever happened?”

  His shoulders rose in a sigh as he threaded his long fingers through his hair. “That’s exactly what I’ve tried to do all week. Unfortunately it didn’t work.”

  Five

  “I’ve put it completely out of my mind,” Robin said, resuming her string of untruths. “I wish you’d do the same.”

  “I can’t. Trust me, I’ve tried,” Cole told her softly. He smiled and his sensuous mouth widened as his eyes continued to hold hers. The messages were back. Less than subtle messages. You can’t fool me, they said, and I didn’t want to admit it either.

  “I …”

  The sense of expectancy was written across his face. For the life of her, Robin couldn’t tear her eyes from him.

  She didn’t remember stepping into his arms, but suddenly she was there, encompassed by his warmth, feeling more sheltered and protected than she had since her husband’s death. This comforting sensation spun itself around her as he wove his fingers into her hair, cradling her head. He hadn’t kissed her yet, but Robin felt the promise of it in every part of her.

  Deny it though she might, she knew in her heart how badly she wanted Cole to hold her, to kiss her. He must have read the longing in her eyes, because he lowered his mouth to hers, stopping a fraction of an inch from her parted lips. She could feel warm moist breath, could feel a desire so powerful that she wanted to drown in his kiss.

  From a reservoir of strength she didn’t know she possessed, Robin managed to shake her head. “No … please.”

  “Yes … please,” he whispered just before his mouth settled firmly over hers.

  His kiss was the same as it had been before, only more intense. More potent. Robin felt rocked to the very core of her being. Against her will, she felt herself surrendering to him. She felt herself forgetting to breathe. She felt herself weakening.

  His mouth moved to her jaw, dropping small, soft kisses there. She sighed. She couldn’t help it. Cole’s touch was magic. Unable to stop herself, she turned her head, yearning for him to trace a row of kisses on the other side, as well. He complied.

  Robin sighed again, her mind filled with dangerous, sensuous thoughts. It felt so good in his arms, so warm and safe … but she knew the feeling was deceptive. She’d seen him with another woman, one far more suited to him than she could ever be. For days she’d been tormented by the realization that the woman in the restaurant was probably the one he spent his weekends with.

  “No, please don’t.” Once more she pleaded, but even to her own ears the words held little conviction.

  In response, Cole brought a long slow series of feather-light kisses to her lips, effectively silencing any protest. Robin trembled, breathless.

  “Why are you fighting me so hard?” he whispered. His hands framed her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. They were damp and she hadn’t even known she was crying.

  Suddenly she heard footsteps bounding down the stairs. At the thought of Jeff finding her in Cole’s arms, she abruptly broke away and turned to stare out the darkened window, hoping for a moment to compose herself.

  Jeff burst into the room. “Did you kiss her yet?” he demanded. Not waiting for an answer, Jeff ran toward Robin and grabbed her by the hand. “Well, Mom, what do you think?”

  “About … what?”

  “Mr. Camden kissing you. He did, didn’t he?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to deny the whole thing, but she decided to brazen it out. “You want me to rate him? Like on a scale of one to ten?”

  Jeff blinked, uncertain. His questioning glance flew to Cole.

  “She was a ten,” Cole said, grinning.

  “A … high seven,” Robin returned.

  “A high seven!” Jeff cried, casting her a disparaging look. He shook his head and walked over to Cole. “She’s out of practice,” he said confidingly. “Doesn’t know how to rate guys. Give her a little time and she’ll come around.”

  “Jeff,” Robin gasped, astounded to be having this kind of discussion with her son, let alone Cole, who was looking all too smug.

  “She hardly goes out at all,” Jeff added. “My mom’s got this friend who arranges dates for her, and you wouldn’t believe some of the guys she’s been stuck with. One of them came to the door—”

  “Jeff,” Robin said sharply, “that’s enough!”

  “But one of us needs to tell him!”

  “Mr. Camden was just leaving,” Robin said, glaring at her neighbor, daring him to contradict her.

  “I was? Oh, yeah. Your mom was about to walk me to the door, isn’t that right, Robin?”

  She gaped at Cole as he reached for her hand and gently led her in the direction of the front door. Meekly she submitted, but not before she saw Jeff give Cole a thumbs-up.

  “Now,” Cole said, standing in the entryway, his hands heavy on her shoulders. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

  “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

  “It’s because of Victoria, isn’t it?”

  “Victoria?” she asked, already knowing that had to be the woman with him the day she’d seen him at the restaurant.

  “Yes. Victoria. I saw you practically hiding under your table, pretending you didn’t notice me.”

  “I … Why should I care?” She hated the way her voice shook.

  “Yes, why should you?”

  She didn’t answer him. Couldn’t answer him. She told herself it didn’t matter that he was with another woman. Then again, it mattered more than she dared admit.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  Robin lowered her gaze. If only he’d stop holding her, stop touching her. Then she might be able to think clearly. “You looked right together. She was a perfect complement to you. She’s tall and blond and—”

  “Cold as an iceberg. Victoria’s a business associate—we had lunch together. Nothing more. I find her as appealing as … as dirty laundry.”

  “Please, don’t explain. It’s none of my business who you have lunch with or who you date or where you go every weekend or who you’re with. Really. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why I did. It was wrong of me—very wro
ng. I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”

  Jeff poked his head out from the kitchen. “How are things going in here?”

  “Good,” Robin said. “I was just telling Cole how much we both appreciated his help with your pitching.”

  “I was having real problems until Cole came along,” Jeff confirmed. “Girls are okay for some things, but serious baseball isn’t one of them.”

  Robin opened the front door. “Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes avoiding Cole’s, “for everything.”

  “Everything?”

  She blushed, remembering the kisses they’d shared. But before she could think of a witty reply, Cole brushed his lips across hers.

  “Hey, Cole,” Jeff said, hurrying to the front door. “I’ve got a baseball game Thursday night. Can you come?”

  “I’d love to,” Cole answered, his eyes holding Robin’s. Then he turned abruptly and strode out the door.

  “Jeff, we’re going to be late for the game if we don’t leave now.”

  “But Cole isn’t home yet,” Jeff protested. “He said he’d be here.”

  “There’s probably a very good explanation,” Robin said calmly, although she was as disappointed as Jeff. “He could be tied up in traffic, or delayed at the office, or any one of a thousand other things. He wouldn’t purposely not come.”

  “Do you think he forgot?”

  “I’m sure he didn’t. Come on, sweetheart, let’s get a move on. You’ve got a game to pitch.” The emphasis came on the last word. The first game of the season and Jeff had won the coveted position of first-string pitcher. Whether it was true or not, Jeff believed Cole’s tutoring had given him an advantage over the competition. Jeff hadn’t told him the news yet, keeping it a surprise for today.

  “When you do see Cole, don’t say anything, all right?” Jeff pleaded as they headed toward the car. “I want to be the one who tells him.”