“We wouldn’t be no trouble,” Rulli said. “Angie makes my breakfast so you don’t gotta get up early.”
Pat turned to the kids, stooping down to look in their faces. What could he say to them—your father hated me and would never let me have you if he had a say in the matter?
“I don’t have a way to take care of you kids,” Pat said slowly. “You know, I work long hours and travel a lot. You can’t be by yourself that much.”
“We ain’t afraid,” Rulli said. “And you could get a dog to guard us.”
The want in the boy’s eyes matched the need in Pat’s heart. But it wasn’t that simple. Even if he ignored Angel’s wishes in the matter, would it be the best thing for the kids? Angel had said Pat didn’t know how to love, and what if he was right? Could Pat risk Angie and Rulli’s happiness on the chance that Angel had been wrong?
Angie was pulling her brother back. “He don’t want us, Rulli,” she said, her tone harsh and unforgiving.
“It’s not that at all,” Pat protested. And it wasn’t. “I’ll support you two. Money’s no problem.”
“Maybe we could—” Rulli began.
“Rulli,” Angie snapped, cutting him off. “We don’t beg. Remember? Daddy wouldn’t want us to.”
Pat swallowed hard, the lump of pain in his chest making it almost impossible for him to breathe. “You remember him?”
Angie gave him a look. “Sure I remember him. And I remember he didn’t like you, neither.”
It was as if a knife had gone through Pat’s heart. Angel had never forgiven him. He slowly stood up as Angie grabbed Rulli’s hand.
“Come on, Rulli. It’s time to go home.” She dragged him down the steps to where their aunt stood. The three of them turned and walked across the parking lot.
Pat just watched them go, vaguely aware that the rest of the crowd was dispersing, too. All he could hear were Angie’s words echoing in his head. He didn’t like you, neither.
* * *
“It’ll be so easy,” Trisha was saying, the excitement inside her bubbling over as she tore down streamers from the study room. “You can hire a housekeeper. You have so much room she can live in. We’ll even help you find the right person.”
The club was empty; all the revelers had gone home. Clarissa and some of the other workers had helped clean up and had finally left. Trisha and Pat were the only ones there, tearing down the last few decorations.
“Why, offhand, I can think of a half-dozen women who would be just wonderful,” she went on. “Ones you could really trust with the kids.”
“It’s not that simple,” Pat said. His voice sounded weary.
“But it’s not that hard, either.”
His reply was to yank the plastic garbage bag out of the can and twist the top sharply. He looked so tired that Trisha wanted to take him into her arms and hold him through the night. She wanted to make him feel safe and warm and protected, just as he would make the kids feel. But they had work to do first.
“Why did she wait so long to tell me?” he asked.
Trisha started on the streamers around her office door. “She didn’t know that was you in the news. She doesn’t belong to the chamber of commerce. You and she move in different circles.”
“I guess.” The stumble in Pat’s voice said he was still in shock. “It’s just so hard to take in.”
“I know.” Trisha’s laughter floated across the room. “It’s like a dream come true.”
“Not hardly.”
She stopped her cleaning to frown at him. “I don’t understand. This is your chance to make it up to Angel. He would want you to care for his kids.”
Pat laughed then, a long and bitter sound. “I know exactly what Angel would want,” he said. “For me to stay the hell out of their lives.”
“That can’t be true!”
Pat gave out a weary sigh. “This isn’t the movies, Trisha. Everything doesn’t necessarily work out neatly in the end. You heard Angie—Angel didn’t like me. Even his kids knew it.”
Trisha shook her head. “I also heard Rose say he went to your games and was proud of you.”
“That was school spirit, not family pride,” he said.
“Angie must have been two when Angel died. I doubt she remembers him, let alone his feelings about someone she’d never met.”
“Maybe those feelings were really strong,” Pat said. He leaned against the wall, his eyes looking far into the past. “The last time I saw Angel was at our father’s funeral. We were both juniors—me in college, him in high school. I’d wanted to go to school locally so I could keep an eye on him, but he’d turned me down real thoroughly. He wasn’t going to live with our grandmother, wasn’t going to switch to a school district with a better college prep record, wasn’t going to leave his loser friends.”
“Maybe they weren’t losers to him,” she pointed out.
Pat came back to the present to shrug. “Whatever. He pretty much told me at that time to go to hell. I went to Texas instead on a football scholarship. I came home the first summer but it was like we were strangers. He didn’t care if I was around, so I stopped trying. No use beating your head into a stone wall. But when Dad died, all I heard was how I’d abandoned them.”
Pat paused and took a deep, ragged breath before going on. “He said I had no feelings. That I was cold and selfish and thought only about money, and not about people, and he was never going to be like me. That people mattered to him, even people who weren’t rich and successful, but drunk half the time.”
Trisha winced at the words, and at the raw pain in Pat’s voice. “He was upset,” she tried to point out.
“He was right,” Pat said. His voice was dead, as if so much inside him was, too.
“No, he wasn’t,” Trisha cried out. “You have lots of love in you. Maybe too much. Every time you lost someone you loved or they seemed to reject you, you built up more defenses. You’re like that now and you have to have been like that as a kid. You had too many hurts.”
“This is crazy,” he said and stood. “You’ve only known me for a month or two. Take my word for it, I’m not good with relationships.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said. “And I never will. No matter what Angel said to you, he would want you to take care of his kids.”
“I will take care of them. I’ll set up a trust fund for them. They’ll be financially secure until they’re fully educated adults.”
“Money isn’t the important thing,” Trisha said.
Pat stood there staring at her. “No, it isn’t,” he said slowly. “And this isn’t about money at all. It’s about truth. The truth is that if I stay around, I’ll only end up hurting you and the kids. Angel knew me better than anyone else on this earth and I’m not willing to gamble anyone’s happiness that he was wrong about me.”
She frowned at him, confused by the sudden turn of the conversation. “What’s this ‘hurting me and the kids’ nonsense?”
“Trying not to hurt others isn’t nonsense.”
Her stomach was suddenly in knots. This had nothing to do with the kids. Fear tried for the upper hand, but she grabbed at annoyance instead. He was trying to dump her! Well, she’d see who dumped who.
“Save your dramatics,” she snapped. “The macho martyr role doesn’t suit you. I’ve heard it too many times to be impressed.”
He stiffened up even more. “I’m sorry my attempts to spare you pain are boring.”
“Spare me pain? If that isn’t just like a man!”
Her irritation was growing by leaps and bounds, but it was mostly with herself. She should have seen this coming. His moodiness the last week, the sense that he’d become suddenly distant—they all pointed to his pulling away from her. But she’d denied it, refused to admit that there was trouble in paradise.
“What’s just like a man?”
She would not let him see the pain that was creeping along, stealing every shred of happiness that was ever in her heart. “Oh, never mind,” she sa
id and turned away, stripping the crepe paper streamers from the doorway with a vengeance. “It wasn’t like this was an all-time-and-forever thing anyway. Neither of us wanted that. It was an Indian summer romance and Indian summer’s over at Halloween. Very fitting.”
“I must say you’re taking this well.”
She managed to smile at him just for a second. “Sure, why not? I’m a big girl. I know when something’s over, it’s over.”
“I see.”
She stuffed the last of the decorations into a garbage bag, the festive trappings all crumpled and smashed like her heart. “Want to drop these in the Dumpster out back on your way out?”
She didn’t wait to see him grab up the two bags before he left, but went back into the study room. Her footsteps echoed hollowly in the emptiness as slow tears wove their way down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what had happened. She must have pushed too hard. Or not hard enough.
Maybe he wanted somebody taller or shorter. Blonder or darker. Maybe she was too serious, or too rooted to the area. Maybe he was allergic to cats.
Hell, talk about being lousy at relationships. She was downright pitiful. It was just as well that he wanted to end it now. Any longer and she would have had her heart all entangled. Then it really would have hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
“Here,” Mrs. Harris said. “Look for yourself.”
The old woman pushed the official-looking papers across the scarred kitchen table toward Pat, but there was no reason for him to look. He knew what he was going to see.
“See? Maggie was their mother. But you see here? In the box for the father?”
“I know, Mrs. Harris. I never doubted that Angel was the father,” Pat said.
The old woman nodded and pulled back the papers, a tear running down each cheek. Pat wished that Trisha were here. She was good at handling people when their emotions were on the edge.
But she wasn’t here to help him and wouldn’t be again. It was for the best.
“Angie really looks like him, you know,” Mrs. Harris said. “Rulli, he kinda takes after our side.”
Pat cleared his throat. “Actually, he resembles my mother,” he said. “His grandmother.”
“That so?” The old woman scraped together the photographs spread over the kitchen table. Some were of the kids as they neared their present age, but most were of Angel, Maggie and the two babies. For Pat, it had hurt to see them, see their happiness and know that Angel hadn’t thought enough of him to share it with him even slightly.
“Angie and Rulli.” Mr. Harris paused for breath. His emphysema seemed well advanced. “They’re really good kids.”
Pat’s stomach did a two-and-a-half forward twist. “I know,” Pat said. “I can tell.”
“They ain’t had a lot, but they never complain,” Mr. Harris went on softly.
“I’m going to make sure they get the best from now on. The best care and the best education.” Pat looked down and found his finger playing with a scratch in the tabletop. He had to remind himself what Angel would have wanted. If it was the last thing Pat did, he was going to follow Angel’s wishes.
“I had a meeting with the social worker this morning,” Pat said. “We’re going to work together to get things all straightened out. You know, find a good home for the kids. She said it shouldn’t be hard, especially since I’m going to set up a trust fund for them.”
Mrs. Harris’s eyes glistened. “This is such a good thing you’re doing.”
Then why did he feel so lousy?
“We love ‘em and all,” Mr. Harris said. “But what could we give ‘em?”
All the things that Pat couldn’t. Pat tried to swallow and found he couldn’t. Hacking roughly, he cleared his throat. “You gave them a lot,” he said. “And I hope that you’ll stay in touch with them, Mrs. Harris.”
“Call me Rose, Pat. We’re family, ain’t we?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “We’re family.” He paused a moment and tried to will the ache in his throat away. “I really want what’s best for Angie and Rulli. They’re going to get all the advantages life has to offer.”
“You’re a good man, Pat,” Mr. Harris said. “A real good brother.”
It was time to go. Not cut and run—he’d abandoned his plan to call Toledo about that job offer. He was going to do his best for the kids, but it was time to get out of here before Mr. and Mrs. Harris started fitting him for a halo.
“Well,” Pat said, making a show of looking at his watch. “I really need to be going.”
“Yeah,” Mrs. Harris replied, nodding slowly.
“I wanted to let you know if there’s anything the kids need now—”
She shook her head.
“Or there’s anything that needs to be covered,” he said, trying for a diplomatic way of offering to pay for past care.
But again Mrs. Harris shook her head.
“Okay.” Pat stood up and put his business card on the table, the one with his home and business numbers. “If you need anything, just call.”
Mr. Harris ignored the card. “Rulli, you know he gets earaches a lot.”
“I didn’t know,” Pat said. “I’ll call around for a good doctor to have him checked out.”
“And that Angie,” Mr. Harris went on. “She’s a nice kid, you know, but sometimes she ain’t that easy to get along with. She’s got a real mouth on her. Big enough to flatten a couple big guys, once she gets her dander up.”
“Yeah.” A smile flickered on Pat’s lips, then just as suddenly he felt sick. Now was not the time to get sentimental about things. “Let me know if you or the kids need anything. You can call me any time of the day or night. My people can always get ahold of me.”
Then he hurried out of the house as fast as he could. He had never felt so miserable in his life.
Angel should be happy at last.
* * *
“What are you drawing, Rulli?” Trisha asked.
“Nothin’.”
She looked down at his paper and found that Rulli was telling the truth. The only thing on his paper was a scrawl of circles and zigzag lines.
“I guess you don’t feel like drawing today. Want to play Ping-Pong?”
“Nah.”
Poor little guy. Trisha was feeling rather lost herself. It hurt almost more than she could bear, this sudden loneliness. But she was an adult. She could handle it. Besides which, she knew the break from Pat was for the best. And if she forgot that for a weak, silly moment, she reminded herself as fast as could be.
It’s not as if she and Pat had been going anywhere. And they hadn’t been suited, not really. They’d both been too dedicated to their jobs also. They’d been friends, good friends even. But neither of them had been looking for anything permanent. So it had worked out just fine, as her heart would realize one of these days.
Just as Rulli would. He couldn’t conceive that his life was about to change for the better. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to live in Pat’s big house and was disappointed.
“We have new books,” she told the boy. “Would you like to look at them?”
“Nah.” He got up and went across the room, joining a crowd watching two of the older kids play Ping-Pong.
As she was staring at Rulli, another body bumped into her. She looked down to see Angie’s smiling face. Obviously, she wasn’t suffering from the same depression Rulli was. “Boy, you look pretty chipper today.”
“Yep,” Angie said. “I’m gonna take care of everything. I’m gonna get me a plan.”
“Oh?” Trisha didn’t know if that should worry her.
“Yep. Pat can really be a butthead sometimes,” Angie said. “But he’s our butthead now.”
“I guess,” Trisha said cautiously.
“So whether I want to or not, it’s time to do something.”
This didn’t sound good. At least not for Pat. “And what’s that mean?”
Angie shrugged. “That me and Rulli are gonna live with him—he just don’t know
it yet.”
Trisha frowned at the girl. “Pat has reasons why he thinks it would be better for you to live with someone else. A two-parent family would be able to give you both the support you need.”
Angie gave Trisha an odd look. “If you married him, you guys would be a two-parent family.”
A strange mixture of emotions washed over Trisha. Terror at the idea of a lifetime commitment, of trusting someone with her happiness forever. Ecstasy at the idea of sharing her life with Pat.
An idea he did not share. Reality came back just in time.
“That’s not going to happen, young lady,” Trisha said briskly. “Maybe you should focus on all the good that will happen now.”
Angie shook her head. “Rulli’s got it in his silly head that living with Pat is what he wants, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
“Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, you can’t have it,” Trisha said. Those seemed like words for her to remember.
“That’s pig barf,” Angie said. “You ain’t never wanted something bad enough.”
Trisha just stared at the girl as she stomped away.
“Angie sharing her wisdom with you?”
Trisha tried to force a smile as she walked along with Clarissa. “Why do I have the feeling that girl knows more about life than I do?”
“Maybe life has had time to teach you about all the things you don’t know,” Clarissa said. “Angie’s still got some lessons ahead of her.”
“I get the feeling she’s going to learn them differently from me.”
“Don’t we all learn our own way?”
Clarissa was too philosophical for Trisha. She just walked back into her office and sank into her chair, frowning at the growing stack of paperwork on her desk.
Clarissa followed, sitting across from her and kicking off her shoes. “Those kids don’t have a clue how good life’s going to get.”
Kisses And Kids (Congratulations Series #1) Page 23
