by Hill, Teresa
Rebecca was beginning to see why the place above the garage hadn't looked so bad to him.
She watched him and wondered if things had always been this way between his parents and why she hadn't noticed it before. She and Tucker hadn't spent much time with them, though. They'd been around for the wedding, of course, but she'd been so caught up in Tucker, she'd barely known her own name. Still, this kind of acrimony was practically impossible to miss. And she found herself wanting, oddly, to protect her husband, a man she'd never imagined needing anything like protection from her.
"Has it always been this way?" she asked him quietly when he hauled in yet another box.
"No." He smiled despite everything and kissed her forehead. "It used to be worse. They used to really hate each other. And when I was a child, I couldn't get out of their way as easily as I can now."
He said it lightly, and she saw a remnant of the happy-go-lucky man she'd married. But the whole thing had to hurt him. It had to.
"Do they always have to outdo each other?"
For all that she hadn't noticed them before fighting over their son, she knew about their tendencies well. Ever since his parents had rediscovered their grandson, they'd showered him with presents. When Rebecca's house wouldn't hold any more, and when she couldn't talk them out of sending more, she'd started taking the toys to a homeless shelter downtown.
All those presents, yet they'd found little time to spend with Sammy. Didn't they know that things couldn't make up for their time?
"Not always," Tucker said over his shoulder on his way back outside for more boxes. "My father wasn't that fond of paying child support after they split, and for the first few years, my mother couldn't match anything my father gave me. But my mother made a wonderful martyr then."
Rebecca could easily imagine his mother the martyr, but the idea that she and Tucker had struggled to make ends meet was a surprise. Tucker's father was a well-to-do man, and for as long as she'd known his mother, the woman had been married to a man who owned a department-store chain.
Of course, it probably explained why Tucker had insisted on paying alimony when they'd divorced. When Rebecca had refused to accept it, he'd paid a ridiculously large amount in child support, instead, no doubt thinking that it would be enough to support an ex-wife as well as a child.
Tucker wouldn't be very happy to know that Rebecca hadn't touched the money in years. It was accumulating in a mutual fund account for Sammy, whose net worth was definitely much higher than his mother's.
* * *
When Tucker's mother finally left, and with his father gone for pizza, Tucker stared at the boxes in his living room. He'd forgotten how bad it could get between his mother and his father. He hadn't had the misfortune to be in the same room with them for years. He knew better.
He scowled. His hands were displaying a fine tremor he didn't care for, yet couldn't seem to control. You'd think a grown man wouldn't let his parents get to him this way.
He heard footsteps behind him, then remembered that Rebecca was still here, that she heard the whole thing. Then he felt her hand on his back.
"I don't know how you stood it," she said.
He stiffened. "Don't pity me, Rebecca. It's the last thing I want from you."
Her hand stayed there, pressed against his back, stroking up and down in a soothing motion. It was the first time he could remember since his return that she'd reached out and touched him first.
"It's not pity," she said. "I'm just worried about you. And I'm wondering how I missed seeing all this animosity while we were married."
"I didn't want you to see it," he said. It had been a closely guarded secret of his, because his parents embodied the things he'd feared most for his relationship with her.
If he'd been a stronger man, he would have walked away from her before they ever got involved. He'd have been much safer with someone else, anyone else he didn't need as much as he needed Rebecca.
"I'm sorry." He closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's all right."
She put her arms around him from behind and leaned her head against his shoulder. God, it felt good to have her touch him like this, no matter what the reason.
"Tucker? Did you really think we'd end up like them? That we'd hate each other just as much? That we'd make Sammy as miserable as you must have been?"
"Maybe."
He wished she'd just drop it. He wished she hadn't seen what she had seen. He wished she'd just hold on to him for a while and let him believe that in the end, she was going to be his again.
"Is that why, Tucker? I need to know."
He searched for the right words. He tried to remember that crazy, mixed-up time in their lives. And he had to be honest with her. He'd made a promise to himself and would make one to her when she was ready to hear it. He was going to be absolutely honest with her.
"When it came right down to it, Rebecca, I just couldn't take that risk."
She held him, still, and he breathed a little easier now that he'd told her. Maybe she would understand someday. Maybe she could forgive him. And then they could start over.
"Do you believe me?"
She was a long time answering, and he wished he hadn't pushed the issue.
"It's just that— It's so hard for me to imagine you being afraid of anything. I thought I was the only one who was scared."
"Oh, Rebecca." He turned around and held her lightly, at arm's length so he could look down at her beautiful face. "You scared me to death. You always have."
He couldn't have surprised her more. It was evident from the look on her face.
"I couldn't get you out of my mind. I couldn't have you. I couldn't stay away from you. I knew you were so young, so inexperienced, and I knew that it would have to be marriage or nothing with you."
She lowered her head, and her lashes fanned down over her green eyes, shielding them from his gaze.
He held her as he continued. "I didn't want to get married because I knew how it could end up, and I didn't want to take that risk. But in the end, I couldn't walk away, either."
"And now?" she said, without looking at him.
Tucker smiled and tilted her chin up. "I can't live the rest of my life without you. Sometimes I don't think I can make it another day."
She looked frightened by that—not the reaction he'd been hoping for.
He held her, anyway. He wished, for a moment, that he'd never promised they'd take things slowly, that he could haul her into his arms, carry her to his bed and make love to her until dawn.
They'd always tried to overcome their anger and their fears with their passion. It had worked, but not for long.
It wouldn't work now. He knew that.
So he just held her and waited. He would wait for the day when she wasn't afraid anymore, for the day when she decided that she could trust him, even a little.
The day would come. He believed that. He had to believe it.
* * *
Soon after, Tucker's father and Sammy came back with half-warm pizza. They ate a little, and then Tucker's father left.
Rebecca and Sammy were getting ready to leave, too, when she heard Tucker's stomach growl, and she laughed. It hadn't been the greatest dinner in the world, and they hadn't eaten much of it.
She took pity on him, here in this empty apartment with the empty kitchen, and invited him back to the house for whatever they could find in her freezer. But they hit a delay before they could get to her kitchen. They arrived at her house and found a little boy on the front porch.
The infamous Jimmy Horton, trouble incarnate, was huddled in a dark corner of the porch, looking angry and defiant, all at the same time.
Chapter 13
Jimmy Horton wouldn't tell them anything, except that he'd been on their porch for a while and his mother didn't know where he was.
Rebecca tried to call his mother, but the line was busy. She tried to get something out of Jimmy, but had to give up. She gave Sammy and Jimmy some h
omemade chocolate caramel brownies and milk, then sent the boys upstairs so she could try Mrs. Horton again. Ten minutes later, she finally managed to get through to the boy's frantic mother, who'd been on the phone calling everyone she knew, trying to locate Jimmy.
Rebecca reassured the woman that her son was safe, though clearly upset about something. And then Rebecca found out why.
"What is it?" Tucker asked. He was beside her in an instant.
"Damn!" she said softly as she hung up the phone. "We're in trouble."
"What?"
"Jimmy Horton's dad moved out again, for good this time, his mother says."
Tucker cursed, more pungently than she had.
"Sammy's not going to take this well."
"No," Tucker said. "And there's no telling what kind of crap that kid's telling him now."
Their eyes met and held. Jimmy Horton was right up there with God as far as Sammy was concerned. They both knew that. Sammy believed every word the kid said.
"Come on," Tucker said. "We've got to get him away from Sammy."
They headed for the stairs, but knew they were too late when they walked into Sammy's bedroom.
Both boys turned tear-filled eyes on Tucker. Jimmy Horton glared defiantly at him. Sammy, with his lower lip trembling and tear tracks on his face, looked like he'd lost his best friend in the world.
"He will," Jimmy Horton said, glaring at Tucker.
"He won't," Sammy said, though he didn't sound nearly as certain.
"Will, too." Jimmy retorted.
Tucker felt sorry for the poor, mixed-up kid, but still could have strangled him right then and there.
"I will what?" he said, bracing himself for the answer.
Jimmy Horton faltered for a moment and looked as if he might start crying again, but he didn't. He just got mad all over again.
"You'll leave, too," Jimmy insisted. "Just like my dad."
Tucker watched Sammy's face the whole time. He was confused and vulnerable. Their whole relationship was so frail at this stage.
Tucker knew that Sammy liked him, enjoyed spending time with him, but his son just didn't know him that well yet. The bond between them was still so fragile. The trust hadn't had the time it needed to take root.
So Tucker wasn't that surprised when he looked into his son's eyes and saw nothing but doubts and fears.
He sighed heavily, wishing he could curse some more. He was ready to pay for his own sins, but he didn't need to carry the burden for Jimmy Horton's dad, as well.
Rebecca slipped her hand into his and gave him a reassuring squeeze that steadied him a little. Tucker held on tight, but didn't turn around to look at her. He didn't want to see the doubts in her eyes, too. Her trust in him was tenuous, at best, too.
"I'm not going anywhere," he told Sammy. But the boy just stared at the floor.
Tucker felt as if everything he'd worked for in the past four months was slipping away—at least he did until Rebecca squeezed his hand again.
God, he wanted this woman back. He wanted his son. He wanted them to be a family.
Rebecca slipped an arm around his waist from behind, and her touch settled him.
"Come on, Jimmy," she said. "Your mother's worried about you, and she's coming to get you."
Jimmy shot her a defiant look, but got to his feet. The boy's eyes were red from crying, and he was so angry he was shaking.
So this is what it looked like when a father left his son, Tucker thought.
He wasn't ever going to leave his son again. Now, if he could only find the words to make Sammy believe it.
Tucker stood in the doorway and waited after Rebecca and Jimmy left the room. Sammy didn't say a word. He just sat on the floor beside his bed and looked out the window, and every now and then he sniffled.
Tucker dreaded this conversation he was about to have. He was fighting for his life here, because he knew now that life wasn't worth a hill of beans to him without Sammy and Rebecca. And he didn't know what to say.
"Sammy?"
Nothing. No response from the child sitting on the floor.
Tucker got down on the floor with Sammy, right in front of him.
Still nothing.
Tucker cleared his throat and searched for a beginning.
"It's too bad about Jimmy's dad," he said finally.
Sammy gave a barely discernible nod.
They were making progress.
"What did he tell you, Sammy?"
Sammy backhanded his nose and sniffled again. "His dad left again."
"Yes." Tucker eased closer, aching to take his son in his arms.
"And Jimmy said he's not coming back, not ever."
"Sammy?" Tucker scooted over so his back was against the bed and he was right beside his son. "You're not Jimmy Horton, and I'm not his dad. Just because Jimmy's dad left, doesn't mean that—"
"He said you'd go, too." Sammy said, sobbing. "Jimmy knows, 'cause that's what happened to him, 'n' now it's gonna happen to me."
"No, it's not." Tucker couldn't stand it anymore. He hauled Sammy onto his lap and pulled him close. "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy. I swear it."
Sammy sobbed pitifully, like a little, lost puppy. He shook and shivered with each gasp for breath and buried his head against Tucker's shoulder.
* * *
They stayed that way for a long time.
"I'm not going away," he whispered over and over again, as he rocked back and forth and smoothed down Sammy's hair.
Tucker wasn't going to give up, and he wasn't going to go away, not ever again. He was going to be here for his son, and he was going to teach his wife to trust him again, to love him again, or he'd die trying.
Tucker held his son a little tighter, until Sammy's sobs subsided and his skinny little arms came around Tucker's middle.
Sammy snuggled against his chest and settled down.
"I don't wantcha to go," he muttered into Tucker's shirt, and the big lump in his throat that had been threatening to choke him all night finally started to shrink a little.
"Good," Tucker said and kissed Sammy's head. "Because I'm not."
Sammy leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, then wiped his hands on his shirt before settling in against Tucker's chest again. "I missed ya, before, when you were gone, all the time," he admitted.
"I missed you, too, Sammy."
"Do ya think... "
"What?"
Sammy considered for a minute, choosing his words carefully. "That me and you and Mom'll ever be all together again, like when I was a little baby?"
Tucker froze.
At the doorway to Sammy's bedroom, Rebecca clamped a hand over her mouth, but not soon enough to stop the indrawn breath that alerted Tucker to her presence.
His eyes met hers in a shared moment of anguish. Everything they'd done in the past, every mistake they'd made, all the regrets they had, seemed to come together in this one, heart-wrenching moment.
Tucker looked to Rebecca to guide him, to answer Sammy's question, to answer all the questions he hadn't yet asked her, because he didn't think she was ready to hear them.
But Sammy had asked them for him.
Tell me there's really a chance for us, he said without words. Tell me we can we put it back together again.
A frightened Rebecca shook her head no, and her tears started to fall.
Yes. He mouthed the word over Sammy's head and then waited, daring her to contradict him.
She dared. Slowly, sadly, she shook her head no.
It made him more determined than ever.
She was scared.
Sammy was scared.
Hell, he was scared, too, but that didn't bother him anymore, because he finally felt alive again.
Feeling alive and scared beat the hell out of feeling alone and empty any day.
So he wasn't going anywhere.
"Yes," he whispered, too softly for even Sammy to hear. But Rebecca knew what he said. She read the word on his lips again.
Rebecca
wrapped her arms around her middle and blinked hard. She was still so afraid.
"Will we, Daddy?" Sammy said.
Tucker squeezed Sammy to him. He closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth that flooded through him every time he heard the word "Daddy" on his son's lips.
"Sammy, even if we all never live together, we'll still be here for you. You'll always have your mother, and you'll always have me. And we'll always love you, all right?"
"Uh-huh, but do you think we'll ever all live together again?"
Tucker listened to his heart. He refused to make a promise that he couldn't keep, but he could tell Sammy what was in his heart.
"I hope so, Sammy. More than anything else in the world, I hope so."
Sammy smiled for the first time since Jimmy Horton had shown up.
When Tucker looked up at the doorway again, Rebecca was gone.
* * *
Sammy finally settled down, and Tucker went to find Rebecca.
She was on the back deck, in the dark, save for the starlight above. And she was near the breaking point, though still trying to muster her defenses against him.
He could tell that by the way she held herself, arms wrapped around her middle and shoulders hunched up and inward, as if that could hold all her feelings inside. He could tell by the way she took two steps backward for every one step forward that he took. No big surprise there. They'd been doing that ever since he returned.
But he kept moving forward because, before too long, she was going to run out of room to back away any farther.
Tucker waited there beside her, staring up into the heavens. If he'd been a religious man, he'd have been praying for all he was worth right now.
"What did you tell him?" she said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them.
"That I loved him. That you loved him. That we always would."
"Good. That was good."
She didn't look at him when she spoke. She looked at the stars.
"Sammy said..." Tucker's voice broke and he tried to cover by clearing his throat. "He told me that he loved me, too."
"He does, and that's what matters. Not you and me or—"
"We matter, Rebecca. It means a hell of a lot to me, and I think it means just as much to you."
