by Amy Knupp
While the eggs and cheese finished cooking, he took the meat out of the microwave and got himself a clean plate. “Want some food?” he asked.
She didn’t even look at him or his culinary concoction before shaking her head. “They’re supposed to test for gestational diabetes and who knows what else. I have to fast for the test.”
He busied himself piling eggs on his plate. The silence between them seemed to swell, and for once, Scott was uncomfortable with it.
“Have you talked to your mom since you’ve been here?” he blurted out as he shook salt and then pepper over his plate.
Gemma met his gaze. “Why would I?”
The bigger question was why did he care? But he kind of did, at least enough to be curious.
“Just wondered. My dad never tried to contact me after I left home.”
“Seems to be his way.” Gemma shook her head. “Not that I wanted him to. I have no respect for him.”
They could start a club, he thought as he dug into his breakfast. “What’s the story with your mom?”
A shield came over her face as he watched her. It was a subtle thing, an instant, a barely discernible tightening of her features, and maybe someone who didn’t specialize in the gesture themselves wouldn’t have noticed. It was so familiar to him that he wondered if blocking someone out like that was a genetic trait they’d gotten from their father.
“No story. She’s just…” Gemma shook her head as if she couldn’t find words. “Self-centered. Like a two-year-old.”
He waited for her to explain more, but it became clear he’d be finished with breakfast, and maybe even lunch, before that happened.
“Why’d she kick you out?” he finally asked, slightly annoyed that for once he was being forced to play the question game to get someone else to talk.
Gemma closed her magazine and smiled, but there was nothing warm about the expression. She folded her hands on the counter in front of her. “I’m a serious disappointment to my mom.” She said it with fanfare, as if quoting directly.
Scott frowned. “Because you’re pregnant?”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “She’s preached to me all my life about looking out for myself first—a policy she has absolutely mastered—and not trusting guys. In her eyes I blew it.”
He put his fork down, crossed his arms and tilted his head. “By ending up pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that…exactly what she did?”
Gemma’s acknowledgment was in the form of raised brows. “Did I mention two-year-old?”
Scott resumed eating, beginning to get a view of what Gemma’s life must have been like. Not exactly rosy, he’d guess, even before Gemma had gotten pregnant. He felt a sort of kinship with her, out of nowhere. Something he couldn’t explain.
“Why are you asking about my mom?” Gemma looked suddenly panicked. “Are you going to call her?”
“I’m not calling anyone.” She was likely better off without her mother’s drama, the way it sounded. “How long ago did…your dad leave your mom?”
“They split up when I was thirteen. About a year after I found out about you and your mom.”
Without warning, the same rage he’d felt when his father had shown up at his apartment door hit him, making his chest feel tight and his appetite vanish. He fought it off, blocked out the thoughts of the past that had brought it on so suddenly.
“Who’s the father of your baby?” He shoved his plate away and gave her his full attention.
She shook her head, looking as if he’d punched her.
“It’s not like I’m going to know the guy,” Scott said, attempting a gentler tone.
“Then why does it matter?”
He scoffed. “You’re going to be a teenage mom. Last I knew it takes two to tango and I don’t think you should be the only one to pay.”
Ignoring him, she looked at her watch. She walked around the counter to the dishwasher, opened it and began putting away the clean dishes without a word.
Curiosity pulsed through him, but he begrudgingly accepted her need for privacy. God knew it was his life philosophy. He grabbed his half-eaten breakfast and went around to the stool next to hers to get out of her way.
They returned to their status quo silence—if you didn’t count the clattering of the dishes and silverware as she put them away. She left no question that he’d upset her and she wasn’t over it yet. Scott dragged her magazine over and opened it to a random page. Started reading about a Hollywood scandal he had zero interest in.
A few minutes later, he became aware that the noise had decreased. Gemma closed the silverware drawer and returned the utensil basket to the empty dishwasher, her back to him. He shoved the last sausage into his mouth and returned to the article to see how the story ended, curious in spite of himself.
“He’s in jail,” Gemma said quietly, still not facing him.
It took a couple of heartbeats for Scott to realize she’d gone back to their last topic—her baby’s father. “Juvie?”
She shook her head and lowered it. “He’s nineteen. Nothing very creative. He was caught selling drugs. In school.”
Whoa.
Gemma’s shoulders rose with a deep breath and she turned around without looking at him. Made her way back to her seat at his side. “I knew he was into some hard stuff but I didn’t know he dealt.”
Scott sized her up, trying to find a sign that she wasn’t being straight with him.
“I don’t do drugs,” she said in a rush, holding up her hands. “I have my faults but that isn’t one of them.”
He believed her. “So, does he know about the baby?”
She nodded. “Does he care? No.”
He didn’t say anything—what the hell was he supposed to say to that? He closed the magazine and shoved it back to her place. Watched her.
“I already feel stupid enough so no need to tell me. Even if he wasn’t in jail, I don’t want anything to do with him. Don’t want him to have anything to do with the baby. That’s part of the reason I needed to get out of town. I won’t ever take a dime from him. I wouldn’t trust where it came from.”
Yet she was determined to go it alone and have the baby.
Not for the first time, he realized this girl was no coward. Since he’d met her and found out she was pregnant, Scott had been of the silent opinion it’d be best for her to give the baby up for adoption. But now…he was beginning to see that, yes, she was taking the hardest route, but if anyone could handle it, it was her.
He scooped up the final bite of eggs with his fork and shoveled it in pensively.
Gemma stood, apparently done with the subject, and checked the time yet again.
“When is your appointment?”
“Eleven. I’ll leave in about ten minutes.” She began cleaning up the considerable mess he’d made preparing his breakfast. Loading dirty dishes and pans in the dishwasher.
He rose and carried his plate to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the open dishwasher. When he realized it was only twenty after ten, he frowned. “Why are you leaving so early for your appointment?”
She straightened after putting a pan in the back of the bottom rack. “It’s a little over a mile. Should take me twenty to twenty-five minutes to get there.”
“You’re walking?”
“Yep.”
“No, you’re not. I’m giving you a ride.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not too good at doing the things I ‘have’ to.”
She eyed the dirty counter where he’d dripped raw egg and spilled the package of cheese. “I noticed.”
“I’m giving you a ride to the clinic. And if you don’t make a big deal of it, I’ll wait with you and give you a ride home.”
Her slow grin made him fidget and he shook his head. “Don’t make it into something it isn’t. It’s no big thing.”
“I’m just ecstatic me and my extra tw
enty pounds don’t have to make that long waddle. I’m going to get ready now.”
The grin that played on her lips as she left the kitchen was genuine—and uncharacteristic.
He frowned at the realization that he was starting to like Gemma around the edges. That’d never been his plan. In fact, he’d intended to avoid getting to know her at all costs. He wasn’t going to keep up any long-distance ties when he left. Though most people thought he was an uncaring bastard, he in fact didn’t want Gemma to get hurt. It seemed she’d been through enough already.
One conversation wasn’t getting involved, he reminded himself. He was giving a pregnant girl a ride to a doctor’s appointment. That was all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SCOTT HAD JUST WOKEN UP from sleeping off his shift when he heard a knock on the door of his apartment late Friday afternoon. Still drowsy, he got up, pulled a T-shirt over his head and took his time getting to the door. He noticed Gemma wasn’t in her room as he passed it. He listened for her elsewhere in the apartment, but it seemed to be empty.
As he opened the front door, he was straining to remember whether she’d mentioned she was working today or not—not that it really mattered. She was an adult, or close enough.
He tensed and swore out loud at the sight of his father.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here again,” Scott said, all traces of warm sleepiness washed away by a surge of adrenaline.
“I told you I’d be back.”
“Gemma’s not here.”
“Then I’d like to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“There are some things I’d like to say to you,” he said.
Something about the statement set Scott’s temper soaring. “Yeah? Need to assuage your conscience?”
“Just a few minutes of your time. Please.” The old man’s eyes were weary and he looked haggard. Beaten down.
And that set Scott off. He opened the door wider, his pulse pounding, teeth clenched. Ability to think rationally gone. He stormed into the kitchen, knowing his sorry-ass dad would follow him.
Sure enough, the old guy came in behind him. Scott leaned against the counter by the stove, his back to the doorway and his dad. He wasn’t sure he could stomach looking at him.
“Son, I’m sorry—”
Scott pounded his fist on the counter and whipped around. “Don’t call me that!” He was loud enough they could probably hear him on the mainland, but he didn’t care. “You lost that right when you destroyed our family. You didn’t just abandon us or let us down. You basically spit on our family.” Scott stepped closer, taking a moment to breathe and then to laugh bitterly. “I used to think you were such a good father. I actually looked up to you. Didn’t like that you had to be on the road so much for your job, but I respected your work ethic and your dedication to providing for your family. Every Friday during football season, I’d spot you in the stands, and I’d think how cool it was that you were always there for me.”
“I was—”
“Don’t interrupt me. I’m on a goddamn roll. All the things I admired about you were a lie. You weren’t dedicated to earning a living, you were shacking up with your girlfriend and daughter. And two days after every football game, you got in your car and drove off to see them again.”
“Are you done yet?” his dad managed to say when Scott took another breath.
“Not even close!” Scott took another step forward. “The first eighteen years of my life, I thought I was pretty lucky. I had a decent family. A dad who loved me. I couldn’t have been more wrong, could I? Did you lie awake with your…girlfriend…chuckling over how clueless Mom and I were? Did you ever once stop to think about what you were doing? About the absolute fraud you are?”
“Every day of my life.”
The quiet words stopped Scott for a second. Only a second.
“Maybe I’d believe that if you’d shown an instant of remorse in the past ten years. Ten years. You tried to tell us how much we meant to you and yet you’ve never tried to make amends in ten goddamn years!”
His dad stared him down, and Scott noticed the sagging skin under the man’s eyes. The creases in his skin that deepened with his frown. “Can I talk now?”
In response, Scott narrowed his eyes and realized that he had nothing else to get out. For now. He crossed his arms and backed up against the counter. Waiting.
His dad’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath as Scott’s heart hammered on. “I’m sorry, Scott.”
Scott’s instinct was to throw that back in his dad’s face, but he’d run out of steam.
“I’m going to tell you some things about what happened years ago. It won’t make anything okay. It won’t make you feel any better. But you should know how it happened.”
Scott scoffed but gestured for his dad to continue.
“Your mother and I were going through a rough patch—and no, that doesn’t make any of this any more acceptable. Just a fact. I met Lisa at a restaurant where she was a waitress during one of my many trips to Fort Worth. We didn’t immediately get involved, but she was friendly. Younger than I was and paid attention to me. She listened to me.”
A nasty taste filled Scott’s mouth.
“I eventually made the mistake of taking her home.”
“I don’t need details,” Scott ground out.
“That I was unfaithful ate away at me, but I couldn’t seem to stay away from this younger, pretty woman who seemed crazy about me. After a few weeks, I worked up the resolve to end it. That night, she told me she was expecting our baby.”
“So that made it okay not to end it?”
“Of course not.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. And it tore me up inside slowly with every single week that passed. But I no longer knew how to get out of it.”
“You’re wasting your breath,” Scott said. “Nothing you say is going to make me forgive you.”
His father swallowed, looking pale. He nodded. “I understand that. My point is that I never ever set out to hurt anyone. I made big mistakes and they spiraled out of control. Snowballed.”
Scott shook his head. There was nothing else he could say. Nothing anybody could say to make everything okay.
“I’m sorry I never came after you to apologize or try to make peace.”
“It wouldn’t have worked if you had.”
“But I should have tried.”
“Yeah. If you ever gave half a damn, I’d think you would have tried.”
“It’s taken me fifty-five years to own up to how weak I am.” He paused, his mouth open. “I’m a coward. A hundred times over.” His voice cracked with the last word. “That’s not something I recommend figuring out about yourself.”
“I have no plans to,” Scott said, disgusted.
“No. You have nothing to fear. You’re not like me.”
“Got that right.”
“I’ve always admired your strength. Your conviction.”
“I don’t know about that, but if so, maybe you should have done more than admire it.”
“I’m…trying.” His father leaned on the counter with his elbows. “I’ve made some changes in my life over the past few months. I have a long way to go.”
Scott didn’t care what he’d done the past few months or the past ten years. “You’ve had your say. It’s time for you to go.”
“I have one more thing to cover.”
Scott inhaled deeply in an attempt to summon his patience. “Get it over with.”
“As I’ve said, I’ve made a lot of changes. I’ve decided I need to be happy on my own, without a relationship, for the first time since I was in junior high school. I’ve been going to a therapist, figuring out what’s important to me.”
“Congrats.”
“I’d like to help Gemma somehow. Financially, physically, whatever she needs.”
Scott bit back a sardonic laugh. “Good luck with that. She doesn’t seem
to like you any more than I do.”
“I realize that. But I’d like the chance to change that.”
“That’s between you and her.”
“Maybe you could nudge her into considering it. She’s welcome to move into my home. I bought a three-bedroom house in a nice neighborhood with good schools. I’d help her with her baby.”
“That’s rich.”
“She needs help. She’s only seventeen.”
“I know that and you know that but she doesn’t seem to think so.”
“Try to convince her.”
“I have no influence over her. If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t steer her toward you.”
His father exhaled in frustration, nodded with his lips pursed. “I’ll go now. No use talking to a brick wall.”
“I could’ve told you that fifteen minutes ago and saved you a whole lot of trouble.”
“I’ve apologized. If there’s something else I can do, let me know.” With that, his dad walked out the door.
Scott pushed the door closed after him with more force than necessary. His opinion of his dad hadn’t changed, but he suspected raging at the man had at least helped his spleen. If he was lucky, the old man had assuaged his guilty need to make up and he’d be back out of his life, this time for good.
* * *
SERRANO’S NICKER FROM behind him was Scott’s first clue that he and the horse weren’t alone.
Though his spot on the bluff made him feel like the only person in the world, he supposed it was close enough to the stables to be frequented, at least on horseback. Definitely a spot he’d want to return to, now that he’d discovered it.
The natural overlook wasn’t more than a couple hundred feet high, but this close to the sea it felt like a mountain. He imagined the turquoise water just beyond his visibility as he sat facing east on the dry, grassy ground, his knees bent and arms resting on them.
He wasn’t up for company, not even a polite hello. His dad’s visit had kept him restless and agitated for most of the night. When he’d gotten out of bed with the sun this morning, tired of tossing and turning, he’d needed to quiet his mind. The best way to do that was out here in the middle of nowhere. Alone.
He kept his back to the interloper to make his point.
