by Pamela Tracy
Truth was, she didn’t mind how close he was at all. He was warm and smelled of soap. The bottom of his chin brushed the top of her head. If he were anybody else, she’d think he was invading her space on purpose.
“We’ll probably go out for lunch after services, so I’m thinking we’ll be gone about three or four hours. Okay?”
“You’ll need his bag.” Natalie quickly returned to the house, grabbed Robby’s diaper bag and hurried back to Lucky. “If he says potty, take him right then. We’re getting it right about ninety percent of the time.”
She almost wished Lucky’s cell phone was within grasp. She needed a camera because the look on Lucky’s face was priceless.
“Mary will know what to do,” Natalie assured him, holding out the bag and almost enjoying his unease because it was so comical. “There’s a diaper just in case, but I doubt you’ll need it.”
Lucky looked skeptically at the bag and didn’t make a move to take it.
“Trust me, you need it.”
Finally, Lucky took the bag. He placed it in the front seat.
“We go!” Robby urged.
“We go,” Lucky agreed, slipping into his truck and into three-year-old lingo easily. He paused, then turned around to check out his backseat. Clearly having second thoughts, he said to Natalie, “You want to come with us?”
“To church?”
“That’s where we’re going.”
“We go, Mommy!”
No, she didn’t want to go to church. She didn’t want to sit still for an hour, didn’t want to answer the questions as to why she was suddenly attending and who she was attending with, and most of all, she didn’t want to hear a sermon about sorting out right from wrong.
Because right now, Natalie was doing wrong. This preacher man deserved to know the truth: that Robby was Marcus’s son but not Natalie’s. The urge to tell him almost made her dizzy. It was the right thing to do. It was the scariest thing in the world to contemplate doing. She caught the handle of his truck in a firm grip. No way did she want to have to explain to Lucky exactly why she was feeling faint.
“Natalie!”
She looked up at him, blinked and opened her mouth. Words didn’t come.
“You either need to let go of the door handle or, even better, jump in and come to church with us.”
“Yes, Mommy, come church.”
“No, I can’t go to church.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Lucky asked.
“Both work.” She stepped away from the truck, surprised by how much she wanted to go with them. If only she’d borne Robby, if only…
Lucky started the truck, the wheels turned and he slowly drove away. He waved, and in the backseat, Robby tried to turn. The safety harness only allowed so much movement. Still, his little head bobbed up and down as he tried to see her while trying to wave, too.
Her knees almost buckled. Her little man was going off without her. Taking a deep breath, she regained her composure and looked back at the house. For a month, she’d been daunted by how empty it was without her dad. Empty didn’t begin to describe how it would feel without Robby.
She took one step, two, back toward the porch. Actually, this was good. She and her dad had always agreed that Robby shouldn’t be coddled, and since her dad’s death, Robby had been nothing but coddled. At church, he’d be with Rachel, who at the moment was his favorite person, and he’d see Patty and her kids. Realistically, this was a good separation.
Good for Robby.
Not so good for her.
Glancing back, she watched as Lucky’s truck got smaller and smaller. So this was what “shared custody” felt like, like a best friend moving away, promising to write, but it’s never the same.
When the truck finally disappeared from sight, Natalie opened the front door and went in. Evidence of Robby was everywhere, more so now than when her father was alive. Back then, she’d tried to keep things picked up. Now, the toys lay at the ready, and in some ways it was a maze to get through the living room and to the kitchen.
With hours to kill, she started cleaning the living room, worked her way to the kitchen and did both bathrooms, then her and Robby’s bedrooms. The guest room simply needed airing out.
The door to her father’s room had been closed for almost a month. It needed more than an airing out; it needed emptying out. Walt had offered to help more than once. Standing in the hallway, in front of the room that had belonged to her father, Natalie figured the room felt and looked much like she did, lonely and dusty.
She checked her watch. Church should be ending right now. Lucky planned to take everyone out to lunch. She’d love to be a fly on the wall for that venture. If he blanched at the diaper detail, he’d also be bewildered when Robby refused to eat, crawled under the table and wanted to run around greeting the other diners.
Pop Pop called Robby a future Wal-Mart greeter.
She had more than an hour. The knob turned in her hand and the door pushed open, almost without her consent. Lately, she seemed to be doing more things she didn’t want to do than things she wanted to do.
She needed to change that.
Her father’s scent of Old Spice and down-home comfort lingered in the room. She missed him. Oh, how she missed him. She’d never felt like a single mother with him by her side. She’d felt like a family. And three seemed such a great number. It had been she, her mom and dad, three. Then, it had been she, Robby and Dad, three. Now it was Robby and she, two.
Three was a much better number.
She stepped into the room, thinking she’d wash the bedsheets and then grab some garbage bags and start packing her father’s clothes.
The phone saved her.
In the quiet of a house that had not three, not two, but one lonely individual, the phone was loud, distant and welcome.
She hurried downstairs and picked it up.
It was Lucky. “Robby’s crying, and we can’t get him to stop.”
“Did he fall?”
“No,” Lucky said slowly, “I went to pick him up from Bible hour, and when I peeked in, he was just fine. He was sitting by Rachel and holding up his finger and singing ‘This Little Light of Mine.’ Rachel spotted Mary and ran right to her. Robby just looked at us, and when I told him to come on, his bottom lip quivered, and he started sobbing.”
“Put him on the phone,” Natalie ordered.
“Mommy. You no here.”
Natalie knew just the expression Robby wore on his little face. He had eyes pooling with tears. He had a bottom lip that not only quivered but also stuck out. And he wasn’t exactly crying, more like keening.
“Robby, what’s wrong?”
“Mommmmmmy.”
“Mommy’s at home. You’ll be home soon.”
“Mommy home?”
Lucky took the phone then. Natalie had to give him credit for parental instinct. A phone call with Robby could take an hour and consist of mainly two-to-four-word fragmented sentences. Lucky, obviously, was too hungry to wait an hour. “Should I bring him home?”
“You can.”
“Better still, why don’t you drive over and meet us for lunch? We’re going to The SteakHouse.” She heard muffled sounds, and then she barely made out Lucky saying to Robby, “Mommy is coming to the restaurant.”
“Eat!” Robby replied. No more keening, no more quivering bottom lip. “We go eat. Mommy eat.”
She had no problem hearing Robby.
And she had no problem figuring out that the opportunity to say “yes” or “no” to the restaurant was gone. Robby missed her; Robby expected her at the restaurant. She’d meet them at the restaurant.
Part of her wondered if Lucky knew he’d worked it so she had no opportunity to decline the luncheon invitation.
Lucky came back to the phone. “It will take us about twenty minutes to get to the restaurant.”
“Since it’s Sunday,” Natalie said, “you’ll have about a thirty-minute wait. I’d call ahead, get your name on the list and then dri
ve around a bit. Robby’s a handful in a crowded room with no toys and no place to roam.”
“Bernice already called, but I’ll take your advice about driving around.”
After she hung up the phone, Natalie looked down. She no longer felt lonely, but she still looked dusty. When Robby was a baby, she’d mastered the eight-minute shower. It served her well this morning. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as an eight-minute blow-dry. She took the full ten minutes needed, wanting to look nice, and worried that she was trying to impress the big cowboy more than the little cowboy.
Remembering what Lucky looked like, she chose an outfit she didn’t get to wear often enough. Hmm, come to think of it, the last time she’d worn the black, satiny pants and matching black-and-white-striped jacket had been for an evening out back when Robby had been four months old and her father arranged the blind date.
That said something—her father trying to play matchmaker. The date liked Natalie, but he was about fifteen years too old. She’d never been willing to settle, which might be the reason she hadn’t had a real date in three years.
Hurrying to the car, she checked her watch and figured she just might arrive in time for dessert.
But her hair would look great!
Natalie chuckled. Her father had bemoaned Natalie’s attention to her hair. Of course, back when he was teasingly complaining, she hadn’t mastered the eight-minute shower, and ten minutes would never do for a decent styling. For the first time in a long time, when she checked her image in the mirror, she felt like a woman more than a mother.
She could fool herself and say it was for Robby, but Natalie was no fool.
The day was taking a turn for the better, and maybe, just maybe, when she got back home she’d tackle her dad’s room with a better attitude. Surely after a lunch with her little man, Lucky and Bernice’s whole crew, loneliness would take a holiday.
In a way, the drive to The SteakHouse felt like a holiday. The weather was perfect, and Natalie was looking forward to being a part of something, something like a family. She turned on the radio and hummed along with a country station all the way to the restaurant.
The SteakHouse used to be a barn. It belonged to a family her father referred to as entrepreneurs. They had ten children and realized not all wanted to farm, thus the family restaurant.
It worked, Natalie remembered, as she pulled into the parking lot. Five of their ten children worked the land. Five worked the restaurant.
Natalie’s timing couldn’t be better. She walked into the restaurant just as Lucky and everyone were being seated.
“Mommmmmmy!”
As she stretched out her arms, Natalie overheard a diner say, “Kid sure is happy to see his mommy, but he looks just like his daddy.”
Natalie’s step faltered.
Every time she started thinking she could do this, share Robby, something reminded her that at heart she was, indeed, an only child, and she didn’t share well. Worse, the diner’s words, “Sure looks like his daddy,” reminded her that what she wasn’t sharing didn’t really belong to her in the first place.
Robby skidded to a stop and held up a piece of paper. “Look, Mommy. Look what I made.”
It was a white piece of paper with cotton balls and craft sticks glued to it.
“Um, that looks really nice,” Natalie said, guiding Robby to the table and helping him into the booster chair. Rachel was in a booster chair also, across from Robby, and she was holding on to a similar piece of paper.
Johnny, feeling the power of being the oldest, solemnly filled Natalie in. “We had a lesson in Bible hour about being sheep.”
Natalie looked at Robby and made a quizzical face. “I thought you wanted to be a horse.”
“No, sheep. Baa.”
Everyone laughed. The hostess showed up, passed menus around, and before Natalie had time to worry about Robby’s behavior, she found herself sitting between him and Lucky, who’d pulled out her chair. Robby was making a liar out of her by behaving like a little adult. He held the kids’ menu as if he were reading it. Rachel did likewise.
Lucky leaned over. “You’ve eaten here before?”
“Many times.”
“What’s good?”
“You’d better say everything,” the waitress walked up and said. She was still tying her apron. After she finished the knot, she retrieved a tablet from her pocket and said, “Is this all one check?”
Bernice said no; Lucky said yes.
It only took a wink from Lucky to encourage the waitress that one check was all that was necessary.
Natalie was impressed.
So impressed that she had a hard time keeping her eyes off him while he led the prayer. She noticed that he watched her, too, while she cut Robby’s hamburger into small pieces. Luckily, little Rachel then insisted that Natalie cut hers and no, Mommy wouldn’t do, it had to be Robby’s mother. Natalie not only cut the meat but also arranged it in a happy face. She then made sure Robby ate six bites of his hamburger, three fries, and drank his milk.
When the last dessert was cleared away and Robby finished his milk, Bernice’s husband stood. “We need to be getting home. There are still chores to do.”
Howie Jr. was the only one to groan. Mary’s husband, casting a worried look at Mary’s bulging stomach, pulled a sleeping Rachel from her chair. Robby put down the toy train Natalie had pulled from the diaper bag and scooted to the floor. Natalie retrieved the train, Robby’s sippy cup and two crayons from the table before taking Robby by the hand.
“Need help?” Lucky offered.
“No, I’m going to get him home and put him down for a nap. I have some work to do.”
“Need some help with the all that work? Or better yet, how about if I come along and distract Robby after he wakes up?”
Natalie opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Her cell rang, saving her from making a decision.
Lucky tucked Robby under his arm, snagged the backpack from Natalie’s hand and mouthed, I’ll wait for you outside.
It was nice to have help.
Natalie flipped open her phone and listened to Sunni’s normally calm voice rise a few octaves.
“Slow down,” Natalie advised.
Over the line, she heard Sunni take a breath. Then, the lawyer said, “Natalie, the private detective just called. He started with Tisha’s last known address and has been working his way backward.”
“Has he found Tisha?”
“No, but he found someone else.”
Lately, Natalie had gotten use to imagining worst-case scenarios. “Another baby?”
“No, he found another private detective.”
Chapter Nine
M onday morning when the alarm clock rang, Natalie rolled out of bed with purpose. She’d tossed and turned all night, and in the gloom of midnight had made a decision. The private detective she and Sunni hired had not located Tisha. The private detective her father had hired had not found Tisha.
At least now they knew where her father’s missing money had gone and why he’d put his business at risk. His private detective charged sixty dollars an hour plus expenses. Natalie’s father had paid for airfare, hotel bills, gas…the list went on. It added up quickly.
And still no Tisha.
Her dad’s private detective did know why he’d been hired. When Natalie’s dad heard that Marcus had died and how much money Marcus had, he’d worried that Tisha might come around. He, like Natalie, intended to do everything in his power to keep Robby with them.
Her father’s main goal, like Natalie’s, had been guardianship papers.
Both Sunni and Natalie agreed. The private detective needed to keep looking for Tisha. Until all parties came to an agreement, Robby’s future was at stake.
The minute Tisha was located, Natalie was telling both Robby and Lucky the truth.
It was the responsible thing, the right thing.
She tugged on gray sweats and a pink T-shirt. Then she checked on Robby, grabb
ed a glass of milk, snagged a handful of cookies and headed for her office. The world as she and Robby knew it was about to change, and it was important for both of them to keep some things the same.
Like routines. Their routines had been disrupted when Pop Pop died. Then, their routines had been completely destroyed when Natalie challenged fate and lost. If she were honest with herself, she’d known Lucky was a good guy, which was why she’d approached him for money. But she’d never expected Lucky to turn out to not only be a good guy with a good family but also a good guy who wanted to be part of their lives.
Natalie booted up her computer and opened her calendar. So far the e-mail about her father’s death had garnered lots of sympathy from her clients. All claimed to understand if she was a bit slow with updates, but a month had passed, and even the most patient of clients had to be having second thoughts. She’d been slowly getting back into routine; today was the day routine returned for good.
First, she sent out a blanket e-mail letting her clients know that she was back in the saddle and to please send new updates. She also attached a sample trailer, a cost breakdown, and offered her clients what she called “a new opportunity.” She’d managed to catch up on just two clients when—
“Morning, Mommy!” Robby stood in the bedroom door, grinning. Clutched in his left hand was a pair of fresh, clean pajamas he’d gotten from his dresser drawer.
“Good morning, my favorite little man. I am so glad you’re awake. You wet?”
“Uh-huh.”
Ten minutes later, Robby sat at the table in jeans and a sweater, eating a waffle, or pretending to eat a waffle—one bite didn’t really count as eating—and looking out the window.
Natalie looked out the window, too. Robby, she knew, was hoping for a cowboy. Natalie was hoping for a miracle.
Too bad she didn’t believe in miracles.
“Mommy? What we do today?”
“I thought we’d go back to playgroup.”
Robby’s eyes lit up. “Playgroup? Yeaaaahh!”
The playgroup they belonged to met at the community center. Natalie had missed so many sessions she no longer had a current monthly calendar. After cleaning up the breakfast dishes and bundling Robby into a coat, they left the house. Robby insisted on walking by himself, climbing into the car seat by himself, and even trying to buckle.
