"Here, tiger, take this in to mama while I get your sister, okay?"
"'Kay."
Tyler toddled across the patio, happily chattering to himself. Watching, Mitch felt pain squeeze his heart.
"Hang in there, buddy. I've never known you to quit yet," Dante said feelingly.
Glancing up, Mitch met Dante's compassionate eyes squarely. "There's always a first time." Careful not to wake Francey, he lifted her into her father's waiting arm.
"Shove that soda can in my pocket, will you?" Dante asked. "Hazel recycles everything."
Mitch did as he was asked before reaching down for his crutches. "How about ex-football players?" he asked, using the arm of the sturdy chair as support while he levered himself to his feet. "Think she can recycle me into something someone would want?"
Dante didn't smile. "I think that's something you're going to have to do for yourself."
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Carly cried at Tracy's graduation. Everyone assumed it was because her one and only fledgling was leaving the nest. Everyone knew how close they were, how fiercely she had protected her child from the moment of her birth. And that was part of it. But as she sat in the hard chair on the floor of the high school gym, she was also crying for the things her little girl had never had—like the joy of seeing her father's eyes light up with happiness the first time her tiny hand grasped his. Or the quiet security of knowing that she was loved by two parents who also loved one another.
Carly knew now that would never be, no matter how much she might want it to be. She had accepted that. She had made peace with it. She had.
If only Mitch hadn't sent the corsages. Three. One for each of the Alderson ladies. Only Tracy's had been signed with love.
* * *
"…and the requests for season tickets are running ahead of even my most optimistic projection." Marca tossed the report onto Carly's desk and sat back with a pleased sigh. "Lord, I'm good."
Carly broke off another square of chocolate from the half-finished bar and popped it into her mouth. "Don't break an arm patting yourself on the back just yet, Kenworthy. We're still a long way from solvent."
It was almost the end of July, and Alderson Hall was all but empty. Most of the department heads were on vacation, leaving the most junior members of the faculty to teach the abbreviated summer session. Tonight, as was her long-standing custom, Carly was hosting a reception for the incoming freshmen to personally welcome them to a week-long orientation period. Tomorrow she had meetings scheduled with the various department heads, and then, tomorrow night, she was leaving on a month-long alumni junket to Europe.
The trip she'd anticipated so eagerly a year ago was now a duty. Her bags were packed, her tickets confirmed and reconfirmed for the chartered flight she was to meet in Portland, her desk nearly clear. She would be returning a scant two weeks before classes began.
"Why do I keep thinking I shouldn't go on this trip?" She flicked a quick glance toward the window. It was raining again.
"Ever hear of a Superwoman Complex? Whoever came up with that one had to have you in mind."
"Don't be nasty, Marca. I know I can't do it all. I don't even try."
"That's true. You let Joe McNabb fix broken light sockets and cranky elevators, and so far you haven't subbed for Dr. Hong in Advanced Mandarin, although you've taught in just about every other department."
"I know my limitations."
"Uh-huh. What about last January, when it snowed so much none of the maintenance workers could get to campus, so you ran the snow blower? And then there was the time the flagpole rope got snarled and—"
"Enough!" Carly held up both hands, laughing in spite of herself. "I get the point. Maybe I'll admit I have a minor compulsion to handle the important things myself, but I don't have a problem delegating responsibility to people I know I can really trust. Like you."
"And, of course, you never check up on me or anyone else to make sure things are being handled properly, right?"
"Only in the course of my own responsibilities." Carly glanced sideways at the lengthy list of To Do on her daily planner, the one organized in five-minute blocks. "For instance, if I had any doubts at all, I'd ask you very discreetly if you've remembered to put the date and time of cheerleading tryouts on your calendar."
Marca sighed dramatically. "Don't worry, I'll be there, ready to offer a sympathetic shoulder if Tracy doesn't make the squad."
"I know you will. And I know I really didn't have to remind you. It's just that this is the first time I've left her for more than a few weeks at a stretch. And I guess I'm going through separation anxiety."
"She's a high school graduate now, and a duly enrolled college freshman. And in four months she'll be eighteen. In other words, she's a big girl. She'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."
"I'm a survivor, you know that. I just hope Bradenton is." She sighed, then furrowed her brow. "How many tickets aren't sold yet?"
"I'm not going to tell you, because you'll only brood about it on the plane."
Carly wanted to argue, but she knew Marca was right. "You're right. I apologize for being a wet blanket," she said, rubbing her aching head. Two weeks ago she hadn't known a headache could withstand every remedy known to medical science and some she'd invented out of desperation. But this one had.
"I understand. You have your reasons." Marca helped herself to a double square of chocolate. "Have you heard from him?"
Carly glanced toward the black clouds outside. Appropriate, she thought with a ragged sigh. "Not a word. Not even a bread-and-butter letter thanking me for my hospitality."
"Under the circumstances, that might be just a little bit too much to expect, don't you think?"
"You mean because I lost my temper and spoke rashly and did all the things I've prided myself on not doing for so long? Or do you mean because he didn't even have the guts to say goodbye?"
Marca rubbed a finger over her nose. "Maybe he was bleeding too much," she said laconically.
"Thanks a lot, Marca."
"Hey, I'm here to serve!" Her smile flashed, but her eyes were troubled. "For the record, though, I think it's a good thing the history between you two is finally on the table. Keeping secrets can be a dangerous proposition, especially between two people who are sleeping together."
Carly opened a carefully marked folder and placed Marca's most recent progress report on top. A copy of Scanlon's contract was there, as well, along with a note he'd sent Sandy only a few days before, asking her to contact a real estate broker on his behalf.
"I keep telling myself he won't say anything to Tracy. That he has more integrity than that. More compassion."
"I agree."
Carly ran her fingertips over the folder. There was a buzzing in her head now, to add texture to the pain. "I understand that Coach has heard from him. Apparently he's due back on Saturday. He's a professional. He won't let his personal feelings interfere with his job."
Carly's eyes stung. She couldn't remember when she'd wanted to cry more than she did at this moment. But big girls didn't cry. Nor did college presidents.
"I hurt him, Marca. If I'd taken a knife and shoved it into his belly, I couldn't have hurt him more. He was feeling vulnerable, and instead of understanding, I pulled out all the old pain and humiliation and resentment and dumped it on him."
Marca drew a long, sad breath. "Oh, Carly, life can be a bitch, can't it?"
* * *
Thirty-one days later, Marca picked Carly up at the airport in Medford and they talked nonstop all the way back to the campus. Carly's first question was about Tracy and her giddy excitement at making the junior varsity squad.
"She's already got her uniform," Marca said with a grin. "I keep telling her she'll wear it out before the season starts if she doesn't stop trying it on three times a day."
Carly laughed. "I can't wait to see her. Has she changed?"
Marca shot her a quick look before returning her attention to the free
way ahead. "You've only been gone four weeks."
"Feels more like four years." Tired and already jet-lagged, Carly leaned back against the Bronco's high seat and closed her eyes. "How's Coach?"
"Impossible. The press loves him."
"And … Mitch?"
"He bought a small place in that new development across the river from me. Since it wasn't quite finished, he was able to have them customize it for his special needs. He moved in last week. Had some of the guys from the team helping." She hesitated, then added, "Tracy helped, too."
Carly sighed. "I know. She told me on the phone when I called two nights ago."
"It wasn't his idea," Marca hastened to explain. "I know, because I asked her in a roundabout way."
Carly nodded. "What about the team?"
"Improving every day. He's holding two practices a day, six days a week. Since today's Sunday, I can't drive you by the field to let you watch, but believe me, it's a sight to behold. All those muscular young bodies glistening with sweat. Wow!"
"Marca, behave yourself."
Marca grinned. "From what I've heard, Mitch runs a very tight program, all business. Seems he loaded them all into a bus the first day of practice and took them up to Portland."
"To see the Jacks practicing?"
"No, to a rehab center. Made them spend the whole day watching the patients going through all kinds of hell. According to Ian it made a big impact. Now, when someone starts to complain, one of the other guys just quietly tells him to shut up and get back to work." Her lips curved. "He's also got them on a strict regimen, no smoking, absolutely no drinking and an eleven o'clock weeknight curfew, which, I gather from the rumblings, is not all that popular at the moment."
Carly slitted her eyes and stated straight ahead. "I hate to admit it, but I spent the first part of my trip waiting to hear that he wasn't coming back from California."
Marca grinned, but sobered quickly. "This is just a guess, but I think he's put himself in a hell far worse than any you or I could ever have thought up for him as punishment."
Carly rubbed the spot just above her heart that had been aching since she'd left. The irony was inescapable. "Maybe he has company in that hell."
"Is that the way you want to leave things?"
Carly straightened and flexed her shoulders. "I had a lot of time to think on this trip, and I've come to the conclusion that I like my life the way it was just fine. I don't need Mitch Scanlon to make me happy or complete or more of a woman."
"Maybe you don't need him, but you love him, and I can't imagine how you can just slip back into your old workaholic life without missing him terribly every single minute."
"I can, and I will."
Marca shot her a quick look, then lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive. As soon as they reached the campus gates, Carly was suddenly wide awake and excited to be seeing her daughter again.
The campus looked as well kept as ever, with emerald vistas as far as the eye could see. In the bright sunshine, the buildings seemed more white than gray. The stadium was hidden behind a hill to her right, but she knew it was there. The first game was only three weeks away.
Her stomach knotted, and her throat hurt.
"Home sweet home," Marca murmured as she braked for the turn into the driveway. "How's it feel to be back?"
"I'll let you know tomorrow, after I've had a look at my desk."
Marca parked behind the MG and set the brake. "I'll help you with your bags, and then I have to split. I know what my desk looks like, and it ain't pretty."
Carly got out slowly, still stiff and achy from the long series of flights. "What time is it?" she asked, checking her watch. "The pilot told us right before we landed, but I just want to double-check."
"Four-oh-eight. What've you got, London time?"
"Don't ask."
Carly had traveled light, and between them, they managed the two suitcases and three huge shopping bags filled with treasures she hadn't been able to resist.
Tilly saw her first and hurried across the foyer for a hug. Carly set down her bundles and held out her arms. "Oh, Tilly, it's so good to see you!"
"Welcome home, Carly. We've all missed you."
"I've missed you, too. All of you."
Tilly stepped back and looked her up and down with all-knowing eyes. "You've lost weight, honey. Didn't they feed you over in those foreign countries?"
"Yes, but I ran it off."
"I'll just run these up for you," Marca said, moving past her to the stairs. "Go ahead in. I'll let myself out."
"Thanks for picking me up. I owe you one."
"Don't worry, I'll put it in the tally book. Right next to all the ones I owe you."
Tilly picked up the bundles and followed.
"I'll get those, Tilly. Don't bother."
"It's no bother. Besides, you'll be wantin' a private moment with Tracy and your mum. They're out on the terrace, having tea."
Carly straightened her tired shoulders and hurried through the house's air-conditioned rooms to the terrace. In her absence, maintenance had replaced the glass panels with the summer screens, and the scent of flowers mingled with the familiar tang of chlorine.
Her mother was sitting at the table with the blue-and-white umbrella tipped to put her into deep shade. While she sipped tea and paged through one of her expensive decorating magazines, Tracy was sunning herself by the pool. Her bright pink bikini was still damp, and she'd twisted her hair into a loose knot on the top of her head. Escaping tendrils curled in charming wisps around her face. She looked so beautiful that for a moment Carly could only stand and stare.
Sensing her gaze, Tracy glanced up, squealing with delight as soon as she saw who was standing there. "Mom!" In a blur of pink she was out of her chair and running toward Carly like an excited four-year-old.
A lump blocked Carly's throat as she gathered her daughter into her arms and hugged her tight. Her heart was racing, and she felt like crying, but she managed to keep it light as she held Tracy away from her to study her face.
"Yes, this is definitely my daughter the cheerleader."
Tracy beamed. "I kept thinking I'd get out there in front of all the judges and just freeze up."
"But you didn't, and I'm proud of you."
"Thanks." She shot a look over her shoulder, then grinned. "I'll go change into my outfit while you say hi to Grandmother, okay?"
"Very much okay." Tracy gave her mother a kiss on the cheek before heading inside at a very uncheerleaderlike lope.
"Welcome home, dear," Felicity said with what looked to Carly like genuine delight. "I hope you had a lovely time."
"Mostly it was hectic. I'm glad to be back."
"You looked tired, dear. Did you sleep on the plane?"
Carly shook her head. She hated to fly under any circumstances, but flying over water for hour after endless hour always made her tense. "Mostly I'm jet-lagged. I feel as though I could sleep for days."
Felicity looked dismayed. "I hope you're not too tired for the welcome-home dinner I've arranged. Now, don't get that mulish look, Caroline. It's very casual, just family. And Marca and Peter, of course. I invited Mitchell, as well. After all, he still seems like family, even if he's no longer under our roof. But he asked to be excused. Apparently he had made other plans for this evening."
Carly was too tired to feel more than a dull pain above her heart.
* * *
The last day of August set a high-temperature record. Outside the air-conditioned mansion, heat rose in shimmering waves, wilting the leaves of the trees and driving all but those with lizard blood inside.
Carly turned from the window to watch with mixed feelings as Tracy closed the box containing her books and other favorite things she intended to take across campus to her dorm room. The rest of her things were already in Felicity's sedan.
"Have you met your roommate yet?" she asked when Tracy straightened.
"Not yet. I hear she's from Tacoma."
Carly nodd
ed. "How about blankets? Are you sure you don't want to take one more just in case that old boiler goes out again?"
"I'll be fine. Besides, I can always hunt up one of the guys on the floor and cuddle in with him."
Carly took a careful breath. "Does that mean you're over your infatuation with Ian?"
Tracy's gaze slid from her mother's. "No, but I have kept my promise not to date him."
"I wasn't asking, sweetie. I trust you, you know that."
"I know." Tracy glanced around the room, then nodded. "Guess that does it." She drew a long breath, then hunched her shoulders. "I hate to leave, and yet I can't wait. Does that make sense?"
"Absolutely," Carly said with only a faint tremor in her voice. "That's exactly the way it should be."
Tracy nodded, her expression turning pensive. "I was kinda hoping you and Mitch might hit it off, you know? Maybe even end up together?"
Carly managed a grin. "You know how it is with people our age. We're too set in our ways."
"He always asks about you when I run into him at the field."
"Does he?" Carly tried to make her question casual. The sudden glint in Tracy's eyes told her that she'd failed.
"The whole time you were gone, he would ask me if I'd heard from you, if you were having a good time, stuff like that, and then when I'd tell him, he'd get this sad look on his face. I think he missed you."
Carly drew a breath. "You like him, don't you?"
Tracy nodded. "I think he's just about the bravest person I've ever met, next to you, of course." She ended with a grin, which Carly managed to return.
"Of course," Carly teased, before sobering. "I'm curious, sweetie. What made you think of Mitch as brave?"
Tracy shrugged one shoulder as though embarrassed now that she'd initiated this topic. "When we're done practicing, some of the other girls and I usually hang around a while and watch the guys. There was this one time when Mitch was trying to teach Ian something about timing, you know, like leading the receiver, and Ian just couldn't get it right, so Mitch handed one of the guys his right crutch and took the ball himself. But when he tried to throw it, he lost his balance and fell down, right in front of the team and a lot of other people who were just hanging around watching, like Karen and me."
Her Secret, His Child Page 21
