And frankly, that galled her a little—no, a lot.
Men and their damnable pride. She had too much to do already, and now she’d committed herself to yet another task, one that would probably prove impossible.
By the time lunch hour rolled around, Julie was, as the old saying went, fit to be tied.
Even deep breathing, usually her mainstay, didn’t help.
Instead of eating in the cafeteria or the teacher’s lounge, Julie ducked into her tiny office in the darkened auditorium, got out her cell phone and called Gordon back.
“Julie?” he said, sounding surprised.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” Julie replied, and then wished she’d said something else. Anything else. It wasn’t as if her ex would be doing her some big favor by taking her call. He’d been the one to initiate things, not her.
“I’m straddling the ridgepole on a roof at the moment,” Gordon said, with a smile in his voice. “Nailing down shingles.”
Julie remembered that Gordon worked in construction now. “I guess I could call back later,” she said uncertainly. There was the school day to finish, then the first set of tryouts for Kiss Me Kate, then picking up Calvin, getting him through his bath and his prayers.
As much as she wanted to ask her little boy about calling Gordon—it was paramount for Calvin to understand that he’d done nothing wrong by telephoning his father—there probably wouldn’t be time or energy for it. Not that night, at least.
“Julie,” Gordon said quickly, earnestly, “stay on the line. Please. I’m wearing a headpiece, so I’ve got both hands free for hanging on.”
Julie smiled at that, a smile muted to sadness by memories of another time and place, when she and Gordon had expected to be together forever.
Or, at least, that had been her expectation. Gordon’s take on the situation might have been entirely different from hers, right from the very beginning.
“I’m here,” she said, quietly and at some length.
Gordon’s voice was gruff when he replied. “About that phone call this morning,” he said. “I’m sorry, Julie. I didn’t mean to imply that you were—well—that I think there’s anything wrong with the way you’re raising our son. From what little I’ve seen of him—and I know that’s my own fault and not yours—Calvin is a great kid.”
Julie’s eyes burned. Furious heartache rose up into her throat and expanded there, painfully.
Our son, Gordon had said.
The phrase made her feel fiercely territorial, a tigress backed into a corner with her cub, so it was probably a good thing that she was too choked up to speak.
She might not have been able to hold back all the damning questions she wanted to hurl at Gordon Pruett in those wretched moments: How dare you say our son? Where were you when he nearly died of an asthma attack during Thanksgiving dinner? Where were you when he was teething, when he had the flu and couldn’t keep anything down? Where were you when he was asking why he didn’t have a dad to take him camping and fishing, like his friend Justin does?
“Hey,” Gordon said, when she didn’t speak. “Are you still there?”
Julie managed to croak out a “Yes.”
There was a pause, then Gordon launched cheerfully into the real reason he’d gotten in touch with her that morning, when she was driving to work. “My folks are visiting Dixie and me next week, and they want to meet Calvin. “He paused, reining it in a little. “If that’s okay with you, I mean.”
Julie straightened her spine. Drew a deep breath and let it out without making a sound. “It depends on what you have in mind,” she replied, pleasantly surprised by how calm and together she sounded. Everything inside her seemed to be jostling about, competing for a chance to jump onto a hamster wheel and run like hell. “I think it would be wonderful for Calvin to meet his grandparents.”
On her side of the family, there was only Marva, since her father was gone. Marva was an interesting grandmother, in an Auntie Mame sort of way—but there was no getting around the undeniable fact that she was a character.
The one and only Marva.
“But?” Gordon prodded, not unkindly.
Julie sighed, but this time she made no effort to be quiet about it. “But you’ll all have to come here, to Blue River. And if I can’t be there personally, throughout the visit, then I want one of my sisters to be.”
“I’m not planning on kidnapping the little guy, Julie,” Gordon said, his tone reasonable, but shot through with some vexation, too. “My mom and dad have never seen him.”
Whose fault is that? demanded the part of Julie’s brain she was trying so hard to control.
“Those are the terms, Gordon.”
“Take it or leave it?” Gordon asked, sadly amused.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Julie answered.
“Okay,” Gordon agreed. “We’ll book a couple of rooms at the Amble On Inn, then, and drive down from Dallas on Friday—Thursday if I can get the time off. I’ll let you know when the plans are firmed up.”
“Okay,” Julie said.
Gordon chuckled. “Julie?”
“What?”
“I know it’s hard, adjusting to my being back in your life, but I’m not your enemy. I’m not trying to steal Calvin away, or turn him against you. I blew it, big time, and I’m the first to admit it. You’ll never know how much I regret not being there for Calvin and for you, because if there are words to describe it, they’re ones I’ve never learned.” A pause, an indrawn breath, a sigh. “I just want a chance to know my son, Julie. That’s all. Just to know him.”
“And your parents,” Julie pointed out, strangely compelled to cross t’s and dot i’s.
In all the time they were together, she and Gordon, he’d never introduced her to them. She’d wondered, back then and not very often, if it was because he was ashamed, either of dear old Mom and Dad—or of her.
The wild, unconventional girl from Blue River, Texas.
Full of spirit and confidence in those days, either singing and dancing with professional theater companies or waiting tables between semesters of college, always paying her own way, Julie had never seriously entertained the possibility that Gordon’s folks might not approve of her.
She did now.
“And my parents,” Gordon affirmed.
They said their awkward goodbyes then, and, mercifully, the call ended.
Julie had barely caught her breath when Libby dialed in. Calvin, through with kindergarten for the day, would be over at the community center by now, no doubt listening to a story or scaling the walls of the remarkably authentic toy castle Tate and his daughters had donated.
Unless something was wrong.
“Hey, Julie,” Libby said.
Anxiety washed over Julie. “Is everyone all right?”
“Yes,” Libby was quick to reply. “Mostly, anyway. I just got a call from the school—Audrey and Ava seem to have come down with identical cases of the flu. I’m off to pick them up in a couple of minutes, and I’ll be taking them by the clinic, of course, since they’re running fevers. What it all boils down to is this—I don’t think we should expose Calvin.”
Julie closed her eyes for a moment, already shaking her head. “No,” she agreed.
“I know you were counting on us to look after Calvin until you get home from the tryouts for the play—”
“Don’t worry about it, Lib,” Julie broke in. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe Paige can help.”
“I’m so sorry, Jules.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Julie said. “Just take care of Audrey and Ava. And let me know what the doctor says, will you?”
Libby promised a full report and rang off, only to call again before Julie had even managed to set the phone down.
“Garrett’s here,” Libby told Julie, without any sort of preamble. “He says he can pick Calvin up and bring him to you or out to the ranch—whatever works for you.”
Julie’s heart did a funny little flip, and she silently scolded hers
elf for making a big deal out of nothing. “Ask him to please bring Calvin here,” she said. “To the auditorium, I mean.”
Libby relayed this to Garrett, then asked, “What time?”
“Three?” Julie said. Classes were dismissed at 2:45; this way, she’d have fifteen minutes to “unfrazzle,” a term her friend and fellow teacher Helen used, before coming face-to-face with Garrett McKettrick.
Libby repeated the time to Garrett, then confirmed, “He’ll be there.”
“Tell him thanks,” Julie told her sister. “I really appreciate this. And don’t forget I want an update on the twins, once they’ve seen the doctor.”
“I won’t forget,” Libby promised.
Julie speed-dialed the community center, told one of the day-care workers that Calvin wouldn’t be riding the bus home with the McKettrick twins the way he usually did. Instead, Garrett would stop by to pick him up.
“This is going to sound real silly,” Soliel Roberts said, “since you and Garrett and I all grew up together and everything, but I’m going to need written permission to turn Calvin over to anybody besides you or Libby or Paige, dated and signed. You can fax it over, if you like. The fax number is 555-7386.”
“I’ll do that,” Julie replied gently. “Thanks, Soliel.”
Soliel said she was welcome, goodbyes were exchanged and Julie rooted in her lunch bag for the half sandwich she’d packed that morning, in the ranch-house kitchen. She’d already wolfed down the apple during her morning break.
The afternoon passed quickly, and Julie was grateful, considering that the second part of the day often seemed twice as long as the first.
At three o’clock, she was consulting with Mrs. Chambers, the music teacher, and a few of the most dedicated kids were already lolling in the front row of seats, texting each other while they waited to get up on stage and strut their stuff.
Calvin came racing down the middle aisle, his face flushed with excitement and the chill of a fall afternoon. “Garrett came and got me at school today!” he shouted, unable to contain his exuberance. “And it was just like having a dad!”
Julie’s cheeks stung a little, though she smiled and bent down for Calvin’s hello hug. Over the top of his head, she caught sight of Garrett, standing in the shadows at the back of the auditorium.
She couldn’t see his face, but that didn’t matter.
The familiar jolt went through her anyway.
While Calvin remained at the base of the stage, showing Mrs. Chambers his papers from school, Julie approached Garrett.
“Thank you,” she said, peering cautiously at his badly swollen right eye. From a distance, she hadn’t been able to see the damage. Up close, he looked as though something with hooves had kicked him in the face. “What happened to you?”
Garrett folded his arms, and his mouth—oh, his dangerous mouth—crooked up at one side. “I ran into a door?” he said.
“You were in a fight,” Julie guessed aloud, keeping her voice down so Calvin, Mrs. Chambers and the theater kids wouldn’t hear.
“You should see the other guy,” Garrett joked.
She wanted to touch him. She wanted to fuss and fret and fetch an ice pack.
Which was why she was so careful to keep her distance.
“Does it hurt?” She couldn’t resist asking him that.
He chuckled. “A little. Mostly, I’m numb.”
“I appreciate your bringing Calvin over from school.”
“It might be a long haul for the little guy,” Garrett observed. “Hanging around here until you’re done, I mean. I could take him on home if that would be better.”
Julie glanced back at Calvin, knew he’d be better off at the house, with Esperanza and Garrett, rather than hanging around the auditorium until all hours, either bored out of his skull or creating a distraction or both.
“I couldn’t ask you—or Esperanza—”
Garrett silenced her by resting the tip of one index finger against her lips, so lightly and so briefly that afterward she was never sure that he’d touched her at all. “You’re not asking,” he said. “I’m offering.”
Julie’s heart filled with something warm and sweet, and then overflowed. She hoped Garrett hadn’t guessed that, just by looking at her. He’d think she was a sentimental sap if he had.
Just then, Calvin raced up the aisle and leaned against Julie’s side. “I’m hungry,” he said.
Garrett looked down at him, ruffled his hair. “Me, too,” he agreed. “What do you say we go home and see if we can charm Esperanza into rustling up some grub?”
Calvin practically vibrated with eagerness. “That would be cool,” he said. Then he looked up at Julie, his little face screwed up with studious concern, his glasses slightly askew, as they so often were. “Aren’t you hungry, too, Mom?” he asked.
If she hadn’t known it would embarrass her little boy, she would have pulled him into her arms, then and there, and hugged him tight.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Somebody ordered pizza.”
Calvin mulled that over. “Harry probably needs to go outside,” he concluded at last. “And he’ll be needing some kibble and some fresh water pretty soon.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Julie replied seriously.
“You don’t mind if I go on to the Silver Spur with Garrett, then?” Calvin sounded so hopeful that Julie ached. “Instead of staying here with you?”
“I don’t mind,” Julie said, choking up a little.
Just then, her gaze connected with Garrett’s.
“Have you heard anything from Libby? About Audrey and Ava, I mean?” Julie’s cell phone was in the bottom of her purse; if her sister had called with news about Tate’s girls and their twin cases of flu, she hadn’t heard the ring.
“Tate called a little while ago,” Garrett said. “It’s the usual prescription—bed rest, children’s aspirin and plenty of fluids. The twins will be fine in a day or two.”
“But in the meantime,” Calvin interjected, with energetic distaste, “they’re really germy. I could be contaged just by being in the same room when they cough or sneeze.”
“Sounds ominous,” Garrett remarked, giving Calvin’s shoulder a light punch, guy-like.
“Let’s go,” Calvin said, obviously impatient to be on his way, with Garrett.
Inside Julie, sorrow squeezed hard. It would be years before Calvin was old enough to leave home. Why was she always so conscious that the clock was ticking?
Garrett ducked his head slightly, to look into her face. “You okay?” he asked.
Julie swallowed hard, then nodded. Smiled. “I’ll see you both later—around eight o’clock, I expect.”
“See you then,” Garrett said. His eyes seemed to caress her, warming her flesh, awakening her tired nerves.
Ten minutes ago, she’d been looking forward to the end of the day, when she could take a warm bath and then crawl into her bed.
Now she was only interested in the bed, and it was Garrett’s bed she wanted to slip into, not hers.
Julie shook off a cloud of stars, nodded again, then bent to kiss the top of Calvin’s head. “Be good,” she said.
Calvin gave a sigh that seemed to rise from the soles of his little high-top sneakers. “I’m always good,” he said. “It gets boring.”
Garrett chuckled at that. “Come on, pardner,” he said, getting Calvin by the hood of his new nylon jacket and steering him in the general direction of the main doors. “We’ve got things to do out on the ranch—nothing like doing chores to put an end to boredom—and your mom has things to do here.”
“Garrett?” His name came fragile from her throat, shimmering and iridescent, like a soap bubble.
He’d turned away, engaged with Calvin, who was already recounting some incident that had taken place on the playground at school, but when Julie spoke, Garrett turned his head to look back at her.
She moved close to him, unable to help herself, touched her fingertips to the bruised skin under his ey
e. “You’ll tell me what happened? Later on?”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Garrett said, almost sighing the words.
Moments later, he and Calvin were gone.
Julie turned back to the task at hand—back to the kids and the stage and Mrs. Chambers’s piano-pounding musical style.
Kiss Me Kate wasn’t going to cast itself, after all.
UPSTAIRS IN HIS OWN KITCHEN, Garrett hoisted Calvin onto the countertop, where the kid could watch the proceedings without being too close to anything hot or sharp. Buzzing with kid-energy, Calvin bounced the heels of his shoes against the cupboard door, stirring the dog, Harry, to a three-legged frenzy of yelping excitement.
“Whoa,” Garrett said good-naturedly. “Sit still.”
Calvin stopped kicking. Earlier, they’d fed the horses together, out in the barn, and the boy’s glasses had fogged over from the cold. Now they were clear again, magnifying his pale blue eyes.
“Do you think the doctor made Audrey and Ava get shots?” he asked Garrett, looking horrified at the prospect.
The dog quieted down, went back to his kibble bowl.
“Don’t know,” Garrett said, peeling the foil off the pan of chicken tamales Esperanza had left downstairs in the oven for supper. Turned out, she had a meeting at church.
“I hate shots,” Calvin told him.
“Well, now,” Garrett said reasonably, taking two plates down from a cupboard, “a cowboy always takes his medicine, if the doctor says he needs it.”
Calvin considered that, his eyes wide. “Did you ever cry, when you were little, and you had to have a shot?”
“No,” Garrett answered honestly, “but I ran out of the clinic once, when I was about your age, and hid in the men’s restroom of a gas station across the street, until my mom walked right in there and got me by the ear.”
He grinned at the memory.
He’d barely felt the injection, given a few minutes later, he’d been so impressed that his mother wasn’t afraid to march herself straight into a men’s room to collect him.
“And she made you get the shot?”
“It had to be done,” Garrett said, dishing up tamales.
Plates filled, he hoisted Calvin back down off the counter and set him on his feet.
McKettricks of Texas: Garrett Page 24
