by Warren, Pat
She hadn’t wanted the truth to get out to protect Ryan. That figured. “I guess she sold his expensive toys after he died. Did she get anything for them at least?”
“Not a cent. He’d made exactly two payments on that boat, so Megan just signed it over to the lender. The sports car was in the process of being repossessed when Neal died.” Turning back to the sink, she scrubbed viciously at the pan. “You don’t want to get me started on Neal Delaney unless you’ve got all night.”
Actually, he did have all night. But he had to wonder why Grace was so willingly telling him this now when earlier she’d been so reticent. “Did you finally decide you can trust me?” he asked, walking over and picking up the dish towel.
She shrugged. “Partly. The other part is I kind of got the feeling with all the questions you’ve been asking about Megan that you had this notion that she’s hiding something.” She looked up at him. “She is. The truth, which is that Neal hurt her in every way it’s possible for a man to hurt a woman. He deceived her royally and I’m not sure she’ll ever get over it. I thought I’d tell you the truth before you put two and two together and came up with five. The financial mess Megan’s in right now is all due to Neal.”
“Why’d she stay married to him so long?”
Grace sighed. “She had nowhere else to go. Her mother’s barely getting by herself, her two sisters are unmarried and still living at home, sometimes working, sometimes not. So Megan toughed it out. That’s why I don’t want you thinking bad things about her because she’s the sweetest, the kindest, the most honest—”
It was then that they heard a loud crash coming from the direction of the top floor.
Chapter 7
By the time Alex reached the second floor, he could hear the frightened wail of a young boy. Two steps at a time, his long legs scaled the stairs, not stopping until he was halfway down the third-floor hall. There was Ryan pinned under a rolling television stand, the TV on its side on the wood floor and Megan in her skimpy nightie standing on one foot, trying to right the cart to free him.
“Here, let me,” he said, moving in as Grace arrived, stepping in to steady Megan. “Ryan, you all right?” Alex asked.
“I think so,” a wobbly voice replied.
“Oh, God, Ryan,” Megan whispered, moving aside to give Alex room.
Grace squeezed her friend’s arm. “He’s all right, so don’t you worry.”
Alex saw that the cord from the portable television set had gotten tangled in the wheels of the stand, causing it to topple. “Hold on,” he told the frightened boy. Grunting, he picked up the TV and shifted it to a clear spot, then pulled the two-tiered stand off Ryan.
He quickly scrambled up and ran into his mother’s arms. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Now that he was safe, she relaxed, hugging him to her as she leaned against the wall. “Are you hurt? Let me see.” Easing back from him, she checked him over, pulling up the pant legs of his Tasmanian devil pajamas, then the sleeves. “You might have a bruise on your elbow later from when you hit the floor.” She framed his tear-streaked face in both her hands. “Whatever were you doing?”
Ryan sniffled loudly. “I thought you looked lonely, so I was taking my TV into your room so you could watch it.” He turned away. looking toward Alex who’d placed the set back on the stand. “Did I break it?”
“I don’t think so,” Alex told him. “I think one of the wheels on the cart is bent, but that’s simple enough to fix.” He eyed the small fry. “Next time you get the urge to move furniture, sport, maybe you should call me, eh?”
Glad no one was yelling at him, gladder still that his TV wasn’t broken, Ryan nodded. “Okay,” he agreed in a small voice.
“It was a lovely thought, sweetie,” Megan said now that her heartbeat had normalized, “but let’s leave the TV in your room. I’m not really in the mood to watch anything tonight.”
“But when I peeked in, you looked so lonesome.”
Megan smiled at his soft little heart. “I am, a little. Why don’t you come in and talk to me for a little while before lights-out, okay? You’re much better than TV.”
Swiping at his cheeks, embarrassed that he’d been scared enough to cry in front of Alex, Ryan nodded and allowed her to lead him into her bedroom with Grace’s assistance.
“Would you mind putting that back in Ryan’s room, Alex?” she asked over her shoulder.
He looked up from the cord he’d been winding, a look of exaggerated shock on his face. “What’s this, Ms. Delaney? You’re actually asking for help with something? You must have developed a fever.”
“You’re quite the comedian,” she said, but she smiled.
After several minutes, Grace returned, releasing a relieved sigh. “That boy just put a dozen new gray hairs on my poor little head.”
“You’d be gorgeous bald, Grace, and you know it,” Alex told her as he wheeled the stand and set into Ryan’s room. Maneuvering it into the empty spot beneath the Michael Jordan poster he’d hung for Ryan, he bent to plug it in. Then, because he knew Ryan would want to know, he turned it on for a test run. Sure enough, the picture came on, the colors nice and bright and the sound fine. “A good, sturdy set,” he told Grace, shutting it off.
“It’s not even a year old. Megan sold Neal’s gold watch and bought this for Ryan shortly after the funeral. The only other television’s down in the community room and most of our guests don’t turn on children’s shows. She felt he needed something in his room.”
“I agree.” He shook his head in wonder. “Imagine, he thought she looked lonely.”
Grace studied him up close for a long minute.
He caught her and frowned. “What?”
“You’re falling for the two of them, aren’t you, Mr. Magic Man? And I’d bet my best cubic zirconia that you surely hadn’t planned on that happening.”
“Who, me?” Alex shook his head emphatically. “No, ma’am. Like you, I’ve already struck out in the marriage game. I travel single-o and I like it that way.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, walking out of Ryan’s room. “If I was a betting woman, I’d sure bet the farm on this one.” And what’s more, Grace wasn’t absolutely convinced she approved.
Stretching his long legs, Alex walked up the hill behind the Delaney house, climbing slowly, his eyes on the ground. The grass was scraggly here, peppered with stones both smooth and sharp nestled among the wildflowers. Manzanita grew wild along one side and there were patches of poison oak. He recognized wild lupine looking silvery in the spotty moonlight, and even creosote. Hardly noticing, he strolled on.
Finally, he reached the edge of the cliff and gingerly sat down on the ledge made by a large flat rock. It was quiet except for the furtive scramblings of a few furry creatures. No birdsongs tonight, not even a cricket serenade. If he listened carefully, he could hear ocean waves in the distance rolling into shore with a rush, then being sucked back out to sea. He caught the scent of salt in the night air.
He’d come out here because he needed some distance. He felt a little like a fish who’d been struggling on the line for a long while, thinking he was winning the battle only to be slowly reeled in after all. Down there at that house, for days now, he’d been pulled in emotionally. For all his travels, his many adventures, he’d never experienced anything like it.
He’d set out on a mission—to make sure what remained of the Delaney family was handling things well, financially and otherwise. Not altogether altruistically, but to ease his conscience. And he’d found more than he’d bargained for.
He’d found a woman who’d had a difficult childhood, a disappointing marriage, and who was still having a rough go of it. Yet she never complained. She operated a business that drew repeat customers because of her generous nature and a marvelous flair for cooking and because she made them all feel welcome and at home. Let’s not forget that she kissed like every man’s dream. A woman a man so inclined could easily love.
Then there was the boy. Eager to learn, a
nxious to please, with a mischievous grin and a laugh that could warm the coldest of hearts. The boy who looked at him with trust and admiration, with worship in his deep blue eyes, who made him feel ten feet tall. No one had ever looked at Alex like that before. The kind of boy who had him wondering if he could live up to the kid’s expectations. A boy a man could learn to love without half trying.
But he kept coming back to one thing. He wasn’t in the market. Not for a woman or a boy or the family they represented. Oh, he might be inclined to linger a while, coax the woman into bed, be a stand-in father to the kid until he had a handle on the guy things every boy needed to know. He’d enjoy them, write a few checks to further ease his conscience, then go back to his carefree, uncomplicated single life. He was good at being single. A man should do what he’s good at.
Alex swallowed around a bitter lump in his throat at the mental assessment he’d just made of himself. Not very pretty. Not really a stand-up guy. Not a hell of a lot better than the about-to-be ex-husband who’d died.
How was it that after less than two weeks here, he viewed his life before this trip with a somewhat jaundiced eye? What was wrong here? What had changed? He didn’t want what Megan and Ryan might offer him because he was happy with his life the way it had been before his illness, before the surgery. He didn’t want a family, a commitment to one woman for the rest of his life, a child, possibly more. Hadn’t he already divorced one woman who’d wanted to have that kind of life with him? He’d run fast and furiously from Cynthia because he’d told himself he needed to be free.
Look at his mother, struck down in her thirties by a fatal illness, missing out on so much. And Patrick, so young, having experienced so little. Alex had learned from their deaths that life was awfully damn short and that, although work was important, you’d better have some fun because no one knew what was around that next corner. There was so much he hadn’t tried yet, done yet. How could he pursue an adventurous lifestyle tied to a family?
But wait. Alex shifted, stretching out his legs. Whatever made him think Megan would want him anyway? He deceived her royally and I’m not sure she’ll ever get over it. That’s what Grace had told him about Neal’s relationship with Megan. She’d been hurt, betrayed, disappointed. What would she say when she learned, as surely she must, that his being here was also a deception?
Just when she was beginning to trust a little, how could he destroy her a second time? Yet, if he was to stay much longer, how could he not tell her? He’d only wanted to help, yet he’d made a mess of things.
Slowly, he got to his feet. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, yet maybe he already had. With a heavy heart, Alex started back.
“Okay now, I’ll hold the nail and you hammer it in. Watch that you don’t hit your fingers. Or mine, for that matter.” Alex shoved the corner board into place, then positioned the nail. “Now.”
His face a study in concentration, tongue in the corner of his mouth, Ryan lifted the hammer with both hands and brought it down. Only he missed the nail by about an inch. “Phooey!”
“Try again,” Alex advised, exhibiting more patience than he’d thought he had. Ever since Ryan had come home from school, they’d been working on the tree-house floor in the grass of the backyard for nearly two hours and they were nearly finished. The fun is in the doing, not just in the finished product, he reminded himself. The purpose was to teach Ryan some guy things. Again, he positioned the nail.
Ryan swiveled the baseball hat on his head until the bill was in the back, then raised the hammer again. To his surprise and enormous pleasure, he hit the head dead center. He flashed a grin to Alex. “I did it!”
“You sure did. Now keep going. We’ve got to bury that nail.” Alex made sure the nail had caught before removing his hand.
The boy pounded three more times, then gave a final smack for good measure. The nail was firmly in place. “Hey, this is fun.”
Alex had done the preliminary nailing, showing Ryan how, then finally turning that chore over to him. “I knew you’d like it. We need to put another one at the other end to make sure the board holds.” Shifting, he positioned another nail. “Go to it.”
Ryan raised the hammer.
“What on earth are you two doing?” Megan asked, coming onto the scene as she stepped out the back door.
Startled, Ryan dropped the hammer. The business end landed on Alex’s hand. He yelped in pain. “Ow!”
“Sorry,” Ryan said, bending over to see what damage he’d done.
Alex scowled at Megan. “What are you doing walking?”
Wearing her air cast, Megan hobbled over to them, taking care on the uneven grass. “I can’t spend the rest of my days with my foot elevated. I’m fine. What, may I ask, are you two building?”
“A tree house,” Ryan explained, a wide smile on his face.
“I see.” It was Megan’s turn to scowl, and she aimed it at Alex. “I thought we had an understanding that you and I would talk things over before they were brought up to the c-h-i-l-d?”
Sitting on the grass, Alex’s smile was sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you when you weren’t feeling up to par. We were going to tell you as soon as we finished the floor.”
“I know what word you spelled, Mom,” Ryan said, pleased to have caught on. “Child. What child?”
With her free hand, Megan swiveled his hat around. “You, silly. You’re the child, I’m the mom.” She turned her blue eyes to Alex. “The one who approves all of the child’s projects.”
Obviously, she was feeling better since she was back to feisty, Alex thought. She’d lost that pained look. She was wearing a long T-shirt that came almost to the edge of her shorts. At the sight of those incredible legs, Alex had trouble keeping his mind on the current project and their conversation.
Pointedly, he glanced at the small pile of lumber pieces, then up at her. “All right, we can break it up and quit if you like.”
“Ah, Mom, no!” Ryan was heartbroken. “We were going to move it up into that bald spot in the tree over there.” He pointed at the chosen location. “Please, can we?”
The onus was on her, yet how could she shatter the boy’s dream now that they’d begun? Narrowing her eyes, she saw that Alex was aware of her dilemma. Megan studied the old tree, wondering if it would hold both the weight of the wooden structure and her son. Something else to worry about. “How are you going to get up and down?”
“Alex is going to help me build climbing steps up.” Ryan shuffled his feet in nervous excitement.
“I realize you’re in construction,” she told Alex, “but is this thing going to be sturdy enough?”
“Absolutely. Shephard Construction guarantees every job.” He grinned boyishly.
“All right, I guess I’m outnumbered yet again.” Her tone seemed to imply that she was running out of patience with his backhanded maneuverings.
“I’ll test the steps and building with my own weight, then we’ll know it’ll hold his and a friend’s. All right?” He knew how skeptical women were about such things.
“I guess so.” Shuffling to a tree stump, she sat down to watch.
It took Ryan and Alex another fifteen minutes to get the last board in place. Alex stepped back, his head cocked, mentally critiquing the finished product. But to Ryan, it was a work of art.
“Isn’t it swell, Mom?”
“Mmm.” Squinting, Megan again eyed the tree. “That spot’s up awfully high, Alex. Couldn’t you anchor it a bit lower?”
Hands on his hips, he turned to her, a look of amused patience on his face. “Are we being a tad overprotective again, Mom?”
“Maybe, but if he falls—”
“He won’t. Eight-year-old boys are agile. By the time we’re finished, you’ll feel better. There’ll be handholds along the steps, natural ones from the tree branches.” He gazed down at Ryan affectionately. “He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be fine.”
A conspiracy, that’s what it was. That male-bondi
ng thing. Only what would happen when Alex went on his way? Would Ryan still be thrilled with his tree house? Or was she just borrowing trouble?
Megan checked her watch. “Time to go in and do your homework, Ryan.”
“Can’t we put the floor up in the tree now, Alex?”
“Tomorrow’s another day, sport.” He bent to return the hammer and nails to the somewhat rusty tool chest he’d found in the backyard shed. “Homework comes first.”
“Okay. Thanks, Alex. I...I love it.” Embarrassed at his own emotions, Ryan skipped off and went inside.
That was the second time the kid had really gotten to him, Alex thought. The first time had been his spontaneous hug when he’d given him the Austin Healy model.
“You really like him, don’t you?” Megan asked, her voice soft. She’d been watching the two together, first through the kitchen window, then closer up in the yard as they hammered away. She’d been worried about allowing her son to get close to a man who’d soon be leaving. Yet maybe Grace was right. Maybe some exposure to men was better than none. And she’d have to rely on Ryan to handle the goodbye scenes somehow.
“Yeah, I really do. He’s a tornado, a whirlwind, a dynamo. I’m nuts about him.”
A tornado, Megan thought. Wasn’t that what she’d labeled Alex—whirling in, taking over, devastating the calm she’d worked so hard to achieve?
Alex flipped the lid closed on the tool chest and sat back down, bracing his forearms on his raised knees. “Does that surprise you?”
“I guess, in a way.”
“Me, too. I’ve never spent much time with kids. Ryan’s terrific, but I think you already know that. You’ve done a great job raising him.” Unspoken were the words without much help from his father.
“Thanks. You mentioned you’d been married for less than a year. No children, I take it?”
