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Shooting the Moon

Page 27

by Brenda Novak


  “Sorry,” Travis mumbled.

  “We didn’t mean anything by it,” Theo added.

  And when Brandon said goodbye to Scott and climbed onto the back of his father’s bike a few minutes later, Melissa waved at him.

  BRANDON FELT BETTER than he had in a long time. He’d known he would, if only he could be with Lauren. It felt pretty great that his dad was there, too. And the fact that Lauren wasn’t making him do his homework right away didn’t hurt, either.

  “It’s your turn,” his aunt said as she tossed a nine of spades onto the middle of the bed they were sitting on in her hotel room. “Don’t forget that the queen isn’t out yet.”

  Brandon checked his cards. The queen wasn’t out because he was holding it, on purpose. They’d played three hands already, and he’d lost all three, but he was only losing by twenty points. If he could shoot the moon he’d win the game. He frowned, wondering if his hand was good enough. He didn’t have a lot of high cards, but he did have the ace and the king of hearts. The rest was mostly one suit, which improved his chances…

  “Brandon?” his father prompted. Fortunately, Harley was just learning the game. Because he didn’t really know all the rules, there was a possibility he might not realize what Brandon was trying to do until it was too late.

  What the heck, he thought. He’d go for it. He threw one of his lowest spades on the pile to get rid of it before any of the point cards came out, and his father took the trick and led with a five of clubs. Then it was Lauren’s turn, but she was looking at him in a funny way, as though she wasn’t really paying attention to the game, and Brandon wasn’t sure he liked that. It made him nervous to see her preoccupied. Come to think of it, she’d been acting strange all afternoon….

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No, why?” she said.

  “Because you keep looking at my dad, and he keeps looking at you, and you sort of smile when he does, and…I don’t know. Something’s different.”

  His aunt glanced at Harley again, who nodded for her to continue, and she put her cards facedown in front of her. “Brandon, your father and I have something we want to tell you.”

  Oh, no. He’d asked for it. What now? “What is it? Is it time to go home already?” he asked, knowing by the tone of her voice that it wouldn’t be so simple. He just didn’t want to hear anything upsetting.

  “No.”

  “Then what? Is Grandpa mad at us? Did he and Grandma really give us permission to be together?”

  “That’s not it, either,” she said. “They gave us permission. As a matter of fact, they’ve given their permission for us to be together from now on.”

  This came as a surprise. Finally Brandon folded his own cards and forgot all about the strategy he’d been planning to use later in the game. “So they’re going to let us move to California?”

  Lauren nodded.

  “That was quick. I thought you said it would take a while.”

  “It would have, if Grandpa and Grandma hadn’t agreed. Fortunately for all of us, they did. But there’s been one…small change to what we talked about.”

  Brandon felt his stomach tense. What kind of change? Most of the changes lately hadn’t been good ones. “What’s that?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Your father and I are going to get married.”

  “Married?” he echoed, looking from one to the other.

  “Is that okay with you?” Lauren asked.

  He swallowed, feeling a flutter of excitement he was afraid to trust. “When?”

  “Soon. This weekend in Vegas. We want you to be there. And we want you to come and live with us.” She searched his face before continuing, “And if you’d like this as much as I would, I want to adopt you, to be your mom instead of just your aunt.”

  “Really?” he said.

  “Really.”

  “We’d still go to California?”

  “Yes. Your father owns a Harley Davidson dealership out there, so he’ll be pretty busy, but I’ll be taking care of you during the days, just like always. And he’ll be with us whenever he’s not at work….”

  “And I’ll work from home a lot,” his father said, “or take you and Lauren with me. When you get older, you can work at the dealership if you want. And we’d like to have other children so you’ll have some brothers and sisters.”

  “Wow, a real family,” Brandon breathed. He’d have a mom and a dad. And brothers and sisters. Just like the kids at school. Life couldn’t get any better than that.

  A smile stretched across his face, a smile that felt wider than any he remembered, and he shoved the cards aside in favor of giving Lauren and his father a big hug. “I’d like that,” he said. “I’d really like that.”

  His father ruffled his hair and kissed Lauren’s temple, and they made plans together for the next hour. They were going to live in a big house not far from San Francisco. Brandon would go to a school that was just as good as Mt. Marley, his father said, and he was going to fly back and see Scott over the summer. And they’d spend Thanksgiving with Grandma and Grandpa Worthington. He even got to call and talk to Harley’s mom, his new grandmother.

  “Are you ready to finish the game?” Lauren asked, when he’d hung up and they’d finally stopped dreaming about what it was going to be like.

  Brandon glanced at his cards. “No,” he said, “not tonight.”

  “But I thought you wanted to shoot the moon,” she said.

  He smiled. “Somehow if feels like I just did.”

  EPILOGUE

  HARLEY BRACED HIMSELF as he pulled into the Worthingtons’ front drive and parked. Autumn was already turning to hard winter in Portland—there were patches of snow on the ground and the sky was gray and overcast—but it wasn’t the cold that made him reluctant to get out of the car. It was the past. After six months of heaven, he had to come back and face this place, face Quentin.

  Brandon obviously felt none of the same hesitation. He hopped out of the Suburban as soon as it came to a complete stop, along with Duke, the dog Harley and Lauren had bought for him when they moved to California, and dashed to the house.

  “Wait till Grandma sees you,” Brandon told his dog.

  Harley watched the pair ruefully. He sincerely doubted Grandfather Worthington was going to be very pleased about having a canine guest. Her father wasn’t an animal-lover, Lauren had explained, telling Brandon to make sure the dog didn’t lick Grandpa or jump up on him. But as unhappy as he might be to have a dog in the house, Harley knew Quentin would prefer the dog to him. After all, he was the man who’d taken both of Quentin’s daughters away from him. He was the son of a bitch who wasn’t good enough to—

  “You nervous?”

  Harley glanced away from the Worthington house to focus on Lauren, who was sitting with her door open, waiting for him. “No,” he lied.

  “You don’t have to come with us, if you don’t want to,” she said. “I’ll understand. You can get a motel, and we’ll meet up with you after a short visit.”

  “No, I want to come. I promised your mother I’d bring the whole family, and here we are. I’m sure your father will deal with it.” He’d better deal with it, he thought, because if he hurts you again…

  The old anger flared up, flashing through Harley as hot and bright as lightning, but Harley consciously forced it down. Today was Thanksgiving. He and his little family had flown from California and rented a car in anticipation of spending the holiday with Lauren’s parents. Harley was going to assume the best and do all he could to make it pleasant for Lauren and Brandon, even though he hadn’t heard anything in the past six months to give him much hope that Quentin had softened. Lauren and her mother frequently spoke on the telephone, but every time Harley questioned Lauren about her father, she shook her head. “He still won’t talk to me,” she always said. “Whenever I call, he immediately passes the phone to my mother.” Then she always finished with a smile and a “he’ll come around.”

  Harley hoped he wou
ld, for Lauren’s sake. He hated the sad expression that flitted across her face when her father was mentioned and she thought Harley wasn’t looking, hated the fact that she wanted something he couldn’t give her.

  “What do you think he’s going to say about the baby?” he asked.

  Lauren patted her round belly and shrugged nonchalantly, but Harley had spent too much time memorizing her every expression to miss the uncertainty in her eyes. “What can he say?” she said. “I’m thrilled. And our baby is part of us now.”

  That was what worried Harley. The baby was part of him, which meant Quentin wouldn’t want anything to do with it, and the rejection would probably devastate Lauren….

  “Let’s go,” he said, before his mind could present him with any more possibilities.

  Rounding the car, he helped Lauren out, then walked beside her to the front door, which stood open. Inside, Harley could hear Marilee gushing over Brandon—how tall he was getting, how handsome—but there was no sign of Quentin.

  “Hi, Mom,” Lauren said.

  When Marilee looked up, her face brightened even more. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve missed you so much.” She embraced her daughter and they talked briefly and excitedly about the pregnancy, then Marilee turned to Harley.

  “You brought them back to me,” she said. “Just like you promised.”

  Harley nodded. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Worthington. You’re looking fit as ever.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that flattery stuff,” she said with a chuckle. “You’re the one who looks good. Still handsome as the devil, I see. Lauren must be feeding you well.”

  He smiled at Lauren and felt suddenly glad that he was standing in Quentin Worthington’s living room. It was where his wife had been raised, where she belonged this Thanksgiving, and whether it was a pleasant stay for him or not, he knew, in that moment, he’d walk through fire for her. “I certainly can’t complain,” he said. “You taught her well.”

  “I can’t take the credit for her, but I will ask you for one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t call me Mrs. Worthington.”

  Harley hesitated. “Would you like me to call you by your first name?”

  Marilee took Lauren’s hand as though they stood together on this issue. “I’d like you to call me Mom, if you can get used to it. I realize we’ve had our differences in the past, but—” she made a nervous gesture with her free hand “—well, I’m hoping we can put it behind us and be a real family.”

  Harley knew the “mom” part would feel strange on his tongue, especially at first, but he was all for putting the past behind them. “Sure,” he said. “No problem,” and was rewarded with a dazzling smile from his wife that made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless. How he loved her. He was so happy to have her and Brandon and their baby….

  “Where’s Grandpa?” Brandon asked, and the kissing fantasy instantly dissipated.

  “He must not have heard the doorbell,” Marilee said, but she seemed as tense as Lauren. They exchanged a look, then Marilee headed out of the room. “I’ll get him.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Lauren said in her absence.

  Brandon didn’t seem to be paying much attention. He was too distracted by his Golden Retriever, which was still only a puppy, but Harley put a hand on Lauren’s lower back to reassure her.

  “Sure it will,” he said, and then Quentin was standing at the end of the hall, staring at him, and he wondered if he’d been wrong.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Lauren said, her voice full of hope and longing.

  Answer her, Harley thought. Give some welcoming sign….

  But Quentin didn’t speak. He stood rooted to the spot, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Just when Harley was about to take Lauren’s hand and insist they leave rather than let Lauren be hurt any more, he noticed tears pooling in the older man’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren,” Quentin managed after several seconds. “I’m sorry.” The words sounded as though they’d been wrung from him, but they were there, soft and sweet and best of all, sincere. And they were enough for Lauren.

  She immediately launched herself into his arms. “Oh, Daddy, it’s okay. I love you,” she said, but he held her off and directed his gaze at Harley.

  “I’m not finished yet,” he said. He cleared his throat and his chest expanded as though he’d just taken a big gulp of air. “I owe Harley an apology, too. If he’ll accept it.”

  Harley couldn’t believe his ears. Quentin Worthington was apologizing to him? “Of course I’ll accept it,” he said.

  “You’ve done right by my daughter,” Quentin went on. “Marilee’s told me how happy she is about the baby. And I’ve seen the wedding photos she sent. That one with both of you on the motorcycle, driving away, and her in her wedding dress…” He smiled vaguely and shook his head. “Anyway, Brandon’s happy, too. I’m grateful for that.”

  “Thank you,” Harley said and suddenly, all the anger he’d ever felt, all the resentment, drained out of him, and the seeds of something else took its place, something a lot like love, or respect, or both. He watched Quentin hug Lauren and Brandon, then felt Marilee at his side, nudging him toward Quentin. Closing the gap between them, he stuck out his hand and smiled when Quentin clasped it.

  “To forgetting the past,” Quentin said as their hands met.

  “To a bright future as friends,” Harley replied.

  “As family,” Quentin corrected, giving his hand a solid shake. Then Lauren was hugging Harley and he could feel the swell of his baby as she pressed close. Brandon was hugging him, too, and Lauren’s parents were holding each other and smiling and crying, and Harley thought coming for Thanksgiving was the best promise he’d ever kept.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-4025-8

  SHOOTING THE MOON

  Copyright © 2002 by Brenda Novak.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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