Expectations

by Brenda Novak

  A skinny young man sporting bleached-blond hair and four earrings in one ear, a Sex Wax T-shirt and pants big enough to fit the infamous fat man who had to be buried in a piano box, approached Adam. “Help you, dude?”

  Adam smiled. Apparently casual fashions had outdistanced him. He could see nothing appealing in wearing his pants belted around his knees. “We’re looking for two mountain bikes, one for an eight-year-old boy and the other for—”

  “A ten-year-old,” Cheryl finished for him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked Adam as the salesclerk directed them through racks of sportswear to a row of smaller bikes along one wall.

  “Would you rather have something else?”

  “No, Jason’s been wanting a bike for a couple of years, and now that we’re moving, he’ll actually have a place to ride it.”

  “Then it will serve as the thank-you I want it to be.”

  Taking Adam’s arm, Cheryl pulled him to a stop, regardless of the salesclerk bouncing ahead of them. “This Jenna is one lucky lady. I hope she knows that,” she said.

  Adam grinned. “Maybe I could use you as a reference.”

  THE DOOR HADN’T even slammed shut when Ryan rushed in from school and hollered, “Has anyone heard from Adam? Is he still coming?”

  On the phone Jenna covered the receiver and called to her son to keep his voice down and to join her in the kitchen. He breezed through the swinging door with a gust of youthful energy, flung his backpack into a chair and went straight to the refrigerator, where he stared inside as though he was seeing his favorite cartoons, instead of several cartons of milk.

  “I’m sorry, Todd. Ryan just got home from school. What were you saying?” Jenna asked.

  “Todd?” Ryan interrupted. “Who’s Todd?”

  Jenna put a finger to her lips to indicate silence and turned her attention back to the police officer.

  “I said I appeared for Dennis’s court date. He got another week,” Todd said.

  “I’ll bet that went over big.”

  “Actually he looked rather contrite.”

  Contrite? In fact, Jenna had seen Dennis contrite a number of times. Problem was, his humility only lasted until the next drinking spree. Knowing Ryan was now listening to the conversation and had no idea his father was in jail, Jenna amended what she would have said. “Good. Maybe this situation has given him some time to think.”

  “We were lucky he had Judge Rubio. He takes domestic violence pretty seriously. As things stand, I’d say a week in jail would give any normal man second thoughts about violating a restraining order.”

  Should she explain that Dennis had checked out of “normal” more than four years ago?

  “Mom, can I have this?” Ryan held up a soft drink, and Jenna shook her head.

  “Fruit,” she mouthed, then spoke into the mouthpiece. “I called the courthouse in Fort Bragg the day he was arraigned.”

  “I know. Hadley said you had. That’s why I haven’t gotten back to you sooner.”

  “Thanks, Todd. Let’s hope our, um, friend has learned his lesson.”

  “I’m sure he has, but once he gets out I’ll drive by the Victoriana occasionally, just to make sure everything’s okay.”

  When Jenna hung up she faced her son’s scowl over being denied a soda in favor of an apple.

  “Why can’t I have both?” he whined.

  “Because one is good for you and the other isn’t.” Jenna put down the pen she’d been doodling with and stood.

  “Where’s Mr. Robertson? He always has a snack for me on Fridays.”

  “He’s running a little late today, but he’ll be here soon. Don’t tell me he’s giving you soda before dinner.”

  Ryan frowned. “Only if I eat some fruit or vegetables first.”

  “Great. Eat some carrot sticks. I’ll scrape them for you if you want.”

  He let loose an exaggerated sigh, relinquished the can of pop to the refrigerator and snagged an apple. “Is Adam still coming?”

  Jenna opened her mouth to say she thought so when Mrs. Durham entered the room and answered in more certain terms. “He called this morning to say he’ll be here for dinner.”

  “He did?” Jenna and Ryan spoke at the same time, and Mrs. Durham chuckled.

  “It would be interesting to know which one of you is more excited,” she said as Ryan dashed outside, no doubt to keep his eyes peeled for the black Mercedes.

  “I’m not excited,” Jenna protested. “I’m relieved. I was afraid he’d disappoint Ryan.”

  There was a twinkle in Adam’s grandmother’s eyes as she started taking food out of the refrigerator and placing it on the counter. “Well, I, for one, am glad to have him back. We haven’t seen Adam twice in one week for years, so we must have something new to attract him.”

  “An endearing eight-year-old boy,” Jenna volunteered.

  “And his attractive mother.”

  “Pregnant mother,” Jenna corrected, but Mrs. Durham shrugged her words off with a laugh.

  “We’ll see who interests him more,” she said, and started dinner.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AT TWILIGHT, Adam parked next to a Toyota Land Cruiser in the Victoriana’s guest lot, relieved to have left San Francisco before traffic became a problem and more eager than he should have been to be in Mendocino. For years he’d felt like he’d escaped his small hometown in favor of the big city. Now he felt just the opposite—as if he’d escaped the city for the peace and comfort of home. He was changing. He didn’t know if all the changes were good, but he did know that his interpretation of personal success was no longer strictly attached to his profit-and-loss statement.

  Cutting the engine, he admired the Land Cruiser. Should he trade in the Mercedes for something bigger? He’d bought the car only six months earlier, but a two-seater suddenly seemed so impractical.

  “Adam!” Ryan came running from the house.

  Adam left his bags and started up the lawn to meet him. “I brought you something, squirt!” he announced, mussing the boy’s hair.

  Ryan skidded to a halt in front of him and stared, wide-eyed, at the Mercedes. Two bike tires, one large, one small, protruded from the rack attached to Adam’s trunk. “Is it a bike?”

  Adam laughed. “I would have wrapped it, but a bike doesn’t easily lend itself to concealment.”

  Ryan raced to the car and touched the red frame of the smaller mountain bike. “Wow, this one’s even better than Tommy’s!” he breathed as Adam joined him. “Can I ride it?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a helmet for you. Just stay here in the lot and watch for any cars that might turn in.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  Adam unhooked Ryan’s bike and adjusted the seat to fit him, then retrieved the new aerodynamic helmet from the passenger seat of his car. “Go ahead and get used to the bike now. That way you’ll be comfortable with it tomorrow.”

  “Okay!” Ryan climbed on and began to pedal, his smile big enough to catch flies in his teeth. “This is awesome!” he called.

  Adam laughed and retrieved his travel bag. “Bring it onto the porch when you’re done. We’ll need to lock it up for the night.”

  Ryan waved and Adam went inside, where several hotel guests were eating by candlelight in the formal dining room to his right. A warm softly lit atmosphere, enhanced by the comforting crackle of a fire, greeted him. He stood in the doorway for a moment, enjoying it, then the smell of steak and mushrooms enticed him to the kitchen. As he’d expected, he found his grandmother and Mr. Robertson there.

  “Adam, you made it.” The cook greeted him from across the room where he was busy chopping vegetables.

  “Safe and sound,” Adam told him with a smile.

  “How did you get here so early?” Gram turned away from the stove as Adam dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I didn’t think you’d arrive until after seven.”

  “You said you and Mr. Robertson were making my favorite steak with mushroom gravy. I was so excited, I almost
got here for breakfast.”

  She shrugged off his words. “You don’t need to waste your flattery on us. You can have our steak and mushrooms any weekend. I think this visit is about…other appetites.”

  “Don’t embarrass me, Gram,” he teased. “That kind of thing isn’t acknowledged between the generations.”

  She laughed. “Who do you think taught you about the birds and bees?”

  Mr. Robertson’s knife momentarily stopped its steady thump against the cutting board. “When you were about ten, I remember answering a few awkward questions myself.”

  And Adam remembered asking them. The Victoriana’s cook had been almost as permanent a fixture in his life as Gram and Pop. But Adam certainly didn’t want to revisit puberty. Feeling a grimace coming on, he stole a morsel of the tender meat Gram was stirring. “Do we have to go into that?”

  “Get your fingers out.” She smacked the back of his hand with her wooden spoon and reached for a plate. “Sit down and I’ll feed you.”

  He smiled, remembering all the meals he’d eaten while watching Gram and Pop and various hired help rush around the inn’s kitchen. As a teenager he’d earned money washing dishes for Mr. Robertson. Now the cook stacked dirty plates for the waitress to put in the large dishwasher when she finished out front. “Where’s Pop?” he asked.

  “Fixing a leak under the bathroom sink in the Ocean View room. He’ll be coming in search of his dinner any minute.”

  “And Jenna?”

  “She’s in the office, printing up new menus,” Robertson answered, going back to his onions. “Nowadays the finer restaurants change all their entrées every couple of weeks.”

  “And you’re not one to be outdone,” Adam said.

  “No, but I have to admit this new trend is taxing my creative ability to come up with something spectacular and different every two weeks.”

  “Whatever you make is excellent,” Gram told him.

  “I second that.” Jenna stepped into the kitchen carrying a stack of new menus and wearing a gray jacket and slacks with a white shirt. Simple yet elegant, her clothes looked expensive but probably weren’t. Maybe it was the casual way she wore them that appealed to Adam.

  “Hi.” She sent him a quick smile, then turned to Mr. Robertson. “What do you think? Do you like the new font I used?”

  “Very nice.”

  Adam sat back and listened to the hum of activity in the kitchen while he ate his dinner. He’d driven like a madman to get to Jenna as soon as possible, and now that he was here, he found it difficult to hide his interest.

  Her gaze flicked toward him and he smiled. Clearing her throat, she looked at the menus and answered a question put to her by the cook.

  Adam could tell his attention was flustering her—which meant she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be. Jenna had said she wouldn’t wave the white flag, not for him. But Adam was determined to prove her wrong. With any luck he’d have her screaming uncle before the night was through.

  FINISHED WITH THE MENUS, Jenna glanced around the kitchen. She’d expected Ryan to stick with Adam from the moment he arrived. So why was Adam here eating alone? “Where’s Ryan?”

  Christa, the new waitress, breezed into the kitchen to gather the filled plates waiting for her under the food warmer. “He’s outside riding his new bike. I can see him through the window. Looks like he’s having a blast.”

  Evidently Adam was serious about taking Ryan mountain biking. Jenna cocked an eyebrow at him but spoke to Christa. “How are you handling your first night?”

  “Oh, this is nothing,” she said. “You should see how fast I’ve had to hop in some of the coffee shops I’ve worked in over the years.”

  “Well, if you get overwhelmed, just let me know and I’ll help.”

  “Sure.” Christa ducked into the dining room, plates in hand, as Adam pushed away from the table.

  “Want to go see how Ryan’s doing?”

  Jenna nodded and followed Adam out, wondering how badly her son’s new bike would set her back. Her bank account wasn’t too healthy to begin with, but when she was with Adam, practical concerns like money seemed to take on less importance. He’d looked so handsome seated at the table in a denim shirt and jeans, talking and laughing with Gram. The rumble of his voice, the smell of his aftershave and the steadiness of his regard had combined to leave her feeling warm and ready.

  Ready for what, Jenna wasn’t willing to contemplate.

  From the porch she could see Ryan pedaling a shiny new bicycle and smiled at his happy shouts. “Look, Mom!” he called and rode up onto the lawn before heading down the opposite side and over a curb.

  Jenna held her breath until he made it safely down, then gave Adam a sideways glance, only to find him watching her again. “That looks like a pretty expensive bike.”

  He shrugged. “Cheap components aren’t any good for mountain biking. When you get into mud and water, the gears don’t work right. It can be dangerous.”

  “But I don’t have the money to pay you back for something like that, and it’s too expensive to accept as a gift.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t give it to you.” He moved as close to her as he could without actually touching and leaned against the porch railing.

  Able to feel the heat of his body, even through the fabric of her jacket and shirt, Jenna retreated. “I’ll pay you back. When summer comes, the tourists will—”

  “Jenna, it’s just a bike, for Ryan. It was my idea. I chose to buy it. You don’t owe me anything.”

  Ryan squealed as he went over the curb again.

  “Well…thanks,” she said. “I’d better get to work.” With a final wave to Ryan, she hurried inside.

  Adam was different this week, she mused, nervously straightening her jacket. It seemed her refusal last Saturday night hadn’t discouraged him. There was no longer any hesitancy in his eyes or his manner. He was pursuing her, cornering her, hoping to conquer, and he was using every weapon at his disposal, all his charm and sex appeal, until Jenna didn’t know how most women could withstand him.

  Good thing she wasn’t most women. She’d been down that road before and didn’t like the bumps.

  “WHAT YOU IN FOR?” Dennis asked his cell mate. He was long past the point of wanting to keep to himself. The seven days he’d spent inside the beige walls of the county jail had seemed like seven months of living detached from the rest of the world. It amounted to a lot of time to think—and to dry out. He wondered if any of his family had tried to contact him, whether they had any idea where he was, and decided they probably didn’t. He’d been on so many binges in the past year they’d never consider looking for him, not even when they hadn’t heard from him for several weeks.

  His cell mate, a big hairy guy with tattoos covering most of his arms, didn’t answer at first. He heaved himself off his cot to take a piss, then ambled to the front of the cell to grip the bars and gaze down the empty hallway. “Assault and battery,” he said finally.

  “Someone you know?”

  “Just a bar fight.” With a sigh he moved back to his cot and lay down, propping his great arms beneath his head. “What’s your story?”

  What did he say? That not long ago he’d had a home, a family, two cars and a decent job? That now he had shit? He remembered the good times with Jenna, before all the moving and fighting and confusion. The years when he’d come home to hot meals, Ryan’s exuberance over life’s simple pleasures and Jenna, loving, beautiful…He winced at his loss. “Unpaid speeding ticket,” he said.

  A laugh rumbled from the man’s barrel chest. “Yeah, right.”

  “What are you going to do when you get out?” Dennis asked.

  “I’ll hit the road again, catch up with my buddies. I live on my bike, man, just going from town to town. It’s freedom in its purest form.”

  Drifting didn’t sound like freedom to Dennis. It sounded as lonely as his own prospects. God, what had happened to his life? He thought of the rage he’d fe
lt toward Jenna over the past few months and suddenly wondered why—why had he chased her away from him? She’d been the best thing he’d ever had. He’d counted his blessings when Adam walked out on her and he’d been smart enough to step into the gap. But once alcohol caught hold of him…

  He eyed his bearded cell mate again. Unless he wanted a similar future, he had to pull himself together. Get rid of the booze. Get Jenna back. He could never rebuild his life without her. She’d always been the strong one.

  But how? He had nothing to offer, nothing resembling what Adam could give her. Still, she’d been his wife for thirteen years and had come back to him at least half-a-dozen times. If only he could convince her that he was going clean and sober this time. That spending time in jail had changed him for good. That he was ready to be the dad Ryan deserved.

  That was the key, wasn’t it? If only you knew how important a father is to a child… After what had happened with her own father, Jenna had always been determined to keep their marriage intact, for Ryan’s sake.

  Dennis smiled as the fear and tension he’d felt during his withdrawal from booze eased for the first time. He’d been ranting and raving and wanting to kill Jenna for leaving him when he already had what it took to get her back.

  THE MOON SHIMMERED on the sea, illuminating white foaming waves that splashed up to fling droplets of water in Jenna’s face and dampen her clothes. Cold air nipped at her ears and cheeks and fingers until they were nearly numb, but she didn’t care. She stood on the farthest rock from the beach she could find and welcomed the embrace of the wind, the sounds of the ocean.

  After she’d finished work, she’d found Adam and Ryan curled up together on the sofa, asleep, the movie they’d been watching still playing on the VCR. For a moment she’d tried to figure out how to lift her son and get him to bed without waking Adam, but had finally decided there was no reason to disturb either of them. She knew that Ryan couldn’t be safer or more comfortable than he was snuggled against Adam’s body. So she’d gone out to walk on the beach.

  Feeling a twinge of jealousy that she tried to suppress, Jenna anchored her hair behind her ears. She had to protect herself. She’d been through enough already. A wise woman took control of her life and didn’t simply hang on for the ride—not when she had a child to think about.