by Sherry Lewis
“It’s a little difficult to put someone out of your mind after fifteen years of marriage,” he argued.
“Just as it’s easy to continue blaming her for what’s wrong in your life. Tell me when you tried to call Tracy last.”
He scowled, wishing he’d gone to Milago’s after all. He hadn’t expected to be grilled about his life. “Two days ago. She wasn’t home.”
His mother wiped her hands on her apron and faced him squarely. “Maybe not, but she misses hearing from you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I talk to her every Sunday, and she tells me.”
“Maybe I should try calling on Sundays, then.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I’m always so tired on Sundays, and I want to be upbeat when I talk to her.”
His mother shook her head sadly. “You keep yourself too busy. Just like your father.”
He didn’t like that comparison, and he certainly didn’t think it was justified, but chose not to discuss it. “Mom, you just don’t understand about Tracy. You’ve never had to live apart from your children.”
“It’s true I’ve never been through divorce. But together or separated, blaming the other person for your unhappiness is always a great temptation. And allowing your own selfishness to keep you from your daughter…” She sent him a look full of reproach.
It knocked some of the wind out of Gabe’s sails. “If I lived closer—”
“If you lived closer. If Helene hadn’t moved.” She bent to check the roast in the oven. “There’s always an if for you, Gabriel.”
He felt as if she’d slapped him. Hard. “What do you want me to do, leave here and move to Oregon?”
“Of course not.” She closed the oven door again and met his gaze. “It’s time to stop blaming everyone else and start looking inside. You choose to be unhappy.”
“That’s not true,” he protested, even though some where deep in his core, he recognized the truth in what she said. He didn’t like it, but he recognized it.
“When you were a little boy, you used to watch your father go to work before sunlight and come home again long after supper. He was here every night, but he wasn’t a part of what went on with us. Do you remember?”
He raked his fingers through his hair and paced to the window. “Yes.”
“You were always disappointed when he didn’t go to your baseball games. Or when he didn’t have time to watch you ride your bike after Uncle Mike taught you to ride it.”
He nodded his head slowly. “I remember. I guess I knew he was busy.”
“Yes,” she said softly, coming to stand behind him. “But did you also know he cared deeply about you and Rosalie? And about me? Do you know that he adores the grandchildren? No one is more sad about Tracy living so far away than your father.”
“He doesn’t show it.”
“He does in his own way.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Your father is doing the best he knows how to do, but you know better.”
Gabe paced away from the window, rubbing his face as he walked. “All my life, I swore I wouldn’t be like him.”
She studied him for a long moment before she spoke again. “Not all of his qualities are bad. You also share some of his best ones. His work ethic and his ambition.” She smiled gently. “And that stubborn Malone pride that won’t let him admit he’s getting older.”
Surprised, he turned to face her again. “He is getting older, Mom.”
“Yes, and so am I.”
“I’m worried about him.”
His mother’s eyes darkened. “I know. He doesn’t tell me everything, but I can tell when you two have argued over something at work.” She lapsed into silence for a moment. “I’m glad you accepted his apology. Soon, he’ll have to admit he can’t run the business any longer and he’ll need you there when that day comes.”
Gabe leaned against the counter. “He doesn’t act as if he needs me.”
“Your father is afraid of showing what is truly inside him, just as you are. He’s afraid of losing you and the business. You—”
He shook his head vehemently.
She ignored him. “You don’t want to be unhappy again. You don’t want to be hurt. And yet you’re guaranteeing both by holding happiness at arm’s length.” She patted his cheek and tilted his chin until his gaze met hers. “You can tell me I’m wrong if you want to, but I’m not, and you know it. You’re running away as fast as you can from the things that could make you happy.”
He almost hated to ask. “Like what?”
“Like love.”
Gabe forced a laugh and lifted a carrot stick. “Maybe it’s skipped your attention, Mom, but I haven’t exactly been running away from women since the divorce.”
She scowled at him, and he felt all of ten years old again. “Dating casually and love aren’t the same things, Gabriel. You know that.”
She crossed to him and took his hands in hers. “You’re a sensitive man, Gabriel. You always have been. You have a huge heart that gets hurt easily—just like your father. Both so afraid of getting hurt, you lock the world out. Do you know why your father seems so cold?”
“Why?”
“Because the grandfather you never met, the one who started all this Malone nonsense, was a cold and brutal man. Compared to him, your father is a teddy bear.”
Gabe couldn’t help laughing.
“Your father chose not to be exactly like his father. You have the same choice.” Her lips curved into a teasing grin. “And you are lucky. You have me to help you.” She gripped his shoulders and turned him toward the door. “Now get out of here. Go into the living room and watch basketball with your father. I never could get anything done with you underfoot.”
Grinning, he snatched an olive from the relish tray and started from the room. But at the door he turned back and watched her for a moment. He looked at her once-dark hair, now almost completely gray. At the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. At the joints in her fingers that grew larger and more misshapen by the year. And he wondered if his dad knew how lucky he was to have found her.
Before he realized what was happening, he pictured Sharon standing beside her, laughing, talking, sharing secrets in a way that Helene had never been able to. He shook his head to rid himself of the image, but it wouldn’t leave.
His heart constricted and he suddenly understood what had been causing his nightmares. He wasn’t chasing his father’s job. He wanted Sharon. For real. Forever.
If he had half his dad’s intelligence, he’d find a way to break through her barriers. Half his stubbornness, he’d keep trying until he succeeded. Half his luck, she’d fall in love with him and stand beside him forever.
LATER THE FOLLOWING EVENING, Gabe pulled to a stop in front of Sharon’s house just as a strange car pulled out of the driveway. One of the girls—he couldn’t tell which—sat in the front seat with a boy. Hopefully, the other one would be gone, too. He wanted to talk with Sharon tonight. Alone. His mother’s words from last night were still with him, and another unsuccessful attempt to reach Tracy earlier this evening had left him more determined than ever to get his life on track.
He cut the engine, pocketed his keys and hefted his toolbox. The sight of the open garage door brought a smile to his lips. He knocked, waited for several minutes with mounting anxiety and raised his hand to knock a second time. But before he could, the door opened a crack and one of Sharon’s eyes met his through the narrow opening.
The eye widened for an instant, then clouded. “Gabe.”
He didn’t like that at all. “Is this a bad time?”
Shaking her head, she opened the door slowly until she stood in front of him in her bathrobe. She’d pulled her hair on top of her head with a clip, but tendrils had escaped, sweeping against her shoulders.
Gabe couldn’t help staring at her. She was beautiful even in a bathrobe.
“No,” she said quickly. “I…I was expecting some one else.”
Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away. “Derry had an accident two nights ago. He’s in the hospital.”
“Is he all right?”
“He will be. I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be finishing the job.”
A smile tweaked her lips and disappeared again. “I thought you’d quit working for your father.”
“I did,” he said with a shrug. “I changed my mind.”
She motioned for him to come in. “I’m sorry about the way I’m dressed. I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Like that?”
“I…” Her cheeks burned and she had trouble meeting his gaze. “I have a date tonight.”
A date? Who? When? How? This wasn’t how he’d planned their reunion. He tried consoling himself with the knowledge that it was probably Emilee and Christa’s doing, but it didn’t help. Sharon hadn’t shown any interest in any of the other guys they’d introduced her to. There must be something special about this one. With regret, he abandoned his plan to talk with her. If she’d found someone, he didn’t have the right to interfere.
He tried to look only mildly interested. “Someone new?”
“I’m having drinks with the uncle of one of Christa’s friends.” Her gaze dropped, then rose to meet his again before she turned around to lead him inside.
She stepped aside, as if she expected him to be able to move his feet. “I guess I should leave you a key. I should be home before you leave, but the girls will be out late. They’re both at the Valentine’s dance.”
“Actually—” The word came out scarcely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat, followed her through the door and tried again. “Actually, I’m only planning to stay a couple of hours. I’ll be glad to lock up when I leave.” To his relief, his voice came out sounding almost normal.
“Great. I’ll get the key back again tomorrow.” She reached past him to press the button that would lower the garage door.
He nodded dumbly, resisting the urge to catch her arm and pull her into his embrace.
She moved into the kitchen and dug into her saddlebag of a purse, flashed a triumphant smile and held a key toward him. “Here. It will unlock the side door into the garage and the door you just came in.”
He tried to say something, but his voice caught in his throat and came out sounding like a growl.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my…date will be here in a few minutes.”
Remembering that her smile was for another man cooled him like a bucket of ice. He slipped the key into his pocket, shifted his toolbox to the other hand and turned toward the stairs. But the ringing of the front doorbell and Sharon’s soft cry of dismay stopped him in his tracks.
Her eyes widened and she shot a frantic glance at him. “That must be him. And look at me. I’m not even close to being ready.”
Gabe was torn between wanting to help her out of the situation and wanting to open the door and tell the guy to get lost.
“The girls are both out.” Sharon let out a resigned sigh and started for the door. “This is certainly going to make a great first impression.”
Gabe stepped in front of her. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get dressed. I’ll let him in—unless you’d rather answer the door yourself.”
“No.” She shook her head quickly and tugged the robe a bit closer. “No. That would be fine.” She pivoted away, then glanced at him from the bottom of the stairs. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He left the toolbox on the floor and waited for her to run up a couple of stairs, then crossed to the door and opened it.
The man who stood there made Gabe’s stomach knot. Hair slicked back, cheekbones chiseled and a set of straight white teeth that took up half his face as he smiled. Gabe knew immediately, beyond any doubt, that this guy was wrong for Sharon.
Just look at that suit. And the shoes. Gabe could have checked his reflection in them if he’d wanted to—which he didn’t.
The jerk’s smile faded and half of his teeth disappeared. He glanced into the house over Gabe’s shoulder and shifted his weight on his expensive loafers. “I think I have the wrong address.”
Gabe battled the temptation to keep his mouth shut and let him think so. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He’d figure it out soon enough and come back. Still, that didn’t mean he had to volunteer anything. “Who are you looking for?”
“Sharon Lawrence.” Ed took another peek into the house. “Is this the right address?”
“Yes.” Unfortunately. Gabe stepped aside and motioned for the man to come in. “She’s upstairs getting ready.”
Mr. Suave flashed another uncertain glance at him, but this one held a trace of curiosity. “Oh. I see.” He took a step inside and waited while Gabe closed the door on the cold night air, then held out a manicured hand. “Ed Dubois.”
Gabe shook the hand that had obviously never done a hard day’s work in its life. “Gabe Malone. I’m a friend of Sharon’s.” He pulled away from the handshake and motioned toward the couch. “Have a seat. She’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Ed inclined his head a fraction of an inch and took a couple of steps into the room. “Thanks.” He looked around slowly, assessing Sharon’s possessions. “So you’re a friend?”
Gabe trailed him, watching his every move and wondering what on earth Emilee and Christa were thinking. This guy was all wrong for their mother. Even Gabe could see that, and he barely knew her. He resisted the urge to exaggerate his relationship with Sharon. “A friend. I’m finishing her basement.”
Ed’s smile came back. “I see.” He settled himself on the couch and rested both arms on its back as if he owned the damn thing. “So you’re working for her.”
“I’m a general contractor,” Gabe informed him. “Malone Construction.” He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and dropped it onto the coffee table. Not that he wanted Ed’s business.
Ed didn’t even spare the card a glance. He relaxed a bit more and patted the back of the couch with one hand. “Have you known Sharon long?”
What did that have to do with anything? Whether Gabe had known her a day or a year made no difference. Besides, it was none of Ed’s business. “Long enough.”
Ed cocked an eyebrow. “I see. She’s a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, she is.”
“My nephew, Adam—do you know Adam?”
Gabe shook his head.
Ed’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, as if knowing Adam gave him a leg up in some contest. “Adam told me about her. Took me to meet her. And I figured why not, you know?”
Ed’s response made Gabe want to drag the jerk to his feet and shove him out the door again.
Before he could do anything, footsteps sounded on the stairs. An instant later, Sharon rounded the corner and came into view. She’d changed into a black dress that he was sure her daughters had chosen for her.
She looked spectacular. Too spectacular. Every instinct in his body told him to take her back up the stairs and tell her to change. But his traitorous feet refused to move.
When Ed caught a glimpse of her, his disagreeable face reddened. He stood quickly and closed the distance between them, taking one of her hands in both of his. “You look remarkable.”
Sharon smiled, a shy sort of smile that just made Gabe want to protect her from this guy even more. “Thank you.” She turned the smile on Gabe. “Thanks for letting Ed in.” She shifted her gaze again, away from Gabe and back to Ed. “I wasn’t quite ready when you rang the bell.”
The flush crept from Ed’s face into his ears. Gabe silently vowed to wipe the floor with him if he hurt Sharon, or if he got pushy or demanding.
She crossed to the closet and pulled a coat from a hanger. Ed took it from her, helped her on with it and brushed his too-smooth hands across her shoulders. She smiled a thank-you at him and turned another glance at Gabe. “I’m sorry to leave you alone like this.”
“No problem,” Gabe lied, then added loud enough to make sure Ed didn’t miss a word, “I have t
he key. I’ll lock up when I leave.”
A muscle in Ed’s jaw twitched. He put a possessive hand on Sharon’s back and guided her toward the door. “I thought we could start with drinks at this little place I know downtown. They serve dinner there, too.”
Drinks, Gabe thought. She only agreed to have drinks, not dinner. See? He was right. Ed had plans.
Gabe thought furiously, trying to find some way to warn Sharon, but his mind remained an obstinate blank even after she stepped out into the night and Ed pulled the door shut behind them.
A deep seed of logic told him he was being ridiculous. He couldn’t warn her. He didn’t have to warn her. She was an adult, not a child. She’d been married before. She knew the score. Besides, with her looks, she’d probably had to deal with more than one man like Ed over the years. But logic had no place in his thoughts. Not tonight.
“IT’S NO USE,” Christa moaned, tugging Emilee behind a screen of silk plants in the school gymnasium. “We’ve tried everything.”
Emilee sent her a dark look, but she kept her voice low. Already, couples filled the room, and she didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing their conversation. “Quit moaning and let’s think of something constructive. We don’t have much time. The guys will be back with the punch any minute.”
“Fine. Did you see that look on Mom’s face when we drove past her and Adam’s uncle outside the restaurant?”
“I’m discouraged, too,” Emilee whispered. “But I’m not about to give up. It hasn’t even been two months.”
Christa pulled a tube of lip gloss from her pocket and waited while a couple strolled past. “Okay, Ms. Know-it-all,” she whispered back. “What do you have in mind?”
Emilee wished she had something in mind. “There has to be someone out there Mom will like.”
“Well, if there is, we’re not going to find him.”
Emilee scowled a little deeper. “Acting like this isn’t helping, you know.”
“What do you expect me to do? Mom didn’t like Steve’s dad. She didn’t like Brett or Mr. Taylor or Matt’s dad. And it sure didn’t look like she was bowled over by Adam’s uncle.”
