Now...she couldn’t let him toy with her. Except what could he possibly believe he’d gain by coaxing her into some kind of relationship? He had to know she wouldn’t be overcome enough to sign a document blindly, say, giving up parental rights. Even if she was that stupid, without her to hold him back, Craig would immediately sue for custody.
The hopeful thought sneaked into her head: maybe Nolan really was drawn to her.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Dana felt weightless for an instant. If she could have one miracle, what was to say she couldn’t have two?
Because one in a lifetime was more than most people had? Reality brought her down hard.
Probably all Nolan intended was to distract her from noticing how little she’d seen her son. Convincing her he sympathized so she wouldn’t push.
Unfortunately, that made a whole lot more sense.
Heaviness settled in her chest as she picked up the paper, a weekly, appropriately named The Lookout. She’d grabbed last week’s edition at the grocery store, then decided to subscribe. The focus was entirely on very local news, from high school baseball scores to students who’d received scholarships and what colleges they would attend. Now she read about a fund-raiser for the family of a woman in a coma in intensive care who had been hit by a car. Another car accident, this one involving two teenagers, one from Lookout, the other from The Dalles. Experts commented on laws involving young drivers. She reached the middle of the paper, where her eye was caught by a calendar of upcoming school events. Most were at the high school or middle school. But there—
Sixth-grade open house, celebrating family, to be held Monday night. Lookout had two elementary schools, but this was Christian’s. Student projects, it said. Public welcome.
Dana read the single line over and over. What did that mean, student projects? Something they were showing off? If so, Christian had no interest in her seeing whatever it was he’d done. Because he wasn’t celebrating his biological family.
Of course his project had to do with the Gregors. Otherwise, he would have talked to her about it. Otherwise, he’d have had to admit to teacher and friends the whole sorry tale. He might have had to acknowledge her.
Nolan, who had just left, hadn’t so much as mentioned the open house. Christian’s choice hurt. Nolan’s part in this enraged her. So now she knew. If she heard about the open house, she was meant to remember his sympathy, his promise to advocate for her, his friendliness, his kiss. And stay home.
Hands cold, Dana folded the paper so that the school events schedule showed and left it on the table.
She’d have to think about this.
* * *
“HEY.” NOLAN RESTED a hand on Christian’s shoulder as they walked across the parking lot, joining a stream of other parents and kids entering the school. “Don’t worry. You did a great job on your project.”
“I don’t know. Wait’ll you see Ryan’s. His great-grandfather smuggled Jews out of Denmark during World War II.”
Nolan chuckled. “Fair enough. I can’t top that. But, you know, your grade depends on the quality of your presentation and research, not on how awesome your ancestor was.”
“His is cool. I bet he gets an A.” He grinned. “Bet I do, too.”
“I like confidence.” Nolan gave a last squeeze before letting his hand drop from the boy’s shoulder. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid.
He hoped Christian didn’t guess how dark his mood was. Dana would see tonight as a betrayal. When the assignment first came up, Nolan had suggested Christian use the chance to explore the history of this new family. He’d met furious resistance. At the time, he’d been feeling a whole lot of resistance, too, so he hadn’t argued.
Now? He was still flattered that Christian had done his project about his army-ranger uncle who had spent years fighting terrorism. But Nolan also had a crawling sense of shame, because he hadn’t told Dana about this thing tonight or about the decision Christian made and why.
Chances were, she’d never hear about it. Why would she? And the hard truth was, acceptance had to come from Christian. Nolan couldn’t coerce it.
“There’s Jason!” Christian exclaimed, veering toward his best friend.
Following, Nolan greeted the parents, people he really liked. Jason’s father grinned. “I was excited about tonight. He pried his fingers off the game controls.”
Nolan laughed. “Tell me you aren’t letting him play the violent ones.” And Christian when he was there.
“Mature and Adults Only are banned,” Ben assured him. “Sooner or later, he’ll borrow ‘Halo’ or ‘Resident Evil’ from a friend and have the surprise of finding out that I meant it when I said I’d take the system away for a month with the first offense, three months for the second.”
“Forever for the third?”
“And do it with pleasure.” He gave Nolan a mock scowl. “You know you’re undermining my attempt to raise a pacifist son. He starts talking about how heroic spec ops soldiers are...”
“Heroic? A pretty word for an ugly business.” As the two chattering boys rushed ahead to join other friends, Nolan said, “You’ll let me know if Christian is the one to sneak a banned game in.”
“Oh, yeah.” They’d made it into the classroom, and Ben’s head turned as he took in the various projects, displayed either in poster form or using trifold setups resting on tables. “I’m impressed.”
“So am I.”
Christian dropped back to say, “Ryan’s is right here.”
He’d been right; Ryan had done a nice job, including some family photos and ones he’d printed from online articles or copied from books.
Nolan congratulated Ryan, part of Christian’s circle, and Ryan’s parents. Then he and Christian wandered, meeting up with more friends. Nolan was talking to the Aceros, whose son Tomás was another of Christian’s best buds, when by some sixth sense he glanced toward the classroom door. A woman had just entered.
He tensed in alarm. Oh, hell. This wasn’t going to be pretty. Crowding out the shame was a jolt of anger. What was she thinking? He’d just told her that Christian had yet to admit even to his closest friends that Marlee wasn’t really his mother. So what? Dana had decided to put him on the spot? She imagined she could force him to acknowledge her publicly?
“Excuse me,” Nolan said to Juanita Acero, and moved swiftly to separate Christian from the two boys he’d been hanging with. “Dana is here,” he murmured. “By the door.”
“What?” Christian whirled to see her. “Did you tell her?”
“No. One of her coworkers may have a kid your age. Or she saw the listing in the paper.”
“What should I do?” Christian asked, his panic obvious.
She’d seen them. For seconds that lasted too long, her eyes held Nolan’s. He saw pride, embarrassment and determination. Her body language was stiff. As he watched, she stepped aside to allow a group to pass her.
“I don’t know,” Nolan admitted.
All but vibrating with anxiety, Christian exclaimed, “I don’t want her here!”
“Should I try to head her off?”
“Yes!”
Nolan didn’t love being the bad guy, but his anger propelled him across the classroom.
Long before he reached her, she had turned away and begun checking out the student projects. She didn’t give them the time he had, but then, she didn’t know the kids who had created them, either.
In the crowded, noisy room, with students calling to each other, parents socializing and exclaiming over individual projects, she held herself aloof, as if she thought she were alone.
She was studying a poster about a covered-wagon journey, sketchily done, when Nolan reached her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low.
Dana didn’t even look at him. “I had th
e impression the public was invited.”
“You had to know how Christian would feel about you showing up.”
“It would appear,” she said, cool as a cucumber, “that I’ll only learn anything about his life by becoming an observer. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Sure it is,” he said grimly. “You thought he’d have to accept your presence, didn’t you? At least introduce you, even if he doesn’t say mom.” His anger spiked. “Or did you plan to introduce yourself? Chat with other parents, tell them how excited you are about your son’s project?”
She had moved on to the next poster, but now she went completely still. She was looking straight ahead, but Nolan doubted she saw what was right in front of her. He waited.
“No,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t do that to him.” She turned her head, letting him see eyes brimming with pain, color painting her cheeks. “I just...wanted to see. Give myself—” She stopped and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come. Tell him I’m sorry.” She whirled too suddenly, blundering into another woman. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “So sorry.” And was out the door.
Nolan went after her.
Late arrivals and people leaving made the hall too populated for him to say anything. She was the only person hurrying. Not quite running, but close. She’d have lost him if not for his long strides.
She was rushing across the parking lot when he caught up enough to call, “Dana.”
She hesitated between one step and the next, then kept going.
“Damn it, Dana!”
She reached her car, unlocking and wrenching open the door. Nolan made himself halt some ten feet from her. A quick glance told him there was nobody in the vicinity.
“What did you want to give yourself?” he asked her quietly.
He’d feared she was crying, but the face she turned to him was carved in marble. Only the turbulence in her eyes and the white-knuckled grip she had on the top of the car door betrayed any emotion.
“A memory,” she said. “That’s all I wanted.” Then she was in the car, slamming the door. While he stood frozen, she backed out and drove away.
Nolan watched her go, feeling like the scum of the earth. He knew suddenly that he hadn’t entirely let himself understand.
This was a woman who had missed everything. She’d never been able to hang finger paintings on the refrigerator or the Santa with a cotton-ball beard made in first grade. No Mother’s Day card drawn with stick figures and lopsided letters saying I LOVE YOU, MOMMY. No spelling tests with an “A—Excellent!” at the top. She had never seen a single school assignment or project her son had done.
She’d just wanted to see. And he hadn’t even let her get as far as Christian’s masterpiece lauding his “uncle” Nolan.
Nolan let his head drop back and looked up at the sky, starting to deepen toward twilight. He felt too much for a woman who’d lost everything. Tangled with it was a kind of panic, even desperation, because he knew he’d lost something tonight that he might not be able to get back.
That maybe he didn’t deserve to get back.
* * *
HER DOORBELL RANG an hour later. Dana ignored it. Then her phone rang. Nolan’s number. She muted it and ignored the buzz a minute later that told her he had left a message.
She shouldn’t have gone. She’d known she shouldn’t. Now she’d ruined everything.
Huddling on the sofa wrapped in a fleece throw, she felt her mouth twist. Just what was it she’d ruined? The warm, loving relationship she had been tentatively building with her child? Get real. There’d been nothing to ruin.
Right this minute, she wished she hadn’t moved. The decision had been so impulsive. She’d been willing to do anything, anything at all, to be near Gabriel. Now here she was, over a thousand miles from her friends and family. Entirely isolated.
Because I believed in Nolan Gregor’s sense of honor.
No, that wasn’t true. She’d made the decision before she called to discuss the move with him. She’d pretty well blackmailed him into agreeing to her deal. Maybe he’d been upholding his end; there was no way for her to know. He’d said himself, his first loyalty was to Christian.
Yes, but he’d also said—No, she thought sadly. He’d implied that he had mixed feelings. She’d snapped up the implication like a trout with a juicy fly.
Her phone rang again. This time the number was her brother’s, but she couldn’t talk to him without crying. He’d want to take the next flight so he could beat the crap out of Nolan. She relished the picture until she remembered how much bigger Nolan was.
Peter left a message, too.
Feeling so drained she staggered when she first stood up, Dana made her way to her bedroom, turning off lights as she went. She took a shower, staying under the hot water until it started to run tepid.
Just think, she had to go to work bright and early tomorrow. Back to planning the series of parenting talks. She laughed at the irony, the sound foreign to her ears.
Dana simply didn’t know where she would go from here. She was too tired, too hollowed out, to think reasonably. Oddly enough, she was sure she could sleep. She could close her eyes and fall into a deep, dark well. The idea held a lot of appeal.
Tomorrow...well, tomorrow was another day.
Me and Scarlett O’Hara.
She crawled into bed and turned out the light.
* * *
IT WAS THE longest goddamn day of work Nolan could remember, and that included some spent crouched for hour upon unending hour in the scant shade of barren rocks in hundred-and-ten-degree heat, weapon cradled in his arms, as he watched the entrance to a cave for the slightest movement.
He didn’t try to call again. Dana wouldn’t answer. This morning, a chastened Christian had said, “What if I call her?”
“From my phone?”
“Oh.” He looked down, letting hair fall over his forehead.
Time for a haircut, Nolan had thought absently.
Then Christian burst out, “Do you think she’ll go back to Colorado?”
Nolan let out a harsh breath, one expelled as forcefully as if he’d taken a blow, and said the same thing he had last night. “I don’t know.”
The boy’s brown eyes were wild. “I didn’t mean—”
Nolan made himself spend some time reassuring Christian, who had youth and one hell of a lot of tumult in his life to excuse him. Nolan’s best efforts hadn’t made Christian look any happier when he left for school, pushing his bike out of the garage.
The interminable day was also a profitable one, for a Tuesday. They’d been having a streak of sunshine, and people were cutting out of work to spend a day on the water. Standing knee-deep after helping some renters get moving, feeling the tug of current, Nolan couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a board out. Maybe that was what he needed. As always, he balked at the idea of paying someone to take his place while he had fun.
Fifteen minutes after school let out, Christian dumped his bike outside and hurried in, gaze going right to Nolan.
He shook his head. “Go on in back and do your homework.”
At five thirty the last rental was returned by a young couple whose sunburns had Nolan wincing. He’d warned them about the effect of the rays bouncing off the water, but because it was only mid-May and not the heat of summer, they apparently hadn’t believed him. He handed the woman a bottle of aloe-vera gel.
“This’ll help. It’s on the house.”
She smiled weakly. “Thank you.”
It took Nolan a few minutes to rinse off the boards, sails and harnesses and lay them out to dry. Then he rubbed a hand over his raspy jaw and let himself in the back door, where Christian hovered.
“Time to go home.”
“But...can’t we go see...her?”
“Dana?” Nolan sighed. “I’m not sure how welcome we’d be, Christian.”
The boy’s chin tilted stubbornly. “But...I have to say I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Could we take her a pizza or, I don’t know, burgers?”
Good idea or terrible? Who knew? “Why not?” he said with a shrug. “It’ll give us a dinner if she kicks us out.”
Burgers and fries, they decided, which required only a quick detour.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at Dana’s house. No way to tell if she was home, since Nolan assumed she parked in the garage.
They trudged in silence up to the small porch. Nolan held the bag of food; Christian rang the bell.
After what had to be a minute, the door opened. Dana stood there, wearing black leggings, knee-high black boots and a thigh-length white knit shirt, the fabric draping to emphasize every curve.
“Christian. Nolan.”
Christian appeared tongue-tied. Nolan cleared his throat. “We came to—”
“Hear my apology?” Her eyebrows arched. “I’m sorry. I intruded where I hadn’t been invited. I know how awkward that must have been for you. I really am sorry.”
Nolan frowned. “We’re the ones who owe you an apology.”
Her lips curved, but her eyes remained...blank. “You know that isn’t true. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
“We were hoping you’d share our dinner.” Nolan hoisted the bag.
“That’s kind of you, but I’m afraid I have other plans.” She produced another smile. “Enjoy your meal.”
The door was almost closed when Christian cried, “Wait!”
After a pause, she opened it partway again. “Yes?”
“It’s my fault!” he said passionately. “When my teacher assigned the project, I was still mad.” His throat worked. “Then...I couldn’t tell you. I just couldn’t,” he finished, his voice dying to a near whisper at the end.
“Christian,” Dana said softly, “I do understand. Like I told your uncle, all I wanted was to see your project. I thought I’d gone late enough that you two wouldn’t still be there. And I meant it when I said I shouldn’t have gone. Okay?”
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