by Jamie Beck
“Thanks.” Gentry patiently showed Ty how to manipulate the wand to create the enormous bubbles that glistened with misshapen rainbows. Once he got the hang of it, she picked up her camera and shot photos from every angle.
Sunlight filtered through the trees while Ian jostled Colt on his lap and continued snacking on his lunch. In the distance, a pair of sixty-something women was walking toward them on the nearby path. As they passed by, the chubbier lady waved at them, exclaiming, “You have a beautiful family.”
“Thank you!” Gentry hollered back without correcting them, her face lit up with a giant smile.
Funny how five words altered everything.
Minutes earlier, Ian was simply helping Gentry create memories for son, her nephew, and herself. Now the ten-pound weight on his lap felt like more than just his charge. Gentry’s easy laugh and Ty’s curious face also took on a different—if illusory—meaning. For those few seconds, Ian imagined himself a father, a husband, an uncle.
It didn’t feel quite right, but it didn’t feel all wrong, either.
Gentry broke his train of thought when she ran through Ty’s large bubble while singing out, “Ta-da!”
Ty’s dimples deepened as he struggled with the wand to make another.
“Why didn’t you correct her?” Ian finally asked.
Gentry shrugged. “I liked being a family, even if it only lasted four seconds.”
She turned away, redirecting her attention to Ty.
A study in contradiction, this woman whose only consistent behavior was an attempt to build a family for her son, even as she held her mother at bay.
Colt fussed in his lap, so Ian nicked his finger across some frosting and stuck it in the baby’s mouth. Within three seconds, Colt’s mouth clamped around Ian’s index finger and sucked it dry.
For the past ninety minutes, Ian hadn’t once thought about his future, Haiti, or any of the other things that usually preoccupied him. He’d been swept up in the idyll of a summer day, happy kids, and a beautiful woman.
Now, with Colt snuggling against him, he knew a moment of panic. A few more weeks spent this way might make him soft. Leaving this baby would test his heart. And Gentry—saying goodbye to her and the different kind of future she dangled before him—might mess with him the most.
Chapter Eight
Flutter
According to Merriam-Webster: a : to move with quick wavering or flapping motions; b : to vibrate in irregular spasms
According to me: my insides when Ian is close
Ian conveniently avoided Gentry’s gaze while helping buckle the kids into their seats. For a little while today, she’d thought he’d let himself relax. He’d even frolicked! Then she’d spooked him with that family remark. Like a groundhog, he’d burrowed underground.
Ian closed her car’s back door. “I’ll grab an Uber.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s five minutes out of my way, tops.” Okay, fifteen. But Gentry wanted to see the infamous Angel House and meet his mother. She could learn a thing or two about mothering from the woman who’d raised a man with so much compassion. “I’ve got a little time before Hunter and Sara expect Ty back home. Plus, I bet your mom would enjoy seeing him.”
Ian slunk into the passenger seat. “She probably would.”
Gentry rolled down all the windows and cranked up the radio, forcing all three passengers to listen to her not-too-awful rendition of Rachel Platten’s “A Better Place.” She hadn’t chosen the sweet love song, but her heart raced to match its peppy tempo. The lyrics sounded like they’d been ripped from her thoughts and, as such, pumped hope and happiness and a little sorrow into her chest.
Ian sat unnaturally still until he turned and stared out the side window. That only made Gentry want to sing louder, to do anything she could think of to provoke him into revealing something that proved maybe she wasn’t imagining the earlier signs of interest. Of desire. Of more than that, though, because, for her, Ian Crawford was the first man who could tempt her into thinking beyond a fling, even with that stick of his still making an occasional appearance.
He didn’t use her. He wasn’t phony or fickle. Ian’s past showed that he knew how to love and commit. He challenged and encouraged her, giving her confidence in her ability to mother Colt. And today, when those women thought Ian was her husband, well, that’d shot her daydreams to a whole new level.
She told herself that harmless fantasies were safe because Ian came with a built-in expiration date. His prior commitment wasn’t the same as rejection. Either way, she couldn’t have him pity her or think that she’d be pining away for him.
“I can help you raise money,” she blurted out, surprising them both.
“What?”
She couldn’t blame him for failing to follow her train of thought, which changed tracks so often even she had a hard time keeping up.
“We struck out with Colby, but maybe I could help set up a kick-ass crowdfunding page.”
“There might be restrictions on NGOs.”
“So I’ll figure that out. I could promote it on my blog. Do you have photos of the people and kids you’ve helped?”
“Not really. I used to take pictures in the beginning because I wanted to capture everything. Now I’m too focused on the work to think about that.” Ian rubbed his jaw while mulling over her plan, eyes bright with interest. “Crowdfunding, though. It’s not a bad idea.”
“How come every time I have a good idea, people act so surprised?” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Do I seem like an idiot?”
“You’re definitely not an idiot.” Ian took his phone out of his back pocket and started scrolling through his contacts. “I’ll shoot Archer an e-mail to see if he knows of any restrictions on crowdfunding.”
“Archer?”
“My dad’s doctor friend. The one who teaches me French.”
“I know who he is. Why would he know about crowdfunding?”
“He’s got more experience with NGOs and donors than I do. Until recently, I’d run around the world volunteering wherever needed. Archer’s stayed in Haiti. He knows all the players and can get quick answers.”
Although Gentry couldn’t imagine living under the conditions and with the risks Ian had described since they’d met, part of her envied the adventure of his unusual life. The contrast made her realize how empty her attempts—or misadventures—had been.
They pulled up to the curb in front of a rather unattractive, mustard-yellow, brick-and-siding split-level home on a quiet tree-lined street. “Did you grow up here?”
“No. My mom took this position after my father died.” Ian opened the door. He always avoided eye contact whenever his father came up. Gentry smelled a story there.
She squelched her questions for now. “Should I wait here?”
He finally met her gaze. “Yeah. Let me grab her.”
Gentry spent a second checking on Colt, who’d fallen asleep in the car seat, as had Ty. She walked around to the other side of the car to wake her nephew. Her shorts rode up her butt as she bent over to unbuckle him, causing her to tug at them with one hand while finger-fluffing Ty’s hair with the other, hoping to make a good impression on Ian’s mother.
“Ahem.” Ian cleared his throat from a few feet away.
Gentry turned around before he cleared the smirk off his face and his mother finished her head-to-toe assessment. The woman’s gaze lingered on Gentry’s ankle tattoo for a moment. Gentry knew Mrs. Crawford had probably seen it all, but she probably preferred her son to hang out with more wholesome women.
The older woman’s matronly face was surrounded by silver hair. Given Ian’s height and more angular features, he had to resemble his father, because his mom was round everywhere.
As an afterthought, Gentry stuck her hand out. “Hi, I’m Gentry Cabot. Sara’s sister-in-law.”
“Hi, Gentry. I’m Gloria.” Gloria’s gaze now darted between her son and Gentry. “Thank you for giving Ian a place to hang his hat w
hile he’s in town.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” Gentry admitted, blabbing, “I’ll be lost when he goes.”
Ian blinked at the sentiment. “You’ll be perfectly fine.”
“He thinks if he repeats that enough I’ll eventually believe him,” Gentry admitted to his mom, whose gaze studied her son. “The daily chaos before he showed up proves otherwise. But he’s got his plans, so I’ll have to manage on my own.”
“You won’t be on your own for long.” He caught her eye, then looked away. A hint that maybe Ian didn’t look forward to Smith taking his place. Too bad she couldn’t dig into all that right now.
“Being a single mom can be scary,” Gloria said. “But you look like you can handle it.”
Gentry had heard that kind of remark her whole life. At first it sounded like a compliment, but beneath the shiny top layer was the ugly stuff. The snap judgment. Gloria had taken one look at Gentry’s tattoos, snug clothes, and ring-free finger, and dubbed Gentry trashy, hard, or smutty. None of those labels were a compliment.
“I’ll do my best.” Gentry smiled, burying the pain of such dismissal. “Before I go, I thought you might like to say hello to Ty.” She stepped aside so Ty could exit the car.
Gloria crouched and opened her arms for a hug. “Oh my, Ty. Look at what a big boy you are now!”
Ty had never been demonstrative, and only recently had become affectionate with Sara and Hunter, so it didn’t surprise Gentry when he didn’t run into Gloria’s arms. It did surprise her when he took off for the house, calling out, “Mama.”
Gentry clutched her chest like she could somehow block the dagger those cries jabbed into her heart.
“Oh dear,” Gloria said. “He must associate the house with Pam.”
“Crap!” Gentry took off after Ty and scooped him up. He struggled, reaching over her shoulder.
“Mama’s not there, Ty. Let’s get you home to your mommy.” All she could think to do now was distract him, compounding one mistake with another. “How about another cupcake?”
She asked Ian to buckle him back in the car seat while she fished around the trunk for another cupcake. The icing had melted a bit, but the treat might keep him occupied long enough to let her get away from this place and those memories.
“It’s okay, Gentry.” Ian rubbed her arm.
Her body flushed with waves of heat as tears threatened to spill. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
After handing Ty the cupcake, she closed the door and faced Ian and his mom. “I’m so sorry. It never occurred to me that coming here could upset him. Sara’s gonna kill me.”
“Sara is a lovely woman. I’m sure she’ll understand,” Gloria said. Gentry’s gaffe had softened the woman’s condescension. In this case, Gentry would make an exception and accept her pity.
“We all make mistakes,” Ian assured her.
“Sara never makes mistakes!” Gentry kept running her hands over her hair as if that would get her out of the jam with Hunter. “I’d better go. Sorry to be rude. Nice to meet you, Gloria.” Gentry scooted around to the driver’s side with a quick wave.
At least the cupcake-palooza distracted Ty, who’d stopped calling for his mother. She’d have to remember to remove the icing from his cheeks before Sara and Hunter saw it.
In her rearview mirror, Gentry watched Ian and his mom pile into a run-down Honda. If she had to guess, they were on their way to a soup kitchen or something similar. Definitely not going to Pioneer Place for a shopping spree. She made a mental note to herself to be sure to expose Colt to both types of mother-son outings when he got older.
She arrived at Hunter’s ten minutes later, grabbed a fistful of baby wipes from Colt’s diaper bag, and cleaned Ty’s face and fingers. She kissed his head, eyes closed, thinking her hundredth silent apology. “Okay, let’s go see your mommy and daddy.”
She detached Colt’s car seat from its base and carried him to Hunter’s front door, with Ty in tow.
Sara greeted them and immediately crouched to hug her son. “Did you have the best time? I missed you!”
Ty accepted the hug before pushing away to run through the house, presumably on a hunt for his toys.
“Wow, he’s wired!” Sara stood with a puzzled expression. Shrugging, she then offered Colt her best smile while asking, “Is Ian in the car?”
“No.” Gentry couldn’t have this conversation on the porch. “Can I come in?”
“Of course. I want to hear all about your day with the boys.” Sara waved her inside. “Hunter’s in the kitchen.”
Gentry hadn’t spent much time here since those early weeks of pregnancy, when she’d moved in to escape her mom. Every time she remembered the adoption promise she’d broken, an uneasy feeling—like the one experienced when cresting the high point of a roller coaster—grabbed hold. After today’s incident, Gentry’s doubts about whether keeping Colt had been in his best interests soared. Hunter and Sara might be uptight and too structured, but they’d never be as thoughtless as she’d been today. What kind of emotional damage had Gentry caused Ty, and how might she hurt Colt in the coming years?
Gentry set Colt’s car seat on the island and kissed her brother hello. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice her clammy skin. The near-spotless kitchen smelled like sautéed onions. A quick glance at the plate beside the stove revealed a cheeseburger waiting for its topping.
She aimed for a joke. “You have the worst eating habits.”
“I’ve cut back.” He shrugged. “Ask Sara.”
“You have an interesting way of making things sound better than they are,” Sara teased, then cocked a brow at Gentry. “Sure, he’s cut back . . . a little. Now, here’s an important question. Can I cuddle Colt?”
“Sure.” If Sara had Colt in her arms, it’d be harder for her to strangle Gentry when she learned about Ty’s visit to the Angel House. She removed Colt from his car seat and handed him over, waiting until Sara seemed blissfully distracted. “So I have a confession.”
“Let me guess. You broke our rules.” Hunter lowered the wooden spoon, shaking his head and smiling as if he expected it. “Which one?”
He didn’t seem too upset, but only because he had no clue she’d gone beyond breaking his silly rules and done something truly stupid.
“I drove Ian to the Angel House with the kids in the car. I thought maybe Ty would like to see Gloria, but as soon as he did, it triggered memories of Pam.”
All the blood that drained from Sara’s face magically appeared in Hunter’s cheeks. “What’s the matter with you? You know I don’t even like Sara going there since that violent husband attacked her.”
“I’m sorry. I think of Ty as yours, so Pam never crossed my mind. I was stunned when he ran toward the house, calling out, ‘Mama.’”
Gentry closed her eyes to avoid seeing Sara’s face.
“For God’s sake, Gentry. When will you learn to think before you act?” Hunter banged the spoon on the side of the pan, all traces of humor erased.
“I’m sorry.” Her spine curved like a shrimp, and she looked at the ground.
“He seems okay now.” Sara put Colt back into his car seat, her voice slightly strained. “How’d you calm him down?”
Gentry closed her eyes again, mumbling, “I gave him a cupcake.”
She heard the spoon clatter in the stainless steel sink right before Hunter muttered in dismay, “How the hell can I trust you with our son when you show such poor judgment and disrespect our rules? He looks like you tried to drown him in muddy water, too.”
“I’m sorry. But we had fun, Hunter. We played by the lake with giant bubbles and squirt guns. I took some amazing photos of him and Colt. Wait until you see them.” She hugged herself. “I loved spending time with him. We had a perfect morning, and he was so happy, giggles spilled out of him.”
“Until confronted by memories of his dead mother, you mean?” Her brother spoke low enough not to be heard by his son, his owlish gaze tearing through her like claws. “Let’s just hope he
doesn’t have nightmares about Pam tonight.”
Ty was playing quietly in the family room by himself. He didn’t appear to be suffering. Did the memories of sitting beside Pam’s dead body for hours lurk in his memory? Would those be his nightmares?
Tears formed behind Gentry’s eyes. Even when she had the best intentions, she screwed up. At this rate, she might as well give up trying to be one big happy family. For every step forward, she stumbled ten steps backward.
“It was an honest mistake, Hunter. She obviously feels bad about it, so let’s not make it worse. That won’t help anyone.” Sara crossed to her husband and stroked his back. “I’ll take Ty upstairs and read to him. He needs a nap, anyway. No fighting while I’m gone.”
On her way out of the kitchen, Sara squeezed Gentry’s shoulder. After she disappeared, Gentry faced her brother.
“I’m sorry,” Gentry reiterated, her voice tight with desperation. “Really, really sorry.”
Hunter shoved his burger into his mouth. Perspiration dribbled down her spine during the endless seconds she waited for him to finish chewing. He sighed, his tone shifting from anger to frustration. “You’re a mom now, Gentry. You’ve got to start thinking like one.”
“I do.”
“Do you? Have you figured out Colt’s childcare? How will Colt feel when Ian disappears from his life? Last year you swore there’d be no way to find Smith. Now suddenly we’re hiring a PI. Seems to me like you still jump into decisions without considering the consequences.”
Being thrust on the defensive brought her armor up and, with it, her chin. “Hiring the PI is me thinking like a mom. Colt will want to know who his father is.”
“Colt’s your business. But when it comes to Ty, you’ve got to respect Sara’s and my wishes.” Hunter sighed, slapping the crumbs off his hands after he finished the burger—in record time, she thought. He set his plate in the sink, then surprised Gentry by slinging an arm over her shoulders. “We’ll let today’s slip-ups go since Ty seemed calm enough.”
