“Cool.” Ria swept up a mitt and ball, and Tiger did the same. They raced to the door, forgetting the rules about running in their grandparents’ house. To Ryan’s complete and utter shock, his father took a large mitt from the bottom of the box and went after them. In less than a minute, he was lobbing a ball in Ria’s direction. She caught each one and threw them right back with uncanny accuracy. Ria was good at any sport she tried. On the other hand, Tiger dropped most of the balls tossed his way, despite how often Ria practiced mercilessly with him at home.
“Look at that,” Willard said, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Ryan stared at him. This was a Willard he didn’t know. “You never liked to play,” he said, half accusing.
“Dad never wanted to. He only liked to watch.”
There was a silence for a long moment as Ryan considered the implications. He’d always thought his brother had been as caught up in watching sports as his father. Had he done that only to be close to him?
“Uh, boys.” Their mother cleared her throat gently. “Some, uh, friends of your father’s and mine are coming over for a short visit.” She eyed her watch nervously and added, “In about ten minutes or so.”
Willard nodded, but Ryan was immediately suspicious. “Friends? What friends?”
“Just a couple Sterling did work for a few years back. We go out with them sometimes. In fact, they have a lovely daughter about your age—well, maybe some years younger—and I believe she’s bringing a friend tonight.” She glanced pointedly at Willard, who suddenly sat up, looking more interested.
“I don’t want to meet any young girls,” Ryan said.
“I don’t think she’s that young.”
Ryan should have known. Within six months of Laurie’s death, his parents had come up with an abundance of suitable women for him to date. Unfortunately, not only were they barely out of their teens but they were from upper-class families who weren’t excited about adding a lowly government employee to the family, especially when he showed no interest in their fathers’ varied businesses. Ryan had found the women nice, sweet, and smart but not really interesting. There was so much they hadn’t experienced! They had not yet formed opinions, desires, goals, or even really their personalities. They were too willing to agree with anything he said, making him feel more like a father than a date. He knew that most single men would jump at the chance of a young, beautiful wife they could mold into their lives, but Ryan hadn’t been able to see any of them as Ria’s mother. Tiger’s, yes; he’d still been so young. But Ria needed more. Ryan needed more. For no reason at all he thought of Kerrianne, of her expression when she’d told him about her husband’s death. Of how she twisted her wedding ring on her finger.
He didn’t wear his ring anymore and hadn’t since Laurie’s death; that had been the agreement he’d made with her. She’d wanted him to take it off when she died. Before her death, he’d often removed it when he worked around the house, forgetting to wear it for days, but when it came down to taking it off for the rest of his life, he’d taken two months to work up the courage. Finally placing it in a box of her things had been almost as hard as burying her.
“Never mind him, Mom,” Willard said. “I’m interested. I haven’t been meeting any women in New York.”
“You’re still married, aren’t you?” Ryan couldn’t help asking.
“Actually, no. My divorce went through last week.”
Ryan felt a stab of remorse. Cindy had been the one bright spot left in family gatherings, and he’d retained a secret hope that his brother would see the light once she’d gone and work to get her back.
“These girls are nice,” Elizabeth said. “You boys both should give them a chance.”
“But I already met a woman,” Ryan said, surprising even himself.
His mother’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
“She’s a widow on my route, very nice. Has three children.”
“How long have you known her?” There was no emotion in the words, but his mother’s pursed lips weren’t exactly a good sign. Willard just shook his head.
Ryan shrugged. “A long time. But I didn’t know she was a widow until recently. She was at my play last night.” His word choice seemed to indicate that they were together. The mistake was unintentional, but Ryan didn’t feel the need to explain further.
“Three children, Ryan?” Elizabeth asked. “Isn’t that a lot to take on?”
Ah, so that’s her problem. All the women his parents had introduced to him had never been married and certainly had no children. Aloud he said, “Seem like nice kids. We play ball.”
He was saved further questioning by the doorbell—a fortunate occurrence because he had no idea what to say next without making something up. As his mother went to answer, Ryan settled back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and stared outside through the glass, where the light was already beginning to fade. His father was smiling. Ria had backed up to the end of the yard, and she was still catching balls. Tiger was kicking a basketball around the yard; soccer hadn’t been popular in Ryan’s day, so he’d never owned a soccer ball.
In spite of everything, Ryan found himself eager to meet the women his mother talked about. Maybe one of them was the one he was looking for.
“Oh, my parents should be here any minute,” came a voice through the door. “MaryAnn and I drove up from Salt Lake ourselves. We share an apartment there.”
“I see.” Elizabeth led the way into the green room. “Well, boys, I want you to meet—Colleen Dempsey and MaryAnn . . .”
“Turner,” the girl supplied.
Ryan stood up to offer his hand. After an instant’s delay, Willard followed suit.
Colleen was a shapely girl with beautiful long brown hair and eyes like a doe. Her makeup was heavily but artfully applied, making her face almost perfect except for a slightly wide nose. She was obviously the kind of girl that made men look twice. MaryAnn was less stunning with short brown hair and a slender build, but her pale blue eyes were lively and intelligent and her face more delicate. Both looked about twenty-five, which would make them nearly a decade younger than Ryan. A few years more than that for Willard. Right up his alley, Ryan thought unkindly.
Colleen immediately took center stage, telling all about her job as a secretary to some representative or other. He knew she had to be smart to hold such a job, but everything about her was superficial. No wonder Willard was immediately attracted to her. Unfortunately, Colleen didn’t often look in his direction. Ryan felt a little sorry for his brother, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time. After all Willard must be lonely now that Cindy was gone, despite his infidelities. He didn’t even have children to keep him company.
MaryAnn said little, except to confirm that she worked as a loan underwriter. Ryan got the sense that she was shy and a little embarrassed to be there. Every now and then, she met his eyes and glanced away.
“And so when I got the third call from this same woman,” Colleen was saying, “demanding to speak with him immediately, I told her that I was the representative and please tell me the problem. And she did.”
“She didn’t notice that you were a woman?” Willard asked.
“Apparently not.” Colleen gave an exaggerated shrug.
“And did you solve her problem?” MaryAnn asked.
“Lands, no! I don’t even remember what it was. Besides, if she didn’t know whether her representative was male or female, she likely didn’t know enough of whatever issue it was to even talk to me!” She gave a derisive laugh, which Willard copied. The two seemed to be a match made in heaven.
Colleen apparently didn’t think so. “So what do you do?” she asked Ryan, her face and posture inviting.
“I work for the post office.”
“I see.” She obviously didn’t.
“It’s a good job,” Ryan said only to make polite conversation. “Keeps me fit, and on most days I can get home by four to be with my kids.” He gestur
ed out the window at Ria and Tiger.
Neither girl acted surprised or asked about his wife. His mother must have sent the word ahead.
“I’m an attorney in New York,” Willard said to no one in particular. “But I’m considering moving back here to Utah. There’s nothing really holding me there.”
Ryan wasn’t surprised to see Colleen finally focus her attention on Willard. Had she previously thought Willard was the mailman with the kids and Ryan the hotshot lawyer? Well, it made no difference. He’d never ask her out anyway. Unlike Willard, he had other people to think about. Colleen wouldn’t be good for Ria. MaryAnn, maybe—under other circumstances that didn’t involve his parents—but she was still very young. Why did he suddenly feel so old?
He stood abruptly, a plastic smile on his lips. “Well, it’s been fun, but I’d better get home. I need to be at work early, and we’ve a long drive ahead.” Mondays were always the worst days at the post office. After no delivery on Sunday, the mail stacked up. On some Mondays he was lucky to make it home by five or six, even when he hurried. Without waiting for a response, he strode to the far door, opened it, and stepped outside.
“Ria, Tiger, we’re going.”
“Aw, Dad,” Ria whined.
Tiger hurried over to Ryan eagerly, his face red from the cold.
“I’m getting a little winded anyway,” Sterling said.
Ria looked disappointed but obeyed. “Grandpa’s pretty cool,” she told Ryan. “I never knew he could throw a ball.”
“Neither did I.” His whole family was full of surprises today. At least his father’s surprise had been welcome.
“Can we keep the mitts?” Ria asked.
“I think so. Go ask Grandma.”
As the kids disappeared inside, his father came toward him, ball in hand. “Wait a minute, son,” he said as Ryan reached for the doorknob.
Ryan dropped his hand. He felt cold from the collar of his white dress shirt to the tips of his toes. His heart was a block of ice.
“That Ria,” Sterling continued, “she’s really got a good arm, doesn’t she?”
“Always has. Frankly, I’m surprised you noticed.” Ryan knew he should keep his mouth shut, but it was hard to behave himself when he was around his father.
“I notice a lot of stuff.”
“Oh?” Ryan let a challenge creep into his voice.
Sterling didn’t take the bait. “I see you met the girl your mother brought around.” He nodded through the glass toward Colleen, which told Ryan he had met her before.
“Yeah.”
“Pretty, huh?”
“Beautiful.”
Sterling nodded, a small smile coming to his mouth. “I thought you would like her. Hair reminds me of Laurie’s.”
“Laurie’s hair was black, not brown.” A lovely shining raven black that reflected the light as he held it between his fingers.
His father gave an impatient shake of his head. “I want you to seriously consider this girl.”
“Why?” Ryan didn’t have anything against Colleen, except that he didn’t like her, but he wanted an explanation.
“Because your children dress like urchins, their manners are atrocious, and you need a wife.”
“All that may be true, but I think I’m perfectly capable of finding someone on my own.”
“Well, so far you’ve done a poor job of it. Look at you. With all your talents and abilities, and you’re out putting letters in boxes.”
“I like my job,” Ryan said through gritted teeth. “I like my co-workers. They’re good, hard-working people. And contrary to what you keep implying, I can support my family there. When I’m ready, there are administrative positions I can apply for. But right now I need to work certain hours. I need to be with my kids.”
“What you need is ambition—like Willard.” His father matched his angry tone.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’m supposed to look up to Willard? I’m sorry if I don’t care about his success as a lawyer. What does that mean in the end? I would never treat a woman the way he treated Cindy, and certainly not my own wife. I adored her, and Willard should have adored Cindy. When he lost her, he lost everything, in my opinion.” It hurt Ryan deeply that Willard had carelessly thrown away a precious relationship like the one that had been stolen from Ryan.
“He’s a good provider.”
Anger chipped away at the ice in Ryan’s heart. “My children have food, they have clothes, and more important, I spend time with them every night. They know I love them.”
The implication was clear, but would his father ignore it as he always had? Ryan held up his chin a bit more firmly.
“I’ve always loved you, son,” Sterling said. “I may not have shown it, but I’ve always loved you.”
Then let me be who I am! Ryan agonized silently. I can’t be Willard. I can’t be Sterling Jr. I can only be Ryan. Just accept me as I am. Why couldn’t he say it aloud?
“Thank you for playing ball with Ria,” he said instead. “She really had a good time.” Leaving his father outside, Ryan went back in to say his farewells.
Chapter Six
On Monday morning there was a strange conflict within Kerrianne as she debated whether or not to go out and get the mail as always. The attraction she’d experienced for Ryan made her feel she was betraying Adam, and yet over the past years the mail had been such a stabilizing part of her life that she was reluctant to let it go. What if Ryan hadn’t been so faithful and early over the years? What if there had been nothing to get her out of bed?
She dressed carefully—or tried to. Her sweats were out of the question, and her black pants too dressy for a Monday morning. She had to settle for her jeans that had to be held up with an old belt she hadn’t used since before the children were born. She found a brown fitted top that was almost as ancient, but at least it didn’t droop on her.
I’ll just wait until he goes by, she thought as she made breakfast for the children. And then run out and get the mail.
“Mom!” Misty wailed from the top of the stairs. “I can’t find my tan jeans. I wanted to wear them with the top that you got for my birthday.”
“They’re in the dryer,” Kerrianne called. “They’ll be a little wrinkled, but after an hour or so of wearing them, they’ll straighten out. Then eat. I made oatmeal with raisins.”
Misty appeared in the kitchen doorway, still wearing her pajama bottoms. “Can’t I have regular cereal?”
“Sorry, all out. Better hurry before the boys eat it all.”
Misty sighed loudly and plodded down the hall to get her jeans.
Kerrianne went into her living room and peered out the window into the gray-looking streets. Lots of clouds blowing in from the north, but no mail truck yet. She pulled away from the blinds and went to gather the backpacks.
The mail still hadn’t arrived by the time Misty and Benjamin ran down the street to catch the school bus that had lumbered to a stop at the house on the other side of Maxine’s. Kerrianne and Caleb stood on the porch and watched them climb inside. As the bus passed the house, Benjamin waved, and Kerrianne touched a hand to her mouth in their signal for “I love you.” He waved again and was gone.
“Can I watch cartoons?” Caleb asked. He was holding his blue ball in the hopes of playing with Ryan but was already shivering.
“Sure.” Kerrianne went inside with him.
When she peeked out her blinds a few minutes later, the mail truck was at her box. I’m not going out while he’s still there, she thought. A part of her resented the fact that she’d met Ryan in a somewhat social situation and had been attracted enough that she was now self-conscious and worried about facing him again. Why should I care what he thinks?
She saw him put the mail in her box and then hesitate, looking up at the house. Before Kerrianne registered what she was doing, she’d slipped on old sandals and opened the door. Keep walking, she told herself. Don’t look unnatural. She’d been going out to get the mail for four years, barely noticing
the mailman’s passing. Most days, he was onto the next box before she would even have to acknowledge him with a smile or a nod. Today was different.
He saw her coming. His smile warmed her bare arms, cold from the chill November morning. The truck rolled forward, and Kerrianne felt the sharp sting of disappointment. He was leaving like he had every other morning, as though they hadn’t spoken so personally about their spouses or felt any connection. Then again, maybe he hadn’t felt anything. She could have entirely imagined his appreciative stare Saturday night.
“Wait!” she called, sprinting down the crisp grass, her face flushing at how ungraceful she must look. “Uh, hi,” she said, coming to a quick stop on the sidewalk.
He gave her a wide smile. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing. Uh . . .” She trailed off, feeling uncertain. Why had she stopped him? Surely she’d had some reason—she wasn’t that far gone from sanity. She glanced back at the house, trying to remember.
“You have to get your kids ready for school?” he guessed.
“No, the older two are gone on the bus already.”
“That’s right, it’s Monday. We had a lot of mail to sort this morning. Did you want to tell me something?”
“Uh, well, I . . .”
“Is it about the play?” He looked at her worriedly.
“No.” She took a deep breath as her thoughts finally collected. “You may not remember, but that summer before . . . before my husband died, I was pregnant. I was out here a lot working on the yard in the early morning when it wasn’t so hot.”
His blue eyes quietly regarded her. “I remember,” he said. “My wife was pregnant at the same time. She was so uncomfortable, and I remember feeling sorry for both of you and any other expectant mother I saw. She had Tiger in July.” An expression of pain crossed his face, and Kerrianne wondered if it was around then that they learned of his wife’s cancer.
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