Breaking off a bite-size piece of bread from her plate, Angela nodded, an unreadable expression crossing her face. “So spending time together—in terms of what you like to do—is fairly effortless already?”
“Absolutely. With Mark, it was a constant study in compromise from the very beginning. Though, in all fairness, the compromise only came after the arguments.”
“He wanted to hang out in bars all the time?” Angela asked, a knowing smile lifting her lips.
“Uh-huh.”
“And you went along with it for a while…tried to embrace that life because you thought you should?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And when you finally said something, he made a token effort only to slip back to his usual behavior?”
She felt her mouth gape open. “How’d you know that?”
Angela shrugged. “It’s the way it was with just about every guy I dated before Tom.” With a quick hand the copper-haired spitfire pushed the bread into her mouth. When she’d finished chewing, she continued on. “But, if I’m hearing you correctly, you’re not picking that up with Kyle. Right?”
“Not at all.”
“O-kay…so where’s the part that’s not effortless?”
Lifting her chin off her hand, she leaned back against the wire-mesh patio chair. “Everything else. My fear over his job, his concern that I’m going to up and walk out on him at the drop of a hat one day. And yesterday—” she exhaled a sigh of frustration “—I have no idea what went wrong there. One minute we’re playing hide-and-seek in the park and Callie and I are waiting for him to find us. When he finally shows up, he’s carrying an attitude that came out of nowhere. It’s too much.”
“Ahh.” Angela pushed her plate to the side and leaned forward. “You have no idea where the attitude came from?”
“No. He just showed up with a poorly veiled innuendo regarding my ability to stick around.”
“Your ability to stick around?”
As silly as it sounded out in the open, it was all she’d been able to come up with to explain the irrefutable shift in Kyle’s mood halfway through their outing with Callie. “One minute things are great and the next, he’s practically volunteering to help me pack my bags.”
For a moment Angela said nothing. She simply sat there, looking down at her hands. Finally, though, she spoke, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “If you knew a breakup was coming, don’t you think you’d find it less painful if you were part of the process rather than watching, blindsided, from the side of the road?”
“Of course. It’s what made me want to give up on any notion of a relationship with Kyle. If I cut it off, then it would be my own doing. If I lost him because of some horrible tragedy, well, it would just be harder. Because I’d be unprepared.”
“And you don’t think he feels the same way?”
The meaning behind Angela’s cryptic statement hit her full force. She and Callie had been talking about the book. “Oh, I get it now.”
And she did. He knew her stay in Cedar Creek was tied to her work. When the writing was done, there’d be nothing to keep her here.
“What matters, though, is that none of this is insurmountable.” Angela, too, leaned back in her seat, her fingers finding the stem of her wineglass and giving it a swirl. “It’s really just a matter of jumping a few hurdles. The kind of hurdles you’ll jump for the rest of your life for one reason or another. But as long as you know they’re there, and you do your best to jump them together, they won’t be such a big deal.”
She nodded, her mind registering Angela’s words and commanding them to memory. “How did you get to be so smart with all of this?”
Ang shrugged. “There are times when Tom carries me, and there are times when I carry him, but we listen to one another always. And we respect each other’s feelings above all else. It’s the only way.”
She met her friend’s gaze head-on. “A week ago, when I rented my place, I knew it was temporary.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know.” And she didn’t. “New York is my home. Or, at least it was.”
The left corner of Angela’s mouth lifted, followed by the right. “Was?”
“Was…is…I’m not sure. The way I feel for Kyle is enough to make me want to stay here forever. But—” she stared out into the distance as reality reared its head “—this constant push-pull? This feeling as if I’m being blamed for something I didn’t do? I can’t live like that…and I won’t.”
“SO WE’VE GOT NOTHING?” Kyle asked as his fist hit the locker. “C’mon, Jake gave a description of the guy, didn’t he?”
Tom dropped onto the bench at the end of the locker room. “He did. But, as of now, it hasn’t turned anything up yet. The key word is yet.”
“Are we waiting until one of these losers breaks into my mother’s home and takes off with my kid?”
“What the hell is with you, dude? There’s not a guy in this department who doesn’t have his ear to the ground for anything that might shed light on who these guys are. Guys are working extra hours, driving past your house at all hours of the day and night, driving their personal vehicles into the outskirts of town late at night. Why? Because we want this stopped as much as you do. For you and your kid.”
There was no denying the anger in Tom’s voice. It was an emotion his partner rarely exuded outside of football season. But it was there now, and it was more than a little justified.
Resting his forehead against the cool metal of his locker, he closed his eyes, willed the tension in his body to ease. “Look, I’m sorry. I was out of line just now.”
“You’re damn straight you were.” Tom pitched himself forward as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “It’s only a matter to of time, dude. We’ll get ’em.”
“I’m just worried. My daughter saw that graffiti.”
“But Betsy smoothed it over. It’s okay.”
Betsy.
Just the sound of her name made his heart race and his stomach churn. How could one person make you feel as high as a kite one moment and like dirt the next? “It’s not her job to smooth things over. It’s mine.”
“I get that. But be glad she was there.”
“At that moment, yes. But she won’t be for much longer.”
Tom stared at him. “What are you babbling about?”
Cocking his head against the locker, he stared up at the ceiling, the white stucco finish in desperate need of a paint job. “Betsy, who else?”
“I got that. What’s this about her not being around for much longer?”
His eyes fixed on a round water stain that appeared relatively new. “This isn’t her home, Tom. New York is. She’s only here so she can write her book.”
“And?”
“When her book is finished, she goes back.” Without waiting for a response, he continued on, his mouth finally putting words to the nagging thoughts that had kept him awake half the night. “I’ve already accepted the fact that I’m an idiot—that I seem to be a glutton for punishment.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “My choice in women. At first, when I heard what Betsy did for a living, I likened her to Lila and that was unfair. I realize that now. Betsy is more grounded, more real. But that doesn’t mean I’m blind. She’s a writer—a fairly popular one at that. And, unless I’m mistaken, New York is where it’s at for publishing, isn’t it? She’s not gonna give that up for me. Who would? Does it hurt? Hell, yeah. But I’m a big boy. Callie is just a little girl.”
“What does this have to do with Callie?”
“Sometimes I’m so wrapped up in my own world I forget that I’m not the only one who got hurt by Lila walking the way she did. That little girl lost her mother. Her mother, Tom.” He pulled his gaze from the ceiling and fixed it on his partner. “And what did I do? I served my daughter’s heart on a silver platter to a woman who doesn’t consider Cedar Creek her home any more than Lila did. I’m not sure I can forgive myself for that one.”
&
nbsp; “You lost me, dude.”
He tried again. “I should have known better as far as my heart was concerned. Hell, I do know better. But I ignored it and plowed ahead anyway, dragging Callie into my mistake by my own two hands.”
Tom’s left eyebrow rose, and then his right. “Wait, let me get this straight. You’ve decided Betsy is leaving when her book is done. And because she’s spent some time with Callie over the past week or so, you’ve decided your child will be forever damaged when she leaves?”
Listening to his thought process aloud made him squirm. “I think you’re oversimplifying things a bit, but, yeah.”
“I’m not oversimplifying. I’m just giving the Cliffs Notes version. I’m a master at encapsulating ten minutes into thirty seconds.” Tom rose to pace around the locker room. “Has Betsy said she’s leaving the second the book is done?”
He followed his friend around the room, watching with amusement as Tom opened lockers in search of superfluous snacks. “Not recently, but—”
“Then why are you so sure she’s leaving?” In the third locker he came to, Tom hit the jackpot with an open bag of individually wrapped chocolate squares. Popping one into his mouth, he peered over his shoulder at Kyle. “You don’t think Hanson will mind, do you?”
“I doubt he’ll notice one or two…or three missing candies.” Kyle shook his head. “I’m sure she’s leaving because she lives in New York, Tom. She’s just here temporarily.”
Tom closed Hanson’s locker then switched to the other side of the room, his fingers deftly opening and closing each door. “I’m pretty sure she can write from anywhere. There are authors all over this country who live in places other than New York. That’s one of the many beauties of computers, e-mail and an occasional airplane ticket.”
Was Tom right? Could Betsy really work from anywhere?
“Seriously, stop borrowing trouble and just see how things play out.” Tom gave up his search and headed toward the door. “You’ve got feelings for her—that’s obvious. So why not see where they go?”
Oh, he knew where they went. And how they tasted. And how they felt. And how they sounded. And how they moved. It was all he’d thought about since they were together.
Well, that, and the nagging voice in his head warning him to get out before it was too late.
To Tom, he simply shrugged. “That’s all well and good except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Callie.”
His hand on the door, Tom turned. “Callie was six months old when Lila left. She remembers nothing. And unless I’m missing something, she’s one well-adjusted kid despite that.” Releasing his grip on the door, Tom crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Second, there’s not a single one of us who can’t benefit from feeling special even if it’s only for a little while. Betsy does that for Callie.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing. You don’t know Betsy is leaving. If she does, you deal with it then. Quit borrowing trouble before you have to.”
Chapter Sixteen
There were times she questioned her own judgment. But, in those instances, it usually involved a character or a plot point—mundane stuff that could be deleted and changed without anyone being the wiser.
Today, though, there would be no opportunity to delete, no chance to sweep a mistake under the proverbial carpet. Because this time her error in judgment extended to the real world.
Betsy set the tray of piping hot cookies onto a wire rack and then leaned against the counter, her eyes seeking the clock on the microwave again and again. Tom and Angela, along with Kyle and Callie, were due at her home in less than five minutes and every warning bell in her head was sounding.
What on earth was she trying to prove? Kyle had relationship issues, that was obvious. But he reached for old answers when question marks reared between them. And it wasn’t fair.
She wasn’t Lila.
And he’s not Mark….
The thought brought her up short. She’d done the same thing to him. She’d used the past to dictate her present.
But was it a habit they could break?
A knock at the front door brought an end to her misgivings. With a quick wipe of her hand on a nearby dish towel, Betsy peeked around the corner of the kitchen and waved her friends inside. “Hi, Angela. Hi, Tom. C’mon in.”
Angela stepped in first, her green catlike eyes set off perfectly by the green T-shirt and white capris she sported. Behind her came Tom, decked out in a pair of long black nylon shorts and a cream-colored shirt boasting a favorite beer label.
“Mmm, do I smell chocolate chip cookies?”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the way Tom’s nose rose into the air to chase the homemade scent. “Yes.”
“Kudos to my wife, here, for finding such a good friend.” Stopping just inside the kitchen doorway, he pointed at the tray. “Did you know that royalty often have taste testers?”
“Oh, here we go.” Angela folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes.
Ignoring his wife, Tom continued. “The taste tester is there to make sure that all food is fit for consumption before it touches the lips of royalty. That way, if someone tries to poison the king via his food, the taste tester will die first, alerting the king to danger and thus, saving his life.”
The corners of her mouth twitched as she shot a knowing look in Angela’s direction before addressing Tom. “So…why, exactly, are you telling me this?”
His face a mask of seriousness, Tom looked at the cookies and then back at Betsy. “It would be a shame to see something happen to you. Your fans would be crushed. Don’t you think you owe it to them to take certain precautions?”
Uncrossing her arms, Angela marched across the kitchen and pulled a cookie from the tray. “He wants a cookie. And unless you want puppy dog eyes following you for the rest of the day you need to let him have one. Now.”
At Betsy’s amused nod, Tom reached for the cookie and shoved it into his mouth, his eyes closing in satisfaction. “This is why I love my wife.”
“Hey! I’m the one who made those cookies, mister,” Betsy protested, her words morphing into laughter. Maybe it really was going to be okay. Even if Kyle showed up with his stone-faced persona, she’d still have fun thanks to Angela and Tom.
A second knock at the door made them all turn, the quick look of amusement between Angela and Tom not lost on her.
“In gratitude for that cookie, I’ll get the door,” Tom said as he patted Betsy on the back. “Give me another and you won’t even know he’s here.”
“You’re on,” she quipped as she scooped a second cookie from the tray and handed it to Angela’s husband.
“Man, you’re easy.”
She pulled her gaze from Tom’s back as it receded down the hallway and fixed it on Angela. “I shouldn’t have invited him.”
“Yes, you should have.” Grabbing hold of Betsy’s arm, Angela pulled her onto the sunporch. “These are just hurdles, Betsy. Hurdles can be jumped.”
“Can they? When they keep popping up again and again?”
“You know you want to,” Angela said before turning to greet Callie as the little girl ran down the hall, her father trailing behind Tom. “Callie, I love those braids! Think you can do that to my hair one day?”
Callie laughed, a contagious sound that made them all smile. Even Kyle. “Your hair is too short for braids, Mrs. Murphy. But Ashley in my class wears lots of little ponytails in her hair. Maybe that would work on your hair, too.”
Stepping onto the sunporch, Tom shooed Callie forward toward the back door and the lawn games he’d dropped off earlier in the day. “I think we should leave that style for Ashley. Let it be her special thing. What do you say?”
If Callie answered, they didn’t hear, her long braids smacking against her shoulders as she followed Tom into the backyard.
“Hey, Ang.” Kyle touched the woman’s shoulder with his hand, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek at the s
ame time. When he straightened up, he looked at Betsy, his eyes conveying things she was afraid to decipher. “Hi, Betsy. Thanks for inviting us. My mom said Callie’s been talking about it all morning.” Glancing down at the container in his hand, he extended it in her direction. “I made up a batch of cheddar and bacon potatoes. I hope you like them.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I know you’re busy at the station.”
“And you’re busy writing.” He took a step forward as he spoke, the gap between them growing smaller by the moment. “It’s no different.”
It never ceased to amaze her how her body sprang to attention the moment Kyle was near. It was as if her very being was equipped with an invisible homing mechanism where he was concerned.
“You know, I think I’m going to head outside. See if maybe Tom and Callie need a little help with whatever they’ve gotten themselves into.”
Angela’s words broke through her reverie, returning her to the reality that was her relationship with Kyle. “Why don’t you both go outside? I’ll be out in a minute after I put these potatoes in the oven to warm.”
The disappointment in Kyle’s face was mirrored in Angela’s but neither made an issue of her request. Instead, they dutifully did as they were asked, leaving her alone inside the kitchen.
She appreciated Angela’s efforts to give them privacy, she really did. But she simply wasn’t ready. The hurt was still too raw.
Fortunately it didn’t last for long. In addition to his many endearing traits, Tom Murphy was a master at making people feel at ease. His sunny disposition, coupled with his goofy sense of humor, had them laughing away the hours as they alternated between dinner, lawn darts, dessert, volleyball and, finally, good old conversation set against the backdrop of a portable fireplace and a platter of s’more fixings.
“So…do you think you’ll make your deadline?”
Startled, she looked up from the s’more Callie was making, and met Angela’s eyes. Why on earth would she bring that up now? Especially when things with Kyle were going so well?
“Uh…I hope so. I kind of need to.”
A Mom for Callie Page 14
