Alex took his place across from her.
“Now can I get a hamburger?”
Macy reached for a bag and selected a junior-size burger and a packet of fries and set it on Cory’s plate, then offered the bag to Alex.
Only as she was pouring tea into glasses did she notice the red-white-and-blue package that Alex had set beside his plate. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding her head toward the packet as she set the pitcher down and took a burger for herself.
“I took the liberty of doing a little investigation,” Alex explained. “I think you might be surprised at what I found out.” He started to bring his burger up to his lips, then stopped, holding his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “It’s good news,” he said, “but it can wait till later when Cory’s settled.” Then he took a bite out of his burger.
Good news notwithstanding, Macy had a feeling it was something that was going to change her world.
Why she thought that, she didn’t know. Especially when she didn’t dare presume she knew what that envelope contained.
BLOCK FELT as though he’d dodged a bullet with the invitation to eat at Macy’s. After he’d calmed down as he listened to Macy chew out their son, he’d realized that he would have been dumber than a two-dollar dog to rush over to Macy’s house and accuse her of being an unfit mother.
He was glad he’d had the chance to simmer down. Especially considering he’d jumped to an entirely wrong conclusion. They weren’t shopping bags, but fast-food sacks.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Alex,” Macy commented as she pushed her plate away.
He looked down at his half-eaten dinner. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” he said. Macy ought to understand that, Block thought. She probably had just as much, if not more, thinking to do than he did.
Macy smiled a faraway sort of smile. “I can sure empathize with that.” She shook her head and her smile widened. “Anyone for dessert? Homemade apple pie. Not.”
Cory, with red smears on his face, looked up from the design he had traced in a puddle of ketchup. “You made pie?” he said, his eyes wide with surprise. “I di’n’t think you knew how. That’s what grammas do.”
Macy seemed to flinch as though Cory had delivered a real blow, but she recovered quickly enough. “I might not have made them, but I did make them appear. I reached into my pocket, handed over my money and brought them home.” Eyes twinkling, she looked at Cory. “All by myself,” she added as she reached into the take-out bag.
“Huh?” Then knowing came into Cory’s eyes as Macy handed him a small, fried apple pie. “Oh, I get it. It’s one of those grown-up jokes. You buyed them apple pies, huh?”
“Got it in one, young man,” Block replied. “I bet your mom would be a great cook if she wasn’t busy saving the lives of everybody in town, though.”
Block could see the pleased expression on Macy’s face as she took in his compliment. And he did think she could do it all. After all, she’d put herself through medical school, raised a son single-handedly, and saved lives on a regular basis. What had he done that would add up to that? He’d been trained for war, he had jumped out of airplanes for a living, and now he couldn’t even do that.
“Thank you,” Macy said as she passed a cardboard-encased pie wedge to Block. “I can cook, and do often, but nothing as wonderful and complicated as your grandmother,” she added as if she wanted him to know that medicine wasn’t all she was good for.
He already knew that. After all, he’d spent some of the most wonderful nights of his life with her in his arms. She was very good at something other than medicine. And if that had been beginner’s luck, he’d love to know how she’d be after some practice. Block shook that thought out of his mind.
First things first, he reminded himself. Today was the first time in days he’d gotten Macy to speak to him civilly. He wasn’t about to ruin it with those kinds of thoughts. He had the information from Jennifer Larsen to show her. Eager to get on with the show, he ate his pie quickly and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Dinner was delicious. Can I help you with the dishes?”
“Yes, thank you,” Macy said. “Cory, as soon as you finish your pie, you may go watch televison until seven-thirty.”
“Okay,” Cory said, shoving the last bite of pie into his mouth and scrambling down from the chair at the same time.
“Don’t wipe your face on your sl—” Macy sighed. “On your sleeve,” she finished, two seconds too late. “I give up.” Shaking her head, she raised her hands in surrender, then turned to Block. “If you’ll gather up the take-out wrappings, I’ll have these washed in no time.”
“Will do, ma’am,” Block said, saluting. “I’ll even dry if you can trust these big mitts with your fine china.”
“It’s hardly fine china,” Macy said. “And I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Block smiled to himself as he gathered up the supper wrappers. Was this what it would be like to be a part of a real family? Did he dare think something like this might really come to be?
He stuffed the individual wrappings into the largest bag and carried them into the kitchen.
Macy looked so…so domestic, standing there, her hands deep in soapy water. He wanted to walk up behind her and pull the pins out of that silly ball of hair and pull it loose. He wanted to lift the tangled locks up off her neck and kiss her just like he’d seen in movies and on television. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and make love to her.
He decided to try the former and save the latter for later. He knew one thing for sure. He was going to do what it took to make Macy and Cory his.
Block stuffed the trash into the can, then stepped up behind Macy.
“Ready to dry?” Macy asked without looking up.
“Not quite,” Block replied.
When Macy, a puzzled look on her face, turned to look at him, Block made his move. “I just want to thank you more properly for dinner,” he said as he tipped her face up to his.
Macy’s breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? Did it mean that the anger and hurt between them was going away?
Or did he really just want to thank her for dinner?
The soft pressure on her lips that grew bolder, then lingered, seemed to indicate more than mere thanks for a meal and a pleasant evening.
Macy moaned and melted into Alex’s arms and her body came alive. If this was a thank-you kiss, she’d love to see the real thing. She wanted more. She wanted to have it all.
She wrapped her soapy hands around his neck and drew him closer, all the better to feel his strong, hard body next to hers. His heart beat against hers, the rhythm so steady, so sure.
His arms came around her, pressing her to him, and Macy felt the warmth and heat from his body. He was so potent, so male. How could any woman not fall in love with him? Why had she not taken that one step that would have made him hers all those years ago?
He pressed his tongue against her mouth, and she opened for him, allowing him inside. She tasted him and he her and it was good. She wanted him, she wanted—
“Ewwwwww.”
Chapter Twelve
Alex and Macy quickly stepped apart at the sound of Cory’s voice. Alex’s expression had the look of a boy with his hands caught in a cookie jar and, to tell the truth, Macy sort of felt that way, too.
“I was just thanking your mother for dinner,” Alex said stiffly as he stepped away.
“And you hadda kiss her? Gross.” Cory shuddered. “I hope I never have to do that when I get grown up.”
Alex seemed too shocked to respond, but Macy tried to suppress a smile. Apparently Alex had forgotten about being a kid and thinking that girls and kissing were disgusting. “You might change your mind about that someday, son,” Macy said, trying valiantly to keep a straight face. She drew in a deep breath and finally gained control of herself. “Did you want something?”
“It’s seven-firty.”
“What?” Macy frowned. “Oh. Time for your bath.” She turned to Alex.
“Think you can handle the rest of the dishes while I get this young man ready for bed?’
“I think I can handle it,” Alex said, his voice serious, but with a gleam in his eye. “We do have some business to attend to that would best be done without a chaperon.”
Macy wondered what Alex meant about that, but she let the remark pass as she steered Cory toward the bathroom. She ran Cory’s tub and settled him into the warm water. Sitting on the toilet, she watched while Cory fought a mock battle with his boats using all sorts of sound effects she’d never taught him. Where he’d learned those, Macy didn’t know. Was playing war inborn in all male children?
As Cory played, Macy turned her mind to more pleasant thoughts. As much as she knew what would surely come next if Alex wanted to continue where they’d left off, she suspected that “the business” they had to attend to had more to do with the envelope and what it contained.
And, for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what Alex could have dug up that would be important to her.
BLOCK FINISHED drying the few dishes and placed them on the counter. He didn’t put them away because he didn’t know where they went. Somehow it seemed like an invasion of privacy to go looking through Macy’s cabinets to find out where to put them.
He chuckled wryly to himself. Some sort of integrity he had there, he told himself. After all, hadn’t he just gone poking into more private areas of Macy’s life than her kitchen cabinets when he’d asked Jennifer to investigate her father? He shrugged, left the dishes where they were, and went out into the living room.
Cory was obviously still in the tub because Block could hear the sounds of full-scale sea battle coming through the open bathroom door. He wondered if he should go in, but decided to leave it for now. He might be Cory’s father, but they still had a long way to go before Cory might be ready to accept him as such.
The memory of Cory’s outburst from earlier that afternoon still preyed on his mind. It surprised him how much Cory’s statement had hurt. Did that mean that Cory would never accept that he was, in fact, his father when the time came? Or would he always be just an “honorary uncle” to his own son?
Block wandered the room, taking in the details that had escaped him in his earlier visits. A clutter of photographs in freestanding frames that he hadn’t paid any attention to before were propped on top of the old-fashioned cabinet-style television, and more were on the mantel above the bricked-up fireplace. Block picked them up and studied them, one by one.
This was his child, his flesh and blood. Here in a series of formal and candid shots was Cory’s life. Block swallowed a lump the size of a C-130 transport plane in his throat. And he hadn’t been there to see any of it.
As he picked up the last one Macy called to him. Block quickly put the photograph down as if he’d been caught snooping.
Macy must have guessed what he’d been thinking. “It’s all right, Alex. They’re there for people to see. You should have been there to see him at all those ages. I realize that now,” she said softly, an apology in her eyes.
“Mo-om!” Cory yelled, his tone obviously impatient.
“Coming.” She smiled, bringing a twinkle to her lovely hazel eyes. “Cory’s ready for his story. I thought you might want to do the honors while I put the dishes away.”
Block could have done back flips. “Hoo-ah,” he cheered. “You bet I do!” He started for Cory’s room.
“Hoo-ah? What does that mean?”
“It’s just a paratrooper expression. It can mean anything from hooray to I understand,” he explained. “In this case, it means hallellujah!”
“Hoo-ah,” Macy whispered softly. “I understand,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Go. Read to your son.”
Block was halfway to Cory’s room before he realized that this was the first time that Macy had referred to Cory as his son. Not just hers.
He issued another, silent hoo-ah, then stepped into Cory’s room.
AFTER SEEING the expression on Alex’s face, it was all Macy could do to keep from weeping. For joy or out of guilt, she didn’t know.
She’d been so wrong to keep Cory a secret from his father. And now after seeing the way Alex interacted with their son, she wondered why she had ever believed that he wouldn’t care.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and Macy blinked them back as she hurried into the kitchen. She and Alex had come so far this week that she didn’t want to ruin it now with ill-timed remorse. Yes, she had been wrong, but she didn’t want Alex to think she was crying crocodile tears when they were making such good progress.
And they still had a few things to settle, she realized as she put away the few dishes they’d used. There was no doubt in her mind that Alex loved Cory, but Macy still had no idea what his feelings were for her. In the past week he’d demonstrated a gamut of emotions to her, from lust to anger to friendship, but not love. Oh, she suspected—maybe hoped was a better word—that he cared for her, but how would she know for sure?
If she didn’t figure out some way to tell what Alex truly felt about her, she’d never be certain. She wanted them to be together, to be a real family, and she sensed that Alex was beginning to want that, too. But she wanted it all as she had all along. She wanted him to love her for herself, not because he’d have to take her as part of a package deal.
Macy shook her head as she closed the cupboard door. Why was she even thinking this? Was she just like every young woman she’d ever spoken to who started thinking wedding bells and china patterns after two or three dates? Did she really think that she could make a future with Alex and her son just because they’d had a past?
Just yesterday he’d been so angry with her that he’d frightened her, even if they had made love immediately after. Just because they’d had a pleasant evening so far tonight with no arguments and no angry words, it did not mean that the tensions between them were over. Alex had every right to be angry with her, and all she had the right to hope was that eventually he might forgive her.
She switched off the kitchen light and tiptoed to Cory’s door. Block had already finished reading whatever story Cory had chosen and was awkwardly trying to tuck him in. Macy smiled as she watched.
Alex started to get up, but Cory summoned him back. “Wait. You hafta listen to my prayers.” He reached out and took one of Alex’s huge hands and tugged.
Smiling, Alex settled back down on the edge of the small bed. Macy couldn’t help smiling, too, as she noticed how big Alex was and how he seemed to dwarf everything in that small room, yet Cory didn’t seem to care about anything except that Alex was there.
“…and God bless Mama and Alex and Gramma and…” Cory paused, Macy swallowed as she realized that Cory had left off the Uncle before Alex. Did that mean anything significant? She waited for the rest. Did he have some other request?
Apparently Cory had second thoughts about whatever else he had started to say, because he yawned and stretched and very sleepily added, “Amen.” Then he rolled over and seemed to go straight to sleep.
“Amen,” Alex said, his voice husky and raw. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Cory with an expression that seemed nothing short of awe and wonder, Macy thought. It was something she’d done when her son was an infant, but she hadn’t stopped to do so much lately. She hadn’t realized how he’d grown, and she swallowed a faint pang of sadness.
It wouldn’t be long before he’d be going to school and growing up and she’d…
“You’ve done a good job with our son,” Alex said, his tone of voice more tender than Macy had ever heard it.
Macy looked up. She hadn’t noticed that Alex had left Cory’s bedside. How could such a big man be so light on his feet?
“Thank you,” she said, for lack of anything else to say. She still felt incredibly selfish for not wanting to share this with Alex.
He touched her on the cheek and tipped her face up to look at him. Was he going to kiss her? No, he just smiled and moved his hand down to her waist, and Macy
felt a delicious tingle of delight as his warm fingers settled just above her hip.
He switched off Cory’s bedroom light. “We have a lot to talk about,” Alex said simply as he steered her with his hand at her waist toward the front room. “And I don’t think we should do it standing here outside Cory’s door.”
Macy nodded, wondering what he meant by that. “I guess you’re right,” she said. She gestured toward the couch. “Shall we sit there?”
“Works for me,” Alex said. “But first I need to get that packet off the table.”
The envelope. Macy had almost forgotten about the red-white-and-blue post office envelope he’d brought with him. What did it contain? What kind of information had he researched that he thought would make a difference?
She patted the seat cushion as Alex returned with the mysterious packet. “Curiosity is killing me, Alex,” Macy said as he took a seat beside her. And maybe a little dread.
“Alex,” he said as if he’d never heard the name before. “You know, I’ve had a hard time getting used to answering to that,” he said. “I’ve gone by Block for so long. But now I think it’s growing on me. Especially when you say it.”
Macy couldn’t help being pleased, but curious at the same time. “Do you like Block better? And why Block? Why not Al or Sandy?”
Still standing above her, Alex chuckled. “Sandy’s a little too girly for a serious air commando, don’t you think?” He smiled, ruefully, this time. “I didn’t find this out for a long while, but when I first got into the service, I was known to be hardheaded, so some of the men took to calling me Blockhead, behind my back at any rate. Everybody got a nickname, and eventually they shortened it to Block. It stuck, and I’ve been answering to it ever since.”
“Block,” Macy said, testing the name on her tongue. “Do you want me to call you Block?” It would take some getting used to, but she’d try.
Alex shook his head emphatically. “No way. I love the way you call me Alex,” he said. A man could get addicted to the sound of that whiskey-rough voice of hers calling his name. “I’m finally getting used to it.”
The Sergeant's Secret Son Page 17
