by Joan Kilby
Max slowly unfolded his long body from the car and placed the keys in her open palm. With a forgiving smile he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Next week, I’ll pick you up.”
Stunned, she closed her hand around the keys. After all that he still wanted to go dancing? Kelly felt as though she’d been bludgeoned with a copy of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.
Yet, at the moment, the dance lessons were the only link they had besides the children.
Sighing, she said, “Okay. See you next week.”
Max lingered. “Not until then? Won’t you be coming around—”
“To make dinner and do the laundry? Of course I will.”
“You know that’s not why I want you home, Kel. You belong here. The girls need you.” He started to put his arms around her. “How about we end this date the way we ended our first? With a kiss.”
Sidestepping him, she held up a hand. “Let’s just say good-night while our tempers are intact.”
Kelly got back in her car and drove away. In the rearview mirror Max’s silhouette stood out blackly against the security light, as hip cocked, arms akimbo, he watched her leave. She sighed. If only they could go back to the innocence of their courting days.
THE NEXT DAY RANDALL WAS in his room, playing chess on the computer, when he heard the front door open. Max had just left for Seattle and a meeting with clients. Beth and the twins were in the backyard, having a game of scrub softball, and Robyn had locked herself in Beth’s room, with a book. Randall got up to see who was at the door. The Walkers were great people, but they were pretty lax about things like locking doors. Anybody could just walk in.
When he saw Kelly, arms laden with grocery bags, he halted midway down the hall. He’d never had to deal with her on her own before and now he glanced around, hoping that by some miracle, the twins or Beth would come running. Even the dogs would provide a welcome distraction. But they were out back with the younger girls. Robyn, he hoped, wouldn’t appear.
“Uh, hi, Mrs. Walker.” He made himself move forward, reaching for the grocery bag balanced precariously on top of the two in her arms. “Let me help.”
Only the fact that the bag was about to fall produced her muffled “Thanks”; he was sure of that. He would have taken one of the other bags, as well, but she surged ahead, leaving him to follow in her wake.
“Any more groceries in the car?” he asked as he deposited the bag on the island benchtop.
“No, that’s it. Thanks.” Without casting him a second glance, she began stowing milk and butter in the fridge.
Randall handed her a carton of eggs. “Did you enjoy the dancing?”
“It was fine.” Kelly stepped around him to reach for the bags of vegetables and fruit and headed back to the refrigerator.
Randall opened the door for her. “Were there lots of people?”
“Enough.” Kelly backed away from the fridge. “You can close the door now. The cold air is getting out.”
Flushing, Randall pushed it shut. He wanted to get on her good side, but she wasn’t making it easy for him. Plus he truly wanted to know how their evening had gone. Max had been grumpy and uncommunicative this morning. Randall retreated to the island bench and started folding the paper bags along their creases. He’d noticed the clean empty jars and yogurt containers in one of the cupboards and deduced Kelly didn’t like throwing things away.
Kelly straightened from putting the last of the fresh produce in the crisper, leaving out a selection of vegetables. He handed her the folded bags.
She did a double take and met his gaze for the first time since she’d arrived. “Thanks.”
“Beth showed me your plant room,” he said as Kelly got out the chopping board and started slicing onions. “The flower arrangements are really pretty.” She merely nodded, so he continued, “Afterward I looked up dried flowers on the Internet. People sell stuff just like yours by e-mail.”
“Is that so?”
He thought he detected a flicker of interest, but she didn’t ask him about the Web sites so he let the matter drop. “Can I give you a hand with anything? I usually help Mom with dinner. Dad had a section of the kitchen counter lowered for her, but she still finds cooking awkward.”
Kelly gave him a tight, closemouthed smile. “You’re a real helpful guy, aren’t you, Randall?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he said uncertainly. “So…?”
“So why don’t you find something else to do?” There was an underlying tinge of what almost sounded like desperation to her voice. “If I need help I’ll call Robyn or Beth.”
“Sure.” Completely crushed, he backed away.
He would have gone straight to his room, but Tina burst through the sliding door. “Randy, we need you. Someone has to play catcher ’cuz Tammy keeps ducking when I’m up to bat.”
Up till now he’d avoided all their efforts to get him to play softball, but at the moment it looked like a pretty good option. At least someone wanted him around. “Okay.”
Tina took him by the hand and dragged him to the makeshift diamond in the backyard. Beth tossed him a baseball mitt. The leather felt stiff and the mitt was too small, but he jammed his fingers in anyway and tentatively punched a fist into the cavity where the ball would—theoretically, at least—land.
“Stand behind Tina,” Beth instructed him from the piece of weathered board that served as a pitcher’s mound.
Randall got into position, awkwardly holding his mitt out to the side at what he imagined was the correct angle.
“No, no, no.” Tammy, a diminutive expert, strode over, blond curls bouncing, and nudged him out of the way. “You crouch down, like this,” she said, demonstrating. “And hold your mitt up, like this.”
Randall crouched and stuck up his arm in the required manner. Beth wound up her arm dramatically and pitched the ball. Tina swung wildly and Randall shut his eyes. The ball missed the bat and went over his shoulder and into the lilac bushes.
“Never mind,” Beth said cheerfully. “We’ll try again.”
On the second pitch, Tina connected and the ball rolled toward shortstop. Beth scooped up the ball and threw it to Tammy on first base. Tammy missed and Tina kept going around the bases. Tammy got the ball and tossed it back to Beth, who threw it to Randall just as Tina touched third.
“Go, Tina!” Randall cheered her on, oblivious to his duties as catcher. “Come on, you can make it.”
“Catch the ball, Randy!” Beth yelled.
The ball bounced on the dirt patch that was home plate and disappeared into the lilacs.
“Randy!” Beth threw up her hands as Tina ran home. “You’re supposed to catch the ball and tag her out.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Mortified, he plunged into the bushes after the errant ball, emerging a moment later with his glasses cockeyed and leaves in his hair.
One of the leaves fell into the gap behind his glasses, obscuring his vision and blocking his eye like a pirate patch. Tina began to laugh, then Tammy. Then Beth.
“You should see your face,” Beth said between giggles. “You look like you’re going to explode.”
Their girlish chortles, restrained at first, gained in volume until the air was filled with uproarious merriment. Randall felt his face turn a deeper shade of red. Oh, man, this was worse than when that creep Kevin Turnbull had teased him because he couldn’t kick a football. Randall dropped the ball on home plate and started to slink off.
“Hey, Randy, where are you going?” Tammy called. A small hand pulled on his shirt and he glanced down to see the little girl smiling up at him. “We’re not laughing at you—we’re laughing with you. Mom says we always have to make sure people know that,” she added parenthetically.
“Yeah,” piped up Tina. “You looked so cute when you were cheering Tammy home. Kinda dumb, but cute.”
Cute? A four-year-old was calling him cute? Randall couldn’t help but smile. Encouraged, the twins danced around his legs, hooting with mirth. Randall shook his head at their antics
. His grin widened and moments later he was laughing, too, laughing for the sake of laughing until his sides hurt.
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands to stem their giggles. “Are you going to teach me how to play softball, or what?”
By the time Kelly called them into dinner, Randall had grass stains on the knees of his chinos and his legs ached from the unaccustomed exercise. He washed his hands at the bathroom sink and watched the dirt swirl down the drain. What would his mom think if she could see him now? He hoped she would simply be glad he was having fun.
He took his place at the dinner table between Beth and Tammy as Kelly set out big bowls of flat noodles and beef stroganoff. The savory aroma hit his nostrils and set off a loud rumble in his stomach. From across the table Robyn gave him a disgusted look that made Randall’s cheeks burn.
“Someone’s hungry,” Max said, grinning. “Dig in.”
After dinner was over and the dishes cleared away, Kelly disappeared into her plant room, and Beth and the twins went out to feed the chickens. Randall stayed behind in the kitchen to dry the pots and put them away. Kelly had told him to let them dry in the rack, but Audrey had taught him to leave the kitchen spotless.
Robyn was about to wander off, too, when her father stopped her. “Robyn, I want to talk to you.”
Randall didn’t know what Miss Perfect could have done to warrant that stern voice from Max, but he thought he’d better leave them alone.
Before he could, Max said, “You know I don’t like you girls playing around on my computer.”
Randall froze, dish towel in hand. Max and Robyn seemed to have forgotten he was there and now he couldn’t have walked out of that room if his life had depended on it.
Robyn stared at her father. “I know that. I haven’t been near your computer.”
“Robyn.” Max’s voice held reproof and was patently disbelieving. “Someone e-mailed your mother, pretending to be me. Just admit it and I won’t be angry.”
“Honest, Dad, I haven’t touched your e-mail.” She was beginning to get upset.
He passed a hand through his hair and his voice softened slightly. “Robyn, I know this…situation has been difficult for you, but your mother and I will work out our problems. We don’t need ‘help’ that will only complicate and confuse the issues.”
“I swear to you I haven’t touched your e-mail.”
“Then who did?”
Randall spoke up. “Me.”
CHAPTER NINE
MAX AND ROBYN TURNED to stare at him. Randall felt the heat creep up his neck and knew a deep agony of regret as Max’s face registered shock and disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I never thought…” He hadn’t expected to get caught, and he so rarely did anything wrong that he hadn’t considered the consequences, much less someone else getting blamed for his actions.
“Robyn,” Max said, still staring at Randall, “please leave us.”
Robyn walked slowly out of the room, casting puzzled glances over her shoulder.
“Come here, Randall,” Max said, moving to the family room. “Sit down.”
Twisting the dish towel between his hands, Randall went and sat on the far end of the couch from Max.
“Why did you do it?” Max asked.
Randall shrugged. Max’s steady gaze tied his tongue.
“Never mind. I think I know. But, Randall, you’re a smart kid. You must have realized it was wrong. I wouldn’t have expected this of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Randall said in a low voice, looking at the floor. God, he hoped Max wouldn’t send him away. “I won’t do it again.”
“I believe you.” Max was silent for a long moment. “As much as I deplore the sneakiness of your actions, I admire the fact that you wouldn’t let Robyn take the blame.”
Randall felt a trickle of relief; Max didn’t hate him. “She had nothing to do with it, honest.”
“I know. Do you remember what I told you the other day—that you shouldn’t feel guilty about Kelly and me?”
Randall hitched one shoulder higher than the other and risked a glance at Max. “It’s hard not to. Robyn hates me because her mom’s not home.”
“The situation isn’t your fault,” Max insisted. “You’ve got to trust me on this.”
Randall nodded, even though he knew that while Max might not blame him, Max’s wife and daughter certainly did.
“Don’t worry about Robyn and Kelly,” Max said, as if he knew what Randall was thinking. “I’ll have a talk with them—”
“No, please don’t,” Randall said quickly. “That’ll only make things worse.”
Max considered a moment, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right. They’ll come around eventually. Now, don’t you have something better to do than polish pots and pans?”
Randall grinned and folded the dish towel. “My computer chess tournament. I’m into the finals.”
Half an hour later, he was frowning at the computer screen, calculating his crucial next move, when he heard a knock at the half-closed door. “Just a second, please,” he called. If he moved the queen’s pawn, he put his knight in jeopardy. If he didn’t, he would surely lose his bishop.
The knock came again. “Are you busy?” a voice asked.
Robyn! Surprise threw off his concentration. Randall spun his chair around. Robyn never spoke to him unless absolutely necessary and then only in monosyllables. Which was okay, but he wished she liked him a little.
“I was just playing chess,” he said. “Come in.”
She stepped inside the room and, after a slight hesitation, shut the door. Weirder and weirder. He felt awkward inviting her to sit down in her own room, but he gestured to the bed. And promptly felt himself turn brickred.
“You’ve really got to work on that blushing problem, you realize.” She moved aside his computer magazines and sat primly on the bed with her legs pressed together and her hands tucked under her knees.
“If I knew how to stop it, I would,” he muttered, then added ungraciously, “what do you want?”
“To thank you for telling Dad it was you and not me who used his e-mail.”
“Well, of course.” Letting someone else take the blame for something he’d done would never occur to him.
“Why did you do it?” Robyn went on. “E-mail my mom and pretend you were my dad. Was it to trick her into coming over for the dance lessons?”
Randall nodded. “I feel bad that she left because of me. I wanted to bring her and Max back together.”
Robyn seemed satisfied with his answer. “It worked. They went out. Your e-mail stunt gave me an idea. Will you help me try something else?”
“What exactly do you mean?” he asked warily. “I promised Max I wouldn’t interfere anymore.”
Robyn waved a graceful hand. “Dad will never find out. And this time, if he does, I’ll take the blame.”
She could be setting him up. She could be on the level. With Robyn, he just couldn’t tell. She wasn’t like Beth, open and straightforward.
“If you really want to make Dad happy you’ll help me get Mom back,” Robyn added persuasively.
In the end, Randall went with his gut feeling. If Robyn was so desperate to have her mother back that she would trust him, that should mean he could trust her. And he wanted Max happy. Surely in this case, the ends justified the means.
“Okay,” he said at last. “What’s your plan?”
THAT SATURDAY MORNING Max exited the florist’s shop, pleased with himself. Why hadn’t he thought of flowers earlier? Kelly had liked her anniversary roses. The huge bouquet of Kelly’s favorite blooms he’d arranged to be delivered to her office was sure to be a hit.
Strolling back down Main Street, he encountered elderly Mrs. Thompson, and an excess of high spirits caused him to inquire after her health. As she launched into a detailed reply on her favorite subject Max shifted his feet and began to regret his impulse. She was a dear, but she did carry on and he had to get back to work.
He was half listening to Mrs. Thompson recount her bunion operation, when he spotted something that jerked him fully alert. Robyn and Randall were walking toward him—together. Robyn and Randall? Those two couldn’t be in the same room without Robyn making some snide comment, and whenever the boy could, he avoided her. What had caused them to seek each other’s company?
Robyn and Randall noticed Max two seconds after he saw them and halted abruptly. They looked at each other in alarm and darted into the adjacent drugstore.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Thompson,” Max said, edging away. “I just saw my daughter go into Blackwell’s and I have to speak to her.”
“All right, Max. Lovely to see you again. You and Kelly come over for coffee and doughnuts sometime.”
“Thanks, we’ll do that.” And he was off.
He found the pair skulking along the far wall, leafing through magazines.
“Hi, kids.” He slowed to a nonchalant stroll. “What’s happening?”
“Oh, hi, Dad,” Robyn replied, innocent as a newborn.
Randall lifted his gaze from the pages of Computer Time to reveal an expression saturated with guilt.
“What are you two up to?” Max casually posed his question to Robyn. “Did you entice Randall on a shopping expedition?”
“I’m just…showing him the town,” Robyn replied. “All Beth ever does with him is play softball or throw the Frisbee around.”
“I see. Enjoying the tour, Randall?”
Randall nodded, avoiding eye contact.
“So, what’s your next stop?” Max asked. “The library?”
“Uh, I’m not sure,” Robyn said. “Maybe the Burger Shack. Shouldn’t you be working, Dad?”
“I had some errands in town.” He wasn’t going to get any more out of these two. “Want a ride home later?”
“No, that’s okay. We’ll walk or take the bus.”
“I’ll see you around, then.”
“Bye, Dad,” Robyn said with obvious relief.
Randall muttered goodbye, too, and Max left. Whatever they were up to, it was obviously a secret. But they were both good kids so it couldn’t be too bad. Could it?
