Deirdre Martin

by Deirdre Martin

  “This is a nice house,” said Tuck, glancing around. “Kinda boring, though.”

  “I’m still putting it together. Don’t try to change the subject. We’re talking about your mom.”

  The momentarily lightness in Tuck’s face drained away, replaced by a look of mulish determination. “I still don’t wanna live with her.”

  Paul sighed, scratching the stubble on his left cheek. “I’m not sure you have a choice, pal.”

  Tuck turned shy. “Can I live here?” he asked in a small voice.

  “Tuck.”

  “Are you my dad?” Tuck blurted.

  The desperation in his eyes was like a stake puncturing Paul’s heart. He made sure his voice was firm but gentle. “I’m not your father.”

  Tuck deflated. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because my mom has screwed lots of guys—”

  “Tuck.” Paul’s voice was sterner this time. “I swear to you, I am not your father.”

  Tuck’s eyes began watering. “Then why were you using me on the ice so much?”

  “You know why. We talked about it at practice. Because you’re a great hockey player and I wanted you guys to experience winning.”

  “Maybe I inherited my hockey skills from you,” Tuck continued stubbornly. “Maybe—”

  “Tuck, listen to me!” The sharpness in Paul’s voice shocked both of them. Paul wasn’t sure it was the best way to deal with this, but it was the only way he knew how. He hoped it wouldn’t mess the kid up further. “I’m not your dad. Okay? I’m not. Though I have to tell you, if I had a kid, I’d want him to be just like you.”

  Tuck hung his head, defeated. “Can I live here anyway?” he whispered, raising his glistening eyes to Paul. “I’d be quiet. I’d keep my room neat. I’d even clean the house for you if you wanted.”

  “Tuck.” Paul looked at the boy. “You and I both know you can’t.”

  Tuck turned away.

  “However.” Tuck looked back at him, hopeful. “Any time you need to talk, you can come to me. Okay? It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the day or the middle of the night. If you need to talk, you call me.”

  “But I don’t have your phone number.”

  Paul drew him in a playful head lock. “Obviously, I’m going to give it to you, you knucklehead!” He released him. “But if you give it out to anyone on the team, you are dead.”

  “I won’t,” Tuck swore solemnly.

  “Good.” Now what? “I guess I should run you home.”

  “Can’t I just stay here a little while longer?” Tuck pleaded.

  “Fine.” Paul passed Tuck his phone. “But I want you to call your mother and let her know where you are.”

  “I’m gonna bust his ass,” Mina seethed when Katie returned downstairs to announce that Tuck had shinnied down the drainpipe outside his bedroom window and taken off.

  “Maybe that’s why he ran away,” Katie suggested.

  “Maybe you should—”

  “Ladies.” Snake’s voice was a growl. “We got a serious problem here, okay? Let’s focus on that.”

  “I guess we should call the cops,” Mina said.

  “That might not be necessary,” Katie said carefully. “I have a feeling I might know where he is.”

  “Oh? Where?” Mina demanded.

  “He’s either at his best friend, Gary’s, or else he’s at Paul’s.”

  “Paul’s!” Mina squawked. “Your Paul?”

  “He’s not my Paul anymore, but yeah, that Paul.”

  “Why the hell would he be there?” Katie threw Mina a piercing look, relieved when recognition finally broke in Mina’s eyes. “Oh, shit. I can’t believe this.” She turned to Snake. “Guess we better go get him.”

  “I think I should get him,” Katie countered.

  Mina snorted in disbelief.

  “Think about it, Mina. He ran away because he doesn’t want to move in with you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I think you and Snake should go over to the apartment, and I’ll load Tuck’s stuff up in the car and then go find him and bring him over to the apartment.”

  “She’s got a point, babe,” Snake said to Mina.

  Mina’s eyes churned with resentment. “And what if he’s not with either of them? What then?”

  “Then I’ll call you and we’ll figure out what to do next.” Katie looked at both Snake and Mina. “Okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” said Snake, scratching the tattoo on his left shoulder.

  Katie looked at her sister apprehensively. “Mina?”

  Mina threw her hands up. “Fine. Aunt Katie can go rescue Tuck and look like the big hero. What. Ever.”

  She stormed outside, leaving Katie staring into Snake’s troubled eyes.

  “She’s not feelin‘ so good,” Snake offered.

  Katie reached for her coat and keys. “Who is?”

  Katie went to Gary Flaherty’s first rather than heading straight for Paul’s. She spent the ride over trying to imagine the thought process of a nine-year-old boy: If I were running away, where would I go? Answer: My best friend’s house. But Tuck wasn’t there, and thankfully, neither was Liz. Lane, Gary’s nanny, was distressed to hear Katie had “misplaced” her nephew, but she promised not to say anything to Gary for fear of alarming him.

  Katie’s heart battered against her ribs all the way over to Paul’s. What if Tuck wasn’t there? She knew he’d been hoarding his allowance for months. What if he’d gone to the train station and was bound for Manhattan? Images unfolded before Katie’s eyes of Tuck wandering Times Square, overwhelmed and afraid… Tuck’s face on the back of a milk carton… Tuck, one of myriad nameless faces on some CNN special on runaways… She tried pushing them away, but it was difficult. Growing up with Mina had trained Katie to always expect the worst.

  She pulled into Paul’s driveway with a screech, coming closer than she would have liked to rear-ending his beloved Cobra. At least he was home. Whether Tuck was there was another story.

  Before she even had a chance to ring the doorbell, the front door swung open and she was face-to-face with Paul, looking like he’d been run over a truck. Katie peered at him questioningly. There was no need for words as Paul gave a small shake of the head. Tuck was inside.

  “Hey, buddy.” Katie made sure she sounded affable as she greeted her nephew, who sat transfixed in front of the TV watching a hockey game. Katie smiled indulgently. Then she realized it was an old game that prominently featured Paul. Paul hit the remote and the screen went dark.

  “Hey!” Tuck protested.

  “Hey yourself,” said Katie.

  “I just called Mom,” Tuck said sheepishly. “Nana said she’d already left for the apartment.” He could barely look Katie in the eye. “Am I in trouble?”

  Paul and Katie exchanged sad glances. “Not with me you’re not. Your mother might be another story.” Katie approached her nephew carefully, as if he was a cat up a tree she didn’t want to startle or distress. “Shinnied down the drainpipe, huh?”

  Tuck shrugged. “I guess.”

  “You guess! Either that or you’re magic and can fly. Which is it?”

  Tuck looked timid. “Shinnied.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t fall and break your neck.”

  “Yeah, or your ankle,” Paul put in dryly. He picked up Tuck’s empty Gatorade bottle. “If you need me, I’ll be showering.”

  Katie glanced up at him gratefully. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” said Paul, disappearing down the hall to his bedroom. The image of him showering flooded Katie’s body with unexpected desire, embarrassing her. Here her -family was in crisis and what was she thinking about? Clear water cascading down Paul’s chiseled body. She needed help.

  Katie turned to Tuck. “We need to go,” she said softly.

  “I don’t want to.” He turned away from her, muffling a sob.

  “I know, baby,” Katie whispered, beginning to cry herself. “And believ
e me, I wish you didn’t have to. But your mom has worked so hard, getting better for you. You owe her a second chance.”

  Tuck turned back to her, throwing his arms around her neck. “But what if she messes up again?” he wailed. “What if it’s the same as before?”

  “It won’t be,” Katie promised, holding him tight. How frail he felt in her arms. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been allowed to hug him this tightly. She didn’t want to let him go.

  “But what if it is?” Tuck lamented.

  “Then you call me, and I come pick you up, and you and me and Nana figure out what to do.”

  Tuck whimpered, clutching tighter. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  “What about that Snake dude?” he hiccupped into Katie’s neck.

  Katie broke their embrace, smiling as she looked down into Tuck’s eyes. “I know he looks kind of scary, but I think he might be okay. And you’re only there temporarily,” she reminded him. “Until you and your mom get your own place.”

  “Yeah right,” Tuck jeered, wiping away the trail of snot dripping from his nose.

  “Here, a tissue might work better.” Katie reached into her purse for a Kleenex. She handed it to Tuck, who honked like a goose as he blew into it. “Nice one.”

  Tuck half giggled, half hiccupped. “You’ll still come to my games?”

  “You know I will.”

  Tuck nodded. Sadness swept his face. “The coach isn’t my father,” he said glumly.

  Katie’s throat felt tight. “I know that, honey.”

  “But he said I could call him if I needed to. And he said he might give Mom a waitressing job.”

  “He’s a good guy,” Katie agreed, moved by Paul’s generosity.

  “Maybe you guys will get married and then you won’t go back to that college.”

  Now was not the time or place to tell Tuck things were done between her and Paul. The kid had enough on his plate. One more melodrama would do his head in.

  “Right?” Tuck persisted.

  “Right,” Katie whispered, tossling his hair. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I need to thank the coach.”

  “Let’s wait for him, then.”

  Out of curiousity, Katie turned the TV back on, commanding the DVD to pick up where it left off. The screen sprang to life and there was Paul, tearing down the ice faster than she’d ever seen a hockey player skate, the puck ripping off his stick into the net as if it were the easiest thing in the world. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Even now, watching it on TV, Katie was gripped by a sense of what it must have been like to be there: the excitement, the adrenaline rush. Paul’s face lit up with a huge smile as he pumped his fist in the air and was swarmed by his teammates. A number of them were unabashedly crying.

  “That was one helluva night.”

  Katie looked up guiltily to see Paul watching her and

  Tuck. His hair glistened wet from the shower, his blue terry robe knotted tight at his waist.

  “I’m sorry,” Katie stammered. “We didn’t know how long you’d be.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Katie turned off the TV, nudging Tuck in Paul’s direction. “You wanted to say something to the coach?”

  “Sorry for interrupting your day,” Tuck mumbled.

  “You didn’t,” Paul assured him. “I’m glad I could help.” Over Tuck’s head, his eyes sought Katie’s. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  “So, I’ll see you at practice Monday morning?” Paul said to Tuck.

  Tuck looked momentarily panicked. “Aunt Katie? Mom doesn’t have a car.”

  “Don’t worry,” Katie soothed. “If you need me to bring you to practice, I will. It’s not a problem. Just call me.” Katie gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s not a bother, hon. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Tuck seemed mollified. He stuck his hand out awkwardly for Paul to shake. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Paul.

  “Thanks, Aunt Katie.” He ran to Katie and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Katie closed her eyes, resting her chin on the top of Tuck’s head. “You’re very, very welcome.”

  When she opened them, she saw Paul watching them, something akin to longing in his expression. Unable to handle it, she turned away.

  “Katie?”

  She turned back.

  “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  “Sure.” Katie pointed Tuck in the direction of the door. “Go wait for me in the car, okay? I’ll be along in a minute.”

  “”Kay,“ said Tuck, leaving Paul and Katie alone.

  “What’s up?” Katie asked. She hated admitting it, but being alone with Paul was unnerving, and not only because she knew every inch of that naked body beneath the bathrobe. She was in turmoil, part of her hoping he’d apologize for abruptly dumping her, part of her angry at him for doing it, part of her relieved. She’d once read somewhere that the ability to hold conflicting emotions was a sign of emotional intelligence. If so she was a genius.

  “I wanted to let you know I straightened Tuck out on the paternity issue.”

  Katie put a hand to her chest, relieved. “Thank you.”

  “Look,” Paul said, running a hand through his wet hair, “I told Tuck to tell his mom to come down to the Penalty Box to find out about a waitressing job. We need someone fast, and if she can do it, I’d love to help her out. Tell her to stop by tomorrow morning.”

  “I will. I’ll bring her myself if I have to. That’s really nice of you, Paul. Seriously.”

  “No problem.”

  Silence fell. Katie was familiar with its tenor, the silence of two people with unfinished business who didn’t know what else to say to each other. She jangled the keys she’d extracted from her purse.

  “I guess that’s that, then.”

  Paul nodded.

  “I’ll see you around. If not at the Penalty Box tomorrow, then at Tuck’s game.”

  “Yup,” Paul said, studying his bare feet.

  He looked back up at her. What was going through his mind that could make him look so lost? Was he sad for himself? Tuck? Them ? If she asked, would he tell her? Would it be what she wanted to hear? Katie swallowed. “I have to go. Tuck’s waiting in the car.”

  Paul nodded, showing her to the door.

  “Drive safe,” he called after her as she made her way down the drive. Katie noticed the living room curtains across the street fluttering. Mrs. Greco. She waved and stepped into the car. It was time for both her and Tuck to begin the next phase of their lives.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 18

  “How do we kill her?” Bitsy whispered to Katie.

  Lolly, the Fat Fighters’s leader, had come to tonight’s meeting with two Tam-o-Shanter-clad, felt puppets named McFatty and McSkinny who spoke to each other in Scottish accents about making smart food choices.

  “You dinnae want to eat that fish and chips, lass, d’ya ken?”

  “Och, I’ll have a wee helping of veggies. And a dram of sparklin‘ mineral water.”

  When the puppet talk turned to the caloric hazards of haggis, Denise excused herself to go to the bathroom, never returning. Katie and Bitsy found her waiting for them at their usual booth at Tabitha’s. “We could stuff some oat cakes down her throat,” Denise suggested, shaking her head as if to disperse the memory of what they’d endured.

  “Death by bagpipes might be an option,” Katie added, fighting to keep her eyes open. Tuck’s departure had left her completely exhausted. Time felt bent. The day before, she hadn’t known what to do with herself. She was so used to taking Tuck to see Mina on Sunday that the prospect of a day with no plans made her nervous. Eager to escape her mother’s crying jags, she’d gone running until her limbs felt liquid, then came home and collapsed into a nap. Bad idea. The nap played havoc with her body clock, and she spent that night tossing and turning. When she finally did fall sleep, she dreamed Snake talked Tuck into getting two crossed hockey s
ticks tattoed on his forearm. She woke with a start and couldn’t fall back asleep.

  “Katie, I need to ask you something.” Bitsy’s train of thought was derailed by the waitress walking by with a freshly baked chocolate cake. “Yummm.”

  “A slice of that is at least six or seven hundred wee calories,” Denise said with a burr, admonishing Bitsy with a light slap to the wrist. “You’d have to spend an entire weekend on the treadmill to work that baby off.”

  “I ken, lass,” Bitsy joked back, her eyes glazed with desire.

  “Bitsy, dinnae,” Katie warned. “You’re only twelve pounds from your goal weight. Remember,” she added in Lolly’s voice, “thin tastes better.”

  “Than what?” Bitsy asked. The waitress now stood by their table. “The usual for me,” Bitsy told her. “Black coffee and—?” She looked at the other two. “What are we splitting tonight?”

  “A slice of apple pie,” Denise announced.

  “Oh, good,” said Bitsy as the waitress walked away. “That’s got fruit in it. It can’t be all bad.”

  Katie stifled a yawn. “What did you want to ask me, Bits?” If it wasn’t so rude she’d rest her head on the table.

  “You know how I’m a member of the youth hockey booster club, right?”

  Katie nodded.

  “We were trying to think of some ways to raise money apart from the usual car washes and candy drives. And we came up with a brilliant idea: a charity auction. We could auction off dinners at restaurants, quilts, a massage, and,” she lowered her voice, “a date with Paul van Dorn.” Bitsy looked uneasy. “What do you think?”

  Katie pushed out her lower lip nonchalantly and shrugged. “Sounds fine.”

  “You don’t mind sharing him for a night?” Bitsy asked. “It is for a good cause.”

  Bitsy and Denise knew nothing about her and Paul calling it quits. Now she’d have to tell them. “Paul and I broke up.”

  Denise gasped as if she’d just witnessed a shooting. “What happened?”

  “It wasn’t working,” said Katie, surprised at the small stab of pain she felt talking about it.