by Judy Duarte
“Good morning, Kristin.” His voice had grown deeper with age. Huskier. More able to strum upon her senses than it had in the past.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are we too early?”
“Not at all.” He opened the door, allowing her and Bobby to enter. “Come on in.”
Her son zipped right inside, eager to be in the fireman’s home, while Kristin moved slowly. She noted the hardwood entry, the Berber carpet, the beige sectional against the east wall, the glass-top coffee table, where a TV remote and a Sports Illustrated rested.
“It’s not much,” Joe said. “But it suits me.”
The living room was spacious and plain, with stark white walls—no artwork. The only notable decor item was a rectangular TV screen above the fireplace, like a painting. An elaborate stereo system—complete with surround sound, no doubt—sat near the dining area.
A sliding door led to the patio, where a red mountain bike was parked next to an elaborate gas barbecue grill.
Yet it was the deep blue waters of the bay that caught her attention and drew her to the glass door. “What a beautiful view.”
“You ought to see it at night.”
She looked over her shoulder, caught his gaze. Caught the subtle implication that she might like to be here one evening. With him. And the stunning view.
They both let the comment ride off into the sunset.
“That’s a cool bike,” Bobby said. “I got a bike, too.”
“Maybe we can take them out someday. To the park by the bay.” Joe glanced at Kristin, his eyes asking her permission.
“That would be way cool,” Bobby added. “Can we, Mom? Can Joe and I ride our bikes together?”
There was no reason why she should say no, but she’d never had to share her son before. She forced a smile. “We’ll have to discuss it. And check our calendars.”
Joe glanced at his wristwatch. “Well, I guess we’d better go.”
Kristin turned toward the door, but he stopped her. “Just a minute. I’m supposed to bring wine, soda and a couple bags of chips. It’s a potluck.”
A potluck? Kristin wished she would have known. She felt kind of awkward going to Harry’s house without taking anything special to contribute. In fact, just the thought made her feel like a party crasher. “If you would have told me sooner, I would have made a potato salad or a chocolate cake.”
“Maybe next time,” Joe said. Then he glanced at Bobby. “Why don’t you help me carry things out to the car?”
Kristin followed them to the kitchen, where Joe reached into the pantry and pulled out two bags of chips—plain and barbecue. He handed them to Bobby.
As a woman who loved to cook, Kristin always took note of the kitchen in a house. She scanned Joe’s countertops. Nothing fancy. Just a can opener and a coffeepot.
But near the sink, she spotted a silver-bangle wristwatch. It clearly wasn’t something a manly fireman would wear.
Who did the watch belong to? A cleaning lady? A neighbor?
A lover?
Joe pulled open the refrigerator door. The shelves were practically empty, except for some condiments, two bottles of wine, a case of Mexican beer, and several six-packs of soda.
He withdrew a chardonnay and placed it on the counter, then removed packs of cola and root beer.
“Let me carry something.” Kristin reached for the bottle of wine.
“All right.” Joe grabbed the soda. “Come on. Let’s go.”
As they left the kitchen, Kristin took one last glance at the wristwatch.
Somehow, she’d failed to consider the fact that Joe might have a woman in his life—maybe several—and for some illogical reason, it didn’t sit well with her, even though she had a fiancé of her own.
A wonderful fiancé, she reminded herself. A well-respected, down-to-earth doctor with a quick wit and a ready knowledge of psychology and human relationships. A handsome man who would be a perfect addition to her and Bobby’s lives.
So why the silly fascination with Joe?
Just curiosity, she supposed, and a case of auld lang syne. Every once in a while, when she thought of some classmate she’d gone to school with, she often wondered what he or she was doing now. This was no different.
So she tried her best to disassociate herself from the past and focus on the future.
But whenever her gaze drifted to the golden-haired fireman with the glimmering amber-colored eyes and bad-boy smile, her memories came crashing back, front and center.
As they pulled in front of the Logans’ two-story house on Bayside Drive, Joe parked, and they climbed from the Tahoe. Kristin continued to carry the bottle of wine, glad she could hold onto something and still sorry she hadn’t baked a cake or prepared an appetizer. She made a killer artichoke dip. And her crab salad always went over well.
At the elementary school where she worked, the teachers and staff often got together and had potlucks, which helped to create a better working environment for everyone.
Next time, if she ever had the opportunity to attend another Logan party, she would definitely bring something to show her appreciation.
The Logans were practically famous for their outdoor barbecues and their hospitality. At least they had been years ago, and Kristin doubted things had changed.
A floral welcome mat awaited them on the front steps, and Joe rang the bell. Moments later, Kay Logan answered.
Harry’s wife was an attractive, rosy-cheeked woman with copper-colored hair. She smiled warmly and gave Joe a big hug. “Who have you got here?”
Joe introduced the women, saying, “You may not remember, but you met once before. About eight years ago.”
“Of course.” The petite, older woman smiled at Kristin. “We’re always glad to have the boys bring along their friends.”
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Logan. Thanks for including us.”
The older woman took Kristin’s hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “Please call me Kay.”
Joe slipped an arm around their son’s shoulder. “This is Bobby. Kristin’s son.”
A twinge of guilt knotted in Kristin’s chest. The Logans were like family to Joe. And she knew he would have liked to have introduced Bobby as his son. But she couldn’t allow the Bayside community to know something her father had yet to learn.
“I’m so glad you came, Bobby.” Kay stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“Where would you like the wine?” Kristin asked.
“In the fridge for now.” Kay took the chips from Bobby, then touched Joe’s forearm. “Why don’t you boys take the sodas outside? Harry has a tub filled with ice on the porch.”
Kay led Kristin into the kitchen, a big, functional room with wallpaper trim in a violet motif. The white countertops boasted all of the appliances a woman who loved to cook and entertain would need.
“You have a lovely house,” Kristin commented. “And a great kitchen.”
“Thank you.” Kay grinned, her cheeks blushing with pride. “I want a place my kids can call home.”
As Kay put the wine in the refrigerator, Kristin glanced at the breakfast nook, a cheery sitting area with pale lavender walls and a large bay window framed by a valance of Irish lace.
The window looked out into a moderate-size yard filled with plants, ferns and palm trees—each one trimmed neatly. On the patio, a built-in barbecue grill sat amidst redwood furniture.
Joe stood next to Bobby, his hand resting proudly on his son’s shoulder. The man and boy looked remarkably alike, and she wasn’t so sure either Kay or Harry had failed to notice. But they hadn’t said anything. And neither would she. Not until her father’s health improved.
Not until the doctors felt confident enough to schedule the bypass surgery he needed.
As Harry shook Bobby’s small hand, his eyes sparkled with a sincere welcome. The retired detective appeared older than Kristin remembered—a bit more gray, his receding hairline more pronounced—but he was still tall and powerfully built.
She s
tood like that for a while, like a voyeur, until Kay’s voice drew her from the window. “You’re Thomas Reynolds’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am.”
“If I remember correctly, you used to date Joe. Years ago.”
Kristin nodded. “Before college.”
Before he grew tired of her.
“Joe was quite smitten with you,” Kay said with a knowing smile.
Kristin merely returned the smile, rather than utter the first thing that came to mind.
Joe hadn’t stayed smitten for long. He’d dumped her and broken her heart.
“Well,” Kay said, obviously taking Kristin’s silence as a hint to change the conversation to a more appropriate topic. “I doubt Joe will appreciate my rambling off like that. Can I pour you a glass of wine? Or a soda?”
“Actually, I’m fine for now. Thank you.”
“Well, in that case,” Kay said. “Let’s go outside and join the men.”
Joe watched, as Kristin stepped onto the patio. The sun glistened off the gold highlights in her honey-blond hair. She’d always been pretty. Classy. The kind of woman a man like him shouldn’t even dream about having at his side.
She wore a pale yellow dress today. Linen, he guessed. Pearl earrings and a necklace reminded him that she was a lady made for a different life than he could have offered her.
And the past eight years had only made her prettier. More classy. More out of reach.
Still, just looking at her made his pulse do all kinds of crazy things.
“Kristin,” he said, trying to shake off a goofy adolescent reaction. “You remember Harry Logan, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.” She extended her hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
“This is Kristin Reynolds,” Joe told the retired detective.
If Harry held any animosity toward Kristin’s old man, as Joe still did, he didn’t show it. “I’m glad you could join us, Kristin. Can I get you a soda? A beer? Maybe a glass of wine?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “Not yet.”
A doorbell sounded, followed by Nick Granger’s voice. “Anybody home?”
Nick had once been a delinquent, like Joe. But, thanks to Harry, he was now a detective with the San Diego Police Department. And he was also the Logans’ new son-in-law, having married Harry’s daughter, Hailey.
Joe introduced Kristin to an obviously pregnant Hailey, and the women seemed to hit it off. Well, at least that’s how it seemed when Kristin asked Hailey when the baby was due. Women sure seemed to get a kick out of talking about stuff like that.
Before long, the house and yard were filled with friendly faces and good-natured laughs of the guys who’d once had troubled backgrounds, like Joe’s. Years ago, they’d been dubbed Logan’s Heroes by the men on the police force because of Harry’s interest in the angry misfits. The moniker had been made tongue in cheek, until one by one, the delinquents each turned their sorry lives around and become heroes in real life.
The guys had found a family with the Logans and had bonded with each other. There wasn’t anything Joe wouldn’t do for Harry, Kay or any one of the men Joe thought of as his brothers. And he knew each of them would do the same for him.
Brett Tanner, a Navy helicopter pilot, walked outside, tossing a Nerf football in his hand. “Anyone up for a game?”
“I am!” Bobby shouted.
A sense of pride settled over Joe, and he wished he could introduce the boy as his son. But he and Kristin had made a bargain, which he meant to keep—unless she failed to keep her part of the agreement.
But either way, he had big plans to play catch-up in his relationship with Bobby. And nothing would stand in his way.
Kristin laughed at something Hailey said, and Joe couldn’t help but stare. Nor could he help but admire the lilt of her voice. The way she carried herself in a crowd.
“Heads up,” Brett called to Joe, as Bobby’s launch of the blue, lightweight ball zoomed out of bounds.
Joe snagged it in the air, then passed it right back to his son, joining in the game.
Bobby had good hands for a kid. A chip off the old block, Joe supposed, unable to wipe the sappy grin from his face.
Before long, a major Nerf Super Bowl erupted on the lawn. Laughter broke out, as the men reined in their normally competitive streaks whenever Bobby was in the play.
Several plays later, Joe noticed a big grass stain on the knee of Bobby’s khaki dress slacks. Kristin, who had always dressed like a fashion plate, had transferred her taste and choice in clothing to Bobby. The poor kid looked as if he’d stepped out of a kid’s wear catalogue. Too bad she couldn’t let their son be a kid.
Of course, Joe didn’t want to rock the boat right off, so he decided to buy some jeans, T-shirts and sneakers to keep at his house, stuff normal kids wore because playing rough and getting dirty was a given.
At least Kristin wasn’t harping on the boy about staying clean and spiffy.
After a handoff to Bobby, Joe blocked Nick, allowing the boy to run up the middle and score. It always felt good to play ball with the men he thought of as brothers. But even more so to include his son in their camaraderie.
Joe glanced at Kristin, spotted her smiling at something Kay said. He hoped it wouldn’t be long before she agreed to tell Bobby the truth, because he was tired of sitting on the sidelines.
Joe Davenport was ready for the world to know he had a son.
As the afternoon sun lowered in the western sky, the scent of charcoal and the aroma of burgers sizzling on the grill filled the air.
“Are you ready for something to drink now?” Kay asked Kristin, while the women sat outside on the redwood furniture.
“Sure. Wine sounds good.”
“I have a merlot, the chardonnay you bought, or some white zinfandel,” Kay said. “Which would you prefer?”
Kristin had taken a Wines and Foods of Italy class through the extended studies department of the college back home. And she’d grown to appreciate the taste, especially when having a special dinner. But it wasn’t as though she had a real yearning to have a glass now. She would probably nurse it all afternoon. “How about the merlot?”
“You’ve got it.” Kay turned to Hailey. “Can I get you something, too, honey? I’ve got milk and juice.”
Hailey rubbed her pregnant tummy and smiled. “Apple or orange juice sounds good, if you have one or the other.”
“I have both,” Kay said proudly. “Your father loves his juice in the morning. And I know how much you enjoy it, too.”
“Then make it apple,” Hailey said.
Kay left the two women sitting under the shade of a maple tree in the yard.
“Your parents are really special,” Kristin said.
Hailey nodded. “They are at that. My mother passed away a few years ago, but Kay has accepted me as the daughter she never had.”
Kristin hadn’t realized Hailey, who’d been introduced to her as the Logans’ daughter, wasn’t a child of their union. But she wasn’t surprised. The Logans had opened their hearts and their home to a lot of people, particularly to the guys like Joe.
Harry and Kay had made a big impact on Joe’s life, as well as the lives of most everyone here. And as far as Kristin was concerned, the older couple deserved a special place in heaven for their efforts.
She looked at the guys playing football with her son, knowing that they’d gone out of their way to make him feel like a part of the team—a lesson they’d no doubt learned from Harry and his wife.
And strangely enough, as the afternoon wore on, she felt as though she belonged here, too.
She’d met a lot of new faces today, including Hailey’s husband Nick. She’d also been introduced to Brett Tanner, a Navy helicopter pilot, and Luke Wynters, an E.R. doctor at Oceana General Hospital. And those were just the names she could remember right off.
Surprisingly, the lazy afternoon spent with the Logans was one of the most pleasant outings she’d had in a long time. Eve
ryone had made her feel welcome, although she still would have preferred to have placed her own homemade dish on the buffet table in the yard. But she no longer felt out of place.
Kay walked out the sliding glass door, with a full glass of apple juice in one hand and a goblet of red wine in the other. Kristin got up from her seat and met the woman halfway.
“Let me take that,” Kristin said, accepting the wineglass. “Are you having something to drink?”
“Yes,” Kay said. “I’ve got an iced tea in the kitchen.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Thanks.”
As Kristin made her way across the yard, one of the guys hollered, “Watch out. Don’t hit Joe’s lady.”
Joe’s lady?
That couldn’t be further from the truth, yet the term slid over her like a black, slinky negligee. She glanced at Joe, wondering whether he’d set the guys straight. But he didn’t say a word. And she wasn’t sure whether she should be happy or annoyed.
She found Kay’s iced tea on the counter, picked it up and carried it, along with her glass of wine, back outside.
From out of nowhere, a spiraling blue blur came flying toward her, followed by a shadowed hulk. Upon impact, she fell to the ground with a thud. When her head cleared and her eyes opened, she found Joe hovering over her.
“Oh, God, Kristin. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” She held an empty wineglass in her hand. Kay’s drink had slipped from her grip, shattered on the porch and sent tea, ice cubes and shards of glass across the concrete slab.
But for some reason, she couldn’t seem to focus on the mess or on the awkward position she was in.
Not while Joe leaned over her, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes wide and full of remorse mingled with compassion. His sea-breezy scent taunted her senses and set off a flurry of pheromones that dazzled her and left her speechless.
“Did I hurt you?”
Not this time. But eight years ago, you knocked me for a loop and shattered my heart. She managed a smile. “I’m just a bit shaken up. And embarrassed. But I’m all right.”
“I’m really sorry, Kristin.” Joe took her by the hand and helped her get to her feet, then his eyes lowered.
