by Eve Gaddy
“Mom used to make that,” Cole said. “I remember she said it was her fa—”
Jack put his hand on Cole’s shoulder and squeezed. “Your dinner’s getting cold.”
Cole looked at him a minute, then at Ava, and grinned. “Oh, okay. I get it.” He finished the sandwich in a couple of bites. “Thanks, Dad.” He put his dishes in the dishwasher. “Is it okay if I leave now?”
“Sure.”
Sticking his hands in his pockets he hesitated. “Could I spend the night at Brad’s?”
“Which one is Brad?”
“You know. Brad Abernathy. You met his dad last weekend. You said you liked him.”
“I did. Are you sure his parents are going to be there?”
Cole groaned. “Yes, Dad. But I’ll give you his number if you want to call.”
“Thanks.” But since Cole had volunteered the phone number it probably wasn’t necessary to call. “Have fun.”
“Thanks. Bye, Ava.”
“Bye, have fun.”
Jack stared after him. Maybe he should call, just to be certain.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just…” He trailed off, not wanting to get into another discussion of the woes of single parenting.
“Going to a movie and spending the night out doesn’t seem like something to worry a lot about.”
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t.” He shrugged and turned back to the stove, stirring the savory dish before covering it again and letting it simmer. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. “Cole got into trouble last year. It’s why we moved. So I’ve had to be more careful to make sure he’s doing what he says he’s doing. And that parents are around. Parties without adults are an invitation to disaster.”
“He seems like a good kid. Was it bad, the trouble he was in?”
“No, but only because I caught him before it had gone very far.”
“Girls?”
“No. At least, I don’t think girls are the problem yet. He got in with a wild crowd, experimented with pot. He said it was the first time.”
“But you’re not so sure.”
He lifted a shoulder. “What parent ever is?”
“Not being a parent, I wouldn’t know. But I can imagine how hard it must be having to do it all on your own.”
“Sometimes it is. Especially when there are problems.” He turned back around. “I think the worst thing is not having anyone to share responsibility with. But I didn’t ask you over to hear about my kid and our problems.” He pulled off the lid and got a fork out to give her a bite of the chicken.
“You said that before and I told you, I like your son. I don’t mind listening to you talk about him.” She sniffed delicately then took the offering. “Oh, this tastes like heaven. I thought you’d have red meat so I brought a burgundy.”
“That’s perfect with coq au vin, too.”
She leaned against the counter and shot him an assessing glance. “So did you make this to impress me? I have to tell you, it’s working.”
He smiled. “Good. That was the plan.” He got out a corkscrew and opened the wine, pouring two glasses. Handing her one he clinked his against it gently. “To smooth sailing and clear skies.”
They both sipped their wine. “Was that a double entendre?” Ava asked.
“No. But it can be if you want it to be.”
She laughed and shook her head. Jack stirred the chicken and put the lid back on. “It doesn’t need much longer. Why don’t we sit down?”
They both sat. He liked the way she looked at his kitchen table. Maybe too much. It’s just a date, he reminded himself. Not a big deal. A platonic date at that. It’s not like she was signing on to be the mother of his future children.
“Do you cook a lot?” she asked him.
“Some. Usually quick and easy stuff.”
“I rarely cook. When I was young I had to make dinner for the family all the time. My mother…well, she was gone more often than not. So it fell to me. Mark tried but he was never very good. I usually just made sandwiches.” She put her wine glass down and traced a finger around the rim. “The night I ran away from home, I made my father a turkey sandwich. Let’s just say he didn’t care for it and he let me know it. I haven’t been able to look at one since.”
“I’m sorry.” He covered her hand. He was ridiculously pleased that she’d opened to him, even just a little.
Her gaze softened as she looked at him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Are you always so nice?”
He flashed her a wicked grin. “I wouldn’t say I qualified for sainthood.” Not if she knew what he thought about almost every time he saw her.
He patted her hand and got up. “Let’s eat.”
She got up and followed him into the kitchen. He popped the bread in the oven and quickly set the table. Topped their glasses off and pulled out her chair with a flourish.
“I can get my food. You don’t have to wait on me,” she said.
“I don’t mind. Sit.”
Looking a bit amused, she did. “You’re very bossy, you know that?”
“Sorry. Comes from having a kid.” He prepared both their plates and set them on the table, then got the bread out of the oven and set it on the table as well.
“Dig in,” he said, taking his seat.
“It looks wonderful.” She took a bite and closed her eyes, obviously savoring the flavors. “And it tastes wonderful, too.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her lips softly curving, her eyes luminous. “You went to an awful lot of trouble. Thanks.”
“It was nothing.” He stared at her a moment, watching her eat. Thinking how pretty she looked, wondering what it would be like if she was there more often. Better watch out, he told himself. She’d made it very clear she wanted no entanglements. And he had Cole to worry about. The last thing he needed was to get all twisted up over a woman. A woman who didn’t want to get involved.
But damn, he was beginning to realize that he did.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AVA GLANCED OUT the window at Mark’s house for at least the fifth time since she and Jack had started washing the dishes. Mark had said their mother was coming in from Dallas this weekend, but he hadn’t specified which day. Not that she wanted to see her. She was simply curious. Who wouldn’t be curious after all these years?
Her mother would be in her sixties now. It was odd to think of her as older since she remained frozen in her mind as the age she’d been when Ava had left, much as her brothers had until she met them again. She could still see her, slipping away and hiding from her husband, instead of standing up to him as Ava had always wished she would.
“See anything interesting?” Jack handed her the pan lid to dry.
He hadn’t wanted her to help wash up but she’d insisted. It had seemed like the least she could do after the wonderful meal he’d made for them. Not many men had cooked for her. Certainly not her ex-husband. He’d considered it torture.
Jack, however, seemed almost too good to be true. If that were so, though, why hadn’t he married again after his wife died? She imagined that a lot of women would be willing to step into his late wife’s shoes. He was a nice man, worked hard, loved his child. And the good looks didn’t hurt a thing either. Still, he’d clearly loved his wife. Maybe he just wasn’t ready.
She had a feeling when Jack fell, he’d want the whole thing. He’d had it all once, he would want it again. Deserved to have it again.
She glanced at Mark’s house, dark and quiet. “No one’s home,” she said, realizing she’d never answered him.
“They’re in Dallas. They went to see Mark’s— I mean, they went to see your mother.”
She dried the lid and set it on the counter. “Mark told me she was coming here this weekend.”
“I guess she changed her mind.”
Because Ava had refused to see her? Or maybe it had nothing to do with Ava. Lillian had
a different life now, after all. A different husband, according to Mark. Whatever the reason, though, Ava was glad she didn’t have to face her. “Mark and Jay want me to see her.”
Jack stopped washing a moment and turned to face her. “And you didn’t want to.”
Ava shook her head. “Not only that but…I can’t see her.”
He rinsed soap off the pan and handed it to her. “I guess that’s why they went there, then.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I know this isn’t my business but I can’t help thinking twenty some-odd years is a long time to carry a grudge. Have you thought about reconciling?”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”
She laughed. “You can’t possibly be interested in this.”
“I’m interested in everything about you, Ava.”
He said it quietly, sincerely, and held her gaze as he did so. Searching his eyes, she didn’t see judgment or condemnation. She saw compassion.
Maybe she should talk to Jack. God knows she needed someone to talk to and she sure as hell couldn’t talk to her brothers about their mother. Because Jack wasn’t family, he didn’t have an emotional stake in the whole process. She needed objectivity and Jack could supply it.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind… I think I’d like to talk to you about it.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to hear it.” He poured them each another glass of wine and picked them up. “Let’s go in the den. We’ll be more comfortable in there. Or at least, we will if Cole picked up his video games and controllers like I told him to.”
She took a seat on the couch and Jack sat beside her. She started to lean back but something hard poked her in the small of her back. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a video game controller.
“Sorry. I guess he missed that one.” He took it from her and set it on the coffee table.
Sipping her wine, Ava thought about how to start. Obviously, she couldn’t tell Jack everything but she had to tell him some of it if she expected him to understand.
“Do you get along with your parents?”
“Most of the time. They moved to Colorado several years ago, so I don’t see them very often. They come here for holidays and I’ve sent Cole to stay with them during the summer several times.”
“Did he go this summer?”
“No, we moved instead.”
“What about when you were young? Did you get along with your parents then?”
“We had the usual arguments. Nothing major.” He chuckled reminiscently. “I was an only child and they were pretty easy on me. Except there were a few times when I really made my dad mad.” He shook his head. “Not a smart thing to do.”
She hadn’t considered she might be probing his old wounds. “Did he hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” He stared at her, then said slowly, “You mean did he beat me? You think I’d send Cole to him if he’d been abusive?”
“It happens.”
“Not to me, it didn’t. My father is nothing like that. He just made me really sorry I screwed up. Ashamed, and sorry I’d disappointed him. It’s a nice trick. I wish I had it with Cole.”
“Are you sure you don’t?” she asked, momentarily diverted from her point.
Jack shrugged. “I can make him sorry he did something by grounding him, but I’m not sure about the sorry he disappointed me.”
“Maybe you’re too hard on him. He’s a good kid, Jack.”
“I never said he wasn’t.” He snapped it out, clearly irritated.
Ava decided she’d be wise to drop the subject. No one liked their parenting skills called into question, especially by someone who didn’t even have children. “So you’d say you had a nice, normal family life?”
“Yeah.” He paused a moment before adding, “I know you didn’t.”
“My father was abusive. And my mother knew it.”
“Abusive how?”
“Verbally, for the most part.” Until that last night. “I don’t know what he was like after I left, but Mark and Jay told me he didn’t beat them. I don’t imagine he quit verbally abusing them.”
She bit her lip and continued. “My mother knew all this. She knew how he was and instead of throwing him out, she tried to placate him. When that didn’t work, she escaped and left us to deal with him. She was always working for some charity and leaving us at home. Especially after she had Jay and Brian. Mark and I were always babysitting. Our father would come home and hit the roof that she was gone. He’d take it out on us. Especially Mark.”
“I’m not saying your mother was right, but maybe she was afraid of him. A lot of women are afraid to leave their abusers. If he was whaling on her she might have been afraid he’d kill her if she tried to leave.”
“I don’t think he hit her, either. I never saw it anyway. No, he was emotionally abusive. Not physically. At least, not until the night I left.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “He beat me black and blue with his fists at first, then he got out a belt. For the finale he kicked me and broke some ribs. He damn near killed me. I don’t know how he didn’t.”
Jack looked sick and angry. “You mean to tell me your mother was there when he beat you? And didn’t do anything? Didn’t try to stop him?”
“No, she was gone as usual. No one was home. Mark would have protected me if he’d known. Or tried.” But thank God, he’d been gone. She knew what their father would have done to Mark if he’d tried to interfere.
“So she didn’t know what he’d done to you.”
“I don’t know.” Grimacing, she rubbed her temples. It was impossible to say what her mother had known or hadn’t known. “Mark says she didn’t. None of them did. And my father sure wouldn’t have told them.”
“Maybe you should hear her side of it. I have to tell you that as a parent I can’t think of anything worse than my child running away and never being heard from again. God, that’s a horrible thought.”
“You’re not like my mother. You’re obviously a good father. It’s clear in everything you do that you’re crazy about Cole.”
“I love him, sure. But I make mistakes. A lot of them. I think part of the reason he got in with a bad crowd was because I was working all the time.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I can’t tell you how guilty I feel about that.”
“Why did you work all the time? Didn’t you want to be with your son?”
He looked shocked. “Of course I did. I was trying to support us. The charter fishing business is time consuming, if you’re successful.”
“But you quit. And took another kind of job. You did something about the problem. You moved and changed jobs so you could be there for your son. Didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah. But I’m his father. I’m all he has. I’m supposed to be there for him.”
“Not everyone does what they’re supposed to do, Jack.” She knew that better than anyone.
“I think most people do. If they can. You don’t really know what went on with your mother. For your peace of mind you might consider finding out. I think you’re waffling and you just need a good reason to go ahead and see her. Hearing her side of the story might be that reason. And maybe you need to tell her your side of what happened, since you never have.”
“I’m not waffling. I told Mark from the first I wouldn’t see her.”
“Then why are we even talking about it?”
She eyed him irritably. Coming back to Texas and finding her brothers had stirred up emotions she thought she’d put away. She hadn’t realized how much anger and resentment she still carried toward her mother because she hadn’t been forced to think about her until now. “I really hate this.”
“What, that you think I’m right?”
“Yes. It’s very annoying.”
He took her hands, gave them a comforting squeeze. “Think about it. You don’t have to do anything now. If it was your father, I wouldn’t be arguing with you. I’d think you were
crazy if you wanted to see him again. But if you could reconcile with your mother, or at least meet with her and let her see you, I think you’d feel better. Otherwise it’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life. It already has, hasn’t it?”
“That’s not what haunts me.” The words were out before she could stop them. Horrified at what she’d nearly let slip, she jumped up and paced to the window, turning her back on Jack.
A moment later, she felt his hand on her shoulder. “What does haunt you, Ava?” he asked quietly.
She let her head fall back. God, talk about a quick end to a budding relationship. All she had to do was tell him her history and he’d run so fast the other way she’d get windburn. And though it might be the best thing, she wasn’t ready for what they had to be over.
She didn’t want it to be over, she realized, because she wanted more. More than friendship, she wanted to be lovers. Which was about the worst thing she could do, but that didn’t change what she wanted.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“If you ever want to—”
“I don’t.” She turned and looked at him. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what my life was like. It was nothing like what you have with your son. Nothing like what you had with your wife.”
“What I had with her wasn’t perfect.”
“Maybe not.” The question came out before she could stop it. “Are you still in love with her?”
“With Cynthia?” He looked surprised, then smiled, a tender, loving smile. “I’ll always love Cynthia. But it’s been six years, Ava. I’m ready to move on.”
He was looking at her as if she had all the answers. Worse, as if she was the answer. “Be careful what you ask for.”
“Because I might get it?” he asked, his voice deep and husky.
He was close. So close she could feel his breath, warm and inviting against her lips. Almost as if he were kissing her. She wanted, badly, to kiss him. Wanted to forget, for even a moment, what she’d done.
What she’d been.
“Stop me now,” he murmured.
She should. She knew she should, but she didn’t.
He framed her face with his hands. His mouth lowered, his eyes locked with hers, then he captured her mouth and kissed her. Long, slow and deep.
