by Susan Crosby
She tried not to laugh. Tried hard. She’d almost succeeded when he started whistling “Ain’t She Sweet.”
She laughed then, and shoved him. His eyes twinkled.
“Why aren’t you home, putting your son to bed?” she asked, choosing a safe topic.
“The party isn’t over. He’s still playing. Your gift was perfect, Laura. It opened him up. Did you notice that?”
She’d noticed he’d gotten more comfortable as the evening went along, but didn’t consider her gift the catalyst. “I probably should’ve asked you first if you objected to toy swords.”
“I don’t know what I do or don’t object to yet. I’m taking it day by day. But as a former boy myself, I think it’s fine.” He was quiet for a while, then, “He called me Dad.”
She heard the emotion in his voice. “I gathered that was the first time. It was kind of cute how he called you Donovan.”
“It sounded really strange, coming from him. I have to keep reminding myself that he just lost his mother, and I need to be careful not to push him about anything. It was spontaneous. We hadn’t talked about what he should call me.”
She squeezed his arm. They walked along in silence for a block or so.
“You don’t like crowds much, do you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you claustrophobic?”
She could say yes, use it as an excuse, but it wasn’t the truth. “No.”
“I’ve seen you at a lot of events, large and small. You’re never in the middle of the action.”
“Is that worthy of a headline?”
“I’m curious. You’re personable, you don’t seem shy, yet you hang back.”
A lot of people jumped to incorrect conclusions about her, mostly based on her pageant wins, as if that would turn her into an extrovert. She’d entered pageants to earn prize money and scholarships, and had come out at the end of law school debt-free. Not many people could say that.
“I apologize, Laura,” he said. “That probably sounded like criticism. I really am just curious. I mean, you go to these events, but don’t participate, so, naturally, I wonder why.”
“Sometimes someone railroads me into going,” she said, eyeing him. “Even uses a child to do it.”
“I’m always looking toward the goal. That’s my fatal flaw.”
“You mean winning.”
“Is there a difference?”
They kept walking, past homes where children played in front yards and parents sat on porch swings, watching. Most people waved. Small Town, U.S.A. It did still exist. Not that everything was perfect. There was crime, of course, but people really did look out for each other.
“Want to stop by Jake and Keri’s new house? Peek in the windows?” Donovan asked.
“Sure.”
Suddenly the quiet between them seemed peaceful. Natural. She relaxed.
“This is nice,” he said after a while.
“Yes.”
Silence again. And it was okay again. When they reached the house, they walked up the steps to the porch. The curtains were pulled aside.
“Looks like we’ll be having a garage sale,” Donovan said, peering in. “Jake said the house comes as is. That’s a lot of furniture in there.”
“Old furniture.”
“Antique?” he asked.
“Maybe, but doubtful. If it’d been valuable, someone in the family would’ve taken it out. You’ve all got a lot of work ahead of you.”
“You wanna come help?” He bumped shoulders with her. “I could line you up with a pressure washer. You could wear your world-famous bikini and spray down the siding.”
She shook her head. “You never give up.”
“There’ll be time for that when I die.”
She admired his attitude, frankly, but she wasn’t about to give him ammunition when he created enough on his own. “I’ll be helping Keri, I’m sure, but it’ll be after work hours. I’m in Sacramento two or three days a week, remember.” Maybe she would invite everyone for a swim when they were done. She could pick up food from a deli near work and bring it home with her.
“I’ve noticed that you and Keri, and Dixie, too, for that matter, have been hanging out,” he said.
“Yes.” She’d been making an effort to have girlfriends, something she’d been missing, always afraid to reveal herself to anyone. Almost every relationship she had was superficial, and she’d come to recognize that—and be appalled by it, even though she knew the reasons why.
“That’s it?” Donovan asked. “‘Yes’?”
“Yes, I have been hanging out with them more,” she said, teasing him.
“You are tough. I’d like to see you in action in a courtroom.”
“I don’t end up there often. Only if a divorce case gets really nasty and we have to take it to court to resolve it. I pride myself on being able to get people to come to a determination without it going that far, though. Most of the time I can follow through.”
He sat on the top step, inviting her with a gesture to join him.
“Is that part of your reputation, then? Negotiating amicable divorces?” he asked, waving at a couple out walking.
“Those are also extremely rare. A couple may start out thinking they can keep things cool between them, but it doesn’t always work. Where emotions are involved, there’s always reaction. Plus, friends and family interfere, as well, a big cause of difficult divorces. But I do my best to keep things on task, especially where kids are involved. So many of them get so hurt.”
“Did you become a divorce lawyer because of your own parents’ divorce?”
She tucked her hands in her lap. “I do family law, which isn’t exclusively divorces, but pretty much you’re right. It was ugly.”
“So that’s what drives you?”
“Partly. Been there, done that. It helps.”
“You never saw your father again?”
She pulled her body closer, clasping her hands tighter, leaning forward more. “No. Never.”
“Do you know if he’s alive? If you have half siblings somewhere?”
“I have no idea.”
“Never wanted to find out?”
She eyed him directly. “Hey, newsman, just because you have a huge, loving family doesn’t mean those of us who don’t are searching for that. I’ve never felt denied.”
He hesitated a few beats. “You’re right. I apologize. And, believe me, sometimes I think you’re the lucky one.”
She would like to see him at work. He adjusted quickly to changes in conversation and situations, probably a critical skill for a top-notch journalist who needed to experience something in order to write about it to his personal standards, especially in war-torn countries.
Laura admired that about him. A lot. The list of pros about him kept growing.
She stood. “You should probably head back so you can tuck your son into bed. I’m fine walking home from here.”
“It’s on my way back to Mom’s.” He stood, as well, then placed his hand on the small of her back as they headed up the walkway.
As it had earlier, the touch of his fingers sent her pulse racing. Need filled her, almost painfully.
Maybe she would be the one to fire him as a client….
She stopped that thought cold. “How do you think Ethan is going to react to Millie leaving? Has he talked about it with you?”
“He alternates between being okay with it, probably because he’s been so busy, and being sad. He understands that she’s going. I don’t think he really understands how far away she’ll be, and that she can’t just drop in. Fortunately, we’ll have Jake’s new house to work on, and then getting settled in the cabin, and then kindergarten. It should keep him busy.”
“So, you’re not going to take him away for a while?”
“I decided not to. We’ll have privacy at the cabin. And he’ll need people around him, too. He tends to seek out women. That’s his comfort level. I don’t want to interfere with that transition. I don
’t know, Laura, I’m just trying my best to figure out what works. I’m used to knowing what I’m doing. I’m not sleeping well, I can tell you that.”
They reached her house and stopped at the head of the brick walkway. “Thanks for the company,” she said. If she’d had pockets, she would’ve stuffed her hands in them. She clenched them into fists instead. “I’ll give you a call when your paperwork is ready.”
He did jam his hands in his pockets. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He took a step closer, still staring, slowly moving up to her eyes.
She waited, logic having taken a vacation from her brain, desire filling the space instead. She’d always loved his mouth….
“Good night,” he said. He eased around her and headed down the street.
Laura let out a long, slow breath. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it bad. She would’ve let him, too, right there on the street in front of her house. In public.
Shocked at herself, she moved toward her house. Her phone was ringing when she opened her front door. When she picked it up, all she heard was someone whistling “Ain’t She Sweet.” She listened until he let the last note fade out into one long, drawn-out sound. She hung up the phone gently.
It should’ve made her smile. Instead, her throat burned and a lump formed. She went into her office and pulled her high school yearbooks off the shelf, sat cross-legged on the floor and thumbed through them, something she hadn’t done in years—probably since she’d graduated.
Her hair was perfect in every photograph she came across of herself, her smile exactly the same. Her pageant smile, she realized. Teeth showing, eyes vacant. She found Donovan’s senior portrait. He looked confident. Cocky. She found other pictures of him—student-body president, newspaper editor, debate team, homecoming king. Big man on campus.
She closed her eyes, remembering the day she’d finally worked up the nerve to approach him. Lots of boys had pursued her, but she knew it wasn’t for her mind. Donovan hadn’t given her a second glance, which was probably why she wanted him. She figured he would appreciate that she had a brain and could use it, not be intimidated by her. And she thought he was the hottest guy on campus, wanted him without knowing exactly what it was she was wanting. She knew the basics of the birds and bees, but she’d had no idea she could lose all common sense over a guy.
He certainly had no idea how much it had cost her to go up to him in the school parking lot and introduce herself. Determined not to wait a day longer, she’d been waiting for an hour before he finally showed. His was the last car there.
“I know who you are,” he’d said.
“I really like you,” she’d blurted.
“Uh. Okay.” He jingled his keys in his pocket and looked around. Now she could recognize that he’d been looking for someone to rescue him from an awkward situation. But that was then.
Maybe a smart girl would’ve noticed and not forced the issue. She was smart, but not about boys. “I’d like to kiss you.”
His eyes widened. He took a step back. But she lunged, planting her mouth on his. He grabbed her arms and moved her away from him. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “Are you crazy?”
She was. Crazy in love with a boy she knew nothing about, just that she wanted to be with him. “You don’t have a girlfriend. I asked.”
“So?”
“So, how about me?”
He frowned. “What are you offering, exactly?”
“What would you like?”
Laura could almost laugh about it now. She’d been so naïve. Her knowledge of sex was minimal, just a concept she’d seen in books and movies. She didn’t understand the emotional commitment it entailed, good or bad.
“Look,” he’d said calmly, being much more mature than she. “I’m flattered, okay? But you’re too young, you know?”
He’d softened the blow by telling her that. She recognized now he’d just been being kind to her, letting her down easy.
“And in two months,” he’d added, “I’ll be out of here. I’m not coming back.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s nothing here for me except my family. I want to travel the world. I want to do something important. Don’t you?”
She hadn’t known yet. She was only a freshman in high school. How could she know what she wanted three years down the road? Still, she would have two months to change his mind. If she worked at it, she could do that.
“I want to be with you,” she said.
“I don’t know how else to tell you I’m not interested,” he said, clenching his jaw, his frustration with her finally letting loose. Then he’d gotten into his car and driven away, leaving her standing in the empty parking lot, her face red, her heart broken. She’d never approached a boy again. Never went on a date in high school. Lots of boys looked, but none of them asked her out. She had an invisible Go Away sign on her forehead.
Then a month after she graduated, she learned she had uterine cancer, a secret only she and her mother knew. Her world had turned upside down, and hadn’t fully righted itself since.
And now family man Donovan McCoy was the last man she should get involved with.
The problem was—she wanted him as much now as she had at fifteen. She should be discouraging him, but she couldn’t seem to do that as she could with any other man.
She closed the yearbooks and set them aside. She couldn’t have him then because he had bigger plans for himself. She shouldn’t have him now because he would want more than she could offer.
That left her stuck in limbo, attracted but unable to act on it. And dangerously close to falling in love with a man she shouldn’t love, one who shouldn’t love her back.
Because she could never give him what he wanted most, even if he didn’t realize it yet—a family.
Chapter Eight
T he night was mid-July hot. No breeze stirred the air. The sun would set in an hour, bringing a welcome drop in temperature. Until then, Laura’s swimming pool was the best place to be.
Donovan sat on the edge with Joe, their feet in the water, which couldn’t really be called cool. Wearing a life vest, Ethan clung to Donovan’s ankles and bobbed in the water. A few teenage nieces and nephews played Marco Polo at the other end.
Most of the family had spent the past two days sanding, painting, cleaning and decluttering. They would hold a garage sale the next day, Saturday. Aggie would run the show. She loved wheeling and dealing.
Joe elbowed him. “Are you as disappointed as I am?”
“About what?”
“That Laura’s wearing a one-piece bathing suit.”
Donovan studied her as she refilled a potato-chip bowl and talked to Keri, who had Isabella in her arms. No, he wasn’t disappointed—well, he was disappointed for himself, but he was content that no one else was seeing her that way. She wore not only a one-piece but a loose, hot-pink blouse over the plain black suit.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” he finally said to Joe, who laughed. He’d obviously been goading Donovan.
“Much,” Donovan amended. It’d been a nice surprise when she’d stopped by Jake and Keri’s house to invite them all for dinner and a swim when they were done. About half of the family accepted the offer. The pool was full.
Nana Mae came through the back door then, Dixie with her. Dixie hadn’t been able to help much with the house because she attended cosmetology school in Sacramento during the day, but she would undoubtedly help over the weekend. Despite the awkwardness between her and Joe since she’d broken off their engagement, she was still one of the family. Longevity counted.
Guilt dropped over Donovan’s shoulders as he watched Nana Mae settle in a chair. He hadn’t spent any time alone with her since Ethan had arrived. Donovan needed to change that before she started giving him The Look, the one she’d directed at any of them when they’d misbehaved as kids. The Look was much more effective than anything she might shout.
Too late, he realized. She was giving him The Look right then. Even f
rom across the pool he could see her crystal-blue eyes firing displeasure at him. Donovan had been on the receiving end of that particular expression much more than the rest of his siblings.
“Come in the water with me and play,” Ethan said. He’d stayed close to Donovan ever since they’d taken Millie to the airport that morning, but hadn’t called him Dad again yet.
“Please,” Donovan reminded his son.
“Pretty please, with a cherry on top.”
Donovan slipped into the pool. Ethan climbed on his back and clung to his neck, his chin resting on Donovan’s shoulder.
“I miss Grammy,” he said.
“Of course you do.”
“When can I see her again?”
“Probably at Christmas. But you can call her, you know.”
“Now?”
“She isn’t home yet. It takes a long time to get to England from here. She’ll call us when she’s home.”
Ethan moved his hands from Donovan’s neck to his shoulders, relaxing a little. “Let’s go pull Laura into the water and play with her.”
The idea appealed to Donovan, too, although differently. “An excellent plan, my boy.” He swam quietly toward where she’d taken a seat on the edge, watching Jake dipping Isabella in the water, her arms and legs moving wildly, splashing water everywhere.
“Laur-a!” Ethan shouted in a singsong voice. “We’re coming to get you.”
Donovan grabbed her ankle before she could get away. She yelped. Ethan giggled, a joyful sound to Donovan’s ears. Then she fell into the water with a splat, sputtering as she surfaced.
“We got you,” Ethan said happily.
“His idea,” Donovan added.
“And a four-year-old boy holds all the power? You couldn’t say no?” She shoved her hair out of her eyes, and kept that now-familiar forced smile on her face.
“I’m almost five.”
“Yeah. He’s almost five.” Donovan loved when she got on her high horse about something.
She tried to pull off her wet blouse. Donovan helped her, then tossed it onto the deck. By the time she turned around, any signs of annoyance were gone. She stole Ethan away from him, and they went off and played. Appreciating how she’d turned the tables on him—and knowing when to admit defeat—he got out of the pool and went to visit his grandmother. Dixie had just hopped into the pool, too.
