No Matter What

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Oh, help. I have to say something. After a deep breath, she managed, “It’s okay, Trevor. There have been times in my life when I was jealous of people who had regular families.” She made sure her gaze held his. “There’ve also been times when I’ve realized ‘regular’ from the outside isn’t necessarily better than what I had.”

  He nodded and bent his head to his plate.

  Molly reached out and squeezed Cait’s hand. The gesture was quick; she didn’t even look at her, and made no effort to prolong the moment. But she had to say thank you.

  Then her eyes met Richard’s and she saw a tangle of emotion in his dark eyes as complex as what she felt. But he smiled, and she saw he meant it.

  “I’m glad you decided to play basketball,” Molly said, cutting turkey on her plate.

  Trevor mumbled something.

  “What?”

  “Some of the guys aren’t that glad.”

  “Because you’re beating one of them out for a position.”

  “Yeah.” He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “They’ve been a team. You know? I haven’t even been practicing, and now here I am.” He shrugged.

  “Is it definite you’ll be starting Tuesday?” his father asked.

  “That’s what Coach says.”

  “Do you mind if I come? Or would you rather I didn’t?” Richard’s tone was careful, neutral.

  Once again Trevor shrugged. “It’s an away game.”

  “Not that far.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Good.” Richard smiled. “What about you, Molly? Do you go to games?”

  “All home ones.”

  “Do you want to come with me?”

  Both the kids stared at them. Molly glanced at her daughter. “Cait, do you plan to go?”

  “If I do, I’ll take the bus.”

  “Do you mind…?”

  “Why would I?”

  They both knew why. Having your mom attending all official social events wouldn’t thrill any teenager.

  But Molly smiled at both Richard and Trevor. “Then yes. I’d love to see Trevor play. And it would be fabulous if the team could beat Snohomish right out of the gate. We always lose to them.”

  “That’s what Coach says.” Trevor reached with new enthusiasm for the bowl of dressing. “They can’t be that good.”

  “It’s a way bigger high school than ours.”

  “The team’s okay,” he said. “I think we have a good chance.” He stole a look at Cait. “It’s too bad you’re not a cheerleader.”

  Wow. Would she have made it through the season? Basketball ended in early February—assuming West Fork didn’t make it to the playoffs. Which they usually didn’t, but they’d come close last year. Trevor might make the difference. That would extend the season well into Cait’s fifth month of pregnancy. No, Molly realized, it was lucky Cait hadn’t succumbed to her friends’ pleas and gone out for the squad.

  “I like dance better,” Cait said, but subdued.

  After a moment of silence—they were probably all calculating how pregnant she’d be—Trevor spoke. “You’ll come to the game, anyway, won’t you?”

  Her chin was high, but her eyes showed vulnerability. “What difference does it make? You have friends.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Really? That’s not how it looked to me at Halloween.”

  He gave a hunted glance at Molly and Richard. “I was mad.”

  “You mean, pawing Ashley was for my benefit?” Any vulnerability had been replaced by sparks.

  “Yeah.” He sounded and looked freaked. “Kind of. I mean, maybe.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Well, not exactly. I didn’t say… And it’s not like we, you know…”

  Before Cait could get her mouth opened, Molly lifted a hand. “Whoa. Can you two continue this somewhere else? Some other time? It’s way more than I want to know. And probably more than Trevor’s father wants to know, either.” Although she couldn’t be sure of that. What was inducing panic in her was the realization that Trevor might actually still like Cait. Love her? No, they were too young. Ridiculously young. But…think of the complications if they resumed their relationship. Imagined they really were in love. Talked about a future.

  No, no, no.

  Cait snorted, an indelicate sound. Trevor looked embarrassingly relieved. Richard, Molly saw with narrowed eyes, was amused. His kid wasn’t fifteen years old. Although surely the last thing he’d want was his kid losing the chance to go to college, just as he had.

  Somehow or other, conversation found less dangerous paths, and the meal ended more pleasantly than it had begun. They all agreed to wait a little before they had pie. Richard offered to help clean up and gave his son the evil eye until he offered, too.

  “If you’ll help me, why don’t we let these two off the hook? The kitchen isn’t big enough for four,” said Molly.

  “Sure,” Cait said. “Let’s go upstairs. You can tell me why Ashley Jantz hasn’t run you down with her Corvette.”

  Richard turned to Molly. “A kid drives a Corvette?”

  “Daddy is a big-time contractor and loaded.”

  “Jantz?” He stared at his son. “You’ve been messing with Gordon Jantz’s daughter?”

  “I wasn’t messing with her!”

  “Yes, you were,” muttered Cait.

  “Aargh!”

  “Shoo,” Molly told them, flapping her hands.

  They went. The argument rose in volume until it was finally cut off upstairs by the bedroom door.

  “He’s in deep shit,” Richard remarked, picking up the turkey platter and serving bowl.

  “Good,” Molly snapped.

  “What?” He followed her to the kitchen.

  Fired up herself, she set the pile of plates on the counter and faced him. “You don’t want our children to have a big romance at this point, do you? Why don’t you think that one through?”

  He did, with commendable speed. “You’re right. I don’t. I want to have a romance with you, and something tells me the two relationships aren’t compatible.”

  “You think?” She huffed and went back for more dishes.

  He did the same. “Molly, I never said I wanted them to get back together. God. What I’d like is to see my son behave honorably. Support Cait. Not make sure she sees him with his hands all over some other girl only because he wants to hurt her feelings. That’s all I meant.”

  Her shoulders sagged as she dropped a handful of silverware in the sink. “I’m sorry. I do see that. Listening to them, I had this horrible vision of them running off to get married, drugged by young love.”

  “Is that what you did?” he asked gently, and the next moment he’d set down his own load and put his hands on her shoulders. When he turned her to face him, his eyes were warm and understanding.

  “Yes.” Why was she nearly hyperventilating? “No. Oh, I suppose I thought I was in love. Colt was older, sexy, charismatic.... But mostly, I was pregnant. And I wanted a family.”

  It was as simple as that, she realized in a kind of horror. She had so desperately wanted something she’d lost. Even though she’d had a huge crush, for want of a better word, on Colt, she wasn’t thinking marriage and forever…until she got pregnant. And then, suddenly, there it was—a shimmering possibility. And she’d grabbed at it. A dream.

  Studying Richard’s face with sudden intensity, Molly couldn’t help wondering. She’d said to him, I’ve been dreaming, too. Was that what this was? Whatever she felt for him? A fantasy, and not real at all? An image of them all as a family?

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, searching her face with equal intensity.

  “I’m panicking,” she whispered.

  He tugged her closer. “Don’t. Not about us. Damn it, Molly! We have lives separate from our kids. We have a right to have lives of our own. Don’t mix all of this into one stew.”

  But she couldn’t help seeing with extraordinary clarity that Cait�
��s and Trevor’s problems were too interconnected to separate from anything she and Richard tried to build. Unless he was talking about sex and only sex. An affair they could somehow keep separate from their children.

  How could they? This was a small town. Sneaking around seemed sordid. She realized she’d hate it if he suggested a night away at a motel or something like that.

  But I want him, she all but wailed. I do. Why can’t I have him?

  Maybe…maybe they’d have to wait, at least until Trevor had left home. They were adults. It wouldn’t kill them to wait a few months.

  Yes, but what if Trevor didn’t leave for college until next September? That was ten months away. Worse yet, what if he went to college locally, maybe even continued to live with his dad?

  No matter what, by then I will be grieving the loss of Cait’s child, Molly thought bleakly. And along with this baby, everything else I’ve ever lost, or known I couldn’t have.

  I am pathetic.

  What had he said? We’ll work it out. Her rejoinder: But not necessarily well.

  But maybe their time would come. Or maybe with time she’d realize she didn’t want this—whatever it was—to amount to anything.

  Right now, though, she gazed into those extraordinarily dark eyes and feared, terribly, that she’d fallen in love with this man, and that their time wouldn’t come, because too much was in their way. And, dear God, she felt selfish even thinking that, when she’d just renewed her resolve that Cait would come first.

  * * *

  RICHARD HAD NEVER SEEN SO many conflicting emotions on one person’s face. It scared the crap out of him. What was she thinking? What could be making Molly look so heartbroken?

  A feeling of desperation drove him to step forward and pull her into his arms. Before she could object, he kissed her, and not gently. It was a full-out, open mouth assault on her senses. Triumph filled him when, after a stunned moment, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Her breasts felt so damn good against his chest, her thighs against his. Her height coupled with her heels meant he didn’t have to bend far to devour her mouth. His erection pressed against her where it felt the best. Groaning, he grabbed her hips to move her against him. The vibration in her throat sounded like a purr. She was doing some rubbing of her own. In another second, he was going to lift her onto the counter and pull that sweater up. He wanted to see her breasts more than he wanted the sun to rise tomorrow. To bury his face between them, to lick, taste, suckle....

  “No.” She went utterly still in his arms. “This is crazy.”

  His body throbbed painfully. His hands squeezed her hips. He didn’t know if he could stop. Knew he didn’t want to, even as he also knew she was right.

  “The kids could come downstairs anytime,” he remembered. He was hoarse with regret.

  “That’s not what I mean, but it’s true. They could. Richard.” She swallowed. “This is too complicated. We need to think.”

  Think? His brain cells had melted down a good long time ago. Restoring function didn’t happen that fast.

  “Please. Let’s…let’s clean the kitchen and not give them any reason to be suspicious.”

  That was too much. “Why should we be ashamed of having a relationship?”

  “I’m not ashamed. But I know where my focus needs to be.”

  He’d never expected to be jealous of how much a woman loved her child. For a minute he thought, And the kid’s a spoiled brat besides, then was ashamed of himself. It wasn’t even true. Caitlyn was confused, scared, in turmoil. Spoiled? This was a girl whose own father couldn’t be bothered to give her even an occasional day of his time, who apparently didn’t believe she counted because she wasn’t male and therefore worthy of being a Callahan the Fourth. Trevor and Bree at least knew both their parents loved them, even if they’d had to live with the consequences of their family splitting.

  Yeah, so what was Trevor’s excuse?

  Richard nodded to Molly and turned to go back to the dining room. They worked after that in near total silence, some of the ease between them gone. His body still ached, and he realized he felt a whole lot of other things, too. He was hurt, because she had a cooler head than he did and, apparently, more reservations. Or was less powerfully drawn to him. And yes, jealousy lingered and he was uncomfortable with that. There was resentment because these two kids had turned all of their lives into high drama and were determined to stay in the spotlight. And he was still scared by that expression he’d caught on Molly’s face.

  They all got through pie, which Cait had again baked, and he and Trevor made their excuses shortly thereafter. Richard couldn’t tell what had happened between Trev and Cait upstairs. They weren’t yelling at each other when they came down, but they weren’t talking easily, either, and they sure weren’t holding hands or giving each other lovelorn looks.

  No, the only lovelorn looks would have been from him, if he hadn’t had to stifle them.

  “Good dinner,” he said, once he’d pulled away from the curb.

  “Yeah.” Trev sounded preoccupied.

  “Trevor.” Richard waited until he was sure he had his son’s attention. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me what happened with your mom?”

  “No!” Trevor jerked back, coming up against the passenger door. “Why would I?”

  “A better question is why won’t you?”

  “Oh, come on.” His lip curled. “You know what Mom’s like.”

  “I’m not so sure I do.” Richard accelerated slightly to make a green light.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve actually seen your mother face-to-face?” Silence. “I was thinking about it the other day. Six or seven years, give or take a few months. And before that all we had were brief meetings in the airport when we handed you off.” He’d hated those flights made to pick up or return his children. “It’s been a lot longer than that since we had a meaningful conversation. Ten, eleven years, at least. I don’t know your mother anymore.”

  There was a long, long silence. Richard waited it out. Trevor was a smart kid. Let him think it through.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” he finally muttered.

  “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Richard said wearily.

  Shrug.

  They’d reached home. Richard reached up to press the button on the remote control and pulled into the garage. Trevor shot out of the pickup and raced into the house before Richard so much as set the emergency brake.

  Another highly successful, father-son moment, he thought with renewed frustration and depression.

  * * *

  MOLLY HAD CONSENTED to drive to Snohomish with him for Tuesday night’s game, which was something. Richard was determined not to press her for anything but conversation. They kept it light during the forty-minute drive, although he knew she was sneaking glances at him, probably trying to nail down his mood.

  She looked good tonight. Really good. He’d felt a rush of hunger when he picked her up. She wore a turtleneck, tighter jeans than usual and athletic shoes. She had her hair in a ponytail, which made her look ridiculously young and left tiny tendrils of softer hair at her temples and nape. Once they arrived, watching the sway of her hips as she climbed the bleachers ahead of him came close to killing him.

  He’d seen Trevor play only a few times. Last year he’d flown down to Sacramento when the team played in a three-day-long tournament and had felt such pride, he’d had a hard time not jumping to his feet and bragging to everyone in the stands, “That’s my kid. Mine.”

  He felt the same tonight. Trevor might have what it took to make it to the pros. Richard had been good, good enough to be wanted by some top college programs. But he’d known in his heart that he was done growing, which left him too short to be a forward on a professional level, and he wasn’t quick enough to be a guard.

  Trevor was different. For all his grace and athleticism, it was o
bvious that he wasn’t done growing. His feet still looked too big for his body; he had that lankiness a kid has when his body is unfinished. Like Molly, Lexa had been tall for a woman, so Trevor got it from both parents. Richard was willing to bet he’d end up two or three inches taller than his old man. And if he didn’t…he was quick. And he had a hell of an outside shot.

  When the team first began warming up, he casually sent up a shot from so far away, Richard, and probably everyone else in the stands and on the court, had stared in disbelief. The perfect arc ended with the ball swishing through the net. Trevor paid no attention to the resultant silence followed by murmurs.

  Molly had leaned close to Richard and murmured, “Show-off.”

  “Yeah.” He’d laughed. “I think that’s exactly why he did that. He’s putting a scare into the other team.”

  The game was intense from the first drive down the court. A Snohomish player put up a shot and Trevor sprang up and smacked it away from the hoop. One of his teammates snatched the ball, passed it to the West Fork guard and ten players tore the other direction down the court.

  At halftime West Fork led by two points. The team was outclassed by Snohomish—except for Trevor. He was everywhere, as strong at defense as he was at offense. His slam dunk was primitive and powerful, his outside shot a thing of beauty. Richard could only watch in awe.

  Molly, he discovered, was a vocal supporter. She yelled encouragement, she moaned disappointment, she laughed, she clapped, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an earsplitting whistle that had Trevor looking up from a time-out huddle and grinning right at her.

  That grin socked Richard in the chest. It was delighted, triumphant, filled with a young male’s vanity and a boy’s mischief. He hadn’t seen that grin in a long time.

  “Oh,” she said finally, sagging to the creaking bleacher seat. “I don’t know if I’ll survive the game, never mind the season. Oh, Cait!” She waved at her daughter, who was bounding up the bleachers to them. “He’s amazing.”

  “Did you see him, Mom?” Her face was alight. “I knew he was supposed to be good, but…wow.”

  “I’ve seen him play, and I didn’t know he was that good,” Richard said. “We could end up with recruiters from every major basketball powerhouse in the nation knocking on our door.”