by Beverly Long
“Mom, I want this to go well,” he said. Since seeing Tilda at her school on Thursday afternoon, he’d done nothing but think about her and about Josh. She’d seemed so tense. Maybe that had to do with the student that she’d been dealing with, but he was fairly certain that it also had something to do with him. He’d wanted to call Josh on Friday but decided not to press too hard too fast. His son needed a minute to catch his breath.
He was a happy kid. That was good.
It wasn’t Blaine’s intent to screw that up.
He also wasn’t giving up. He’d missed thirteen years through no fault of his own. He wasn’t missing any more.
“I want the same thing,” she said. “I don’t see any reason why it won’t.”
“Is Dad joining us?”
“Not this time,” she said. Her tone was carefully neutral, giving him no indication if there had been words about that or not. Perhaps Russ was simply otherwise engaged. Perhaps his parents no longer ate meals together. Perhaps he didn’t care about meeting Blaine’s son.
He couldn’t worry about any of that now.
“We’re going to eat in the sunroom. A little less formal than the dining room, don’t you think?”
He wasn’t sure he knew exactly where the sunroom was. “Yeah, that’s fine. I think I’ll just hang out here and watch for them.”
“Of course,” she said.
She left the foyer, and he started pacing. Since waking up this morning, he’d been worried that they might not show. Had considered sending a text, just to verify that they were on their way. But had managed not to. He and Tilda were never going to have the romantic relationship they’d once enjoyed. But they needed to get to a point where they trusted each other, especially when it came to Josh.
He saw her SUV turn into the drive. Let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. Was this how new parents felt when they brought their baby home from the hospital to meet the extended family? Proud. Anxious for no defined reason. Sensitive to the potential of the slightest criticism.
They were out of the car. Tilda looked beautiful, he realized. She had curves, and he very much liked that on a woman. And Josh...well, that was his boy. He couldn’t be more perfect.
He opened the door. Waved.
“Hi,” Tilda said softly.
“Good to see you,” he said. “Hey, Josh.”
“Hello,” Josh replied.
“Looks as if we’re only going to get one more lesson in,” he said, falling back to what they had in common. “Winter is finally moving on.” The days were warming up, especially in the valley. It was still cold enough on the mountain to maintain snow cover, but that wasn’t going to last.
The Lodge, which continued to attract guests all through the summer, would switch over to warm-weather mode. He’d spent the last couple of days at work laying the groundwork for a series of rock-climbing adventures, overnight hiking trips and an ATV off-roading camp.
“I’m so ready for spring,” Tilda said. “And the month of summer that we get.”
Colorado got more than a month of summer. But he understood what she meant. Summer in the mountains was a glorious time, with beautiful blue skies and temperatures in the mideighties. Just weeks ago, he’d assumed that he’d be somewhere else by summer, but now the season beckoned.
He and Josh could fish. Camp. Hang out.
“I thought I heard voices.”
He turned to see his mom approaching. She had a smile on her face. First, she extended a hand in Tilda’s direction. “It’s nice to see you again, Tilda.”
“Thank you for the lunch invitation,” Tilda said, returning the handshake. She handed his mother a pretty package.
“Bethel’s candy. How wonderful. Maybe we can all have a piece later.” Then his mom turned toward his son. “Hello, Josh.” She kept her arms at her sides.
And for the first time, Blaine realized that, as cool and collected as his mom had pretended to be earlier, she was also a little nervous.
“Hi,” Josh said, his voice barely audible.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry,” Mara said, already turning. She pointed towards the back of the house. “Blaine was always hungry when he was your age. Follow me.”
She led, Josh followed, and he and Tilda brought up the rear. “How’s he doing?” he whispered, leaning close. He caught a whiff of her perfume. Understated. But sexy. Like Tilda.
“Okay,” she said. “A little nervous about this.”
“Aren’t we all?” he said, rolling his eyes.
She laughed, then caught herself when his mother looked over her shoulder. When his mother turned forward once again, she swung her head toward him. “You’re not helping,” she mouthed.
“Sorry,” he said. But he wasn’t. Tilda always did have a great laugh. Deep, a little throaty. And it felt good to make her laugh. Certainly better than it felt to argue with her.
When they got to the small square table on the porch, Mara stopped at one end, then motioned for Josh to take the spot on her right. Tilda took the chair to his mother’s left and he took the other end.
“Pretty table,” Tilda said.
He supposed it was. There were tulips in a vase in the middle. The place mats were a blue and white checkered print and the dishes a pale yellow. Starched white napkins had been carefully folded, and the silverware was shiny enough that he could see his reflection in the knife.
“Thank you,” his mother said. She was still standing. “A touch of spring.”
“We need that,” Tilda responded warmly.
He appreciated that they were both trying with the small talk. Josh was looking around the room, his eyes stopping when he got to the cabinet at the far side. Blaine knew immediately what had drawn his attention. He got up and retrieved the eight-by-ten photo that sat on the third shelf.
“Is that you?” his son asked.
“Yeah. I was just a couple years older than you. Played shortstop. We won State my junior year.” Not only that, he’d also been voted Most Valuable Player for the final game.
“You didn’t say anything the other night,” Josh said.
He hadn’t. “Wasn’t important. We were talking about your game.” He sure as hell wasn’t going to be one of those dads where the kid had to live up to some legacy.
There was an awkward silence at the table, and he glanced at his mother. She was staring at him, a very odd look in her eyes. Suddenly, she smiled brightly. “I hope you like Thai food,” she said, looking at Josh. “I ordered lunch from AppeThaizer.”
Josh nodded and looked at Tilda. “I love that place.”
“AppeThaizer?” Blaine asked.
“Cool restaurant in the Diamond,” Tilda explained, mentioning a trendy part of downtown. “Everything is homemade and delicious. It just might be Josh’s favorite place to eat.”
Now his mother was practically beaming. “I’m glad I guessed right, then. Blaine, would you help me carry things in?” She headed for the kitchen.
He pushed his chair back. But before he could leave the table, Josh leaned across it, towards Tilda. “No cow intestines.”
She shrugged, looking innocent. “Or sheep brains? Who knew?”
“Huh?” he asked.
“Just something Mom and I do,” Josh said. He added no further explanation.
What Blaine heard was clear enough. The two of us already have our own little world. You’re the outsider.
But he wasn’t going to get discouraged. He was just going to have to try harder. “Sounds kind of fun and gross,” he mused. “Be right back.”
When he got to the kitchen, his mother was loading up two serving trays with rice and what appeared to be cashew chicken and pad thai. “Good job on the food, Mom,” he said.
“I had help. Stella asked her daughter if she knew what kind of food Josh liked. Evidentl
y, in health class he told the teacher that fried rice should be on the basic food pyramid because he couldn’t live without it. And everybody in town knows that AppeThaizer is the best.”
Mara had a better spy network than some small countries. “Thanks for making an effort to have this go well,” he said.
She stared at him. “Blaine, I could have done a better job at motherhood. I’d like to think that I’ve learned a few things along the way about what’s most important in life. I don’t want to make the same mistakes with my grandchildren.”
He wanted to assure her that she’d done a fine job, that he had no complaints. But he could tell that she wasn’t interested in platitudes. She was very serious about this, and when his mother put her mind to something, experience told him to watch out. She could be a force to be reckoned with.
“What do you think of Josh?” That was the question he couldn’t help asking.
“He reminds me a great deal of you at that age.”
He didn’t see the resemblance so much. But it pleased him to know that others might. How crazy was that?
You didn’t want him. When would Tilda’s words stop echoing in his head?
“I want to be a good dad,” he admitted to his mom as she pointed to a pan of egg rolls. They both knew that he hadn’t had the best of role models. But there was no need to say it.
“You will be, Blaine. You’re good at everything you do.”
This mattered more than most things. “I hope you’re right, Mom. I really do.”
Chapter 8
Lunch went better than Tilda had expected. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t been exactly sure what she expected. The Coltons’ grandiose world was very different from her own simple existence. She taught, she loved her son and she tried to be a good mom, daughter and friend.
And she’d been satisfied with that.
But now, as she lay awake in her bed, she felt needy. It had been so long since she’d felt the warmth of a man next to her. Felt the strength of his body, the heat of his desire.
Damn Blaine Colton for coming back. Now it seemed as if that was all she could think about.
Mara had talked directly to Josh for much of the lunch. Had inquired about school and extracurricular activities. When she’d found out that he’d be playing baseball, she’d asked for a schedule. Tilda had struggled for a minute to get her head around the idea of Mara, in her six-hundred-dollar designer suits, sitting on wooden bleachers in the rain, but she’d been grateful that the interest had seemed genuine.
She’d even talked about her work a bit at The Chateau, as if it was important that Josh had some understanding of her world and her interests as well. When they’d left, there’d been no demands for a repeat performance. Mara had simply thanked them both for coming.
Blaine had walked her out to her vehicle, grabbing her arm when she’d slipped on an icy spot on the driveway. He’d let go quickly enough once she was steady, but it was that touch that had ignited the need that was keeping her awake tonight. She was swamped by memories of his touch, his tremendous want. It had been...powerful to know that she was the one causing that.
He’d reminded Josh that he’d see him tomorrow at The Lodge for what would likely be the last snowboarding lesson of the season. Josh had said that he’d be there, and he and Tilda had driven home. Once there, it had been a fairly quiet day. Isaac had come over midafternoon and stayed for dinner. The boys ate chicken fingers and French fries in Josh’s room, something that Tilda rarely allowed, but she’d had the feeling that her son needed some time to relax and decompress. If he’d been anywhere as nervous as her about the luncheon, then he was still likely wound tight.
She’d cleaned the house and tried to watch television but, in truth, she’d mostly worried. Where did she and Blaine stand? It was hard to tell from the mostly stony silence and distant looks he gave her. Although, for a minute, as they’d been following Mara to the sunroom, he’d actually seemed to tease her. Aside from that, he appeared to reserve his easy-going attitude for Josh.
The worst thing for Josh was to feel torn between his parents. Which meant that she and Blaine were going to have to figure this out.
* * *
Tilda woke up before Josh on Sunday morning. She made herself coffee and a piece of toast and sat in her sunlit kitchen. Twenty minutes later, Josh wandered in, his feet bare, even though the floor was very cold. He wore sweats and a T-shirt that should have found the trash bin some time ago.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning,” he mumbled. He pulled out a new box of cereal from the cupboard, poured about half of it into a deep bowl and added enough milk that it almost overflowed the rim. And, by some small miracle, managed to get the bowl to the table without spilling it.
“Put the box away, please,” she said.
He rolled his eyes but did it. Then returned to the table and started shoveling it in.
“Do we have to go to church?” he asked.
They went through this every Sunday. “Yes,” she said. “And then lunch with Grandma and Grandpa. Then I’ll drop you off at The Lodge for your two o’clock class with Blaine.”
“I’m having a hard time figuring the two of you out.”
Tilda put down her cup. “Why’s that?” she asked carefully.
“Well, you both talk to me, but you don’t talk to each other very much. I mean, at one time, you must have liked each other, right?”
She could feel her face grow warm. Josh knew that babies didn’t come from the cabbage patch. And, while he was just thirteen and not interested in girls yet, at least she didn’t think so, she’d had several conversations about the importance of safe sex and preventing teenage pregnancy. Every time they’d had one of those conversations, it hadn’t been easy or fun, but she’d felt good afterwards.
“Of course we liked each other,” she said. Like she’d told Raeann, maybe she’d even fancied herself in love. But that had changed when it had become obvious that Blaine thought he’d escaped a bullet when she’d miscarried.
“I don’t want you to be concerned about your dad and me. We’re going to get along just fine,” she promised, hoping that it was true.
Josh ate his cereal. When he was finished, he pushed the bowl aside. “Mom, if Blaine hadn’t come back, would you have ever told me the truth?”
It was a very grown-up question coming from somebody that she still considered her little boy. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
She couldn’t have told Josh and expected him to keep it a secret, as if she was ashamed of it. At the very least, she’d have had to tell her parents and Russ and Mara Colton. Would she voluntarily have given that much power to Russ Colton? It would have been a huge risk that could have destroyed both her and Josh. “Dorian may not have been your biological father, but he was a very good dad to you. And he loved you very much. He was taken from us way too early. I’m sorry about that.”
“They’re pretty different, you know, Dad and Blaine,” Josh said.
Dorian Stoll had had a kind heart. He’d offered her marriage and the chance of a family. Had helped her in so many ways and had been behind her a hundred percent of the time. But he had never stirred her blood the way that Blaine Colton had. While they’d never discussed it, he’d probably known. But he had never held it against her.
“Different, yes, but both fine men. I hope that, in the days to come, you’ll realize that you benefited in some way from your relationship with both of them.” The sentiment was perhaps too advanced for him, but then again, he was surprising her a lot lately. “While it may not seem that way to you, I’m grateful that I ran into Blaine again, and I knew that I was going to tell him about you—way before he asked me. There was no way that I could not. He deserved to know the truth. You both did.”
“Everything feels different,” Josh admitted.
She knew wha
t he meant. “I think it is. But different isn’t necessarily bad.”
An hour later, she was wondering if that was really true. She and Josh were in a pew, waiting for church to begin, when Blaine slid in beside her. He leaned forward, caught Josh’s eye and smiled. Then he settled back in the pew, arms folded across his chest. He was big and solid and smelled so good. She wanted to lean closer.
“Good morning,” she said, staying perfectly upright. She was surprised but determined not to show it. The man could go to church if he wanted to. But she had a feeling that this might be less about communing with God and more about letting the good people of Roaring Springs know that the gossip they might have heard about Josh being his son was true.
“Morning, Tilda,” he said.
“I thought you would be working. After all, probably only a couple good snow days left, right?”
“I can take a few hours for myself,” he told her.
She quirked a brow. “How did you know that we’d be here?”
“This is the church you went to as a kid.”
“I’m surprised you remembered that.”
“I remember a lot of things,” he said, right before the pianist launched into a song and the minister came down the middle aisle.
Like what? she wanted to demand. But given that they were likely already attracting enough attention, she kept her mouth shut. And forty-five minutes later, when the service ended, she had absolutely no recollection of anything the minister might have said.
As they walked out of church, Blaine fell back to walk next to Josh, leaving Tilda to lead the way. As she walked down the church’s front steps, she saw her parents waiting down the sidewalk. Somewhat dreading the meeting but knowing it needed to happen, she led Blaine and Josh to her parents.
“Hi, Dad. Mom.”
“Hello, honey,” her dad said, his tone considering.
Tilda waved in Blaine’s direction. “You remember Blaine, right?”
Blaine stepped forward, his posture absolutely straight. Stuck out his hand. “Mr. Deeds,” he said, his tone respectful.
