I think about it and what those girls said. From the Landon I know, and what he’s said, I believe he’s not like those guys who only care about having sex with a girl for bragging rights, or just to pass the time. “I can respect that.”
“I told you, Lacey, I love you. I don’t know what I’m going to do to prove it to you, but I will. Something that will last forever.”
A few months after that, he did. He placed my name over his heart. He made me believe in forever. Until the unthinkable happened.
Shay, I need to go; I just pulled up in front of the school. See, all is fine. No need for you to rush down here. All right, bye.”
I take a very needed deep breath, put the jeep in park, and get out. Doesn’t matter if I see him or not. It doesn’t matter at all.
Who am I kidding? It matters. It always mattered. I can’t help it.
As soon as I walk onto the school grounds, with all the other parents and kids running around, I see Jacob’s teacher. She’s keeping an eye on a small group of her students that are playing a few feet away from her, with a teacher’s aide I met when school started. Average height, good looking, seemed nice enough, but sometimes you just don’t know…
“Hi, Mom!” Jacob yells my name across the yard, steering my thoughts into a different direction. I smile, waving at him as he chases—who else— Jackson around.
Oh, boy. I hope his parents get here after I leave. He seems like a really nice kid, but their friendship, as innocent as it is, makes things so much more complex and tied together than they need to be. Especially now, when things in our lives were closer to normal than they have been in years. But how can I deny him this friend he’s made? Watching him laugh, running around, carefree, with all the other kids his age. The way he should be, with no fear of the past that he has no idea about. When he turns back around, I call his name, waving him over.
Both of them run over at full speed, as if they don’t intend to stop but will run me over. I smile when they screech to a halt, out of breath, their little chests rapidly rising and falling. “Mom, can I play a little longer? Please, please, please, mom?”
“Can he please, please, please, Jacob’s mom?”
Jackson pleads with his friend, a look on his face so similar to one his father used to make. Coupled with Jacob’s signature Mom-you-know-you-want-to-give-in-because-I’m-that-adorable face, I have to force myself to shake my head.
“Sorry, guys, maybe next time. Jacob, we really need to get going. Grandma’s not home, and I have a lot to do.” I’m grasping at straws, but hey, it’s all I’ve got. Unless I want to run into his father or mother. I don’t know which one would be worse. Their little faces fall. I feel a little guilty for ruining their fun. I almost give in to five more minutes when I hear my name.
“Ms. McQueen.”
Mrs. Pear, Jacob’s teacher, is waving at me, and the person I’m trying to elude is standing next to her, looking emotionless. My lungs expand with the maximum capacity of air allowed.
I have no luck. But I can do this. I’m not seventeen. He’s no longer the love of my life. He’s just a man. As long as I remember this, it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I get my breathing under control, put a serene smile on my face. “All right, guys, looks like your teacher bought you five more minutes.” They yell in triumph and run off. “Stay with Mr. Drake! We’re not staying long, Jacob.”
I walk over, trying not to look at the other person standing next to her. Instead, I focus on Mrs. Pear, noting not for the first time how young she is—maybe a few years older than me— with her medium-length brown hair pulled back to the side with a clip. Her welcoming, friendly smile goes nicely with her blue, flower-patterned dress, both of which fit her personality. “Afternoon, Mrs. Pear.”
“It’s nice to see you, Ms. McQueen. I usually see Jacob’s grandmother in the afternoons.”
“I’ve changed around my work schedule for the next three weeks. My mother went away on a trip with her church. You’re stuck with me twice a day.”
“You’re much too pleasant a person for me to consider it being stuck. There could be worse things, and, just between us, parents,” she says in a conspiratorial voice, “you’re two of my favorite parents. One of the reasons I’m happy to bring you two together.”
“What?” Landon says, mirroring my thoughts of uneasy shock. Our eyes collide then turn on her.
“This is why I needed to speak to both of you.” She smiles. “It’s perfect timing with your schedule change.”
“What is?” I ask with a foreboding uneasiness setting deep within.
“Every year the school has a pet project. We have five classes, and each class adopts a pet from the local animal shelter until the end of the school year—to teach the kids responsibility, empathy, caring for the animal, and teamwork. The children will work in groups of two for four weeks. Every four weeks another group gets a turn. Each child has picked a partner to work with. And guess whose group is up first?”
“Let me guess,” Landon says. “Our sons are up first.”
“Yes, they are.” Mrs. Pear smiles. “They all but demanded they be partners. I usually pick partners, but, I’ve never had a more energetic request from two students. Of course, I had to say yes. I love to see young minds so enthusiastic about learning.”
“Demanding doesn’t sound much like Jacob,” I say.
“I’m sure the more demanding of the two was Jackson. He can be persuasive when he puts his mind to it,” Landon says to her. He sounds amused, but I wouldn’t know. I’m trying my hardest not to look.
“Come to think of it, he was. They make an entertaining pair,” she says with a light laugh. “Our class is the rabbit class. The boys will take turns taking care of their temporary house guest. Because they’re the first group, they have the privilege of assigning names. Isn’t this exciting?” She clasps her hands together.
“Exciting,” I repeat with less enthusiasm.
She raises her hand, waving the boys over. I place Jacob in front of me, hands on his shoulders, and look at Jackson standing next to his father. Father and son. The resemblance is definitely there. Dark hair, dark eyes, that gives way to an understanding and light you’ll only know if you’re able to get close enough to know, and when they smile, a slight shadow of a dimple may appear. You look away too quickly and you’ll miss it, like so many other things about him I once loved. I realize Landon’s looking at me eye to eye, in a way no one has looked at me in a long time. I jerk my eyes away quickly, realizing I’ve looked too long. Not good.
“Boys, I was telling your parents about the project you’ll be working on together.”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s going to be great!”
“Dad, we’ll get to see each other a lot, and we get to take our rabbits home, feed them, play with them, and we get to name them.”
“Wait a minute buddy, them? More than one?” Landon’s brows bunch together.
“Oh, yes, I wasn’t specific when I said rabbit, was I? There are two. A bonded pair. Jackson and Jacob each get to take one home. But this is why it is especially important that they get together, so the rabbits can spend time together and feed together. Otherwise they might get lonely and depressed because they are separated. Rabbits. Who knew they were just like us?”
“Who knew?” I say, lacking the vocabulary I had before this conversation started and I was face to face with the ex-love of my life.
Oh, God. How’s this going to work? I feel my stomach churn at the thought of spending time with Landon. What a time to take a trip, Mom. No way can I have Shay do this for me. Not after I said I’d be fine. Not that she would say anything. She’d be more than happy to take on this assignment for me with Jacob. But I can’t; I have to be strong and show them I can do this on my own. Be the strong, independent woman I profess to be. Not only for myself, but for my son.
You can do this, Lacey. He is just a man. You are as strong and confident as you’ve ever been.
Pulling my resolve and confidenc
e together, I say, “When do we start the project?”
“If both of you are free, you can start right now. Just follow me to the classroom to collect the rabbits. They’re all yours for the next four weeks.”
Landon and I follow in silence as Mrs. Pear and the boys talk excitedly about the project and the observational report—captioned drawings made with our help—they’ll be handing in after their stint as caregivers is up. What happened to the good old days of just hoping your child didn’t eat the paste?
Landon and I collect our rabbits and decide, much to Jacob and Jackson’s disappointment, that it would be best if we meet the next day to start the project.
Here I am, sitting in the jeep with my son and a fluffy rabbit who’s chomping at the bit to see its bonded mate. I can’t believe I’m taking a rabbit to what amounts to a conjugal visit.
“Mom?” Jacob unbuckles himself, crawling next to me in the front seat.
“Hmm?” I manage to say, staring through the windshield at the building in front of us.
“Aren’t we going in?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you look scared?”
I turn in my seat to him. “Why would I be scared? We’re going to do your project.”
“You have the same face I make when you make alien heads for dinner.” He grimaces. “Yuck.”
I smile at his little face. I don’t know why I keep making brussels sprouts. Other than it’s what good mothers are supposed to do, make their kids eat vegetables. Hell with it, I’m not making any more alien heads. There. And I’m still a good mother.
“Aren’t we going to get out, Mom?”
“Yes, of course.” I grip the steering wheel tight.
“When? We’re just sitting here, staring at the building. You don’t want to see Jackson’s dad?”
“Why would you say that?”
I don’t know where that came from. I bite the inside corner of my lip, and he slips his little hand into mine. I really want to know why he would say this. I haven’t spoken Landon’s name out loud since the day he left. It’s impossible for him to know we use to know each other in any way. We’ve only been in proximity to each other twice, not enough times for a six-year-old to draw anything from.
“You look at him funny.”
“Do I?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions hidden.
“Umhmm.” He nods his head. “But you don’t have to be scared. I think Jackson’s dad is nice. Jackson talks about him a lot. They do things all the time. Play baseball and go to the park, like a real dad.”
Obviously, in recent days, I’ve been failing at my facial reaction control, unlike my tear duct control, which has been on point.
Don’t let the tears go. Don’t let them go. I can handle this without dissolving into the puddle of tears that are pressing in toward my trembling heart. This is what I’m telling myself when I ask, “Sweetie, what’s a real dad?” I brace, waiting for the answer. I know he’s thinking it over, figuring out the right way to say it. I’m sure he has the feeling for it, but not the vocabulary of emotions to express them the way he wants. I squeeze his little hand, encouraging him on, and as always, he squeezes back. My baby.
He bows his head. “I don’t want you to be sad.”
I brush the top of his head with my free hand. “I won’t be sad. Promise,” I say, reaching for a lighter tone.
His eyes peer up to mine from under long lashes he didn’t get from me. “When I ask about my dad, you get sad. I don’t want you to be.”
“Sweetie, you can tell me anything. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die. See this smile on my face?” I cup his little chin in my hand to look up and give him a nod of my head.
“I have you and Grandma and Aunty Shay…but I don’t have a daddy like Jackson and everyone else. Aunty Shay is sometimes like a dad, but she’s not a dad. Girls can’t be daddies. But I love her, and she taught me to pee in the potty by sinking the Cheerios. But she’s not a dad. Not my dad.”
God, this breaks my heart. I have no good answers for him on that waste of space on earth. I wish I could fix this for him—for all of us— but I can’t. He’s asking more and more frequently about a dad, and I can’t answer; I just can’t. If he was dead, it would be so much easier. Is it so wrong to wish he was? With all I have inside of me, for what he’s done to us, I wish he was.
“Mrs. McQueen, it was a fine service, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was,” my mother says to a church member.
I stand over to the side, restlessly watching and listening. Gosh, I can’t wait to get home and change out of this floral dress monstrosity I’m being forced to wear. Thank goodness Landon can’t see me. He’d dump me on the spot. I look like I’m ten. I’d really earn the name Lacey baby.
“Lacey baby, is that you?”
Landon? Can’t be. I frown, because I know it’s not, and he’s the only one that would ever call me that, and he would never in front of my mother. I turn, and there he is. The guy from the bar. Mr. Perfect Smile.
I frown and turn back around. What the hell is he doing here at my mother’s church? My mother comes back over to me at the same time Perfect Smile steps in front of me. Oh, no! If she finds out I was in a bar that Landon took me to, I’m done for. That’ll be it for the progress I’ve made, warming her up to the idea of us dating. It’s taken me a year to just get to her quiet disapproval.
“Lacey, how nice to see you again. You were cute in the shadows of a dimly lit room, but my, my, how lovely you are in the light.” His eyes scan over me in appraisal, making me uncomfortable. For the life of me, I don’t know why exactly, but he gives me the creeps.
“Lacey, who is this dashing young gentleman who thinks you’re lovely?” Mom extends her hand. “I’m Mrs. McQueen, Lacey’s mother.”
“Robert, Robert Stanton. Please to meet you, ma’am. I see where lovely Lacey has inherited her beauty.”
Barely smiling at his compliment, my mom says, “I see you’re a flatterer, Mr. Stanton. I don’t put much stock in flattery. However, you are here on this lovely Sunday morning, a day as lovely as my daughter, as you pointed out. That’s something to go on. Where is it you know my daughter from?”
“Mom, we know each other from school,” I say, bringing her attention back to me, hoping he’ll keep his mouth shut.
“Yes, ma’am, we’ve seen each other around campus. One day we literally bumped into each other. We had a brief but engaging conversation.” He smiles broadly, high cheekbones and square jaw making him more handsome than most of the guys I’ve ever laid eyes on. But still, there was something missing from his eyes as he looked down at us.
“Oh, did you?” my mother asks.
“We did. However, I made a fatal mistake.”
“What would that be?”
“I didn’t get the chance to ask her if I could see her again, maybe over coffee or lunch.” He looks at me as I try not to fidget, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation but happy he’s playing along in keeping a secret from my mom. “What are the chances I would run into her again after such an uplifting Sunday service? How fortuitous my dear aunt invited me to attend.”
“Where is she?” My mother asks, eyes looking around him.
“She’s right there in the pale blue dress, ma'am.”
“Ah, yes, with Sister Andrews.” Sister Andrews waves to my mother. And Robert Perfect Smile’s aunt waves back then motions her nephew over to them.
Thank God.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. McQueen.”
He takes my mother’s hand, gallantly kissing the back like an upper-class gentleman born of wealth and fine breeding, something you don’t often see at our age or this century. After winning over my mother with that small gesture, he straightens, turning to me. “Lacey, what do you say to another engaging conversation over coffee or lunch?”
He really has nerve, given the last encounter with the boyfriend he knows I have. Just once, I wish I had it in me to be rude and
dismissive, especially with the act he’s laying on thick for my mother. “No, thank you. You may not know,” —though you do— “but I have a wonderful boyfriend who understandably wouldn’t be happy with me meeting a man for lunch.”
“Too bad.” His lips pout in regret. “It was nice seeing you again, lovely Lacey. No date, but I do believe we will be seeing each other again.” He looks into my eyes intently, his words sounding like a cold, humorless promise. “Until next time.”
Robert Stanton struts off with his perfect smile, impeccable manners, and body. Good.
My lips twist, watching him, not knowing what to think of the unusual interaction and his words, not to mention the uneasy feeling he gives me.
“What a charming young man, Lacey. I believe you should take him up on the offer for coffee.”
“Mom. You know I’m with Landon.” I’m offended at her even suggesting it.
“You’re young.”
“Mom—”
“Stop mom-ing me.” She cuts me off, trying to override my choice, which exasperates the shit out of me every time she does this. “It would be nice if for once your sister could bring a nice young man home, like Robert. And introduce you to one of his friends.”
Poor her. The wool was pulled over her eyes in the form of a tall, dark and handsome man with a dazzling smile. He seemed perfect, but I’d already seen the cracks in the perfect structure of his facade.
I can’t even believe this is happening. My dream, the love I lost a long time ago, here standing in front of me. It’s all I can do to control my fingers, which want to reach out and touch her, to make sure this isn’t a sweet, but cruel, untouchable dream.
“When Jackson and I pulled up, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. From the outside, it looks like a swanky office building,” she says, trying to make conversation but clearly avoiding eye contact.
“Yeah, it does,” I answer simply, wanting to hear her speak more words to me. Any words.
“You work in a bar?”
Cry For You_A Second Chance Romance Page 5
