You Belong to Me

by Jennifer Greene

  But the image of a dark-eyed boy filled his mind. And then a dark-eyed, dark-haired woman with a smile that could rip a man’s safe moorings to flotsam in two seconds flat. A man could believe in anything when Serena smiled a certain way.

  A man could do anything when Serena kissed him a certain way.

  He opened his eyes and swiftly pivoted toward the house. Maybe the longing had a chance of becoming real this time. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he could feel as though he belonged somewhere, to someone. But there was a catch to that hope, he knew. He had to make things right—for Nate, for Serena. He had to prove that he could be a good father, the kind of father Nate would choose.

  Even more, he wanted to be the kind of man Serena would choose to be with. Not from obligation or because a child tied them in a relationship. But because she wanted to be.

  Five

  Putting Nate to bed always took wheedling, cajoling, and a little conniving. Her son loved every moment of being awake. He hated to waste a second of life doing anything as boring as sleeping. Eventually, though, the layers of play grime were soaked off, the computer unplugged, the cup of milk downed and the teeth brushed. Coaxing him under the covers wasn’t hard at this point, but getting him to stop talking was.

  “Can I go fishing tomorrow with Uncle Wolf and Uncle John?”

  “After my brothers brought you home so sunburned you could hardly move last time? I don’t think so. Your uncles are still in big trouble with me.”

  She pulled up the sheets, tucked just so. Whiskey attempted to slink onto the foot of the bed as if the two humans might accidentally miss noticing something the size of an Irish setter.

  “Mom, you shouldn’t be mad at them. We just got busy fishing and doing guy stuff. Important things.” Nate already knew how to tease and get a rise out of her. His eyes twinkled.

  “Important guy things like forgetting to show any common sense?”

  “Yeah. Like that.” Nate’s hand slipped outside the covers and reached down to the floor. Seconds later a small, purring lump showed up under the sheet next to Nate’s tummy. Both humans pretended not to notice that, too. “So, can I go fishing? Think about it. I’d be out of your hair for hours.”

  “I’m afraid that argument isn’t worth beans. I happen to love you in my hair, short stuff.” She bent down to nuzzle a forehead-to-forehead kiss—the kind that her big-boy son didn’t mind so much because, in his words, it wasn’t so smooshy. From the corner of her eye she caught George and the kittens in the doorway. “No. Scoot! There’s no room for Nate in his own bed now.”

  “Aw, Mom. I like everybody to sleep with me. And even if you make ’em go away, they’ll just come in later anyway.”

  “Uh-huh. But this way we can pretend that the humans of the house are in control.” She scooped up a sock that had failed to make it to the hamper, turned off the overhead light, then sank back next to him on the bed. She made her voice sound as casual as a light spring breeze. “So, what’d you think of Dr. Blake coming over and spending some time with us?”

  “I dunno. I guess it was okay. Once I could see for sure that he wasn’t gonna try and give me any more shots.”

  “Hey, didn’t I tell you that this wasn’t about doctoring? That he just wanted to visit?” Serena ruffled his hair. “Besides, I just wanted to know what you thought of him.”

  “He was weird.”

  “Oh?” Serena mentally told herself not to worry too fast. “Weird” wasn’t automatically a kiss-of-death opinion coming from a six-year-old. “Weird-bad or weird-funny or weird-cool?”

  “Weird-kinda-interesting. At first I thought it was pretty dumb that he wanted to play a game with me. Because it was such a stupid game, you know?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But then I figured, okay, he’s a grown-up, and you never know what they’re going to do.” Nate heaved a world-weary sigh. “After that, though…well, I thought he’d be more fun when we were making volcanoes.”

  “I thought you two were having fun, then. I could hear you laughing in the kitchen.”

  “Well, yeah, we were. Until he got all upset because he made his wrong and the volcano bubbled all over the place and made a big mess. I told him you wouldn’t be mad. I told him you’d even come help us clean it up if we couldn’t do it ourselves, that we just had to try our best. We cleaned it up good, but it’s like he was scared to play after that. Anyway. You can have him over again, Mom.”

  “It’s okay if he comes over again? Even if you didn’t have that good a time?” A velvet paw sneaked out from under the covers to attack her hand. Momentarily, though, her eyes were on her son.

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Because you know what I thought?”

  “No, what?”

  “That he’s sad. And he’s lonesome. ‘Course, mebbe if he’d quit giving shots to kids all day, it’d be easier for him to make friends, you know? So you can have him around. We could play with him some more. Get him laughing and stuff. You know, like you and me. Then maybe he wouldn’t be so sad and he’d get the idea how to play.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” Serena stood, intending to leave for real this time, as soon as she gave him one more hug and buss. Then a snuggle. Then one last tuck. “Hey, did I mention to you recently that I think you’re a pretty fabulous kid?”

  “Cut it out, Mom. You’re ‘barrassing me. I hate that.”

  “I’m so sorry. I love you. Sometimes this stuff just slips out.”

  “Sometimes on purpose.” Nate’s eyes shifted to half-mast. “Anyway, he can come over, but I don’t think you should kiss him again.”

  “Pardon me?” Serena was already at the door when her son’s offhand comment made her stop dead.

  “I don’t think you and him should kiss anymore,” Nate repeated clearly. “I can kiss you. You’re my mom. But I don’t like it when other guys kiss you, okay?”

  “What’s this? You’ve seen Uncle Wolf and Uncle John kiss me a hundred thousand million times.”

  “Not like he kissed you, Mom.” Her son’s soprano voice expressed an extremely sure opinion. Then he yawned and turned over.

  Nate no longer seemed worried about kisses or anything else. Yet as Serena tiptoed down the hall to her bedroom, her mind replayed everything her son had said about Blake. Somehow Nate had picked up on the chemistry between her and Blake, and on his daddy’s loneliness. But the answers she’d hoped to gain from their day together didn’t seem clear. What did her son need? And what did Blake need? Was there any chance of their all relating as a family? How could she help the two males create a relationship together?

  She switched on the table lamp in her bedroom, aware that all this fretful worrying was unlike her. The old sapphire prospectors used to say that you had to be willing to blow something up if you wanted to expose the jewels. She’d always secretly thought that was good life advice, too. Everything worthwhile took risk. If you wanted something big, then you had to be willing to take a big risk. Serena had never been afraid of stepping up and embracing life.

  She’d taken a huge risk with her heart, once upon a time. She’d made love with Blake, knowing he was wrong for her.

  She’d fallen in love with him all over again today, watching him struggle so hard with his son. And she realized achingly hard all over again that he was still wrong for her.

  As she stripped off the day’s clothes, she glanced around her bedroom with sober eyes. Nate called it her “treasure room.” Glass doors led to an outside deck, where she was likely to sleep on a hot summer night such as this. The far corner held a small kiva fireplace and a hearth she’d laid herself in Italian tile. A Danish silver brush and mirror sat on her dresser. The dresser mirror was Samoan. Tribal masks hung on the far wall in teak and soft, rich zebrawood. The focus of the room, though, was the giant Chinese marriage bed—not a real one; she couldn’t afford that. But she’d been charmed by the design in a museum and come home to make her own version, working with wood and silk hangings to duplicate the
sense of an intimately enclosed, private sleeping space.

  She pulled the band free from her long braid and shook her hair loose, grabbing the silver brush. However eclectic and goofy her decorating style, she loved the room. It represented exactly who she was. Unfortunately it also represented the stark differences between her and Blake.

  Being born Cheyenne and raised by a white family, Serena figured that a woman belonged where she made a place for herself, her own way. She wanted to instill those same values in her son. She’d always believed that it made no sense to judge others by race or culture or differences, but that the adventure of life and people and all the differences were there to be embraced.

  That was one of the frightening challenges she’d discovered when she first fell in love with Blake. She saw love as an adventure, a risk, a wonder. Blake saw love as a responsibility. She’d savored every perilous, precious sensation of loving him. He had only let loose that one time with her, and only then because he’d been so deeply in grief that he’d lost control. Otherwise, he never colored outside the lines, while she lived to do just that.

  He was a man of honor, which she deeply respected. Then and now. But they might as well have been from different worlds. Then and now.

  When the phone suddenly jangled by her bed, she was so deep in thought that she jumped, but the interruption was welcomed. Thinking about kisses—even soul-touching kisses—was dangerous. Thinking about the yearning and loneliness she’d seen in Blake’s deep blue eyes was even worse. If she’d never met him again, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. But now she had. Now she could feel a chance. A chance to be with him again, a chance to make it together as a family. A chance—just one more shot—at showing him the wonder and adventure of love. Of life. Of the kind of life she’d once dreamed of sharing with him.

  But he was as closed-up as he’d always been. She doubted he’d even really looked at her. He was only looking at her and Nate as a responsibility he was trying to make right. Damn. She had to get those hopes out of her mind. When the phone jangled a second time, she leaped to answer it, not just in fear the noise would wake Nate but to force her mind off Nate’s dad completely.

  “Serena? Oh, I’m so glad I reached you. This is Victoria—Victoria Rutherford.”

  She dropped her hairbrush in surprise. “Vic, I can hardly believe it’s you! How terrific to hear from you. What’s new? How are you doing?”

  Although it had been years since they’d taken teaching courses together, Serena instantly pictured her old friend. Victoria was petite and blond and gorgeous, with big blue eyes and an elegant sense of style—Serena’s opposite in every possible way. But the differences between them had never mattered, and neither had Victoria’s choosing to teach a zillion miles away in some fancy east coast school. They’d always been able to pick up the friendship and talk as if they’d just seen each other yesterday.

  “Well, I’m fine. Sort of.”

  “What’s wrong?” Serena’s easy smile immediately died.

  “I’m coming home.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “Well, not exactly.” Serena could suddenly hear the tears in her old friend’s voice. “I’m coming home because I know my family’s in financial trouble. The ranch has to be sold.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

  “Thank you. And actually…nothing’s that new about this. My dad’s had trouble with his health. And I knew Mom and Dad were struggling. I just didn’t realize they were this close to losing the ranch, so fast. If anything else happened, they didn’t tell me. Anyway, I didn’t mean to dump on you—”

  “Cut it out,” Serena chided her gently. “You know we’re friends. You can dump on me any time. I’m just sorry you and your family are going through such a hard stretch. And when are you coming home? I realize you’ll probably have your hands full, but maybe we can get together…or if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

  They chatted awhile longer. Typically, even though Victoria had serious problems in her life, she didn’t neglect to ask about Serena’s.

  “Blake Remmington has moved to Whitehorn, at least temporarily,” Serena confessed.

  “Blake? Really? The guy you told me about from years ago?”

  “I had a feeling you’d remember. And if you’re coming back home, I thought I’d better mention it so you won’t be surprised if you see the name, or meet him.”

  So typically, Victoria cut to the chase. “Something’s happening between you two, isn’t it? He was always unfinished business for you.”

  “No, he wasn’t.”

  “Oh, yeah he was.” Victoria’s voice was teasing, but then she let it go.

  Eventually they both ended the conversation, but even after Serena hung up, her mind repeated her friend’s intuition. Blake was unfinished business for her.

  And there was something happening between them. After seeing him only a few times, and even under a terribly stressful situation, every feeling she’d ever had for him seemed to have grown tenfold.

  He’d needed her before. And she sensed that he needed her now—or someone. Someone who could open the man up, teach him to embrace love and life and not worry so much about doing the right thing that he closed his life to the possibilities. But whether that someone could be her, Serena was no more sure now than she’d been seven years ago.

  Humming rock and roll under her breath, Serena juggled a half dozen shopping bags as she ambled down Center Avenue. She never shopped, except for the obvious type of grocery and chore shopping. But her brothers had absconded with Nate for a fishing outing, which left her with a rare, whole day to waste. And she had. Her hair had a fresh cut and her nails a manicure, thanks to Kim, Gracie’s daughter, at the Whitehorn Beauty Salon. The pockets of her white shorts had spearmint candy, her favorite, and her arms were filled with loot—the sponge cake that had leaped into her hands at the bakery, the two hot romances that had called to her at the bookstore, the turquoise sandals that walked into her bag at the shoe shop.

  Of course, she was now starving and still in town and it was hotter than blazes, but she could both nap and eat once she got home. Wasting an entire afternoon was an accomplishment worth gloating over. No laundry, no picking up a single toy. She paused at the movie theater to check the marquee, then started to cross Center Avenue when she suddenly heard the blaring horn of a semitrailer.

  The sun screamed in her eyes when she whirled around. It was that predinner sun, the hottest and brightest of the day. Even sun-blinded, though, she easily saw the purple semi cab, the driver way up there, laying on his horn as if he were trying to wake the dead and everyone in Whitehorn. She saw the truck. Saw the small red ball. Saw the little girl skipping after the ball.

  In the next split second, Serena saw the truck try to, start to, want to, swerve, and the sick, frantic look on the driver’s face through the dusty windshield.

  Serena dropped her bags and charged for the child, even knowing she couldn’t possibly reach her in time. She heard a woman’s frantic shriek—it had to be the little girl’s mom—but in the same instant, she saw Blake. He was already in the road, barreling at race-car speed right in the path of the semi. Within a blink of a second, he swooped up the little girl and hurled them both toward the sidewalk.

  It was all over so fast. Serena grabbed her bags and the squished sponge cake, but kept moving, her gaze peeled on the scene.

  Pedestrians and onlookers had run to the spot, but Serena could still see that Blake had crashed on the cement sidewalk with the child on top of him. By the time she reached them, the frizzy-blond mama was holding her frizzy-blond daughter and crying and trying to kiss Blake all at the same time.

  The little girl appeared absolutely fine. The mom appeared as if she would recover, given some time. Only Blake seemed to be in any trouble, with a scrape on his hand and a tear on the right side of his khakis. The mom kept kissing him, and then the little girl started doing her share.

  “I love yo
u, Dr. Blake! You’re my hero forever and ever!”

  “I don’t know how to thank you. Oh, my God! Oh, my God, I was so scared!”

  Serena saw Blake tactfully try to extricate himself from his worshipers, but the onlookers were getting as big a charge from the scene as she was. Unfortunately, though, no one else was even trying to save him, which meant she obviously had to step in.

  “Serena!” He didn’t really need her hand to get himself up, or to handle his thankful admirers. But the moment their fingers twined, she felt the connection. Heat that had nothing to do with a sweltering August afternoon. Yearning that had nothing to do with Blake’s desire to get out of a public situation. Intimacy that shouldn’t have anything to do with the simple touching of two hands.

  He eased to his feet, still talking to the mom and daughter, his face flushed, his hand locked with Serena’s as if their palms were glued together. Finally the mom took her little girl off, yelling about never running into the road for a ball or a toy again.

  “Let’s see the hand,” Serena ordered.

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’m figuring you’re lucky you didn’t break it. It looked like you fell right on that hand, with all your weight and the little girl’s, too. Now let’s see.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Hey, you’re not talking to a doc, Doc. You’re talking to a mom. You either obey or die. That’s the sum total of your choices.”

  Chuckling, he turned his left palm over. As she inspected the streaks of gravel, scraped skin and blood, she felt his gaze on her face, roaming her features as if he had nothing better to do than stare at her all day.

  “Where’s your sidekick?” he asked.

  “Fishing with his two uncles. They won’t be back until dark, so I had the whole day free. We’re going into the Hip Hop Café,” she informed him.

  “You’re hungry?”

  “Yes, actually. But the point is, that’s the closest bathroom and you know they’ll have a first-aid kit there in the restaurant.”