Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found)

by Henrick, Ruthie

  And as she left his office, walking a little more confidently through his tiny lobby, the first building blocks of a new life slipped firmly into place.

  Allie was mad. No, not mad. Livid, that about covered it. She flung her purse onto the kitchen table. Tossed her keys to land with a clatter beside it. Nothing had gone right for the past two years and it was all Ben’s fault. Not her problem he wasn’t here to defend himself, the selfish, lying, cheating bastard. She had a laundry list of problems and they could all be laid right at his doorstep. Or… wherever.

  It all started way back then with the automatic sprinkler system—and a timer she knew nothing about. One afternoon as she strode across the lawn, her eye on the daily paper, it suddenly began spewing. Geysers gushed that would put Yosemite to shame; every last one of the heads completely sheared off.

  She ran to the controls on the wall just inside the garage door, blindly flipped switches, twisted dials until the water shut off. Oh, that Trey, she’d seethed, plowing the mower straight ahead rather than veering around those pesky pop-ups—all in order to finish the chore fast, damn kid. And Ben—they’d lived together in this house for five years—don’t you think he could have mentioned, just once, how to operate the system? So, besides needing to learn about the damn timer, every sprinkler head in the entire yard needed to be replaced.

  They were idiots.

  Both of them.

  With a firm grasp on her shopping bag she strode back to the living room toting her new paperback and trio of scented candles, her mind still spinning. Her little bout of retail therapy had done nothing for her mood.

  “Jake, I have a problem with my sprinkler system.” She’d called him as soon as she’d had a chance to change her clothes, to dry her hair. “Trey ran over the sprinkler heads with the mower.” Her frustration buzzed through the atmosphere, circled the satellite and crash landed in his cell phone. She was helpless to stop it.

  “How many?” What would she do without Jake? Of course he’d drop everything to come over, pry her out of a jam.

  “All of them.”

  “All of them!?”

  Poor Jake.

  With her new candles scattered on a shelf of the wall unit, wicks lit and jasmine floating on the air, she stormed into her room. It was shortly after the sprinkler incident that her car began to chug and choke. Out of warranty, it was in the shop so often now she’d named the sardine can the dealership offered as a loaner.

  She’d scarcely sprung her car from the mechanic—if God was kind, for the last time—and was trying to make it home before rush hour when her tire popped. Dammit! Ben was supposed to handle these things. She steered the limping vehicle to the shoulder and parked while a dust storm rolled in from the west. There was nothing to do but call for help and wait, random acts of mayhem gleefully flitting through her head, aimed directly at her dearly departed.

  Tossing her new romance into the seat of her reading chair—at least someone got to have a happy-ever-after—she continued into the bathroom and walk-in closet beyond. But that day she’d picked up the handset and called Jake. “Can you believe it? It took them three hours to get there! Three! I was a damn goldfish in a glass bowl, everybody staring at me as they zoomed past.”

  “Hold on. The game’s too loud.” The phone clunked like it was dropped on a hard surface, then he was back. “Now, what are you talking about?”

  “Triple A. I got a flat and it took them forever to get there because of the storm. I was stuck on the side of the freeway, getting sandblasted in the dark.”

  “Really, Allie? You thought they’d rush right out to change your tire in that wind and sand? You were lucky they got there in three hours.”

  Allie changed into drawstring cotton pants and a thin tee, finally comfortable and well on her way to calmer. That was, until the squeal of electric guitar and the battle fire of twenty-third century weaponry poured from Trey’s open doorway and followed him like a cloud down the hallway and toward her room. Which brought her temper flying full circle, and back to his son. That’s right, his son. Her son was conscientious, helped around the house without nagging. Was polite and pleasant. Dubbed the Stepford student at a very young age.

  Now he acted out, rushed through chores irresponsibly. Sassed her relentlessly. Was moody, inconsiderate, argumentative. And the frosting on the cake? His grades had dipped dangerously into the red zone.

  He’d figured out how to push her guilt button, too, and was on her last nerve. The worst part was she was pretty sure she brought this on herself, giving in to him too much—the poor kid, doesn’t have a dad…

  The long, long stare she leveled his way was hot, the arm she thrust out as he crossed her threshold wordlessly pointed the way back out. He gusted out a laugh and turned around. “Come on, Mom, you gotta let me out of the house some day. Today works for me.”

  Dear God, give me the strength to not kill him. She could not allow this to continue. She was holding up her end of the deal, dammit, but he was clearly not holding up his.

  Just shy of his sixteenth birthday, she’d taught him to drive, like a good mom. Took him to the mall in the evenings so he’d have a great big piece of asphalt all to himself. Demonstrated the knobs, the buttons, and then braced herself against the dash and the door while he mastered the intricacies of an automatic transmission. And at eight o’clock in the morning the very day he turned sixteen there they were, waiting in line to take his driving test. And of course he passed the first time, the little creep.

  Allie dropped into the comfort of her scarlet chenille chair, reached out to switch on the reading lamp. Nestled in the quiet corner of her bedroom, she opened her paperback and then ignored it as she contemplated problem number four with a sigh of frustration. Once the kid in question could drive, he thought he could drive. Whenever he wanted. Her car. Without asking. That was the kicker. ‘Little creep’ was tame compared to some of the things she called him under her breath these days. She’d tolerated this for a full year already, but now the little creep was grounded. Restricted to the house. And turning into a monster.

  And, oh yes, there was more. Kicking off her shoes, she twisted in the chair, dragged her feet up and tucked them beneath her. Her son, the monster, was not playing fair. He was out of school for the summer now so he was there. In her face. Unfortunately, Allie didn’t remember that part of restriction when the word hurled from her in a moment of righteous wrath. Trey was never grounded before. But oh hell, he was making her pay for using that awful word now, wasn’t he? Television on all day, space aliens warring and machine guns blasting from video games at a brain-numbing volume. Snacking at an Olympic pace and trashing the kitchen in the process. Wheedling and cajoling, begging to be exiled to the mean streets of The Greater Phoenix Metropolitan Area. He was supposed to work for Jake this summer but she fixed that with her little plan, didn’t she?

  As if conjured, the door cracked open and his head appeared. Thankfully, the cacophony didn’t chase him this time. “C’mon Mom.” He rolled his eyes. “You have to let me go. It’s summer break. I can’t be stuck in the house all day.” When she didn’t kick him out again he eased the door open fully and entered the room, hands splayed. “Look, I’m sorry. I won’t take your car again without asking, I promise.”

  “Give it a rest, Trey.” Her words rode on an exhausted sigh. Giving up on the idea of reading, she laid her new book on the lamp table, tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Quit bugging me and I’ll think about it.” How many mothers around the world were saying those exact words today?

  “Well, think hard and fast, will you?” Trey hovered at her elbow, his words braver, animated. “All my friends are hanging out. Jax has a new girlfriend and she has this really hot friend. We’re all supposed to go to the movies tomorrow.” He finally paused to take a breath. “And Jake’s planning to take the boat out this weekend. Do I have to miss that too?” He laid it on thick, and was barely shy of rude.

  And then, as if the knife of ang
er, of frustration, of uncertainty, wasn’t already lodged firmly in her gut, he gave it a little twist.

  “You know, if you bought me my own truck you wouldn’t have to share.” Her eyes snapped open in disbelief. “I could work for Uncle Jake this summer and make my own money, pay for my own gas.” He had what he probably thought was the perfect solution to his problem, and a downright smug expression. “I could ask a girl out without asking you for money and –”

  Oh, hell no. “No way.” She surged to her feet, her face lifted so she stood nose to chin with him, her fists planted on her hips. “No way are you spending the summer hanging out with a… a… girl.” The idea of her only child ending life as he knew it on the whims of a short skirt and rampant hormones scared her witless.

  “And where on earth would you get the idea I’d run right out and buy you a truck simply because you wanted one, huh?” She was into it now. A finger speared his chest, punctuating each of her objections. “You’ve been a brat around here. You haven’t been respecting the house rules and you haven’t been respecting me.”

  He quick-stepped backwards. “I told you I was sorry.” Summer blue eyes earnest, he raked a chunk of hair from his forehead. “If I had my own truck I could even help you run errands. Go to the store for you, stuff like that. I’m growing up Mom; you can’t keep treating me like I’m twelve.”

  “I liked you better when you were twelve.”

  Trey merely rolled his eyes, went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Think about it, I could drive myself to school in the fall. I don’t know a single senior whose mom drives them to school. It’s downright embarrassing.”

  That’s it, go for the emotional hook. Someone was giving this kid lessons.

  “Plus, it would be easier if I have to stay after to study. My grades—”

  He was too far away to poke so she jabbed the air with one stern finger. “We haven’t even gotten started on your grades, young man! You’re lucky you don’t have summer school. Your GPA took a plunge this year; you realize that, don’t you?” Argh, preaching now. She took a deep, calming breath, a step back. And lowered her voice to a reasonable tenor. “Look Trey, before there are any changes to your punishment there must be changes to your behavior.”

  Oh, she liked that. Sensible. If only she had more practice with this punishment stuff. You’d think for a teacher she’d be better at it, but she was flying blind. Maybe she needed to buy a book.

  “I promise to change my behavior, Mom. Really, but you don’t understand.”

  Would he ever give up? She pinned him with a hard stare. “I understand you’re old enough to be responsible for your actions, Trey. The punishment stands. But I’ll think about what to do.” When he opened his mouth again, when his whole body said bluster she added steel to her voice. “I’ll think about it. That means ‘don’t bug me.’”

  She welcomed the interruption of the telephone, returned to her chair as Trey dove to grab the receiver at its first shrill ring.

  “Hello? Oh, hi.” Trey paused a beat, dropped onto the side of her bed, causing it to bounce, hooked his heels on the rail. “No, I was trying to talk her into letting me out of the cell block.” He waited again, glaring at her across the room. “Yeah, I told her all that.”

  Who was he talking to? Could be anybody.

  ‘No, I told her that, too. She’s still mad.”

  Trey stopped, listened to the mystery caller before continuing his rant. “Well, you said that, but she doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Maybe you could talk to her?” Another brief silence. “Yeah? Thanks Uncle Jake, she’s right here.”

  Allie surged to her feet, grabbed the phone from his hand. “You’ve got to be kidding!” She didn’t even say hello. “He’s harassing you, too?” Long strides took Allie all the way to the kitchen where she splashed white zin into a nice, tall tumbler and headed onto the patio.

  “Relax, Allie, he’ll be fine. He’s simply testing boundaries.” Jake sounded so relaxed and certain. When was the last time she was relaxed? “He’s never been cooped up like this. It’s hard on you but it’s hard on him, too.”

  She sank into a wicker chair. Took a sip but she wasn’t ready to give the boy a pass yet. “It’s supposed to be hard on him. But he’s not supposed to make it harder on me.”

  “Still torturing you, huh?” He had the nerve to chuckle, damn him.

  “Wondering if I’ll survive. I swear I’ll never put him on restriction again. I’ll find some other way to punish him. Or sell him to gypsies.” She huffed out a laugh. Stood to pull an errant thistle from the geraniums. “So what were all those mysterious things you told him to say?” Weed disposed of, she wandered the yard.

  “Nothing so mysterious. He was sorry, wouldn’t do it again. He’ll bring his grades up.” He paused a moment, glugged in her ear right before glass clinked on glass. Was he stretched on a pool chaise with a beer? She envied his calm, bent at the waist to tug at a dandelion as the sun inched over the horizon. “He asked me if I thought you’d buy him a truck.”

  Like a jackknife she unfolded, fisting the plant, releasing fuzzy white seeds to parachute on the breeze. “That’s unlikely. He’s got quite a bit of ground to make up.”

  “Understood, but he is supposed to work for me again this summer. You don’t plan to chauffeur him to and from job sites all summer, do you? That’s not much fun.”

  She unrolled the garden hose, dragged it to water her potted plants. “No, I’m not planning to drive him anywhere. I’m planning to keep him locked in the house.” But like a hissing teakettle with the heat turned off, she was losing steam.

  “Sure you are. What about when you’re done with your mad?”

  “Dammit, Jake.”

  “What if we go out, look at used trucks this weekend? Leave the kid at home.”

  Whose side was he on, anyway? “I suppose we could.” Really? “Wait a minute—”

  He cut her off. “Saturday work for you? Say eleven? I’ve got stuff I should do early.”

  Her shoulders stiffened before she blew out a breath, let the tension flow from her as water flowed from the hose, into colorful petunias that thrived in the warmth of late spring. “Why not?”

  “Settled. Now, Sunday. We’re taking the boat out—first time this season. You up for it? A little sun, skiing, food, beer. The usual cast of characters.”

  Allie found she could smile for the first time today as he bullied her out of her mood. “Sure, sounds like fun; I haven’t seen Michelle in a while.” She didn’t see the attraction, but was willing to make the effort for Jake’s sake.

  “She’s out of town this week; should be back home Friday.”

  They’d skied together for years, since college. With Ben. With Trey. She always looked forward to it. Flowers soaked, she turned off the water, rolled the hose.

  “Have Trey bring Jax along. Otherwise it’s all adults, too boring for him.”

  She ambled back to her chair, folded herself onto the cushion. “Nah, Jake. Trey loves hanging out with you. Don’t you know? You’re cool. Evidently I only think I am.”

  “Hey, Allie, Can you see outside? The sun’s going down in a blaze tonight.”

  “Darn. I’m right on the patio and didn’t even notice.” She stood, tugged her chair until it faced west and the ball of fire kissing the horizon. In two minutes it would be gone. “Now I know why some animals eat their young. Boy, that kid can rile me.” They were linked by the sound of their breathing, the sun continued its descent into the abyss, leaving behind a glorious array of color. Rosy streaks of fuchsia and melon churned together, trapped beneath low swirling clouds in a graying lavender sky. They were only moments away from the inky darkness of night.

  “Beautiful.” The word was breathed on a sigh. “If I ever moved from Arizona, I would miss that most. That and the stars.”

  “I love that about the lake. When we stay until dark and build a bonfire. There are always so many stars out.” Neither mentioned Ben, who would break out his guitar onc
e evening fell and everything settled down. Ben, who broke their hearts.

  She looked forward to Sunday, but Trey’s attitude still upset her. “I almost don’t want to bring him along. He’s given me such a hard time.”

  “He’s a teenager, Allie. It’s a lethal combination of hormones and unanswered questions. With a little patience, you’ll both survive.” Jake was such a rock. He could calm her out of her worst mood.

  “He told me about a girl he wants to ask out.”

  “Has he ever been on a date?” Jake sounded surprised. “He’s never mentioned one to me.”

  “To a dance at school, with a group, sure. But a date date? No.” Allie released a heavy breath. “I‘m afraid I’m blowing it with him, Jake. I’m too bossy, but he scares me.” A blanket of stars appeared, flickering on one at a time. Crickets chirped in the lawn. She tilted her head against the back of her chair and pushed off with her toes, rocking.

  “You’re the mom, Allie. That’s your job. And Trey’s a smart kid; he’ll use his head.”

  Her lips twisted in a dubious frown. “He’s seventeen, Jake. And like you said, he’s ruled by hormones. Which head will win?”

  Jake choked on a laugh. “Come on Allie, give the kid a little credit. Ben talked to him about sex years ago.”

  “Sex, sure. The common sense talk, that’s what he needs now.” The moon was a bright orange smile, hanging low in the sky. “But I’m just the mom. I may as well speak a foreign language for all he listens to me.”

  “I could talk to him if you want.” He paused, and a smile entered his voice. “Girls are evil, you know.”

  She chuckled in return. “How is it you’re so good with Trey? You don’t even have kids.”

  “I’m winging it as we go along, I guess. He’s a good kid, Allie. And I was a teenaged boy once.”

  She caught the wistfulness in his tone and would have bitten her tongue to bring the words back. She would never intentionally hurt him. And who else could she talk into the night with? Not Maddie, busy with her own family. Not Reese, tangled in the social whirlwind of her husband’s career. A yawn excaped.