FATHER IN TRAINING

by Susan Mallery

  "Don't be mad," Blake said.

  She forced herself to smile at him. "I'm not."

  "Uh-huh. Your eyes are getting all scrunchy. You're still mad at Kyle, aren't you?"

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "That's between us adults."

  "Lindsay said we won't get to see him anymore. Is that true?" He sounded lost at the thought.

  During the day, when her children were moving around, she thought of them as growing, determined people. But at night, in their beds, they seemed smaller and defenseless. Easily hurt by the pitfalls of life.

  "It's my fault," she said, and touched his uninjured cheek. "I shouldn't have let you kids get so involved with Kyle so quickly. I haven't decided yet, but maybe it would be for the best if we didn't—"

  "No!" He raised himself up onto his elbows. "No, Mom. Don't say we can't see him. The fight was my fault. Really. Gary threw a ball at Robby on purpose. When Robby started to stand up to Gary, I said he'd done it, too. So after he hit Robby, he started coming after me." He sagged back to the bed. "Kyle said if I'd tried to defend myself, Gary wouldn't have hit me. He said he's a bully and bullies only go after people who don't know how to defend themselves."

  Sandy blinked in confusion. "Who are Gary and Robby, and what does this have to do with your getting hit?"

  Blake took a deep breath. "I went over to Robby's to play baseball with the guys…"

  Her son gave her a more detailed explanation of what had happened. She listened carefully. When he got to the part about defending Robby against the neighborhood bully, she took his hand and squeezed it. "That was very brave of you," she said.

  Blake squirmed. "I didn't know he was gonna hit me."

  "Still, standing up for someone you just met isn't something most boys would do. I'm glad you did the right thing. What happened next?"

  "Gary and his friends chased me out of the yard and onto that dirt road. Gary said he was gonna beat me up. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't want to run. Then Kyle came through the bushes and yelled at Gary to let me alone." He grimaced. "When I heard Kyle, I looked at him. That's when Gary punched me. Kyle chased 'em off. He said the best way to deal with a bully is to know how to defend myself. He started to show me how." The unbruised side of his mouth turned down. "That's when you came in and got real upset."

  "I see." Sandy rose and walked to the window. She closed it halfway, then stared out at the night. From what Blake told her, Kyle had done what he could to stop the fight. Kyle had tried to tell her that, but she had been too busy assigning blame. Why? she wondered. Why did she always want him to be the bad guy?

  "Mom, can I play with Robby again?"

  She turned to look at her son. He hadn't had a friend in a long time. "Sure, honey. You can go over there, or have him come here. You two will probably want to avoid Gary, though."

  "Yeah. I don't like him."

  She needed to talk with Gary's parents. Then she realized she didn't know the boy's last name. She would have to ask Kyle. If he was still speaking to her.

  "Are you mad at Kyle?" Blake asked.

  "Not in the way you think. Grown-ups have different kinds of mad."

  "But we didn't go to his house for the barbecue."

  No surprise there. She'd told Kyle she wanted him to stay away from her. She flinched. She'd overreacted. She saw that now. Once again she'd reacted to the fear of not being in control. "You wouldn't have been able to eat anything," she said.

  "I know, but I could have, you know, been there." Blake looked at her. "I like Kyle, Mom. He's gonna teach me how to defend myself so Gary can't hurt me again."

  Sandy wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she didn't want to get into it tonight. "We'll talk in the morning. Right now, why don't you get some sleep?"

  "Okay." He turned onto his side.

  She moved next to the bed, then bent down and kissed his cheek, being careful to stay away from the bruise. Then she turned off the light and left the room. Nichole was already in bed, but Lindsay was waiting downstairs. Sandy wasn't ready to face her oldest yet.

  She paused by the top of the stairs and tried to remember everything she'd said to Kyle. It was all a blur. She remembered parking the car and starting to get out. Lindsay had come running outside and told her Blake had been in a fight and was bleeding. Her next clear memory was standing in Kyle's kitchen and telling him she wanted him out of her life. He'd tried to explain, but she hadn't let him. It was so much easier to make everything his fault. If it wasn't, she would have to look to herself. She would have to question why she did things. She couldn't afford to let her carefully constructed world crumble. It was all she had.

  She sat on the top stair and buried her face in her hands. It was all too confusing. Her body was screaming at her, yelling, "He's the one, he's the one," while her head kept calling her a fool. Kyle had the potential to break her heart and that had her running scared. She'd made such a huge mistake with Thomas. She'd taken a look at the exterior package and had assumed he was what he appeared to be. Who ever heard of a philosophy professor who went rock climbing and cut class to surf? She didn't want to be stupid again.

  So where did that leave her? If only Kyle hadn't asked her if she was ever lonely. By bringing the question to the light of day, she'd been forced to face reality. The truth was she'd spent her life being lonely. As a child, her days had been filled with secrets. Caring for an alcoholic mother hadn't been easy. After her mother had died, she'd expected to only feel relief. Instead, she'd mourned her parent. The move to Glenwood had allowed her to heal some, but she realized now it had come too late. She'd never been able to let go enough to be a child again. She'd crossed the line to adulthood and there wasn't any going back.

  With Thomas, she'd hoped to finally find a place to belong, a relationship between equals, where she could be both care giver and care receiver. She'd wanted to let someone else carry the burden for a while. It wasn't to be. She'd found that out the first week of classes, when he'd skipped lectures to surf. She still remembered how shocked she'd been. He was the professor. He'd shrugged off her concern by pointing out there were only a certain number of good surfing days in the fall, and he intended to take advantage of all of than.

  She'd tried to make the marriage work, but it was destined to fail. Thomas had been content to let her take care of everything and she hadn't been willing to let some things go undone in an effort to force him to help. So the loneliness had gotten bigger until it filled her life and left her numb.

  Sandy rose slowly and walked down the stairs. She stepped into the family room. Their blue floral-print sectional sofa blended with the soft ivory walls. She'd found an old rug in the attic and had aired it for a couple of days. The blue and rust tones brought out the colors from the couch and the hardwood floors, making the room look homey. Lindsay sat in the far corner of the sectional. She had the TV on, but the sound turned low.

  Sandy sat in the oak rocker she'd bought when she first found out she was pregnant. It felt like yesterday, but it was over thirteen years ago. She'd sat in the chair night after night with her hand on her belly, willing her baby to be happy and healthy. Lindsay sure wasn't happy today.

  "I've about had it with your sulking," Sandy said, throwing down the gauntlet. If she didn't jump start her daughter into talking about what she was feeling, Lindsay would spend the next week moving from room to room and sighing loudly whenever anyone was in earshot.

  "I'm not sulking," Lindsay said, glaring at her. "I'm simply wondering why you enjoy ruining my life."

  "How is your life ruined?"

  Her daughter rolled her eyes. "You know."

  "Because I don't want you to see Kyle so much? Honey, it's not good for you to spend too much time over there. He's an older man. You have these…" She paused, not wanting to make the situation worse. "You have these ideas about him, but they aren't realistic. You're still a child."

  Lindsay jumped to her feet. Her long brown hair spilled over her face. She brushe
d it back impatiently. Sandy recognized the movement as one she made frequently herself. They were more alike than they looked on the surface. Maybe that's why they were often at each other's throats.

  "I'm not a child. I'm practically a teenager. I'm growing up, even if you don't want to admit it. Maybe because I'm young and beautiful and it makes you feel old."

  Sandy forced herself to remain calm. "Talking and thinking ugly is going to make you ugly inside and out, young lady. I'm trying to treat you like the mature person you claim to be, but if you act like a child, I'll send you to your room just like I would with Nichole."

  "Please." She put her hands on her hips. "I don't think it's fair for you to tell me who I can and can't see."

  "I don't want you at Kyle's house by yourself." She met her daughter's mutinous stare. "I'm going to talk to him in a couple of days. If we get everything straightened out, then yes, we'll have contact with him. As neighbors. It's not right for you to be there all the time. He's got a personal life, and he doesn't need a young girl getting in the way of that."

  "It's not like that," Lindsay said loudly. "It's not. He likes me. You're being mean because Daddy loved me more than you. You're afraid Kyle likes me more, too. You're punishing me for that."

  She started to run out of the room. Sandy jumped up and grabbed Lindsay's arm. Tears filled her daughter's brown eyes. Sandy pulled her close and held her. Lindsay resisted, then sagged against her.

  "Hush," Sandy murmured. "We're all a little on edge since we moved. It's been a big change for all of us."

  Lindsay continued to cry.

  Sandy smoothed the girl's hair and wondered where the first mistake had been made. Had it been letting Lindsay go off with her father? Who knows what Thomas had told the child. Lindsay had made this accusation before. Sandy wasn't sure what it meant. She suspected her daughter was afraid her father had loved her more, and she felt guilty about that. Or maybe Lindsay knew how Sandy had been hurt. Sandy hated to admit the weakness, but sometimes she had felt left out of Thomas and Lindsay's special world.

  "I never resented the time you spent with your father," she said. At least that was true. She'd done her best to understand.

  "Really?" Lindsay raised her head and looked at her. "But I heard you guys fighting about it. You didn't want me to go."

  "That wasn't about you. I was afraid he wouldn't take good care of you. He was forgetful."

  "I know." Lindsay gave her a shaky grin. "He left me at a rest stop a couple of times, but he always came back for me."

  Sandy hugged her close. She didn't know whether to be furious or to laugh. It's a good thing she hadn't known that while Lindsay and Thomas were gone, or she would have worried herself to death. The important point was that Lindsay was fine now, and they were together.

  "I love you," Sandy said. "No matter what, I'll always love you. I know you don't always agree with what I say or the rules I insist you follow, but I hope you know I set them because I think they're the best thing for you. I don't make rules just to be mean."

  Lindsay sniffed. "I know, Mom. I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I was just upset about, you know."

  Kyle. Sandy was afraid there wasn't anything she could do about her daughter's crush except let it run its course. Eventually, Lindsay would discover Kyle was just a guy. Or maybe she would notice a boy her own age.

  Sandy stepped back. "Are we okay?"

  Lindsay nodded. "I'm going up to my room and read. 'Night."

  '"Night." Sandy walked into the family room and sat in the rocking chair. The TV continued to play silently. She ignored the images and instead wondered if she would ever learn how to be a parent. It felt as if every time she got one mothering skill mastered, her kids grew a little and needed something else. Maybe she should spend some time with Lindsay alone. They could do the female bonding thing.

  Or she could just curl up under a rock until all these problems went away. She sighed. One thing was sure. She was going to have to talk to Kyle. She needed to apologize for some of the awful things she'd said to him.

  He had every right to be furious with her. She couldn't remember all the names she'd called him, but she was confident she'd hurt him. She shook her head. Since she'd come back to Glenwood, she barely recognized herself. Her nerves were shot, her hormones in a constant state of arousal. Her body hummed at the thought of seeing him. It didn't make sense. She was dealing with a part of herself she'd long thought dead. She wasn't prepared for this; it wasn't fair. Her entire world was unraveling and she didn't know how to make the process stop.

  Tomorrow, she would talk to Kyle, she promised herself. She would apologize and ask him about that Gary kid, and find out where the boy lived so she could speak with his parents. Next, she would discuss whether or not Blake really needed to know how to defend himself. She hated to think of her son getting in fights, but she also didn't want him beat up. This had to be some kind of guy thing she would never understand.

  The list made, she was able to relax. It wouldn't be that difficult. Kyle was fair-minded. He would forgive her and things would go back the way they had been. He would be charming and far too good-looking, and she would resist temptation with all her might.

  She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that whispered the question asking what wonderful thing might happen if, just once, she forgot she was supposed to resist.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  Kyle folded the blank piece of paper one last time, then laid it flat to smooth the edges. He grasped the bottom and aimed toward the open glass door that led into the hallway, then he let the paper airplane go. It soared toward the ceiling, looped around once, took a nosedive for the floor and crash-landed about a yard from the trash can.

  Travis came in the from his office and stared at the crumpled plane. He glanced at the paper, then his brother and grinned. "Woman trouble. Who is she?"

  Kyle didn't bother answering. He wasn't in the mood to be harassed with well-meaning advice. He rubbed his hand over his chin and tried to stay awake. He told himself his sleeplessness the night before had more to do with switching from graveyard to days than it did with Sandy, but he knew he was lying.

  "Your silence means you don't want to talk about her." Travis sat on the corner of Kyle's desk. "Excuse me for mentioning it, little brother, but you look awful."

  "Good. I feel awful."

  "Is it Sandy?"

  Kyle glanced up into eyes that were the same dark brown as his own. All four Haynes brothers had dark hair and eyes. He was the tallest; Travis was an inch shorter. They were most alike in looks. He, Travis and Craig were most alike in temperament, with Jordan being the moody one in the group. But they all had one thing in common—a history of failed relationships. At least Travis had managed to make his second marriage work.

  "Maybe," he admitted.

  "That's a yes." Travis leaned toward him. "What's the problem?"

  "She hates me."

  "Is that all?"

  "Thanks for the sympathy." He wondered if he should just ignore the whole damn thing. That's what Sandy wanted. She thought everything that had happened with Blake was his fault. She'd been quick to judge and had refused to listen to his explanations. He shouldn't try to change her opinion. Only it wasn't that easy. He didn't want her to be mad at him.

  "So what did you do?" he asked Travis.

  "About?"

  "Elizabeth." Kyle leaned back in his chair and rested his heels on the corner of the desk. "How did you know she was the right one? How did you know it would be different from Julie?"

  Travis's first marriage had ended in divorce. He'd moped around for a year or so, then had started dating again. It had seemed that the Haynes curse was hard at work, until Travis had met Elizabeth.

  Travis studied him for a long time. "It's that serious?" he asked.

  "I don't know." He picked up a pen and studied it, then set it down. "Maybe. She got mad at me yesterday. Her son, Blake, go
t in a fight. She thinks I wasn't being responsible. She said a few things that forced me to take a look at myself."

  His brother nodded. "When I first met Elizabeth, I knew I was attracted to her, but I didn't know she was going to be the one for me. When I finally figured it out, I was scared as hell."

  "I remember."

  Travis grimaced. "The Haynes curse. Four generations of men who managed to screw up perfectly good relationships. I'd been faithful to Julie, and our marriage still hadn't worked, so I knew it was more than that. But I didn't know what. I was afraid we'd been born with a gene missing or something." He grinned.

  Kyle didn't smile back. Maybe his brother was right. Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with all of them. It would explain a lot of things.

  "Then I found out it was a lot simpler than that. I just had to decide."

  "Decide what?" Kyle asked.

  "Decide to make it work. I'd always thought I couldn't be a good husband or father. Look at what we were raised with. Then I figured out our father chose to be with those other women. He chose to be gone and ignore us and Mom. He chose to be a first-class bastard and I could choose to be something else."

  "As easy as that?" It couldn't be that simple.

  "It wasn't easy. I had a lot to learn. But Elizabeth has been patient with me and I'm getting better."

  Kyle lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward. He rested his forearms on the desk. "But how did you know she was the one?"

  "I couldn't imagine life without her."

  Kyle had spent most of the previous night trying to imagine what his world would be like now that Sandy had taken herself from him. He hadn't wanted to picture the long days, the silence. Even consoling himself with the thought that there were any number of women he could call hadn't made him feel better.