She pushed her hand into her pocket and pretended she hadn’t noticed his reaction, but his leap from friendly to frosty stung. She was beginning to understand Paul’s concerns. Danny reminded her of a chameleon walking through a flower garden, changing with each new plant it encountered, unrecognizable from one moment to the next.
The firm set of Paul’s lips indicated his displeasure with his son’s behavior, so she wasn’t surprised that as soon as they placed their orders, Paul ushered Danny to the hallway leading to the bathrooms. By the time their order was ready, they still hadn’t returned, so she carried the tray to a table and sat down to wait. The aromas rising from the little paper boxes and grease-stained bags made her stomach twist. If the chicken fingers and onion rings tasted as good as they smelled, she’d bring Alexa here when she returned from Indiana. Alexa loved onion rings, and she always proclaimed the greasier they were, the better. She hoped Paul and Danny would hurry up before the food grew cold. The thought of eating cold, greasy onion rings didn’t appeal.
Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to find Danny behind her chair with Paul standing guard over him. The boy’s red face and watery eyes told a story, and it took great self-control not to pull him into her arms for a comforting hug.
“Miss Zimmerman, you didn’t hurt me, and it was impolite for me to pull away from you.” His voice wavered, and he flicked a look at his dad before meeting Suzanne’s gaze again. “I’m sorry.”
Her heart melted. She gripped her hands together to keep from reaching for him. “You know what? I’m sorry, too, Danny. You’re not a little boy, and I kind of treated you like one.” She tipped her head. “Is that why you pulled away from me?”
He stared at the floor, shifting from foot to foot. “Sort of.”
Paul gave his son’s shoulder a little shake. “Stand still and look at Miss Zimmerman when you talk to her.”
His voice wasn’t harsh, but Suzanne still cringed. The restaurant was crowded, and the patrons sitting on both sides of their table watched their exchange with interest. Suzanne whispered, “Maybe we should talk about this later.” She deliberately glanced right and left, praying Paul would take the hint.
He did. He cupped his hand around the back of Danny’s neck and guided him to a chair. Danny plopped down and shrugged out of his coat. Paul sat next to him, opposite Suzanne, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Let’s pray and eat, and then we’ll talk more in the truck.”
Indianapolis
Cynthia
Cynthia sat in the living room, television off, book open in her lap but unread, cell phone at her hip, and waited for Glenn and the kids’ return. The front door didn’t open until the supper hour. She looked over her shoulder at the trio, noting their flushed, happy faces, but she didn’t greet them. And they didn’t greet her, either.
The moment after they’d hung their coats in the closet, Glenn said, “Okay, buckaroos, go hang out in your rooms and study your Sunday school lessons. I need to talk to your mom.”
Cynthia’s stomach seemed to roll over. Hunger or apprehension? She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast nine hours ago, but she was pretty sure the reaction was apprehension. She rose. “What about supper?” Anything to put off an argument.
“We had popcorn and Cokes at the movie,” Darcy said.
“And Hot Tamales and Skittles,” Barrett added.
Cynthia gawked at them. “You ate all that on top of burgers?” Glenn must have spent a fortune. Theater food was always overpriced. With all that junk in their stomachs, they wouldn’t be hungry again until next Tuesday.
“Yep.” Barrett patted his tummy as he bounded past her. “Best day ever. Sorry you missed it, Mom.” He disappeared around the bend into the hallway.
Darcy followed her brother. As she rounded the corner, she glanced back and offered a sheepish grimace. But she didn’t say anything.
Cynthia sank back onto the sofa. Glenn perched next to her, almost sitting on her cell phone. She snatched it up, scooted over a few inches, and rammed her hip against the armrest.
He frowned. “Aren’t you tired of being alone yet?”
Of course she was. She’d hated every minute of the house’s silence while her family was away. But she hated arguing even more. She’d rather pretend the earlier disagreement had never occurred. “I was just giving you some extra space.”
Glenn’s gaze narrowed. “Mm-hm.” He stretched his arm across the sofa back, his fingertips brushing her shoulder. “When have I ever wanted extra space?”
She looked away. Her church friends often expressed envy about her closeness with Glenn. Although they’d been married more than fifteen years, they still behaved like newlyweds—holding hands when they walked, sneaking a kiss when no one was looking, sitting close with his arm around her. After a childhood of no affection, she relished Glenn’s demonstrative nature and also relished reciprocating. Their behavior embarrassed their children, but they’d never cared. They loved each other and weren’t averse to showing it.
So why had she moved away when he sat down next to her? She wished she understood her tumultuous emotions.
“Cyn?”
She angled her head so she could peek at him out of the corner of her eye. The disappointment on his face pierced her. She averted her gaze.
“This afternoon was awful. Being out with the kids but without you…I felt like something was missing.”
“Something was missing.” His statement described the way she’d felt her entire life. First she missed the nurture of loving parents, then she missed the precious baby girl she gave away. She thought Glenn understood because he’d grown up in the same kind of household she had. They’d compared notes when they met in the class designed for family members of alcoholics and had found so many similarities between their childhoods. Those shared experiences had initially drawn them together, and when love blossomed between them, the remembered hurts from their past had led them to commit to never inflict that kind of harm on each other or their children. They’d honored it, too. Until now.
She forced a reply past the knot in her throat. “I know.”
“I don’t want another day like this one. With you holding yourself away from the rest of us.”
Tears both of deep hurt and great frustration stung behind her nose. He’d left her alone all day, not the other way around. She swallowed the words that would surely lead to a quarrel.
“Darcy, Barrett, and I are your family. They need your attention, and I do, too. Putting your whole focus on finding your baby girl isn’t fair to me, and it’s especially unfair to—”
Her cell phone rang. Owen Mallory’s name and number appeared on the screen. With a cry of elation, she leaped from the couch and tapped the Accept button. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Allgood, hello. Owen Mallory here.”
“Yes.” Her breath released in short puffs, and her hand shook so badly she feared she’d drop the phone. She gripped it two-handed and pressed it tight to her ear. “What did you find out?”
Glenn pushed off the couch and left the room.
Arborville
Paul
Only six fifteen and already dark. Paul had never liked the short days of winter. And he especially disliked it this evening. The blackness outside the vehicle matched the dark mood inside. Although Danny had relaxed and chatted a little bit while they ate, once they left the restaurant, his surly attitude returned. He sat in the middle of the seat with his shoulders hunched and his arms folded tight across his chest.
Suzy seemed tense, too, sitting stiffly with her linked hands gripped in her lap. The pale light from the dashboard highlighted her tight lips and furrowed brow. Her uncomfortable pose unsettled him. Or maybe the greasy onion rings were responsible for the roiling in his stomach. Either way, he wished the miles would pass quickly. This evening hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.
With the city behind them and a quieter stretch of highway to travel, he placed his hand on Danny’s knee and gave a little squeez
e. “Okay, Son. You can finish your apology now.”
Danny sent a pleading look at Paul. “Do I have to?”
For one moment Paul considered relenting. He was weary of battling his son, weary of feeling like the bad guy. Being the sole provider he could handle. He’d even pretty well settled into being the sole caretaker. But the sole disciplinarian? That wore him down. Only the biblical admonition about training up a child in the way he should go prompted him to speak firmly. “Yes, Son, you do. Because when you’ve wronged someone, you need to set things right.”
Suzy suddenly shifted to face him. “Paul, maybe Danny has reasons he’d rather not share with a stranger.”
“You aren’t a stranger. You and I are—” Paul clamped his mouth closed. They were…what? Employer and employee? Friends? Old lovers? The last thought put a bitter taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t lecture Danny about setting things right when he’d failed miserably to do so in his own life. He fisted the cold plastic steering wheel and glared ahead.
“You wanna know why I pulled away?” Danny hunkered so low it appeared half his head was swallowed by his coat. The quilted nylon muffled his voice. “It’s ’cause only a mom should fix a boy’s hair. Like Jeremy’s mom does to him, and Jay’s mom does. I let you comb my hair sometimes, Dad, because you’re my dad and…and I don’t have a mom to do it. But nobody else should.”
Sympathy pursed Suzanne’s face, proving Danny’s statement tugged at her heart, but Paul wasn’t so easily moved. A woman touching his hair shouldn’t create so much resentment. There had to be more to his son’s behavior than that. And his explanation didn’t address the way he’d flip-flopped from cooperative to contrary at school. Would Danny next accuse the teacher, Mr. Brungardt, of acting like his mother?
Paul said, “Well, I think—”
Suzy turned her gentle smile on Danny. “Thank you for explaining why it bothered you for me to touch your hair. Now may I tell you why I did it?”
Danny, still half-hidden within the folds of his collar, angled his face toward Suzy. “Yeah. I guess.”
“You see, I’m a mom. And moms are funny people. When they see a mess, they want to clean it up. When they see an unmade bed, they want to make it. When they see a dirty face, they want to lick their finger and wipe it clean.”
Danny snickered. Paul bit the insides of his cheeks to hold back his smile. “So when they see somebody’s hair going in directions it shouldn’t, they want to put it back where it belongs.” She leaned down and lowered her voice. “Want to hear a secret?”
Danny popped out of his coat and said, “What?” Then he hunkered in again.
“One time when your dad was working at my mother’s house, his hair got all messed up because he had sawdust in it and he’d rubbed his hand over his head to get rid of the sawdust. And when I saw how messed up it was, I almost fixed it.”
Paul’s stomach jumped straight into his chest—one big leap. He struggled to breathe.
Danny emerged slowly, like a timid turtle from its shell. “You did?”
She nodded. “See? It’s not just you. It’s everybody, and it’s because I’m a mom. Moms are just”—she held her hands outward in a gesture of defeat—“weird.”
A grin grew on Danny’s face. He giggled, glanced at Paul, and giggled again. “That’s really funny how you wanted to fix Dad’s hair.”
Paul tried to ignore both of them as he turned off the highway onto the dirt road leading to Arborville. But it was hard. He sensed Suzy’s gaze on him as she spoke again.
“I know. I have to watch myself. This being a mom thing…It can get you in trouble if you aren’t careful.”
Did she know how his pulse was pounding, thinking about her running her fingers through his hair? He wouldn’t pull away like Danny had. In fact, he might return the favor and weave his fingers through her thick, wavy locks. Even twenty years after he’d last touched her silky tresses, he remembered how they felt. Downy soft and—
“Paul?”
He jerked the steering wheel. “What?”
“You just drove right past the lane to my farmhouse.”
Heat blazed his face. “Oh. Sorry.” He slowed the truck and brought it to a halt. Then, berating himself for getting so lost in the past, he performed a three-point turn and reversed his direction. When he pulled up to the house, he put the gearshift into Park and set the emergency brake.
“Danny, stay put. I’m going to walk Su—Miss Zimmerman to the door.”
“Okay. Put your hood up.”
Paul cleared his throat. “Don’t be smart.”
His son had the audacity to snicker. And Suzy grinned. Were the two of them now in cahoots against him? He slammed out of the truck and rounded the hood to open the door for Suzy. As he did so, the dome light’s glow flowed over her and Danny, and he caught Danny whispering something in Suzy’s ear.
She must have found whatever he said pleasing, because a smile broke across her face.
“I’ll see what I can do. Good night now, Danny.”
Paul helped her out of the truck and then offered his elbow. The porch light didn’t reach all the way across the steppingstones. Small solar lanterns lined the pathway, but their multicolored globes offered minimal illumination. Deep shadows made the crossing less secure. No gentleman would let a lady stumble. Even if the lady’s presence was making his stomach twirl like leaves in a tornado.
With the sun’s descent, the wind had calmed, but the air was still cold. So he didn’t dally as he led her to the porch. They reached the steps and Suzy released his arm. “I’m fine now. You don’t need to walk me to the door.”
“Oh. All right.” Why did it disappoint him that she wanted him to leave her there at the base of the steps? He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Thanks for going with us. Even though you and Danny didn’t talk a lot, I might have picked up a few clues to his change in behavior.”
A tender look crept across her face. “Paul, to be honest, I think he’s just realizing how his family is different from his friends’, and he’s struggling with it. Don’t be too hard on him.”
He drew back slightly. “Do you think I’m too hard on him?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed her hands into her pockets and pressed her elbows tight to her sides. “What happened in the bathroom?”
“What happened in the truck right before you got out?”
Her fine eyebrows pulled down. “What?”
“Danny and you were talking. What did he tell you?”
“Oh, Paul.” She laughed, her breath forming a cloud that breezed past his cheek. “That wasn’t anything to worry about.”
He planted his feet wide. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
She sighed, creating another little puff of condensation. “He just asked if baking was a mom-thing, too, and if so, could I bake him one of Alexa’s chocolate cakes.”
Paul dropped his jaw. “He asked you to bake him a cake after he—” He shook his head. “That boy. As brazen as the prodigal son demanding his early inheritance.”
“You never told me what happened in the bathroom.”
He borrowed her statement. “That wasn’t anything to worry about.”
“In other words, mind my own business, huh?” Not even a hint of rancor colored her tone.
He couldn’t resist a grin. “Sort of.”
She bounced in place. “Fair enough. But—”
“Suzy, you’re cold.” Why was he protective of her? The feeling didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t deny it. “You need to go in.”
“In a minute. Listen to me, please.” She placed her hand on his forearm, the touch light but enough to seal him in place. “Alexa went through spells when she longed for a father. During those times she was moody and unpredictable. Sometimes children know they’re sad, but they don’t understand why, so they react the only way they know how—with frustration. Not frustration at you, although it can feel that way, but frustration with the situation. My getting angry at Al
exa never helped her deal with her desire to have a daddy, and your getting angry at Danny won’t help him, either, if he’s longing for his mom.”
Paul pulled in a breath. “So I shouldn’t have given him a swat when I took him to the bathroom?”
She smiled, and he suspected she’d already guessed what took place in there. “Not necessarily. If you really believe his behavior was deliberately disrespectful, then punishment is appropriate. But…” Her fingers closed around his arm. “Don’t punish him for missing his mom. He lost someone he loved, and he’s bound to mourn.”
“But it’s been more than three years.” Long enough for both Danny and him to move on. To another relationship, perhaps? He shoved that thought aside. “Shouldn’t his mourning be done?”
Sadness pinched her features. “You can’t put an expiration stamp on mourning. Time doesn’t matter nearly as much as the heart. Danny might mourn more intensely now because he’s old enough to understand better what he lost.”
Paul hadn’t considered that. Didn’t he go through spells when he missed Karina more than at other times? Why shouldn’t Danny suffer the same waves of stronger mourning? He put his hand over hers and pressed hard. “Thank you, Suzy. That makes sense.”
“No problem.”
He forced a short laugh. “How’d you get so smart, anyway?”
She seemed to drift away for a moment, her expression dreamy. “I was lucky to have two very wise people mentoring me while I raised Alexa. Their advice was always prayed over and carefully given. I’m just passing a little bit of it along to you.”
“Are you talking about the couple who took Alexa to Indiana with them?” Some people in town had questioned her wisdom in allowing Alexa to travel with the pair.
“Yes. They kept me from overreacting to my two-year-old’s temper tantrums and my twelve-year-old’s bids for independence. I d-don’t know what I w-would have d-done without them.”
“You’re shivering so hard you can’t even talk. Time to go in.”
“But I wanted t-to tell y-you—”
When Love Returns Page 13
