Playing Dirty

by Jamie Ann Denton

  Unexpected pain ripped through him. God, he’d missed so much. He glanced at Griffen in time to see her eyes go all watery. “How on earth am I supposed to make up for all the lost time with her?” he asked, holding his daughter close.

  “One hug at a time,” Lily told him. “One hug at a time.”

  * * *

  Jessie, her dad’s ten-year-old Border Collie, nudged Mattie’s leg. She bent down to pet the dog while her dad poured a splash of whiskey into a glass.

  “Care to join me?” he asked.

  She gave Jessie a pat on the side, then walked over to where her dad stood at the bar. “Sure.” She slipped her arms around him and held on tight. A Texas-sized lump lodged in her throat as she hung onto him, drawing strength from the steady beat of his heart, from his strong arms as he held her.

  He kissed the top of her head. “How are you, baby girl?”

  “A wreck.” She let go and took the glass from him, then went to the dark brown leather sofa and sat. Jessie trotted over to rest her head on her knee, staring at her with soulful brown eyes. “How much did Griff tell you?” Mattie asked, absently petting the dog.

  Tom fixed himself a drink, quickly downed it, then poured another. Her father had never been much of a drinker, but these were extenuating circumstances.

  “Only the high points,” he said as he joined her on the sofa. “All I know is that you and Trenton returned to find Ford waiting for you. Trenton is in Dallas and Ford is staying with you at the Maple Street house. Is there an actual plan in play to resolve this situation amicably?”

  “I don’t think amicable is going to work.” She let her head fall back against the buttery-soft leather and breathed in the familiar scents of her dad’s study. Peppermint, the lingering scent of vanilla pipe tobacco from a habit long forgotten, and a hint of lemon wax from the recently polished furniture. She wanted to cry, but was afraid if she started up again, she’d never stop.

  “You could be right. Given the circumstances, amicable could very well be off the table.” He placed a strong, warm hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mattie.”

  She turned her head to look at him, but couldn’t even summon a smile. “Ford isn’t dead. I just married Trenton. What does that make me?”

  “A woman with a lot of husbands.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You are not funny.”

  “That’s because I’m a physician, not Jimmy Kimmel.” He took her wrist and held it. She knew what he was doing. She wasn’t stupid. A girl didn’t grow up being the daughter of the town doctor without picking up on a few of his sly tricks along the way.

  Seemingly satisfied that her pulse wasn’t somewhere in the stratosphere, he let her go. “So what do you plan to do about the over-abundance of husbands?”

  “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”

  “Sixty-four thousand dollar question, but with inflation, you’re probably right.”

  “You are so not helping.”

  He chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose I am. So what questions should I be asking?”

  She frowned. “How about answering a couple? Like where were you? If you’re going to go off the grid, Dad, it’d be nice to have a little warning.”

  “We all need to unplug now and again,” he answered without answering. “I want to know why is it two weeks ago I gave you away to Trenton when Ford was still alive.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Now that is a ten million dollar question.”

  “I’d settle for a nickel’s worth of an answer.”

  She let out a sigh. “He was captured. That’s all I know. We’ve barely discussed it.”

  “Is he avoiding the question?”

  “No. He was more preoccupied with why I was married to someone else.”

  “Knowing Ford, that doesn’t surprise me.” He raised the cut crystal glass and sipped the whisky. “You are, after all, his wife. And Trenton’s, too, I suppose.”

  She hiked an eyebrow in her father’s direction. “Dad, if you’re going to keep pointing out the obvious, this conversation isn’t going to get very far.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, her father chuckled yet again. “It’s nice to see your sense of humor hasn’t deserted you.”

  “It’s the shock.”

  “Look at you...” The teasing tone of his voice belied the concern in his eyes, “...making a diagnosis with no medical degree.”

  She took a drink, then closed her eyes and let her head fall back again as the whisky burned her throat and settled in her belly like a ball of liquid fire. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “That’s something you need to figure out for yourself.”

  “Again...” she opened her eyes to look at her dad. “So not helping.”

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze and offered a wry smile. “Being a grown up ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

  “I’m going to turn in my adulthood membership card. If you need me, I’ll be in my room, playing with my dolls.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. The clock on the mantle above the fireplace ticked away the seconds. She finished off the whisky, then using broad strokes, gave her dad a rundown of recent events, including her plan to see Trenton tomorrow.

  “Can you take Phoebe for me?” she asked. “I don’t think it’s the right time to leave her alone with Ford, and I don’t want her there when I see Trenton.”

  “Does Ford know what you’re planning?”

  “I haven’t told him because I don’t have a plan. Not really.”

  “He’s your husband.” His stern expression was one she clearly recognized from her childhood. The one that wouldn’t tolerate nonsense or excuses. “You need to have this discussion with him.”

  “Until yesterday, I thought Trenton was my husband.”

  He took her glass, and along with his, set them on the side table before he turned to face her. “You’re a grown woman, Mattie Elizabeth. It’s no longer my place to tell you what to do. But I will say this... Ford died, or so we all believed. He didn’t leave you. He didn’t stop loving you. Can you say the same about him?”

  “That’s the problem, Dad. I never stopped loving him, either. I mourned him. I had a headstone erected over an empty grave. I buried him, figuratively. But I never stopped loving him.”

  “And what about Trenton?”

  She thought about that for a second. “I moved on. I had to. You know that.” The tears she’d kept at bay threatened to fall, threatened to drown her in a flood of memories and shattered promises. Summoning strength, she cleared her throat. “When I saw him...” Her voice hitched, so she took a moment, then tried again. “Yesterday, for those first few minutes, nothing, no one, existed except Ford.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she repeated.

  He reached over, took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Trust your heart, Mattie. Your head will try to talk you out of it, but always trust your heart. It’ll never let you down.”

  That was the problem. Her heart already knew what to do. She only wished she had the courage to trust it.

  Nine

  MATTIE CARRIED THE last platter of fried chicken to the dining room table. Behind her, Griffen carted the serving tray loaded with freshly baked biscuits, while Lily brought up the rear with a heavy glass bowl filled with about five pounds worth of potato salad. Her dad, Jed and Ford were in the family room watching baseball, and at last count, the Pirates were trouncing the Dodgers on their own turf.

  The table had been set with her Grandmother Hart’s wedding china that always reminded her of what an English garden in full bloom might look like. A crème, imported Irish linen tablecloth draped the long oak dining table, while rosy pink napkins decoratively held her mother’s anniversary silver. Nothing but the best for Sunday supper at the Hart residence.

  Lily set the potato salad on the table while Mattie moved the floral centerpiece to the sideboard
under the window. “You do a spread like this every week?”

  “For as long as I can remember,” Mattie said, taking the rolls from Griffen. Truth be told, she’d missed the family gatherings the years she and Ford had spent in California. He’d been gone so much of the time, she’d never bothered on her own. What fun was cooking for one, anyway?

  “It’s a Hart family tradition.” Griffen looked at Mattie. “And you don’t mess with tradition.”

  “But you cook this much food?” Lily asked, looking at the table laden with fried chicken, freshly baked buttermilk biscuits, country gravy, potato salad and grilled corn on the cob. “Every week?”

  “It is a bit much,” Mattie agreed, but she loved doing it. “Dad can scramble eggs, and he’s pretty good at managing the microwave, but I know he misses home cooking so I go a little overboard. That way he has some leftovers to get him through the week.”

  “That’s very sweet,” Lily said. “I admit, cooking is not my favorite endeavor. I manage, but nothing on a scale like this.”

  Griffen set two crystal bowls with whipped honey-butter at each end of the table. “Did you know Matt attended culinary school?”

  “That’s where you learned to cook?”

  “Actually, my mother taught me,” Mattie said, hoping she wasn’t being disrespectful to her dad’s new girlfriend. Now that was a term she might never get used to hearing. She and Griffen had suspected for the past year that her dad was dating again, but he’d never brought a woman home for Sunday supper until now. She took that as a sign that her dad and Lily were serious. How serious, she had yet to determine.

  “She taught all three of us,” Griffen added, “but it really took with Matt.” She went to the hutch for the set of matching salt and pepper shakers.

  Mattie retrieved extra napkins from the buffet cabinet. “I did fine tune my skills at culinary school, though.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Griffen said. “Her gravy can make you weep.”

  Lily frowned as Griffen left the dining room. “Yet you teach home economics. Why, when cooking is obviously your passion?”

  “For as much as I would love a job cooking in a restaurant, the hours aren’t conducive to raising a child.” She shrugged as if the decision to turn down three different five-star restaurant jobs hadn’t mattered to her. But they had. A lot. “I have a degree in education and I’m a graduate of culinary art school. I have a job that enables me to satisfy my love of cooking and share it with others, plus be home every night with my daughter.”

  Griffen returned with another large glass bowl, this one filled to the brim with freshly cut watermelon cubes. “Do you have kids, Lily?”

  “Two.” Lily wrapped her hands around the back of one of the chairs. “My daughter and her husband own a small organic dairy farm in Vermont. And my son is a psychology professor at UCLA.”

  “I’ll go round up the herd,” Griffen said on her way out of the dining room.

  “Any grandchildren?” Mattie asked her.

  Lily’s smile turned wistful. “Not yet. But I remain hopeful.”

  Before Mattie had the opportunity to question Lily further on the subject, Griffen led the crowd into the dining room. Normally she sat at the opposite end of the table, nearest the kitchen in case she needed to grab something she might have forgotten, but today she gave up her seat to Lily and opted to sit next to Ford with Phoebe on his right. Jed, Griffen and Austin sat on the other side.

  As he’d done for her entire life, her father said Grace. Thankfully, he kept it short, sweet and to the point. Before anyone managed to go all teary-eyed when her father offered thanks for Ford’s safe return, dishes were being passed around the table and the dinner conversation remained lively.

  An hour later, and after Austin and Phoebe had both been excused and Ford had devoured his second piece of her homemade pineapple upside-down cake, a good-natured interrogation of how her dad and Lily had met ensued. After several guesses which included a medical conference, a mutual patient and a chance meeting at a sidewalk café, Griffen said, “I know. An online dating website.”

  Her dad showed a sudden interest in his half-empty glass of lemonade. Mattie glanced at Lily, who blushed prettily.

  “Noooooo,” she said with a laugh. “Seriously?”

  Lily nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Our relationship is a product of modern technology.”

  “Dad?” Griffen asked, her tone chastising. “What were you thinking?”

  “That’s enough, girls,” he said. “You’re both bordering on rude.”

  “No disrespect intended,” Griffen said, but there was definitely a sudden edge to her sister’s tone. “I’m sorry, Lily. Forgive me, but I’m just a little surprised my father would resort to online dating, then spring one of his dates on us with no warning.”

  Thomas tossed his napkin on the table. “All right, now that’s quite enough. I’ll have you know—”

  “Mommy,” Phoebe cried, bursting into the room. “Mommy, look.”

  Mattie was grateful for her daughter’s exuberance if it meant derailing the current discussion. “What is it?”

  “Lookie what I found.” Phoebe thrust out her hand, palm up. “Can you glue gun it to my princess tiara? Please, please, please. I’ll be a real princess now.”

  Mattie took the sparkling diamond ring from her daughter’s palm. “Where did you get this?” When Phoebe didn’t answer, she asked again, “Where did you get this, Phoebe?”

  Her daughter’s chin wobbled. “I found it, so it’s mine. Finders keepers losers weepers,” she said in a rush.

  The princess cut diamond looked to be at least two carats, perhaps more, surrounded by a ring guard of red rubies. “Where did you get this, Phoebe?” Mattie asked again, thinking it might have come from her mother’s jewelry box. But she knew her mother’s engagement ring and this wasn’t it. “Were you in Granddaddy’s bedroom?”

  “No.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I found it.”

  “Where? Where did you find it?” Mattie asked sternly.

  “I finded it right there.” Phoebe pointed to the floor behind Lily’s chair, then scooted around Mattie and climbed onto Ford’s lap. “I wasn’t bad, Daddy. Promise.”

  “It’s okay, honey,” he said, hugging her close. “Mommy knows you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Actually, that would be mine,” Lily said, then looked to Phoebe. “Thank you for finding it for me. I would have been very sad if I’d lost it.”

  Mattie handed the ring to Lily, then looked at her father. “That’s an engagement ring, Dad.”

  Thomas let out a sigh. “Yes, it is,” he admitted. “We were planning to tell you today, but under the circumstances, we decided to wait.”

  “I took off the ring when we learned about Ford,” Lilly explained. “It must’ve fallen out of my pocket.”

  “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but the occasion calls for a toast,” Jed said as he stood and lifted his glass of tea. “To the happy couple.”

  When no one moved, he nudged Griffen. “To the happy couple,” he repeated.

  Griffen stood. “Congratulations.” She shot their father a look that spoke louder than words. Griffen was not pleased. At all.

  As Griffen left the dining room, Mattie hoped her father understood her sister’s reaction. When their mother had been sick, she and Griffen had been the ones, along with their father, to tend to their dying mother. It made sense to her that Griffen would take the news hard, because she’d been the one to witness their father’s grief first hand. She’d been the one who had stepped in when he’d been unable to, and she was the one who had held her mother’s hand as she’d passed.

  “Congratulations.” Mattie stood and went to give Lily a hug, then followed up with a kiss on her father’s cheek. “I’m very happy for you both.”

  For their sake, she hoped their happily-ever-after worked out a hell of a lot better than any of hers had done for her.

  * * *

&nb
sp; Ford poured two steaming mugs of decaf, added the two creamers to Mattie’s and carried them with him as he went in search of his wife. On the drive home from her dad’s, she’d said they needed to talk. He briefly wondered if he should pour them something stronger, because no good conversation ever started with, “We need to talk.”

  Now that Phoebe had been put to bed for the night, and it was just the two of them, he was a little nervous. They’d had a good day, and in all honesty, he’d been hopeful for most of it. Now, not so much.

  After determining the living room and family room were deserted, he checked the guest room and study. He knew she wasn’t in Phoebe’s room, but the door to the master bedroom stood open. Light from the lamps on the nightstands bathed the room in a soft, welcoming glow. He found her sitting on the chaise, staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand.

  “Decaf light,” he said as he handed her a mug.

  She breathed in the sweet aroma and took a sip before she said, “Thanks.” She cast another glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Have a seat.”

  He sat on the bed and faced her. “What’s going on?”

  She bit her lip. From their years together, he knew that was her tell. She had something to say and she wasn’t sure how he’d react.

  Shit. “Why do you keep looking at the clock?”

  “I’m timing an early response pregnancy test,” she said. Apprehension clouded her pretty green eyes. “I need to be sure.”

  The mule kick to his gut hurt like hell. They’d briefly touched on the subject before, but a pregnancy test made it real. Too fucking real. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

  He didn’t drink from his mug, only clutched the warm ceramic in his suddenly, ice cold hands. God, if she was pregnant with Avery’s kid...

  “Yes, but not quite.”

  She gave him a direct stare, one filled with a level of determination that took him a little by surprise. She’d changed over the years. Expected, but had she changed so completely that he wouldn’t recognize the sweet wife he’d left behind?