Baby, Come Home

by Stephanie Bond

  “He’ll be fine,” Porter offered. “He’s an Armstrong.”

  “I told Amy I want his name changed, but she said it was up to Tony.”

  “It’s cool that she named him after Dad, though,” Porter said.

  “Did you get a sense of how Amy and Tony get along?” Marcus asked.

  “From what I can see, she’s way too lenient, and he’s way too spoiled.”

  “So you’ll be in the middle,” Porter said, reaching into a cooler. “Brother, I think you deserve another beer.” He pulled out a bottle, twisted off the top, and handed it to Kendall. “Have you thought about how things might play out long-term?”

  Kendall lifted the bottle to his mouth. “Only that I want my son to live here in Sweetness.”

  23

  Sitting in the construction office waiting for the phone to ring, Amy couldn’t stop looking back and forth between father and son. Not only did they look alike, but they had the same mannerisms, she realized. They quirked their eyebrows the same and liked to steeple their hands.

  And at the moment, they were easy to observe—they were both ignoring her.

  “Thank you for the use of the office,” she offered to Kendall. “Hopefully we won’t have to wait much longer for Bertram to get back to us.”

  He nodded. “No problem. I just want to get this wrapped up so we can get back to work.”

  “I want that, as well,” she said mildly.

  “What do you think they’ll do to me?” Tony asked, chewing on his fingernails.

  “That’s not a very nice habit,” Kendall commented.

  Tony’s face turned red and he put his hand down.

  Amy shot Kendall a pointed look. “Your father knows,” she said to Tony, “because he used to bite his nails, too.” Then she reached over to squeeze his hand. “What do you think should happen to you, sweetie?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I already said I was sorry.”

  “Sometimes sorry isn’t good enough,” Kendall said. “You heard the attorney—you caused a lot of damage. The school had to be closed for repairs.”

  “It wasn’t just me,” he mumbled.

  “We’ve already been over this,” Amy reminded him. “It doesn’t matter who else was involved. I asked you what you think should happen to you. What would be fair?”

  “They should’ve made you do the repairs,” Kendall offered.

  “I asked Tony,” Amy said, keeping her tone light.

  “I don’t want to go to jail,” Tony said. He lifted his hand to bite his nails again, then darted a look at Kendall and put it back down.

  “Let’s just wait to see what the attorney is able to work out,” Amy said. “No matter what happens, you can deal with it.”

  He gave her a grateful look and she winked at him.

  Kendall cleared his throat, clearly disapproving of the way she was handling things.

  The phone rang and when she saw it was the attorney’s office, she put the call on speaker. “Hello, Mr. Bertram, this is Amy Bradshaw. Tony is with me.” She glanced up and remembered they weren’t alone. “Oh, and…Tony’s father Kendall Armstrong, is joining us, too.”

  She supposed she was going to have to get used to saying that.

  “Hello, all,” Bertram said, his voice brusque and efficient. “Okay, here’s the situation. The school is being cooperative because they understand the precarious position they’re in with leaving young Tony unsupervised. I’ve spoken with the dean of students and he agreed to speak to the District Attorney’s office on Tony’s behalf because he was a model student for the, um…” Papers rattled. “For the two weeks he attended. If Tony agrees to turn in the names of the other boys who were with him, he might be able to get off with time served at the school.”

  “And if he doesn’t give up the names?” Kendall asked.

  “Well, I was at least able to get the fine down to five thousand dollars. And he wouldn’t have to go back to the school.”

  “He’ll pay the fine,” Kendall announced.

  Amy looked up. “Mr. Bertram, can I put you hold for a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  She hit the button to exclude the man from overhearing their conversation. “Kendall, I do okay in my job, but I don’t have that kind of cash lying around. The attorney’s fees and the tuition at the school already set me back some.”

  “I’ll pay it,” he said.

  Tony looked at her, his expression hopeful. She knew what her son was thinking—that this having a dad thing wasn’t so bad, if he was going to be generous.

  “And you’ll work it off,” Kendall said to Tony.

  Tony frowned. “How?”

  “However I want you to. Until the covered bridge is built, you’ll go to school here and work for me after school and on weekends.”

  Tony looked suspicious. “But if I give them the names of the other boys, we don’t have to pay anything, and I don’t have to work for you.”

  “Trust me, son. If you take the easy way out, you’ll be paying for it the rest of your life.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me ‘son.’”

  Amy bit down on her tongue.

  Kendall looked at her. “Some help here?”

  “It’s Tony’s future, Tony’s decision.”

  “Like the decision he made to vandalize a school? We’re his parents, this is our decision.”

  Amy tried to telegraph to Kendall that if left to his own devices, Tony usually did the right thing. She’d raised him that way. But when challenged, he did what most of the Armstrong men did—push back. Amy chewed on her lip, playing out the scenario Kendall described. Maybe it would be the best way for father and son to get to know each other, to hash things through.

  “Okay,” she said, looking at Kendall. “We’ll do it your way.”

  Tony’s head come up. “You’re siding with him?”

  “We both want what’s best for you,” she said carefully. “And this way, you won’t have to go back to that school. Besides, I still haven’t forgotten the whole hitchhiking thing.”

  He scowled. She could feel his frustration. Up came the hand so he could chew on his nails. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

  Kendall looked at her and gave a curt nod, his body language easing.

  Amy hit the button on the phone to resume the call. “Mr. Bertram, we’ve decided—all of us—that Tony will be paying the fine.”

  “Okay, I’ll draw up the papers and fax them to you there to sign.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then disconnected the call.

  Anger and distrust vibrated in the room between father and son.

  “Now what?” Tony asked Kendall. “I’m your slave?”

  “Watch the attitude,” Kendall said. “A thank-you would be nice.”

  Tony gave him a look saying that was never going to happen.

  “Thank you, Kendall,” Amy said, then looked at Tony. “Now what happens is we get you enrolled in school here for this quarter. I’ll finish the covered bridge and you’ll finish school about the same time.”

  “Then we’ll go home?” Tony asked.

  She glanced up at Kendall. His expression was expectant. She looked back to Tony. “Yes…then we’ll go home.”

  24

  “This is going to make a wicked elapsed time video for the website,” Betsy said of the covered bridge work site.

  Amy nodded, understanding only about half of what the girl said. She had shown up every day after school to document the erection of the stacked-stone piers, the unloading of the materials and the staging of the timber pieces as they’d be needed for assembly. Four days into the job, progress was slow, but steady.

  Amy observed the young girl, so mature and creative. Her clothes were funky and unlike anything Amy would’ve worn in high school. “How old are you, Betsy?”

  “Fifteen. Why?”

  “You seem…older.”

  The girl smiled. “Good.”

  “Do you know my son, Tony? H
e enrolled in the school here earlier in the week.”

  “Yeah, he’s a lot younger than me, though.”

  “Yes, he’s twelve,” Amy said, smothering a smile.

  Betsy rolled her eyes. “All the girls are gaga over him, they think he has dreamy eyes.”

  Amy laughed. “Thank you, I think.”

  The girl took a few pictures, then lowered the digital camera and looked at Amy warily. “There’s a rumor going around that Kendall Armstrong is his father.”

  “Yes, Kendall is Tony’s father,” Amy said. It was getting easier to say, but still not so easy to grapple with. She and Kendall were being civil, but just barely. When he looked at her, his eyes were so accusatory, it chilled her to the bone.

  “That’s cool,” the girl said simply, then went back to taking pictures.

  The younger generation were very matter-of-fact about dealing with pieces and parts of broken and melded families, Amy mused. The casualness was a bit unsettling, but reflected reality. She still couldn’t tell how Tony was feeling about the turn of events—he breezed over concerns she voiced and gave her monosyllabic answers to questions. Mostly he kept to himself or played video games in the great room. Today Kendall was picking him up from school and bringing him here for his first “job” to work off the fine. They had agreed that Kendall would choose and supervise the chores.

  She hoped she didn’t regret that decision.

  “Hey, are you wearing your mother’s necklace?” Betsy asked.

  Amy’s hand went to her bare neck. “Not at the moment. I don’t want to lose it.” True, but disingenuous, she admitted to herself. She hadn’t worn it in days. In fact, she’d acquired an aversion to it because it had started to represent a connection to this town.

  At the moment her emotions were so confusing, she was grateful for the covered-bridge project. The steadfastness of building materials, the certainty of structural load and force, gave her something to focus on. There were a thousand details to handle with the foremen, and two crews of men to manage. It kept her mind occupied for the most part, but her thoughts still strayed to the two men in her life throughout the workday, and how they both managed to push her buttons.

  Kendall’s black pickup pulled onto the site. Tony sat in the passenger side. As inconspicuously as possible, Amy watched to see how they interacted. They both climbed out and scanned for her. Knowing she looked like any other worker in her hard hat, she lifted her hand. They moved in her direction.

  She noticed Tony was wearing sturdy work clothes—Kendall must have bought them for him at the General Store. Her son looked awkward and unsure of himself. Kendall, on the other hand, looked like a tower of power in work-worn jeans and a long-sleeve black thermal shirt that hugged his wide shoulders.

  It would be hard, she realized suddenly, to find out your father was a mountain of man with more strength in his hands than most men had in their entire arm. She had no doubt that Tony’s physique would be the same someday, but for now, his pre-adolescent body looked scrawny standing next to his father.

  His father. As they approached, Amy marveled over the sheer biology, the fact that she and Kendall had made this whole other person. And her midsection tightened with memories of how they’d done it.

  “Hello,” she called when they were close enough. She resisted hugging Tony, part of her new effort to allow him to look grown up around his father.

  “Hey,” he said simply, his eyes darting around the site…and stopping on Betsy, who was still taking pictures.

  Amy smiled. “Tony, this is Betsy Hahn. She goes to your school.”

  “Duh, everyone here goes to the same school,” he said.

  Amy opened her mouth to reprimand him for being rude but Kendall beat her to it.

  “Be nice,” he said.

  “Hi,” Betsy said with a tight smile. “I’m from Broadway, too.”

  “Then you know how boring it is here,” Tony said with a laugh, his voice condemning.

  “I don’t think it’s boring,” she said, giving him a look as if he didn’t know anything.

  “There’s nothing to do here,” he said.

  Kendall put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s about to change. See that pile of construction debris? I want you to sort through it. Put anything that will burn in one pile, and throw everything else in that green Dumpster.

  Tony took in the sprawling pile that was taller than him. “Tonight?”

  “Before you leave.”

  Tony looked at her and pleaded with his eyes for her to intervene. Instead, she gave him a wink. “Think of all the muscles you’ll build.”

  Kendall extended a pair of suede work gloves. “You’ll need these.”

  Tony frowned. “No, I don’t.” He trudged toward the pile, his body language sullen.

  “Suit yourself,” Kendall called after him.

  Amy looked at Kendall. “You could have one of the men move that pile with a back-hoe in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, I could,” he agreed.

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of you working my son just for the hell of it.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Then think of it as me working my son just for the hell of it. The boy needs to get out from behind the computer and those video games.”

  “He’s not a couch potato. He played soccer at his regular school.”

  “Not baseball?”

  Kendall had played baseball in high school. Between them, the Armstrong boys had dominated football, basketball, baseball and wrestling. Soccer hadn’t yet made it to the North Georgia mountains in large numbers.

  “I think he has a fantasy baseball team,” she offered.

  He frowned. “I’m supposed to know what that is?”

  “No, but you can ask him,” she said mildly.

  “He doesn’t seem to use any words. All he does is grunt.”

  She gave a little laugh. “It takes a while to learn to interpret his grunts.”

  He gave her a pointed look. “Except I don’t have much time, do I?”

  Amy couldn’t think of anything to make him feel better, so she remained silent.

  Kendall sighed noisily, then his shoulders softened, obviously trying a new tack. “I was thinking about a family dinner tonight.”

  Family. “The three of us?”

  “Actually, I’d like for Tony to get to know Porter and Marcus, you know, just us men. I thought we’d do steaks at the bunkhouse…if that’s okay.” Ah, Kendall’s family. Amy tried to hide her disappointment at the slight, as well as her reservations about Tony being pulled more deeply into the Armstrong fold. They were good people, but she didn’t want to lose her son to them. “What time do you want to pick him up?”

  “I’ll just take him from here when he finishes,” Kendall said, “and I’ll bring him back to the boardinghouse after dinner.”

  “Just remember it’s a school night,” Amy said. “I like for him to be in bed by ten.”

  “When he’s not hitchhiking?” Kendall asked drily.

  That stung.

  “Have fun,” she managed to say before turning back to her work, blinking back hot tears.

  25

  Kendall stood in front of his truck in the headlights that shone over the dwindling pile of debris where Tony still labored. The sun had set an hour ago. Kendall didn’t particularly enjoy working the boy so hard, but he knew it was good for him.

  Tony stood and wiped his forehead. “I think that’s all of it.”

  “Good,” Kendall called, proud that he’d finished. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  Tony walked toward the truck, glaring. “I’m too tired to eat.”

  “You’ll sleep good tonight.” Kendall opened the driver’s-side door and climbed in. “I told your mother you and I would have dinner at the bunkhouse tonight with my brothers. You can shower there.”

  Tony climbed in the passenger side, moving slowly. “I don’t have my soap and stuff.”

  “It’s provided. Are you shaving yet?”<
br />
  Tony wiped a dirty hand over his jaw. “No.”

  Kendall bit back a smile. “It won’t be long.”

  On the way to the bunkhouse, Tony inspected his hands in the dark. Kendall could tell they were blistered. The boy would learn. He remembered a similar lesson when he was about Tony’s age…over a similar junk pile.

  Emotion tugged at his heart. His father would be so pleased to see Tony, to have a namesake, to know the Armstrong lineage would continue. As soon as he changed the boy’s name, he thought wryly. Kendall hadn’t yet called his mother. He knew Emily Armstrong would pelt him with questions he couldn’t yet answer about the boy, and about Amy.

  Another tug. Amy Bradshaw would be the death of him. At times he was so angry with her over denying him knowledge of his son that he felt dangerously close to losing control. Her betrayal had cut deeper than anything he’d ever experienced. Even now, when he looked at Tony, he was bereft over all the moments in the boy’s life he’d missed out on, all the moments Tony had wondered about a father who wasn’t around.

  “What’s the bunkhouse?” Tony asked.

  “It’s where the men stay.”

  “Why do the men and women live separately here?”

  Kendall laughed. “Good question. Logistics, I suppose. When my brothers and I started rebuilding the town, we signed on two hundred and fifty men to work for us. But we realized sooner or later we’d have to have some women, or the men weren’t going to stay.”

  Tony grinned for the first time and it lifted Kendall’s heart.

  “So we advertised for single women, and we built the boardinghouse for them to stay in.”

  “And their kids,” Tony added.

  “Their kids came later because we didn’t have a school yet, but yes. Sooner or later as couples decide to marry and live together, people will start building their own homes outside of the downtown area. That’s how a community grows.”

  “So you grew up here?”

  “Right. Then I went into the Air Force and traveled around the world.”

  “Were you a pilot?”

  Kendall laughed. “No. I’m an engineer.”

  “Like my mom.”

  “Yep.”

  “She’s good at her job,” Tony offered.