“Brave boy,” said Ethan’s mother.
“Thank you.” Laura was still feeling a little shy herself.
Dinner, she discovered, was a pot roast. She put together a salad while her hostess finished dropping biscuit dough on a cookie sheet and, after removing the cast-iron pan that held the pot roast from the oven, popped the biscuits in to bake.
“If Ethan’s late, I’ll reheat his dinner,” she promised, but then cocked her head. “I do believe I recognize that engine.”
Laura did, too. Something relaxed inside her.
Selena glanced at her. “Ethan told us some of what Jake is going through and why. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. As long as you don’t say anything to him. I imagine, given your husband’s profession, you’re better able to understand than most people.”
Selena took the biscuits from the oven. “Did Ethan tell you I was a high school guidance counselor?”
“No,” Laura said in astonishment. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah. Ethan and his sister really loved it when they were in high school.”
Laura giggled. “I can imagine.”
“He had to listen to me at home, Ethan said.” Selena was almost straight-faced. “But that was enough.” The two women laughed, and she added, “Fortunately, there were two of us on staff. Ethan got assigned to the other counselor.”
“Whose advice you reinforced the minute he walked in the door at home.”
“Truthfully, I never really needed to.” Her expression softened. “He’s always been self-directed and...determined.” She rolled her eyes. “His sister, now...”
Laura chuckled. “He told me she was hell on wheels at a certain age.”
“Pretty well every other year. Honestly. They talk about the terrible twos, and I’d read four-year-olds can be difficult...”
“I was horrible at thirteen.”
“Yes, but six? Eight? Ten was okay, but eleven...” She shook her head. “I’m sure this sounds unmaternal, but it’s such a pleasure watching her take a turn as a mother.”
Both women were laughing again when Ethan walked into the kitchen. Laura saw his quiet satisfaction before he hugged his mother, then kissed Laura’s cheek. So, no secrets here about their relationship. And that expression on his face...got to her.
Jake appeared. “They’ve got a really great basketball court here,” he declared with obvious enthusiasm. “Ethan’s dad painted a free-throw line and everything.”
“I thought the seam in our driveway was about the right distance.”
“It’s, like, a foot off,” her son grumbled. “So I’ll get used to shooting from it, and then at the gym my shots won’t be right.”
“If you know the seam is a foot off, you can adjust where you shoot from,” Laura pointed out.
“What’s a little paint in the driveway?” Joe Winter said, sotto voce.
His wife gave him a scolding look.
Conversation stayed light at the table. It turned out that Selena was the gardener. She offered to share when she divided her fall blooming perennials, if Laura had room for any, and suggested a tour of the yard after dessert.
Nobody brought up the subject of what had delayed Ethan, and she didn’t see any strain on his face. His dad did grimace when he rose from the table to pour the coffee.
“Damn knee,” he muttered.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. He waited until his father had disappeared into the kitchen before leveling a look at his mother. “I thought the knee replacement did wonders. Made him a new man. How many times have I heard him say that?”
“Macho idiot,” Selena said fondly. “The new knee did wonders. Unfortunately, he needs another one, and he’s resisting. He is not a good invalid. He hated the week he spent in the nursing home after the surgery.”
“Yeah, I can see why.” Ethan’s forehead was creased. “His boss isn’t leaning on him?”
She blew out an impatient breath. “Who knows? I suspect he saves his groans for home and they think he’s hunky dory.”
“Damn it, he’s smarter than that!” Ethan glanced at Jake. “Uh...darn it.”
Jake cackled. “I’ve heard you swear before!”
Ethan bent toward him and said in a stage whisper, “Don’t tell your mom.”
Jake thought that was funny, too.
Laura tried to tell Ethan’s mother that yard was a better word for what surrounded her house than garden, but nonetheless agreed to accept any and all offerings for the new bed she intended to dig out around her now-spiffy deck. Not wanting to raise expectations Ethan didn’t have, she managed to evade a suggestion the two women get together for lunch, however.
Ethan left at the same time they did, waiting while she opened her car door to again kiss Laura lightly, and then laughing when Jake gagged.
“Kissing girls is fun.”
“Mom’s not a girl,” her son said, sounding revolted.
“Yeah, but, see, I’m not a boy, either.” Ethan grinned at her son. “So I like to kiss women. Happens as you grow up.”
“Not to me,” Jake said with confidence.
“Hmm.” Ethan glanced at Laura. “Do you have a recorder running? We’re going to want to play that back.”
“I have an excellent memory,” she assured him.
Jake rolled his eyes and got into the car.
“See ’ya,” Ethan said. “Lunch Monday?” His voice had grown huskier.
“Yes, please.” Her primness was ruined by the sultry note that surprised even her. “And dinner Tuesday or Wednesday?”
His eyes flared. “How about and?”
Oh, dear God. Was he hinting he wanted to be there every night? She knew that was what she wanted, too, but...she needed time. He knew that.
Somehow, she found a smile. “If you come too often,” she joked, “you’ll discover what we really eat for dinner most nights.”
“Macaroni and cheese out of a box?” He bent to kiss her cheek again, nuzzling just the slightest bit. His last words were soft. “Bring it on.”
And then, shaken, she found herself behind the wheel, waving at Ethan’s parents, who until this minute she hadn’t realized were still standing on the front porch, and at Ethan, too, who flipped a hand and strolled toward his SUV as though nothing of note had occurred.
Starting the engine gave her a chance to regain her composure. Not until she pulled away from the curb did she glance at Jake.
“Have fun?”
He shrugged, but not in that new, sulky way he’d developed. “Ethan’s dad is nice. He said I could call him Joe.”
“Mr. Winter is probably still more polite.” She didn’t add, If you meet him again. “I liked his mom, too,” she said. “Guess there’s a reason Ethan is a great guy.”
“Uh-huh.” Jake sounded abstracted. “Do you miss your mom and dad?”
“Yes,” she said, surprised at the direction he was taking the conversation. “I wish you remembered them.” They’d been killed in a head-on collision with a drunk driver when Jake was three.
“Sometimes I think I do,” he said doubtfully.
“You might. Most people do have a few memories as far back as two or three years old.”
He looked straight ahead. “I think...she might have been hugging me. She had on this apron with a black cat on the front. At least...I know Aunt Jenn has that apron now. So maybe I’m mixed up.”
“Mom loved that apron. She wore it a lot. She made the world’s best apple pie.”
“And Grandad took me fishing, didn’t he?”
“He did.” She smiled at him. She had no idea whether he actually remembered that; she talked often about her parents, and when he was younger Jake had loved going through photo albums with her. It was nice to think he might hold on to real memories of his grandparents, though.
“I kind of wish I still had my other grandparents,” he said suddenly. “I mean, I know they don’t like me, but...you know.”
She hurt for him terribly. “It’s n
ot that they don’t like you. It was...” As always, she had to struggle to explain the unexplainable. “Such a shock, I guess. And they felt torn between Marco’s family and us.”
“So they chose Marco’s family,” he said matter-of-factly.
Yes. That was what they’d done. If a choice had to be made, she even understood that one. Marco’s father, Rinaldo, had been devastated, as had his mother, Donna. Where could be safer for their young son to play than at his cousin’s house, with Jake’s father a police officer? She had had to make the excruciating phone call telling them their son was dead. Matt had been completely unable to.
How did I not know until then that he was a weak man? she wondered, not for the first time. If he hadn’t bailed on her so shockingly and finally, would their marriage have survived? Or...if he’d assumed the burden of living with what he’d done, might he have grown into a stronger man she could have loved again?
She shook off the useless speculation, the hamster wheel of what-ifs.
“You haven’t said. Do you see your cousins at school? Has either of them talked to you, um, recently?” She knew he’d hear what she didn’t say: since they quit bad-mouthing you.
“Nick did.” Tino’s oldest was a year ahead of Jake, a seventh-grader. “He sort of said he was sorry. And that he kind of remembered me. ’Cuz we played together.”
“Yes.” Thank God she was pulling into her driveway, because her vision had suddenly blurred. “You and Nick and Marco.”
“Uh-huh.” He cleared his throat. “He looks like me.”
She tried to smile despite the tears. “Handsome.”
Her son ducked when she ran her fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve seen him staring at me a few times. Like...” His voice trailed off.
“He’s curious.”
“I guess.” He sneaked a look at her, his eyes red. “I thought maybe, after Uncle Tino said he was sorry, that, I don’t know...” Once again he stumbled to a halt.
“They’d want to see you?” Her voice was thick. “I think, um, they do.”
Now he looked at her, his face a study in bewilderment. “How do you know?”
“Your aunt Emily called. One of your dad’s sisters,” she prompted, since it had been such a long time since they’d really talked about the Vennetti side of his family. At his nod, she made herself continue. “Then, just the other day, your grandmother called, too.”
“Did they...want to talk to me?”
“We didn’t get that far. I was so angry, I told them not to call again.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t say anything.
“I should have talked to you. It wasn’t my decision to make, not entirely anyway.” Laura bit her lip hard enough to hurt as she waited for his response.
“That’s okay,” he mumbled. “I mean, they didn’t want to see me then, so why should I want to see them now?”
“That’s how I felt about it.”
But he was saying what he thought she wanted to hear, not what was in his heart. Ethan had said something once, that she didn’t exactly remember, suggesting that it could be meaningful to Jake to be included again in his father’s family. To see their regret and acceptance. And no, he was unlikely to ever feel for them—at least for the older generations—what he would have if they hadn’t turned their backs, but could he build lasting relationships with his cousins? There were half a dozen who were within a year or two of him.
Even if she couldn’t forgive...could she pretend to? For Jake’s sake? Or, if not, at least give them access to him?
“Let’s both think about this,” she said to Jake’s bent head. “Your aunt Emily was a really nice woman. We were friends.”
His head came up, his eyes suddenly fierce. “But not good enough,” he said with a sharpness that echoed her anger.
“No. But going against the rest of the family would have been hard. Your Grandma Vennetti...”
“Dad called her a bully once.” Jake looked as startled at the recollection as Laura felt. “I don’t remember what she did, but he was mad.”
“Well...everyone does walk on eggshells around her. But being a strong woman isn’t a bad thing. What is bad is that no one ever stood up to her.”
“Not even Dad.” His tone was strange.
“He called it respect,” she said softly. The two of them had quarreled over his insistence that when Mama summoned them for any occasion, however inconvenient, they went. “He fought her more than anyone else in the family, you know.” This was a better memory. “She was mad that we didn’t give you an Italian name. And she wasn’t happy about him going to college. He could make good money being a carpenter like Tino, she said. Or what about a plumber?” Unconsciously she mimicked Mama’s cadence. “Your father ignored her, because he knew what he wanted to do.”
“Did any of the others want to go to college?”
“I don’t actually know.” She made a face. “I hope no one will try to stop the cousins in your generation.”
“I’m going to college,” he declared.
Laura smiled at him. “You better.” She unlatched his seat belt and then hers. “What say we go in the house? The neighbors are probably all wondering what we’re doing just sitting here.”
Opening his door, he asked, “Do you think they really wonder?”
Laura chuckled. “Maybe Mr. Wooten. You know how he’s always peering out between the blinds.”
“Maybe he’ll call the police.” Jake sounded newly enthusiastic. “’Cuz he’ll think we’re scared to go in. Like we saw someone through the window.”
“Right. Maybe we should wave at Mr. Wooten, just to be on the safe side.”
“Yeah!” Jake turned and did, and Laura stifled a giggle when she saw the blinds in their elderly neighbor’s front window quiver.
* * *
MAN, HE HATED STAKEOUTS. Ethan always forgot what a low threshold for boredom he had. He hadn’t been kidding when he said that about needing intense physical activity to allow him to settle down to a quiet activity or to concentrate when he had to.
A grin tugged at his mouth. Yeah, okay, he’d had some pretty intense physical activity today. Way too brief, though. He’d be embarrassed at his lack of endurance if Laura wasn’t as impatient as he was. They invariably shed clothes the minute his apartment door closed behind them, and often didn’t make it as far as the bed. He’d be developing a real fondness for his sofa, except he’d discovered the fabric was unacceptably rough on a bare ass. Laura had decided it was his turn to be on the bottom, and he’d found out why. Maybe he’d consider buying some new furniture... Except she had a great sofa.
Ethan contemplated that sofa briefly, but knew damn well not much if anything would ever happen on it. If Jake wasn’t home, there was the possibility that he’d come home unexpectedly. Even if they were married...yeah, the sofa thing wasn’t happening.
And yes, increasingly he was thinking that word.
He had a passing memory of walking into his father’s home office one time when he was something like thirteen or fourteen and finding Mom sitting on the desk with her blouse open and Dad’s hand inside her bra. Even as he grinned again, alone there in the dark, Ethan remembered his horror. Some things a guy didn’t want to see his parents doing. Not at any age.
He was reaching for his insulated coffee mug when a flicker of movement caught in the corner of his eye had him going absolutely still. For a moment, he didn’t see anything. Maybe it was a cat or—
A teenage boy. There he was, swinging down from his second-story bedroom via a tree limb. Had to be Austin March. Ethan touched his watch to check the time. 2:36 a.m. Mom and stepfather would not be happy to know the kid was sneaking out in the middle of the night.
Appearing beneath a streetlight, he didn’t seem to be carrying anything. He broke into a trot, though, and Ethan didn’t even try to resist his curiosity. Maybe it was the wrong call...but he wanted to know where the kid was going.
He let him get far enough aw
ay that Ethan was able to open his door and close it quietly. Then, seeing his chance when Austin disappeared around a corner, Ethan broke into a run, too. He stuck to front lawns as much as possible so Austin didn’t hear running footsteps behind him.
It wasn’t a long pursuit, only seven blocks before Austin faded into the darkness between two houses. Ethan did the same, moving as soundlessly as possible.
A low voice came to him. “Yo. I’m here.”
“You’re late.”
Damn, Ethan wanted to see the speaker, but the darkness was near impenetrable.
“The dickhead stayed up late watching TV...” The rest became indecipherable. He heard the soft sound of a sliding door. Damn it, they’d gone inside.
A light came on, but he could barely see it leaking around and through some blinds. Probably only a lamp. This kid—and something about the voice as well as the subterfuge convinced him it was a kid—wouldn’t want his parents to know he welcomed visitors at this time of night, either.
Pondering his options, Ethan eased behind a rhododendron.
Maybe the two had girls here. Maybe they’d stolen a six-pack or a bottle of whiskey and planned to get drunk. Or high, if they’d gotten their hands on something else. All...well, okay, innocent wasn’t quite the right word, but normal behavior for teenage boys.
He could go back to the Gelfman house, keep watch the way he was supposed to, make note when Austin got home. Or he could wait, hope to find out what these two intended.
He squatted down, back against a fence post to get more comfortable. Two boys, right age. Right neighborhood. Right time of night.
No, he wasn’t going anywhere.
* * *
FORTUNATELY, JAKE WASN’T any more talkative in the morning than Laura was. He’d slept through the night when he was six weeks old, and by a year old slept until eight or later. Not a morning person herself, Laura had been incredibly grateful, even if it was occasionally exasperating trying to get him up for school.
She was especially slow starting this morning. Sleep had been elusive with her brooding over her anger at the Vennettis and the question of whether Mama was right.
To Love a Cop Page 21
