All That I Need (Grayson Friends)

by Ray, Francis

  “I’ll give you my credit card.”

  Her brow arched. “I’ll pay for my own clothes.”

  “Whatever you say.” He came to his feet and reached for her hand. “I’ll get the car keys for you.”

  * * *

  Fallon purchased a stylish red suit, a black sheath, and shoes for the trip. She freely admitted to herself that she wanted Lance to be proud of her when he introduced her to his employees. If they decided to go out at night, she had the black sheath.

  She realized she was taking a chance that things would work out between them. She just believed that everything he did for her showed his feeling went deeper than caring. He just couldn’t say the words. Introducing her to his employees meant he wanted her in his personal and professional life.

  Her ringing cell phone intruded on her thoughts. Quickly placing her purchases in the trunk, she sat in the driver’s seat and answered the call. “Hello.”

  “Fallon, this is Mrs. Youngblood, Richard’s mother. I wonder if I could have a moment of your time?”

  Fallon tensed. “Is Kayla all right?”

  “She’s fine. In fact, I got your phone number from her, since I didn’t want to intrude on Richard and Naomi’s honeymoon,” Mrs. Youngblood answered. “I’ll come straight to the point. I want Lance and my sister, Irene, to settle whatever differences they have so we can be a family again.”

  “Mrs. Youngblood, I’m not sure you should be discussing this with me.”

  “I’m not asking you to get in the middle. Heaven knows how Lance would feel about that. I am asking you to see that he comes to the cookout at our house tomorrow afternoon. I asked him to come, but I don’t think he plans to. Has he mentioned it?”

  “No.” They were planning on driving to Ghost Ranch, fifty miles north of Santa Fe.

  “I thought not.” Her disappointment came clearly through the line.”Please help me help them. Irene is miserable. I caught her crying this morning. She says it’s nothing, but I don’t believe her. I can tell that Jim is worried, too. Lance hasn’t called once. Every night Naomi and Richard call Kayla at bedtime. It’s a reminder to Irene that she’s lost Lance and, if he does have children, she won’t be a part of their lives.”

  His aunt was right. Fallon placed her hand on her stomach. She wanted her child to have a loving relationship with his or her grandparents. Lance needed to let go of the past and move on. She just wasn’t sure he could. “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.” There was relief in Mrs. Youngblood’s voice.

  “I’m not promising anything,” Fallon quickly said, not looking forward to the conversation with Lance.

  “He’ll come if you ask him.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I saw how he looked at you at the wedding rehearsal, and how worried he was when he couldn’t find you later. He cares about you. We couldn’t be happier about you two.”

  Caring wasn’t loving, but Fallon wouldn’t lose hope that he’d get there one day.

  “Good-bye, Fallon. We’ll expect to see you anytime after twelve.”

  “Good-bye, Mrs. Youngblood.” Fallon ended the call, already dreading talking with Lance.

  * * *

  Fallon fully intended to broach the subject of going to his aunt’s house for the cookout, but when she opened the door to the cottage and saw several arrangements of flowers sitting around the great room she forgot all about it.

  “Do you like them?” Lance moved from the other side of the door and took her packages.

  “They’re beautiful.” She moved to the long-stemmed dark red roses, touched the velvet petals with unsteady fingers, smelled the haunting scent. From there, she went to the woven basket of pink azaleas, the creamy orchids, the fat white hydrangeas in a square vase, before stopping at a terrarium.

  “Like I said, I thought flowers were overdone.” His hands rested on her waist. “Until I met you. I figured I better make up for lost time.”

  She blinked back tears. “You did that and more.”

  His eyes narrowed as he brushed a tear away with his knuckle. “If you cry, you won’t be able to enjoy what else I have waiting for you.”

  Fallon brushed the heel of her hand across both eyes. “No crying.”

  Holding her hand, he took her into the master bedroom to a massage table. “The spa gave me an idea. I purchased some scented oils. I’m going to give you a massage.”

  She shivered with decadent anticipation at the thought of his hands on her naked body. “And I get to give you one as well.”

  His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed. “That’s the idea. First, we have a non-alcoholic sangria and I get to feed you chocolate-covered strawberries.” He handed her a chilled flute with raspberries floating inside and picked up one for himself.

  “What comes next?” she asked, sipping her drink to ease her dry throat.

  Lance placed both glasses back on the small table and took her in his arms. “We get to feast on each other.” His greedy mouth took hers and everything ceased to exist but the two of them for a long, long time.

  * * *

  Before dawn Saturday morning Lance woke up feeling as if he could conquer the world. The reason was the sleeping woman in his arms. It was going to work out between them. He was sure of it. Depending how the day went, he planned on asking her to marry him again. Until his ring was on her finger, there was always the possibility that she might walk out of his life and take their child. Just the thought churned his insides.

  She cared about him, but that wouldn’t make her stay if he did something she didn’t like. She was independent and self-assured. She was also loyal and loving. He’d use those qualities to bind her to him. He enjoyed seeing her eyes light up, the trembling smile. He wanted her in his life and he was going to do everything possible to make it a reality.

  Kissing Fallon on her bare shoulder, he pulled her closer and drifted back to sleep, silently praying that she would always be by his side.

  * * *

  Saturday morning, Fallon put off talking to Lance until they were almost to the car. He’d been so playful that morning that she hadn’t wanted to spoil the day for him. Last night had been incredible. The things he’d done to her with the rose still made her face heat up and her body clench. He was an excellent lover, an astute businessman, a loyal friend. He could be a wonderful husband and father, but not until he forgave and moved on.

  “Lance, there’s been a change of plans.”

  Stopping, he grinned at her. “Ghost Ranch isn’t going anyplace. I’d much rather go back to the cottage, too.”

  “Actually, I want us to go to your aunt’s house for the cookout,” Fallon said.

  The smile slid from his face. “Did you talk to her?”

  Fallon flinched from the anger in his voice. Instinctively she knew he meant his mother. “Your aunt. She called me yesterday while I was out shopping. She said your mother is miserable. She caught her crying.”

  “What about all the times I cri—” His mouth flattened into a hard line. “So you’re taking her side.”

  “No.” A wave of apprehension swept through her. She’d been afraid of this. “I’m not taking her side. It’s you I’m worried and care about. You won’t move past it. If you had, you could say her name and talk about her without becoming angry.”

  “Think what you like.”

  “Lance, I want our baby to have the love and support of an extended family,” Fallon said patiently. “I don’t want him or her to not know your mother. I also don’t want our child to think that avoiding an issue instead of working through a problem is the right way to handle anything. Face it and move on.”

  “You calling me a coward?” he asked, his voice rough and tinged with unmistakable pain. “Are you?”

  “I—” She faltered. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than she apparently had.

  “Are you?” he snapped.

  “Not in the way you think. It’s your emotions you run from when you think you’
ll be vulnerable. You don’t want to be hurt again, so you hide your feelings, mask them behind anger, laughter, teasing, intimacy,” she said softly. “My guess is that you’d rather walk over hot coals than face rejection again.”

  A muscle leaped in his jaw. “You think I had an ulterior motive for making love to you.”

  “If I thought that I wouldn’t have stayed.” She gently touched his arm. “I do think you’re afraid to let down your guard with me, to be completely honest about how you feel. Because of the past, you don’t trust women easily—if at all.”

  “I don’t need psychoanalysis,” he grated.

  In spite of his anger, her face softened. “Our baby needs his or her father to be a man he or she can look up to. That’s what I need, too.”

  “Get in the car.”

  Fallon didn’t ask where they were going. She had pushed him to the limits. In the passenger seat, she buckled her seat belt. Lance was furious, but he drove within the speed limit to the highway.

  She felt his gaze on her and met his stare. The anger was gone, and in its place was a bleakness that broke her heart. “You can do this. Let it go.”

  He pulled out on the highway, taking the road back to town and away from Ghost Ranch. Fallon wished she could relax, but she couldn’t. She’d pushed Lance hard. He’d kept his anger under control with her. Fallon wasn’t so sure if he’d do the same with his mother.

  * * *

  Lance was livid. His aunt and Fallon expected him to forgive and forget. It wasn’t that easy. He remembered as if it were yesterday. The incidents were indelibly marked in his mind. The punishments, the grounding, being made to feel like an outsider in the home he’d lived in since he was born.

  Yet nothing came close to the pain he felt when Fallon said their baby needed a father to look up to. The old taunt of not being enough came rushing back. Once again, his mother was trying to ruin his life.

  Lance turned into a residential street of one-story adobe homes and stopped in front of one painted yellow. In the yard were groupings of cacti, since his aunt and uncle traveled so much. Lance had good memories of this house. That was about to change.

  The door opened on the passenger side. He slowly turned to Fallon. “Remember, you asked for this.”

  “Lance—”

  Ignoring her calling him, he rounded the car and took her arm. “We can go through the side gate.”

  “Don’t be angry. Just remember Kayla is here,” Fallon said. “She likes you.”

  Lance opened the wooden gate. “I’m glad somebody here does.”

  Fallon’s eyes narrowed. “If I thought you really believed that, I—”

  “Cousin Lance! Fallon! You came!” Kayla was across the yard running at full speed and going straight to Lance, arms wide.

  “Hi, Kayla,” Lance greeted. “You save us any food?”

  “We have burgers and chicken and ribs. Aunt Irene said you liked ribs.” Kayla flashed a smile. “I told them Fallon likes all kinds of food.”

  “That’s right. Now give me a hug.” Fallon took Kayla into her arms, but Lance supported most of the weight.

  “Here you go, Kayla.” Lance placed the child on her feet.

  “I better get back to helping Gramps and Uncle Jim. They said they cook better when I’m around. Bye.” Kayla ran back to the two men and the smoking stainless-steel grill that was at least five feet long.

  Lance noted that Jim gave a halfhearted wave. Leo spoke and motioned Fallon and Lance over. “In a minute!” he yelled. “We’re going inside.”

  Jim started around the grill. Lance’s uncle’s hand on Jim’s arm stopped him. Lance grunted. This was between him and Irene.

  “You might want to keep going to the front room.” He went up the two steps leading into the kitchen.

  “Lance, don’t let your anger rule you. She’s your mother.”

  “Not since my father died.” Lance opened the back door.

  In the kitchen were his aunt and mother. Both glanced up. He was surprised to see the beginning of a smile on his mother’s face, and then it was gone. “Hi, Aunt Gladys. Do you mind taking Fallon into the front room? This won’t take long.”

  “Lance,” his aunt and Fallon said at the same time.

  He held up his hand, his gaze still on his mother, one hand gripping a wooden spoon, her lower lip trembling. “Save the wounded act.”

  He thought he saw her flinch and was annoyed to feel a bit ashamed. He reasoned it was because Fallon and his aunt were still there. Regardless, he cared about what they thought of him.

  “Gladys. Fallon,” his mother said softly. “Please excuse us. Lance deserves his say.”

  “Remember.” Fallon placed her hand over her stomach, then took his aunt’s arm and pulled her from the room.

  Irene stuck the spoon back into the potato salad, then came within five feet of him and stopped. It took a few seconds before he realized she was studying him. “Looking for flaws?”

  She swallowed. Shook her hair with wings of gray that hadn’t been there the last time they met before the wedding. “Before the wedding it had been ten years and five months since I last saw you. You look taller, but maybe it’s because you’re broader in the shoulders.”

  He didn’t want to remember, but he did. He’d gone home for Thanksgiving and left an hour later after he and Jim almost came to blows. “If you had wanted to see me more often, you shouldn’t have started dating six months after we lost Daddy.”

  She glanced away. “Jim is a good man. I’d hoped you two would be friends.”

  Lance folded his arms. “Not likely after he took a belt to me.”

  “He hit you twice across your legs. You were wearing jeans. The next day when you were in your shorts there were no marks.” She took a step closer. “The licks hurt your pride more than anything.”

  “You took his side just as you always did, the way you’re doing now,” Lance told her.

  “I wanted you to respect him as your stepfather. To respect authority, to learn that you can’t always have things the way you want.” She reached out to him, then let her hand fall. “You were understandably angry when your father died so suddenly and so tragically. I didn’t want that anger spilling over and getting you into trouble.”

  “You can lie to yourself if it makes you feel better. It won’t wash with me. You never loved Daddy, and you were glad to get rid of me every summer,” he said tightly. “I’ve succeeded without you. I don’t need or want you in my life.”

  “That’s enough!”

  Lance spun to see her husband, Jim, in the back doorway with his fists clenched. “You want to hit me again? This time, be prepared for a fight.”

  “No.” His mother placed herself in front of Lance and faced her husband. “It’s all right. Let it go.”

  “No. He’s got to know the truth. I won’t have him treating you like this. You’ve cried enough over him,” Jim said, his voice tight with anger.

  Lance’s mother paled. “You promised.”

  “I won’t see you hurt any longer for something you had no control over,” Jim said. “I love you too much.”

  Lance’s mother began crying, the sounds heartbreaking. He moved his shoulders as if to throw off his need to comfort her. “Is this some little act you two whipped up for my benefit?”

  Jim reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a little blue book and held it in front of Lance. “Take it and open it. It’s your mother’s savings account book. You’ll see that it was her and not your father who gave you the ten thousand dollars for college.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Lance snatched the book, then looked at the weekly deposits into the account. The week he’d gone to college there had been a withdrawal of ten thousand dollars, almost depleting the account.

  He was stunned. “Why?”

  Jim answered, “Because she knew you wouldn’t take the money if it came from her, and she wanted you to think your father had provided for you. He was a good man, but he wasn’t a busi
nessman. The house had a second lien that doubled the house payments five months after he died. She wasn’t going out as you thought; she was working. She didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to worry. Your father was making good money and could have paid the note if he’d lived. He didn’t. He left you and your mother heavily in debt. You worshiped your father so much, she didn’t want you to know.”

  “Jim, that’s enough,” she pleaded, and faced Lance. “I realize I waited too long to try and repair the damage I did to you by trying to shield you. All I can do now is ask that you try and forgive me. Don’t shut me out of your life.” The tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Lance tried to take it all in. He didn’t know what to say.

  “I guess I have to apologize as well.” Jim’s voice was gruff. “I hit you out of anger. Your mother was trying so hard and all you did was talk back and sulk. I thought you were ungrateful. Irene said you were hurting and confused, but I thought she made too many excuses for you. Every summer, when you went away, for the first few days she’d cry. She should have dusted your behind and made you stay with us.”

  “I didn’t want you to hate me any more than you already seemed to.” She sniffed. “You were always away from home. I was to blame for that. I’m sorry, but I thought I was doing what was best for you, helping you grow up to be a good man.”

  Lance thought of Fallon’s comment about the type of father their baby needed. He stared at the savings account book. The truths he was so sure of were crumbling around him.

  “If you can find it in your heart to start over again, you know how to reach us.” Jim curved his arm around his wife’s trembling shoulders. “Let’s go, Irene. Kayla is anxious to put the sauce on the ribs.”

  Irene looked at Lance with watery eyes. “You used to like my barbecue ribs. You and your father would go through a slab in nothing flat.”

  He remembered. Those had been happy days. “You sold his things.”

  She swallowed. Hard. “The memories were too painful. I thought giving his belongings away would help. I sold the comic book collection and whatever I thought could earn money to help with the house payments. I knew you wanted them, but I was desperate. We were already behind on the mortgage payments by then.”