About That Man

by Sherryl Woods

  “Why? What could my relationship with my kids possibly matter to you?”

  “It just seems to me that in any acrimonious divorce it’s the kids who wind up suffering, and none of what happened is their fault.”

  “To hear their mother tell it, I wasn’t much of a father before the divorce. She doesn’t think anything’s changed.” He shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that. You’ll probably race right on over to share it with Frances Jackson, but I can save you the trouble. I told her myself.”

  Daisy was shocked by his accusation. “Why would I do that?”

  “You don’t want me to take Tommy, do you?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “No. I love having him here. But I also know he needs to know he has family out there.”

  Walker shot her a rueful grin. “Out there? Not front and center?”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “Do I? Are you really that selfless, Daisy Spencer?”

  “Why do you ask that as if it’s some sort of crime?”

  He shrugged. “Not a crime, just unusual. Frankly, it bugs the daylights out of me.”

  She tried not to let the comment hurt, but it did. She fought to keep him from realizing it, though. “I can see where it might,” she said lightly. “Since you’re so obviously unfamiliar with the concept. Feeling a little guilty, perhaps?”

  “Maybe,” he admitted.

  His candor surprised her. “Good for you. Maybe there’s hope for you, after all.”

  “I wouldn’t place any bets on it.”

  “Can I ask you something personal, Detective?”

  “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all along?” He grinned. “This must be a doozy, if you’re asking permission.”

  She frowned at his teasing. “I’m serious.”

  “Then, by all means, ask away.”

  “Do you love your children?”

  “Of course,” he said without hesitation.

  “Miss them?”

  He leveled a look into her eyes. “You cut straight through the garbage, don’t you?”

  “I try.”

  “Okay, yes, I miss them. Having them with me for the occasional holiday and two weeks in the summer breaks my heart, but it’s the way it had to be.”

  “Why? Because it was easier than fighting for more?”

  He stood up and began to pace, avoiding her gaze.

  “Walker?” she prodded.

  “No,” he said finally, his expression anguished. “Because that was all I deserved.”

  “According to whom? The court?”

  “My ex-wife.”

  “Under the circumstances, I imagine she was fairly biased.”

  “Justifiably so.” He met her gaze then. “Look, Daisy, I’m not going to try to put a pretty spin on things. My marriage fell apart within four years. I spent too much time on the job. And when I wasn’t at work, I was thinking about it. Being a cop in D.C. can become an all-consuming mission. Laurie warned me time and again, she wanted more from me. More time. More attention. More fun. I constantly felt like I was being torn in two.”

  “And in the end she concluded that you loved your work more than you did her,” Daisy guessed.

  “Exactly.”

  “Was she right?”

  “In a way, I suppose she was. I just know I was tired of all the fighting, tired of putting the kids through it. There was no way I was ever going to be able to give her what she wanted, so I agreed to a divorce. I agreed to let her move home to North Carolina with the kids. I thought maybe once she was there she’d be happy, and that could only be good for the kids, right?”

  “And is she happy?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “And your children?”

  “They’re doing okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  He scowled at her. “Look, what do you want me to say? They’ve got aunts, uncles and cousins around. They have a yard to play in and good schools. They have a grandmother who bakes them cookies and a grandfather who will play checkers with them.”

  “They don’t have their dad,” Daisy pointed out quietly.

  “Dammit, Daisy, I’ve made peace with this. What business is it of yours, anyway?”

  “None,” she conceded. “Except that it says a lot about the kind of life Tommy could expect to have with you.”

  “There’s no comparison. This situation is entirely different,” he said defensively.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Tommy doesn’t even belong to you. How much can he possibly expect, given the way you’ve abandoned your responsibilities with your own sons?”

  “Leave it alone,” he said, glowering at her. “Just leave it the hell alone.”

  With that, he whirled around, grabbed his shirt and took off around the side of the house.

  She followed him. “Walker!”

  His pace never even slowed.

  “What should I tell Tommy when he gets back?” she shouted after him.

  He turned then, and Daisy was almost certain she caught the sheen of tears in his eyes, but the moisture could have been caused by the sun’s glare rather than emotion.

  He hesitated, then said gruffly, “Tell him I’ll see him in the morning before I go back to D.C.”

  Though his decision to leave a day early wasn’t unexpected, her heart fell. She’d pushed too hard, and now Tommy would pay the price.

  “Come back for dinner,” she pleaded.

  “I can’t.”

  “Other plans?” she mocked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  She regarded him doubtfully. “What plans?”

  He stared hard at her, radiating a mix of indignation and defiance. “Not that it’s any of your business, Ms. Spencer, but I plan to spend the evening getting stinking drunk.”

  He hammered the words at her, then watched for her reaction. Daisy knew he expected shock or disgust, but she refused to show either one.

  “Suit yourself,” she said mildly.

  “That’s it? Just ‘suit yourself’?” He mimicked her prim tone in a way clearly intended to goad her.

  “Did you expect a lecture?” she asked, not rising to the bait. “You’re a grown man, Walker. You’ll do whatever you want to do, whether I approve of it or not.”

  “You’ve got that right,” he said belligerently.

  Daisy hid a smile. He sounded just like Tommy, trying to be tough when he already knew he was in the wrong.

  Deliberately ignoring him, she stood, brushed imaginary lint from her slacks, then headed for the backyard. She paused one last time before turning the corner.

  Walker stood as if he’d been rooted to the same spot in the sidewalk.

  As Daisy was about to go inside, she finally spared him one last glance. “Dinner’s at seven if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  She smiled. “Whatever.”

  She allowed the door to swing shut behind her, then leaned against the jamb. Only when she heard his muttered curse did she allow herself a full-fledged grin.

  And then she began to set three places at the table. Walker might be furious with her. He might be genuinely convinced he was a lousy father. He might be thoroughly confused about whether he wanted Tommy in his life. But he would be back. He would never willingly hurt his nephew by staying away. She was as sure of that as she was that the sun would streak through the sky in the east in the morning and set the river ablaze.

  9

  Walker flatly refused to go waltzing back to Daisy’s for dinner, tail tucked between his legs. He knew that’s what she expected. The woman thought she had him all figured out.

  Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. Either way, he didn’t intend to let her get the idea that she could manipulate him, and that was exactly what she was trying to do. Whatever, indeed. She was about as indifferent to his decision as he was to those delectable curves of hers.

  Which, he reminded himself, wa
s another extremely good reason to stay away. What did he need with a prissy, impossible woman who lived eighty miles from D.C.?

  There was just one problem with his plan. He was starving. He didn’t feel like dressing up and heading for the Inn where he’d eaten with Frances Jackson. There were bound to be other places around, but none where he could guarantee he wouldn’t run into somebody who’d feel inclined to share an opinion about what he ought to do. He’d passed the marina, considered the bar there, but dismissed it. Bobby would no doubt be back from running his errands with Tommy and, if he was anything like a certain other Spencer, he’d feel inclined to dispense yet more advice with any booze he served.

  Other than Earlene’s, Walker hadn’t spotted any restaurants along the beachfront. Earlene’s was open only for breakfast and lunch. And once he’d driven past the town limits, the only thing between Trinity Harbor and Montross were fields and pastures. Rural living might be quiet and serene, but it was damned inconvenient when a man wanted a burger and a plate piled high with French fries. Maybe he’d drive on over to Colonial Beach. There were seafood restaurants over there. He could order a dozen crabs and relieve some tension by hammering them into oblivion and getting a decent meal in the process.

  As he considered that option, Walker showered and changed his clothes. He wasn’t prepared for the soft little knock on his door. Nor was he prepared to find his nephew standing in the hallway, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  “Hi,” Tommy said, his expression brightening when he saw Walker.

  “What are you doing here?” Walker said, unable to hide the hint of exasperation in his voice. When Tommy’s face fell, he felt like a jerk. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I know. Daisy told me not to come, but I had to.”

  So Daisy knew he was here. Terrific. Now she’d have something else to hold over Walker’s head. “Why did you have to come?”

  “Because of the boat. Bobby and me got all sorts of neat stuff, but he had to go back to work and Gary can’t come over tonight and I don’t know what to do with it.” He regarded Walker seriously. “I was thinking maybe you could show me after dinner. I mean, you might not have time tomorrow, if you’re leaving, right? Daisy said you might go back a day early.”

  Big blue eyes, just like Beth’s, stared up at him hopefully. Walker held back a sigh. Guilt, an emotion with which he was becoming all too familiar this weekend, reared its ugly head once again.

  “Come on in,” he said finally. “Let me shave and I’ll come with you.”

  “You don’t have to shave,” Tommy said, following him inside. “Daisy won’t care.”

  “A word to the wise, kiddo—women always mind stuff like that. They hate having anyone coming to the dinner table looking disreputable.”

  Tommy looked unconvinced. “You think so? I know she makes me wash my face and hands, but she never says much if my clothes are all dirty from playing.”

  “Trust me.”

  “Then I’m glad I’m not a grown-up,” Tommy said fervently. He watched Walker in the bathroom mirror as he scraped the razor over his cheek. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  Walker realized then that Tommy had probably never even seen a man shave before. “No, not if you’re careful.”

  “But the razor’s sharp, right?”

  “Very sharp.”

  “And Mama said the nicks sting like the dickens.”

  Walker grinned. He’d heard Beth say exactly those words when she’d cut her legs shaving them for the first time. “That’s why you try really hard not to nick yourself.”

  “Well, I’m never gonna shave,” Tommy vowed. “I’m gonna let my beard grown down to here.” He gestured to his knees.

  “Then you’ll probably never have a girlfriend,” Walker suggested.

  “Who cares? I don’t like girls anyway.”

  “That’ll change.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Trust me,” Walker said for the second time. This time, as the words left his mouth, he realized that he wasn’t just saying them. He really wanted this boy to trust him. He wanted to do things right with his sister’s child, as he hadn’t been able to do with her, as he hadn’t been able to with his own kids.

  Daisy’s nagging words about the way he’d let his boys slip from his life without a fight came back to haunt him. Was that what he’d done? Had he just taken the easy way out when he’d let Laurie have full custody and settled for an occasional visit with the boys as his due? Probably, he admitted reluctantly. It had been easier than fighting, easier than trying to come up with an alternative.

  It wasn’t going to be that easy to figure out what to do about Tommy, though. Tommy didn’t have a mother to take responsibility for him. There was Daisy, of course, but did Walker have the right to foist his obligation off on her, no matter how willing she might be?

  Or did doing the right thing mean taking Tommy with him to D.C.? What kind of life could a bachelor cop give to a ten-year-old boy in a city with every sort of peril? Could he make all of the adjustments entailed, logistically or emotionally? And how could he possibly decide any of that by tomorrow or even Sunday, if he decided to stick around that long? He was already dreading the moment when he had to face all those expectant faces—Daisy’s, Frances Jackson’s, Anna-Louise’s, maybe even Tommy’s—and give them his answer.

  Right now, in fact, he wasn’t even sure exactly how he was going to get through the next couple of hours with temptation staring him straight in the face.

  Daisy had no illusions. Walker wasn’t sitting at her dining room table because he wanted to be there. In fact, he looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else on earth. Clearly his arrival was Tommy’s doing. The fact that he’d come at his nephew’s behest was heartening. At least, she thought it was.

  The sorry truth was that she had no idea what was right or wrong in this situation anymore. And she was pathetically grateful that Walker was there. As impossible as he was, she felt more alive around him. Of course, some of that was the urge she had to throttle him for trying to make himself out to be such a hard-hearted jerk when it was increasingly plain to her that he was anything but that.

  She was relieved, though, when he and Tommy bolted the instant the meal was finished. Walker made a dutiful offer to help with the dishes, but she waved him outside. His thorough once-over on his way out suggested he knew precisely why she didn’t want to be left alone with him.

  That was another thing that threw her about the man. Despite his obvious anger earlier, despite the fact that it hadn’t seemed to fade, he still couldn’t seem to keep himself from flirting with her. He did it outrageously, too, with those deliberately lingering looks, an occasional wink, even a casual caress as he passed by on his way outside. All of it left her feeling completely off-kilter and out of her depth. She liked the sensation, probably a little too much.

  With the dishes washed and put away, she stood in the doorway for the second time that day and watched as Walker bent over, patiently showing Tommy how to use the plane on the wood, smoothing patches that had been misshapen by time and weather.

  “You could come out and help,” Walker said without looking up.

  Daisy hadn’t even realized he was aware of her. “I don’t know what I could do,” she said, deliberately making herself sound like the helpless female he most likely thought her to be. The truth was, she was anything but that. Catching him off-guard promised to liven up the evening.

  “You could sweep up all this gunk,” Tommy suggested, falling neatly into her trap.

  Walker chuckled. “Uh-oh, you’ve put your foot in it now.”

  Tommy stared at him in confusion. “How come?”

  Daisy came over and tugged on his cowlick. “Because you automatically assumed that I was only suited for sweeping up your mess.”

  “But you sweep all the time,” Tommy protested, then shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  “Sweeping is sometimes thought to be women�
��s work,” Walker explained. “By suggesting that’s all she could do, you offended her and implied she wasn’t capable of doing the guy stuff we’re doing.”

  “But she’s the one who said she didn’t know anything about fixing a boat,” Tommy grumbled. “I figured sweeping was something she knew about.”

  Walker sighed dramatically. “I know. I know. Trying to understand women is a full-time job. You’ll get the hang of it one of these days.”

  “Who’s going to teach him?” Daisy asked. “You or me?”

  “That’s a lesson best passed on man to man,” Walker said.

  “Oh, really?” She bumped her hip into his. “Move over. Hand me that plane.”

  Walker looked startled, but he shifted out of her way. “By all means,” he said, handing over the tool.

  “Now watch and learn,” Daisy said, and went to work.

  Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but Walker wisely silenced him. When she’d finished the section of the boat they’d been working on in half the time it had been taking them, she dusted the wood shavings off her clothes and stood up.

  “Not bad,” Walker said.

  “Not bad?” she repeated indignantly. “It’s perfect. Who do you think made all those cabinets in my kitchen?”

  “You?” Both Walker and Tommy sounded stunned.

  “You got it, my male friends. I made them.”

  “But you said—” Tommy began, only to be cut off by Walker, his expression amused.

  “She hustled us,” Walker said. “I’m surprised she didn’t try to get us to put money on it.”

  “This time was just fair warning,” she said, her gaze locked with his. “Never underestimate me.”

  “Not a chance,” he said softly. “Not a chance.”

  Daisy was still gloating over her victory two days later, but she had to concede that it hadn’t gotten them any closer to reaching a decision about Tommy’s future. When she found Frances waiting on her doorstep right after church on Sunday, she sighed.

  “What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad to see me?” the social worker asked with a grin.

  “Of course she is,” Anna-Louise said, coming up the walk right behind Daisy. “Coffee ready?”