Jonathan lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t blame yourself either. Crimes of passion are the most defensible. We all have our moments.”
She smiled her gratitude and got in the car. Jonathan was a very nice man; her sister was lucky. Donnie is a nice man, too. And just as handsome as Jonathan.
She pushed the thought from her mind. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked Zach.
He didn’t speak until they turned onto Stockton Hill Road. Then, keeping his face toward the window, he asked, “Why isn’t her last name Harrison?”
Kristin turned onto the street leading to an enclave of homes sitting on five- and ten-acre parcels. “Your grandmother was a widow when she married Mr. Hughes. He’s dead now, too. Jenny said he had a heart attack a few years ago. Tyler’s father, Arthur Harrison, was the son of the local banker. The Harrisons were very well off by Gold Creek standards. They had the first swimming pool in town.
“But Ty’s father made some bad investments and wound up losing the bank—and a lot of other people’s money. He…uh, died when Ty was about your age. Maybe a little older.”
Kristin felt ashamed that the details of Tyler’s father’s suicide were fuzzy. She’d probably been focused on making the cheerleading squad or worrying about whether or not Donnie Grimaldo liked her.
“That sucks,” Zach said, looking out the window as the car slowed to maneuver around a curve.
“I think it was very hard on your father. I didn’t know him well, but I seem to recall he had a lot of friends before that happened. Then he just sort of disappeared into the background. I remember him wearing black all the time. And he stopped participating in school functions. He worked at the grocery store part-time and bought himself a Yamaha motorcycle when he turned sixteen.”
Catching a glimmer of interest in her son’s eye, she scolded, “Don’t even think about it. No way, José.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What happened then?”
“Gloria’s brother owned the newspaper, and she went to work for him. That guy was a real weirdo. I don’t think anybody liked him, and the paper was a joke. But it was the only game in town so people bought it. She started writing a gossip column called ‘Glory’s World,’ and people read it to find out what everybody else was doing.”
“Did she write about what happened with you and my dad?”
“Here we are,” she said, ducking the question.
Zach looked at her. “If you and my dad had gotten married, would you be divorced by now?”
Kris swallowed. “Probably. We barely knew each other, sweetheart. We were drawn together for reasons that seemed important at the time.” She looked at him and smiled. “But I don’t know what we’d still have in common, except you.”
He didn’t say anything. She glanced out the corner of her eye and saw him staring straight ahead. A shiver of premonition passed through her.
She followed his gaze. There, beside Gloria, stood a tall, dark-haired man that could only be Tyler Harrison.
ZACH GRABBED the steering wheel when his mother’s hands fell limp at her sides. She’d gone white when she spotted the man standing on the porch. So Zach didn’t have to work too hard to figure out who he was.
My dad.
Tall, thin, dark hair. He couldn’t see the resemblance his aunts had made such a big deal about. Maybe the guy’s eyes were like his. And the nose.
So what? He didn’t look rich. Or powerful. In fact, he looked kinda sickly.
“Well, let’s go meet your father,” his mother said, regaining control. She parked the car then reached across the seat to squeeze Zach’s hand.
He knew he had to move, but he was scared. Real scared. What if the guy didn’t like him?
When his mother first told Zach the news that his father was alive and didn’t know he had a son, he’d been furious with her. But now Zach was going to protect her, even if he was still mad at her. Especially for dragging him to Gold Creek. She might have screwed things up for them, but she was still his mom.
When she opened her car door, Zach opened his. They approached the house—a two-story box with white columns like some mansion from an old movie. Everything in the garden looked neat and tidy.
Sarge would hate it here, Zach thought, looking around.
“Kristin,” the man said. His voice was strong. Like he was used to bossing people around.
“Hello, Tyler. This is a surprise, but I’m glad you’re here. It’s time you met Zach.”
His mother’s fingers dug into his arm, but Zach didn’t flinch. He lifted his gaze and immediately became engaged in some kind of staring contest with the man who was his father.
“Actually, Kristin,” the man replied, never breaking eye contact with Zach, “the time for that was eleven years ago.”
Zach didn’t like the man’s attitude. He bristled defensively.
His mother jostled his arm, so he’d look at her. “Zachie, I love you so much, but you don’t have to fight my battles,” she said softly.
Then she looked at the man on the porch. “Is this how you want it, Tyler? A battle? Isn’t it possible we both made mistakes?” she asked. “Can’t we let the past go and move on?”
The man whispered something to his mother, who looked at Zach briefly, then disappeared inside. Zach felt his mother brace her shoulders as Tyler walked toward them.
“No, Kristin, we aren’t going to let bygones be bygones. We’re going to court. My lawyer has advised me to sue for full custody. According to him, there’s not a court in this land that won’t take one look at the evidence and declare you an unfit mother.”
Zach jumped forward, his arm out like they taught him in football. “You’re wrong. She’s a good mother.”
To Zach’s surprise, Kristin slipped past him and faced Zach’s father. “You’re both right. I am a good mother. I’ve always tried my best, and Zach knows how much I love him—even though the past few months have been tough.
“But you’re right, too, Tyler. I was selfish. And scared that you’d try to take him away from me.”
Tyler seemed surprised by her candor, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously and he asked, “Does that mean you’re abdicating your parental rights? You’re giving him to me?”
The thought made Zach shiver. He wished now that he’d brought Sarge along. What if this guy took him away? What if—
“No, Tyler, I’m not giving up anything. I’m offering to share our son with you. Late, yes? But it’s not too late. He’s the most incredible child you’ll ever know. And if you fight me for him, you might win in court, but you’ll lose a whole lot more.”
Zach could tell her words affected his father. Zach was so proud of her he almost smiled, but when she turned to look at him, he saw her tears, and it made him sad.
She hugged him so hard his ribs hurt, then she stepped away. She made a sniffling sound as she dug in her purse for something. A second later she passed him her cell phone. “Do what you have to do, Tyler. I brought Zach here this afternoon to meet your mother. He can call me at the bordello when he’s ready to come home.”
She took Zach’s chin between her thumb and fingers and made him look into her eyes. The tears were there, but she looked determined, too. She wanted to do the right thing. She was brave. He could be brave, too. For her sake.
DONNIE PROPPED one booted foot on the bottom rung of the wire fence and rested his elbows on the painted one-inch pipe that made up the horizontal railing. About twenty feet beyond, in the middle of the arena a cowboy worked a spirited young gelding, putting the animal through its paces.
The late-afternoon sun soaked into Donnie’s shoulders, melting some of his tension. When he couldn’t find Kristin, he’d come to the Rocking M. No Kris, but maybe Sam would have an answer for Donnie’s dilemma.
“I’m worried about you, my friend,” Sam said. “Something’s troubling you. How can I help?”
“How much beer you got?” Donnie joked. They both knew Donnie had given up drinking year
s ago. A quick temper was only aggravated by alcohol, and Donnie had learned a long time ago that he wasn’t a happy drunk.
Sam’s chuckle was just the therapy Donnie needed. “How ’bout a fresh-squeezed lemonade? Greta just made a batch.”
Once Sam had disappeared into the two-story cedar log home opposite the arena, Donnie weighed the benefit of spilling his guts to his friend. He didn’t doubt Sam’s discretion, but Donnie was hesitant to mention the proposal until he’d talked to Kristin.
If the whole thing blew up in his face, the fewer people who knew about it the better.
The twenty-something cowboy in the arena—apparently sensing an audience—looked over his shoulder. He acknowledged Donnie’s presence with a cocky grin and tip of the hat. Donnie felt a small jolt of envy. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to work at a job you loved.
“Donnie,” a woman’s voice called.
He turned to greet Jenny O’Neal. It still amazed him how different the Sullivan triplets were from each other in looks. Jenny was the tallest and carried herself with willowy grace. Her long hair fluttered in the wind. Dressed in denim jeans, a neatly pressed blouse and sneakers, she held hands with two toddlers—one in boots, diapers and a T-shirt asking, What’s a Guy Gotta Do To Get a Horse Around Here?; the other in patent-leather shoes and a ruffled pinafore.
Donnie gave Jenny a peck on the cheek before squatting to greet the children. “Hi, guys, how are you today?”
A rush of one-year-old babble washed over him, making him smile. Lara offered him the rag doll she carried, then snatched it back before burying her face against her mother’s leg. Tucker dropped to the ground butt first.
“How’s it going?” Jenny kept her eyes on her son. “Did Maureen get off?”
“Yes. Early. Sandy dropped her at the airport.”
Jenny’s look of mock horror made him laugh.
“So, what are you doing out here? Does it have to do with my sister?”
Was she a mind reader?
“Andi said Kristin gave you a massage after work yesterday.”
Gold Creek—where gossip flies at the speed of sound.
Donnie shifted slightly. “No. We just talked.” His response sounded innocent enough to his ears, but Jenny suddenly blinked, eyes wide. “Oh my God. You and Kris? Again?”
He tried to protest, but a movement near the ground caught her attention, and she suddenly swooped down and snatched up her son. “Tucker, what did you just put in your mouth? Show Mommy. Open up, sweetheart.”
The little boy’s mouth was ringed with dirt. He opened wide and a beetle scrambled off his tongue and dropped to the ground. Jenny let out a horrified squeal. “Water,” she shouted.
“Will lemonade do?” an amused voice said from behind them.
Jenny swiped a plastic tumbler from the tray her husband carried. “Bugs. Yech. We don’t eat bugs, Tucker. You know that.” The child resisted her efforts to clean his mouth and tongue, finally wailing in distress.
Donnie took a slug of the tart drink Sam offered then returned the glass to the tray, which Sam had set on the tailgate of a nearby truck. “Let Uncle Donnie hold him.”
The child was heavier than he looked and twice as squirmy, but he calmed down after Donnie set him on his shoulders. Tucker’s gleeful cry made his sister look up and demand similar treatment.
“Now see what you’ve started,” Sam said, picking up his daughter.
Although most people believed Sam had adopted the twins and married Josh’s widow to keep the family intact, Josh had told Donnie the truth. Sam was the twin’s biological father. He’d donated sperm when Josh discovered he was infertile. Donnie had kept the information to himself. These four were a family, period. That was all the world needed to know.
In a way, that was how he viewed his proposal to Kristin. What they did was their business, right? But he knew it wasn’t that simple.
A birdlike twitter made Jenny reach for the cell phone sticking out of her hip pocket. “I brought this along in case Ida Jane needed me. I hope everything’s okay,” she said before pushing the talk button.
“Hello?”
She nodded and smiled, letting her husband know it wasn’t anything serious. “Hi, Kris. What’s new?”
Donnie automatically took a step closer to eavesdrop on Jenny’s conversation.
“Right now? Let me ask.” She covered the phone and looked at her husband. “Kris is calling a family meeting. She says it’s important. Can you come with me?”
Sam looked at Donnie, who said, “Don’t worry about me.”
“Tell her we’ll be right there. Did she say what it’s about?” Sam asked.
Jenny shook her head. “No, but I’m thinking Tyler. Do you want details?”
Yes.
“No. We’ll find out soon enough.”
Jenny conveyed Sam’s words then listened for a minute. Her eyebrow shot up, and she looked at Donnie. “Actually, he’s right here.” Both friends eyed him intently. “No, I’m not kidding. I’m looking at him as I speak. He has Tucker on his shoulders.”
Donnie looked up and Tucker grabbed his nose. One finger hooked a nostril, making Donnie yelp.
“Okay, I’ll tell him. Gotta go before the poor man loses his nose. See you soon.”
Donnie bent over so Tucker’s mother could grab him. “Tell me what?” He straightened with care, heeding Kristin’s advice to avoid back strain.
“To come with us. She wants you there, too.” She stared hard at him. “Donnie, you’re blushing. What’s all this about?”
Jenny obviously expected an explanation. He lifted his shoulders and said, “Well, it might have something to do with the fact that I asked her to marry me.”
“You what?” Sam sputtered, choking on his lemonade.
“You’re kidding,” Jenny exclaimed. A second later she was hugging him—squishing Tucker between them. “It’s about time.”
“THANK HEAVENS for cell phones,” Kristin told Ida Jane after hanging up on Jonathan.
“Why are they all coming again, dear?” Ida Jane asked, watching as Kris set out plates and silverware. “Is it Thanksgiving already?”
Kristin had picked up a bucket of take-out chicken and a couple of side dishes, because feeding people helped her feel in control of a situation. Her cousins always knew when Kris had had a bad day because they’d come home to a complete meal.
“Nope. Just a late-afternoon picnic. Without the ants and meat bees.”
Ida fussed with the arrangement of marigolds Kris had plucked from the flower bed. “I remember a picnic at Lake Tullock, and the bees were so bad one of you girls got bitten on the tongue. Andi, I think. I took a couple of wieners from the package and set them out on a rock a few feet away so the bees would leave us alone. Remember that?”
“Vaguely. Was that the time we water-skied with some friend of yours? I can picture his boat, but I can’t remember his name.”
“Horace Shelton,” Ida said with confidence. At times her distant memory was so clear, it shocked her nieces. “He was sweet on me for the longest time.”
Kristin smiled. She slowed her frantic pace and looked at her great-aunt. “How come you didn’t marry him, Auntie? He was a nice man as I recall. Was it because of us?”
“In a way,” Ida Jane said. “He was a nice man, just not the right man.” Kristin had heard the story of Ida Jane’s true love—a man who’d fallen in love with her sister, Suzy, then been killed in the war.
Kristin took Ida’s thin, withered hand. “But it couldn’t have been easy raising us alone. If you’d married Horace…”
Ida squeezed Kristin’s hand. “He was a friend, dear. I didn’t love him. Love is the only reason to get married.”
Her aunt’s words—innocent as they were—nearly made Kris groan aloud. What could she possibly have been thinking when she’d agreed to marry Donnie?
Ida looked around. “Who’s coming, again?”
Kristin kissed her aunt’s forehead then repeate
d the list. Andi was less patient with Ida’s memory problems, but Kristin had been through this effect of aging with her uncle’s mother so she knew what to expect.
A few minutes later, the first of Kristin’s guests arrived—Jonathan.
“Hi,” he said, setting his briefcase on a stool in the adjoining mudroom. “Where’s Andi?”
“Upstairs lying down. She had a rough day. Computer problems. I told her she could skip this if she wanted, but she said she’d be here no matter what.”
Jonathan snatched a bun from the basket and headed toward the door. “I’ll check on her, then be right back. For some reason, I feel like I’m to blame. If I hadn’t lent you—”
Kristin grinned ruefully. “Letting me use your cell phone doesn’t obligate you, Jon. I would have gone to Gloria’s anyway.”
“Gloria?” Ida Jane asked. “Is she coming? I can’t stand that woman. She’s had it in for this family ever since Art Harrison made eyes at Suzy one Christmas.”
Kristin almost dropped the bowl of coleslaw she’d been carrying to the table. “I beg your pardon? Gloria’s hubby had the hots for Grandma Suzy?”
Ida waved away the suggestion. “My sister attracted men like the color red draws hummingbirds. Art and Suzy were socializing one Christmas Eve. Nothing happened, but Gloria got her knickers in a knot.”
Kristin shook her head. Gold Creek was a labyrinth of old intrigues and secret agendas. She lowered the flame beneath the kettle of beans then returned to sit down with Ida Jane. “Ida, can you remember what happened to Mr. Harrison? His suicide?”
“He invested big in a housing development near the lake—and used other people’s money to do it. The lots didn’t sell, and the bank investigators were coming for him. He probably would have gone to jail. The boy found him, I believe.”
Kristin shuddered. There was so much she didn’t know about her son’s father, and now they were poised for battle. She’d gone to his mother’s with an olive branch only to have it snapped in two by a man who looked every bit as powerful and unforgiving as she’d feared he might be.
The Comeback Girl Page 8
