Folding his arms over his chest, he asked, “Do I know him?” It was all Drew managed to say.
“No.” Jacquie flicked her lighter to life, lit the cigarette and blew a stream of smoke out the crack in the window. “I don’t even know him.” Keeping her posture straight, she looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Drew.”
The expression on her face was one of true regret, a tired gaze he almost didn’t recognize on her. She was usually so put together, so all-knowing.
He wanted to feel anger. Pissed off. Resentment. Something. But the emotions just wouldn’t come.
“How come you’re telling me? I doubt I would have found out unless you did it in public.”
“Give me more credit than that.” She took another hit on the cigarette, her face silhouetted by light from the window.
Neither one of them said anything for a long while.
The details of what had transpired with her and some other guy were inconsequential to him. That truth made him snort and think this really sucked. He’d come over prepared to break up with her, and she was breaking things off with him, and rather than feeling like shit about what she’d said, he felt relieved. How screwed up was that?
“We can’t pretend anymore,” Jacquie said, turning toward him. “You and I both know this has been a long time coming.”
“You’re right. Things between us haven’t been going too good lately,” he said, taking a seat at one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
His words put her on the defensive, as if suddenly the failure of their relationship fell solely on him and he was the only one to blame. “You think I didn’t notice?” she all but bristled.
“Hey,” he retorted, finally feeling the sting of her betrayal. The resulting heat of anger shocked him. She could say whatever she wanted about him, but he’d never once been unfaithful to her. And he’d had a lot of opportunities over the years. “You sleeping with another guy is not my fault, babe.”
“If you’d showed up, none of this would have happened.”
“I had a kid in the hospital!”
“He has a mother and you aren’t the father,” she sniped, her face contorting.
Her tone made his muscles tighten, and her high-and-mighty demeanor irritated him—enough so that when his cell phone rang, he answered for the distraction and just to annoy Jacquie while refocusing his attention. “Yeah?” he growled. “Tolman here.”
Dead silence.
“Hello?”
Whoever was there clicked off and ended the call. Drew didn’t have the desire to check the caller ID log.
Collecting his thoughts, he was quiet a long moment. This was an ugly way to end things, not the way he had envisioned. He had to own up to his part. He’d been distancing himself from her lately, doing his own thing when he knew she wanted to spend time with him. He found lots to occupy himself, wasn’t available to her when she called. She’d come to Opal’s—a sure way to run into him.
He knew this was coming, and now that he had a moment for a reality check, an unexpected sadness came over him. Three years was a long time to spend with someone.
He knit his fingers together, looked at his clean fingernails. “Jacquie, I’m sorry.”
And that’s when she began to cry.
And that’s when he felt slugged in the gut. But that’s when he also knew he couldn’t go backward. This was the old pattern. Her pushing, him pulling, her grabbing, him taking.
It was done.
“I’m sorry, too,” she uttered with a sigh, trying to stop the tears and get herself together. “I wish things had been different for us. I loved you, Drew…I still do.”
He couldn’t reply. He knew she wanted him to at least say he still loved her. But he didn’t.
Maybe he was a shallow asshole.
Since he said nothing, she pushed herself away from the counter and snubbed out her cigarette. “Can we remain friends?” she asked, her voice cracking.
He didn’t have to think about an answer and replied with the truth. “Sure.” A little lingering tie to her was not quite severed, and he still wanted her in his life. She knew things about him that he’d never told anyone else, and he knew she’d keep his confidences, even in a breakup. Jacquie did have integrity, and if she gave him her word, she meant it.
Her gaze locked onto his, dark skepticism filtering through the brown depths of her eyes. “Do you really want to remain friends or are you just saying that?”
“I really do, Jacquie. We had some good times.”
“Okay. I appreciate it.” Her shoulders trembled and she was having a hard time keeping herself together.
“No problem.”
She sniffed. “Is there anything else you want to say?”
He had lots to say. But none of it mattered. “No.”
“Well…all right then.”
Without another word, he got up and left the house. Jacquie didn’t come after him. He sucked in deep gulps of air, blinked in the bright rays of sunshine and tried to remember if he’d left his sunglasses in the Hummer.
He was barely out the front door when his cell rang again. Only this time he didn’t bother to answer it.
Drew Tolman didn’t feel like talking to anyone.
Journal of Mackenzie Taylor
I shouldn’t have called him.
Ten
Drew swore.
He hit Redial for the number that showed up on his missed call list, waited for someone to pick up. Lynette answered.
“Did you call me earlier today?” he asked, knowing in his gut before he asked that she hadn’t. Lynette always left him a message.
“No, Drew. I didn’t.”
He ran a hand through his hair, then rested his wrist on the steering wheel. He’d taken a drive to Burnt Mountain after leaving Jacquie’s. That had been three hours ago. Now that he had call service again, being closer to Timberline, his phone had beeped to remind him he’d missed a call. As soon as he’d checked the ID log, he was pushing Redial.
“Mackenzie called me,” Drew said, exhaling the tight breath in his chest. “Is she there?”
“Yes, Drew. She’s out back with some friends.”
“Get her for me, Lynette. She phoned.”
Lynette’s sigh was wispy. “Well, for heaven’s sake. Yes, I’ll get her. Hold on.” The receiver was plunked down and Drew waited.
A tense silence enveloped the inside of the Hummer, the big motor idling softly.
For a moment, he thought Mackenzie wouldn’t talk to him. But then a girl’s voice carried over the line. “Hello?”
“Mackenzie, it’s Drew.”
“I know. Aunt Lynette said.”
Drew’s pulse quickened into sharp beats. He hadn’t spoken to her in four months, had been waiting for the day she would call. Now that he had her attention, he found reason draining from his thought process. He had too much to say, and felt unable to round it up into something coherent.
Seventeen years was a long time for a girl not to have her real dad in her life. Drew couldn’t say the wrong things and mess up their relationship further.
A crazy mixture of hope and fear collided in his chest.
When he’d brought her to the February spring training game, she’d hardly said anything to him, so he’d taken her lead and hadn’t pushed. But now he felt like maybe she was ready to give them a chance—that maybe that was why she’d called. Only he didn’t know how to talk to her, what to say without making her retreat.
Sitting stiffly, Drew forced himself to speak slowly. “How did your graduation go, sugar?” The Southern endearment slipped out and sluiced across his tongue like honey. He instantly regretted his use of it on his daughter. He’d spoken the word casually for years. He sensed Mackenzie knew where it came from.
“Good.” The monosyllable word hovered.
“I wish I could have been there.” But he and Lynette had talked about it and decided Mackenzie wouldn’t have wanted him to come. He hadn’t wanted to ruin that
milestone for her. He’d done enough damage already.
Mackenzie needed time to get used to his acceptance of her, even though it had been two years since he’d apologized to her and to Caroline. He hadn’t gone into details as to why he’d behaved the way he had so many years ago. Once he gained her trust, he could tell her what had happened.
The scars of truth ran deep, were thick. Drew never discussed it with anyone. Only Jacquie.
The line was quiet. He could hear his daughter’s soft breathing, almost smell the way her skin was perfumed with that fruity spray she wore. He’d never once given her a hug. Never told her to her face that he loved her. She wouldn’t believe him if he did, and if he touched her, she’d bolt. Not even at Caroline’s funeral had he come close enough to make her feel threatened. He’d waited. He would bide his time.
“I called…” she said, stopping herself as if to lick her lips or to think about what she wanted to say “…to thank you for the diary.”
Relief hit Drew, warming his muscles, relaxing him. He’d guessed right. He knew Caroline wrote stuff down and he took a chance that Mackenzie would be like her mother.
“You’re welcome.”
“My old one was getting full.”
Damn him, but he needed the reassurances, no matter how nonpersonal, so he asked, “So you like the new one?”
“I do.”
But once more, a cold static carried from Florida to Idaho. The only sounds were the soft rasps of breathing.
Drew couldn’t stand it. He had a resolve of steel, but when it came to Mackenzie, he wanted nothing more than to have the chance of being her father. “Mackenzie, have you thought any more about coming to stay with me for the summer?”
He tensed. Waited. Long minutes.
“I don’t know.”
It was the first time she hadn’t flat out said hell no. Drew went on quickly. “You’d have your own room and I’d show you around town. There’s lots to do. We could go out on my boat and I have four-wheelers at my cabin. You’d like it.”
Silence. Then she murmured, “I don’t know.”
Disappointment settled heavily on his shoulders, but he wasn’t ready to give up. “Think about it, Mackenzie, and get back to me.”
“Okay. I gotta go now. My friends are here.”
“Yeah, okay, Mackenzie.” He sucked in his breath, his chest tight. “Thanks for calling.”
“Sure.”
The line disconnected, and Drew sat there a long while, parked at mile marker 9 out on Timberline Highway.
Large white clouds drifted overhead, fast enough for him to absently watch them move across the sky while he replayed the conversation in his head.
Stuffed buffalo heads hung on the rustic pine walls of Woolly Burgers, famous for their half-pound hamburgers. The smell of grilled onions filled the air, making a person’s mouth water, along with a pungent scent of hops from draft beer. White restaurant dishes clattered in the kitchen, sounding as if someone had dropped a load of them onto a metal countertop. The booths were timbered by cross-cut sections of pines painted with clear enamel to a glossy shine. Country music played from a jukebox.
A waitress came to the Carpenters’ dinner table to collect the empty cups leftover from the previous patrons, and to clear the rest of the mess before snagging her tip.
“I’m sorry,” she said, half-breathless. “We lost our busboy tonight and we’re shorthanded. Can I get you something to drink to start?”
The boys ordered soft drinks and Lucy ordered an iced tea.
It was Friday night and the place was packed. Cheerful chaos abounded from the staff, and each time one of them moved into the pass-through door, Lucy caught a glimpse of the cooks. They stood over sizzling grills, wiping their foreheads with the back of a hand as their chef hats drooped on their heads.
“So what are you boys hungry for?” Lucy asked, smiling at the two of them. They sat next to one another across the table from her, their noses buried in their menus.
She’d taken them out to dinner as a celebration for making the Little League teams they’d tried out for. It was a positive note in the aftermath of a dark discovery. She’d yet to talk to Jason about what she’d found in his uniform pocket, instead taking several days so she could act reasonably rather than emotionally.
Lucy had told herself she’d been down this road before, and she knew how it could wind its way into unforeseen turns. She also knew that there had to be an end to the tunnel, a way out.
And a plan had come to her yesterday. She hadn’t told Jason about it yet, but she was going to after their dinner. It might not be the perfect solution, but she was tackling this in a different manner this time. Rather than “take” something away from Jason as a form of punishment, she was going to “give” to him.
“I want the plain cheeseburger.” Matt closed his menu and folded his hands on top of it. His chin was mere inches from the massive tabletop. He’d yet to hit any kind of growth spurt, while Jason sat a good five inches taller.
Jason scanned the food selections, and she observed him with an ache in her heart. Right now, at this moment, he seemed so normal. Happy. A regular boy. Just like he used to be.
“I’m going to have the bacon cheeseburger with fries.”
“Mom, does mine come with fries?” Matt asked.
“I’m sure it does.”
“Can I have coleslaw instead?”
The corners of Lucy’s mouth turned upward, and she smiled fondly at her twelve-year-old. “I’m sure they can do that.”
The young waitress returned with their beverages, then got out her order pad. “Have you decided?”
The boys ordered, then Lucy made the correct modifications to Matt’s before requesting her own cheeseburger. She was starving and a burger sounded good. The waitress hurried off to post their orders in the kitchen.
“You think Coach Drew is going to show us some pitching, too?” Matt asked Jason. “You’re the lucky duck for getting on his team.”
Jason shrugged. “He probably won’t.”
Matt gave a disappointed frown, but it was quickly replaced by a toothy smile. “Hey, ’member that time we had Coach Steve for baseball camp and Bolthouse said shit so Coach said real loud, ‘Bolty, what word did you just say?’ But Bolthouse said nuttin’ back and Coach said, ‘Does your mother know you talk like that, Bolty?’ And Coach said it loud enough for Bolty’s mom to hear and she yelled at him?” Matt giggled, then looked at Lucy. “Mom, that wasn’t me saying shit for real. I was just telling a story.”
She laughed. “I got that part.”
Jason laughed, too, then playfully socked his brother on the arm. “You’re such a kid sometimes.”
“Yeah. Takes one to know one.” Matt took a sip of his soda, his large tennis shoes kicking the bench he sat on. Then he drew himself taller. “Hey, Mom. I made ten bucks walking Ada’s dogs.”
“He gave me three bucks of it,” Jason said, his expression one of gratitude.
Lucy briefly wondered what he was going to do with the money, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. This was like old times, and it felt good. Both boys were horsing around like they used to, getting along, cracking jokes.
“I’m saving up to buy lots of candy, and I’m going to see if I can find a Drew Tolman baseball card and have him autograph it for me. You think he would?” Matt asked.
Shrugging, Lucy made no comment. She didn’t want Drew as her son’s role model. Now that she knew about the man’s sordid past, she’d rethought her judgment of him—and it wasn’t favorable. It was one thing when she thought him a flirt, a man about town who could get away with anything on looks and charm. Quite another when she knew he’d used drugs and ruined a baseball career because of it.
“He would,” Jason stated. “I saw a new kid ask him to sign his glove and he did.”
“Bang-o-rang!” Matt’s face lit up. “I hope Ada’s got lots and lots of dogs for me to walk all summer long.”
Jason slouched. �
��How come Dad never sends us any money?”
Lucy refrained from rolling her eyes. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“Because he’s a jerk.”
Matthew’s lively expression fell. “Yeah…he’s a jerk.”
“I know you boys are mad at him, but you have to admit he does pay child support.” On a sour note, she added, “Most of the time.”
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