by Nan Rossiter
“Mama, can we go to the playground?” Rudy asked.
Cora looked up distractedly and then glanced out the window. “It’s getting dark. I think you should stay in. Besides, don’t you have homework?”
“Mama, it’s Friday.”
Cora sighed. “Half an hour, and Harper, no running!”
Rudy pulled Harper out the door before Cora could change her mind and she went back to staring out the window, her mind running wild with thoughts of her oldest son in every worrisome scenario a mother’s mind could imagine. She turned on her phone and stared at the unanswered text, willing him to reply, but there was still nothing.
“Oh, Frank, where are you?”
33
“YOU’RE SUCH AN OVERACHIEVER,” BEN TEASED AS KEEPER DISLODGED three soggy tennis balls from his mouth and nosed them in the direction of Ben’s feet. He bounced back a few steps, tail wagging, and as soon as Ben reached for them, he tore off, completely uninhibited by his handicap.
“He’s too funny,” Macey said, sitting on the porch steps, cradling a cup of tea. She and Ben had learned early on that their new charge had an unabashed penchant for tennis balls. He was never without one, and he wasn’t content with just one. He would press as many as he could, one by one, into his mouth. His record was five. “Can you imagine how sad he must’ve been when he was cooped up in a kennel with no tennis balls?”
“I’m sure they played with him,” Ben said, tossing the balls again.
“I doubt it.”
“I bet they did.”
“Why do you always say the opposite of me?”
“Because it’s fun,” Ben teased, grinning. “By the way, is that what you’re wearing?”
Macey looked down at her sweatpants and fleece. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“No. You go right ahead.”
She smiled. “I’m actually gonna take a quick shower.”
“Well, you better hurry up—it’s getting late.”
“Are you showering, too?”
“Not if you take too long.”
Macey stood up reluctantly. It was a beautiful October afternoon, and she was enjoying the golden sunshine and bright blue sky, and watching them play. “I’ll be quick.”
Ben threw the tennis balls a few more times and then called, “That’s it, buddy. Let’s head in and get a treat.”
Hearing the word treat, Keeper rounded up his tennis balls and hopped up the steps. “Good pup,” Ben said, tousling his ears.
He gave him the promised treat and then grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and headed up the stairs.
“Mace, have you seen my blue shirt?”
“Which one?” she called from the shower. “You have at least five.”
“My oxford.”
“I think it’s still in the wash,” she called, rinsing the suds from her hair.
Ben stepped into the bathroom. “I thought you did laundry.”
“I did, but I forgot to throw the last load in the dryer.”
Ben peered around the shower curtain. “Hmm . . . I bet you wouldn’t’ve forgotten if there was something of yours in there.”
Macey rolled her eyes and then saw the beer in his hand. “Hey, are you sharing?”
“That depends . . . are you?”
She rolled her eyes again, but when she reached for it, he pulled it back. “Oh, no . . . if you’re not sharing, I’m not sharing.”
“There’s no time for sharing.”
“Have it your way,” he said with a shrug.
“Just a sip.”
He handed the bottle to her and watched as she took a sip, but when she seductively licked the lip of the bottle, he raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t be a tease,” he warned, “or you’ll get more than you bargained for.”
As if daring him, she playfully took another sip, and Ben shook his head.
“Your mom is going to be mad when we’re late.”
She laughed and started to hand it back to him, but he was pulling his shirt over his head. She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, no! We do not have time, mister. We’re going to be late, and you know how unhappy that makes her.”
“Your mom would never be unhappy with me. She loves me,” Ben said, dropping his jeans and boxers to the floor in one fell swoop.
“We really don’t have time for this,” she said.
“I know,” he said, gently brushing drops of water away from her face and softly kissing her. “But it’s your fault.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“It is, and I’ll have to tell your mom it was all because her daughter was misbehaving.”
“And how was that?” she murmured, pressing against him.
He chuckled. “Just like that,” he said, kissing her again. “Mmm, you taste good.”
“I’m sure I taste like beer,” she murmured, melting into his kiss.
“Mm-hmm . . . my favorite flavor.” He slid his hands down the curve of her hips and she leaned against the shower wall and watched his lowered head kissing her breasts, his blond hair and eyelashes sparkling with beads of water. Then she closed her eyes, and as the warm water cascaded over their shoulders, she felt him slowly easing himself deep inside her.
“Want me to stop?” he teased softly. “Because I can.”
“No, you can’t,” she murmured, kissing him. And just like that, he stopped his slow rhythmic movement, and she opened her eyes and laughed.
“You better hurry up or you’re going to be out of luck,” she teased, starting to move, but he held her hips firmly in place and slowly shook his head before ever so slowly starting to move again, lifting her off the tub floor as she wrapped her legs around his thighs and closed her eyes.
When he finally set her down, she was smiling. “Well, now we really need to get going!”
“I know,” he teased, reaching for his shampoo. “You’ve made us very late!”
She shook her head as she climbed out, dripping with water, quickly dried off, and threw on her clothes.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, THEY WERE PARKING BEHIND GAGE’S TRUCK IN front of the New England farmhouse-style home Macey’s parents had built when the downturn in the economy in the early nineties had forced them to move from Maine to Georgia. “You can take the boy out of New England,” Hal had said, “but you can’t take New England out of the boy!” In fact, he had been so reluctant to uproot his family and leave his parents that he’d even considered taking over their farm. But then a job offer from Gulfstream Aerospace had come in that was so lucrative, it would’ve been foolish to turn it down.
“Well, well, look who’s finally here,” Ruth Lindstrom teased affectionately as they came into the kitchen. She kissed the top of Keeper’s head. “Hello, there, sweetie pie, I’m so glad you came, too,” she whispered into his fur, making his whole hind end wiggle. Then she gave her daughter and son-in-law hugs.
“It’s Macey’s fault,” Ben said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“It’s your fault,” Macey countered, setting the dessert she’d made on the counter.
“You’re here,” Ruth said. “That’s all that matters . . . and your apple crisp looks like a picture!”
“Thanks, Mom,” Macey said. “It’s your recipe. Hopefully I did it right this time.”
Ruth smiled. “I don’t know how you could do it wrong—it’s so easy.”
“You can do it wrong by using baking soda instead of baking powder—which makes the crisp lumpy.”
“And there’s nothing worse than lumpy crisp,” Ben teased, grinning.
Ruth laughed. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
Keeper hurried into the living room, happily greeted Gage and Maeve, and then rested his head on Hal Lindstrom’s lap.
“Hey there, big fella,” Hal said jovially, stroking Keeper’s soft brow—he was an old softy when it came to dogs, especially golden retrievers, and Keeper seemed to know it. “I can’t believe how much you remind me of Tucker,” he said wistfully, stil
l missing the golden they’d had to put down several months earlier. “That old pup never left my side.”
He kissed the top of Keeper’s head, and then pulled himself out of his recliner. “Hey, there, Mr. Samuelson,” he said, shaking his son-in-law’s hand. Then he turned to Macey and gave her a hug. “Hullo, sweetie.”
He watched his girls and their significant others greet each other and then called out, “The gang’s all here, dear!”
“I know!” Ruth called back. “Come fix your plates.”
“Where’s Gus?” Macey asked, eyeing Gage as they followed Keeper—whose favorite word besides ball and treat was dinner—into the kitchen.
“He’s not quite ready for polite social settings.”
“Well, he won’t learn if you don’t bring him,” Hal said.
“You’re right,” Gage agreed. “Maybe next time.”
“I’m sorry to serve buffet-style,” Ruth said apologetically when they came in, “but I think it’s easier than passing because, by the time everyone has everything, it’s cold.”
“That’s because you make too much food,” Hal said, surveying all the dishes. “There’s enough here to feed an army!” He eyed his daughters. “You girls better plan on taking some home or I’ll be eating it for a month!”
“We will, Dad,” they assured him, knowing he wasn’t fond of having leftovers more than once.
Macey turned to her mom. “Dad’s right, Mom. Look at all this food! Lasagna and salad would’ve been enough, but you made a turkey, stuffing, potatoes, and green beans—it’s two meals.”
Ruth waved her off. “Oh, it’s nothing—I was just thinking about the holidays, and turkeys were on sale!”
“That’s the thrifty Irish heritage in her blood. Dates back to the potato famine,” Hal teased.
Ruth shook her head and handed them plates. “Get it while it’s hot,” she commanded.
“Besides,” she added, smiling, “I’m sure these two strapping boys will be able to put a dent in it.”
Ben and Gage both nodded, anxious to dig in, but hanging back politely for the girls to go first. While Hal waited, too, he freshened up his gin and tonic, and then offered the same or beers to the boys. “You girls having white?” he asked, holding a bottle of chilled chardonnay over the glasses on the counter.
“Yes, please,” Macey said, putting a little extra salad on her plate.
Maeve nodded. “Thanks, Dad,” she said.
“Hurry up and fill your plate, dear,” his wife scolded, handing him the plate he’d put down to fix drinks. “Everyone’s food is going to get cold.”
“Man does not live by bread alone,” he said, refilling her glass with merlot and putting his arm around her. “Nor does woman,” he added with a grin, kissing the top of her silver head.
Ruth poked him in the side. “Oh, you!” she said, sounding exasperated, but the girls knew she loved their dad’s teasing.
Hal filled his plate, and when he came into the dining room, Ben and Gage were standing behind their chairs, waiting for their hostess to come in and sit down. He smiled, pleased by their awareness of the same social etiquette he’d been taught as a boy.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Ruth said, finally coming in and sitting down. She eyed her husband. “Dear, would you say grace?”
Hal reached for their hands, bowed his head, and reverently offered the blessing he’d been saying since his girls were little. Then he looked up, and with a smile, remarked, “You know what would really help with all this food?”
Ruth raised her eyebrows, wondering what profound thought her husband was going to share—she never knew what he might say. “What?” she asked worriedly.
“Grandkids!” he said, smiling. “Wouldn’t it be great to have a few ankle biters running around here to liven things up?” He looked around the table, feeling proud of his idea.
“One of these days, Dad,” Macey said, her face revealing the sadness with which she was constantly struggling. “In the meantime, we brought Keeper, and I’m sure he’d be happy to help with leftovers.”
Ruth sighed, aware of the pain her husband’s comment had caused. “We’re in no hurry for grandkids, Macey, dear. Dad and I know you and Ben have a lot going on.”
“Maybe you should consider adopting,” Hal offered unwittingly. “There are so many kids in the world who need . . .” But when he saw the daggers in his wife’s eyes—a look he’d seen many times before—he clamped his mouth shut.
Macey shook her head. “Dad, please. Not now.” She turned to Ben for support, but he was focusing on his plate and avoiding eye contact. “We’re not interested in adopting, right, Ben?” she asked, elbowing him—which made it impossible for him to not engage.
He looked up. “Yeah, I don’t think we’re ready for that.” He squeezed Macey’s hand, confident that he’d said the right thing.
Ruth sighed, and, in spite of the look she’d just given her husband, turned to Maeve for her own support. “Maeve, don’t you think they should consider it?”
“I do,” Maeve said, “but it’s up to them. Adoption is a big commitment.”
“Thank you,” Macey said, feeling vindicated.
“It is a big commitment,” Ruth agreed, “but there are so many children who need good homes, and you and Ben would make such wonderful parents.” She took a sip of her wine. “You know Cora Grant? From church? She works so hard trying to find homes for . . .”
“I know Cora, Mom, and I know she works hard—I know all this . . .” She looked at Ben, hoping he would chime in again—after all, he had known her parents since they were kids. He had spent so much time in their house, he’d practically been a third child. And he was her husband. Didn’t he have something more he could add in their defense? But when his glistening eyes met hers, she realized he wasn’t saying anything because his emotions were getting the best of him.
“Can we please just talk about something else?” Macey asked.
“Of course, dear,” Ruth said.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Hal said apologetically. “I meant it to be funny, but after everything you two have been through, it was thoughtless. As much as we joke about it, your mom is right—we are in no hurry to have grandkids. When the time is right, it’ll happen . . . or not—I’m sure God knows what’s best, and regardless, we have this wonderful granddog.” He looked down at Keeper lying at his feet. “And that’s more than enough.”
He smiled, took a sip of his drink, and with his blue eyes sparkling mischievously, turned to Maeve and Gage. “Guess this means we’ll just have to talk about the wedding. . . .”
“Dad!” Maeve said, looking horrified.
“I’m just kidding!” he said, chuckling and squeezing his wife’s hand. “What would these kids do without us to embarrass them? How did we end up with such serious children?”
Ruth rolled her eyes, and in an effort to change the subject, asked, “Will we see you all in church Sunday?”
Macey nodded, but Maeve shook her head. “I have to work.”
34
“WHERE IN HEAVEN’S NAME HAVE YOU BEEN?” CORA ASKED WHEN FRANK finally came through the door. She was relieved he was home, but she was so angry she didn’t know whether to hug or ground him on the spot.
“I’m sorry, Mama. My friend James said he saw you picking up Rudy and Joe, so I figured you didn’t need me, and then he asked if I wanted to shoot some hoops. I was in such a hurry to go with him, I left my phone in my locker, and when I went back to get it, the school was locked.”
“It’s ten o’clock, Frank. Surely you haven’t been playing basketball all this time.”
“Is it that late?” he asked sheepishly. “I didn’t know what time it was because I didn’t have my phone, and then we went to Mickey D’s and hung out.”
“And no one there had a phone you could borrow to call your mother who was worried sick about you, or find out the time? We waited and waited for you to have dinner.” As she said this, she held up a pl
ate that was covered with aluminum foil.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I lost track of time, and I didn’t want to ask anyone to borrow their phone.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Because I felt stupid.”
“I don’t know what there is to feel stupid about,” Cora said.
“Because I stupidly left it in my locker.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Cora said angrily, “and you shouldn’t care what they think. You have to be responsible!”
“But I do care, Mama. They want me to try out for the team, and I don’t want to do anything dumb to change that.”
“Well, not calling your mother to tell her where you are is dumb, and those boys—if they’re decent young men—would know it.”
“Why’d you pick up Rudy and Joe anyway?” Frank asked, trying to change the subject.
“Harper got herself suspended.”
“What’d she do now?” he asked, thankful he wasn’t the focus of the conversation anymore.
“She got into a tussle with another girl.”
Frank shook his head. “When’s she ever gonna learn?”
“Probably the same time you do,” Cora said, eyeing him so he knew he wasn’t off the hook.
Frank nodded. “Well, I’m tired so I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Good night,” Cora replied curtly, still standing stubbornly on her convictions.
“I love you,” Frank said.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t make me worry.”
“Mama, I said I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
Cora softened. “You can promise me you won’t let it happen again.”
“I promise,” Frank said solemnly.
“And you can give your poor ole mother a hug.”
Frank smiled, and towering over her stout five-foot-two frame, gave her a long hug.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Frank.”