Clive righted the table and picked up the workbook and the pencils. He took the educational supplies into his bedroom and placed them back in the box.
He could no longer let pride and embarrassment keep him from reaching his full potential. He recalled Renee’s words from a while back: anything is possible if we work hard enough.
Clive needed help to get the work done, and he knew where to find it.
He found the number in his wallet that his daughter had given him a few days ago. He stared at it for a minute, still unsure. Still petrified of failure.
After dialing the number, Clive pressed zero to bypass the main menu recording.
A cheerful male voice came on the line. “Hello, San Diego Adult Learning Center. How may I help you?”
The sound of the welcoming voice eased his anxiety, and Clive loosened his grip on the phone.
“Hello, my name is Clive Stevenson. I heard you have literacy classes.”
“We sure do. Would you like to sign up?”
His gut tightened, but he forced out the words. “Yes, I’d like to sign up. I…I want to learn to read.”
Samson had returned.
He ran back and forth in front of the window as if trying to get Renee’s attention, though she was looking right at him. She and the dog had become good friends ever since he saved her from potential bodily harm by the burglars. But he hadn’t come over in a while, ever since she and Clive had the fight.
Ten days had passed since that night, but if she didn’t know better, she’d say one hundred days had passed. She missed him so much—literally ached with the need to talk to him, to understand what had happened.
She was angry, too. Angry that he hadn’t reached out or apologized or properly explained. The more she thought about the abrupt way their relationship had ended—because clearly it had ended—the angrier she became. He should have never kissed her in her home. He should have never given her hope that she could have a different kind of relationship—one filled with humor and hot sex and comfortable nights sitting on the sofa watching TV.
Renee collected a couple of dog treats she now kept on hand. When she exited the house, Samson raced over, tail wagging, and eagerly accepted the snacks. She scratched behind his ear and rubbed on his head and sides, working up the nerve to take him next door.
Across the street, Jim stood at his mailbox and waved. “Hey, Renee, I’ll have this grass cut soon. Lawn mower’s not working. Thought I could get it fixed, but the guy at the shop said there’s no saving it, so I’m going to pick up another one this weekend.”
She hadn’t even noticed the overgrown grass. “Get to it when you can.”
His mouth fell open and he stared at her. “Are you sure?” he asked slowly.
“I’m sure, Jim. Have a good one.” She grasped Samson’s collar and headed over to Clive’s.
She rang the doorbell and Margie opened the door, welcoming her with a wide grin. “Hi, Miss Joseph.”
“Hi, honey. Is your grandpa home?”
Margie nodded vigorously, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
Renee shook her head. “I’m going to stay out here. Would you call him for me, please.”
“Okay.” Leaving the door open, Margie hurried off with Samson in tow.
Renee lifted her head higher and straightened her back as she waited for Clive to come to the door.
When she saw him coming toward her through the open door, a little whimper of pain escaped her throat. No man had a right to look so good in a snug-fitting black T-shirt and a pair of jeans that hinted at his powerful thighs.
“Hi, Renee,” he said quietly. He stepped out and closed the door. Now that he was closer, she saw bags under his eyes, and his normally vibrant green eyes appeared dull and lifeless.
“Hello, Clive.” Clenching her fingers at her sides, she fought the urge to reach for him.
He studied her with something akin to concern in his eyes, which irritated her.
“There’s no need to be worried about me. I was fine before you came into my life, and I’m fine now.”
“I know that, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about, so don’t bother with your lame excuses. I’m a person who likes closure, and this is how I’ll get it, by telling you what I think about you. You pretend to be all macho and strong, but you can’t even speak to me after our fight. I’ve been waiting for you to say something—something meaningful. Then it dawned on me. You’re not going to, because for whatever reason, you can’t handle a woman like me. I thought you were different, but you’re not. You’re a numbskull—your words—like my ex-husbands were.
“I’m not what you want, and that’s fine. But you know what, that’s your loss. I’m a good person. I’m kind, smart, loyal, funny, and generous. And if you don’t like any of that, then too bad. I’m going to find someone who does. Goodbye. For good.”
She swung around and started toward her house.
“Renee, wait!”
He grasped her arm and she slapped away his hand.
“Do not touch me.” Her voice vibrated with anger and pain. She took off again toward the house.
“I’m sorry. Let me explain.”
“The time for explaining is over.” She opened the door and turned to face him. She didn’t want to break down in front of him, but the crushing loss of losing him was almost unbearable. “Get the hell out of my yard, and keep your damn dog in yours!”
She slammed the door in his face.
18
Despite the proud tilt to her head and the firm words, Clive heard the tremor in her voice and saw the pain in those beautiful brown eyes.
To think he’d caused that pain not only shamed him, but caused him pain, too. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was hurt Renee. Equally painful was knowing she thought he didn’t appreciate the type of woman she was, when in fact he did. Hell, he didn’t deserve her.
He flattened his palm on the door. “Renee, hear me out. Please.”
The only response was silence.
“Renee!”
Nothing.
He knocked and rang the doorbell.
Still nothing.
Knowing Renee, she’d leave him out there all night without a second thought, but she couldn’t stay inside forever.
Clive went back to the house. He’d catch her the next time she left.
The opportunity arrived less than two hours later while he was at the mailbox getting the mail. Her garage door slowly lifted, and he seized the opportunity.
Clive shoved the mail back in the box and hurried over to stand in front of the car. He was taking a huge risk. She might very well run him over.
She rolled slowly forward and honked the horn, but he didn’t move. His stomach tightened as she edged closer, but he didn’t move, staring right back at her as she glared at him.
Finally, she slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to a stop only inches from his knees. Clive let out a relieved breath.
Renee leaned out of the window. “Get out of my way!”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“You’ve had plenty of time to talk and you didn’t.”
“I want to talk now.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk.”
“Well, I’m not moving.”
She stared at him through the windshield, and he folded his arms and waited. Rolling her eyes, she shifted the car into park and stepped out.
“What do you want to say?”
“Not here. Let’s go inside.”
“No. I don’t have time for that. I’m very busy. Let’s get this over with right here.”
“Renee, if you don’t go inside with me willingly, I’m going to lift your ass up and take you inside. And we both know I can carry you with no issue.”
She tightened her lips and cast her eyes downward, but he didn’t miss the brief flash of heat that sent a pulse of awareness through him. He wanted to take her in his arms, ki
ss away the hurt and beg for forgiveness, but he knew their reconciliation would not be that easy. At the very least, he had to take a chance that she would understand his predicament and forgive him for being a coward.
Without a word, she grabbed her purse, locked the car, and led the way back into the house through the garage. The entire time, he fixated on the way the cream linen pants fit over her hips and complemented the shape of her ass. She wore a gold link belt, gold sandals, and a burgundy blouse.
She’d had a haircut recently. Her hair was tapered extra short in the back and stacked in shiny, lustrous curls. He missed messing up her hair with his fingers or having her sweat out her neatly arranged style. Whether she was freshly dressed and put together like now, or laughing as they lay in bed together—her hair flat and face makeup free—Renee was a sexy woman.
He couldn’t let her go yet. Seeing her up close and hearing her voice again had reminded him of how much he needed her and how empty the past couple of weeks had been without her.
Clive trailed Renee into the living room. “Where are you headed?”
She tossed down her purse and rested her hands on her hips. “None of your business.”
“You look amazing.”
“Don’t try to flatter me,” she said in an arctic tone.
Fair enough. He had work to do.
“I’m sorry I left you at the hotel restaurant, but there’s something you should know. I didn’t respond to you because I...uh...I didn’t, I couldn’t, read the text.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t read the text? You got it, didn’t you?” she asked irritably.
“You don’t understand.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and then opened them again to look at her. “I couldn’t read the text, Renee.”
“I heard you the first time.” Her eyes widened. “Oh. Are you saying…?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” he said harshly.
Her mouth fell open. “Clive, why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you were me… No, if our roles were reversed, would you have told me?”
She remained silent.
He exhaled and pulled in a little more courage with the next inhaled breath. “I can read a little bit, but not much. Struggled in school my whole life, but because I was an athlete, they let me sail through. I never wanted you to find out and figured I could delay that as long as possible. But the night of the reading event, it hit me how much more educated than me you were. So that’s it.”
“That’s why you use the recorder. That’s why you had me write down my name and number.”
He nodded, heat burning his cheeks. When she looked at him with sympathy-filled eyes, he snapped, “Don’t do that! I’m not stupid!”
“I never said you were. I don’t think you are.”
They were both silent for a few seconds, neither looking at the other until she asked softly, “Does anyone else know?”
“Very few people,” he admitted. “Sometimes I can figure words out, but it’s a struggle. I want to be able to read stories with my granddaughter and help her with her homework when Chelsea’s at work, but sometimes I think it’s too late. I don’t have the brain necessary to learn what I need to. I’m too old.”
“You’re never too old. Have you considered taking classes?”
“I signed up for classes at the Adult Literacy Center. I’ve signed up before and didn’t do well, but I decided to try again.”
He hoped the classes weren’t a waste of time again, but one thing he did notice, there were a lot more people than the first time he tried. Maybe the stigma was disappearing from illiteracy, but he saw all ethnic groups, young, old, and in-between.
“I can help, if you want,” Renee said gently.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t. I offered.”
“No.”
“I’m a teacher, for goodness’ sake.”
“I need to do this on my own, once and for all.”
She rubbed her hands together. “Thank you for telling me. My opinion of you hasn’t changed. If you’d told me in the first place, I would have offered to help then. You don’t have to hide who you are from me. I like you the way you are.”
He smiled in relief. “You’re an amazing woman, Renee. I like you just the way you are, too, and I’m damn sorry I didn’t have the courage to tell you sooner. I’ve gotten so used to hiding my limitations over the years, I naturally did it, even after we became closer. Matter of fact, the closer we became, the more amazing I realized you are, and the more I wanted to hide that part of myself.”
“I don’t want you to hide any part of yourself.”
“I don’t want to, either. I promise to work hard as hell when I’m in these classes. Something has to change, and a wise woman once told me that anything is possible if we work hard enough.”
Her lips broadened into a smile. “Sounds like something I would say.”
He moved closer. “Is it? I’m not sure where I heard that.”
She tilted her head back to smile up at him. “I’m pretty sure I’m the wise woman you heard that from.”
He chuckled, pulling her soft body against his and sliding his arms up the curve of her back. “I missed you. Damn, I missed you.”
“I couldn’t tell,” Renee said with a pout.
“I was still deciding whether or not I was going to tell you the truth. Time slipped away from me, but don’t doubt that I missed you. You really are an amazing woman, and if you didn’t know already, I’m falling in love with you.”
Her eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip. “I’m falling in love with you, too, and I absolutely didn’t expect it.”
“Well, that’s because I’m so lovable.”
She threw back her head and laughed. He squeezed her closer, kissing and then sucking the tender skin of her neck as he inhaled her intoxicating perfume.
“That you are,” she said softly.
Adelaide & Hector
1
“Honey, I’m fine. Your father and I have been divorced for six months. You don’t have to keep checking on me.” Adelaide held the phone to her ear, a tote bag of groceries on her shoulder as she entered the house through the door leading from the garage.
Her only daughter, Karen, was on the phone. She’d gone to New York after college to start a career in theater and been out there for a year but hadn’t had much luck so far. She was certainly talented, but there were thousands—possibly millions—of Karens in the Big Apple with the same talent, drive, and hunger for success.
“I check on you and Dad because I want to make sure you’re both okay. My new roommate, Monica? Her parents divorced after years together, too, and four months later her father ended up with a shiny red Corvette and an Instagram model. Her mother wound up following the rock band Imagine Dragons across the country.”
“Sounds like fun,” Adelaide joked as she plopped the bag on the counter.
“Not funny, Mom. I want you and Dad to be normal, please.”
“We’ll be normal, I promise.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll stop worrying. Maybe. Have you heard from Junior?”
Karen’s twin, Hector Jr., was a wildlife photographer and currently on location in Botswana.
“We talked a few days ago, and he emailed a link to pictures he uploaded to the cloud. You didn’t see them?”
“No. Why doesn’t he send a text, like normal people? Oh, I know, because our parents prefer to use email like it’s the Stone Age.”
“I see you haven’t lost your charm.”
Karen laughed. “By the way, Monica wants to know if you’d like to adopt her. The carrot cake and cookies you sent last week have convinced her to sever ties with her own family to join ours.”
Monica had only been living with Karen and their other roommate for a few months, ever since the last young woman gave up on her entertainment dreams and moved back home. Since Monica moved in, Adelaide had sent cookies, chocolate cake, and an appl
e crumb cake as well. She was used to this type of reaction because few things gave her as much pleasure as cooking and baking, and she was gifted at both.
That’s why, on a whim, she’d stopped on her way home and picked up a multi-page brochure from the School of Culinary Arts. The school offered classes for newbies and seasoned cooks. She toyed with the idea of starting her own catering service and having a diploma would give her credibility. She placed it on the counter with the intention of reviewing it later.
Adelaide pulled pasta and fresh tomatoes out of the bag. “Tell Monica I’m sorry, but I’m not looking for any more children at the moment. Well, I might be in the market for a new daughter if my current daughter doesn’t act right and stop calling me with unwarranted concerns about my mental health.”
“Ha, ha. I call because I love you.”
The chime of the security monitor snagged her attention. Adelaide set the tomatoes in a bowl on the counter and checked the screen. “Danny’s here. He’s parking his car.”
“Let me talk to the little knucklehead.”
“Hold on.”
Daniel was home for the summer and would be entering his sophomore year once classes resumed in the fall. Exiting the gray Nissan, he looked dispirited with his shoulders slouched, hands shoved into his jeans, and his head bent. His head full of curly hair appeared much more disheveled than when he’d left the house earlier to go see his girlfriend.
He entered the kitchen.
“Hey, honey.”
Dull eyes met hers. Something was wrong.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Karen’s on the phone. She wants to say hi.”
Adelaide handed over the phone and proceeded to finish unpacking the groceries while listening to Daniel’s end of the conversation and keeping an eye on him. He only offered monosyllabic responses to Karen’s enthusiastic chatter, and their conversation ended around the same time she finished putting away the groceries.
“What do you want for dinner? You can have meatloaf or meatloaf.” She grinned, expecting her attempt at humor to elicit a smile, but none came. Sad brown eyes met hers. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
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