“I agree with that,” Nicole told her.
Brittany gave her a quick smile, then turned the page. “That’s me. I was born in Oklahoma, where Dad played football at Oklahoma University. This is the house we lived in. It’s small, but cute. My mom and dad were so lucky. They got to be together all the time, they had a baby they loved.”
Which sounded a little too movie-of-the-week for reality. “I’m sure it was a struggle,” Nicole said carefully. “Being that young, away from home, with a new baby. They had to have been scared.”
“Maybe.” Brittany dismissed her words with a shrug. “But they had each other. Dad talks about those early years all the time. How much fun they had. The boosters were really great, getting mom a job, helping with babysitting. College football is really big there and Dad was a star player.”
She turned another page. “Everyone said they were too young, that it wouldn’t work out, but it did. My parents were in love until the day my mom died.”
Nicole ignored the reference to Serena. Being in this house made it impossible to escape her. But there were other issues. She excused herself and went into the kitchen to help Hawk with the cleanup.
“Brittany showing you pictures?” he asked as he loaded the dishwasher.
“Yes. Everything is well documented.”
He laughed. “Serena liked taking pictures and having them taken. I’m not as into that. People are going to think Brittany is twelve forever.”
“I doubt that.” She collected glasses and carried them over to him. “She talked a lot about what it was like when you and Serena first got married. How wonderful everything was.”
He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her point.
“It had to have been difficult at times,” she said, trying to sound casual. “You were both young and away from home for the first time.”
“Maybe, but we had a lot of local support. It was good.”
“Brittany seems to feel it was almost magical. As if with enough love, everything is fine.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“She’s a seventeen-year-old girl with a steady boyfriend. Don’t you want to be talking about consequences? Not every teenage pregnancy ends with little forest animals singing and dancing. Not every young marriage survives.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “You’re cute when you’re worried.”
“And you’re ignoring my point.”
He gave her an indulgent smile. “I’ve got this covered. Brittany’s a good kid. We talk. I know what’s going on in her life. She and Raoul aren’t having sex yet. I’d know if they were.”
It wasn’t his fault, Nicole thought, trying not to take any of this personally. He was a man. A father, but still a man. He saw what he wanted to see.
“Hawk, you didn’t even know Raoul had been thrown out of his foster home. He’d been living in that abandoned building for weeks. Weeks in the summer, when it’s warm and they were alone for who knows how long with no distractions. Are you sure about the sex thing?”
He straightened. “Nicole, I know you’re trying to help, but this isn’t your concern. Brittany and I are close. We talk and I trust her. You’re not a parent, so you’re just going to have to believe me on this one.”
She ignored the dismissal. “I raised my sister from the time she was little. I would say I have experience.”
“Look how that went.”
She stiffened. “It was a different circumstance.”
“I know my daughter a whole lot better than you do. Nothing’s going on with Raoul.”
Nicole was willing to bet a lot that he was wrong. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’ve taught her that young love heals all. You’ve taught her that getting pregnant at seventeen is just the beginning of the adventure.”
“I’m not going to talk about this anymore,” he told her.
“Why? Because there’s only one point of view? Because only you get to be right? I actually hope I’m wrong, Hawk, because if I’m not, both of you are going to learn a hell of a lesson.”
He stared at her. “What is this really about?”
“What?”
“You have an agenda. You must. You’re putting way too much energy into my daughter’s personal life. What’s your real problem?”
She couldn’t believe it. She was just trying to help. To be a friend. But could he see that? Of course not.
“You’re my problem,” she told him. “I’m going home.”
She walked to the front door, half expecting him to follow her and tell her to wait. That they could talk about the situation and find common ground. But he didn’t.
NICOLE CAME HOME from work in as crabby a mood as she’d left that morning. Nothing specific had gone wrong—she just felt out of sorts with the world.
She knew the cause was her stupid fight with Hawk, which bugged her. It wasn’t like they’d gotten really angry with each other. They’d just disagreed. So what? People did that all the time. Why would she care more when the other party was him?
But she did care and that bugged her even more.
She walked into the house through the back door and heard the sound of voices and laughter. Raoul was there with his friends.
In her present mood she wasn’t excited about a house full of teenagers, but she’d given him permission. It wasn’t like any of them were doing anything wrong.
She debated a glass of wine to help her relax, but it was too early and she didn’t want to drink in front of the teenagers. So she settled on chocolate, always a good soother. She poured M&Ms into a bowl and grabbed a diet soda. After all, balance was important.
The mail was on the kitchen table. She sat down with her snack and flipped through the mail, stopping to look at the cover of a magazine showing a very pregnant celebrity looking happy and radiant.
Nicole ignored the flashy headline and stared at the picture. Her mood took a turn for the sad. Was everyone on the planet pregnant but her? Was everyone in a real relationship and happy and starting a family?
Okay, Jesse probably wasn’t happy or in a relationship, but she was going to have a baby and wasn’t that a miracle?
Nicole touched the glossy photo and felt a deep, powerful longing inside. Nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to. Where had she gone so wrong with everything? What had she—
“Um, Nicole?”
She looked up and saw one of Raoul’s friends, this one a girl, standing in the kitchen. “Hi,” she said, trying to remember the kid’s name.
The girl, pretty, blond and a cheerleader, smiled. “Finola. Everyone calls me Finn.”
“Right. Finn. How can I help you?”
Finn had several papers in her hand. She crossed to the table and sat down. “I’m working on my college entrance essays. I wondered if maybe you could read them over and tell me what you think. My counselor said I shouldn’t use the same exact essay for every college. That I should try to match their personality, like I know what that means.”
She grinned and Nicole found herself smiling back. “I don’t know, either, if that’s what you were hoping for.”
Finn laughed. “It would be nice, but I thought maybe you could just read them and give me some suggestions on how to make them better.”
Nicole was flattered, but surprised. “I’m not an expert.”
“I know, but you’re so together and cool and stuff. Not like my mom. She doesn’t get things anymore.”
Nicole felt a flash of sympathy for Finn’s mother who probably tried to connect with her daughter, only to be dismissed.
“I’d be happy to.” She pushed the bowl of M&Ms toward Finn. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Over the next hour, Nicole and Finn talked about her essays. They were variations on a theme—talking about the summer her little brother had died in a swimming accident and how that had changed her family in general and her specifically.
“I haven’t done much,” Nicole said when the
y were finished. “You did a great job with these.”
Finn beamed. “Yeah? I hope so. I’ve been working on them a lot. I want to go to Stanford as a biochemistry major, then become a doctor.”
Nicole eyed the cheerleader uniform and knew she’d been guilty of judging the teen for the wrong things. “Good luck with that. And for what it’s worth, your mom probably understands a whole lot more than you give her credit for. You should try to talk to her more.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. Give it a try.”
Finn looked doubtful, but she murmured, “Okay,” as she left the kitchen.
Nicole returned to her magazine and M&Ms, only to have Claire walk into the kitchen a few minutes later. Her sister stared at her.
“You have teenagers in your house,” she said, sounding beyond surprised.
“I know.”
“A lot of them.”
“I’m a hangout. They’re Raoul’s friends. They seem to be fine. No one’s doing drugs in the basement and they clean up after themselves.”
Claire shook her head. “You have teenagers in your house.”
“You said that already.”
“This is very strange.”
Nicole pulled out a chair. “Want anything? Water? Juice?”
“A latte with an extra shot,” Claire said, then shook her head. “Sorry. Momentary caffeine urge. It’ll pass.” She sat down and grabbed some M&Ms. “What’s going on here?”
“I told you about Raoul. How I’ve taken him in.”
“I heard the words but I didn’t actually understand them. He lives here.”
“In the guest room.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know enough.”
“How long is he staying?”
“I have no idea. Possibly through June.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I like having him around. He’s a good kid and he deserves a break. Drew came back and Raoul protected me. Not with your style, of course.”
Claire laughed. “Does Drew still have a scar?”
“Oh, yeah.”
They smiled at each other.
Claire sorted her candy by colors and ate the green ones first. “Nicole, you know I love you, but you’re the least easygoing person I know. You take charge of things, you’re not especially patient. So how can you be so laid-back and casual about what’s happening with Raoul?”
Nicole considered the question. “I don’t know. I just am. Maybe I’m changing.”
“Maybe this is easy because it’s familiar.”
Nicole’s good mood retreated. “I’m not talking about Jesse. She’s gone and that’s a good thing.” She spoke firmly, even though she wasn’t sure it was a good thing at all.
“Doesn’t anything about this strike you as familiar? You’re raising yet another teenager.”
“Raoul doesn’t need raising. He needs a place to stay. That’s all I’m providing.”
“But there are similarities. You’ve traded one responsibility for another.”
“Maybe.” Nicole hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but so what?
“You miss her,” Claire said softly.
“She’s my sister. I’m supposed to miss her.” What she didn’t say was that nothing was right with Jesse gone.
“So let’s go find her and bring her back.”
Nicole stood and leaned against the counter. “To what end? She needs to learn her lesson.”
“Which lesson is that?”
“The one about taking responsibility. The one that forces her to grow up. She’s needed to grow up for a long time. She has to learn to make it on her own.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Nicole didn’t have an answer for that.
HAWK STALKED through his house, unable to settle down. He felt restless, which was unusual. Normally he was comfortable in his own skin.
He went upstairs where Brittany was doing homework in her room. He paused at the door.
“How long you going to be?” he asked. “I thought we could go do something. Maybe a movie.”
She looked at him. “Dad, it’s a school night.”
“Right.” He thought about making an exception on her midweek curfew, but knew that would send the wrong message. “I’ll go find something to watch on TV.”
“You should call her,” his daughter yelled as he walked down the hall.
That stopped him mid-stride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Nicole. You should call Nicole.”
He walked back to his daughter’s room. “Why would you say that?”
She gave him a look of long-suffering. One that said that parents were really, really stupid. “Because you’ve been crabby ever since you had a fight with her.”
How did Brittany know about that? “What fight?”
She rolled her eyes. “The one where you both talked in really tense voices, then she left without saying goodbye.” She sighed. “Don’t worry. I didn’t hear what the fight was about and I don’t want to know. It’s probably gross grown-up stuff or really boring.”
He didn’t know what to say to that.
“She’s nice,” Brittany said. “I like her. You like her. It’s okay to have a girlfriend, Dad. It’s not like you’re going to get married.”
“I don’t need your permission to date.”
“I know, but I’m still giving it.”
She was adorable and completely irritating, he thought as he shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Worship me, like everyone else. Seriously, Dad, you like her.”
“I know.”
“So, go for it. Apologize.”
“How do you know I’m the one who was wrong?”
“Because you’re the guy. Just don’t, you know, get too serious with her.”
“That’s not going to happen.” He would never replace Serena. He couldn’t. She had been the love of his life. Why would he want to fall for someone else?
“So you’ll call?” Brittany asked.
“Maybe.”
“You should. Nicole’s great.”
She was, he thought as he walked down the hall again. Thinking about it now, their argument had been pointless. He knew his daughter and trusted her completely. End of story. Nicole didn’t understand that, but that was okay.
“Are you calling?” Brittany yelled.
“Get off me, kid.”
She laughed and he smiled.
JESSE PULLED INTO the small parking lot to give herself a chance to try to get a grip. She was crying too hard to see the road, which made driving dangerous.
She knew she had no one to blame for her current situation but herself, which didn’t make her feel better. She’d blown it totally. Everything she’d loved, everything that was important to her, had been lost.
As she brushed away tears, she told herself to get it together. She had to make a decision about what she was going to do with her life. Or at least how she was going to survive the next few months. She was broke, low on gas and three hundred miles from Seattle in Spokane. Now what?
As if answering the question, someone tapped on her window.
Great. Just what she needed. Interference.
She lowered the window a few inches, but didn’t bother looking at the person. “What?” she asked sharply.
“You okay?”
It was a man’s voice. He sounded concerned, which was just great for him, but wouldn’t do her any good. She needed the chance to go back in time and fix all the problems in her life, which wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She turned to look at the guy. He was old, like grandpa age, but kind-looking, which made her want to tell him everything. Except the shock of her story might give him a heart attack and she didn’t need one more thing to feel guilty about.
“Go away,” she told him.
And there came the guilt. She rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way. Look, thanks for asking, but you don’t want to get involved.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re not really interested in my life. No one is—not even me.”
“Sounds like the first line of a country song.”
Of all the insensitive things to say, she thought, willing to burn off the little gas she had left by driving away. Then part of her realized he was right and she started to laugh, only to have the tears take over again.
“Okay, that’s not good,” the guy said and opened her car door. “Come on, young lady, let’s get you inside. You hungry? The food’s not fancy, but I cook a mean burger.”
Before she knew what had happened, she’d been led into a dark bar. The man flipped on lights, then pointed to the bar. “Have a seat.”
She settled on a stool. He passed her several paper napkins and a glass of water.
“Start at the beginning,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.”
“Is that true?”
He was nice, she told herself. She should be nice back. But what she said was, “I’m pregnant. My sister thinks I slept with her husband, but I didn’t, only she won’t believe me. My boyfriend is the father of my baby and he doesn’t believe it’s his. He said he didn’t c-care if it was his.” The tears started again.
She blew her nose. “I had a big fight with my sister and with Matt and I left Seattle. I don’t have any money or anywhere to go and I don’t have a job or a place to stay. Is that enough for you?”
“It’s a start,” the old man said. “So get a job.”
She glared at him. “Doing what? Do I look skilled to you?”
“You must be able to do something. Everyone can do something.”
She could bake, Jesse thought grimly. She made perfect cakes and cookies that were so good, people cried when they ate them. But the recipes all belonged to the bakery and using them herself seemed wrong. Not to mention the last time she’d tried, Nicole had thrown her in jail.
“Nothing,” she said at last. “I can’t do anything.”
“How old are you?”
She glared at him. “Excuse me?” Was he coming on to her? That was disgusting. Beyond disgusting. “I’m outta here.”
Sweet Spot Page 15