Picture Perfect

by Sherry Lewis

  If she decided to let Michael play, she’d pay cash. Everything she did or bought for the next three months would be paid for in cash. The only way to protect their anonymity was to avoid using checks, credit cards or anything else with her real name.

  “Well, I…” Abby began, but Jack had already turned his attention to Kurt.

  “I put the camera over by my gear. I need you to get a few pictures of the team this week, or the parents with scrapbook fetishes are going to have my head.”

  Kurt groaned.

  “Look—” Jack held up his hands as if to ward off Kurt’s protest “—I’ve got enough to tangle with right now and I really need your help. Just grab the camera.”

  With another grin in Abby’s direction, Jack sprinted onto the diamond, shouting directions at the boys.

  Kurt turned back to Abby and Erin. “We usually sit on the bleachers back here.” He indicated a shabby stand of seats behind them.

  Surely he didn’t intend to sit with them all afternoon, Abby mused. An assistant coach must have things to do. Keeping Erin here would be uncomfortable enough without the added worry that one of them might say something wrong in front of Kurt. But how could she refuse to join him without raising questions in his mind?

  Resigned, Abby took Erin’s hand and followed Kurt again through the crowd of children. The girl’s hand remained stiff and unresponsive, and her eyes reflected her uneasiness.

  The bleachers were nearly empty except for five or six women and two men, all of whom eyed them curiously. In the second row, a pretty brunette stood as they approached.

  “Brody’s looking good tonight,” she said. “He should do better this year, don’t you think?”

  Kurt gazed out onto the field. “I hope so. Last year was pretty rough on him.”

  The woman kissed Kurt’s cheek lightly and smiled at Abby. “I’m Theresa Morgan, Jack’s wife. And you’re Abby Harris? Kurt told us you’d be bringing your son to practice today. And this must be your daughter—Erin, isn’t it?”

  Erin managed a tiny smile and sat gingerly on the peeling bleachers. Abby perched uncomfortably beside her.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Theresa went on. “Brody’s needed a friend close by. And quite frankly, having another woman around won’t hurt him, either. So, how do you like the house? It’s beautiful, isn’t it? And the view! You couldn’t find a place in town with a view like that.”

  Theresa’s enthusiasm drew Abby in immediately. If she’d come to Pine Cove for any other reason, she’d enjoy Theresa’s company.

  “What position does your son play?” Theresa asked, pushing her sunglasses onto her head and squinting at the field.

  Kurt’s eyes flickered in Abby’s direction, but this time she knew the answer. “He likes to pitch.”

  She held her breath, waiting for Kurt to ask her why she’d lied before. But though he studied her for a long moment, he looked away without a word.

  Theresa nodded. “We can always use another good pitcher.” Seeming to tire of the action on the field, she looked at Erin. “How old are you, Erin?”

  “Eleven,” Erin said quietly.

  “I remember being that age.” Theresa met Abby’s eyes with humor. “Nine and eleven? Those are fun ages.”

  Maybe. If the “parent” had some clue as to what she was supposed to do. Abby’s lack of experience left her feeling lost.

  Theresa gave Erin a playful nudge with her shoulder. “We’ve got some awfully cute eleven-and twelve-year-old boys around here. Maybe after practice, I’ll introduce you to some of the kids your age.”

  Erin pulled away sharply and trained her eyes on her feet.

  Hoping to distract Theresa from Erin’s reaction, Abby smiled. “I don’t think so, but thanks,” she said. “We’re all still pretty tired from our trip and we really should leave right after practice.”

  From down on the field, Jack signaled to Theresa with a raised hand. Rolling her eyes in mock exasperation, she shrugged. “I’ll see you again later. I’m being summoned.” With a big smile she hurried toward her husband.

  Abby searched the field and found Michael and Brody still throwing a ball back and forth. Michael handled the ball easily. Even to Abby’s eye he looked natural, almost graceful. Surely Kurt noticed how well Michael played—but so far he hadn’t said a word about her lie. And though she suspected he’d raise the subject sometime, she was grateful for the respite. Maybe by the time he brought it up, she’d have thought of a believable excuse.

  As the practice progressed, Kurt responded to Brody’s obvious need for approval, raising his thumb in the air to signal a good catch, whistling and clapping whenever Brody hit the ball during his turn at bat. But though Brody glanced into the bleachers often to receive his father’s praise, he never smiled back.

  On the other hand, Michael seemed content without Abby’s attention. Too content. Too obviously disconnected from her. He ran, threw, hit and caught the ball with ease, scarcely noticing whether she was still there. And by the time practice ended, she was filled with a sense of fear that Kurt had noticed how separate Michael kept himself from her.

  Other children ran to parents and received pats on the back and ruffled hair with pleasure. But Michael stood apart from Abby and scarcely looked at her until she told him how well he’d done.

  “So are you going to let me play?” he asked.

  “I guess.”

  “You guess yes? Or you guess no?”

  The sight of his little face alight with such eagerness softened her heart. Ignoring the voice of caution, Abby relented. “All right, you can play.”

  Michael smiled. “Really?”

  She nodded.

  “Thanks.” He hesitated for a moment, as if he thought he should make some physical contact with her, but he turned away, instead, and raced back onto the diamond to return his equipment.

  Abby watched him go. She hoped letting him play wouldn’t be a problem. It was only Little League, after all. In a town of eight hundred people.

  Kurt observed Michael and Abby, and once again had the feeling that something wasn’t right. He’d tried all day not to wonder about them, but their relationship bothered him. Why had Abby lied about Michael? The boy was a natural at the game.

  He told himself that maybe she just didn’t want to spend the summer watching Little League games. Maybe she felt he’d backed her into a corner—and resented it.

  He shook himself mentally. He wanted Brody to have a friend. Period. Abby Harris and her opinion of him weren’t at issue.

  He’d already decided to ignore the magnetic pull she seemed to have on him. And he’d promised himself to remember, at all times, that she had a husband.

  He wondered for a moment whether the absent Mr. Harris worried about her. Or did he know she loved him and so trusted her to remain faithful, no matter where he went or how long he spent away from her?

  Kurt had once trusted Laura, and look where that had gotten him. He’d never suspected her of being unfaithful until the end. He’d been a fool to believe her reports of boredom when she came home from her business trips to New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles. He hadn’t expected her to give up her career or curtail the travel it required, even after Brody came. But neither had he expected her to spend increasingly more time away from home—which she seemed to do even when her job didn’t demand it.

  By the time they’d moved back to Pine Cove from Seattle, he’d sensed it was over between them; by then the damage had been done. And less than six months after he’d finished the house, she was gone. She hadn’t called or written to Brody once since the day she walked out. He’d heard just two months ago that she’d gotten married again, this time to some hotshot lawyer from L.A.

  Brody tugged at his sleeve, drawing him back to the present. “Can Michael come over for ice cream?” he asked.

  Kurt hesitated. Abby hadn’t given him any reason to believe she’d be interested in any relationship with him, even friendship. When he met her eyes
, Kurt felt her shutting him out. Just as she should. But a tiny spark of disappointment ignited inside him.

  He pulled himself together for his son’s sake. “Brody and I usually have ice cream after his practices. Would you like to join us?”

  Abby reacted immediately, shaking her head and looking almost nervous. “No. Thank you.”

  “Maybe another time, then,” he said pleasantly. Throwing an arm across Brody’s shoulders, Kurt deliberately turned his attention away from her.

  He couldn’t deny that something about her drew him, but he’d just have to avoid her whenever possible. No sense taking unnecessary chances. He hadn’t reached thirty-four without realizing physical attraction had very little to do with logic. The trick was to keep from acting on the feeling.

  He found Abby attractive, yes, but in an abstract way, he told himself. Like a beautiful painting. Just because he found her looks appealing didn’t mean that she attracted him. After all, she was another man’s wife.

  Kurt steered Brody toward the Jeep. But as he walked, he watched Abby ahead of him. Dragging his eyes away from her, Kurt studied the clouds and tried to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ABBY SPREAD peanut butter on a slice of bread and reached for the jar of strawberry jam. Across the table, Erin studied her fingers and Michael drummed his hands on his knees to the rhythm of a tune only he could hear. They’d been in town just over a week. Michael had fallen into a pattern easily, but Erin was still as remote as ever. And every day, Abby struggled to find something that would pull a positive response from the girl. “Do you two want to do anything special this afternoon?”

  Erin shook her head, but Michael looked up. “I’ve got practice at five.”

  Abby smiled. “How could I forget? Erin?”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t there anything special you’d like to do?”

  Erin’s head tilted and Abby held her breath. Maybe Erin would voice an opinion, express a preference, look Abby in the eye…

  “No” was all she said.

  Abby stifled the feeling of defeat and tried to keep her voice light. “How about taking a drive?”

  Erin shrugged. “If you want to.”

  “Can Brody come?” Michael stopped playing the drums and leaned forward eagerly.

  “I don’t think so,” Abby replied simply.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d like it to be just us—our family. We need some time together.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Michael.”

  Slumping back against his seat, Michael turned away, offended. Would she never say the right thing? Abby wondered. Would she always hurt one of them by trying to do the best thing for the other? She’d been dragging Erin to Michael’s Little League practices, making her face the crowds and the noise. Now, when she wanted to give Erin some quiet time, Michael felt betrayed because she wouldn’t invite his new friend.

  She jabbed the knife into the jam and spread a layer over the peanut butter, settled the top slice of bread in place and handed it to Michael. “Another time, okay?”

  Michael accepted the sandwich, but shrugged unhappily. “Okay. But he’s not going to have anything to do.”

  “I’m sure he’ll find something,” Abby said firmly. “What did he do before you came to town?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? All summer long?” She tried to bite back a smile at Michael’s theatrical tone.

  “Yeah. And he hates it. His dad’s never home, you know.”

  “I don’t think it’s quite that bad. His dad has to work, but he’s home in the evenings, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. He’s home in the evenings.” Michael gave her a look full of meaning. But it didn’t change her mind. Easing Brody’s summer boredom didn’t fall in her list of top priorities.

  Abby started on another sandwich and studied Erin. She didn’t even know whether Erin wanted or needed time with Michael. But Brody had appeared at their back door every afternoon since they’d arrived, and Michael had raced off to play, leaving Erin alone. Abby couldn’t help thinking Erin needed some time with her brother.

  When Brody showed up today, Abby would send him home with an invitation to come back tomorrow. Surely he’d be all right for one day.

  She handed Erin her lunch and reached for the lid to the peanut-butter jar when a knock sounded at the back door. Brody. Just like clockwork.

  Michael leapt from his seat and opened the door before Brody could knock again. “Hey! You brought your rocket launcher! Cool! Bring it in and show my mom. I’m still eating. You want a sandwich?”

  Abby reached for the bread again. Of course Brody would want a sandwich. She’d fed him lunch every day this week. And she didn’t mind, but today she had other plans. Well, she’d let Brody finish his sandwich and a glass of milk and hope that it wouldn’t make it harder to scoot him out the door when the time came.

  “Hey, Mom,” Michael continued, “look at this. This is the thing I was telling you about. That I saw on TV—remember?”

  Out of the zillion things he’d pointed out? Of course she didn’t remember. But she smiled and studied the long plastic tube and the spongy-looking rocket with interest, hoping she’d remember it when Christmas came around.

  “My dad gave it to me for my birthday last month,” Brody explained, taking the sandwich and pouring a glass of milk.

  “Isn’t it great?” Michael plopped back onto his chair.

  “It’s great.” Abby stacked the pieces of the rocket launcher in the corner and started clearing away jars.

  “What are we going to do today?” Brody asked.

  Michael sent Abby a veiled glance. “Um…”

  “Actually, Brody, we have plans to go somewhere as a family. But Michael can play all day tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Brody flushed a deep red. “Okay.” He sounded all right, but Abby’s conscience twinged.

  “Is your dad at work?” she asked the boy.

  Brody nodded and drank the rest of his milk.

  “He’s always at work,” Michael chimed in.

  “Not always.” Brody wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and pushed away his plate.

  “Yeah, but a lot,” Michael muttered.

  Abby closed the refrigerator door. If Kurt’s work habits were a sore spot with Brody, the last thing he needed was Michael egging him on. “Michael, don’t—”

  Brody jumped up and gathered the pieces of his rocket launcher. “He doesn’t work as much as my mom used to. But he’s still gone a lot.”

  He sounded so sad Abby’s resolve crumbled. She couldn’t exclude him. “Then maybe you’d like to go with us.”

  “Really?” Brody dropped the rocket launcher and wheeled around to face her.

  The eagerness in his expression convinced her as nothing else could have. “Really. I’ll call your dad and make sure it’s okay.”

  Michael bolted out of his chair and nearly tackled her in an enthusiastic hug. “Thanks. You’re great.”

  Brody smiled shyly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  The two boys sprinted out the back door, shouting as they raced across the lawn. At the table, Erin picked at the remains of her sandwich.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I invited Brody,” Abby said.

  Erin shook her head and almost met Abby’s eyes. “I don’t mind.”

  “You’re sure?”

  This time, Erin looked up. “I like Brody.”

  Abby smiled. “I’m glad.” She glanced out the back door at the two boys. “They sure seem to get along well.”

  “I think Brody likes being around you.”

  “Me?”

  “Because of his mom leaving and everything.”

  Erin surprised her. She seemed so quiet and withdrawn that Abby sometimes wondered if she paid attention to anything around her. Obviously she did.

  “Really?”

  Erin nodded. “He says we’re lucky to have such a neat mom
who takes us places and does things with us.”

  Brody didn’t know their outings came about mostly because of her desperate attempts to keep the children occupied. But before Abby could respond, Erin darted out of the kitchen and ran upstairs. Abby cleared away the rest of the dishes, but Erin’s words kept buzzing around in her head as she worked. She’d been curious about Kurt and Brody—whether Kurt’s ex-wife lived nearby, whether Brody spent summers with Kurt and the rest of the year with his mother. But it sounded like Brody’s mother was completely out of the picture.

  She watched the boys race past the window and her heart went out to Brody—a father who worked too much, a mother who’d walked out on him. No wonder he enjoyed spending time with them.

  Abby genuinely liked him. He was a good boy who needed love and understanding as much as Erin and Michael did. And he’d found something here that made him happy.

  Wiping the table with a damp cloth, she settled the bouquet of daisies Brody had given her yesterday in its center and reached for the telephone. Now came the hard part.

  Telling herself she didn’t want to call Kurt, she excused her eagerness to hear his voice with the knowledge that she couldn’t just disappear with his son for the afternoon. If Brody continued to spend so much time with them, she’d probably have to speak with Kurt more often.

  She just hoped her heart wouldn’t thud like this every time she had to call him.

  KURT FLIPPED through the Baxter file for the second time. That deed of trust had to be in here somewhere. He just wasn’t concentrating.

  The look on Brody’s face at breakfast this morning still haunted him. During the past month, Kurt’s law practice had taken an upswing and now demanded more of his time. But every extra hour he spent away from home only widened the gap between him and his son. He could see it in Brody’s face, and that look had been there again at breakfast. Brody equated working extra hours with his mother’s desertion, and he was preparing himself for Kurt to follow her lead.

  He picked up the telephone and punched in his home number. But when Cindy answered, she confirmed his suspicions that Brody had already finished his chores and gone to Abby’s to play with Michael.