“Does that mean you’ll stay?” she asked.
Flashing lights and sirens screamed no!
One look at those big brown eyes of hers and he couldn’t say anything but, “Sure, um, just let me give a heads-up to my guys.”
“HAVE EVERYTHING you need?” Allie asked, self-conscious in her ragtag flannel pj’s and terry cloth robe. She stood on the threshold to the guest room—for tonight at least, Caleb’s room. When her mother came down for the occasional visit, it’d never seemed cramped. But then, Allie’s mom was only five foot two.
Allie licked her lips, trying with everything in her not to look at Caleb’s powerful chest.
“Thanks for the offer,” Caleb said. “But looks like I’m all set.” He balled up his dirty shirt, flung it in the corner. “Nice place you’ve got here. Beats the hell out of my motel.”
“Thanks,” she said, unexpectedly touched that he approved of her home. The home she’d made for herself and his son. The home she’d secretly wished a thousand times over that Caleb loved her enough to share in every conceivable way.
“You’re welcome.”
“Got towels?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, pointing to the leaning pile of them she’d planted on the end of his bed. “There’s enough there for like two weeks.”
“Right. I forgot. How about pillows? Blankets? Soap or shampoo? Razor? Well—all I have are girly ones, but—”
He looked deep into her eyes. Put his hand on her shoulder. The hand that led up his muscular bare forearm and bicep and shoulder she used to sink her teeth into when they made love. His chest was broader than it had been nine years ago. His scent an all-too-familiar, all-too-seductive blend of a long day mixed with evergreens and rain.
“Allie,” he finally said. “I’m good. What are you really asking?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You seem like you’re stalling. There some reason why you don’t want to go to bed?”
“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “No reason at all. Just making sure you’re comfortable.”
“Very,” he said. “You’d make a great innkeeper.”
“Okay, then. Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
Caleb flashed her a smile.
The one she returned didn’t come close to reaching her eyes.
“I DON’T KNOW, CLARA,” Cal said at recess the next morning. His dad stood a little ways away, talking with one of his other guards. “I did what you said, and thought about which parent I want to live with all last night. But I never did get to see if Dad knows how to cook, and Mom brought home pizza for dinner. What does that mean?”
“Sorry, but that’s not a good sign.” Clara made her eyes all big, then grabbed the end of one of her braids and started sucking on it.
“Well, I already know Mom’s a good cook,” Cal said. “And when I tried getting Dad to buy me a present, he said he would, but I still don’t have it.”
“What’d you ask for?” Sam asked.
“A donkey or a rooster.”
All the kids who had gathered around the big shade tree next to the little slide laughed so hard they snorted.
“What’s so funny?” Cal asked. “I’ve always wanted both those things.”
“Dummy,” Clara said. “You’re supposed to ask for new Game Boy games and DVDs, not a donkey!”
“Well, I didn’t know.”
Hands on her hips, she said, “Well, now you do. Your homework for tonight is to find out if your dad cooks. If he cooks and gets you a donkey, then go with him. Otherwise, you might want to stay with your mom.”
Cal wrinkled his nose from confusion, but Clara was the expert, so he guessed he had to do whatever she said—even if it sounded lame. Otherwise he might not even get a rooster, let alone a donkey!
“Clara,” he said once most of his guy friends had headed for the tire swings. “You sure you’re right about all this? What if I don’t want to choose? Is there any way I can have both Mom and Dad?”
Clara took a long time to think about that, then said, “I guess you could make sure they stay married.”
“DAD?” CAL ASKED on the way home from school.
“Yeah?”
“I was curious. You ever cook?” The two of them sat in the backseat of a cool, black SUV with really dark tinted windows. That big guy, Bear, drove.
“Sure,” his dad said. “All the time.”
“Like what kinds of stuff?”
“I don’t know. Guy stuff. SpaghettiOs. TV dinners. Mac and cheese.”
“Yeah, but do you ever make Mom stuff? You know, like birthday cake and pancakes and Great-Grandma Beatrice’s meat loaf and spaghetti?”
“I make good oatmeal.”
“That’s it?” Cal pressed.
“What are you trying to get at?” his dad asked.
“Sounds to me,” Bear said, “like he’s feeling you out.”
“For what?” Caleb asked.
Cal laughed when his dad gave him a noogie. Even if his dad couldn’t cook, he was awfully fun to play with. When he stopped laughing long enough to breath, he said, “I’m askin’ you questions ’cause this girl Clara says I gotta know if you can do certain stuff.”
“How come?” His dad had a funny look on his face.
“’Cause she said now that you and Mom are getting divorced, I gotta pick which one to live with. She said whatever I do, I don’t want to pick the one who can’t cook, or else we won’t have anything to eat but pizza. I like it a lot, and Clara says if you eat it every night, then you won’t like it anymore.”
“Hmm,” his dad said. “This Clara sounds like a pretty smart girl—except for the part about me and your mom getting a divorce. That’d be kind of hard considering we’re not married.”
“But Billy said you couldn’t have had me if you never got married.”
Bear and Caleb laughed at that.
“Why’s that funny?” Cal asked.
“Wait a few years, kid.” Bear pulled the SUV into Cal’s driveway.
“Bear?” his dad asked. “Mind giving me and Cal a few minutes?”
Bear gave his dad an army kind of salute-thing, then jumped out of the car.
“What’d you wanna talk to me about?” Cal asked. “When we’re gonna get my donkey and rooster?”
“Sorry,” his dad said. “But it might be a while.” He looked out the window for a minute, then back to him. “Cal, I’m noticing a trend I’m not comfortable with.”
“What’s a trend?” Cal asked.
Caleb touched his forehead, not sure where to begin. Where’s a dictionary when you need one? “A trend is something that happens over and over. Like the way you keep bringing up this Clara girl and her ideas on what you should be saying and doing.”
“Yeah,” Cal said. “But she’s been divorced twice, so she knows everything about it.”
“I’m sure she does,” Caleb said, patting his kid’s knee. “And I’m not saying she doesn’t know a lot. But in this case—in our family’s case—maybe she doesn’t know quite as much as she should.”
“That what we are, Dad? A family? Me, you and Mom?”
Caleb cleared his throat. “That’s what I’d like to be.”
“Then will you and Mom be married? And live together and kiss and stuff?”
Groaning, Caleb was almost afraid to ask… “Where’d you hear that?”
“Sam. He says when you get married, you hafta kiss. I’m not ever gettin’ married, but I guess if you want to marry my mom, even though she lied to you, that’d be okay.”
“Thanks for the permission,” Caleb said. “But I really can’t see me and your mom tying the knot anytime soon.”
“What’s knot tying mean?”
“Just a fancy way for saying you’re married.”
Cal scrunched his nose. “So then you don’t want to marry Mom?”
“Dude, give me a break.” Caleb sighed. “Getting married isn’t all tha
t easy.”
“Sure, it is. All you hafta do is rent a tux and Mom has to buy a white dress. Clara said.”
“Oh, well,” Caleb laughed. “If Clara said it’s that easy, must be.”
“So then you’re gonna marry Mom?”
“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO COOK,” Allie said that night in the kitchen. “We could’ve ordered take-out. And I’m crazy about the canisters. You didn’t have to bring those, either, but…” She grinned. “I’m glad you did. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Caleb said, matching her smile.
The giant tomato, eggplant and carrot canisters looked great in the kitchen. Allie adored the bright colors. Almost as much as she loved the fact that Caleb had been the one to give them to her. And speaking of items she loved, Mr. Chia Head had finally sprouted hair!
Cal was upstairs doing homework.
She sat on a bar stool, dressed in her comfy flannel pj’s and white robe. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brought on this domestic streak?”
He snorted. “Remember Clara?”
“Unfortunately, yes. What’s she up to?”
“Seems she’s been coaching Cal on how to best handle us,” he said with a grimace. “You know, teaching him the fine art of wrangling a few goodies for himself out of the divorce settlement.”
Shaking her head, Allie asked, “He ever bother telling this Clara we’re not married?”
“That’s the best part. Our good pal Billy Stubbs evidently told him we’re already married—seeing how it’s physically impossible, you know, to have a child any other way.”
“Of course,” Allie said. “How could I have forgotten?”
Caleb stood at the stove, turning pork chops in his favorite cast-iron skillet. It’d been her father’s favorite, too. She hadn’t used it since leaving Caleb.
Leaving Caleb….
She rubbed her eyes.
“Tired?” he asked.
“More mental than physical.”
“Know what you mean. Wine?” He held up a clear bottle filled with amber liquid, topped by a shiny, twist-off cap.
She laughed.
“Hey,” he said. “This was all Adam’s doing, not mine.”
“Lord help the woman who one day lands him. It’ll be grilled cheese and beer all the way.”
“Hey, what’s wrong with grilled cheese? We used to eat them nearly every day after class.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That was before I’d tasted filet.”
He glanced at the perfectly browned pork chops in his pan. “Want me to toss these?”
Her stomach growled. “What do you think? I always loved your pork chops.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, stirring the rice simmering in a sauté pan.
“Thought I did.”
“Nope.” He turned off the flame that’d been steaming broccoli. “Come to think of it, there’s a lot you never said.”
While he poured “wine” for them both, Allie sighed. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about pork chops anymore?”
He shrugged before taking three plates from the cupboard.
“What’s on your mind, Caleb? You never were any good at hiding your emotions.”
“As opposed to you?”
“Ouch.”
“That’s one way to describe the way I felt seeing your empty house.” He set the plates on the table, following them with napkins and silverware.
“Let’s not hash over this again.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s pointless,” she said. “I messed up. I’ve admitted it. I apologized. What more do you want?”
“Marry me,” he blurted.
“What?” Shock spiked her eyebrows.
“The night you told me you were pregnant, Allie, I told you I’d make it right. The night I found out you’d left, I’d been doing just that. Dammit, I was at your house ready to propose.”
“Caleb, stop.” Hands to her temples, Allie said, “You’re not even making sense.”
“Like your taking off did? Lying to me did? Us getting married is the only action that would make sense. Our boy needs a dad. You could use help around the house.”
“And what do you need, Caleb? What is it you hope to gain from a quickie wedding?”
“Me?” he asked. “I’ll finally be getting the son you scammed me out of nine years ago.”
“A son? That’s it?” Overwhelming sorrow made it hard for Allie to breathe. Wasn’t there even a little bit more he wanted from being married to her? Like love? Companionship?
“Isn’t Cal enough?” he said. “Nine years ago I told you I’d make things right, and by God, that’s what I intend to do.”
Tears caught at the back of Allie’s throat, stung her eyes. No, Caleb, making things right wasn’t anywhere near good enough nine years ago, and it still isn’t now.
“MAN, THIS IS GOOD,” Cal said, digging in to his third pork chop. “How come you guys aren’t eating?”
Caleb gulped cheap wine, wishing it was bourbon.
He glanced at Allie, who was picking at her broccoli. She said, “I’m plenty hungry. See?” She forked a miniscule bite.
Caleb rolled his eyes.
“I’m gonna be a vampire for Halloween,” Cal said.
“Nice,” Caleb said.
Cal beamed upon receiving his father’s approval. “Only I’m gonna eat licorice instead of blood. It’s still red, but tastes better, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” Allie said. “But wouldn’t you rather be something less scary? You know like a scarecrow or Dalmatian? Or that ladybug costume you wore a few years ago? You were so cute.”
“Geez, Mom, I don’t wanna be cute. I wanna be scary. Don’t you know anything?”
“Guess not,” Allie said, trying to ruffle his hair, but he ducked before she got too close.
“I’m done,” he said, guzzling the last of his chocolate milk. “Can I watch Disney Channel?”
“Clear the table first.”
“Aw, man.”
“Cal,” Caleb said reflexively, ignoring Allie’s squinty glare.
The boy quickly finished his work, leaving Caleb once again alone with Allie. Only he wasn’t all that sure alone with her was a place he wanted to be.
“I’m losing him,” she said, cradling her forehead in her hands. “All this macho stuff. Before you showed up, he’d wanted to be an airplane for Halloween.”
“Allie,” Caleb said, instinctively putting his hand over hers. She tried snatching her hand away but he wouldn’t let her. After a few seconds of struggle, she relaxed against him. “He’s growing up. It would’ve happened whether I’d entered the picture or not. Shoot, I remember the year I switched from cute to scary. Same thing happened with my brothers. Gillian even started out as a princess and Cinderella, but wound up a witch.” He winced. “Don’t tell her I said so, but during a few of her teen years, she kept up the costume year-round.”
“That’s mean.” With her free hand, Allie delivered a light smack to his arm. “What about all of Cal’s gun play? Before you showed up, he never…How could I have forgotten?”
“What?”
“The day you got here, but before you’d arrived at the courthouse, instead of making airplanes or houses with his Legos, he’d made a gun. This thing with Francis, it’s affected him more than I thought. I’m sorry for blaming you.”
“Apology accepted,” Caleb said, touched by her willingness to admit she’d been wrong. “But even without Francis, Cal is going to grow up. Are you ready? Have you thought about how your life is going to change when he’s no longer dependent on you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know why I threw it out there.”
“To punish me,” she said, yanking her hand back, then crossing her arms. “Yet again.”
“No.”
�
�Then why do you keep bringing up things you know are only going to upset me?”
“Believe me, Al, if that is what I’m doing, it’s not intentional. I’m sorry if you think it has been.”
“Are you, Caleb?” The look she fixed on him was chilling. Hard and cold and flinty, and at the same time sad. So sad. Had he caused all that?
“Why, Caleb?” she asked. “Why do you keep asking me to marry you? The truth?”
He rubbed his throbbing temples.
“That’s what I thought,” she said.
“What? I didn’t even say anything.” How could he when just looking at her had him so mixed up he could hardly remember his own name, let alone why he was still so angry with her. Why he’d ever been angry with her.
“I’m going to bed,” she said. “Could you please tuck in Cal? Oh, and leave the dishes. I’ll do them in the morning.”
“Allie, wait.”
“Why?” She paused on the bottom step of the back staircase, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why should I wait for you now, Caleb, when you never gave me a reason to wait all those years ago?”
“We could start over,” he said. “We should start over.”
“I’m too tired,” she said.
“That’s not fair.”
“To who? Cal or you?”
“Both.” He left the table to go to her, finger her robe’s soft lapels.
She closed her eyes, arched her head back, giving him an unobstructed view of the sweet, simple column of her throat. His fingertips itched to feel it, caress it. His lips to kiss it.
“Whether you want to acknowledge it or not,” he said, “there’s still something between us. Just because you abandoned it—me—that doesn’t mean the energy went away.” Far from it, in his case anyway. While he’d hoped, dreamed, prayed that with time what he felt for Allie would forever fade, in reality it had simmered, just beneath the surface.
Taunting, teasing.
And now it was back.
Marrying the Marshal Page 11