Tender Absolution

by Lisa Jackson

  He touched her water-slickened breasts, kissed her sleepy eyes and opened up that special part of her, touching her with strong fingers, forcing her to moan and gasp until at last he became one with her.

  She clung to his slippery body as wave after wave of hot desire caused her to cry out. When he finally finished, he held her close, the water beginning to turn cold as it ran down their bodies.

  He kissed her until her teeth began to chatter, then shoved the curtain back. “How about coffee now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  “Sounds like heaven.”

  Within minutes she’d towel-dried and dressed and was cradling a cup of coffee as she sat in front of the fire warming her feet. They ate toast and scrambled eggs and, since it was the weekend, didn’t worry about work.

  “Rory works Saturdays,” she explained when he asked.

  “Unfortunately I’ve got a seven-day-a-week job.” But he didn’t rush out the door. Instead, he rubbed a kink from his back and asked, “What about that call from the modeling agency?”

  “What about it?”

  “Aren’t you tempted to go back, make a big splash, prove that you’ve still got what it takes?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “I think I am, but I’ve thought that before.” She stared deep into his eyes. “I don’t have any plans to go back to New York, Ben, but I can’t predict the future.”

  They sat together on the couch and the phone began to ring. Ben didn’t bother answering, but listened to the messages as they were recorded. His foreman, Ralph Katcher, called and his sister, Nadine, left a message about a few last-minute changes to her plans, but Ben didn’t move. They sat side by side on the couch, sipping coffee, talking and laughing and tossing a tennis ball to the dog.

  Carlie told herself to stop dreaming, but she felt as if she’d finally quit running and come home. She let herself think that maybe they had a chance of a future together—if not marriage then a long-term affair.

  The word that she’d avoided for so long didn’t seem so wrong when she considered that the affair would be with Ben. One day at a time, girl, she cautioned herself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Remember what you just told him. Who knows what the future may bring?

  The phone rang again and Ben nuzzled her ear. “Maybe we should get out of here. Go on a picnic.”

  “It’s February.”

  “So what?”

  “We’d freeze.”

  “I can think of ways to keep warm.”

  The answering machine picked up the call and after the tape of Ben’s voice instructed the caller to leave a message, a woman’s voice filled the room.

  “Ben? It’s Tracy—”

  Carlie’s heart slid to the floor and beside her, Ben tensed.

  “I was hoping to catch you at home.”

  She sounded vastly disappointed.

  “Anyway, I left a message yesterday…. Maybe you didn’t get it, but I was hoping that we could do something together. Randy has been talking nonstop about you since the last time you came over and I could make us lunch…or whatever. He’s, um, got Little League tryouts this morning at the park in just a few minutes…. Oh, well, don’t worry about it.” There was a weighty pause and Ben shifted restlessly on the couch. Tracy added, “Randy misses you,” before hanging up with a click that seemed to echo through the cozy little house.

  Carlie glanced at Ben and noticed that the fun-loving glint in his eyes had disappeared. His mouth curved into a frown and he shoved an impatient hand through his hair.

  “Tracy Niday,” Carlie guessed.

  “Damn.”

  A deafening roar seemed to fill her ears. “You’re… seeing her?” All Carlie’s dreams shattered in that second when she saw the answer in his eyes. Her heart cracked. Good Lord, what had she expected? That he was in love with her? That because they’d made love, he wasn’t involved with anyone else? Her world tilting wildly, she set her empty coffee cup on a table and stood. “I…I think I’d better go,” she whispered, hearing her voice as if from a distance. Bitter disappointment flooded through her.

  Strong fingers clamped around her wrist. “Let me explain.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Of course I do.” He pulled her down to sit next to him. “I’m not dating Tracy, if that’s what you’re thinking. I only saw her a couple of times.”

  Oh, Lord!

  “She waited on me when I had lunch at the Buckeye and then she invited me over to dinner. That was a couple of weeks ago.”

  “And you haven’t seen her since?”

  He rubbed his jaw, as if guilt were eating him up. “No,” he admitted, “but I plan to.” He looked at her and must have seen the disappointment in her eyes. “For Randy. Kevin’s boy. He…uh…he needs a man. You know, to toss a football, to talk about baseball with, to fix his bike, to—”

  “To be a father,” she said and hated the dead sound in her voice. Randy is Ben’s nephew. The poor kid doesn’t have a dad. He just needs a man. But, why, oh, why does Tracy have to enter into it? She hated her jealousy. It made her feel so small. Tracy was a struggling single mother, for crying out loud, and yet Carlie felt this overwhelming need to hold on to Ben with all her might—to possess him! But he wasn’t a man who could be possessed. That’s why she loved him. Oh, God, she’d never admitted that horrible fact to herself before!

  “I’m not Randy’s father,” Ben said as his gaze searched her face.

  “But Kevin was,” Carlie whispered and everything became clear to her. She could never have Ben, not while Tracy was interested in him. Maybe Tracy only wanted to see him for the boy’s sake, but Carlie had a gut instinct, feminine intuition, that Tracy wanted Ben for herself. Carlie couldn’t blame her for that. Didn’t she feel the same?

  “Yes, Kevin was.”

  “So you need to see him.”

  “I think so,” he admitted, still scowling into the fire.

  Carlie didn’t have the heart to tell him to stay away from his nephew. She didn’t doubt that the boy needed a father figure in his life and Ben was the most likely choice. She saw Ben as Tracy saw him: strong, good-looking, responsible and sexy. Fresh out of the army, starting a new business and a new life, he’d be the perfect catch.

  Carlie’s heart squeezed. “Look,” she said, suddenly yanking her hand away from him as she scrambled to her feet, “I really have to go.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Just confused.”

  He stood and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, as if afraid she might disappear. “I don’t feel anything for Tracy, you know that. She just happens to be Randy’s mother.”

  Her voice failed her for a moment and tears burned at the back of her eyes. “I understand,” she whispered, though her voice threatened to crack.

  “Do you?”

  “Mmm. We’re not teenagers any longer. A lot has happened. I have to share you.”

  He held her at arm’s length and shook his head. “No way,” he said before dragging her close again and kissing her long and hard. Tears, unbidden, streamed from Carlie’s eyes. He didn’t understand—not the way she did. He was naive enough to think that they could still be lovers while he had dinner at Tracy’s and played ball with her son. Thoughts she’d never before experienced raced through her mind and she felt guilty for her need to have him to herself. She had to let Ben go. Kevin’s boy needed him. Probably more than Carlie did.

  Slowly she disentangled herself and started for the door before she heard the jangle of his keys. “I’ll drive you,” he said, “unless you were planning on hitchhiking back to town.”

  She managed a short, bittersweet laugh and Ben whistled to the dog. Attila raced to the door and as it was open, bounded
outside to leap at the sides of the cab.

  “He’s crazy about taking a drive,” Ben explained. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Never,” Carlie replied, hoping that her broken heart didn’t show in her eyes. She scratched the dog behind his ears and held open the door for him. Attila wanted the window seat so he could stick his head through the opening and Carlie ended up pressed tightly against Ben. She stared through the windshield and felt cold inside though the sun was shining brightly enough for Ben to reach in the glove compartment for his dark glasses.

  They passed the park and Ben glanced at the baseball field. “Randy’s already here,” he said with a frown. “I really should stop—” Without waiting for her response, he turned onto a side street near the baseball diamonds and guided the truck to a stop near the curb. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. Take your time. I’ll wait.”

  Ben didn’t look convinced, but pocketed his keys and climbed quickly out of the cab. Attila, ready for adventure, leapt to the ground and took off at a sprint. Hands in his back pockets, Ben strode across the dewy grass to join a huddle of men and boys, some of whom were already tossing a ball around. Carlie’s heart twisted as she watched the sunlight gleam against his dark hair and his face break into a smile as he spied his nephew.

  Ben was irrevocably tied to Randy, whether he knew it or not, and therefore tied to Tracy, as well. Carlie felt like a selfish fool for the jealousy that balled in her stomach. Randy needed him. More than she did.

  Swallowing back a lump in her throat, she watched. Ben stood out in the crowd of men wearing warm-up suits, baseball hats and league jackets. In his faded jeans, rumpled leather jacket, T-shirt and aviator glasses, he looked more like a stuntman for a Hollywood film than a father.

  Carlie couldn’t help but watch. A skinny kid with brown hair and an Oakland A’s cap ran up to Ben. Ben teased the boy and yanked off his hat to rumple his hair. The kid danced around him and made a big fuss over Attila, who barked and jumped like a puppy. Carlie’s heart cracked as she realized this should be her son—she and Ben should have had a child—a son or daughter—this very age.

  Other kids raced over to check out the dog. Bundled in sweatpants and sweatshirts, with major league caps on their heads and huge fielding gloves on their hands, the boys were laughing and talking and shoving each other, their faces red, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  One big lanky kid threw the dog a ball and the anxious shepherd took off at a sprint. Excited voices and peals of laughter floated on the morning breeze.

  Carlie felt numb inside. This was where Ben belonged. He glanced to the pickup and waved as he extracted himself from the group. She lifted her hand but he’d already turned away and helped sign the boy up at a table where mothers were sipping coffee while guarding application forms.

  One mom offered him coffee and a smile; another was all business, pointing to the registration forms. Other boys had already batted and pitched while judges in windbreakers and baseball caps watched their performance from bleachers that needed a new coat of paint.

  Tracy was there, too, wearing a baseball cap and hovering nearby and smiling up at Ben. It hit Carlie like a ton of bricks: she was the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. That thought made her stomach clench into a painful ball. Why wouldn’t she ever learn?

  Ben said something to Tracy and she laughed. Then Randy handed his uncle a ball and they started playing catch, Ben squatting like a catcher, Randy winding up to pitch.

  If only their own child had lived! Knowing that she had to leave before her raw emotions started to strangle her, Carlie hopped out of the truck and trudged across the wet grass. She would explain to Ben that she could walk back to the apartment. The hike was less than a mile and the exercise would do her some good. She could leave him here with his nephew—where he belonged—and she wouldn’t have to torture herself any longer.

  Randy was just getting ready to bat for the judges. Carlie was close enough to hear Ben talking to the boy.

  “Remember—eye on the ball,” Ben encouraged, his face as intense as if his own son were trying out. “Address the plate and don’t let that pitcher scare you.” Ben took off his glasses and gave the boy a wink.

  “I won’t.”

  “You can do it,” Tracy encouraged, straightening the boy’s sweatshirt. “You’re the best, honey.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Carlie see Randy’s back stiffen a little as he walked to the short line near the on-deck circle.

  “He’s just got to do well,” Tracy confided in Ben. She was so nervous, she was chewing on her polished nails. “Jerry Tienman is here and he’s the coach I want for Randy.”

  “Is he who Randy wants?”

  “Of course. Tienman is the best coach in the league and last year, over half his team became all-stars….” Her voice drifted off as she noticed Carlie approaching. A web of tiny lines formed between her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Carlie said, forcing a smile as she caught Ben’s attention. “But I’ve got to go.”

  Ben glanced from Carlie to the plate. “This’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Randy would really be disappointed if you left,” Tracy cut in, and Carlie felt like a heel.

  “Really. You stay here. It’s okay. I’ll just cut through the park. It’s only a few blocks.”

  Ben’s lips tightened. “Just hang in here, okay?”

  “Really—”

  His eyes found hers and for a moment the crowd of boys, Tracy, the dog and all the action at the plate seemed to stop. “Please, just a couple of minutes.”

  “Sure,” Carlie said, rather than cause a scene, and she knew in that instant that if she and Ben were to have any relationship at all, she would have to settle for coming in second. Whether he knew it or not, he was committed to his nephew. She saw it in his eyes.

  Tracy’s eyes narrowed a fraction before she turned and leaned against the wire backdrop. “Come on, slugger!” she yelled and again, Randy’s back tightened.

  The pitcher, a big, rangy boy, wound up and let loose. The ball streaked across the plate. Randy swung and fouled the ball over the backstop.

  “That’s good,” Ben encouraged. “You got a piece of it.”

  “Come on, honey!”

  Randy threw his mother a hard look over his shoulder. He twisted his feet, adjusting his stance, and stared back at the pitcher.

  The boy wound up. Another pitch. This one, right down the middle, hit the catcher’s glove with a thud. Randy hadn’t moved, not even swung.

  “Come on,” Ben said under his breath.

  “That one was good as gold,” Tracy said, with more than a trace of irritation. “You can do it, Randy!”

  The next pitch was high, clear over Randy’s head, and he swung wildly.

  “No!” Tracy yelled.

  “Hey, lady, put a lid on it,” one of the coaches said. “Let the kid do his thing.”

  “He’s my son.”

  “So lighten up.”

  Tracy looked as if she wanted to tear into the guy, but Ben grabbed her arm. “He’s right, Tracy.”

  Three more balls and three more misses. Carlie wished she could disappear.

  “I can’t believe it,” Tracy said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong! He’s usually so good.”

  “He is good,” Ben assured her. “His timing’s just a little off.”

  “But we’ve been to the batting cages, I’ve worked with him. Oh, God, if he doesn’t make Tienman’s team, he’ll be so disappointed.”

  “Will he?” Ben asked. “Or will you?”

  “He will! He wants to be the best!”

  “Next! Numb
er eighty-seven!” the coach yelled and Randy threw off his batting helmet and dropped his bat. His face was contorted and he was swearing under his breath.

  “Honey, what happened?” Tracy asked.

  “I screwed up!” He kicked at a clod of dirt with the toe of his baseball shoe and battled the urge to break down and cry.

  “You did fine,” Ben said, clapping him on the back. “That pitcher was really on. His curveball—”

  “—sucked! And so did I!”

  “Don’t talk that way, Randall,” Tracy said, her face flushing with color. “Pull yourself together. You’ve got to pitch next.”

  “Don’t want to.”

  “Oh, come on, honey. You know you love this.”

  “No, you love it!” He threw his mitt to the ground and stalked away, Tracy chasing after him, Attila romping as if it were all a game. Several kids watched him leave. “What a jerk,” one boy said around a wad of bubble gum.

  “Crybaby.”

  “He’s just having a rough day,” Ben told the kids.

  “Yeah, so what’s it to you?”

  “He’s my nephew.”

  “Well, then, your nephew is a jerk.”

  “Shut up, Billy!” a big, unshaven man said. “Warm up. You’re after this guy.”

  Grumbling, Billy and his friends wandered away.

  “I think I’d better stay,” Ben said to Carlie, casting a look behind the bleachers where it looked as if Tracy were reading her son the riot act.

  “I know,” she said. The boy needed him. It was as simple as that.

  “Tracy’s got some crazy notion that Randy’s got to be the best at everything he does.”

  Carlie managed a smile, though she felt like breaking down and crying. “You’ll fix things, Ben. I’ll walk home.” When he started to protest, she placed her palm against his face. “Go on, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

  “At least take Attila with you. I’ll pick him up in a little while.” He whistled for the dog, kissed her lightly on the cheek then took off at a jog, catching up with Randy and tossing his arm around the boy’s slim shoulders. Randy tried to pull away, but Ben kept up with him and Tracy managed to throw one look over her shoulder—a smug look of victory.