by Holly Jacobs
Unlike big cities, where a drive from town to county might take a significant amount of time, it wasn't fifteen minutes to get from the school to Daniel's, and he made even better time heading in to Erie because he was moving in the opposite direction of the after-work traffic.
"Hey, Dan?" Brandon asked from the back seat as they stopped for the red light at the Belle Valley fire station.
Brandon had insisted that Chloe didn't like riding by herself and had joined her, so Daniel was able to glance in the rearview mirror to see the boy. "Yes?"
"Can you tell me about my mom? About the two of you?"
"It will take more than just the five minutes we have left, but sure. Your mom was my best friend. I went to Penn State University, on the main campus in State College. It was a long way from home, and I missed my grandparents, and all my friends here in Erie. Your mom was working at a restaurant I went to, and one day I said something about home, and she asked where it was, and turns out, she was from Erie, too."
"She never liked it here, though," Brandon said.
Daniel noted Brandon's very serious expression.
"I don't think it was that she didn't like Erie, it's just your mom. . ." He tried to think of a description of Tara. "Your mom was a free spirit. She was so full of life, so filled with a sense of possibility. I don't know that there was any city anywhere that could have held on to her. She was always anxious to see what was around the next bend. She talked about leaving State College practically from the day I met her."
"But she stayed around."
"For a while. She helped me through losing my grandparents. She helped me figure out what I should do with my life. That's a gift, Brandon."
"But she left you. Just like she left all the other guys. She was always sure that her new guy was the one she was looking for, but he never was. Not even you." There was a maturity in Brandon's voice that didn't sound as if it belonged to a seventh-grader.
"Your mom and I were friends. Good friends. And I won't lie, it hurt when she left, but Bran, she never promised me she'd stay. I wasn't angry. Well, at least not for long. Your mom was who she was. Fighting that would be like fighting the wind. There's no sense to it. You can't stay angry at the wind."
"I'm angry that she never told me who my dad was," he admitted. "I used to worry that maybe she didn't want me to know because he wasn't a good guy, but you are. So, why wouldn't she tell me?"
"Maybe she wanted you to live with your aunt. Maybe she was afraid that I'd be mad that she didn't tell me about you. Sometimes I think maybe your mom was afraid of a lot of things."
"What do you mean?" Brandon asked.
When Daniel glanced back this time, the boy was hugging Chloe's head, running his hand through her thick coat.
"Maybe she never told me, never told you because she was afraid I'd insist on being a part of your life. . . ."
"And maybe she wanted to be everything to me?" Brandon asked. "That would make her selfish."
"Or afraid," Daniel pointed out gently. "Afraid she'd lose you."
"Maybe," he admitted. "It's hard to be mad at someone who's gone."
"Yeah, it is."
"Maybe I'll try not to be."
"Me, too." They pulled up at Michelle's. "We can talk more whenever you want. I have lots of stories about your mom. Like right after I met her, some guy at her table patted her rump and called her sweetheart, so she accidentally spilled a glass of water on his pants, and said, 'Oh, darling, I'm so sorry.' Rather than be mad, the guy started laughing, and left her a huge tip. That's how your mom was. She could do outrageous stuff, and people wouldn't get mad—"
"They'd tip her."
"Uh-huh."
Brandon opened the house door to the smell of spicy taco meat. Daniel followed him in, leaned down and removed Chloe's lead. She took off, running along the hallway, sniffing everything as she did.
"Oh, man, Dan, smell that? Aunt Shell's tacos are the best. Better than any restaurant's."
Daniel kicked off his shoes, and hung his coat up on a vacant hook. He followed Brandon toward the kitchen and realized he had a hi-honey-I'm-home feeling.
Thinking of the phrase reminded him of his grandparents. It's what his grandfather said every night when he came in from work. That's how the scene played out in Daniel's mind. His grandmother, stirring a huge pot, and his grandfather greeting her and lightly kissing her cheek.
As he walked into the kitchen, Chloe had hurried to the back door and was intent on sniffing what looked to be a pair of Brandon's boots. Michelle wasn't stirring anything. She was carrying a stack of plates to the table. She looked up and smiled as they entered. "Just in time."
Even though she wasn't at the stove, for a moment—just a split second—Daniel could almost imagine himself walking over to her and lightly kissing her cheek.
He shook the feeling off. It was ridiculous. Michelle Hamilton was a nice enough lady, but he'd only known her a little more than a week.
And yet, the feeling remained as the three of them shared another meal. Brandon regaled them with his day at school, and Michelle talked about a new client at work. Then they both focused on him, waiting for him to take a turn sharing his day.
How long had it been since someone had not only asked about his day but cared enough to listen? An enormous lump formed in Daniel's throat. He forced himself to talk around it, praying he sounded natural as he told them about the hundred-plus-year-old banister he was working on. "It's actually in great shape. There are only a couple posts that were damaged, and I'm going to replicate them in the shop."
They all cleaned the kitchen together, which didn't take long. "Homework, Bran," Michelle said.
"Can we take Chloe for a walk first? She likes to walk after dinner, right, Dan?"
"I'm sure she can wait—" he started.
But Michelle interrupted him. "I think Brandon can put his homework off for a bit longer if you two want to take Chloe for her after-dinner walk."
Daniel should have accepted her offer straight out. He knew it was another sign that she was learning to trust him with Brandon, and that thought warmed him. But instead of accepting it, he found himself asking, "Would you join us? I know it's cold, and you're probably tired after working, then the school. . ."
"I'd love to."
They bundled up in boots and heavy coats, then headed outside.
"You two lead the way," Daniel said. "I don't know the neighborhood that well."
"Why don't we walk to the playground and back," Brandon said.
"Sounds good," Michelle agreed.
It was one of those crisp, clear December nights. There weren't quite as many stars visible in the city as there were in his backyard, but there were enough. The moon was almost full, and looked huge on the horizon.
It was cold enough that he could see Brandon's breath as the boy said, "Dan was telling me about my mom on the drive home, Aunt Shell. Did you know she once spilled water on a guy on purpose 'cause he patted her butt?"
"No," Michelle said slowly. "I didn't, but that sounds like your mom."
"Can you tell us something else, Dan?" Brandon asked.
He tried to catch Michelle's eye to make sure it was okay with her. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, so he said, "Well, as I've said before, your mom had a big heart. There were these three kids who lived somewhere near the restaurant. They used to come in with hands filled with change, count it out and ask her what they could get for it. She'd told me about them long before I ever saw them, and she told me that they didn't look as if they had enough to eat. I was there the day she did it."
"Did what?" Brandon asked, hanging on Daniel's every word.
"She went to their table, and there was just a small pile of change on the edge. She smiled and told them to put it away. 'You all have won,' she told them. 'You're our ten thousandth table served, and that means tonight you win dinner on the house. So, let's start with an appetizer.'"
"Was there really a contest?" Brandon asked.
"She brought out salads and milk for all three kids. Then hamburgers and fries, and afterward, she served huge sundaes. I stayed the whole time and watched them, listened to them chatter excitedly that they'd won. Your mom gave them that. She spent her own money just because she thought they needed it more than she did. That was your mom. Generous."
"I didn't know that about my mom."
"Your mom had her faults, Brandon. Everyone does. But she had good qualities, too. You just remember those."
"Thanks, Dan."
They were all quiet after that. Three people, walking a dog after dinner on a moonlit December night.
And right at that moment, it was enough.
IT WAS NINE O'CLOCK. Daniel had stuck around after they walked the dog. He'd helped Brandon study for a social studies test, and then they'd all played a game of slapjack.
Brandon was too old to tuck in, but he'd come and kissed Michelle's cheek, then stood in front of Daniel, looking undecided about what to do.
Daniel solved Brandon's dilemma by patting his shoulder. "Thanks for a great night, Bran."
"You're welcome," he said, then darted up the stairs.
"I should probably go now." Daniel got up off the couch.
Michelle rose, as well. "Thanks for giving him that story about Tara. She left and was gone so many years. I can share stories from when we were little, but I didn't ever really have a chance to know her as an adult. I got the occasional call—her just checking on me—but she never shared anything of her life with me when I asked. She never even told me about Brandon."
Michelle had told him that before, but this time—maybe because he knew her better—he could hear the pain in her voice. "I'm sorry."
She added, "I'd have loved to know Brandon as a baby."
"Me, too." He'd tried to imagine what it would have been like if Tara had come to him and told him about Brandon. He'd have offered to marry her. Not just offered, he'd have wanted to. But try as he might, he couldn't imagine Tara would have been happy married to him.
"I tell myself I can't change the past, so I have to appreciate the present. Most of the time I remember, but sometimes?" She shrugged. "It hurts and I get mad all over again, then I feel guilty about being mad at her. She's gone. What can it accomplish?"
"Brandon and I talked about that in the car. He said it's hard to be mad at someone who's gone."
"He's right."
They were both still standing in front of the couch and Daniel realized he really had overstayed his welcome and needed to go, but he found it hard to leave. It wasn't just Brandon. It was Michelle. He liked spending time with her. "Well, I probably should go. Magellan's Place starts soon, and I'll confess, I'm addicted."
"Me, too. It's my favorite new show of the year." She glanced at her watch. "You'll never make it home in time. If you want, you can watch it here."
Daniel could tell her that he had a DVR and the show would be waiting for him when he got home. Instead, he simply said, "Thanks. That would be nice. It's been a long time since I had someone to share my love of geek TV with."
Magellan's Place was about Fred Magellan, an adventurer who'd traveled the world and ended up in Place, British Columbia, through a series of mishaps. Place was a sleepy small town with an eclectic, eccentric citizenship that was equal to its town's odd name. "Did you see the episode where Fred and Marshall get stranded. . . ?"
They spent the ten minutes before the show started talking about it, then settled back, side by side on the couch to watch it.
Daniel had missed the simple pleasure of sharing a favorite show with someone. The last time he'd enjoyed this was. . . He tried to remember. When he dated Kathryn? They'd both been head over heels for West Wing in its Shlamme and Sorkin days. But by the time the producers of the show had changed, they'd lost interest in both the show and each other.
When was that? Sometime in the early 2000s. Oh, he'd dated since, but he'd never had a relationship last long enough to develop a shared favorite show.
"You're quiet," Michelle said, during a commercial.
"Just thinking that it's been a long time since I had this," he admitted.
"This?"
"Someone to enjoy a show with after a long day. It's nice."
"Yes, it is." She seemed hesitant in the response.
"But?" he asked.
"But I don't know how comfortable the two of us should get with each other. I mean, our situation is complicated as it is."
"Well, unfortunately for you, then, I like you."
"I like you, too." She sounded less than pleased at the thought.
He laughed. "You don't have to sound so depressed about it."
"Like I said, our situation is complicated enough."
"Well, let's play it out. If the test results come back that I'm not Daniel's father, then you've both gained a friend, and if I am Daniel's father, then you and I liking each other will make my being a part of his life easier, wouldn't you think?"
"We haven't discussed just how you see yourself doing that. Being Brandon's father, if you are. How would you fit into his life?"
Daniel detected that this was a loaded question. "How do you see me fitting in?"
"I'm his legal guardian. I've raised him for the last five years. If you fought me for custody and won, I don't know what I'd do, but I'm pretty sure that would be the end of our liking each other."
"Do you really think I'd do something like that? That I'm here to tear you and Brandon apart?" He didn't even pause for her to reply. "Because I thought you were starting to trust me. I saw you letting Brandon come back to pick up Chloe with me as a sign that you were getting to know me. But I guess I was wrong."
Her words had cut at him because he wanted Michelle to trust him, to know him. It was important to him in a way that wasn't just about Brandon.
He stood.
She stood, as well, and grabbed his arm. "Daniel, I didn't mean—"
"What, Michelle?" His anger boiled to the surface. "Didn't mean to imply that I'm the kind of man who would rip the only stable home his son has ever known out from under him? Brandon told me something about how it was, moving around with Tara. He told me how much he loves knowing he'll sleep in his own bed, in his own room each night. You gave him that. Do you really think I'm the kind of man who would try to worm his way into your good graces just so I can sue you for custody later and take him from you?"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implied. . ." She paused. "Daniel, even though I do like you and I do trust you with Brandon, the truth is we've only known each other a short time. I don't think you would ever try to rip Brandon away from me, but can you really blame me for worrying? I've trusted people in the past, and had them let me down. I know I can't let those times color the rest of my life, but it's hard. The heart's not as resilient as the head thinks it should be."
He wanted to stay mad at her, but he knew if Brandon was his and someone came into his life, he'd be as cautious as Michelle. "You're right. I'd worry if the tables were turned. And to be honest, I haven't figured out how you and I will make it work, but we'll do it together. We both want what's best for Brandon. We're both reasonable people. And since we both love Magellan's Place, we obviously have a great deal of taste and insight."
She smiled at that, which had been his intent. "I still maintain liking each other isn't another complication. And even if it is, I can't just stop liking you because you think it would be more convenient."
"Me, either." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, just the slightest peck. "You're very easy to like, Daniel McLean, darn it all."
He smiled and leaned down and kissed her on the cheek as well. "You, too, Michelle Hamilton."
Two platonic cheek kisses.
That's all they'd been.
/> Just two small busses that were less than a European double-cheek greeting by half. That's all there should have been.
But it wasn't.
That slight contact lit an attraction for Michelle that Daniel hadn't realized was there. He'd known he liked her. Realized that she was a pretty lady. But he hadn't realized there was more to it than that until now.
He leaned down to kiss her again, nothing impersonal at all about it this time. As a matter of fact, this kiss was as personal as he could make it. His lips against hers, soft and pliant. The kiss grew deeper, with Michelle participating wholeheartedly. Then, abruptly, she pulled back. "Daniel, we—"
He didn't want to let her go, but he did. He moved back a step and sighed. "I know, I know. Complications and all that."
She shot him a rueful smile. "Yes."
"Fine. We won't. But there's something between us, Michelle. Something that seems to be growing at a rapid pace."
"Something we can't afford to let continue," she said softly. "Maybe you should go." She took half a step as if to herd him toward the front door.
He didn't budge. "If I sit back down on the far end of the couch and promise to keep a whole cushion between us, could I stay until the end of Magellan's Place? You wouldn't want me to miss any."
"Fine. You stay on your end, I'll stay on mine." She sat as close to the end of the couch as she could get and not be sitting on the arm. "If Chloe wasn't in sleeping with Brandon, I'd put her on the middle cushion."
"Because you can't trust yourself. Yes, I know, I have that effect on women. I try not to, but. . ." he teased and sat, as well.
The teasing lightened the mood a bit, as the commercial ended and Fred Magellan was back on the small screen. From all appearances, Michelle had forgotten all about their kiss and fallen back into the show.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy for Daniel.
He was pretty sure he wouldn't be forgetting that particular kiss for some time to come.
When the show's credits rolled, and scenes from next week's episode came on, Daniel stood up. "I should really go this time. It feels like I've been standing next to this couch and saying that all night."