by Bonnie Tharp
Regina’s heart softened, feeling glad she hadn’t been in either Tom’s or Peggy’s positions, then or now.
Good question. What would she do indeed?
“I can’t answer that, sweetie. But if you want to talk to him, either your Gram or I will gladly go with you.”
Peggy straightened. “Really?”
“Of course, you’re not in this alone.”
“Okay, I might want to talk with Dad first, without the other kids, to get a feel for where his head is at.”
“Whenever you decide is fine.”
Although Regina felt nothing but turmoil, years of hiding her true feelings from her mother and her wayward husband had perfected a mask of cool detachment. It might be a good idea for her to go ahead and ask Sam to check into Tom Malone’s whereabouts the past decade after all. She picked up an old drawing pad, flipping pages until she found a blank one she could use. She grabbed a pencil and an eraser, putting her arm around Peggy.
“Let’s get back downstairs. Megan would love a drawing of that stupid cat.”
Peggy opened the door as Regina doused the light.
So much for a peaceful and relaxing Sunday . . .
Sometime in the middle of the night the ringing of the phone woke Regina. Her heart clutched with fear. Her icy hands gripped the phone.
“Hello.”
“You can’t keep me from my kids.” Tom’s words were slurred. Regina wasn’t sure she had understood.
“What? Are you going to start calling all hours of the day and night?”
“What else is there to do? Regina, I need my kids.”
“What did you say?”
“Why can’t I see my kids?” He sounded desperate.
“Why do you want to see your kids when for ten years you didn’t care?”
“I never stopped caring. You don’t understand.” Tom hung up.
She replaced the receiver. Regina shook her head. He’d hung up before she could tell him that Peggy was ready to talk.
He’s getting frustrated and angry. I can’t really blame him. But he has some things to answer for, and it’s past time he did.
Chapter 17
MONDAY AFTERNOON, the phone rang twice before Annabelle could pick it up. She half feared who might be on the other end.
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Hubbard?” a man asked.
“Yes.” Annabelle didn’t recognize the voice.
“I’m calling about Tad Malone. Are you his grandmother?”
“Yes.” She clenched the receiver. “Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, just some trouble at school. Fighting.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m sorry. I’m the assistant coach, Phillip Edwards.”
“Is he hurt, Mr. Edwards?” She grabbed the front of her blouse in her fist.
“Nah. Just some bruises and not much blood. The other boy is going to be fine. Bloody nose is all. Tad may have a shiner by tonight.”
She relaxed her grip and smoothed the fabric. “I’ll come and get him as soon as the girls get home from school.”
“No need. I can drop him off. You live in Riverside, right? South of the castle?”
“That’s right. I remember you from the games. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it.” Annabelle saw a blurry picture in her mind of a stocky man with no hair.
“No trouble. I live close by, over on Coolidge.”
Detecting a slight southern accent, she smiled. “Well, thank you, Mr. Edwards.”
“We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, again.” Annabelle hung up the phone. She remembered he had a huge smile. The day she noticed him, the boys had lost the game by two points. He had been gruff but supportive with the boys. She’d liked what she’d seen and felt at the time, sort of “interested.”
The girls came through the door giggling.
“Hi, Gram,” Megan said. “Sam picked me up from school, but I wanted to walk home from the corner with Peg, so he dropped me off. He said something about an errand.”
“How’s it going?” Peggy asked before slinging her backpack over the chair.
“I’m not sure right now.” Annabelle frowned.
“Isn’t Tad at basketball?” Sitting down at the table, she faced her grandmother.
“He’s on his way home.”
“Why so soon? That was a short practice.”
“Are there any cookies?” Megan hop-stepped her way toward the kitchen.
“Yes, but don’t eat too many. Save room for supper.”
Peggy and Annabelle watched the little girl reach down in the belly of the cookie jar.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into that boy lately.” Annabelle tugged at her blouse hem.
“Sounds like he’s in trouble. I wanted all of us to be good for you.” Peggy’s mouth was a thin line across her slender face.
“I know, honey, but he’s been fighting.”
“He can be a real hot head sometimes.” Crossing to the refrigerator, Peggy retrieved a soda.
“I think he’s still mad about Tom.” Megan had to push two cookies in her mouth before she could use her crutches to get to the table and sit down.
Unconsciously, Annabelle tugged at her sleeve. “Whatever the reason, he can’t hit people. It never solves anything.”
Grabbing a cookie, Peggy poured milk for her little sister then sat back down. “He’s just mixed up about Dad and everything.”
Shaking her head, Annabelle said, “I know. Coach is bringing him home. When he gets here, would you all go upstairs? I’d like to speak with his coach alone.”
“Sure.”
The girls finished their snack. Peggy carried the backpacks to their room while Megan followed behind.
Annabelle paced the parlor until she heard the car pull into the drive. She waited with the front door open while Tad and Coach Edwards got out. The coach had a long stride and showed her a mouth full of white teeth when he smiled at her.
“Mrs. Hubbard? Phil Edwards.” He saluted her and ascended the porch steps.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Edwards.”
Tad hung back, chin on his chest.
“Go upstairs and take a shower, Tad. I’d like to have a talk with your coach.”
“Okay.” He didn’t lift his head.
Intercepting Tad as he passed through the doorway, Annabelle lifted his chin. “Yes, it looks like you’ll have a shiner.”
Tad blushed. “Josh started it. I wasn’t going to take any of his crap.” His eyes darted to his grandmother, then quickly down. “I mean . . . yes, ma’am.”
She scowled then kissed his cheek before he climbed the stairs without looking back.
“Excuse my manners. Won’t you come in, Mr. Edwards?”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
Annabelle led him into the parlor, feeling the warmth of his gaze. “Have a seat. Would you like tea?”
Looking around the room, he scowled and waved his hand. “No, I’m fine. You know, you really need to take a firm hand with boys.” He sat in the chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
“Excuse me?”
Puffing out his chest, he sat up straighter. “I’ve been working with boys for forty-some years, and I know how handle them. Women are just too soft.”
What an arrogant man.
Fisting her hand in her skirt, Annabelle took a deep cleansing breath.
“Do you know what started the fight?”
“Not really. Tad’s had a short fuse lately. It doesn’t seem to take much to set him off. He usually limits it to shoving, but today, it came to blows.”
“Does Tad usually start it?
”
“Sometimes, but he’s a good kid. I think he’s got something bothering him right now. Do you have any idea what that might be?”
It’s none of his business, the nosey old—
Annabelle slipped a tissue into her palm to give herself something besides his thick neck to strangle. “The kids lost their mother last year.”
“Where’s their father?”
He didn’t even extend the courtesy of saying he was sorry for our loss. The nerve—
Struggling not to grab him and shake him, Annabelle cleared her throat. “Are you sure you don’t want some coffee or tea, maybe?” She half rose from her seat.
Mr. Edwards leaned toward Annabelle. “No, ma’am, I’m just fine, but I can see by the color in your cheeks that I’ve overstepped my bounds. I’m right sorry.”
“There’s a lot going on around here. I’m sure you read about Tad’s little sister being hit by a car?”
“Why, of course. Margaret Malone is Tad’s sister?”
Her nose rose as did the tone of her voice. “Megan Malone.”
“Pardon me.” His voice stilted.
The old goat. He didn’t even ask how she’s doing. He may sound like a southern gentleman but he obviously isn’t one.
“Broke her leg, if I recall. I wouldn’t worry. Kids mend pretty fast.”
“Yes, luckily they do.”
“That still doesn’t explain Tad’s anger.”
Annabelle straightened her spine. “Tad acts like he’s responsible, but he’s not. And the rest is none of your business.”
She flexed her fingers.
“My, well, I hear you all have had more than your share of troubles. Who’d you piss off in heaven?”
Of all the . . . I can’t believe this stuffed bull.
Tears building along with her anger, Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut to keep them back. She didn’t trust her voice or the color that must be continuing to rise in her overheated face.
Mr. Edwards leaned back in the chair. “I’ve seen a lot of boys with troubles in my sixty-nine years. Most of them turn out just fine.”
Most . . . of them? Oh great.
Annabelle willed her body to calm. “We may need to pull him out of basketball until things settle down.”
“No, don’t do that. The exercise should help him work through things. I’ll talk with Coach Barnes.”
“I thought you were his coach.” A new surge of anger infused her.
“I’m the assistant coach. I only work part-time. I’m technically retired and just help out at the school because they’re short staffed. Keeps me busy and in shape.”
He patted his flat stomach and Annabelle ground her teeth. The sunlight glared off the top of his domed head.
I need sunglasses. This man will make me blind as well as mad as a scorched calf.
“I’m sure the boys and the school are very grateful for your help.”
How do I get him out of here?
“I’m sure they are. I taught history and coached before I retired. After my wife died, I had to do something with my time. No more honey-do lists.” He flashed his bright smile at her, but Annabelle wasn’t charmed at all. “Coaching’s just what I needed.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife.” Annabelle stood. “I know what you mean about kids. My three are a handful.”
He looked her up and down.
It is definitely time for you to go, mister.
She extended her hand for him to shake.
“I’m sure you do just fine with them.” He gently shook her warm hand. A shock of electricity arched between their joined hands.
“Well. Thank you again for bringing Tad home. I’m sorry about all the trouble.”
He made a slight bow. “Don’t you worry your pretty head, ma’am.”
Pretty head . . . condescending jerk. I’m getting a headache and my teeth hurt.
She escorted him to the front door and watched as he got into his car and drove away. Her body felt tired, like she’d run a marathon.
Anger’s hard on you.
Pulling herself up the stairs by the banister to Tad’s room, she wiped her face with her hands and knocked. When he didn’t answer, she opened it, stepping across the threshold.
“Tad. We need to talk.”
On top of the covers, Tad hugged a pillow against is chest. “About what? It’s no big deal.”
Her hands rested on her hips. “I’d say a black eye and a bloody nose are a pretty good-sized deal.”
“Ah, sorry, Gram. I just got really pis . . . mad.”
She crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed. “Why?”
“Josh got carried away on the court, elbowing and bumping and stuff.”
“Isn’t that normal in basketball?” She watched his brown cheeks turn burnt orange.
“I suppose, but he . . .”
Her soft voice interrupted him. “Got carried away?”
“Yeah.” He wouldn’t look into her eyes.
“Sounds like you might’ve gotten a little carried away yourself.” She laid her hand on his and noticed how much longer his fingers were than hers.
“Maybe I shouldn’t be playing ball right now.” He looked into her eyes for the first time since he’d come home.
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Oh. Why is that?”
“I could meet Megan’s bus and walk her and Peggy home from school. She’d be safe with me.” He sat up straighter.
Good grief.
“I’m sure she would, but don’t you think she needs to learn to be independent?”
“She’s just a little girl, Gram. She shouldn’t have to be scared of cars and stuff.” He hit the pillow with his fist.
“You’re right, but we can’t be with her every minute. She has to learn to be on her own once in a while. Walking home from the bus is a big thing for a ten-year-old. I’ve started watching from the porch and I think Joe watches from his house, too. We’ve got it covered, honey. Honestly.” She gave his hand a squeeze. They were growing as fast as his feet. She thought he might be as tall as their friend Joe when Tad reached adulthood.
The boy sat silent, looking at their entwined hands.
“If she wants me to walk her home, I’ll quit basketball tomorrow.”
“She knows that, honey. But I’m thinking that you’re trying to avoid going back and facing your friends.”
“You think?” He looked into her eyes then began fidgeting once more.
“But you are going back to finish the season, or whatever they call it. And no more fighting.” She let go of his hand.
“Okay. Hey, what did you think of Coach Edwards?”
“He’s . . .” She didn’t want to use the words that best described what she thought. “He’s very fit for a man his age.”
“He’s pretty cool for an old guy.” Tad ducked his head.
“He’s not much older than me.”
“You are kinda old, but kinda cool, too. And well preserved.” He tossed his pillow at the headboard and grinned at her.
Laughing, Annabelle said, “Thank you, I think. Let’s go put ice on that eye before it swells any more.”
“Is there any cake left?”
“I think so.”
He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard squeeze.
“I love you, Tad,” Annabelle whispered in his ear.
His cheeks and the tops of his ears turned red, but he smiled.
When they opened the door, they found a sniffling Megan and Ms. Pickles leaning against the jamb.
“Hey, squirt. Were you listening?” Tad ruffled her hair.
“Yes.” Megan’s big brown eyes looked sad. “Please don’t quit basketball because of me.
”
“Oh, dear.” Annabelle removed the tissue from her pocket and wiped the tears from Megan’s cheeks.
“Now don’t start blubbering,” Tad said. “I’m not quitting, but . . .”
“No buts, Tadpole.” Megan sniffed.
He grinned. “If you ever need me, you know I’ll be there, don’t you?”
“You’re the best big brother I could ever have.” Megan took his hand. He pulled her into a one-armed embrace, dumping a crutch next to Ms. Pickles.
“Meow.”
“Sorry, cat.” Tad turned to his little sister. “Did you eat all the cake?”
“No. I saved you some, but I think I’ll change my mind since you called me squirt.”
He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder, starting down the stairs.
“We’ll see about that.” Her body bounced against his back.
“Whoa.” Megan giggled. “I’m gonna throw up!”
“Tad. Slow down, please.” Annabelle picked up the discarded crutches.
He turned and smiled at his grandmother then proceeded at a slightly more normal pace.
Annabelle’s heart melted. “We are truly blessed.” She followed in their wake; calling to them, “Don’t spoil your dinner!”
She heard the key in the lock before she noticed the tall silhouette in the glass.
I wonder who that could be?
The door opened and a tall woman with chin length, salt-and-pepper colored hair stepped into the entryway.
“Regina?” Annabelle’s hand covered her gaping mouth. “Where’s your hair?”
Her cousin smiled. “Hello to you, too. Close your mouth, Annabelle. You’ll catch flies.”
“Oh, my.” Annabelle sat down on the stairs.
I’ve had enough surprises . . .
“Thanks, I like it, too.” Regina fluffed it with her hand. “I’m amazed at how light it feels. Are there any snacks? I skipped breakfast.” She glided across the foyer and out of sight before Annabelle could respond.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Annabelle spoke to the now-empty space.
Chapter 18
REGINA’S THOUGHTS wandered as she put the Sunday dinner dishes into the dishwasher. Another week had gone by and the household had re-established a routine.