All That You Are

by Stef Ann Holm

  With his hair freshly cut but his jaw unshaven, Cooper folded his arms over his chest. “FYI, Dana—I can do what I want in my own house.”

  “Not technically,” she corrected with a twisted smile. “Not when Terran is staying with you—which I still find surprising because you didn’t want him around when he was a baby.”

  Her anger caused her to say something she shouldn’t have. He had been good to their son, and had added a dimension to his life that had been missing. She supposed a part of her would always be wounded that Cooper hadn’t even come to the hospital when she’d given birth. He had been so freaked out about her pregnancy, he’d detached himself from her and their son for nearly two years.

  Even so, her taunt was unfair, and she owed him an apology for it. But she didn’t get the chance to say anything further.

  Belligerence fell across Cooper’s features as he informed her, “I’m a damn good father and you know it. That little boy loves me.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I know I started out wrong, but I’ve made up for it. How many times are you going to throw something in my face, Dana? Son of a bitch, get over it.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. Terran loves you—” she licked her dry lips “—but that still doesn’t make it right when you have Tori spend the night.”

  “She only did it that one time. She had too much to drink and I wouldn’t let her drive home.”

  Dana snapped, “Did she sleep in your bed?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a huge difference. Terran shouldn’t be exposed to stuff like this. His mommy and daddy should live together, share a life, and a house—but he doesn’t have that so we’ve got to give him as normal a life as possible.”

  “You can share my bed whenever you want.” A sly smirk tugged at his full mouth.

  The blood pulsing through her veins slowed and her throat thickened, making it difficult to swallow. She tried to make sense over what had just transpired.

  This wasn’t like Cooper. He didn’t make suggestive comments to her. Not anymore. Nor did he pretend to still find her attractive or intimate a desire to rekindle their relationship. His provocative words were out of left field, and she chose to ignore them.

  Cooper broke the tension. “Oh, come on, Dana, it’s not like I’m seriously dating Tori. We have fun together. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal to our son when he asks me if I can sleep over, too.”

  Shifting his weight on his feet, he asked in a light tone, “Can you?”

  Car keys in hand, she shook her head with annoyance. “I’m leaving now.”

  “Dana, wait.” Cooper touched her shoulder as she turned to head for her truck. “I shouldn’t be messing with you.”

  “Cooper, you messed with me for two years when you didn’t want to see Terran.”

  “And haven’t I said I was sorry, like, a hundred times? I was scared to be a dad.” His eyes expressed a sincerity that came from the depth of his heart. Truth about his feelings didn’t come easily for Cooper, but she recognized it now. He truly meant what he’d said. “I love my son more than anything. And I’d do anything for him.”

  “I know that.”

  “So, Dana, I want to ask you something important.” His hands reached for hers and she stiffened, but allowed him the liberty. “I’ve been thinking for a long time about this….”

  Dread filled Dana like a cold claw scratching her heart.

  Cooper was going to say he was petitioning the court for full custody—she felt it deep in the marrow of her bones.

  She’d never allow that. Ever.

  “And even Terran mentioned it the other day.” Cooper’s voice intruded into her private hell.

  “Terran asked you…?” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  “Did he ask you, too?”

  Suddenly she wasn’t sure about anything. “Ask me what?”

  “If he could have my last name.”

  Relief rushed through every pore of her body.

  Cooper went on in a monotone that she vaguely heard. “He’s starting school soon and he doesn’t understand why he’s a J and not a B. I explained to him that we weren’t married when you had him. He knew what I meant—kind of. He said that we could fix it now if he got to be called Terran Boyd.”

  Her ex stood before her, his hazel eyes filled with hope. Part of her wanted to say okay, sure, because Cooper had such a vulnerable expectation swimming in his gaze.

  But it wasn’t simple.

  And the legal description on her son’s birth certificate wasn’t up for negotiation.

  Terran bore the family name, the last line in her family tree to carry on the Jackson name. She couldn’t take that away from her mom or her dad. Or her brother, Terrance.

  “Cooper, I understand this has caused Terran some confusion, but he has to deal with the reality.”

  “But it’s your reality. I want him to be Boyd. So does he.”

  Quietly, Dana replied, “I don’t think he really knows, Cooper. He just wants us to be a family.”

  And with those words, a tear slipped down her cheek. She hadn’t even been aware of them filling her eyes and clouding her vision. She had to get out of here before she lost it.

  Times like these, life’s complexities were just too damn overwhelming.

  OBSERVANT AND INTERESTED in the goings-on around her, Suni occupied a plastic lawn chair in their garage with Dana sitting beside her. They watched Mark stack plywood sheets and measure lengths of wood to cut for Terran’s skateboard ramp.

  A cursory glance at her daughter confirmed Suni’s suspicions. Everything Suni could claim as true was written in Dana’s features. Her daughter’s gaze constantly tracked Mark’s steady movements.

  Danalee’s energy was both emotionally and physically in sync with the carpenter. She’d aligned her heart with his, much as he’d lined up lumber on the garage floor. Only Dana wouldn’t admit such a failing—for she’d see her attraction as that.

  Growing close to a man after all the pain she’d gone through with her father and brother’s deaths, then the ordeal with Cooper, wasn’t something Dana actively sought.

  In her wisdom, Suni had known the day would come when Dana would find someone. She hadn’t wished for a stream of men in and out of her grandson’s life, and thankfully Dana was not the type of mother to expose him to such things.

  With running the bar and taking care of Terran, Dana hadn’t allowed romantic notions into her thoughts—at least none that she’d told Suni. Dana had more common sense now than to lose herself in love without seriously thinking things through.

  But the truth, such as it was, still made Dana living the rest of her life alone quite unrealistic.

  Dana was lovely and young herself, and Suni was reconciled to her wanting a family of her own, a house to call hers and a husband to share her bed and entwine her mind. While Dana wouldn’t discuss such dreams, Suni knew every woman wanted to love and be loved.

  “Can you hand me those sixteen-penny nails?” Mark asked as he moved to gather two-by-fours.

  “I’m not sure what those are,” Dana replied, rising to her feet. She nosed through the supplies in plastic bags that he’d brought over.

  Leaning across a sheet of plywood with his measuring tape and a pencil in hand, he said, “The boxes are marked.”

  Dana found what he needed and handed him the nails.

  Suni inched forward in her chair to check what Mark was doing with a keen eye. She caught her reflection in a mirror that leaned against the inside of the garage.

  Once belonging to the bedroom set she and Oscar shared, the mirror had cracked when she’d moved the dresser to get a necklace of hers that had fallen behind it.

  She saw herself as she was. Her blunt-cut black hair rested on her shoulders, her cheeks brushed with beige-pink—the only makeup she wore. For a woman her age, she admitted she had a timeless appeal. Both classically Anglo, yet with Chinese features chiseled in
her nose and the almond shape of her eyes.

  What would a man her age ever think of her…?

  Unlike Dana, she would never know. By choice, she had no desire to ever be one with another.

  “Your mother told me you built her a birdhouse when you were sixteen and in high school wood shop.” Suni’s comment brought a faint smile to Mark as if he remembered that birdhouse.

  “Mom,” Dana said in a slow enunciation, as it to warn, Don’t let him know you and his mother talked about him.

  Dana’s hidden message wasn’t necessary. Too late for caution, Suni already had her pressing questions answered by Mariangela. Suni looked forward to the other woman’s e-mails on a daily basis, writing her back with stories of her own life. Mark had been right. She and Mariangela indeed had commonalities.

  “It’s not a problem, Dana,” Mark said with an easygoing tone. “I told her to ask my mom anything she wanted about me.”

  Dana’s brows slightly arched, although why, Suni wasn’t sure. She’d mentioned to Dana that she’d been corresponding with Mrs. Moretti.

  Crouching, Mark wrote notations on a wood scrap, then stood. The sound of his tool belt filled the small space, the metal of a hammer and other such things that hung from the leather. “Suni, I’ve built a lot of things.”

  Suni inquired politely, “How do you know how to do it without a pattern? I’ve sewn clothing before and without the tissue to lay on the fabric, I wouldn’t have known which way to cut.”

  Mark swung one of the plywood sheets onto the sawhorses he’d snagged from the Blue Note renovation. “I guess I’ve used wood so much in my life, I just know how it all goes together. And I watched my dad build the same ramp for me in my garage. Only this one will be smaller.”

  “What kind of skateboard do I get him?” Dana sat back down. “I’ve seen a bunch at Wal-Mart. He’d like the one with the Spiderman decals.”

  Suni would have had to be blind as a hundred-year-old woman not to notice the way Dana furtively moved and spoke. Deliberate actions caused reactions and Dana wanted Mark to react to her—even if she hadn’t realized it.

  Mark tucked the measuring tape into a pocket on his leather belt. “No superheros. You can’t skimp on the board—he’ll hurt himself on a cheap one. The quality sold at a toy store is garbage. The wheels are constructed from poor material. The trucks are weak and the bearings freeze or the board breaks.” He took a step over to plug a saw into a power cord. “Besides, I already ordered him an Element online. It’s coming by two-day air.”

  “That was kind of you,” Suni said before Dana could protest. In her pride, she would have cut off her nose to spite herself.

  Mariangela had sung praises for her son’s generosity. She said his reliability toward the family couldn’t be matched. They called on him to help when something needed repair. He’d drywalled his brother’s basement after a plumbing flood, wired new lighting in his sister’s house and built a deck for Mariangela.

  “I’ve never heard of them,” Dana replied.

  And that wasn’t the only thing she obviously appreciated. Suni noted Dana’s eyes drinking in the curve of Mark’s taut behind in his jeans. The man did have a strong physical appeal, and Dana tried to keep her interest concealed. It didn’t work. Suni easily caught on to her.

  Mark finished marking the two-by-fours and stood. “Element’s been around for a long time. They make one of the higher-quality boards. They don’t have Spiderman—” he grinned “—but their graphic style rocks with crisp imagery and colors.”

  “Sounds expensive,” Dana interjected, taking a sip from a can of cola. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Dana, you don’t ask a man that.” Suni turned slightly toward her daughter. “Just say thank-you.”

  Looking pained, Dana murmured, “Um, thanks.”

  Then on a whim, Suni opted to reveal something about her daughter to Mark—as repayment for the tidbits Mariangela had shared.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that my daughter isn’t one to ask for help. Because of that, she hasn’t practiced her thank-yous like I taught her when she was a little girl.” With a softness to her mouth, Suni added honestly, “But she’s appreciated everything you’ve done. She told me so.”

  “Mom, I’ll talk to you later,” Dana replied, her face set with a stubborn frown.

  Suni merely smiled, taking her daughter’s warning in stride as she put an arm around her and gave her a side hug. “Beloved mine, do not criticize the heart of help.”

  “Tell you what, Dana,” Mark said, looking away from his jigsaw, “you can buy him a helmet, elbow and knee pads.”

  “Of course.”

  Thick black hair fell on Mark’s forehead as he reached forward to engage the saw in position. Eyes down, he added without looking up, “You know Terran’s going to wipe out. Don’t be chasing after him with a box of Band-Aids.”

  “A Band-Aid won’t fix a broken arm,” Dana replied. Then to Suni she added, “Mark broke his arm on his.”

  The dangerous angle of this ramp had crossed Suni’s mind, but she’d not thought that far ahead. Too interested in watching Mark and her daughter together, she said, “And we’re letting him build one for Terran?”

  “Mom, half the kids on the hockey team have had a limb wrapped in plaster at one time or another. And remember when Jeremy got his front tooth knocked in and he swallowed it? If he hadn’t thrown up on the ice, the Tooth Fairy wouldn’t have come for a visit.”

  Suni gave a darting glance to Dana. “Bad karma.”

  Mark’s laughter pulled Suni’s attention. His face had a cheerful look marked with sincerity. “The two of you amuse me. You remind me of my mom and sister.” Then before squeezing the jigsaw’s trigger, he cautioned, “This is going to be loud.”

  As Mark ripped a cut through the wood, Dana’s eyes never left him. Her gaze caressed the flex of his upper arm, his body, the way he crouched on the garage floor, the strong line of his legs.

  Suni noticed that for the first time in forever, Dana seemed happy or at the very least, content. Mark had been good for her. Suni’s admission surprised even herself. She’d never thought she would find favor in a man entering her daughter’s life. If only—

  Shaking her head, Suni let her thoughts dissipate in a vapor. Idealizing the facts was fruitless.

  Mark Moretti would be leaving in just over two weeks.

  COMPLETING AS MUCH as he could on the ramp tonight, Mark called it quits. He still had to soak the plywood pieces for about an hour in order to make them flexible enough to nail on the quarter curve framework. Dana had suggested using Terran’s plastic pool for this. She retrieved it from the yard. It would work great.

  “Can I get you a beer?” Dana offered, reaching for the white refrigerator in the garage.

  “Sure.” He sat in the chair Suni had vacated about an hour ago when she’d retired to the house.

  Slapping sawdust off his jeans, Mark gazed into the near-black night through the open garage door. The evening held some warmth to it, but not much. Lights in the garage’s interior beamed a pale yellow into the space. They were fluorescents, not single bulbs. The one on the end was burning out, its four-foot tube intermittently flickering.

  The street in front of Dana’s house was quiet—the homes across the street were invisible—tree silhouettes fringed the sky, and in the distance, winking bright stars. Mark could smell the woods and the flowers drifting on the air. Alaska nights always smelled so clean.

  Dana handed him a bottle of beer and he twisted the cap. She sat next to him, crossing her legs. She had on sweats and a T-shirt, simple clothing that looked enticing on her. She was so beautiful he could hardly keep from pulling her onto his lap.

  Her hair fell about her shoulders in loose curls that framed her face and cascaded to the middle of her back. When she wore it like this, he imagined her just getting out of bed with sleep-tumbled hair. She gave him a fleeting smile, then stared out the garage, too.

  “No r
ain again,” he commented. “You kind of get used to it and then it’s gone and you forget how much you like it when it’s not coming down.”

  Dana’s words filled the quiet night. “Rain is a funny thing. It breeds readers, musicians or drug addicts.”

  Mark held on to a laugh, but grinned. “I guess that’s one way to sum things up.”

  “Rain’s just a part of Ketchikan. Like salmon dip’s a part of every party or event in town.”

  “Is that right, sunshine? You make it?”

  She grimaced. “I hate salmon dip.”

  “But you like salmon.”

  “Go figure. Sometimes things just don’t make sense but that’s the way they are.” As she spoke, he got the feeling she was thinking about something other than a party spread. Maybe him and her and the relationship they’d formed.

  Mark had never met a woman he’d started out with as friends, then grown to admire, respect and more than likely, love. If he could be totally honest with himself, he’d admit that he was falling in love with Dana. But he saved that thought for another time. He usually went in with full-torpedo charm, setting out to win a woman over; it ended up in bed, both of them satisfied, then bored with the pursuit. Chase and capture. Conquest. No sense in continuing.

  But Mark hadn’t felt like that around Dana Jackson. Quite the opposite. He’d taken more time with her, done more to help her life along, and had more conversations with her, than any women in his past.

  One flicker of the overhead light, the span in the middle of the long tube turned to ash-gray. The two ends glowed like the cherry of a burning cigarette.

  Mark mused, “I’ll change that light for you.”

  “I can do it. It’s just a bulb.”

  “It’s not. That ballast just died.”

  “What’s that?”