“I’ve gotta go. I’ll finish up later.”
“Jackson,” she said softly, just this once touching him because he obviously needed consoling. She started by skimming his back, then eased her hands around his waist, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. “I really am sorry if I hit a nerve. What can I say? I aced all my psych classes.”
“Then you must’ve cheated, because none of that crap you just spouted was true.” Spinning to face her, he said, “Just because my mom does a few loads of clothes for me doesn’t make me less a man.”
“Of course, it doesn’t. Isn’t that what I just said?”
He started off the porch, but she snagged his arm. “Please, don’t leave. At least stay and have a quick coffee.” Don’t make me worry all day about having royally ticked off my best friend. How their friendship had come about so quickly, she couldn’t fathom. But now that she had Jackson in her life, she didn’t want him to go.
That muscle kept ticking in his jaw. Medical books had taught her a ticking nerve was a sign of pent-up stress being released. Technically, it was a good thing. Healthy. However, knowing she was the cause of his stress sucked.
“I guess I could have coffee,” he grumbled. “But no more talk about my mother.”
“Agreed.”
“Or Julie.”
He didn’t have to twist her arm on that one.
“MR. TATE, CAN YOU please pass the sugar?” Owen held out his chubby fingers, impatiently pinching.
“Here you go, but don’t you think you’ve got enough?” The kid had already doused his Corn Flakes with three or four teaspoons.
“Nope,” Owen said through a mouthful of cereal, dribbling milk down his chin.
Jackson passed him a napkin.
“Thanks.”
Oliver slid into the vacant seat beside his brother. “How come you’re here?” he asked their guest.
Jackson cringed. At the moment, seeing how Ella had abandoned him with her young—including Rose who wasn’t too happy about being in her swing—he was asking himself the same question. How long did it take a woman to grab a so-called quick shower? “I was fixing the screen door, but your mom asked me in for coffee.”
“I thought you were getting married,” Oliver asked, pouring so much milk in his cereal bowl that it sloshed over the side.
Jackson dabbed the mess with a handful of napkins he’d grabbed from a holder in the table’s center. “Isn’t it time for you two to head off to school?”
“The carpool doesn’t come for another five minutes,” Owen informed him.
“Yeah,” Oliver said, digging into his cereal with the spoon in his left hand and scooping on sugar with his right. “So? Are you getting married?”
“I’m…ah…not sure,” Jackson said, telling the truth, eyeing his lukewarm coffee.
“Dillon says you are.”
Dillon has a big mouth. “Tell you what, soon as I find out if I’m getting married, or not, I’ll let you know.”
“If you are getting married,” Owen said, drinking his leftover milk from the side of his bowl, “how come you’re all the time hanging around our mom?”
“Does it bother you that I’m here?”
Rose had transitioned from fitful complaining to a full wail.
Jackson went to her, gingerly lifting her from the swing, then settling her into his arms.
“Doesn’t bother me,” Owen said. “I like you. But Oliver says you’re trying to steal our mom from our dad.”
Resting his chin atop the baby’s head—she was finally quieting down—Jackson sighed. Looked like it was going to be one of those days.
“I never said that,” Oliver argued.
“Did, too. While we were brushin’ our teeth last night, you said you wished Mr. Tate would go ahead and get married so he’d quit stealing Mom from Dad.”
“Did not!” Oliver was on his feet, fists clenched. “Take it back!”
Owen stuck out his tongue.
“I hate you!” Oliver hollered. “I wish Mom would’ve never let you out of her belly!”
“Whoa, guys,” Jackson said, rising to referee, not to mention get Rose above the scuffle. He’d worried the raised voices would upset her, but judging by her wide-eyed stare, she was intrigued. “That’s enough.”
“I do hate him,” Oliver mumbled.
“I hate you,” Owen said. “Dad does, too, or he never would’ve left!”
Ouch. Talk about hitting below the belt. Jackson had forgotten how cruel kids could be.
The boys went from verbal missiles to kicking and fists.
“Ella!” Jackson bellowed, doing his damnedest to break the kids apart while keeping Rose safe.
“What’s the matt—Owen! Oliver! Knock it off!”
“He started it,” Owen said, huffing and out of breath.
“He’s lying,” Oliver said, casting his twin a glare. “And anyway, if he has to keep living here, I’m running away.”
Sighing, Ella put her hands over her eyes and shook her head. She’d changed from her robe into tan slacks and a crisp white blouse, over which she wore a white lab coat with Dr. Ella Garvey embroidered in cursive on the pocket. Sometimes Jackson forgot how accomplished she was. There was no way she had time for kid wars.
From outside came the double honk of Mindy Ford’s mom’s minivan. He knew, because Dillon was in the same three-week-rotation carpool.
“Both of you grab your lunches and backpacks, and get outside.” Hands on her hips, she added, “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about this when you get home.”
“Bye, Mommy,” Owen said, sneaking in a hug on his way past. “I’m sorry.”
“Suck-up,” Oliver mumbled, hot on his twin’s heels.
“That was fun,” Ella said after both boys had left the house, Oliver slamming the door. “Bet that’s the last time you show up for coffee over here.”
He winced. “Are your mornings always this much excitement?”
“Usually. What brought all of this on?”
Jackson, Rose still in his arms, sat at the kitchen table.
“Cliff’s Notes version, Oliver asked when I was getting married. Fights ensued when Owen offered the fact that Oliver said I was trying to steal you from their dad. Oliver vehemently denied ever having said this, at which point, the bickering turned even uglier when Owen suggested Todd hated Oliver, which was why he left.”
“Sweet little Owen said that?” Ella, gaping, took the chair beside him.
Jackson laughed. “‘Sweet little Owen’ has one helluva forked tongue.”
“Sorry you had to deal with that,” Ella said, holding Rose’s tiny hand. “Remember when our boys used to be adorable like this? Never sassy. Worst thing they ever did was get you out of bed for a late-night feeding, but then they were so angelic to look at, you didn’t even mind.”
“What’re we going to do?”
“We?” Ella landed a pointed stare right at him. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be getting married. I figure once you and Julie are rehitched, my two guys will magically become best friends.”
At that, Jackson snorted. “Seen any donkeys flying lately?”
“Stranger things could happen,” she said with a warm smile, taking Rose from his arms. “After all, who would’ve thought we’d end up with you?” She’d directed that last part toward the baby, kissing her cheek.
“Given the stress level around our homes lately, will you be sorry to see her go?”
“Yes,” she said, drawing in her lower lip. “I’m pretty attached to her. I couldn’t bear seeing her living with just anyone.”
“I agree.” He stared out the windows into the backyard, struggling for his next words. “Ell?”
“Hmm?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
“I need to apologize.”
“For what? This is cold,” she said, rising with her mug.
“I’m dumping mine out and starting over. Want some?”
“No, thanks.” What he ha
d to say was hard enough without additional caffeine. When she’d returned from her mission, he took a deep breath. “Until witnessing that fight between your boys, I hadn’t realized how much my rocky marriage has affected your usually serene life. For that, I’m sorry.”
“Hush,” she said, sipping the steaming, fragrant brew.
“Oliver hasn’t stopped being mad at Todd and me since the divorce. He’s just been on hiatus. His anger has nothing to do with you. Owen grabs every chance he can to dig at his brother, so voilà, you have the perfect storm of kid angst.”
“Yeah, but…” He put his free hand over hers. Was it the heat from her mug that had him humming with attraction, or Ella herself? Trying to get back on track, he cleared his throat.
“Before Dillon started in with this whole remarriage thing, then telling your boys that I’m going to be their dad, all of your problems were at least on a nice low simmer instead of boiling over like they are now.”
“Just think how boring that would be.” She dazzled him with a wink and swift smile. Gripping his hand firmly, making him feel disturbingly whole when he wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her other than nice, safe platonic friendship, she said, “I’m not sure how, but somehow we’ll get you through this. You and Julie will finally patch things up. Dillon will be thrilled. My boys will finally get it through their thick skulls that Todd took off for greener, younger, thinner pastures because he’s a cheating, lowlife bastard scum, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”
Earlier, they’d talked about donkeys flying? Ha. Jackson strongly suspected that in order for him to be happily married to Julie again, pigs would have to fly, as well. Not wanting to leave her or Rose, he asked out of the blue, “Do you really have to go in to the clinic today?”
“I really do.” Grimacing, she glanced at her pink Minnie Mouse watch. “In fact, I’m already late.”
“Can’t you call in sick?”
Grinning, she tweaked his nose. “If I called in sick, then who would treat all of my sick patients?”
“ALL RIGHT, GUYS,” Ella said that evening after dinner and before a dessert of pound cake and strawberries with whipped cream—the diet wasn’t going so well! “Now that you’ve both had a chance to cool off, I want each of you to tell me what’s going through your heads to have said such horrible things to each other this morning.”
Oliver crossed his arms.
“Owen?” she prompted, looking to her youngest. “Do you have anything to say on the matter?”
He crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue at his twin.
“Okay,” she said with a deep sigh. “This is going great. I guess I’ll talk and you guys are going to listen.”
Both boys stared hard at their empty dinner plates.
“Owen, Jackson told me what you said to Oliver about your father leaving because he hated him. That’s one of the cruelest, nastiest, not to mention most false things you’ve ever said. I’m ashamed of you. You don’t have to like your brother, but you will respect him, and what you said wasn’t only disrespectful but mean. I thought you had a bigger heart than that.”
His chin touching his chest, Owen’s big eyes shone with unshed tears.
“And Oliver, what makes you think it’s any business of yours whether or not Dillon’s dad gets back together with his wife? For Dillon’s sake, I hope they do remarry, but that’s hardly for you to decide. As for him stealing me away from your father…” She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. I’m sorry about your dad leaving. You’ll never know how much I ache inside for your pain, sweetie, but he’s got a new family now, and he’s not coming back. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you just as much. Just that he doesn’t live here—and isn’t going to live here—no matter how hard you wish he would.”
“But why?” Oliver asked, making no attempt to hold back his tears. “I love him. Why doesn’t he love me?”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, going to her son and kneeling, pulling him into a hug. “Your father adores you and Owen. He just has a funny way of showing it.”
“I love you, too, Oliver.” Owen hopped up from his chair to join the family hug. “I’m sorry I said all that stuff. I was just mad ’cause you called me a liar.”
“I—I miss Dad,” Oliver said. “I—I m-miss him so bad.”
On her knees, rocking her two sobbing precious boys, Ella didn’t miss Todd. She hated him. How could he have done this to their sons? Their family?
“M-Mom?” Oliver eventually said, his tears having subsided to the occasional hiccup.
“Uh-huh?” she asked, still holding him, still stroking his hair.
“Do I have to run away if Owen still lives here?”
“I hope not.” Just thinking about the last time her boys vanished took ten years off her life. “I’d die if you ran away again, and I don’t want Owen to go, either.”
“But Dad says to always be a man of my word.” He’s one to talk!
“In this case, I think it’ll be all right if you break your word.” She kissed his forehead. “Besides, you didn’t really promise you’d run away, just mentioned it. So I don’t think it counts.”
After tucking the boys in for the night and cleaning the kitchen, Ella sat in the living room, nursing a mug of chamomile tea and rocking Rose.
“I can’t even remember what life was like without you,” she said to the tiny creature, tracing her perfect fingers and toes. “Somewhere out there, I’m guessing your mom is sorely missing you.”
Ella couldn’t fathom the courage it must have taken for the infant’s mom to give her away. As much as she loved her sons, no force—human or nature—could ever pry her from them. True, Rose’s mom could’ve given her away for selfish reasons, but Ella preferred to think her action had been that of a selfless person. A person who knew she couldn’t give the infant adequate care, so she’d trusted her upbringing to another.
Ella had given a lot of thought to the fact that Rose’s mom had to have been somewhat familiar with the park—or, at least the boys’ playing habits—to have known when to safely leave the baby. Did Rose’s mom know her? Had she maybe even been a patient? A sibling of a patient?
“You are quite the mystery,” Ella said to the infant, who’d opened her big blue eyes. The baby held up her head just enough to stare. “Nicely done. You’re growing up on me.”
It was such fun sharing the baby girl with Jackson. How wonderful it would be to share the highs and lows of parenting full-time. Even when she and Todd had still been married, he’d always been somewhat of an absentee father. In his own way, she supposed he cared, but he’d never been the overly demonstrative type, acting as if hugs were billed by the second.
Having gotten to know Jackson, Ella envied Julie. Jackson was a wonderful father. He’d probably been an equally fantastic husband. Not the type to shower a woman with expensive gifts, but gifts far more precious. He’d give of his time. Affection. Laughter.
Leaning her head back, closing her eyes, she recalled that morning when she’d rested her head on his back. He’d felt so solid beneath her cheek. As if he had the strength to bear anything life threw his way. That’s what he physically felt like, but emotionally, she feared he might break. Question was, when—if—that happened, would he turn to Julie for solace, or her?
“YO, DUDE,” Vince Calivaris called out to Jackson while they were headed back to the station Friday morning from what had turned out to be a bogus 4:00 a.m. call. “You totally just drove past the Bat Cave.”
“Crap,” Jackson mumbled under his breath. “Sorry about that.”
At this hour, the four-lane city street the station was housed on was deserted, so he did a U-turn, quickly enough righting his mistake.
“No sweat, man.”
They were back in the station house’s gray-and-black dining room, downing Captain Crunch, when Calivaris asked, “What had you so deep in thought you forgot where we live?”
“You got a few days?” Jackson asked around a mouthful.
“At least till our shift ends. Spill.”
Jackson told his friend the highlights, and by the time he’d finished they’d done their breakfast dishes and had moved on to play pool in the rec room. The space had been decorated by the captain’s wife and looked more like a silk-flower factory explosion than an all-male workplace and hangout. The guys dreaded the day she got her hands on the rest of the place. Still, since she was the captain’s wife, they’d all had to be polite and rave about how much they liked it. Blocking out the pink-and-blue floral wallpaper behind the pool table, Jackson finished his list of issues with the latest on Owen and Oliver’s epic battle.
“Damn,” the six-four Italian said, fingering his goatee while waiting for his turn, “you have gotten yourself into a mess. So on the one hand, the hot lady doctor is into you, and you’re into her, but her kids can’t stand you.”
“Sad, but true.”
“Then you’ve got your equally smokin’ ex wanting to hook back up with you, but you’re like, dude, been there, done that and ain’t having it no more. But your kid is like, yes, Daddy, you are having it and then some.” Spoken like a twenty-three-year-old. As the youngest in the station by ten years, sometimes translation was necessary to get the gist of what he was saying.
“Um, that’s pretty much it—I think.” Jackson was still trying to decipher portions of Calivaris’s frat talk. “Got any advice?”
Calivaris took a second to ponder this. “Here’s the deal. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
Screwing up his face, Jackson asked, “Does that mean I’ve got to do what’s right for my boy, or for me?”
“What feels good to you?” Calivaris was solids, and he hit his red into a corner pocket.
“That’s the problem.” Calivaris had missed his next shot, so Jackson tried getting his yellow stripe in the center pocket.
“Sometimes, I’m on board with getting back with my ex. We used to have good times before she took off. And what about the pain she caused our son? How can I forget that?”
“Forget, hell. If you get back with her, you’re going to have to totally forgive.”
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