“And if I can’t?”
“Easy,” he said, making his next shot. “Go with another plan.”
“Which would be?” Jackson asked, wincing when his pal sank yet another ball in the corner pocket.
“Get something going with the other woman whose twins hate you. Buy them lots of iPods and stuff. Trust me, they’ll come around.”
Jackson had to laugh. “How am I supposed to bribe kids with electronics on a fireman’s salary?”
“Sorry, dude,” he said, aiming for the eight ball, calling it, then sinking the shot. “I’m an idea man. If you’re wanting construction documents, you’ll have to find someone else.”
“Got anyone in mind?” Jackson asked.
“My Grandma Vinnie’s got a knack with tea leaves. Want me to give her a call?”
“Thanks, man,” Jackson said, putting his cue back on the rack, “but I think I’ll tackle this one on my own.” Starting with calling the woman who occupied more and more of his thoughts.
Chapter Ten
“Hey,” Jackson said to Ella early Saturday morning at the Key Elementary family yard sale. The school was raising money for new playground equipment. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“The PTA wrangled me in to help.” She looked especially pretty with her long hair in braids and a red school T-shirt nicely hugging her assets. Her khaki shorts gave a much better view of her legs than her usual slacks and lab coat. “Is Dillon here with you?”
He nodded. “And Julie. I wasn’t planning on coming, but Dillon told her about the sale over dinner last night, and she thought it’d be good to clean out the closets, then do what we can to help.”
“That was thoughtful of her.” Instead of meeting his gaze, Ella glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sure once things get busy, we’ll need the extra hands.”
“You looking for someone? You seem distracted.”
“No,” she said, doing the same thing again. “I’m good. Owen and Oliver are around here somewhere with Rose. Dillon would probably enjoy hanging out with them.” For a split second, a pained expression crossed her face, then she was off, heading toward a table piled with kids’ clothes in need of folding.
Following, dodging a pigtailed second grader darting by clutching at least a dozen Barbies, he asked, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me.”
“Why would I do that?” she said, not once looking his way.
“There you are,” Julie said, holding Dillon’s hand. With her free hand, she rubbed Jackson’s back. Not too long ago, Ella had done the same, only her touch had sent sparks of awareness shooting down his spine. “Hi, Ella.”
“Hi,” Ella said, with what Jackson knew was her forced smile. “Nice seeing you again.”
“Likewise.” Julie turned her attention to Jackson. “Dillon and I found a sack filled with antique crystal doorknobs that’d look perfect in the house. Should I grab them?”
“Um, sure,” he said, watching Ella fold faster. “That’d be great.”
“We’ll install them this afternoon. It’ll be a fun family project, don’t you think, Dillon?”
“Yep.” Dillon grinned up at his mom, adoration etched into every inch of his face.
“Come on,” Julie said to Jackson, tugging his hand, “I want you to see some antique stained-glass windows I found, too. They’d look great mounted at the top of the staircase. When the morning sun hits them just right, the whole entry hall will glow.”
His imagination traveled back to Wednesday morning: Ella on her porch in her cute pink robe, her complexion glowing in the morning sun, those long legs of hers peeking out from between the parting in her robe.
He caught himself staring at Ella.
He forced a breath, knowing he should focus on Julie, but having an awfully tough time of it. It irked him no end how the woman had forced her way back into his and Dillon’s lives as abruptly as she’d left. It was as if it had never even occurred to her that Jackson might not want her back. Not that Dillon was giving him much of a choice.
“Jackson?” Julie elbowed his ribs. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you have indigestion. Need an antacid?” To Ella, she said, “We just finished a huge country breakfast at Harriet’s. You know, the cute new place out by the highway? Anyway, Jackson must’ve eaten his own weight in sausage gravy. I told him he’d pay for it later, and look, it hasn’t even been an hour and already he’s got a fire in his belly.” When she took the liberty of rubbing his stomach, it was all Jackson could do not to push her away. Then he caught sight of his son grinning up at him.
“Mom’s a good doctor, huh, Dad? She always knows just what to do to make us feel better.”
“Thank you,” Julie said, bending to give Dillon a kiss.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”
Dillon preened.
Jackson fought down the sausage gravy that was indeed now making its way back up.
WOW…SHE THOUGHT, trailing after Owen and Oliver as they showed off her baby girl. She was gorgeous. Just as perfect as she remembered. Thank goodness she’d seen the ad about the school’s yard sale in the newspaper.
Feeling especially bold in the morning sun, she gradually made her way over to the kids circled around a pile of toys for sale.
“Hi,” she said, grabbing a model airplane. “Do any of you know how much this is?”
“It’s a dollar, lady,” a little boy told her, pointing to the tag on the plane’s left wing. “See? It says so right there.”
“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” the boy said, returning to his play.
She browsed a few more minutes, all the while achingly aware of the closeness of her baby. She’d been dressed in another adorable outfit—this time, teeny baby jeans and a mini school T-shirt. A red baseball cap kept the sun from her precious eyes.
“That sure is a cute baby,” she found the courage to say. “Is she your sister?” she asked Owen, who was hugging her close.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Wanna hold her?”
She took a moment to catch her breath and still her racing heart, then said, “Um, sure. That’d be nice.”
As the boy gingerly passed off the infant to her, it was all she could do not to burst into happy tears. She clung to her child like a lifeline. If only she could wake each day holding her baby girl, everything would be okay. But how could she do that without her family being shamed?
Dragging in deep breaths of her baby’s amazing scents of lotion and powder and everything good and sweet, she fought the aching knot in her throat.
I love you. I love you so much.
“Lady?” Owen asked, peering up at her. “Are you all right?”
“I—I’m great,” she said, trying so very hard to mask the true intensity of her feelings. If she’d wanted, right now, she could take her baby and run. Run far away from the awful place that had forced her into this situation. No one should have to abandon their baby because they were afraid of what people might say or do.
“Lady? Are you crying?”
“N-no,” she said, even though she was.
Run. Run!
Heart pounding, she weighed her options. If she did take her baby, she’d be so happy, but what then? She had only about a hundred bucks in her purse. That wouldn’t get her very far. She didn’t even have a diaper bag for the infant. And what would she feed her, as her milk had dried up long ago.
“Do I know you?” Owen asked. “You look kinda familiar.”
“No,” she said hastily, knowing the right thing to do would be to give the baby back, especially since she didn’t even have enough money to feed her. “D-does she have a name?”
“We call her Rose, ’cause she’s so pretty—like a rose.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” she said with a sniffle, cradling the infant, tracing her eyebrows, her nose. Committing her every feature to memory since it se
emed unlikely she’d get the opportunity to hold Rose again.
“Can I have her back?” Owen asked. “She’s kinda mine.”
No, she isn’t.
It took every ounce of strength she had to return Rose to Owen’s waiting arms. Because she loved her baby so much, and knew she couldn’t care for her in the way she deserved, she tearfully handed over her baby, then vanished into the crowd, no longer trying to hold back her tears.
TORTURE.
The afternoon had been pure torture—at least as far as Ella was concerned. Standing around in hot sun, dealing with cranky bargain hunters intent on getting glassware for a nickel instead of a dime had been no biggie. Seeing Julie leading Jackson and Dillon around like her own personal sheep had tested her patience worse than parents who failed to bring their kids in for their annual immunizations.
Loading leftover toys and clothes into boxes to be delivered to a local charity, she tried not looking toward the happy family. Why hadn’t they all just gone home to install their stupid crystal doorknobs? Why had they hung around helping when they weren’t wanted?
“It’s sure nice having Julie back, huh?” Marcia Jenkins strolled up, a boxful of paperbacks in her arms. “She’s always been such a great asset to our PTA. We all hated seeing her go. She mentioned she and Jackson are getting remarried, but I thought you were dating him, Ella?”
“Nope,” Ella said in as breezy a tone as possible. “We’re just friends.” Was Marcia purposely being cruel? Surely she’d known all that garbage Jackson had spouted about Rose being their love child had been a joke?
“Then why have you been upset all day?”
“Excuse me?” Now the woman had gone too far. “For your information, I’ve been in a wonderful mood—not that it’s any of your business.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Marcia said. “Maybe someone’s feeling more than friendly toward a certain child’s father and Mr. Jealousy has decided to bite?”
“Marcia,” Ella said, crowning her box with a neatly folded stack of T-shirts, “as far as I’m concerned, you can bite me.”
Not giving the woman the satisfaction of looking back, Ella ignored Marcia when she called out, “I’m reporting you for that! We don’t take kindly to rude behavior!”
Trembling, Ella gathered up Rose and the boys and hightailed it to her minivan.
“Mo-om,” Owen complained, climbing into the third-row seat. “I’m not ready to go. Me and Wally were playing tag.”
“Get in the car,” Ella said, not in the mood for whining. She made quick work of taking Rose from him, then settled her in her car seat, making sure the restraints were fastened properly before slamming the side door and climbing behind the wheel.
“I’m ready,” Oliver said, hopping in the front seat and fastening his seat belt. “I didn’t think Holly Fleming was ever going to leave me alone.”
The heat in the closed-up vehicle was stifling, and the second Ella started the engine, she turned on the air. Letting the lukewarm stream wash over her, she gripped the wheel with both hands, squeezing for all she was worth.
What had come over her? Bite me?
Inwardly groaning, she could only imagine the hell there’d be to pay for her one moment of speaking her mind. Marcia had had it coming, but still, for Ella to have gone off on her like that was so out of character. But then, speaking of character, the day had been incredibly trying, and Marcia’s snide comments were the last straw.
Only to herself could Ella admit that yes, she very much cared for Jackson Tate. Probably more than she should in light of the fact that he and Julie were trying to patch things up, but that didn’t lessen the way her stomach knotted with giddy tension every time he was around.
“I thought we were leaving,” Oliver asked.
“We are,” she said, putting the car in gear.
She was backing out of their parking place when, in her peripheral vision, she saw someone charging up behind the car. Braking, she glanced over her shoulder to find Jackson jogging up to the driver’s-side window. Damn her stupid pulse for racing. He was just a friend, why couldn’t her body seem to get that fact? She didn’t want to hold him or kiss him or—
He knocked on the window.
She pressed the power button, sliding the window down. “Yes?”
“What’s the hurry? You didn’t even say goodbye.”
Shrugging, she said, “It’s been a long day. I’m ready to get home.”
“I feel your pain,” he said with the slow, sexy grin she’d grown so fond of. “I won’t keep you, but Julie thought it might be nice if you and the boys and Rose came over for a barbecue tonight. I told her it might be—”
“No,” Ella said, unable to fathom what spending a night with him and his wife might be like, especially since the last time she’d sat around the grill at his home had been so idyllic.
“We have plans. Lots of plans.”
“No, we don’t, Mom.” Oliver unfastened his seat belt, and crowded onto her lap. To Jackson, he asked, “Are you fixing more steaks?”
“If that’s what you want,” Jackson said.
“Yum, that sounds good.” Owen bounded out of his seat, too. “Can we have a sleepover?”
“Sure.” Jackson looked to Ella. “Assuming it’s okay with your mom.”
“They can go,” she said, “but I’m busy. It’s a work thing.”
Talk to me, he said with his eyes. It’s me. Jackson. Your friend, remember?
“Be sure and give my thanks to Julie for the invitation,” she somehow managed. “It was nice of her to think of us.”
“Ella…” His pause said everything. That he wanted to talk—really talk—but couldn’t because of the boys.
“What time do you want me to drop off my guys?” she asked, looking anywhere but into his intense gaze.
“Whenever it’s handy. For that matter, they can come with us now, if you’d like.”
“Yeah!” the boys said in unison.
Cringing, Ella said, “I, ah, suppose that would be all right.”
“Cool! Thanks, Mom!” Owen kissed her cheek.
“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” Oliver said, gifting her with a fast hug.
“I’ll be over,” he said in a hushed tone when the boys were on the opposite side of the van. “I’m not sure when, but as soon as I can get away.”
“Please, don’t,” she begged, not wanting to get involved deeper. They had nothing to discuss other than casual things such as whether he seriously wanted her to make her famous meatballs for his wedding reception. When he said nothing, just tortured her with his searching gaze, she repeated, “Please….”
With the tip of his finger, he traced her lips, whispering. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“WHERE ARE YOU OFF TO?” Julie asked while Jackson stood at the back door, SUV keys in hand. She’d been making Rice Krispies treats with the boys, and looked domestic wearing a pink apron she’d found tucked at the back of the pantry. She’d won it as a gag gift at one of her law office’s Christmas parties. Everyone had thought it hilarious that their decidedly undo-mestic partner had won such a quintessentially Susie Homemaker gift.
“I’ve got to run a quick errand.”
“What?” She was pressing the treats flat on the cookie sheet with the back of a wooden spoon.
“Just an errand. Does it matter?”
“You’re lying. You’re not running an errand. You’re going to see Ella Garvey.”
Expression grim, Jackson jiggled his keys. “What if I am?”
“Honey?” She fixed him with an accusatory stare, making him feel like a stranger in his own home. But then whenever she was here, he didn’t feel as if he belonged. “I thought we were trying to work things out.”
He sighed. “I just need to talk to her, all right? Talk.”
“You sure? Because at the school this afternoon, Marcia said—”
“Stop. Marcia Jenkins is a nasty gossip not even fit to say Ella’s name. Now, if you’re serious about wanting to
patch things up with me, I’d suggest you lay off Ell. She’s my friend. Nothing more.” Liar. The deception caused bile to rose in his throat.
“I believe you,” she said, giving him a quick hug and kiss.
“Hurry back, though. I promised the boys we’d play Monopoly, and I don’t want to start till you get home.”
Home. Again, with Julie here, the place no longer felt like a home, but a mere house. Though Julie had designed the state-of-the-art kitchen with its black granite counters, stainless-steel appliances and custom cherry cabinets, she’d rarely—if ever—used any of it. His mother occupied the space more than his ex.
“Jackson?” Julie asked, cupping her hand to his cheek.
“You okay?”
“Great,” he said with a sharp laugh. “Never been better.”
“I know this pouty tone.” She sat on a stool at the counter bar. “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”
“You wanna know what’s on my mind?” he asked, fingers gripping the back doorknob so tight, it hurt. “I’ll tell you.” He went to her, stopping inches from her face. “I don’t get how all of a sudden, you’ve gone from wanting nothing to do with your family to spending every spare second with us. Volunteering at school yard sales? Baking? Playing Monopoly and going to craft fairs?” He snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say aliens have taken over the Julie I knew and used to love.”
“I told you,” she said, fisting his black golf shirt, tears pooling her eyes. “I’ve been lonely without you and Dillon, and then when he ran away, something inside of me snapped. I realized that somewhere along the line, my priorities had gotten screwed up. I’m sorry for that. You’ll never know how sorry, but I can’t change the past. All I can do is my best to right my wrongs.” Tossing her arms around his neck, she fiercely hugged him. “I’m sorry. Please, at least try giving me a second chance. Don’t you remember what we used to have?”
He had remembered. For two damned long years.
But he was tired.
“Say you love me,” she asked, raining kisses on his cheeks and nose and lips. “Please, Jackson, say you still love me.”
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