Memories: A Husband to RememberNew Year's Daddy (Hqn)

by Jackson, Lisa

  “That’s right.” Travis drove the point home, even though it was bound to hurt a little. “Now your mother’s in a foreign country and you wouldn’t know anyone there. You’d be isolated in some American school, if you were lucky, and get to hobnob with the sons and daughters of diplomats and the like. You think life here is hard, just you wait.”

  Bryan’s lips rolled over his teeth and he stared at the floor. Travis gambled. “But if it’s what you really want, if you think you’d be happier in Paris, then go. With my blessing. Just remember two things.”

  “What?”

  “First and foremost, I don’t want you to go. I want you to live with me.” He stared at his son long and hard. “I love you, Bryan, and even if it’s not a guy thing to say, I want you to know it.”

  A growl of disbelief.

  “Now the second thing, and it’s important, too.” He folded his arms over his chest. “If you decide to go to France, then you can’t come back until summer. You’ve got to learn to commit, sport, and if you want to live with Sylvia, then you can’t play this same game over there that you’re playing with me now. You can’t use me, or living with me, as a bargaining chip to get what you want from her, because even though your mother might buy into that kind of blackmail, I don’t.”

  Bryan drew his finger in a circle on the faded carpet. “Then you’re a liar, right. If you really loved me—”

  “I’d do exactly what I’m doing because it’s the best thing for you and that’s what matters.”

  “Bull!”

  “I guess you don’t understand, Bry. When you love someone, really care for them, you don’t use that love as a weapon, or a wedge, or a trump card. You don’t use it against them at all. It’s a gift.”

  “Geez, Travis, listen to yourself! Talk about sounding hokey! All you need is a pulpit and you could open your own church.” His finger quit moving on the carpet. “You never were this way before.”

  “I know.” Travis picked up a barbell and wrapped his fingers around the cool metal. “I’m trying to fix that.”

  “If you ask me, you’re getting weird. What happened to you?”

  “I looked in the mirror one day and didn’t like what I saw.” Travis lifted the weight over his head.

  “Oh, sure. It didn’t have anything to do with Mom deciding to ‘find herself’ or whatever it is she thinks she’s doing.”

  “It happened about the same time.”

  Bryan chewed on his lower lip a second, then he raised his eyes and pinned his father in his troubled gaze. “You ever gonna get married again?”

  “Me? No,” he said quickly. Then the image of Ronni’s upturned face, her lips parted, her brown eyes warm and inviting chased through his mind, and for the first time in years, he doubted himself. “At least I don’t have any immediate plans.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Why?”

  “No reason,” he said quickly, then added, “Me neither. I’m never getting married!”

  “You’re a little young to be saying that.”

  “Yeah, but girls are trouble.”

  “I think that’s what makes them so damned fascinating.” He transferred the barbell to his other hand and started a series of repetitions.

  “What about you and that Ronni?” Bryan asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  The muscles in the back of Travis’s neck tensed. “What about us?”

  “She seems to like you a lot.”

  “We’re friends.” Liar! It’s more than that. Much more. Even Bryan’s picked up on it. “I barely know her.”

  “Her kid’s a pain.”

  “Amy?”

  “Yeah. Always askin’ questions and gettin’ into my stuff! Messin’ it up.”

  “How can you tell?” Travis asked, eyeballing the clutter that was strewn everywhere. Bryan’s bedroom looked like a cyclone had stormed through, turned around, decided enough damage hadn’t been done and swept back the way it had come. But Travis wasn’t riding him about the mess. At least not yet. There were bigger, more important issues to deal with. Until his son was off crutches, in school, had made some new friends and felt more comfortable living in Cascadia, Travis had decided not to sweat the little things, such as a messy room.

  “I can tell, okay? The kid was only here a few hours and most of the time stayed out of my way, but boy, when she was in here, she trashed the place. She bugs me.”

  “She’s only four.”

  “Well, she can be four someplace else.”

  “Not tonight. They’re coming over. We’re cooking.”

  “You and me? I thought that was just a joke.”

  Travis rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then lifted his hand solemnly, as if he were about to take the most important oath of his life. “I swear on my honor. It’s the truth.”

  With a sound of disgust, Bryan flopped onto the floor and stared at the ceiling. “Well, that’s great, Dad. Just…just great.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. We’re going to barbecue.”

  “What?” Bryan glanced to the window where snow was settling against the lower panes. “It’s freezing outside.”

  “We’ve got pretty big porches.”

  “But—but you barbecue for the Fourth of July or…what’s wrong with you?” Bryan stared at his father as if he’d completely lost his mind, and Travis couldn’t really blame him. The idea of a barbecue had just popped into his head.

  “I don’t even think you can do it in the winter,” Bryan said. “It must be against the law or somethin’.”

  “They cook outside up at the lodge on Mount Echo all the time.”

  Bryan leveled his father a look that silently called him a lunatic, but he held his tongue.

  “It’s going to be fun,” Travis assured him.

  “Since when do you care about fun?”

  Good question. For years he’d avoided any activity that wasn’t business-related, including seeking out a good time. He’d been single-minded and with only serious purposes in mind. “Since I decided that living inside a boardroom was a waste of time—mine and yours. So this is the start, and we’re going to do a lot of fun things in the future.”

  “Like what?”

  “Camping, trail riding, fly fishing, maybe even mountain climbing.” Travis set the weight down and climbed to his feet. “Now, I’d better go locate some charcoal and a grill in the middle of winter in Cascadia.”

  “While you’re at it, you might try to find the rest of your brain,” Bryan said, but there was a twinkle in his eye that Travis hadn’t seen for weeks.

  “Very funny. You coming?”

  “I don’t know why,” Bryan grumbled, but grabbed his crutches, propped them against the bed and struggled to his feet. He followed his father to the hallway and as Travis checked to make sure he had his keys, his son asked, “Hey, Dad, what are the symptoms of a guy who’s going through a second childhood?”

  *

  “I don’t want to be a wise man,” Kurt announced, crossing his arms over his chest as Ronni, on her knees in the dining area of her house, tried to adjust the hem of his costume. “They’re dorks.”

  “Stand still,” Shelly ordered around a mouth of pins. “And remember that the wise men were not dorks. They were very important kings. That’s right, isn’t it?” she asked Ronni. “Kings, right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, dressing in towels is dorky,” Kurt stated emphatically. The costume, cut from two old striped beach blankets, draped over his body and touched the floor.

  “How about sheets?” Kent twirled, sending his shepherd outfit of muslin billowing. “That’s dorky, too.”

  “They didn’t have malls back then, or big department stores,” Shelly said as she made a final tuck in one sleeve. “This will have to do.”

  “I hate the pageant,” Kurt muttered under his breath.

  “Don’t they go to church to learn how not to hate?” Ronni asked her sister.

  “That’s the way
it’s supposed to work.”

  “I hate church, too.”

  “Stop it, Kurt, you do not.”

  “Do, too.”

  Shelly rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if searching for God and hoping that He would intervene. “The pageant will be fun. Now, come on, boys, settle down, we’re just about done.”

  Amy fluttered through in the garb of an angel. “I like being an angel,” she said, her tinsel halo bobbing as she talked, her wings stiff.

  “You would,” Kurt observed.

  “I was an angel last year,” Kent said.

  “Yeah, who ever heard of a boy angel?”

  “How about Gabriel?” Shelly asked. “He’s a man, right?” Again she looked at her sister. “Maybe I’d better brush up on my Bible study.”

  “Who cares?” Kurt complained.

  Ronni stood and dusted her hands. “Okay, that does it. Take off your costume—carefully, now,” she added when Kurt began to rip off the offensive robe. “You three can play outside for a while, if you want, run off some of that restless energy.”

  Towel-robes, sheets, wings and halo went flying as the kids grabbed their jackets and headed out the front door. Ronni had to help Amy with her zipper, hat and boots, but the little girl was out the door in a flash, chasing after her older cousins. From the window, Ronni watched Kurt hurl a snowball that smashed against the back of Kent’s jacket. With a squeal, Kent scooped up a handful of snow and the fight was on.

  “Victor told me about helping set up a tree for you over at the old lodge,” Shelly observed as she draped the shepherd’s outfit over the end of the ironing board.

  “It wasn’t really for me. I’m just helping decorate it.”

  “For Keegan?”

  “Mmm.” Ronni nodded and adjusted the pins on the sleeves of Kurt’s costume.

  “How does the old place look?”

  “Good,” Ronni admitted, despising the wistful tone that stole into her voice. “The lodge is still pretty drafty and there’s lots more work to be done, but what he’s done so far is nice and he’s trying to refurbish it rather than remodel it.” She snapped the pin box closed and stretched her arms over her head. “He didn’t say too much about it, but it seems as if he’s not going to do anything as stupid as modernize it—except for the needed repairs and necessary updates to bring it up to code.”

  “Did you ever talk to Taffy—ask her why she didn’t tell you someone was interested in buying the place?”

  “Nah.” Ronni wound measuring tape between her fingers and frowned at the mention of her old school friend turned real estate agent. “What would have been the point? I couldn’t have afforded the place anyway.”

  “I know the feeling,” Shelly said. “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be a spiritual Christmas this year.”

  “That’s the best kind.”

  “I think so, too, but tell it to a couple of six-year-olds who want everything they see on television. Kent’s list is two pages and he keeps coming up with more ideas.”

  “How about a puppy?” Ronni suggested. “I know where there’s a great litter.”

  “We rent, remember? No dogs allowed. And if we have to move—”

  “You’re not moving. Don’t even talk like that,” Ronni said, but saw the worry in her sister’s eye before Shelly changed the subject back to Travis.

  “So tell me about your new neighbor.”

  “Not much to say.”

  “Oh, come on. Vic wouldn’t say a word, just that he seemed like an okay, regular kind of Joe. I told him that was crazy. Regular guys don’t buy old lodges and lakes and hundreds of acres of woods. The guy’s got to be loaded.”

  “Or in debt.”

  “Nah. The banks only loan money to you if you don’t need it. Believe me, I know.” She placed her hand near the bottom plate of the iron, decided it was hot enough and started pressing the wrinkles out of Kent’s shepherd costume. “So what does Keegan do?”

  “He’s never really said.” Ronni, glancing through the window over the sink to make sure the kids were okay, reached for the coffeepot and turned on the water while watching Kurt climb onto the fence and try to lure the horses to the side of the paddock with a handful of oats. The animals, standing in the shelter of a fir tree, pricked their ears forward and flicked their tails, but weren’t enticed. Loose Change, nicknamed Lucy, snorted in disdain and her tail flicked over her rounded belly.

  “Well, he must earn a living some way, or else—God forbid,” she mocked, “he’s independently wealthy.”

  Ronni chuckled as she rinsed the glass pot and scooped coffee into the maker. “I think he owns some sporting goods company in Seattle and it runs itself or he has a manager who does all the legwork. I don’t know.” She looked up at her sister and noticed a gleam in Shelly’s eye as she leaned across the counter. “Why?”

  “You seem to be spending a lot of time with him.”

  “Not a lot.”

  “So come on, tell me, what’s he like, what’s he look like…? Vic wouldn’t fill me in on the details.”

  Coffee started to drizzle through the filter and the scent filled the room. “What’s he like?” Ronni said, pulling down cups and saucers from an open cupboard. “Well, he’s in his mid-thirties, I’d guess, and he’s tall, about the same size as Vic, but he’s got dark hair and gray eyes and…a great smile, very sexy, but he hardly ever shows it off.” She set the sugar bowl on the table along with a small creamer filled with half-and-half. “Oh, and he’s got a son. Fourteen going on twenty-five.”

  “You don’t like his boy?”

  “No, that’s not the problem,” Ronni said, watching Loose Change finally deign to amble through the snow and nuzzle Kurt’s mittened hand in search of grain. “He doesn’t like me.”

  “Oops.”

  “Yeah. He’s a little mixed up and needs to settle in with his dad before he should have to deal with a woman….” She let the words trail away. What was she thinking? Bryan would never have to deal with her, not permanently. She was just Travis’s neighbor, potentially a friend. Who are you trying to fool? a tiny voice in her mind nagged. Do you tell your neighbors your darkest secrets? Fantasize about them? Stay awake all night remembering what it felt like to kiss them?

  “So you’re interested,” Shelly said with a matchmaking glimmer in her eye.

  “Not really.”

  “Sure you are. Look, he’s new in town, doesn’t know anyone and lives up in that rambling old place with just his son. Why don’t you invite him to have Christmas dinner with us?”

  The coffeemaker sputtered. “Christmas?” Ronni repeated.

  “Why not?”

  “Look, Shelly, don’t start with this, okay? It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I’m just having dinner with him—”

  “Twice.” Shelly held up two fingers and wiggled them before she turned off the iron and hung up Kent’s costume. “When’s the last time you went to dinner with a man, hmm?”

  “I’m not inviting him to Christmas dinner,” Ronni said firmly as she poured them each a cup of coffee and they settled into their usual chairs at the table.

  “We’ll see,” Shelly murmured, undeterred.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Shell.”

  “Moi? Of course not.”

  “Don’t you go around my back and invite him.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” But a sly smile curved her lips, and before Ronni could say another word, the door burst open. Kent, holding his mouth, ran into the room. He was crying and sobbing and slipped on the floor.

  Shelly was on her feet in an instant and scooping him up. “What is it, honey?” she asked.

  “K-Kurt, he tagged me—”

  Shelly pulled his hand away from his mouth. Blood was smeared on the lower half of his face and his glove. He let out a terrified howl of pain. Shelly’s face drained of color.

  “I’ll handle this,” Ronni said. “Let’s see.” Kent clung to his mother as Amy and Kurt, looking sheepish, slid
into the room. “Close the door,” Ronni ordered while taking a clean cloth from a drawer, soaking it in warm water and washing Kent’s tear-streaked and blood-soaked face. “I think you’ll live,” she said as she studied the scratches around his mouth and looked inside where one of his front teeth wobbled precariously and blood still ran. “You’ll probably beat your brother in the tooth-loss department, though. My guess is the tooth fairy might come before Santa Claus this year.”

  “Really?” Kent blinked against the tears standing in his eyes.

  “No way!” Kurt complained. He’d been born ten minutes before his younger brother and seemed to think, as eldest son, he had all sorts of privileges.

  “Really. Here, let me get a mirror and you can see for yourself. Amy—” But her daughter was already dashing through the dining and living area, her boots squishing as she left a trail of water on her way to the bathroom.

  “Got it,” she cried. Back in an instant with a hand mirror, she nearly stumbled in her attempt to hand it to a sniffing Kent. “Lookie,” she said as the boy tried his best to eye his injuries.

  Shelly’s color returned. “Now, since no one has to be placed permanently on the injured reserve list, what happened?”

  They all started talking at once, but near as Ronni could tell, Kurt, bored with petting Lucy’s soft nose, had packed a snowball with pieces of ice he’d picked up from the frozen mud puddles. He’d hurled the icy snowball at Kent, whose back was turned, but a second before the moment of impact, Kent had turned and the hard-packed missile had caught him in the face.

  “I think I’d better take my warriors home before anyone else gets hurt in battle,” Shelly said. She glanced longingly at her cooling cup of coffee. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come on, boys.” Kent refused to walk—Shelly had to pack him into the car—and Kurt hung his head, probably because he knew that during the drive home, he was sure to receive a long lecture on playing safely.

  “Kurt wanted to hurt Kent,” Amy announced as she watched the boys struggle with their seat belts.

  “No—”

  “Yes, he did, Mommy. Kurt’s mean.”

  “Just rambunctious.”

  “’Bunctious and mean.” Amy flounced back into the house and Ronni hesitated on the front porch. Dusk was just beginning to settle and the forest seemed dark and gloomy, but through the trees she caught a glimpse of colored lights at the old Johnson place and her heart warmed. What was wrong with her these days? she wondered as she closed the door and looked forward to an evening with a man she barely knew and a boy who seemed to hate her.