by Debby Mayne
“Exactly what did he do today that was so bad?” Amanda really didn’t want to discuss Timmy—or anything else at Lacy’s school, for that matter—but she was willing to do whatever it took to avoid talking about Jerry.
“For starters, he won’t listen when I’m talking.”
“I know I’m not a child expert, but isn’t that normal for five-year-olds?”
Lacy shrugged. “Maybe, but I can usually get their attention with Jocko or one of the VeggieTales songs.”
“So the monkey and vegetables didn’t do it for him, huh?”
Lacy shook her head and clicked her tongue. “All he cared about was what Taylor had in her lunch box.”
Amanda snickered. “Must’ve been yummy.”
“That’s beside the point. I simply can’t have him disrupting the whole class like that all the time. The other kids won’t be able to learn what they need to for first grade.”
This time Amanda had to cough to keep from laughing out loud. Since when had kindergarten become prep school? “You’re kidding, right?”
“Stop making fun of me. It’s serious.” She glared at Amanda, her chin jutting in annoyance.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t funny. Amanda tried hard to put herself in her sister’s place and think of what she’d do if she had to deal with an unruly kid all day.
“You really should talk to his parents and see if they can help,” Amanda finally said.
“I hate talking to the parents,” Lacy said as she hopped off the chair. “They always seem to think I’m not a good teacher if I can’t control their little brats. Besides, Timmy doesn’t live with both of his parents, just his dad.” She paused. “I guess you’re right. I’ll have to talk to him.”
“Why don’t you see if Mr. Oliver will do it for you?” Amanda suggested.
“Come on, Amanda. I can’t run to the principal with this kind of thing. I’ll deal with it.”
Amanda had heard this kind of drama in Lacy a thousand times.
“Sometimes I just get tired of having to do everything myself,” Lacy finished.
“Why don’t we discuss this later?” Amanda paused for a couple of seconds before adding, “Maybe we can come up with a solution.”
After Lacy left, Amanda felt a strong maternal tug. She’d encouraged her sister to go to college so she could have a career as well as more time to grow up before facing the real world she’d been so sheltered from. Since Lacy hadn’t known what to major in and she’d enjoyed being a Sunday school teacher assistant, Amanda had suggested elementary education. By this time, their mother had been in and out of psych hospitals so much, she wasn’t much help.
Diane Burns loved her daughters. There was never any doubt about that. She was just ill-equipped to deal with her own life let alone her daughters, who’d had to raise themselves. She seemed to be an emotional vacuum, without anger, pain, or love. The alcohol and antidepressant drugs kept her numb to normal life. And she’d always been like that.
Although Amanda didn’t understand her mother’s condition at the time, by the time Lacy came along, she’d figured out that it was her job to protect Lacy and teach her the important stuff. What she knew, she passed on to her little sister. What she didn’t know, she faked. That was one reason she had crazy expectations when it came to finding someone to love. Lacy had never liked Eric, so when he proposed, Lacy had argued. Amanda should have listened to her sister’s gut-felt advice.
“Eric isn’t very nice to you,” Lacy had told her as they shopped for Amanda’s wedding gown.
“He’s nice enough.”
Lacy had grimaced and shaken her head. “That’s not what you need, Amanda. You need—”
“Stop.” Amanda held up her hand to shush her sister. “I know what I need. Eric loves me. He’s just not good at showing his feelings.”
Lacy did her sighing thing and rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She turned back to the dress rack. “So why don’t you like the ones with beads and lace?”
Amanda picked out a very simple but elegant gown—or so she thought—and brought it to show the bridal party. Lacy said it was boring, and a couple of the other bridesmaids—girls she knew from church—agreed with her.
“I’m just not into froufrou,” she explained. “That’s more Lacy’s style.”
No one argued. They just exchanged knowing glances and, on the big day, took their places in the small room at the back of the church to wait for the music to begin. The music that never played. A half hour after the wedding was supposed to start, Eric’s mother came back to the bridal dressing room in tears. “Amanda, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid Eric isn’t coming.”
Her heart pounding, Amanda glanced up at the clock then turned back to her fiancé’s mother. “I’m sure he’ll be here. He’s probably just detained.”
“No,” the woman said, before swallowing hard. “I just checked my messages on my cell, and he definitely won’t be here. He went to Alabama, and he’s not coming back.”
That was nine years ago, and Amanda had kept her promise to herself to never allow another man into her life. Lacy had been right about Eric.
Everyone was amazed at how well she’d held up. “I don’t think I could show my face if someone did that to me,” Judy, the church organist, said. “But you’re a much stronger woman than I’ll ever be.”
Stronger? Maybe. But perplexed was probably a better word. She didn’t have any idea how men were supposed to behave.
Yeah, avoiding anything to do with romance was definitely the best thing for Amanda. Let other people who were more equipped to deal with it fall in love.
After she finished working on her spreadsheet, she went to the back room where bicycles were lined up in rows, waiting for adjustment, oiling, or some other service. Most of it Amanda could do. The more complicated repairs had to be done by a handyman who came over from Largo whenever he had some free time.
“Anyone here?”
Amanda spun around and quickly moved toward the front of the shop. She hadn’t heard the person come in. “Sorry, I was just…” Her voice faltered when she saw Jerry standing in her shop, hands in his pockets, looking at her. She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “What can I help you with?”
He glanced around the room then zoomed in on her helmet display on the wall and pointed. “I need one of those.”
“You need another helmet? You’ve got two, right?”
He hesitated then walked toward the wall and inspected the helmets. “How about that one?”
“That’s one of our best, but it’s not cheap.”
“I don’t want cheap,” he replied, still not looking directly at her. “I’ll take it.”
Helmet in hand, Jerry headed down the street toward the condo where his parents were napping, the awkward moment back at the bicycle shop still playing in his head. He wanted to give himself a good swift kick in the backside for not being more prepared.
He didn’t need a helmet. He had two, which was all he needed for a tandem bicycle. No, he wanted to see Amanda, with the soft halo of blond hair framing her heart-shaped face and big blue eyes. If he’d seen her on the street, he would have pegged her for something…well, something more glamorous. He was stunned to learn that she was an athlete. Her soft, feminine appearance belied her skill on wheels.
Ever since Jerry first met Amanda a couple of years ago, he’d sensed something off-limits about her. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but that intrigued him. She was nice, but there was always that distance she kept.
As he made his way up the street past small but well-cared-for houses with weathered doors and porches, he felt the sense of tranquillity that he felt only when he came here. The Florida Gulf Coast promised warmth, relaxation, and charm. It was all that and more for Jerry.
He turned toward the condo and quickened his step. Hopefully this would be an uneventful vacation and his parents would get along now that they were here. The trip had been rough so far.
His dad knew he had Alzheimer’s, and that only frustrated him more. His mother didn’t cut him much slack. When Jerry called her on it, she reminded him that he didn’t have to live with it day in and day out. Hopefully she’d have some time to herself during this vacation.
His dad was standing at the door, watching him come up the sidewalk, and held the door open. “About time you got back. Where ya been?”
Jerry lifted the helmet as he made his way past his dad. “I figured we needed another one of these.”
“Don’t know what for. I’ve been riding a bike all my life, and I’ve never needed one yet.”
“I want you to wear a helmet, Dad.” He placed the helmet on the kitchen counter. “Where’s Mom?”
His father shrugged. “I can’t keep up with that woman these days. When she sets her mind to going somewhere, she just puts on her walking shoes and takes off.”
Jerry smiled. “So she went for a walk, huh?”
“I reckon so.” He lifted his hands in surrender and hung his head. “I just don’t get it.”
“This is a better view than we had last year.” Jerry pointed toward the back of the condo.
Silence filled the space between them as they wandered toward the great room that overlooked the Gulf of Mexico. The peacefulness of this setting couldn’t be duplicated anywhere else.
His dad nodded and blew out a snort. “So, ya think the Falcons are gonna win next season?”
So that was how it was going to be. The best way to avoid anything serious was to turn to sports. Jerry bobbed his head. “They might.”
“I wanna see them play the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in the Super Bowl.”
Jerry grinned. “I don’t think that’s likely.”
“You’re probably right.” His dad clicked his tongue. “I never much liked what happened to the Super Bowl when they started getting all those stupid commercials and rock ‘n’ roll halftimes.”
“Mom said that’s the only reason she watches the Super Bowl,” Jerry reminded him.
“Yeah, well, maybe she’s better off going shopping instead.”
Jerry figured it was best not to respond. His mother was right. The man was obviously spoiling for a fight.
The sound of the front door opening and closing caught both men’s attention. Jerry’s dad’s head shot up. “Rosemary! Is that you?”
“Who else would it be, Harold?” she hollered back.
“Where have you been?”
“I don’t have to tell you every single place I go.” She blew out a breath of frustration as she dropped her sweater on the back of the sofa and walked over to the large window. “This place is lovely, Jerry. Every time I come, I think about how nice it would be to live here.”
“We can’t live here,” her husband said with a grunt.
She folded her arms, rocked back on her heels, and leveled him with a glare. “And why not?”
“This is where we go on vacation. If we moved here, where would we go when we wanna get away?”
Jerry held his breath until his mother rolled her eyes and tossed him a teasing look. “I guess we could go to Atlanta.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Harold said, the scowl on his face growing deeper.
“I’m just kidding. If we lived here, we wouldn’t have to go anywhere, because we’d always be on vacation.”
“Doesn’t work that way. Ya gotta go somewhere.”
Jerry finally stood and held up his hands to stop the two people he loved most from sniping at each other. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay? I don’t know what’s gotten into you two, but this is supposed to be relaxing.” He glanced back and forth at them. “And so far, it’s been anything but.”
His dad opened his mouth, but one piercing glare from Jerry stopped him. Harold clamped his jaw shut and hung his head. Jerry’s mother tilted her head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, son. I guess we’ve gotten into a bad habit of fussing at each other over silly little things.”
Harold frowned. “Who’re you calling silly?”
Jerry held up his hands to shush them. “Why don’t you two go for a short ride on the bicycle while I figure out what to do for dinner tonight?”
His mother’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re cooking?”
Jerry grinned back at her and nodded. “Yep. I took a cooking class so we could enjoy some meals here and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”
“I thought we’d go to Grouper’s Seafood Grill,” Jerry’s dad quipped. Rosemary shoved a fist onto her hip. “Last time we went there you said there was too much racket.”
Jerry’s dad made a face. “That was last time. I’m in the mood for a little fun tonight.” He did a little twist that made Jerry smile.
“Okay, so what’ll it be, folks? Eat here or out? I’m cool with whatever you two want to do.”
“In,” Rosemary said, beating her husband to the draw. “Since you went to all that trouble to learn how to cook, I think it’s only right for us to enjoy it.” She turned to scowl at her husband.
“Dad?”
His father grumbled a few seconds before finally nodding. “Whatever the two of you want. It’s never been my decision anyway. Don’t know why we should start now.”
Before going into the well-appointed galley-style kitchen to start dinner, he helped his parents into their new helmets. His dad reached up and tugged at the strap beneath his chin. Jerry tilted his head forward, issued a stern look, and lifted his eyebrows. When his dad let go of the strap, Jerry relaxed.
“Don’t be gone too long,” he said. “Mom, if you don’t recognize a street, don’t go down it. I don’t want you to get lost on our first day here.”
“We’re not children,” his father snapped.
“Oh, get over yourself, Harold. He’s just showing us he cares.” With that, Rosemary adjusted her helmet strap and took the lead. “Let’s go have some fun, Harold. Think you can remember what that means?”
“I know how to have fun,” he grumbled.
“Then stop acting like a ninny and show it.”
Jerry shook his head as his parents slammed the door shut behind them. In spite of all the griping and snappiness, he had no doubt his parents loved each other with all their hearts. It had to be frustrating to go from being active, productive people to dealing with the confines of aging.
Lord, please show me how to bring some joy into my parents’ lives. All I want is for them to be happy…no, make that content.
Amanda dropped some pens into the holder by the cash register and removed her night-deposit pouch. Lacy had called and asked her to pick up some sandwiches on the way home.
She’d phoned in her order so it would be ready when she arrived. The instant she walked out the door, she spotted an elderly couple on one of her bicycles—the tandem bike. The one Jerry had picked up that morning.
Chapter Two
Amanda stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds as the elderly couple rounded the corner, the woman on the front obviously controlling their course while the man on the back pedaled as though his life depended on it.
From where she stood, they appeared to be an attractive couple, but they weren’t the ones who’d rented the bike. She’d never even seen them before. Jerry hadn’t mentioned anyone else. She hesitated, thinking about getting their attention and saying something—but what? Who are you, and why are you on this bicycle? No, that wouldn’t be right. After all, she didn’t have any rules about not letting other people use the equipment.
She turned and quickly walked toward the sub shop, where she knew her order would be waiting. Before going inside, she cast another glance over her shoulder at the elderly couple.
After they rounded the corner, out of sight, she turned and shoved open the door to the sub shop. The guy at the counter grinned. “How’s the bicycle business?”
“Good,” she said. “Enjoying a little breather after a crazy tourist season.”
He laughed. “I know what you mean. I had to get help
this year, and you know how hard that is.”
“Oh yeah.”
He finished wrapping her sandwiches and shoved them into a plastic bag before placing it on the counter. “Here ya go, Amanda. Want chips with that?”
“Sure.” After paying, she dropped the bags of chips into the sack and headed for the exit. Soon she was right back out on the sidewalk, heading for home, which was a block and a half away.
As she stepped off the curb to cross the street, she heard the ringing of a bicycle bell behind her. “Hey, bicycle lady!”
The sound of a man’s raspy voice caught her attention, so she spun around—just in time to see her tandem bicycle heading straight for her. The woman on the front grinned as she applied the brakes to slow down.
Spurred by curiosity, she took a step toward them. “Did you call me?”
Both the man and the woman extended their legs and planted their feet on the road. The woman loosened her chin strap, removed the helmet, and exposed a thick mane of solid white, wavy hair. “Yes, that was my husband. Sorry he sounded so rude.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“My wife doesn’t like me very much anymore,” the man interrupted Amanda. “She’s always correcting me like I’m a child.”
The woman shot her husband a glance. “I do not.”
The man chuckled. “See? There ya go again. So what did you want to talk to the bicycle lady about? We just about broke our necks trying to catch up with her.”
Amanda smiled, in spite of the man’s tone of annoyance. “Is everything okay with the bicycle?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful,” the woman said as she leaned forward and extended her right hand. “I just wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Rosemary Simpson, and this is my husband, Harold.”
That explained it. These must be Jerry’s parents, she thought. “I’m Amanda Burns. It’s nice to meet you.” Amanda shook Mrs. Simpson’s hand.
“Our son never lets us go with him when he picks up the bicycle,” Mr. Simpson said, “but we’ve seen you through the window when we passed by your shop. Jerry said you’re the owner.” He grinned and belted out a belly laugh. “You’re even prettier up close.”