Matt paused, having difficulty proceeding any further. Phyllis didn’t help him out as she had before.
“A month later she was pregnant,” he said, avoiding Phyllis’s side of the room completely. He didn’t want to see if the expression in her eyes had changed. “She named me as the father.”
“But you never touched the girl!”
He glanced quickly over at her and away. She was still with him. His breathing came a little easier.
“She believes we slept together that day in my office.”
“But surely you could prove…”
Matt shook his head. “What could I prove? The things I was saying to her could’ve been misinterpreted to mean that there was more between us than I intended.”
“You were an adult. She was a child.”
Matt sent her a stare that brooked no argument. “Which is why, when the jury heard her testimony of the things I’d been saying to her, they sent me to prison.”
“It didn’t matter that you told them you’d never thought of her in those terms?”
Matt took a deep breath, his brows creased as he brooded over the honest answer to that question. Holding her gaze, he said, “I never for one second crossed the line to inappropriate feelings for a fourteen-year-old child. But in all honesty, I was maybe falling a bit in love with the woman I knew she could become someday.”
The kitchen was completely silent.
When Phyllis finally moved, it was to put her cup in the sink, grab his hand and tug gently. “Let’s go into the other room,” she said.
Though he had no idea why, Matt blindly went.
When they got to the living room, she turned off all but the Christmas-tree lights. They gave the warmest glow he’d ever seen. Almost like firelight with comforting flashes of color. A strange serenity spread through him as she pulled him over to the sofa with her and sat.
The woman was some kind of sorceress.
One Matt could easily become addicted to.
“I led her on.” His voice was hushed.
“Not intentionally. And not at all if she’d been rational. You can’t be blamed for her irrationality.”
“Yeah, try taking that to court.”
“Tell me the rest.”
He leaned into the couch, one ankle crossed over his knee and stared at the lights. “It was her word against mine. She claims she remembers waking up in my office a couple of times, remembers me sitting there, holding her shoulders, talking softly to her.”
“You were trying to wake her.”
“And at one point to get her to sit up.”
Again he went back to that day. And it was always the same. “Hindsight says I should’ve called someone in to sit with us. Hell,” he said harshly, “hindsight says I should’ve played the entire thing differently.”
“What, left her to rot in the hell that was her life?”
“Being pregnant at fourteen is a better alternative?”
“But you didn’t make her pregnant.”
Maybe not, but…
“If I hadn’t encouraged her to see herself as a desirable woman, chances are good she wouldn’t have turned to sex for the love and acceptance she needed.”
“But you didn’t know that.”
“And that’s the point. I had no business getting involved with her. I should’ve been the best damn teacher I knew how to be—and sent her to a counselor for the rest of it.”
“You were twenty-four years old, Matt.”
“Old enough to be accountable, as the jury quickly decided.” He paused, rubbed his hands on his thighs. “The best I can tell, Shelley must have dreamed that she and I slept together that day and then somehow the dream got mixed up with the bits of reality she remembers. Next thing I knew, I was being sent up for ten years to pay for a crime I only partially committed.”
Phyllis placed her hand on his. “You didn’t commit any crime at all. You cared. And in any book that counts, that will never be a crime. I can’t speak for the justice system, Matt, but any real judging is a judging of the heart, of intention and motivation.”
He looked into her eyes, so close to his own, and felt a soothing of the pain that had been festering inside him for six long years.
He wanted to kiss her. Needed to kiss her.
“So what happened?” she asked, bringing him gently back to earth, reminding him that kissing wasn’t what they were about.
“When the baby was six months old, old enough for a conclusive paternity test, it was proved that I wasn’t the father.”
Phyllis nodded. He knew he should look away. Had to look away. But not yet. The warmth surrounding him was so new, so foreign, so compelling that he couldn’t deny himself just yet.
“The case went back to trial…”
“I’m surprised that was even necessary with such conclusive proof.”
“Technically I wasn’t in prison for impregnating Shelley. I was doing time for statutory rape, and just because Shelley had been with someone else didn’t mean she hadn’t also been with me.”
“But obviously that was proved, as well.”
Matt shook his head. “Not really. Not completely. But because the first time around, Shelley had sworn that she hadn’t been with anyone else, my attorney was able to discredit her testimony enough to put doubt in the jurors’ minds. Because of that doubt, I was set free.”
“And since you weren’t conclusively cleared of guilt, you could no longer do your job in that district.”
“Or in the entire city, or probably in any other public-school system. Something like that marks a man.”
“In more ways than one.”
Matt frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It marked you publicly, but the marks it made inside you are even worse, aren’t they?”
He didn’t say anything, wasn’t at all comfortable with her insights. And yet… A couple of times now she’d been able to take his experiences and turn them around, reveal a whole new aspect, so they no longer resembled the burden he’d been carrying. She’d bought him some freedom. Still…
“I hold myself accountable for my actions,” he said stubbornly.
“And your actions show very clearly that you’re a good man who, out of youth and idealism, made a couple of calls that weren’t the best. But they’re calls you’ve never made again. There’ve been no repeat performances in all these years.”
He’d made damn sure there weren’t.
And maybe that was exactly what she was talking about. He was so used to seeing himself as the man who’d made those bad calls that maybe he’d been blind to the man he’d become. And yet, he remained accountable for those bad calls. Was still paying the price. Both metaphorically and literally.
“I think Shelley really believes we had sex that day.”
“Because she needs to, maybe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Matt. If someone like you wanted her, she’d feel a whole lot better about herself than if it was just some scum on the street, some guy who’d sleep with a fourteen-year-old.”
He considered the idea. And released a heavy sigh as something else finally fell into place for him.
“You know,” he said, “all these years I’ve never been able to understand something that suddenly makes perfect sense.”
“What’s that?”
“When all this first started I asked Shelley why, if she cared about me so much, she’d do this to me, get me into so much trouble, when all I was trying to do was help her.
“She said because more than she needed me, she needed a father for her baby.”
“And whoever the other guy was, he wasn’t father material,” Phyllis added. “Even in prison, you were father material.”
And out of it, too, according to Shelley. But at least now he understood. The kid hadn’t turned her back on all he’d done for her. She’d just been desperate to take care of herself. It changed nothing; the facts were still the facts. And yet, in some way, e
verything had changed.
When Matt looked for the self-loathing that was as much a part of him as his heart and lungs, he couldn’t find it.
Phyllis leaned over, bringing her mouth slowly, tenderly, to his.
The woman was a miracle worker. A sorceress, just as he’d thought.
IT WAS THURSDAY after work.
He was going to be there any minute.
Phyllis commanded herself to concentrate on the paper she was grading—one of about twenty term papers she had to get through before the following afternoon—the last day of school before the winter break.
Her job was the important thing.
Not Matt Sheffield, biological father of her kids and temporary handyman.
No matter what a great guy he was, what a terrific human being, what a spectacular kisser, no matter how much it had meant having him there while she decorated her tree, he wasn’t important to her.
He couldn’t be.
The phone on her desk in the corner of her living room rang, and Phyllis stared at it, thinking about picking it up. It could be Matt saying he wasn’t coming.
And that would be a good thing.
“Hello?”
“Hey, stranger, you okay?”
“Becca?”
“Yeah, I’m getting worried about you. I’ve only seen you once since the shower, and that was a month ago.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Bec,” Phyllis said, sinking back in her chair with a grin. A good dose of Becca was just what she needed. “It’s been a busy semester, but that’s no excuse. I’ve missed you.”
“We miss you, too. Bethany’s growing so fast you aren’t going to recognize her. She’s got all four bottom teeth and two top ones.”
Ouch. Phyllis cringed for her honorary niece. “She’s had a tough month.”
“Yeah, but we all survived. So, how was Thanksgiving at the Montfords’?” Becca asked.
“Great. I didn’t stay that long.” She’d been too sick, had spent most of the day between her bathroom and her bed. “Cassie’s sure happy, though. It was great to see her in the center of such an adoring family.”
“It’s about time.”
Polishing the base of the phone with her forefinger, Phyllis said, “For Sam and Mariah, too, I’d say.”
They spent a few more minutes talking about their mutual friends. And then…
“So, how are you really?” Becca asked.
“Fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Just really busy.”
“Will and I were wondering if you’d like to come here for Christmas dinner. We’re having his family over around one and we just won’t be complete if you don’t join us.”
Everyone in this town was so sweet to her. She might live alone, but she wasn’t without family. On the contrary, she had several families from which to choose.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “I’m having a couple of people over here for Christmas.”
“You are?” Becca sounded surprised, but not unhappy. “Who? Tory and Ben? I thought they were going to the Montfords’.”
“They are.” Phyllis nodded her head, although no one was there to see. “They invited me along, too.”
“So who’s coming to your place?”
“Matt Sheffield, for one. You know him?”
“Know of him is more like it,” Becca said, sounding impressed. “I’ve invited that man over more times than I can count in the four years he’s been in town. How’d you manage to actually get him to say yes?”
“I’ve been talking with one of his students for him—a girl who’s a bit troubled. She’s staying in town for Christmas and we’re having her over.”
“Okay, then, but we’ll still see you sometime during the holiday, right?” Becca asked. “We have to exchange our gifts.”
“Of course we’ll get together,” Phyllis said. “I’ll give you a call over the weekend.”
“And you’ll be coming to the annual holiday open house, right?” Becca asked. “I’m really glad we moved it from Christmas to New Year’s. So many more people can come.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Phyllis said, remembering last year’s party, how warm and full she’d felt, being accepted and included in the families of Shelter Valley. She’d spent much of the time playing with Bethany, who’d been just under six months old. And worrying about Tory and Ben—who’d canceled at the last minute when Ben was suddenly granted complete custody of Alex.
Warmed by her friend’s obvious caring, Phyllis decided it was time to tell Becca and everyone else about the babies. She was three and a half months along—had made it through the first trimester and gone almost two weeks without bleeding.
And when they asked who the father was?
She’d just have to—
The doorbell rang.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PHYLLIS KNEW WHO was there. Heart pounding, she sat in her chair and tried to wipe the memory of the last five minutes of Matt’s visit the previous night from her mind. Like an idiot she’d kissed him. Full on the mouth.
And it hadn’t been a consoling kiss, or a friendly kiss, she thought, heading for the door when the bell rang a second time. This kiss had been hot and hungry. Like the kisses in the sound booth that day in September. The kisses that had led to the babies she was now carrying inside her.
But she and Matt were older now than they’d been three months before. Older and wiser. They’d broken off last night’s kiss simultaneously and then, as if by mutual consent, he’d left before either of them could say anything about it.
Surely they could put it behind them…
Pulling open her door, she schooled her face into what she hoped was a noncommittal smile. “Hi, come on in,” she said just as she had almost every night for the past two weeks. Tonight, though, instead of meeting his eyes, she looked past his left shoulder. Still, she was proud of how normal she sounded. Even if she felt anything but.
“Have a good day?” Matt asked, striding by her and into the kitchen to collect the trash. He didn’t look at her, either.
Ugh.
“Yeah.” As usual, she followed him. “You?”
“Fine.” He pulled out a fresh garbage bag and lined her kitchen waste container before taking the partially full bag around the house to the various containers in other rooms. “Sophie’s really glad to be joining us for Christmas dinner,” he said when he returned to the kitchen, twisting the bag and securing it with a tie.
“Good.”
He went out back to deposit the bag. He still hadn’t looked at her.
She’d looked at him, though. A huge mistake.
He was wearing his maroon leather jacket. It was her favorite because of the way it came in tight at his waist. And the jeans he wore had not only seen many washings but knew just how to mold themselves to his tight butt.
Must be pregnancy hormones that were making her insides quake. Phyllis had learned to control her emotions long ago.
“I noticed a big box in the nursery,” he said, entering the house, locking the back door behind him.
“Christmas presents I ordered through the Internet.”
“Tell me you didn’t carry it in there.”
“I didn’t.” She was staring over his shoulder again. “I was here when they delivered it, and the guy was nice enough to carry it back for me.”
“So, you need help getting it unpacked?” He stood in a familiar position, his fingers tucked into the front pockets of his jeans.
Phyllis usually noticed the fingers. Tonight she couldn’t tear her eyes from the bulge they accentuated as they pulled the fabric taut.
“Maybe just opened,” she said.
She had to get rid of him. Before she did something she’d really regret. Like beg him to stay. To join her in the bedroom. Or on the couch. Or even the floor.
Taking a knife from the kitchen, Matt went back to the spare room, which was now almost empty. He had the box open in no time and each of the pack
ages out and lying neatly on top of the dresser that was still in the room.
They were mostly toys for Bethany. And Alex and Mariah.
“We’re going to have to talk about it.”
Phyllis’s gaze flew to Matt’s. His words had startled her. Panicked her.
“Can’t we just pretend it never happened?”
He held her gaze, his far more steady and sure than hers. “I don’t know,” he said. “Can you do that?”
Phyllis looked away. She couldn’t stand there, catching glimpses of the man inside him, and lie.
“I can’t, either,” he said.
The words were too soft, too unlike him, for her comfort.
“Should we, um, go in the living room?” she asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to return to the scene of the crime, but she had to sit down. He nodded and followed her there.
Phyllis sank into an armchair as soon as they reached the room.
Matt paced in front of her for a moment then sat on the edge of the couch, facing her. His knees were spread, his forearms on his thighs. His face, though lined with what looked like concentration, seemed more peaceful somehow.
Her stomach tensed. Her neck tensed. For the first time in more than a week, she felt as if she was going to throw up.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since last night.”
Phyllis merely nodded.
“You’ve given me a whole new way of looking at certain events in my life, a new understanding….”
“You’re a good man, Matt Sheffield, one who deserves a full and complete life.”
“It’s going to take more than a day or two to change almost nine years of conditioning, but the thing is, I can’t escape the possibility that you may be right. That with hard work and awareness, I may be able to have more of a life than I’d envisioned.”
Tears sprang to Phyllis’s eyes. Every bit of discomfort she’d put herself through last night—every night since she’d met him—was worth those two sentences he’d just uttered. “I’m glad,” she told him. “So glad.”
“And the logical conclusion following the first is that maybe I’ve found that life. Or it’s found me.”
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