Jason opened his mouth to try to get Laura off the hook. But she put her purse down. “Sure I can,” she said.
“Wait a minute,” Jason complained teasingly, setting Matt on his feet. “I’m usually good enough to check the monsters for you.”
Jason shook his head at him. “But you came home from the class all tired and everything. If there is a monster, you can’t fight it off. But she’s got her Power Ranger stuff on.” He pointed to her tights and leotards.
“So there,” Laura said to Jason under her breath as Matt took her hand and led her away.
Jason watched them go, a curious hitch in his breathing pattern.
“Way to go, Dad!” Eric said in a loud whisper the moment Laura was out of sight. He slapped Jason on the back.
“Yeah!” Adam added with the same grin of approval. “She’s really a babe! I didn’t think you could.” Realizing he was getting himself into trouble, Adam tried to rephrase his observation. “I mean, I thought you were too old…”
Mercilessly, Jason stared at him, letting him talk himself out onto a limb.
Adam smiled nervously. “What I meant was, I thought you were too cool to notice girls. Women. Pretty women. Young, pretty women.” His smile widened. “You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”
Jason folded his arms. “I’m undecided. You do make good coffee, and you didn’t rat on me when I pretended you couldn’t.”
Adam smiled modestly. “I guess you’re pretty lucky to have me.”
“Okay, we’ll say that’s true. But it’s also true that Laura is just my exercise instructor.”
“Like your personal trainer!”
“No. Not personal. There are about a dozen other ladies in the class.”
Eric laughed. “Ladies?”
Jason turned his glare on him. But Eric was irrepressible. “You mean, you actually showed up in front of girls in—” he pointed to Jason’s attire of ratty sweat bottoms and T-shirt “—in that?”
“Serious fitness freaks,” Jason said, carrying cups to the dishwasher, “dress for comfort and mobility, not for style.”
“Then Laura’s not a serious fitness freak?”
Eric’s expression was innocent, but Jason knew better than to believe it. Adam was grinning in support of his brother.
“All right, so I’d need some new gear if I was going to continue with the class,” Jason admitted. He opened the dishwasher and put the cups in. Adam rinsed his cup and handed it to Jason. Eric went back to the coffee table by the television for his.
“You should keep going to the class, Dad,” Adam encouraged under his breath. “I mean…we want you to get healthy, right?”
Adam looked mildly worried. Jason sighed and nodded. There’d been moments that night when death would have been preferable to one more exercise-but not when he considered his children.
“Yeah, we do.”
“Okay. ‘Cause I’m not raising these guys. Anything happens to you, I take them to the nerd museum and I’m out of here.”
“Really.” Jason studied his oldest Adam rode his siblings mercilessly, but he’d once retrieved Eric’s milk money from bullies, sustaining two shiners in the process, and still managing to collect extra for “pain and suffering.” Another time he’d waded into a pack of dogs to rescue Matt. It turned out the dogs had been more interested in the bologna sandwich Matt held than in Matt himself, but Adam hadn’t known that when he’d barged in. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”
“Yeah, well, you’d better take care of yourself. And, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“When you go to buy something else to wear to Laura’s class—” he patted his shoulder pityingly “—make sure you take me with you.”
3
It is difficult to tell a child there is nothing to fear in the darkness when your own is filled with loneliness. I’ve decided this is one of those rare moments in parenting when one is allowed to lie.
—“Warfield’s Battles”
In Matt’s room, a messy little haven decorated in red, white and blue with an army of toy soldiers marching across the wallpaper, Laura checked the closet for-monsters, looked behind the chair and under the bed.
Matt waited for a report in the middle of dark blue sheets and a coverlet that matched the wallpaper.
She went over to the edge of his bed. “Not a sign of monsters,” she said, as she fluffed the pillow behind him. “The moon’s coming up, so they won’t be out tonight because someone would see them.”
He leaned back against the pillow as she pulled the blankets up. “My dad says they don’t come out when it rains or snows, either, ‘cause they don’t like to get wet.”
She nodded, tucking the blankets in. She imagined Jason had made that up one rainy or snowy night to ease Matt’s mind. Monsters, real or imagined, could only be handled day by day.
“That’s probably why you never see them around here,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed.
He frowned at her. “Why?”
“Because they don’t like to get wet, and the ocean’s spray is flying all the time. Monsters don’t like the coast.”
He folded skinny little arms over the top of the blanket, considering that. “Bui I hear them sometimes. ‘Specially after me and Adam and Eric watch scary movies. I think they like to come around then and see what they look like on TV.”
Laura bit back a smile. “Well, the next time you think you hear one, you just make your voice really big and say, “Monster, go away. This is Matt Warfield and I eat my vegetables and I don’t want you to bother me ‘cause I’m stronger than you are.”
He looked worried rather than comforted. “But I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Eat my vegetables. At least not all the time. So the monsters are maybe stronger than me.”
“Hmm.” She patted his hand. “Well, you can fix that by starting to eat your vegetables tomorrow. You’ll start to get stronger right away. And, of course, there’s every chance that the monster could be friendly.”
He made a face that suggested that wasn’t possible. Then he sighed. “I wish the Power Rangers lived next door, then I could just yell out the window if I needed help.” He leaned up on an elbow to study her closely. “Are you their big sister?” He pointed to her leotard. “You wear the same stuff. ‘Cept you don’t have the helmet and the glasses.”
She laughed lightly, imagining her long-sleeved, formfitting Lycra probably did look like superhero wear. “No, I’m not their big sister, but you know what?”
“What?”
“You have a dad and two big brothers who I’m sure wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
He nodded agreement, then sighed again. “Yeah. They’re big and brave. But I still get scared.”
She smoothed his hair and smiled. “It’s okay to be scared. Everybody is sometimes.”
He kicked a foot out under the blankets. “You, too?”
“Sure.”
That caught his interest. “What are you scared of?”
Laura leaned down to kiss his cheek. “That I’ll never have a little boy as special as you are.”
He hugged her and she hugged him back, experiencing a sweetness that seemed curiously composed of pain. “Maybe you can borrow me sometime,” he suggested practically.
“That sounds like a great idea.” She stood, tucked his feet in, then blew him a kiss. “Bye.”
“Bye,” he called back. She left the door partially open and returned to the kitchen. The older boys had settled onto the sofa, and Jason had hitched a hip on the back of it as they all watched the ball game. He stood when he heard her footsteps.
Laura shouldered her purse and went toward him, feeling as though something had changed in her reality in the last hour. She felt disoriented, rattled.
It was this room, she thought, feeling strangely deflated. Darkness had fallen now, and the glow of the lamp was particularly warming, the sight of the boys sprawled at opposite ends of the sofa was cozy,
the memory of Matt tucked up in his bed somehow comforting.
The out-of-harmony note, she realized, was Jason. And it wasn’t that he didn’t fit the room. He was tall, big, handsome and smiling—everything a woman could want in a man to share her home fire. As he watched her approach, hands lightly on his hips, she thought he embodied the protection, comfort and companionship the room offered.
But not for her. Those qualities in a man were always so inviting, then so painful when finally withdrawn.
She saw his eyes note something in her expression that concerned him. So she put on a smile.
“Thank you for the tea,” she said, extending her hand. “And for the pleasure of your boys’ company. Good night, Adam. Good night, Eric.”
The boys turned from the television to say good-night, then turned back as the crowd cheered and the announcer shouted excitedly.
She reached down to pet the dog, who rolled over in adoration. Laura laughed and gently thumped his chest. “Good night, Buttercup.”
She straightened and went to the door. Jason reached around her to pull it open.
“Matt’s tucked in,” she said chattily as he walked her to the Explorer in the glare of a spotlight on the driveway. The night, she noticed absently, smelled of heather and the sea. “He wants the Power Rangers to move in next door.”
He laughed, stopping beside her as she opened her door. “Adam and Eric were hoping for the women from ‘Bay watch.”‘
She smiled, thinking it amazing that he seemed so relaxed about his life when what he faced—now that she’d seen it for herself—seemed monumental to her.
“Don’t forget to get into the hot tub,” she reminded, tossing her purse into the car.
“Right.” He held the door for her as she slipped in behind the wheel. “Same time Wednesday?” he asked.
She experienced a distinct thrill at the prospect of seeing him again. Great, she thought, trying to fight it. She was attracted. This didn’t happen to her that often, but every time it did, she ended up regretting it. Well, she’d accept the situation and simply not do anything about it.
Attraction could be ignored.
“Yes,” she replied amiably. “Same time.”
Jason pushed the button that locked her doors and leaned in to smile at her.
“Thanks for the ride home,” he said. “And for putting Matt to bed.”
She couldn’t help the answering smile brought on by thoughts of Matt. “That was a pleasure I wouldn’t have missed for anything.”
Their smiles connected. Then everything else seemed to connect—their eyes, their total attention, his hand to her shoulder. After one heady moment, he leaned his upper body free of the car. “Good night,” he said, and closed her door.
She felt as though she had to gasp for air as she drove away.
Jason sat in the hot tub, arms hooked over the rim, water swirling over his nakedness, soothing his abused muscles and easing the tension he felt over the realization that he was attracted to Laura Price.
He hadn’t experienced serious attraction since he’d met Lucy, but that had been powerful stuff, and it had changed his entire life.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for that to happen again. Life was fairly satisfying at the moment. The boys were doing well, his career was affording him a measure of celebrity that continued to surprise him, and he answered to no one but an understanding editor and a publisher who was particularly indulgent now that his first book, a collection of his columns, had made the New York Times bestseller list.
Life was good.
Jason shifted to stretch his legs and felt the warm water ripple over his body. He was smart enough to know, he thought, that though life was good, there was something substantial missing.
It wasn’t sex. Well, that was missing, too, and though sometimes the lack of it did feel huge, he’d found that he could get along without it, at least while his life was filled with impressionable children who made discretion impossible.
He missed…romance. He missed nuzzles, touches, glances that made promises. He missed being surprised by a phone call or a kiss or a carefully chosen present. He missed the light, sweet sounds that just couldn’t be found in a house filled exclusively with men. He missed perfume. Walking into a room to find fresh flowers there. Finding a rose in his pencil cup.
He felt suddenly as though the whole struggle of the last four years to stabilize his sanity and find a way to go on had just crumbled beneath him. He missed Lucy with an ache that was alarmingly fresh. Tears bit his eyes and his throat swelled.
And it was all Laura Price’s fault.
4
It’s a revelation to me that dating is no different when you’re thirty-seven than it is when you’re seventeen-except that you don’t have to put on acne cream before you go or return the car to your parents when you come home.
—“Warfield’s Battles”
Wednesday Jason went to hell.
He thought he’d gone to exercise class, but somewhere along the way he must have taken a wrong turn. Nothing else would account for the demons stretching his body, poking it with pins, pinching it with hot pincers.
But he was in a bad mood, anyway, so he made himself endure the exhaustion of the aerobic workout, then the excruciating interminability of the floor work.
Laura Price might have stirred him into an emotional turmoil, but he had control of his body, damn it. And it
would do push-ups no matter how his muscles screamed at him.
Philly cheered him on.
“That’s the way, Jason,” she said, her own voice strained and breathless. “Hating her is the only way to get through it.”
That was precisely what he was doing, he realized, as Laura, all in black today, finally began the cool-down exercises looking almost as fresh as she had when they’d done warm-ups.
Of course, Philly didn’t know that he was angry with Laura not only for the brutality of her workout, but for the insidious memory she’d planted in him of images of her presence in his kitchen, of laughing with Eric and Adam, of walking hand in hand with Matt toward his room.
He’d thought about her all day yesterday when he should have been working. And he’d thought about her today when he’d felt sure the newness would have worn off.
He’d thought hating her would help. But it didn’t.
He watched her sitting cross-legged on the stage, turning her head in a slow circle as mellow music played and she called instructions to the class. But all he could think about was how perfect her body was, how much distance there was between himself and the stage.
And it was more than a physical distance. He remembered clearly that even a near-perfect relationship required constant give-and-take. He wasn’t sure he could do that again. He was accustomed to doing what he wanted when he wanted to without consulting anyone.
He had to consider the boys, of course, but that was on an adult-child basis. It didn’t require the same considerations. He wasn’t a despotic parent by any means, but there he was in charge.
This was only attraction, anyway; he didn’t know why he was putting so much analysis into it.
When the music finally stopped and the class applauded itself, Jason carried his mat to the stack with everyone else and got cheerful greetings and congratulations for coming back.
Laura appeared after he’d toweled off and changed his shirt. Only a few stragglers remained at the door.
“Need a ride?” she asked. She carried her purse, her gym bag and a large shopping bag.
He smiled briefly, wishing he did. But he’d deliberately brought the car so that he wouldn’t need a ride, because when he’d left the house he’d still been angry at her. He’d worked it out over the last hour and fifteen minutes, and now he wanted nothing more than to be confined with her in her Explorer.
He made a rueful face. “No, thanks. I drove tonight.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes, then was gone. “Good idea.” Then she held up the shopping bag on the
tips of her fingers. “Would you give these to the boys?”
“My boys?” He peered inside and saw one brightly wrapped package and one large, round tin.
“Yes.” She slung her gym bag onto her other arm. “The present’s for Matt. We had a discussion about Power Rangers.”
“You didn’t buy him one.”
“Not exactly. And the tin has some healthy treats in it for them to have with their cocoa tonight.”
He shouldered his gear, carried the bag in one arm and followed her to the door. “Thank you,” he said, feeling somewhat at a loss. He judged from that brief flash in her eyes a moment ago that she’d wanted to take him home. “Want to join us for cocoa?”
She shook her head. A student drove off with a tap of her horn, and Laura evaded his gaze by turning to wave at her. When she looked back at him again, her expression was carefully neutral, her smile in place.
“No, thank you. I’m going back to the office to catch up on paperwork. But tell the boys I said hello.”
“Sure.”
She was gone before he could shout after her that he would see her on Friday.
“Wow!” Matt pulled what appeared to be yards of fabric out of his gift box on the kitchen table. Adam and Eric, holding chocolate brownies, gawked over his shoulder.
Jason peered closer and saw that it was a bed-sheet set complete with pillow case, bath towel and washcloth—in a Power Rangers pattern.
Matt was beside himself and ran for his bedroom, the fitted sheet held over his head and billowing behind him like a cape.
Adam looked puzzled. “Sheets are a weird present.”
But Jason understood. Matt told him he’d shared his fears with her and that she’d told him everyone was afraid sometimes. This gift was intended to convince him that even alone in the darkness of his bedroom, he had the added power and protection of his revered friends-the Power Rangers.
Jason was touched by the thoughtfulness and the charming cleverness of the gesture.
The Heart of the Matter Page 5