by Susan Fox
Brooke’s eyes—blue green but a different shade than his, a color that had always made him think of a tropical ocean on a travel poster—were fixed on his face and he thought he read compassion in them. “The police at the door was my wake-up call, too,” she said quietly. “I was still a terrible mother, but I never again hit Evan. He was uncoordinated, bumped into things and tripped over his own feet, but from that point on, none of his bruises came from me.”
There was a long silence. Near Mo, Maribeth sat back in her chair, sipping from a mug of tea, listening but not intervening. Jess pressed her fingers to her temples as if she was fighting a headache.
Mo took a breath and then addressed Jess again. “Yeah, I ran away, abandoning my wife and son. I had a history of running when things got too tough for me to handle. When I didn’t want to face consequences. Did Brooke tell you about the army?”
“Yes. So did her parents and sister, who’ve been here to visit. You deserted. You skipped the country, you and Brooke had to cut all ties with your families, and you can never return to the States.” Jess didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic, and there was no reason she should.
Mo found himself quite liking this young woman who was willing to listen to him but wouldn’t cut him any slack.
“Actually, I did go back,” he said, and told her about the lawyer who’d represented him and how he’d been given an administrative discharge.
Brooke leaned forward. “Mo, I didn’t know that.”
“Sorry. Guess I should’ve got in touch and told you. But I figured so much time had passed, and we were divorced, so my, uh, legal status wouldn’t really affect yours.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Just that . . . well, I’m glad you did it. That you faced up to what you’d done.” She took a breath and then said hesitantly, “I asked my parents about your family, but they said they lost touch right after we left.”
“I tracked down my sister on the Internet,” he told her. “She’s married with two children and is co-owner of a catering business. Our mother died fifteen or so years back. Dad remarried—a divorced woman with a couple of kids. He’s retired now. I e-mail with my sister now and then, and my dad maybe once a year.”
He glanced at Jess and Maribeth. “Sorry for the sidetrack.” And then back to Brooke. “I’m glad you’ve made things up with your family.”
“Me, too. Say hi to your sister and dad from me, the next time you’re in touch.”
“Mo.” The firm voice was Jess’s, and he turned to look at her.
“A sidetrack?” she said. “Not exactly. Do you realize you’re talking about Evan’s aunt and grandfather?”
His mouth fell open. “Uh, I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Obviously.” Her eyes narrowed again.
Mo didn’t think she’d even picked up her coffee mug, she’d been so intent on watching him and listening to him. Now he waited with trepidation to see what she’d say next.
“You ran away from two families,” Jess said, “and from the army. Now you’ve sort of come back. The army discharged you, so you’re done with them. You have occasional e-mail contact with your family, and that’s it. And now here you are in Caribou Crossing, wanting what? Absolution or something? To turn yourself in, like with the army, and say you’re sorry, and then get some official ‘it’s okay, it’s in the past’ discharge kind of thing? So you can go away again?”
“Uh . . .” That had been a lot of words, a lot to take in and process. A lot to think about. But those clear brown eyes were fixed on him, expecting an answer. Now.
“You haven’t thought it through,” Jess said.
The army had been easier to deal with than this one slender woman.
“No, I guess I haven’t. What’s been in my mind these past years is how badly I treated Evan and Brooke. I didn’t—don’t—want to mess up their lives any more than I’ve already done. But I do want them to know that I realize how bad I behaved and that I am truly sorry.”
“And I appreciate that,” Brooke said, her voice so soft and compassionate after Jess’s judgmental tone. “You and I were immature and screwed up and we had an unhealthy dynamic. It’s good for me to be able to talk to you about those days and the mistakes we both made, and to know that you’ve shouldered your share of the blame.”
“But Evan doesn’t deserve any of the blame,” Jess said implacably. “So it’s a different situation. How will it help him to talk to you?”
“Maybe it’ll give him a chance to vent some anger,” Mo said. “And to know how rotten I feel.”
Maribeth spoke quietly. “Perhaps Evan would like to know that his father cares about him.”
Mo shot her a surprised look. She’d been so quiet up until now. Her understanding smile was a small shaft of warmth and comfort that soothed his frazzled nerves.
Brooke spoke next. “Evan had many things to blame me for, too, Jess. But look how close the two of us are now. And you know that it’s largely due to you. You believed in me, and you helped open Evan’s mind to giving me a second chance.”
“But I knew you, Brooke. I’d seen you turn your life around. I’d seen you stick with A.A., stay on your meds, reinvent yourself as a responsible citizen. Year by year.”
“One day at a time,” Brooke said. “And those days turned into years. Well, Mo’s done the same thing over the past years. It’s just that we haven’t been around to see it.”
“Thanks, Brooke,” he said. “It’s more than I deserve, having you on my side.”
She gave a short laugh. “I wasn’t on your side all those years ago—despite the vows I swore when we got married. Maybe if I’d been supportive rather than bitching all the time, we’d have done better.”
Finally, Jess picked up her coffee mug. “I’m so confused.” She took a sip and made a face. “And I’ve let my coffee go cold.”
“The pot’s still on,” Maribeth said. “I’ll get you a fresh cup. Brooke, could you pour more tea for us? Mo, another glass of San Pellegrino?”
“Thanks,” he said.
As Maribeth left the room, Mo turned again to Jess. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do a better sales pitch for myself, but the truth is that I’m confused, too. But you can believe me when I say I haven’t had a drink in years, I never get violent, and I try never to hurt anyone. I would never want to hurt Evan again.”
She nodded slowly. “You sound sincere when you say that. But what if Brooke and I can persuade him to talk to you and it doesn’t go well? Yeah, he’s angry. And hurt. Let’s say he does vent all of that, and says he won’t forgive you and he never wants to see you again. What then? Will you tell yourself you’ve given it your best shot, and run away again?”
He considered for a moment. “No. No, I won’t. It would be like abandoning him all over again. Even if he tells me to get lost, I’ll stick around. Try to be patient, to show him that this—that he—matters to me. I’d try to get him to give me another chance.” Mo noticed Maribeth hovering in the doorway, apparently not wanting to step into the room and interrupt the conversation.
Jess nodded slowly. “Okay, let’s say that Evan does eventually get there and agrees to having a relationship with you. Then what about the rest of us? How do we fit in?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“How about me? What about Evan’s and my children, Robin and little Alex? Then there’s Brooke’s new husband and their daughter. My parents. Robin’s other dad, Dave, and his wife. Robin’s other grandparents. We’re a”—she glanced at Brooke, and the two women exchanged grins—“big, messy family.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m kind of getting that. It’s not something I’d thought about, to be honest. I hurt Evan and Brooke, and they were the two people on my mind. The two people I wanted to . . . well, try to make things right with, if that’s possible.” Thinking past those two people to all these other circles of family was baffling and overwhelming. He still couldn’t get his mind around the idea that he was a
grandfather. “There’s no reason I need to be part of anyone else’s life.”
Jess leaned forward. “But don’t you want to? Don’t you want to know your grandchildren?”
They were simple words, but the concept was too big to comprehend. Gruffly, he said, “I’m no good with kids. They’re better off without me.”
* * *
Maribeth, standing in the doorway listening, almost dropped the mug and glass as a pang stabbed through her. Was that really how Mo felt about children? Or did his comment come from a place of inexperience, a sense of failure, a fear of not measuring up?
Was she crazy to be spending time with him? He’d been telling her pretty clearly how he saw himself—as a man who trod lightly, one who didn’t want connections.
She didn’t want to believe that he was right. She’d felt that click, both physical and something deeper, the one she’d been waiting for all her life. Mo might not have wanted a connection, but there was one. At least for her. It had led her to champion his cause with Brooke, and to set up this meeting with Jess. It had led her into bed with him, for something that went way further than just great sex.
Although she’d selected a sperm donor, she had postponed getting inseminated in hopes that things would work out between her and Mo. She was emotionally involved with him. More, much more, than with any man before. Was she falling in love?
But if the things he’d said were really true, then he couldn’t be the love of her life and she couldn’t let herself fall for him. She truly believed there was more to Mo than what he seemed to see in himself. But even if she was right, would he ever be willing to take a deeper look into his own heart? This was all so confusing. If he was her one true love, everything was supposed to fall seamlessly into place, not be such a mess.
Uncertain, moving quietly, she stepped into the room just as Jess pinned Mo with one of her level gazes and said, “Better off without you? Why? Would you hit them?”
Maribeth barely managed to suppress a gasp.
“God, no!” Mo said. “I just meant, I have nothing to offer them.”
Steadying herself, Maribeth handed the mug of coffee to Jess.
The younger woman took it absentmindedly, still staring at Mo. “You’re a mechanic,” Jess said. “Little Alex loves his toy trucks. Play with him and he’d be happy.”
Maribeth handed the orange San Pellegrino to Mo and said, “You ride. Robin’s as horse-crazy as her mom, and she’s an excellent rider.”
“Yes,” Jess said, “You could go riding with her. She’d love to give you some pointers.” She took a sip of coffee. “They’re kids, Mo. You don’t have to give them a lot, just your time and, um, attention.”
Maribeth guessed that Jess had been going to say “love,” but stopped herself, figuring—and rightly so—that it would be too much for Mo to deal with.
“I guess I could do that,” Mo said slowly. “Yeah, I’d like to. If Evan agrees.”
Maribeth let out a slow breath, her body relaxing. No, Mo’s reservations about kids weren’t absolute. If he got to know his grandchildren, he’d be bound to love them. And that would surely make him more amenable to having another child of his own.
Brooke said, “Maribeth, I poured tea for you. Now, Mo, why not tell Jess what you’ve been doing since you left Caribou Crossing.”
A less emotion-packed topic, and Maribeth was grateful to Brooke for lowering the tension level. She drank peach ginger tea and listened as Mo gave the condensed version, ending with his job as manager of an auto repair shop in Regina.
“Brooke says you’re working at Hennessey’s?” Jess said.
“I worked for Hank a long time ago, and he was good enough to take me back.”
“He can sure use the help,” Maribeth chimed in. “He’s getting on in years. My parents used to take their car to his garage.”
“He told me he had his sixty-fifth birthday a couple months back,” Mo said. “And he has cut back on his time since I got here. He says he likes the work and doesn’t want to give it up, but yeah, he gets tired. And he’s got kids and grandkids he wants to spend time with.”
Jess raised her eyebrows at that, but didn’t comment.
“Where are you living, Mo?” Brooke asked. “You said you rented a studio apartment?”
He turned to her. “Yeah, it’s in a house. My landladies are two retired teachers, Ms. Haldenby and Ms. Peabody.”
“Oh, Ms. Haldenby,” Jess said. “Man, she was tough. Wasn’t she, Maribeth?”
“She sure was. But in a good way. She taught us a lot.”
Mo glanced from one to the other. “You two weren’t in the same class? I mean, Jess is . . .”
“Yes, considerably younger,” Maribeth said dryly. “But we all had Ms. Haldenby for fourth grade.”
“Evan was in my class,” Jess said. “You’re staying in his teacher’s house, Mo. Did you realize that? Does Ms. Haldenby know?”
Maribeth’s mouth opened. She should have put two and two together, but hadn’t until Jess did it for her.
“I didn’t realize,” Mo said slowly. “I don’t think she does either. Kincaid’s not that unusual a last name. When I rented the room, I just said I was new in town and working for Hank Hennessey. I didn’t say anything about Brooke or Evan. That was, you know, private.”
And it could remain private, Maribeth supposed. Mo was seeing Brooke at her house, not out in public. He could do the same with Evan, if his son ever agreed to talk to him. If Mo didn’t get involved with their families, no one else really needed to know. But if he did . . .
“Have you told your parents about Mo being back?” she asked Jess.
“Not yet.” Her friend looked troubled. “And I don’t feel good about it. I also don’t feel good that I didn’t tell Evan the truth about tonight, only that I was hanging out with you and Brooke.”
“Why didn’t you?” Maribeth asked.
“Because he’d have asked me not to do it,” Jess said. “Oh, I will tell him, because we don’t keep secrets. But I wanted to tell him after, once I’d had a chance to listen to Mo.” She frowned at Mo. “I deceived my husband because of you.”
He gazed steadily at her. “I’m sorry. But I thank you for coming. And Brooke as well. And you, Maribeth, for inviting us here.”
Jess turned her penetrating gaze on Maribeth. “Yeah, what’s that about, MB? What’s your part in all of this?”
They were close friends and had shared lots of girl talk. How much to tell her here, now? “I guess I was pretty much the second person in town that Mo met, after Hank. I was picking up my car and happened to mention Brooke. Mo told me who he was and what he wanted to do, and asked my opinion. He said he didn’t want to cause more pain for Brooke or Evan.”
“So this is all because of you? You couldn’t have just told him to go away?” Fortunately, there was humor in Jess’s brown eyes.
Maribeth shook her head. “I thought about Evan and Brooke’s reconciliation and all of the wonderful things that have happened with all of you since then.”
Jess groaned. “No one’s making this easy.”
“True,” Maribeth said. “But it’s because we all want to do the right thing.”
Mo cleared his throat. “Speaking of which.”
They all turned to him.
“I think Ms. Haldenby has a right to know. Jess, Brooke, do you figure it’d be okay with Evan if I told her and her wife that I’m his father?”
The two women exchanged glances, and both nodded. Jess said, “I think it’s the right thing to do, like you said.”
He nodded. “The ladies are away right now, down in Vancouver. Ms. Peabody’s granddaughter just had a baby. But as soon as they’re back, I’ll tell them.”
Maribeth really hoped his landladies would be understanding and not kick him out.
Jess sipped coffee, a frown line marring her smooth forehead. Then she said, “I’ll talk to Evan. I’ll try to persuade him to see you, Mo.”
“Thank—” h
e started.
She stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to tell him the truth about you. That you seem to be a decent guy and you have a bunch of regrets. That you want to apologize and you’re prepared for his anger. But I’ll also tell him that you’re still kind of messed up, and you’re a loner, and you seem kind of uncertain about the idea of acquiring a family. But the family part is something different from what’s between you and Evan. I think it’d be good for him if you two could get that resolved in some fashion.”
Mo waited and then said, “You done? Can I thank you now?”
Her lips curved slightly. “Yeah. You can thank me, father-in-law.”
Maribeth felt a drop in the tension level in the room. “Now that that’s been resolved, would you please try my cookies?”
“Be glad to,” Mo said promptly, leaning forward and taking one. He gave her a smile, one so sincere and grateful that it stopped her heart.
She returned it, happy that she’d helped him move a step ahead in his quest to reconnect with his son.
Brooke had leaned forward to take a cookie, but Jess was gazing at Maribeth and Mo. “You two,” she said, “know each other pretty well, it seems to me.”
“Pretty well,” Maribeth said evenly.
Her friend’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! You’re sleeping with my husband’s father!” The words flew out, and then she clapped a hand over her mouth as if she wanted to call them back. She shot an anguished look at Brooke. “I’m so sorry. I mean—”
“It’s fine,” Brooke said calmly. “Maribeth checked with me before they started dating.”
“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
“Well, I didn’t know, um, how far along the relationship had progressed,” Brooke said. “And it wasn’t my business to be sharing with anyone.”
Jess opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I just . . . I mean, it’s weird. Isn’t it weird? Mo, you’re what, late forties?”
“Fifty,” he said.
“And MB, you’re thirty-nine.”
Brooke said, “Jake’s eight years younger than me.”