by Paula Cox
“What is it with you?” I demanded.
“It’s not me that’s the problem, Alex. It’s you. I’m just trying to help you. But you are so damned hard-headed that you can’t see it.”
I fumed. It was the same argument as last time. It was always how I was the one being unreasonable. “Fine. I’ll take the money, this time. But stop sending the checks. And this changes nothing. You realize that?”
“Thank you. I know how you feel, and I have agreed to leave you alone. And I have, haven’t I? But the checks keep coming. That’s the price of my staying away. I want you to cash them. It’s a pain in my ass to have to stop by the bank and get cash every time. Not to mention that those are cashier’s checks. Now I have to inform the bank that the checks have been destroyed so they can refund the money into my account. But if that is how you’re going to play it, then I will just start bringing cash.”
The door opened and my doctor stepped in. “How are you feeling today, Alex?” she asked.
I tucked the wad of cash out of sight into my purse. “Fine. The morning sickness is killing me, though.”
The doctor smiled in sympathy. “Tell me about it, when it happens, and what triggers it.”
Chapter 14
“Where do you want to go for lunch?” Cain asked as we waited our turn to pay.
“Nowhere.”
We stepped up to the pay window when the woman in front of us moved away. Cain handed her the clipboard with my information on it.
“It will be twenty-five today,” the pretty woman said behind the desk.
I was reaching into my purse when Cain laid a pair of bills on the counter.
“Do you need a receipt?” the girl asked.
“No. Thank you,” he said as he prodded me along.
“Why did you do that?” I demanded as we stepped outside.
“People were waiting.”
“That’s bullshit. Would you just stop?”
“Are we going to lunch or are we going to stand out here so you can bitch at me? I haven’t had anything since dinner last night, I have a long ride ahead of me, and I’m hungry.”
“You’re going back today?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you want me to stick around just so you can bust my balls some more?”
The bitterness in his voice stung me. “No.”
“Okay then. I would like to have lunch with you before I leave, but, if not, just tell me so I can go.”
I thought about sending him on his way, but I didn’t. He looked exhausted. “No. Lunch first. How about Italian? There is a good place not far from here. If you will leave your bike, you can ride with me.”
He relaxed a little. “Okay. Thanks, I would like that. Sorry for being so…pissy.”
***
The restaurant was only about fifteen minutes away, and Cain went to sleep in the passenger seat almost as soon as the car started moving. That worried me. I didn’t want him in my life, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see him spread all over the highway either.
He must be a light sleeper because the moment I jerked the handbrake up he opened his eyes and looked around. “Did I go to sleep?”
“Yeah. How are you going to get home if you can’t stay awake?” I asked as I opened my door.
“It’s a lot easier to stay awake on the hog with the wind in your face.”
We stepped into the little Italian bistro and had our choice of tables. I ordered fettuccine and asked them to go light on the sauce, along with water to drink. Cain went all in with the sampler platter of lasagna, veal parmigiana, manicotti, and ravioli. Just the thought of all that food was enough to make me turn green.
“No beer? Or wine?” I asked when he completed his order.
“No. Having a beer as tired as I am, and with as long as a ride as I have, doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
I nibbled at the bread as we waited, breaking it off in bite sized chunks that I slowly chewed. His answer surprised and confused me. Just like the last time he was in New Orleans, he seemed so…sincere…in his desire to help me and more responsible than I gave him credit for. Why was it that every time he was with me, I was so conflicted?
“I don’t want to fight about this again, but why aren’t you cashing the checks? I thought we agreed that if you didn’t need the money, you would just put it into a savings account. A college fund or something,” Cain said quietly. “Can’t you give me even that? Do you hate me that much?”
My lips pulled down into a pout and I poked another piece of bread between my lips. “I don’t hate you, Cain,” I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.
“Then what? Why won’t you accept my help?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid of what might happen if I let you get close.”
He sighed. “Leaving that for a moment, what has that got to do with accepting my help? Day before yesterday was the first time I had spoken to you in a month. I’m doing as you asked. I’m staying away. Isn’t that enough?”
“You can’t buy your way into my life, Cain.”
He said nothing and I finally looked up. His eyes were boring into me. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No! I’m trying to provide for my child. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“And you don’t think I can’t do it alone?”
“Alex…” he said then stopped. “What do you want me to say? Can you do it? Probably. But why do you want to struggle? Is it some pride thing with you? Do you want to scrimp and save and wonder how you are going to pay this month’s rent? Help me to understand, Alex. I want to know.”
Now it was my turn to sigh. “I can’t explain it, Cain. It’s just a feeling that you are trouble, that if I let you get close to me, to our baby, that something bad will happen.”
“But I have been staying away. I’m not trying to get close. You’ve made your feelings about me abundantly clear. But I don’t understand why you can’t accept my financial help. That’s all I’m asking for, Alex. Let me help the baby. Don’t deprive him, or her, of the things they need.”
I looked up at him but had to turn away, unable to hold his eyes with the hope and pain I could see there. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, and I meant it. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”
He took my hand. “Alex, I would like to get to know the mother of my child. And it does hurt that you won’t even give me a chance. But all that I’m asking is that you don’t punish our child. Please. Have you told your boss that you’re pregnant yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“How’s it going at work? Still doing okay?”
“It’s hard some nights. The smells, they get to me sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” he said as he gave my hand a tender squeeze. “Have you had any luck finding anything else?”
“No. Not even a call back.” When he didn’t say anything I look up at him. “What?”
“I have been asking around in Dallas,” he said softly. “I have a friend that would like to talk to you, if you are interested.”
“In Dallas?”
“I know you don’t want to move to Dallas but —”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Some kind of lab work for a medical testing lab. It’s entry level but…”
“But you found it for me?”
“I asked around, yes.”
“This is the kind of stuff that you do that pisses me off,” I whispered, then sat back as our food arrived.
“Trying to help you?”
“Doing everything for me. I’m not incompetent, you know!”
“I never said you were. But job hunting is all about connections. I haven’t gotten the job for you. You still have to do that. All I did was found you an opportunity. If one of your friends said, ‘Hey, give this guy a call,’ would you be pissed off at them?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“So why are you pissed off at me?”
“I don’t know! You just do that to me!”
He sighed again. “Do you want the contact information or not,” he asked, his voice brimming with annoyance.
“Yeah. Give it here,” I said as I turned and dug in my purse for pen and paper. When I turned back, he was sliding a business card across the table. I picked it up. “Cheryl Atkinson?”
“She’s the lab manager.”
“What kind of friend is she?” I asked just to be snotty. I didn’t like myself very much right then but I couldn’t help it.
“Does it matter?”
I slid the card back across the table. “I don’t want the help of some bimbo that you’re banging.”
I saw his lips narrow. “It’s Thad’s, the President’s, sister.”
I burned in embarrassment. “Sorry,” I mumbled as I pulled the card back to me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, but he didn’t sound pleased at all. And who could blame him? I was being nothing but a bitch, and for no reason other than I could. I sat picking at my noodles, feeling terrible. Cain was trying to help me, asking for nothing in return, and I couldn’t even be civil.
***
“If I offer to pick up your lunch, are you going to bitch at me?” he asked when the waitress dropped off our ticket. The lunch had been a tense affair, neither of us talking much. And it was all my fault.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said with a feeble smile.
He looked at the ticket and tossed a ten and a twenty onto the little tray the ticket was in. “Are you ready?”
I rose as he stepped back, waited for me to pass in front of him and then followed. When we stepped outside I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Cain… I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a harpy all afternoon…and I’m sorry.”
“Whatever.”
“No!” I said as I stepped in front of him, turned, and placed a hand in his chest, forcing him to either stop or knock me down. He stopped. “It’s not okay. I shouldn’t be treating you like this. You deserve better. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Hormones, maybe. But I feel terrible about it.”
He stared down at me a moment then softened. “Apology accepted. Will you just cash my checks? If you will do that, and try to be pleasant the once or twice a month you see me, we can get through this with a minimum of pain for both of us. I don’t expect you to be thrilled to see me, but it would be nice if you weren’t twisting the knife every chance you get.”
“Twisting the knife?”
“Yeah. You don’t know what it has like for me. I want you. Or at least, I want a chance to get to know you, but you stiff-arm me at every turn. You’re the mother of my child, yet you don’t want me around. That’s a hard thing for me to accept. It’s a hard thing to let go. And it hurts, Alex. It hurts to be this close to you and know that you don’t want me.”
I looked at my shoes. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you, Alex. I really don’t. But I’m afraid for you. What happens if you lose your job? You won’t have insurance. You won’t have any income. How will you survive? I’m afraid you think this is going to be some grand adventure. But it’s not. It’s going to be hard. I understand you not wanting to leave home, but I wanted to give you an option. I am just asking for peace of mind in knowing that you are okay and that my child will be properly taken care of. I think you are going to be a terrific mother. I just want to make it a little easier for you and help make sure that the baby has what I never did: a future.” He looked at me a moment and I saw his eyes become shiny with tears. He took my face in his hands and kissed me, as if he were saying goodbye forever, before he stepped back. “Will you give me a ride back to my bike?”
I felt such shame that I wanted to cry. “Yes. But don’t leave for Dallas. Come home with me.”
“Why? The last time you invited me to your house we ended up making love then you sent me away. I don’t need that again.”
“You’re tired. You can sleep on my couch for a few hours before you leave.”
“Why do you care?”
That stung. “I don’t want my baby’s father to become a smear on the interstate because he fell asleep on the way home.”
He stared at me a moment. “Thank you.”
***
I dropped him off at the clinic for his bike and he followed me home. As I exited my car in the garage, I saw him staring at my yard before he entered the garage and I shut the big door behind him.
“I’ll try to be quiet,” I said as we entered the house. I had to be at work in four hours anyway.
“I’ll just wait until you leave before I lay down. Who mows your yard?”
“I do. I just haven’t felt like it this week. Why?”
“Why don’t you hire someone to do it?”
“Because it only takes thirty minutes to do it myself, and because I kind of like piddling in the yard.”
He nodded once then turned back to the garage. “You have gas for the mower?”
“You don’t have to do that!”
He looked at me with that way he has. “Alex, you’re pregnant. You probably shouldn’t be mowing the yard anyway. So for this week, at least, you don’t have to. Isn’t there a kid in the neighborhood that would like to earn a few bucks?”
“I don’t know. Besides, the grass is about to stop growing anyway.” I could tell he wanted to do or say something, but was holding back. “Okay, fine. I’ll get a neighbor to do it the rest of the year. Happy?”
He relaxed a little. “Yes. Thank you. Promise me that you will get someone to do it for you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I’ll ask Mel if knows of anyone.”
He smiled slightly and disappeared into the garage. A moment later I heard the garage door go up and, not long after that, my lawnmower start. I opened the garage to see my car sitting where I left it and I wondered how he got the mower out. I always had to back the car out to make enough room.
I itched to get my hands on the mower as I heard it roaring away outside. I took pride in my yard and it annoyed me that he was mowing it. I would never admit it to him, but I didn’t think he would do it right.
As he moved to the backyard I opened the front door and looked at the fresh cut grass. I mowed in straight lines to leave a pattern of tracks in the grass, but I had expected him to just go around and around the yard like everyone else. Instead he had mowed in a crisscross pattern that had left the grass with a checkerboard pattern that I rather liked. No wonder it was taking him so long. With a smile I closed the door. Cain Rodgers was just full of surprises.
***
After an hour of mowing, I heard the mower stop and I watched him through the kitchen window as he washed the mower down with the garden hose. I never bothered with that but for some reason it pleased me that he was taking care of my mower rather than doing the job as quickly as he could. Washing finished, he started it, let it run for a moment and then switched it off. As he pushed the mower around the end of the house, I opened kitchen door to see how he managed to get the mower out without moving my car.
“Do you want me to move my car?” I asked when he appeared in the drive.
“No. I got it.” With a grunt he hefted the mower up and held it over my car, his arm muscles bulging as he squeezed through the garage, my eyes opening wide in surprise and admiration. He must have been strong as an ox because the mower wasn’t exactly light. Past my car, he crouched and put the mower down, rolling it into its corner.
“What?” he asked as he turned.
“Nothing. Just seems like it would have been easier to move the car,” I said, but that wasn’t what I was thinking. It was the middle of September, which meant it was still hot and humid, and his shirt was stuck to him like a second skin. I had seen him naked, but never working hard, and I was imagining seeing those muscles working as he strained and sweat.
“Probably. But it’s done now,” he said as he wiped his hands on his pants.
“Come in. I have cold one
for you.”
“One more thing,” he said as he lifted the trimmer off the hook. He stopped in the drive, gave the starter cord a couple of quick jerks, then disappeared as the trimmer snarled and whined.
A few minutes later the trimmer fell silent and I heard him clomp up the three steps to my kitchen door. He opened the door before he toed his boots off and stepped into the kitchen. As he entered, I handed him a beer.