by Pamela Bauer
Like the others, she wore harem pants, but instead of red they were a turquoise-blue and had a slit down the side of each leg. Around her hips was a scarf from which rows of coins dangled provocatively and on her fingers were tiny cymbals—the source of the tinkling sound he’d heard when he’d first entered the house.
“Hi Dylan. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” she said in a voice that made him think of moonlit nights on the beach with the sound of the surf in the background.
“Yes, it has,” he answered, trying not to gawk at her like some bar patron ogling an exotic dancer, but that’s exactly what he thought of when he looked at her. Instead of having a top with long sleeves, she wore a bikini bra, trimmed with sequins and beads and revealing a generous amount of cleavage.
“We’ve both changed a bit, haven’t we?” she said, amused by his reaction to the changes thirteen years had produced.
“Just a bit,” he agreed, still having a hard time believing that the skinny little kid who’d done cartwheels on the front lawn had matured into this beautiful woman.
“Can we dance?” Mickey asked impatiently, drawing Maddie’s attention away from Dylan.
“Maybe we should stop for tonight,” she suggested to Leonie.
“No, it’s okay. You girls go ahead and finish. I’ll take Dylan into the kitchen and make him something to eat,” Leonie insisted. She linked an arm through Dylan’s and motioned for Shane to join them.
“Smells good in here,” Dylan said as he stepped into a kitchen that didn’t look much different than it had the last time he’d visited. “You must have been baking.”
She chuckled. “Not me. Maddie. She’s the cook around here. She loves to make bread from scratch.”
It was hard for Dylan to imagine the woman with the jewel in her navel and cymbals on her fingers as whipping up anything in the kitchen. She didn’t exactly look like the domestic type.
Leonie put her hands on Dylan’s arms and give him a thorough perusal. “Let me look at you.”
“He’s got all his limbs, Mom. I already checked,” Shane quipped, grabbing a can of soda from the refrigerator. “Dylan, you want something stronger? Mom’s got beer in here.”
“No, but a cup of coffee would taste good.”
“I’ll get you a cup. You sit.” She pushed him toward a chair at the table. “I have some cold chicken I can put in the microwave. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great, but I’m not hungry. Why don’t you sit down so we can talk?”
“All right, but let me change first.” She gestured to the costume. “I wouldn’t want to spill anything on this fabric. It needs to be dry-cleaned. I’ll be right back.” With a wave she was gone, leaving him alone with his brother.
“Surprised by all the changes?” Shane asked, hooking a chair with his foot and sitting down across from Dylan.
“You could have warned me about that.” Dylan gestured with his thumb toward the living room. He didn’t intend for his tone to have an edge, but he was tired and it had been a shock to see his mother belly dancing.
Shane popped the top on his soda and took a drink. “I shouldn’t have had to warn you. If you called home, you’d know what’s been going on here.”
So much for the truce they’d declared in the car, Dylan thought, wondering if he and Shane would ever be able to sit down and talk without the past coming between them. He chose to ignore his brother’s comment. He wrapped his fingers around the cup in front of him, appreciating its warmth. He’d been cold ever since he’d left the airport and it felt good to be in the kitchen drinking hot coffee.
Shane broke the silence with an attempt at an apology. “Forget I made that crack. I was out of line.”
“It’s forgotten,” Dylan told him, although they both knew it wasn’t. He didn’t expect that years of tension between him and his brother would fade away with a few sentences. It would take time to rebuild their relationship, but time was something Dylan had.
“I meant what I said earlier, Shane. I have missed you. And this evening, coming home with you and Mickey in the car, listening to him talk…well, it’s made me realize I’ve missed a lot of other stuff, too.”
Shane grinned proudly. “Mick’s quite a kid, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is. Smart little thing. Must take after his mother,” Dylan teased.
“Who takes after his mother?” Leonie asked on her return. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a red sweatshirt. Dylan again was surprised at how young she looked.
“Your grandson,” Shane answered.
“I think he has the best of both of his parents,” she said with an affectionate pat on Shane’s shoulder. Then she looked at Dylan. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? How about a nice turkey sandwich?”
“See? She hasn’t changed as much as you thought. She’s still the same old mom,” Shane told Dylan with a sly grin. “Always trying to feed somebody.”
“I’m supposed to. It’s in a mother’s job description,” she insisted, arranging cookies on a plate.
“Belly dancing isn’t,” Dylan said. “What’s up with that?” he asked, nodding toward the other room.
“Maddie suggested she teach us because it’s such great exercise.” She set the plate on the table in front of Dylan. “It’s low impact and it releases tension. And the best part is, it’s fun.”
“Then you’re only doing it to have fun?” Dylan asked.
“You don’t think anyone would pay to see us, do you?” she asked with a laugh, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Then why the fancy costumes?” Dylan wanted to know.
“Maddie suggested we get them—to make it more fun. At first I was a bit shy about wearing something so exotic looking, but then I figured what the heck, why not try it? So I did and I liked it.”
“Mom’s tried a lot of new things lately,” Shane pointed out.
“I’ve noticed,” Dylan stared at her hair. “So tell me. Do blondes have more fun?”
She fluffed her curls with her fingers. “As a matter of fact, I think they do. I probably should have done this years ago.”
“I liked you as a brunette,” Dylan told her.
“I did, too, but I wasn’t exactly a brunette anymore. Salt-and-pepper gray would be more accurate. People have told me I took ten years younger because of the highlighting.”
“Is that what you want? To look forty-two?” he asked.
“Thirty-two would be even better, but I’ll settle for forty-something,” she said with an impish grin. He must have frowned because her smile slid away. “You’re looking at me as if you don’t approve.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t approve; it was just that she didn’t look like his mother. She looked…well, young, for one thing. And so very different from the last time he’d seen her. Before he could say anything, Shane spoke up.
“I think you look great, Mom. And I won’t be offended if anyone asks if you’re my sister.” He gave her an affectionate wink.
She flapped her hand at him. “As if they would. It was a change I needed and it’s been a good one for me.” To Dylan she said, “You probably haven’t noticed, but I’ve lost weight since the last time you were here, too.”
“I noticed.”
As she sat down at the table she said, “Maddie’s the one who helped me shed the pounds.”
“Maddie knows about dieting, too, does she?” Dylan asked with a lift of one eyebrow.
“It’s not really about dieting, Dylan. It’s more about living a healthy lifestyle,” his mother corrected him.
“And I suppose that Maddie knows all about that, too.”
She frowned. “Dylan, why that tone of voice? There’s no reason for you to be sarcastic regarding Maddie.”
“I’m not trying to be sarcastic, just asking questions,” he insisted, although he knew he was sounding churlish. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Ah, don’t mind me. I’m just tired. Maybe I should take my bags and go to bed. You want me to tak
e the spare bedroom on this floor?”
“I’m going to put you in Jason’s room. The spare bedroom is now my office.”
“If you needed a office, why didn’t you just use Dad’s?”
“Because she didn’t want to use his,” Shane said, coming to his mother’s defense. “Mom has a right to remodel the house if she wants.”
“I’m not criticizing her for making changes to the house,” Dylan snapped at his brother.
“It sure sounds as if you were.”
Leonie held up a hand. “You two stop. There’s no need to raise your voices.”
Dylan could see by the set of his brother’s jaw that he wanted to continue their discussion, but the look on his mother’s face kept him silent.
Then she turned to Dylan. “You won’t be uncomfortable in Jason’s room, will you?”
“No, not at all,” he assured her. “I guess I didn’t realize that you needed an office. I forgot that you were doing your column for the paper.”
“Yes, I am.” She cast a rather furtive glance at Shane, who apparently found it necessary to come to her defense once more.
“Mom’s not just writing a column. She has her own business,” he said.
“Business? What kind of business?”
Again her eyes darted to Shane, as if she were nervous and needing his reassurance. “You’re going to be surprised when I tell you.”
“Come on. I’ve just seen you belly dancing. You think I’m going to be shocked at you owning a business?” he asked dryly.
After one more glance at Shane, she said, “I’m a romance coach.”
Dylan nearly choked on his coffee. “A what?”
“A romance coach,” she repeated. “The column I write for the paper is an advice column on romance.”
“You mean people write to you about their problems with their love life?” Dylan thought his voice must have gone up an octave.
She nodded. “And I also teach classes on making relationships last.”
“Don’t forget about the one-on-one consulting,” Shane added.
Seeing his mother belly dancing was nothing compared to the astonishment Dylan felt at hearing this. “But…” he began, then stopped himself. His instinct had been to blurt out, “How can you give advice on romance after what happened in your own marriage?”
He knew, however, that he could never say those words to her, because she didn’t know her husband had been unfaithful to her. Only Dylan had known. And it was a secret he would continue to keep even now, because to reveal it would mean shattering an illusion his mother still treasured—that his father had loved only her.
“How did all this come about?” he asked, trying not to sound disapproving.
“You know I’ve been renting out the rooms to the college girls since your father died?” When he nodded, she continued on, “Well, they would always come downstairs to eat and I’d listen to their problems. They’d ask my opinion on things and I’d give it. The next thing I knew, they were bringing their friends over and asking my advice about love. Questions such as, how did I manage to stay married for thirty years, how did I know when I was in love…those kinds of things.”
It was something he could see his mother doing. She’d always been a good listener and her kitchen had often been the gathering place for the neighborhood moms. How many times as a child had he heard the phrase, “You should ask Leonie.” Was it any wonder she was still answering questions? Only now they weren’t about getting out grass stains but mending broken hearts.
“So you went to the newspaper and suggested you write a column answering people’s questions about love?” he asked, still trying to figure out how it had all come about.
“Not without any training I didn’t.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Maddie suggested I take a writing class. She helped me put together a sample of what the column would be like and then, bless her heart, she took it to a friend of hers at the newspaper.”
The ubiquitous Maddie. Dylan should have known she’d be behind this. “How did that lead to you having your own business?”
“Maddie suggested I branch out, you know, cover all the bases when it came to romance and relationships. So I began offering workshops and the next thing I knew, I was printing up business cards with the title ‘romance coach’ after my name.”
Again Maddie. Dylan took a deep breath to keep from making another sarcastic comment about the woman. Was there any aspect of his mother’s life in which she hadn’t interfered? Only it didn’t sound as if his mother saw it as interference.
“I never realized that running a business could be so exciting!”
From the glow on her cheeks, Dylan could see that it was a fulfilling career for her. He was about to tell her he was happy for her, but her next words kept him silent.
“What’s really special about this job is that it makes me feel close to your father. Whenever I have to answer a question about love and romance, I think of him and the love we shared.”
The love we shared. Dylan knew she’d been happy with his father. That had never been something he’d questioned. What he didn’t know was if that love had been based on a lie. Would his mother’s feelings for his father be the same if she knew he’d cheated on her? Was she basing her career on a lie?
They were questions he knew he could never ask. He sighed, and his mother mistook the sound for fatigue.
She reached across the table and patted his hand. “You’ve had a long day. We’ll have lots of time to talk once you catch up on your sleep.”
Dylan gently rotated his neck. “Bed is going to feel good. I must have slept wrong on the plane because I’ve got a kink in my neck.”
“You should ask Maddie to give you a massage,” his mother suggested. “She’s got the right touch when it comes to soothing aching muscles.”
“Tell me, Mom, is there anything that Maddie doesn’t know?” he asked.
“I don’t know anything about living on a Caribbean island,” she said, entering the room. She gave him a flirtatious grin. “Maybe you could fill me in.” Then she placed a hand on Leonie’s shoulder and said, “We’re stopping for tonight. Do you want to come say goodbye?”
Leonie scraped back her chair. “I do. Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem,” she said as left the room, the coins on her costume making a tinkling sound with every step she took.
Shane rose, too. “That means Jennifer and Mickey will be wanting to go.” He turned to Dylan. “You need any help with your luggage?”
Dylan shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”
His mother asked, “Are you going to bed then?”
“No, I’ll wait for you,” he said, knowing that he needed to talk to his mother alone. His reunion with her hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, and he needed to smooth things over.
Only it wasn’t his mother who returned a few minutes later, but Maddie. She looked startled to see him, and he suspected that if she could have left without saying a word, she would have.
“Looking for something?” he asked.
“Just getting some water,” she told him, pulling a bottle from the refrigerator.
“Belly dancing makes you thirsty, does it?” He didn’t know why the words came out on a note of sarcasm. She’d neither said nor done anything to warrant it.
“If that’s the tone you used with your mother I can see why she’s upset,” she told him, then unscrewed the cap and took a long drink.
He let his eyes travel over her figure and felt something stir deep inside him. Now he knew the reason for the sarcasm. It was a self-defense mechanism. He was attracted to her and he didn’t want to be.
“Mom’s not upset.” He spoke the words with confidence, although he knew his reunion with his mother had had its share of tension. She’d wanted his approval and, instead of complimenting her on her new look, he’d put her on the defensive, asking questions with a critical eye rather than an understanding one. He wasn’t, however, going to admit that to th
is woman.
“Now why doesn’t it surprise me that you didn’t notice?” Maddie shoved a fist to her waist, which only caused Dylan’s eyes to focus on her flat stomach and the turquoise jewel in her navel. It was almost the same color as her eyes and seemed to wink at him.
He forced his eyes back to hers. “My relationship with my mother doesn’t concern you, although I’m sure you think it does.”
She stiffened, her chin lifting slightly. “Actually, I don’t, but I happen to care about your mom and I don’t like it when people hurt her.”
“People meaning me?” he asked in disbelief. “I didn’t come home to upset my mom.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’d like to think that we can get along while you’re here.”
Her attitude annoyed him. Who was she to stand there like some champion of the mistreated, looking at him as if it were her duty to protect his mother from him?
He was about to tell her that if they were going to get along, she was going to have to get rid of that attitude. Only his mother chose that moment to return.
“So here’s where you disappeared to,” she said to Maddie. “Are you and Dylan reacquainting yourselves?” She looked from one to the other.
“Yes, I was just telling Dylan how fond I am of you.” She put her arm around his mother and gave her a squeeze. “He’s lucky to have you for a mom.”
“Thank you, Maddie. I do believe I’m quite lucky to have him for a son, too,” she responded, giving Dylan an affectionate glance.
Only he saw the look in Maddie’s eyes. It told him there wasn’t even a slim chance she shared that sentiment.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” Maddie announced, then she turned to Dylan. “Hope the cold doesn’t get to you.” It was said in a cheerful way, but he knew there was a hidden message. She wasn’t going to spread any warmth his way.
“I’m sure I’ll survive. You forget. I lived here eighteen years. This is my home.”