Surrender to Love (Night Calls)

by Valentine, J. C.

  This was why anger and frustration roiled in his gut Saturday morning as he drove them both to his childhood home.

  15

  Patti attempted to distract herself from the whole “meeting the parents” situation that was going down by listening to the static-filled music playing on the radio and studying the passing landscape. Having grown up in the heart of Chicago, she’d never been outside the city proper before.

  Jon held her hand in his lap as he drove, his thumb smoothing rough circles across the back of her hand. The action wasn’t as soothing as it should have been. Instead, it seemed to hold all the tension and…something else that she’d been picking up from him the past couple of days.

  After making love that first night, they’d rarely spent any time apart. When Jon was at work, Patti occupied herself with the car. She met Lynn for lunch once on Tuesday, and she’d made a half-assed attempt at searching for a job on Wednesday, but every time five o’clock rolled around, she was a frizzing bundle of lust just waiting for her man to come scoop her up into his arms and make love to her.

  Her man.

  It was funny that she felt this way now, when she’d never really felt this way before. She had a track record with the opposite sex—one that didn’t deviate far from the scumbag spectrum. Initially, she worried that Jon might not fall far from that particular tree, but taking a chance on him had been the best thing she had ever done. It had only been a few weeks since they first ran into each other—she smiled at the memory—but she could already tell that he was far, far different from any of her previous boyfriends.

  Jon was thoughtful, strong, and attentive. He was loving and warm and when he looked at her, she felt as if he were really seeing her. When she’d gone to tell her father about him one afternoon while Jon was at the office, she confessed how she thought she might be in danger of falling in love with him.

  Nothing profound happened when she revealed the news.

  Lightning didn’t streak down from the sky to strike her dead.

  Her father didn’t crawl out of the grave to scold her into taking it slower.

  The sky remained as blue as Jon’s eyes and the birds continued to sing their cheerful tunes, so she took that as a sign that he approved of her choices.

  Her mother, however, was not so receptive. She urged Patti to slow down, to think things through, and not to make any rash decisions. She also brought up her car, just as she always did when she caught sight of it sitting in her driveway.

  Sometimes Patti wondered why she drove it there at all when she had a perfectly respectable car sitting at home, but then she knew the answer to that question the instant it crossed her mind: she did it just to piss her off.

  “Patti, sweetheart,” her mother said in her most disapproving tone the second she stepped through the front door. “How can you still drive that thing?”

  Tossing her purse on to one of the end tables, Patti flopped down in the chair that had always been reserved for her father, and sighed. “Because it’s my car,” she deadpanned eager to escape the subject.

  She could still see her mother’s head shaking as she took her place across from her and folded her legs at the ankles. “You mean because it’s your father’s car.”

  “No,” Patti returned, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “Because it’s mine. Dad has nothing to do with it.”

  Her mother’s pale eyes rolled and her tone turned snide. “Of course he does. He has everything to do with everything, doesn’t he, Patti?”

  Even now, miles away, Patti’s back grew rigid at the memory. It was just so uncharacteristic of her to behave that way. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Momma?”

  She watched as her mother shifted in discomfort and brushed her palms across her stick thin legs. Her gaze hit the floor. “Let’s not fight, sweetheart. Would you like me to make some tea?”

  “I don’t what any damn tea.” Patti sat forward, pinning her to her seat with determined eyes. “I want to know what you mean by that.”

  Her mother stood and crossed the room trying to escape, but Patti leapt to her feet and grabbed a hold of her arm, spinning her around, intent on getting her answer. “Tell me!”

  Her mother stared at her like she’d sprouted another head, and then her expression shifted, growing cold and unyielding. “You’ve always loved him more,” she accused. “Ever since you were a baby, when you cried only he could soothe you. When you wanted someone to read you a bedtime story, only he could do it. Then when you got older, you wanted to be just like him. You started working on that damn car together, and I was all alone.” Her voice shook as her eyes began to well up.

  “You’re father died in that car,” she cried. “He died in it and you hold on to it like it’s a shrine!”

  Stunned, Patti had dropped her arm as if it had caught fire, and stumbled back.

  Her mother wiped the tears that had spilled from under her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was more controlled. “You act just like he did, you know? You both liked fast cars, both liked taking risks.” Crossing the room, she took a shuddering breath and lowered herself down on the couch cushions.

  “Sometimes, when the house is quiet, I just sit here and think. I worry that one day someone will knock on that door, or the phone will ring, and someone will tell me that my daughter is dead, that she wrapped that blasted car around a tree or spun out of control and crashed into a drainage ditch, and it will be just like that day, happening all over again.”

  Through her mother’s entire speech, Patti stood rooted to her spot, unable to move. After she got past the initial shock of her words, they both had a good cry, and her mother held her, squeezing her in an embrace so tight it threatened to crush her.

  She’d never known she felt that way. She’d never realized their relationship was so strained. It was eye opening.

  Of course, then she couldn’t stop thinking about how, just the evening before, when she and Jon had gone out to grab dinner, they had almost made her mother’s worst nightmare come true.

  Sports cars weren’t all-weather vehicles, despite what some people seemed to think. Which was why she liked to keep the Toyota on hand—it got better traction. It had been overcast when they left, but they weren’t planning to be gone long, and Jon had started enjoying taking her baby out for a spin whenever they went anywhere. She couldn’t blame him. She understood the draw of a piece of powerful machinery, and she was thrilled that he had seemed to be getting past whatever hang-ups he had about the car initially.

  By the time they’d picked up their meals and started to head for home, a slow drizzle had begun to wet the streets. Jon was a good driver. She approved of how he handled the car. Everything was going smoothly and they were only two blocks from home, when another car ran the red light.

  Jon stomped on the brakes, and the car fishtailed through the intersection. Realizing his error, he let off on the brake and tried to steer into the spin, but it was already too late. She screamed and braced herself for impact as they drifted across all four lanes toward oncoming traffic.

  She was certain they were going to die that day.

  But they didn’t.

  Somehow, the car slowed down enough for Jon to regain control and he twisted the wheel, narrowly avoiding the cars that were speeding toward them. After some careful maneuvering, he got them back on the road and home safely.

  He hadn’t driven the car since.

  The memory was unsettling even for her, but she suspected that it had shaken him up pretty bad. She recalled his odd behavior when she’d taken him on their date to the racetrack and how he didn’t want to take her car that day. She thought about the moment when they were about to make love for the first time and how he had drawn away, telling her there were things about him that she didn’t know. Things that would make her change her mind about him. That he had destroyed lives.

  She wondered now, as she peered out the window at the fast approaching suburban neighborhood, if Jon’s aversion to cars
, more specifically, sports cars—she never did find out what happened to that Dodge Charger—was something she should be concerned about.

  She didn’t have any more time to think on the subject, however, because Jon had just pulled into the driveway of a homey looking two-story Tudor with a very warm and smiling couple who were already making their way toward the truck with their arms held wide.

  Oh boy.

  ***

  Jon was already opening her door for her and reaching for her hand before his parents’ feet touched the driveway. Patti was a bundle of nerves as she stepped down from the truck.

  “How are you doing?” Jon asked, pausing to close her up in his arms.

  “Besides feeling like I’m about to throw up?” Patti swallowed hard and slanted a glance toward the shining couple where they stood patiently waiting for them to come to them.

  Taking her face firmly in his hand, Jon lifted her chin to look at him. “Don’t be nervous. My parents are going to love you.”

  Patti wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was one thing to meet family members, but she knew, beyond a doubt, that this wasn’t just a “hey, how are ya?” type visit. This was the real deal. Somehow, a week’s worth of casual sex and hanging out had turned into a full-fledged relationship.

  Making her even more uncomfortable, Jon leaned in and kissed her. Kissed her! Right in front of his parents.

  “Just stick with me,” Jon said, releasing her. Winding his arm around her, he guided her around the truck toward the couple who sported matching grins. Patti squared her shoulders and pasted a smile on her face.

  “There’s my handsome boy. Come give your mother a hug!” Jon dropped his hold on her hand and grabbed his mother up.

  Left to sway in the breeze, Patti folded her hands in front of her and waited while his mother doted on him.

  “You must be the woman we’ve heard so much about. Hi, I’m Walter, Jon’s father, but you can call me Walter.” Walter stepped forward, his salt and pepper hair glinting in the early morning sunlight, and reached out his hand. Patti had to crane her neck to look him in the face. Now she knew where Jon got his height.

  “Hi, I’m Patti,” she introduced herself, and extended her hand to his. But instead of shaking it, Walter took her by surprise and pulled her in for a huge bear hug.

  With her arms pinned down at her sides, Patti was powerless to move, let alone breathe.

  “Dad,” Jon chuckled. “Put my woman down before you smother her.”

  “Walt,” his mother scolded. She slapped his shoulder for good measure. “Put the girl down. I swear, the first woman Jon brings home in ages and you practically molest her. Hi,” she said, her voice dripping with sugar as his father released her back on her feet. “Sorry about my husband. I haven’t house broken him yet, but you know what they say about old dogs. You must be Patricia.”

  Like his father, Jon’s mother pulled her into her arms and squeezed her to her breast. “Please, call me Patti,” she wheezed, giving her an awkward pat on the back.

  “Patti it is.” She set her away from her, only to hook her arm in the crook of her elbow and begin leading her up the concrete path toward the house. “And you can call me Stephanie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Stephanie,” Patti said with a smile. She glanced over her shoulder at Jon, who grinned back at her as he followed along with his father.

  “Come inside. You can help me get the snacks ready while you tell me all about how you and my son met.”

  And the interview had begun.

  16

  Jon stuck around long enough to make sure that Patricia would be all right alone with his mother. She was a feisty one, asking any and every question that popped into her hyperactive mind.

  She reminded him of Patricia.

  Jon was amused by Patricia’s attempt at being cordial while looking as though she wanted to run right out the door they entered through. Right from the start, he could tell his mother took a liking to Patricia, though he never had any doubt. What wasn’t there to like?

  Patricia was sweet, kind, and always wore a smile on her face, even when it was the last thing she felt like doing. But that was just her way. She hid her hurt and discomfort behind a smiling face, and that just endeared her to him more, because each time he caught that look on her face, he wanted nothing more than to go to her, hold her, and whisk it all away. He wanted to be her safe place to fall when in reality he was the hardest, most unforgiving place she could have landed.

  Currently, Jon sat in the small living room with his father, who sipped a mug of freshly brewed coffee. That was how his father geared up for any task. He was working on his third at the moment, and Jon was silently waiting, using this sliver of quiet to watch Patricia and his mother through the kitchen pass-through his father had carved out soon after purchasing the house more than thirty years ago so his mother wouldn’t feel “cut off from the rest of the world.”

  Patricia had her always there smile in place, while his mother rambled about something he couldn’t make out, but whatever it was, it made Patricia beam back at her. It pleased him to see two halves of his life fit together so smoothly. It was one less hurdle he would have to cross.

  “Keep smiling like that,” his father remarked, “and your face is gonna freeze that way.”

  “She’s beautiful, don’t you think, Dad?” Jon couldn’t take his eyes off her expressive face. She had her head lowered and her long hair tucked behind her ears, revealing the soft smile that he loved so much.

  “She’s a looker,” his Dad agreed. “Seems nice, too.”

  “She certainly is,” Jon said wistfully. “So where’s Cas?”

  His father shrugged as he polished off the last of his coffee. “She said she can’t make it out today. Told me to tell you hello.” He gave him a pointed look. “Hello. Ready to head out?” Lumbering to his feet, his Dad carried his empty cup across the room into the kitchen.

  Seeing it as the perfect excuse to steal a moment with her, Jon followed close on his heels. His gaze sought hers the moment he entered the kitchen, and as though sensing his presence, Patricia paused in the middle of stacking brownie squares on paper plates, and lifted her head to look at him over her shoulder.

  Attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible, his mother transferred her conversation to his father, who hovered over the sink, and Jon strode across the room, coming up behind Patricia to wrap his arms around her narrow waist.

  “How’s it going so far?” he asked silkily in her ear. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he nuzzled her neck while she continued, at a much slower pace, placing the rest of the brownies in neat pyramids.

  “Better than expected,” she murmured, leaning into him. “Your mom promised to show me baby pictures later.”

  Jon groaned.

  “Hey now, save that stuff for the bedroom,” his father called out.

  Jon ignored him, but he didn’t miss the flush of color creeping into Patricia’s cheeks. Feeling frisky, he flattened his hands on her lower stomach and rubbed his thumbs in smooth circles across her warm skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. “I’ll have to make sure we escape early then.”

  Patricia twisted her head around to look at him. “You don’t want me to see your pictures?”

  “My parents had a fondness of capturing me at the worst possible moments, so no, I’d rather you didn’t. At least not before I have you so seduced by my charms, that you won’t have the common sense to run away.”

  A devious look passed across her face. “What if I’m already seduced by your charms?”

  Jon’s jaw tightened and his arms constricted around her. “I want you,” he said, dropping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. He knew his parents, and even though they pretended to be otherwise occupied, they were the biggest couple of eavesdroppers he’d ever met. There were no secrets growing up in their household, which was a bitch for a growing teenage boy with raging hormones and a line of willing girls practically prowling around outside h
is bedroom window.

  Secure in the confidence that Jon’s large frame blocked her from view; Patricia poked out her tongue and licked across the seam of his lips. “Later. You can have me any way you want me.”

  A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Already plotting the ways.” Jerking her up hard against his chest, Jon stole a kiss, slapped her hard on the ass, and walked out of the room calling over his shoulder, “Come on, old man, those boxes aren’t going to move themselves!”

  In the garage, Jon was momentarily paralyzed by the sheer volume of random pieces of furniture and boxes overflowing with yard sale items, but he got over it quickly and kicked his ass into gear.

  Leaving his mother alone with Patricia, especially after the promise of baby picture, made him a little unsettled. The last thing he wanted was to imagine the two of them oohing and awing over his awkward years. Or better yet, the photo of his five-year-old self racing through the house at break neck speed with his child-sized junk suspended high and to the left, and that he’d dreamt about burning more than once. Women. He shook his head and hefted one side of the old love seat in the air.

  Together, he and his father carried it outside and set it down on the front lawn.

  An hour later, Jon stood, digging his fists into his lower back to stretch out the muscles. He glimpsed several of the neighbors he’d grown up seeing every day in various stages of setting up their own yards.

  “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Helmy,” he shouted across the street. A little gray around the edges, but otherwise still looking young and fit, the couple turned to wave back at him.

  He was preparing to head back into the garage for round one hundred and eighty, give or take, when he was stopped in his tracks by an angel.

  Patricia positively glowed as she stepped out of the house balancing two overloaded trays of snacks in her hands. Her hips swayed as she crossed the lawn to the table that was set up beneath the old elm tree he used to climb as a kid. His mouth watered.