About the Boy

by Sharon De Vita

  Katie chuckled. “I warned you my mother had your number, Lucas.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t mind one bit. I happen to like your mother, and your aunt,” he added. “Although Miss Gracie does sometimes spook me with her predictions.”

  Katie laughed. “You’re not the only one, Lucas, and didn’t we have this conversation already?” Katie frowned suddenly. “My mother wants to talk to me about something,” she said, gnawing on her bottom lip and trying not to worry.

  “I thought you were concerned because you thought she didn’t want to talk to you and was avoiding you.”

  “Yeah, I was.”

  “So now you’re worried because she wants to talk to you?” Lucas asked in amusement, and Katie threw the sponge at him, deliberately aiming so she’d miss. He ducked anyway.

  “Like I told you before, Lucas, logic and my mother rarely go hand in hand. And sometimes I think I inherited that trait from her.” Glancing around, she took a deep breath, satisfied she’d gotten the worst of the mess. “So, are you going to answer my question?” she asked, leaning against the other counter to watch him.

  “Which one?”

  “About whether or not you’re the kind of man who doesn’t believe a woman can have a career and kids?” Nervously, she crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for his answer. Lucas was never comfortable answering any of her questions, especially personal questions, but he seemed to be really contemplating his answer to this one.

  She’d never had any indication that he was a man who believed one set of rules applied to men and another to women, but considering how little she knew about his past, she really couldn’t be sure. And for some reason it suddenly seemed very important to her.

  “No,” he said quietly, then added more firmly, “not at all. Not anymore than I think a man can’t have a career and kids. I think you can do anything you set out to do as long as you understand the risks and responsibilities involved. And I don’t think the desire to have children or be a good parent is gender-based, nor does it preclude having a satisfying career.”

  He wasn’t the one who didn’t think a person could have a career and kids. It was his wife. And it were her concerns about his job that prevented them from having more children, he realized with a tinge of bitterness that he no longer could hide, even from himself.

  His wife had hated his job, hated the long hours, the dedication required, hated the time he spent devoted to his cases instead of to her.

  He’d desperately wanted more children and had been unbelievably close to his only son, so perhaps that’s why the loss haunted him so very deeply. But his wife adamantly refused to have another child unless he gave up his job, something he’d never dream of asking her to do. Yet, she expected him to give up the career he loved in order to have another child to love. On some level that had always seemed unfair to him and had led to a lot of anger and resentment on both their parts.

  Like most people who’d suffered a very personal loss, he’d tried very hard never to think of the shortcomings of his late spouse simply because it made him feel both disloyal and guilty.

  But if push came to shove, and he was truly honest with himself, something he suddenly realized he hadn’t been in a very long time, he understood on some level that at the heart of the matter wasn’t his job, or more kids, but his wife’s immaturity.

  As an only child herself, his wife had been brought up to believe the world revolved around her. Used to getting everything she’d wanted from her wealthy, indulgent parents, she’d grown up never really knowing how to share or to compromise. She’d wanted and expected him to give up his own dreams to go into business with her father, knowing doing so would have probably killed him.

  He was a cop, that’s what he’d always been, what he’d always be, but his wife hadn’t seemed to understand that. Nor, he realized now, had she cared.

  Getting her own way, or pouting and punishing him until she did get her own way was her modus operandi, something that was so juvenile and immature that even now after all this time if he thought about it too long, it still riled him.

  But he didn’t believe in divorce—his own parents had been married over fifty years—so he realized at the time that he was the one who would have to do all the compromising, if he wanted to keep his wife happy and his marriage on track.

  But he had grown weary from trying to defend both himself and his job, always wondering why his wife couldn’t understand that being a cop wasn’t just what he did, but an integral part of who he was.

  Sort of like Katie’s job, he thought, suddenly understanding in a way he hadn’t before her passion for her work, because he had the same passion for his work. It made him look at Katie in a new light.

  “Katie, can I ask you something?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve spitting or burping,” she said with a smile.

  “You’re a reporter, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, wondering where he was going with this.

  “It’s not just what you do, but an integral part of who you are, am I right on this?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, Lucas, when you put it that way, I guess you’re right.” Frowning, she shook her head. “I guess I never thought of it that way.” And was surprised he’d understood that about her so quickly. “But in the same way that you can’t separate my aunt from her psychic abilities because that’s a part of who she is as well as what she does, and the same with my mother and her astrology, I guess I’m the same way. There’s nothing else I ever wanted to do except writing and reporting. I guess I always saw it as just another piece of the puzzle of what makes me…me.” She shrugged. “I can’t remember ever wanting anything else except to be a reporter and a mother, and hopefully successful at both.”

  “And you are, Katie,” he assured her with a tender smile. He hesitated before asking his next question. “How do you think you’d handle it if someone, say your spouse, asked you to give it up? Your career, I mean?”

  “Actually Lucas,” she began slowly, “someone did basically ask me to give up my career. Or rather my dreams of a career,” she corrected. “When my husband Jed and I were first married, I was so young, just out of high school, and so much in love.” Laughing, she shook her head. “At that time, all that seemed important to me was getting married. Oh, I always knew I wanted to be a reporter, I think it’s just in my blood, but Jed was brought up in a very traditional household. His father was old school and believed that the man was the head of the household and in charge of supporting the family.”

  “Which probably meant Jed didn’t want you to work, right?” Lucas prodded gently, and she nodded.

  “Right,” she said, glancing down at the floor, before lifting her gaze to meet his. She shrugged. “Writing and reporting wasn’t a career to him, it was merely a job. Not the way I thought of it at all. A job to me is something you do merely to earn money to support yourself. But a career, well a career is something you do to fill your soul. Something that’s a major component of who you are. At the time it seemed so logical I guess. I loved Jed so much that giving up my own dreams hardly seemed important if it made him happy.” She shrugged again and shook her head. “Now that I’m older, wiser and more mature, I realize that I probably never would have been happy in the long term if he’d forced me to give up my dreams. I mean, how could I be if I continually felt frustrated and unfulfilled? I can’t help but think that by having to give up my dream it would only have lead to resentment and disappointment in the long run.”

  It was a hard admission, one she’d never really faced until now. It was very easy to look back at her marriage with rose-colored glasses, but age and maturity had a way of stripping away any pretense of prettiness so that she was able to see reality much clearer.

  “If Jed had lived,” she went on carefully, forcing herself to acknowledge something she hadn’t really wanted to think about or face until now, “I think eventually it would have become a major problem between us becau
se I personally don’t think you should ever ask someone else to give up their dreams, for any reason.”

  “Neither do I,” Lucas said softly, surprising her. She blinked up at him, wondering when he’d moved across the room. Now, he was standing right in front of her, watching her carefully. She swallowed hard before continuing.

  “Mama always says any relationship is a compromise so, at the time, I thought I was just being a good, compromising wife. But then Jed was killed…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced away with a shrug. “And it was really a moot point.”

  “And you’ve felt guilty ever since, haven’t you, Katie?” he asked knowingly. “For wanting something more, for knowing that as long as you were married to him you wouldn’t ever be able to fulfill your other dream. But once he was gone, you knew there was nothing standing in your way. And you’ve carried a lot of guilt over that, haven’t you?” Gently, he laid a hand on her cheek because he could see the guilt and misery on her face. He recognized it because that same guilt, that same misery, had also plagued him.

  Closing her eyes, she nestled her cheek against his warm hand, marveling at how he understood things that at times she wasn’t sure she understood completely.

  “Yes, Lucas,” she whispered quietly. “I felt enormously guilty, as if my wanting another dream had somehow caused Jed’s death.” Opening her eyes, she sniffled and looked at him, saw so many things in his eyes. Caring. Compassion. Understanding. They all touched her deeply, moving her in a way no man had ever moved her before.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to anyone before,” she said. “I don’t think I admitted it to myself until just now.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Actually, at the time I don’t think I even thought about it, but later…later when I would go over our time together, I realized that as long as I was married to Jed, I simply had to put aside my other dreams.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the feelings, Katie, or with admitting them. You didn’t wish or cause your husband’s death—”

  “No, of course not,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “My logical mind understands that, but emotionally, sometimes it’s harder to accept. I was in no means happy about Jed’s death. I was devastated. I was a child myself, left alone to raise a child. And with no skills,” she added. “So I was hardly prepared to take care of us, which is why I went back to school in the first place, and then I realized that by doing so, by making a future for Rusty and I, I was also fulfilling my lifelong dream.” Her smile was sad. “One dream died, but in doing so it gave birth to another dream. And yeah, that brought on a whole lot of guilt it took me a while to come to terms with.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you did anything to cause the first to happen.”

  “I realize that now, Lucas, but I think at first I wasn’t quite mature enough or old enough to understand it.” She hesitated. “I have to be honest with you, Lucas. I don’t think I could ever again be involved with a man who didn’t support my dreams, in the same way I’d support his whether I agreed with them or not. I guess I just never understood how anyone can claim to love you and then not understand or support your dreams. That doesn’t make any sense to me and it’s not any kind of love I understand. But I’ve only come to that realization in the past few years. Maturity does wonders for your common sense,” she added with a wry smile. “If I love someone, I want them to be a happy, whole person and I want to help them fulfill their dreams whether they’re dreams I understand or not. I don’t think love gives you the right to deprive someone of their dreams.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly,” he said, slipping his arms around her waist. He couldn’t be this close to her, couldn’t smell her fabulous, feminine scent or feel the comfort of her warmth without wanting to touch her, to satisfy the need and hunger that was growing day by day, hour by hour.

  He smiled, drawing her closer before his mouth came down on hers, hard and hungry. She clung to his shoulders, knowing the firestorm that would start. And it did.

  She could feel the hot ball of desire and yearning gather in her belly, slowly spreading through her system making her feel lethargic and warm.

  Safe, she thought hazily. She felt safe, protected and cared for, things she hadn’t felt in so long she’d almost forgotten what they felt like.

  “Lucas,” she whispered, lifting her hands to his chest. Reluctantly, she pulled away, then shook her head to clear it. “I’ve got popcorn to make.” She sighed, torn between wanting to stay in his arms and needing to tend to her responsibility to her son and his friends. “And boys to tend to,” she added a bit reluctantly.

  “Yeah, I know,” he added with a smile. “Okay,” he said, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips. “You start the popcorn, I’ll get the bowls and the butter. Just point me in the right direction.” Lucas smiled, realizing he felt comfortable. Totally relaxed, and at home. Things he’d never thought he’d ever feel again, things he’d been certain were dead and buried long ago.

  He’d promised himself he’d never let anyone get past his emotional guard again. He couldn’t afford to. Once burned, twice shy, his dad always used to tell him.

  But right now, with his heart at peace, his emotions content, and a beautiful woman puttering around the kitchen, making popcorn for the son she adored—and he had to admit, he adored as well—Lucas realized that at the moment, he couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be right now, then with Katie and Rusty.

  And at the moment, he was feeling much too peaceful to be frightened by it.

  Chapter Eight

  It wasn’t until the next afternoon, several hours after Rusty’s friends had gone home from the sleepover that Katie realized Rusty was acting weird. Well, weird for him, anyway.

  Dressed in comfortable weekend sweats, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail, she was in the back bedroom—the one she’d turned into a makeshift home office—trying to get through the ad copy for the Halloween issue when she glanced up and saw her son standing in the doorway staring at her.

  And that in itself was odd. Rusty was very rarely still. He was always in perpetual motion, so having him stand perfectly still, doing nothing and just watching her was odd.

  And immediately set off motherly alarm bells.

  He was supposed to be cleaning his room, Katie thought, and doing all the usual Saturday chores.

  Her own legion of weekend chores—going to the market, the bank, the cleaners, the butcher’s and all the other places she had to do on the weekends simply because there was no time during the week—had been put on temporary hold. She had only two weeks until the Halloween festival, and only this weekend and next to get all the edits done, so something had to be postponed and her chores were it.

  So when she spotted Rusty just hanging around the doorway of her office, she immediately knew something was on his mind.

  “What’s up, honey?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and conversational as she glanced up at him.

  “Uh…nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder, shifting from foot to foot.

  “How’s your room coming?” she asked and he made a face.

  “I’m almost done with it,” he admitted, clearly not pleased with the task.

  “Did you enjoy your sleepover in the clubhouse?”

  Pleasure swept over his face and he grinned. “Yeah, it was so awesome. Can I have another sleepover? Soon?”

  Katie chuckled. “Aren’t you staying at Sean’s tonight?”

  “Yeah, so I guess that’s a sleepover, huh?”

  “Have you got something else on your mind, honey?”

  “Nah….” He shifted, glanced down at his battered tennis shoes, then up at her. “Well, maybe.” He hesitated a moment. “Can I…uh…ask you a question, Ma?”

  “You can ask me anything, honey, you know that.” She smiled at him. “I can’t guarantee I’ll always know the answer, but I’ll always tell you the truth.”

  Shifting his weight again, he glanced down at
his shoes then shoved his hands in the pockets of his ragged jeans. “Do you…uh…think…I mean…you…uh…think…Lucas is nice, isn’t he?” he asked, daring a glance at her from under his lashes.

  Warning bells began to hum inside her head but she tried not to show them, wondering where this question was coming from, and more importantly, why Rusty was asking it.

  “Yes, honey,” she said carefully. “Lucas is a very nice man. I think you’re very lucky to have him for a buddy, don’t you?” she asked, watching her son’s face carefully.

  His grin flashed as he slouched against the door-jamb. “Yeah, real lucky,” he said with a laugh that brightened his green eyes. “All the guys are kinda like jealous, I think just because Lucas is so awesome.” His grin widened. “And he’s my buddy,” he said proudly, staking proprietary ownership over Lucas.

  “So you think Lucas is awesome,” Katie repeated in relief, nodding at Rusty.

  “Yeah. He’s just so cool,” Rusty went on quickly, excitement animating his words. “He knows about all kinds of stuff, Ma. He knows about fishing, and about building stuff like the clubhouse. And he never, like, yells or loses his patience or gets mad when I do something wrong like Sean’s dad.”

  “Sean’s dad yells?” Katie asked in surprise and Rusty snorted.

  “He’s a champion yeller, Ma,” he admitted with a crooked grin. “But he doesn’t mean it. Sometimes we think he does it just to be funny.” His shoulders moved restlessly again. “Sean’s ma says he just like hearing his own voice.”

  Katie smothered a smile. “Yeah, well, maybe you’d better keep that tidbit of information to yourself, honey.” Relieved, she rested her chin on her hand. “So does this mean you like having Lucas as your buddy?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Rusty said with another shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but she was heartily afraid her son had a very bad case of hero worship. Katie sighed. She knew the feeling.

  “So then you want Lucas to keep being your buddy? Or would you rather have someone else, honey?”