Block bent to retrieve the ball. “First, let’s practice throwing. Come here,” he said, and Cory obediently approached.
Block demonstrated and tossed the ball across the yard. Cory ran eagerly to retrieve it.
“You stay over there,” Block ordered. “Now you try.”
Cory reared back and heaved the ball with all his might. It didn’t go as far as Block had thrown it, of course, but it flew reasonably straight and landed about halfway between them.
Block chuckled, trotted to the ball, scooped it up, and tossed it again.
They continued for some time until Block had the kid making a decent, if short, forward pass. Still, it was fun tossing the ball around with the kid. And Cory had even become fairly good at catching it.
“Cory Jackson, you come home right now!”
Block turned, surprised that Macy, hands planted firmly on her shapely hips, was standing on the back steps of the house next door and calling to his little friend as if she had a right to.
He started to wave, but something about Macy’s expression warned him off.
“You heard me, young man. I want you home right now!” Macy continued sharply.
What the hell had her in such a snit? Block couldn’t help thinking. All they were doing was tossing a ball around in the backyard. You’d think they were playing with a live grenade!
“But, me ’n’ Unca Alex been having a good time playing football.”
“Now, young man.” The stern expression on Macy’s face brooked no argument.
“Aw, Mom. But I was havin’ fun,” Cory complained, but he did as he was told. Shoulders slumped, he trudged across the lawn and out through Gramma’s back gate. Macy waited there until Cory got to the door, then with a hasty glance over her shoulder, she hustled the kid inside.
Then it hit him.
Cory had called her Mom. He was Macy’s kid?
He hadn’t noticed a wedding ring on her hand, and everybody had been calling her Dr. Jackson, not some other name. But, he thought, she could have kept her maiden name for professional reasons and, he supposed, there were probably good reasons why she wouldn’t wear a ring at the clinic.
Now he understood why she’d been so jumpy yesterday morning when she’d come in to see Gramma. She’d been remembering the kiss they’d shared the night before. Now he knew why she’d been so reluctant to accept his invitation to go to lunch.
And why she’d seemed so uncomfortable about that picnic he’d set up in her office yesterday afternoon. No wonder she’d seemed so nervous when he’d brushed that speck of ketchup off her cheek.
He muttered a pungent curse. Did he have the hots for some other man’s wife?
Chapter Five
“Cornealius! What did I tell you about talking with strangers?” Macy demanded, knowing full well that she was overreacting and that her shrillness would frighten her son. And Alex wasn’t even a stranger. He, more than anyone, had a perfect right to play with her son. Even if he didn’t know it.
Macy’s heart beat frantically within her chest walls. She tried to calm down, but she couldn’t. She took Cory by the arm, brought him inside and shut the door.
Cory looked up at her, his eyes wide and filling with tears. His lower lip trembled. “But, Mama, he ain’t a stranger, he’s Gramma’s.”
Macy sagged against the kitchen counter. How could she have lost it like that? All Cory and Alex had been doing was tossing a ball around in Gramma Willadean’s backyard, something fathers and sons did every day all around the world.
Alex wasn’t out to harm Cory.
But he could be a threat to her if he knew the whole story. What if he challenged her rights? What if after all these years of assuming otherwise, she discovered that Alex really would have cared. Macy shook that thought out of her head. No, she wouldn’t think about that now. He was simply a man trying to entertain a little boy.
“I’m sorry, son. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Macy said slowly. “Go watch television while I get supper ready.”
“I’m not a’scared. Unca Alex is a big arm—I mean, air force guy. He would take care of me.”
That he would, Macy had no doubts. She glanced out the window to where Alex, a perplexed expression on his handsome face, was standing, still holding the football in his large, capable hands.
She dragged her gaze away from the figure outside and looked at her son.
Uncle Alex! If Cory only knew…
STILL HOLDING the ball, Block stepped back inside to be greeted by the wonderful cooking smells in Gramma’s small kitchen. The aroma almost made him forget about Macy and her son.
Gramma looked up from the stove. “Where’s our boy?” she asked as she shook salt into the steaming mixture.
Block tossed the ball into a box of toys beside the door and took a seat at the kitchen table. “His mother called him in,” he said, wondering how to broach the subject of Macy’s husband to his grandmother. “I didn’t know Macy was his mother.”
“Whose?”
“The kid’s. Cory. Who’s the father?”
“He doesn’t have a father.” Gramma set a bowl of the finished gumbo in front of Block. “Macy came home from her last year in medical school with the child. Said he was the son of some unwed mother, and she was taking care of him till the woman decided what to do with her life.”
She shook her head disapprovingly. “Uh, uh, uh. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of that woman since. Don’t reckon she’s coming back for him.” Gramma poured tea into glasses and set them down on the table and took a seat across from Block.
He breathed a brief sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t been intruding on another man’s marriage when he’d kissed Macy the other night.
And what Gramma had told him sounded more like the Macy he remembered, Block thought as he tasted Gramma’s spicy soup. Macy had always taken in strays or patched up birds with broken wings when she was a girl. She’d been too softhearted for her own good.
The Macy he remembered had always preached that the girls around here depended too much on men and that they had to learn to take care of themselves before they could even think about having children. Block could see Macy taking on the responsibility of someone else’s child.
“She sure is protective of the boy,” Block said thoughtfully as he picked up his glass of tea.
“That she is. But he surely is a sweet child, and I do love being able to take care of him for her.” Gramma smiled and her eyes twinkled with pride. “I do declare that child keeps me young.”
Block looked up and grinned. “Why, Gramma, you’re the youngest grandmother I know.”
“Great-grandmother, I’ll have you know,” she said proudly. Then she looked across the table at Block. “When you gonna get married and give me another great-grandbaby? Your sister Junie has already give me three.”
Block almost choked on his soup. “Aw, Gramma, you know I don’t lead the kind of life that makes for marriage and babies.” Truth was, he hadn’t found the right woman. Time was when he’d thought that Macy might be the one, but that was before she’d gone and gotten educated. She had a career, and what did he have?
If he accepted the recruiting position, he’d have a military pension and nothing to do with the rest of his life. He’d tried to prepare, since jumping out of airplanes for a living didn’t transfer well into the civilian sector, by earning a degree in aviation management, in his few spare hours, but there was no airport here.
“Pish. You used to didn’t lead the life that makes for marriage and family. But I reckon with that recruitin’ job, you’d be in just the right place for marryin’ and settlin’ down.” Gramma put down her spoon and seemed to be daring him to refute her statement.
Trouble was…he couldn’t.
BLOCK STOOD in line in front of the Red Cross Bloodmobile stationed in front of the drugstore in what passed for downtown Lyndonville. After his first efforts at rescue the night of the storm and his day clearing up downed trees, he’d found that his
skills were no longer needed. It grated on him that he was sitting around doing nothing when there was so much to be done. He’d been restless and edgy from not being able to help, so when the word came down that blood donors were desperately needed, he was one of the first in line.
The day was pleasant, and the clear blue skies were a sure indicator that the first touch of fall had finally made its way to this part of South Carolina. A slight breeze fanned Block’s bare arms and provided just the right amount of respite from the bright sun. It wasn’t so much that it was cooler, but the humidity that was a constant in this part of South Carolina had been pushed out to the Atlantic by the cold front that had precipitated the storm.
Block was a frequent blood donor and he knew this was one way he could help.
“Next.”
He stepped forward and accepted a clipboard with a ballpoint pen attached to it with a chain. On it was clipped the routine questionnaire that was standard procedure before giving blood. He’d done this dozens of times, so he wasn’t surprised. He had a rare blood type, and it was often in short supply.
He answered all the questions on the form in short order and returned the clipboard to the vaguely familiar-looking volunteer at the door to the Bloodmobile—and handed her his donor card.
They still weren’t ready for him inside, so Block had plenty of time to think. He was still puzzled by the way Macy had all but come apart when she’d seen him tossing the ball around with Cory. Surely she didn’t think that he’d do anything to harm the kid.
Of course they hadn’t really talked to each other in five years, and maybe Macy was just being careful. There seemed to be so many more threats to the welfare of children out there in the world now than when he was a kid growing up in Lyndonville.
“I see you’ve done this before,” the volunteer said. Her name tag told him that her name was Bettina. He remembered now; she’d been his coconspirator when he’d set up Macy’s lunch picnic yesterday at the clinic.
Block shook his head and blinked his thoughts back to the present. “Yeah. With my type there’s always a shortage.” He paused. “And thanks for helping me out with Dr. Jackson’s lunch yesterday, Bettina. She really needed that.”
“I know she did. We had been trying to get her to take a break all day.” Bettina glanced at the sheet he’d filled out. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve only seen one other person in town with that blood type—Cory Jackson.”
“Yeah. Not too many with my blood type, so I always try to give when the call goes out,” Block said, still thinking about Macy.
“Well, I’m sure someone can use it,” the volunteer said. “Step inside and we’ll get on with it.”
THE RED SUV was not in front of Willadean’s house as Macy ushered her yawning son across the two front yards. Did she dare hope that Alex had gone for the day? Perhaps, he still had more cleanup to do. She chuckled softly as she remembered the impromptu picnic in her office and the free repairs to the roof that Alex had provided.
“Do you think that Unca Alex would be here today?” Cory asked hopefully as Macy rapped on the door and then pushed it open.
“I don’t think so,” she answered distractedly. “His car’s not here. I guess you’ll just have to play with Gramma today.” She looked to where Willadean was bustling around in the kitchen. “We’re here, Gramma.”
Willadean turned and grinned broadly as Cory trotted into the kitchen, looking for something good to eat, no doubt. “How’s my sugar pumpkin today?” she said as she wrapped Cory in a grandmotherly hug.
“Fine,” Cory answered. “Where did that big guy go?”
Good. That saved her from asking, Macy thought as she waited for the answer.
“Oh, he had some things to do today to help after the storm. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but he’ll be back when he can.”
Cory’s face fell, then he brightened. “I guess that means you and me’ll have to make cookies, then,” he said slyly.
“Cory Jackson, what do you mean, blackmailing Gramma like that?” Macy said. It was bad enough having Gramma feed him sweets at the drop of a hat without her son demanding that they make cookies.
Cory, his face screwed up in puzzlement, looked at Macy. “I don’t know what black mell is, but I just want to make cookies.”
“I think it’s more likely you want to eat cookies, young man.” Macy shook her head in exasperation and looked at Gramma for help. “Do you think you could try a recipe that doesn’t have too much sugar?”
Gramma shrugged, and Macy knew to quit while she was ahead.
Macy stooped down and opened her arms. “Come on, Cory, give me a kiss goodbye so I can go to work.”
She squeezed Cory in a tight hug, then looked at Willadean over his head. “I’ve got to get going. Please watch the sugar.” Then Macy pushed to her feet and turned for the door.
At least with Alex gone volunteering all day, she wouldn’t have to worry about explaining anything she didn’t want to talk about to her son. Or anyone else.
AFTER DONATING blood, Block lingered in the small business section of Lyndonville to see if there was any other way he could help, but the locals seemed to have everything well in hand. Insurance adjusters were busy assessing the damage, and most of the moveable debris had already been cleaned up. The only real work to be done was clearing out what remained of the crumpled and crushed trailers in Faron’s Trailer Park. And he lacked the know-how and equipment to do that.
He thought he had pretty much finished everything he could do at Macy’s clinic, but he decided to stop by to see if there was anything else they needed done.
He steered the car through the littered streets, surprised to see that much of the debris had already been cleaned up. What remained was mostly piled by the edge of the road waiting to be carted away.
The clinic looked much the same as it had the other day when he’d removed the tree from the roof. However, he was surprised to note that somebody had already taken care of the tree. It had been cut into manageable pieces and stacked neatly by the roadside.
Block shrugged. He was here. He might as well go inside.
He parked the car in the lot, much less crowded than it had been the last time he’d been there. Maybe he’d be able to convince Macy to join him for lunch. After all, she didn’t seem to be as busy today. Couldn’t hurt to ask.
Since Bettina was volunteering at the blood drive, the woman behind the reception desk at the clinic was a stranger. She looked up and smiled. “May I help you?”
“I just need a word with Dr. Jackson,” Block said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
He shook his head. “No. This is a personal matter.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. I am a professional. You can tell me the nature of the problem, so I can decide whether it’s urgent or not. Dr. Jackson is busy right now, but if you can wait, I can put you down for 11:30.”
“No,” Block said, shaking his head. What had that woman thought he was trying to get at? Then it dawned on him. “Oh. I don’t have a medical problem,” he said, shaking his head. “I just need to speak to Macy for a moment.”
“It’s all right, Neesa. I have a moment to speak to Sergeant Blocker,” Macy said, her tone quiet, professional. She wore a wary expression as if she wasn’t sure why he was here, but just seeing her made his pulse quicken. Block wondered what that was all about.
Block hadn’t seen Macy step out of the exam room, but she must have seen him. “Hi. I thought I might take you out for a real lunch today,” he said, admiring her in her professional white jacket. He just wished she’d find some other way to wear her hair. It was such a shame to keep that glorious mane tied up in that stupid knot. “You know, a real invitation. Instead of resorting to trickery to get you to eat.”
Macy laughed. “Thank you. I’d like that.” The guarded expression in her eyes lightened a little, but it was still there.
“Oooh. He’s the one,” the receptionist said, her eyes
widening with realization. Apparently, word of what had transpired here the other day had gotten around. The expression on the woman’s face could only be described as approval.
Macy blushed, and Block enjoyed seeing her reaction. He thought that maybe it meant she was starting to warm up to him, especially after her strange reaction to his playing with her son last night.
The door opened and a woman and two small children came in and approached the reception desk, reminding Block that Macy had important work. “I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, stepping away from the desk. “See you later, then,” he said. He made a saluting motion and turned for the door, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.
He was halfway to the SUV before he realized that he hadn’t asked her what time she got off. He started to go back inside, but shrugged the notion away. Gramma would know what time she’d be done.
And lunch was still several hours away.
MACY WONDERED if she had done the right thing, accepting what amounted to a date with Alex. But by going to lunch with him, she might be able to postpone the inevitable. She’d have to tell him about Cory sooner or later, but she wanted to get a measure of the man first. She wanted to get an idea of how he would react.
He’d seemed comfortable with her son, and he’d certainly been nice enough to her, but how would he react when he learned the truth? Would he disappear as her father had when he’d realized the responsibilities of having a child? Would Alex rise to the occasion?
She sighed long and deep, then shook herself out of that line of thinking. She had to think positively. She had to hope it would all work out for the better.
She had to hope Alex would go back to his own life and not plunder hers.
Of course, deep down, she knew that would be impossible. After all, he was going to take that job in Florence, and then he’d be around all the time.
Macy wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
Instead of worrying about that, Macy made a quick decision. She couldn’t keep postponing the inevitable. She had to tell him first before he figured it out.
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