by J. M. Dabney
Thankfully, a knock ended the conversation, and he left her sitting on the counter. It wasn’t a new discussion. Miles had urged her to date several times, but the thought of it brought back her nightmares.
“Hey, Mr. Stoker.”
“Miles, you know outside of school you can call me Bret. Is Philly ready?”
“I'm talking her out of a panic attack.”
“Don't be an asshole,” she yelled from the kitchen and dropped down off the counter.
She listened to Bret's booming laughter as she went to the fridge to grab the stuff she got to make Bret's dad a pie and the ice cream from the freezer. She shoved all the items into her backpack and then placed her wallet and phone in the zippered front pocket. She had her hair down which she rarely did and made sure she had a hair tie around her wrist.
She walked from the kitchen into the living room to find Bret in short sleeves that exposed fully inked arms. He always wore dress shirts or long-sleeved t-shirts. She'd occasionally noticed the peek of ink from under his cuffs, but he hadn’t seemed the type for tattoos. She tried to avoid staring at him for too long so he wouldn't realize she had a crush.
“You'd think a thirty-three-year-old woman wouldn’t panic about…”
She held her breath.
“A driving lesson.”
She'd thank him later for that one even though Miles' smirk was evil.
“It's normal for people to have anxiety about driving. She'll be fine. I'll take good care of her.”
“What are your plans for the night?” she asked.
“Oh, I don't know, thought I'd have a boy over. I'll put a tie on the door if, ya know. I'll make sure to clean up the roaches and empty beer bottles before we, ya know?”
“Just keep it to your room and not on my couch. Understood?”
“There are a lot of things I'm comfortable with, Ma, you walking in on—”
“And we'll leave it at that. Have fun. There's money in the cookie jar for pizza or whatever for your friends.”
“Have her home before midnight.”
Bret smiled wide before changing his expression to a solemn one. “Yes, sir.”
She laughed as her son swung her up into a tight hug and kissed her cheek before he set her down.
“Have fun and don't worry, the guys are coming over to study for exams. Then we'll probably have pizza and watch a movie until you get home.”
“I'll watch my step when I come home. I tripped over Alfie last time. I don't think he's recovered yet from being crushed.”
“Just between you and me, I think he has a crush now.”
She snorted as she turned toward Bret. He opened the door and motioned for her to go first. Miles gave her hand a quick squeeze, then nudged her forward. She walked out into the bright afternoon sun and noticed the massive motorcycle parked beside Miles' car.
“We're riding that?”
“Yes, you said you'd never been on one before. Don't worry I have a helmet and I'll be very careful with you.”
“You said I was staying for dinner. I bought stuff to make your dad's favorite pie. I hope that's okay.”
“You didn't have to, but Dad will love you for it.”
She listened as he explained what she was supposed to do and shortly he had them headed toward the ranch about a half hour outside of town. She tipped her head back as the wind whipped around them. The sun warmed her face. The position of being so close to him and her arms around his waist had her pressed to his back.
He pulled off the main street and drove along a dirt road, then into the clearing between a large house, barns, and stables. Horses ran around one pasture and cows ambled through another. He parked and helped her off, then he stood, removing his helmet and hers. Bret stared down at her a little longer than she found comfortable.
“Come on, Dad was excited about your visit.”
He hung the helmets from the handlebars and led her into the house with his hand at the small of her back.
“Dad, I brought you a pretty girl.”
Clayton appeared leaning heavily on a wooden cane. She rushed forward and hugged him.
“Now, if only I was thirty years older, I'd give you a run for your money, old man.”
He laughed as he gave her a tight one-armed hug.
“I still have a few good years left in me, honey.”
He did slur his words but not too bad.
“You trying to convince me of something?”
Clayton winked. “Is it working?”
“I’m going to make you fresh cherry pie, and I brought my homemade vanilla ice cream.”
“Keep talking like that, and I'll get you to the altar. I've missed you, girl, and our talks.”
“Maybe you can get Bret to bring you to visit the diner on my break, and we can have lunch like we used to.”
“It's a plan.”
“Where's the kitchen, I need to get the ice cream in the freezer.”
“That way, Harry is in there. He's a cranky bastard.”
“I've dealt with a few in my life.” She gave him one more hug before she walked around him.
She studied the ranch house as she went. It was warm and homey, and she liked the feel of the place. She walked into the kitchen to find a scowling middle-aged man. Instead of being put off by his mean expression she simply smiled.
“Hi, I'm Philly.”
“What kinda name is that for a girl?”
She ignored his argumentative tone. He wasn't any crankier than most of the elderly men who hung around the diner.
“Well, it's better than Philomena.”
She hated that name and the ugliness attached to it. The night of her attack the boy had smirked as he’d drawn out her name. Propositioned her with her given name whispered in a disgusting tone.
“Ain't that true. I'm Harry.”
He held out his hand, and she shook it quickly before she backed off.
“Clayton loves my cherry pie, so I'm going to need to take over your kitchen in a bit.”
“You bake?”
“I couldn't cook to save my life, but I can make a mean dessert. My son's the chef in the family.”
“You ain't old enough to be having no babies.”
She didn't take offense. Even in her early thirties, she was still mistaken for being in her twenties.
“Probably. But doesn't change the fact I do. He's seventeen.”
“Well, I got some chores to do shortly. Kitchen is all yours.”
He left her be as she put away the supplies and took a minute to look around the kitchen. The kitchen was large and modern compared to the rustic nature of what she'd already seen. She used to dream of a place like this. Somewhere her son could have room to roam. Not a tiny trailer in a rundown park. Sometimes she felt inadequate that she'd never done enough.
She shook off the thoughts and tried to forget her problems at least for a few minutes.
Son, Do You Know What You're Doing?
He was a dirty old man, but he couldn't resist watching the sway of Philly's ample ass. He'd imagined bending her over so many times. Yes, he liked to get a bit rough. Yet he could imagine loving on that plump body for hours too. He shook off the thoughts and looked at his dad to find the man watching him with a knowing expression.
“Finally getting your head out of your ass?”
“You know why I never tried anything.”
“Which I think waiting for her boy to graduate was a mistake. I woulda liked to have a grandchild running around the house. I'd still like that.”
“Dad, we're not even close to the having the babies’ conversation. She doesn't even know that I want her.”
“You're a dumbass, boy.”
“I love you too, old man.”
“I don't want to be a downer about all that, but do you know what you're doing?”
He knew what his dad meant. When he'd found out what happened to Philly, he'd needed advice. Someone to rage at for what those fuckers subjected her to all those years ag
o.
“Only thing I've ever been sure of. She's worth it, Dad.”
“You got that right. Well, go on, spend some time with my future daughter-in-law. You ain't exactly young. A beauty like that is gonna need some convincing to give you a chance.”
“You're just a wealth of positivity.”
His dad shrugged as he darted around the old man to follow her to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway and watched her while she thought she was alone. A groan threatened to slip free as she lifted her arms, her back arched and thrust her breasts forward. They'd be the perfect mouthful, and his cock started to respond, but he drove the thoughts away. She twisted her beautiful onyx hair into a loose, sexy bun, and the slight messy wave made him think of after sex hair.
Then he noticed a sad expression, it was fleeting, but he'd studied her so many times he recognized it instantly.
“Like the kitchen?”
She turned to him on the other side of the island, and her lush lips were pulled into a wide smile.
“Miles would love to cook in this kitchen. Two ovens for baking, I'd be in heaven. I always imagined having a place like this for Miles to grow up in. A place he could be free to run and didn't have to worry about drafty windows or sagging—”
He didn’t think she did it on purpose, but he hated when she put down her home or life. Philly did so many amazing things, and something as superficial as the trailer she lived in shouldn’t take away from that. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Philly. You raised an amazing kid.”
His mind went back to the way she and Miles had interacted when he'd picked her up. The love was obvious. Young men typically didn't want their mothers to show affection in front of others. Miles hadn't had that problem at all. The bond between mother and son was awe inspiring. He'd loved his mother, but she'd been a bit hardened by life and hadn't been the affectionate type.
His parents had a loving relationship, but the ranch had been their life, still was for his dad. Even after the stroke, his dad still pushed himself to get outside to help. He knew it drove the older man crazy not being able to do all the stuff he'd done before.
“I just feel…”
“Tell me.”
“That he missed out on so much, but he never once complained when money was tight. Or when he had to take care of the house when I pulled doubles. The times we had to go to thrift stores for his school clothes.”
“That's all material shit. Miles doesn't seem to be lacking for anything.”
“My parents don't acknowledge either of us when our paths cross. Since my aunt moved to Cheyenne with her husband, it's just the two of us. There’s something I always wanted to tell you.
“I truly appreciate you being an influence. He told me everything you did for him. Helping with school work when I worked nights. Buying everything he needed for sports. You really didn't have to do that, Bret, and I'm sorry I never—”
“Don't thank me for it. I would've done it for any student, and I made sure no one knew. I didn't want him, or especially you, embarrassed about needing a little extra. I've known him before he popped out into this world. He had one helluva kick. I don't know how you worked with him pushing at your belly like that.”
“Oh shit, it was noticeable?”
He couldn't help but smile as her cheeks turned red. She'd worked until her water broke in the middle of the diner. “Yes, it was.”
“I figured if I ignored it, no one else would see it.”
“He looked like he was trying to push his way out.”
“It was so uncomfortable.”
“It looked like it. I freaked out when you collapsed that one day and your water broke.”
“Not my finest moment. I was trying to hold it together until my shift was up.”
“You knew you were in labor?”
Until he saw her drop her gaze and back up a bit did he realize how harsh his tone appeared. He wasn't mad at her.
“Yeah, but I couldn't…”
“You should've said something.”
“I got the lecture from Gladys.”
“I hadn't been around pregnant humans before. I have to admit, I was a bit fascinated by the belly.”
“He was ten pounds and had run out of room. He was constantly trying to get comfortable. I never got to share any of that stuff.”
He strode to the island and sat down on one of the stools. He laid his forearms on the surface and leaned forward, and she mirrored him from the other side. “Share what?”
“The kicks and the doctor's appointments. I was alone when they did the ultrasound. I was terrified something would be wrong. Then the doc said he was perfect.”
“I always told you if you needed anything, always call me. I would've went with you.” He hadn't made her promise to call, but he'd made the offer in case she ever needed it. She'd been his student, and she'd been on the road to doing great things. Getting out of this town. He remembered the day she'd gotten informed about her scholarship. She'd run into his classroom to show him the letter.
“That wouldn't have been appropriate. They would've thought…”
He understood what she meant. Even agreed in some ways, but no one knew what he did. He'd watched her grow from a teenager to mature woman working with a toddler on her hip. Miles was always happy and healthy, mother and son adored each other.
“I know what they would've thought, but you shouldn't have done it all alone. I could've snuck in when no one was looking. So, off the heavy subjects, want to try that driving lesson before you start baking? I was ordered to have you home before midnight.”
“Yeah, right, my son doesn't know what a curfew is. I may have been a bit lax in the disciplinary department of parenthood.”
“Oh, he made sure everyone knew it too. Do you know how many jealous teammates he had? Especially when you let him and five friends go to Spring Break last year with no supervision.”
He chuckled as she smiled and walked around the island toward him.
“They're all good kids. They never get into any trouble. Miles knows what he can and can't do. All I asked was that he was safe and he thought before he had sex.”
“That's another thing. You let his boyfriend spend the night.”
He stood and once again placed his hand on her back as he led her out back to his old pickup. If there was a mishap his old one had taken a beating on the ranch, so an extra ding here or there wouldn't hurt it any.
“What am I going to do? My son is a responsible but hormonal teenager. I'd rather him be in his bed, safe and sound with his boyfriend than parked somewhere. This town is a little more open nowadays, but that doesn't mean my son is safe. Also, him and his boyfriend broke up.”
“I heard it was mutual. Both are going away to different colleges, and they aren't old enough to decide if they want to invest in a long-distance relationship.”
He wondered how much she knew about the information Miles had shared with him all through high school. Even before that, he'd kept an eye on the boy, made sure he had everything he needed.
Would she be shocked to know he'd fallen in love with Miles the first time she'd let him hold the boy? Miles had only been a few weeks old, and he'd come to beg her to return to school. Miles had had this toothless smile that scrunched up his pug nose and chubby cheeks that turned his brown eyes into thin slits. He hadn't been around many babies, but Miles had to be the cutest one he'd ever seen. He knew she'd been nervous about him holding the baby. As if at any moment he'd take Miles away.
Her trailer had been rundown but clean. The interior had been chilly which hadn’t made him happy, but she and Miles had been healthy looking even though he’d noticed Philly’s exhaustion.
The minute she'd realized he was studying her, she became nervous. Checking her clothes and hair, staring at Miles' blanket as if she worried there was one speck of dirt on it.
“Which is very smart on their part. Miles liked him but wasn't anywhere near in love with the boy.”
He op
ened the driver's door and helped her inside, then with her help adjusted the bench seat until her feet easily reached the pedals. He talked her through adjusting the mirrors. Explained blind spots. Once they got her learner's permit, he'd go into more detail when he took her out on the road. Today was just to get her comfortable. He didn't miss her gasp as he buckled her in and made sure she was safe.
A few times over the years, he thought he'd caught her watching him with interest, but it was so brief he hadn't known for sure. He had to remember slow would work best and getting her comfortable with him being around was the first step in his plan. That meant he needed to make sure she always felt safe with him.
“Okay, turn the key, put it in drive and slowly push down on the gas.”
Sweet, Sweet Ground
She barely waited to put the truck in park before she threw herself from the vehicle and laid on solid, non-moving ground. She'd creeped along the empty pasture for an hour before all hell broke loose and she'd almost taken out a cow—bull, she'd almost taken out a couple tons of cranky bovine. After that, her next victim was almost a fence, and she'd come close to ending up going off a cliff. Okay, not a cliff, but close enough. She was never getting behind the wheel again.
“Baby, come on, get up from there.”
“No, I think I'll just stay here. I'm never moving again. I nearly died!”
“You did not and quit being so dramatic. You only kissed the fence, and you were nowhere near driving into the ravine.”
“What about the bull? I nearly—”
“Philomena Kilmer, get up from there before I tan that backside.”
At the use of her name, she tensed for a second but the amusement that lit it eased some of the anxiety it had caused. She fought against the strong hands that gripped her waist, and she was easily lifted to her feet.
“Threats of violence are not attractive.”
“It's not a threat…it's a promise. For never driving a vehicle before you didn't do too bad.”
“Liar.”