Lori’s Little Secret

by Christine Rimmer

  Lori told herself that a bike—even a grossly overpriced one—was a definite improvement over yet another video game system. And at least Tucker had shown the good sense to throw in a helmet.

  Brody started soccer camp the second Monday in July. The camp went all day, five days a week for two weeks. After that, in the last week of July, they had the trip to Disneyland scheduled. Lori had fixed it so they could fly out of Dallas and Tucker had cleared his calendar. She’d bought him a ticket, too. Everything was arranged.

  Thursday, Brody’s fourth day at camp, Lori dropped him off in his soccer gear, with his ball and gallon-size insulated water bottle. Then she headed to Lena and Dirk’s house to see her sister. The honeymooners had arrived home a few days before.

  Lena was glowingly happy, with a golden tan. She fussed over Lori’s still-healing injury and dragged her around the house so she could get a look at the new drapes and the bathroom tile and fixtures—all installed under their mother’s conscientious supervision while Lena was away. Then they sat down in Lena’s sunny new kitchen for coffee.

  Lena chattered away about her honeymoon. “Boy, there is nothin’ like a tropical island to make a person feel romantic—those balmy breezes blowing, maybe a pretty pink drink or two…oh, my goodness. What a time we had.”

  “I’ll bet you did.”

  “And what about you and Tucker? You know, it’s all over town that you and Brody are staying with him.”

  In the Junction, folks talked. You had to expect that. “I guess I’m not surprised.”

  “Everybody’s wondering what’s going on with you and Tucker. I let ’em wonder. I don’t say a word.”

  “How did I get so lucky to have such a terrific sister?”

  “That’s a question you should ask yourself often. And does Brody know yet that Tucker’s his dad?—aha! You’re still smiling. That would be a yes, wouldn’t it?” Lori nodded. Lena asked, “Brody take it okay?”

  “Yep. Everything’s going great.”

  “Everything?” Lena wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Well…”

  Lena let out a whoop of joy and pointed at Lori. “Look at that! That’s a blush if I ever saw one. So I’m right, huh? You and Tucker are in love.”

  In love…

  The two simple little words came out of her sister’s mouth—and Lori realized they were absolutely true. She’d gone beyond hoping things might somehow work out. Now she was certain: she loved Tucker Bravo. And she wanted a life with him.

  “So when’s the wedding?” Lena had the ball and she was headed for the end zone. “Oh, honey. It’s going to be so great. Mama and me will get right on it, because, really, it should be soon, don’t you think? After all, I mean, you two have a ten-year-old son. Your wedding is long overdue. I want to help you pick your colors—you will let me, now won’t you? You must admit, I always had an eye for color. And then, of course, you’ll be closing up that house in San Antonio and moving home forever at last. Oh, I am so excited, I can barely—”

  Lori stopped her with a laugh. “Whoa. Hold on. I think maybe I ought to talk to Tucker about all this first.”

  Lena waved a hand. “Oh, well. I suppose so. But make it quick, will you? We’ve got a wedding to plan.”

  All that afternoon and into the evening, Lori planned how she would say the words that night when they were alone. They were only four little words: Tucker, I love you.

  It should be easy. Piece of cake. Like rolling off a log…

  Still, her palms got sweaty and her heart went knocking hard against her ribs whenever she imagined herself getting those simple words out.

  After dinner, Tucker and Brody went down to the game room for another extended session of zapping aliens, raiding sacred tombs and killing bad guys with digital six-guns in the video-game version of High Noon. Lori smiled to herself as they disappeared down the back stairs—and made a mental note to tell Tucker that his next gift to Brody should be a book, for crying out loud.

  And then she thought, I love you, Tucker, and her pulse set to pounding like drums in the jungle and her mouth felt dust-bowl dry.

  Wouldn’t you know Brody would choose that night to take one of his baths? It was his longest bath ever, or at least, it seemed that way to Lori. He sang every song the Beatles wrote, one after another, from “All My Loving” to “Let it Be.”

  By the time he finally emerged to say good-night, Lori had decided that she could live the whole rest of her life without hearing one more song by George, Paul, John or Ringo.

  “Love you, Mom.”

  “Good night. Love you, too.”

  “Night, Dad—don’t forget.”

  “I won’t. Good night.”

  Yawning, Brody wandered back to his bedroom and shut the door.

  Lori turned to Tucker. “Forget what?”

  Tucker put a finger to his lips, took her hand and led her down the stairs. By the time they got to his bedroom, she really didn’t care what it was Brody didn’t want Tucker to forget.

  She was too busy realizing that this was it; time to tell him what was in her heart.

  They undressed and got into bed and Tucker pulled her close, spoon-fashion, her back to his warm, broad chest, his thighs cradling hers. Heaven, she thought, as she did so often lately where this man was concerned. He ran a lazy finger down the length of her arm, and then twined his fingers with hers.

  Time to say it. Time to just get it right out there.

  She opened her mouth to tell him. But before she spoke, he nuzzled her ear and said, “Brody wants us to get married. I do, too.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Joy poured through her, bright as sunshine, sparkly as a thousand stars. She turned in his arms, lifted her mouth.

  Tucker kissed her. She thought it was about the sweetest kiss they’d ever shared. When he raised his head it was only to whisper, “Did I just hear a yes?”

  She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. “Oh, Tucker. I do love you so. I love you with all of my heart.”

  Wow. She could hardly believe it. She’d said it. It was out. And it was easy as licking ice cream off a spoon. She shut her eyes with a sigh and waited to hear him say he loved her, too.

  He kissed her nose. “Good. Then let’s get married. Let’s do it right away. We can fly to Vegas this weekend and get it done.”

  Get it done. He sounded like that comedian, Larry the Cable Guy, from the Blue-Collar Review comedy show. Git ’er done, Larry said, and everyone laughed.

  Lori wasn’t laughing. And the sparkles and sunshine had faded a little. She asked in a small voice, “Get married…because Brody wants us to?”

  He gave her one of his men-are-from-Mars frowns. “Well, yeah—and I want it, too. We get along great, you and me. And most important, I think it’s the right thing, the best thing, for Brody.”

  He’s right, she told herself. We do get along. And it probably is the best thing for Brody…

  But damn it. That just wasn’t enough.

  He must have read her thoughts by her expression—or at least their general drift. “All right. What’s the problem?” Gently, she eased herself free of his arms. “What the hell did I do?” He sounded way too gruff—and too defensive.

  She thought that he knew exactly what he’d done—or, to be more specific, what he hadn’t done. She sat up and tugged at the sheet until it covered her. “So. Brody wants us married. And that’s a good enough reason for you, huh? Well, I guess that makes sense. I mean, Brody wants a new game system, Brody gets it. Brody wants your dog—Brody gets it. Brody wants us to be married and there’s no reason to even discuss it. Because whatever Brody wants, Brody gets.”

  He sat up beside her, his brow beetling in an impatient frown. “Listen. Brody’s not the only one who wants this. I want this—I want you.”

  “You want me.” She was certain he was being purposely dense.

  “Yeah. I want you. You want me. We’re both single and we have a son together, a son who’d like his parents
to be married, a son who doesn’t need to spend the rest of his childhood shuffling back and forth between here and San Antonio.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Tucker. I said I love you. I meant it. Now I’d really like to know. Do you love me?”

  There was a silence. A great, big, fat, ugly one. Then he grumbled, “Look. I don’t know about love. Not anymore.”

  Very carefully, she repeated, “Not anymore?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Not since…” She let the sentence trail off so he could finish it. And then, as he sat there glaring at her, not saying a word, she knew. She knew and she could hardly believe she hadn’t realized before.

  But then again, everything had been so good between them. So tender and sweet and open and loving…

  Or had it?

  Just because he took her to his bed, just because he treated her kindly, just because he could laugh and joke with her, she’d assumed that meant he’d put the past behind him.

  She’d assumed too much.

  She’d got it all wrong.

  The healing scar at her temple pounded. Her stomach had tied itself into a hard tangle of knots. And he still hadn’t spoken.

  She spoke for him. “I kept your son from you. And you can’t forgive that. You can’t forgive it—and so you can’t love me.”

  His eyes were a thousand miles deep, every one of them empty. “This is stupid. It’s all just words, anyway. You say you love me. And I want to marry you. It looks pretty damn simple to me.”

  She stared down at her hands. They were folded so tight, the knuckles were white. She shook her head. “Oh, Tucker. I’ve had this all wrong. I’m so sorry…”

  “Prove it. Marry me.”

  She raised her head, met those dark, fathomless eyes. “No. No, I really can’t marry you.” She lifted the sheet, turned to slide from the bed.

  He caught her shoulder, strong fingers digging in. “You mean you won’t.”

  She realized he had it right. And she nodded. “That’s right. I won’t.”

  “Because I won’t say I forgive you. Because I’m not laying on the pretty words of love…”

  “It’s not about the words. I think you know that. It’s about what’s in your heart for me—or what’s not.”

  “You blame me because I won’t—”

  “No. I don’t blame you for anything. I did something you can’t forgive. I didn’t understand that before, how deep your anger with me goes. But now I think I do. Take your hand off me, please.” His strong fingers squeezed tighter. She winced. “Let me go,” she said, each word strong and final, leaving no doubt that she meant it.

  His hand dropped away. She threw back the sheet, got up and began gathering her scattered clothes. Once she had them on, she made herself face him. “Good night.”

  “So what now?” He just wouldn’t leave it—not even for the night.

  Fine. “Tomorrow I’ll have a long talk with Brody. I’ll explain that I love him—and you love him. But that you and I don’t love each other the way married people do. Then I’ll go home to San Antonio. Brody can stay till the end of the summer, just as we agreed when he and I first moved in here. When I come back to get him at the end of the August, we’ll discuss where he’ll stay when.”

  “I can’t believe you’re willing to do this to him.”

  And she couldn’t believe how much he looked and sounded like Ol’ Tuck at that moment. But she didn’t say that. Trading insults, after all, wouldn’t make things right between them. At that particular moment, she doubted that anything could. “Good night,” she said again, and turned from him.

  That time, he didn’t say—or do—anything to stop her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “But Mom. I thought you liked Dad. You said, when you told me he was my dad, that you loved him, even when you were young.”

  “I did,” Lori said wearily. “I do.” It was five in the afternoon and they sat in the kitchen, Brody smelling of soap and shampoo from his after-soccer shower, looking way too much like his father had the night before—as if he was going to grab her and shake her until she came to her senses and did what he wanted her to do. “I like Tucker—I love him—a lot. But we’re not getting married and you need to accept that.”

  “But if you love him, then why can’t you just get married? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

  Honesty. The best policy, maybe. But seldom as easy as it ought to be. “He was my boyfriend. But we’ve…broken up.”

  “But why?”

  She opened her mouth to try to explain—and then shut it. There was no explaining why she loved Tucker but couldn’t marry him, not to a ten-year-old boy. She said, “It didn’t work out. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get back together again. If only you would—”

  “Brody.”

  He knew that tone of voice and he’d learned that when she used it, she meant business. “What?” The tone was slightly sulky—but also, blessedly, less whiny than before.

  “Marriage is not something the kids get to decide about. Do you understand?”

  He bit his lip and looked down at the table. “Yeah.”

  “Tucker and I will still love you and take care of you, whether we’re married or not.”

  “But Dad said—”

  “Stop.” With a sinking feeling low in her stomach, Lori realized she was going to have to have a long talk with Tucker before she left. She had to make him understand that granting Brody’s every slightest wish had to stop. Already Lori could see the changes in her son: the whining when he didn’t get his way, the demands that the adults in his life arrange their priorities to suit his own ten-year-old idea of how things ought to be.

  It wasn’t good.

  And she knew that when she left, it would only get worse. Without her around to provide a little balance, Brody was only going to become more and more certain that he ran the world. After all, he’d have Tucker to constantly remind him that he merely had to hint at wanting something and it would instantly be his.

  “I’m sorry that you’re disappointed,” she said. “I truly am. But, Brody, sometimes things just don’t work out the way you want them to.”

  After Brody was in bed that night, she tracked Tucker down in his study, where he sat at his big desk, busy at his computer. He didn’t look up from the screen when she stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind her.

  “Tucker.” Finally, he granted her a glance. A distinctly icy one. “I need to talk to you.”

  He grunted and kept clicking the mouse, his eyes on the screen. “Seems to me like it’s all pretty much been said.”

  “This isn’t about you and me. It’s about Brody.”

  “Brody…” Click, click, click. “Now you consider him….”

  Anger like acid burned in her belly, made little prickly sensations along her limbs. She ordered it away. She had a goal here and losing her temper wouldn’t help her achieve it. “That was cruel,” she said levelly, and waited. He sent her another hard glance. She lifted her chin and waited some more. At last, after more clicking, he let go of the damn mouse and leaned back in his big leather chair. Now she had his attention, she said, “I do consider Brody. Always. With every breath I take.”

  “He’s upset.” It was an accusation.

  She swallowed a sharp retort and schooled her voice to a reasonable tone. “Just think about that a little, will you? Think about why he’s upset right now.”

  “Because you won’t do the right thing, that’s why.”

  “No. He’s upset because you promised him something that you can’t deliver. You promised him something you had no right to promise him.” She could hear the heat building in her voice. She fell silent, breathed evenly, thought of cool running water, of the wind in the trees on a breezy summer day, of things that were soothing and calm. And as she tried to gather serenity around her, he just sat there, in his chair. Watching her.

  Judging her? Actuall
y listening now? She didn’t know. His expression was impossible to read.

  She tried again. “Oh, Tucker. I know you’re angry with me, way deep down and maybe forever, for not doing everything I could to find you for all those years. And you’re even angrier because I said no when you wanted to get married.” She paused. Waiting for what? She wasn’t sure. He still said nothing, so she went on, “I can’t go back and do the past over. And I won’t marry you when you can’t forgive me. So that leaves us living separate lives and yet still needing to find some way to raise our son into a person who can be a…a happy and productive adult.” She paused again. And again, he said nothing. She lifted both hands and let them drop, feeling about as hopeless as a person can feel. “Oh, Tucker. I tried to explain this to you before, about how you can’t just hand him every little thing his heart desires and not have him start expecting that he’ll always get everything he wants.”

  More awful silence. He looked her up and down—a long, slow pass from the top of her head to her sandaled feet and back up again. Even with it all so wrong between them, she felt the shimmer of heat, spreading out from her midsection, making her body burn.

  Then, at last, he spoke. “All right. Yeah. Maybe you’ve got a point.”

  Shock that he’d come so close to agreeing with her made her knees go wobbly. There was a sofa against the wall not far from the door. She ordered her shaking legs to take her over there and lowered herself carefully onto it. Once seated, she dared to suggest, “It’s not only about all the stuff you buy him…”

  He shocked her again—by knowing exactly what she meant. “You and me.” He shook his head. “I guess I kind of blew it, didn’t I, talking to him about it before I talked to you?”

  She nodded. “It gave him the idea that our getting married—or not—is up to him.”

  Tucker shifted in his chair. “Yeah,” he said. “All right. Point taken.” He frowned. She held her breath. And then he said, “Tell you what. I’ll think twice in the future—about what he does or doesn’t have a say in. And I’ll stop burying him in electronic devices.”