“I wish it was that simple,” she said, feeling her throat swell.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t tease you. That was my lame attempt to make you laugh.”
He tightened his arms and she leaned against him, comforted by his size, his warmth, the steady sound of his heartbeat next to her ear. “I don’t know what to do, Tucker,” she whispered into his chest.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “But I’ll help you figure it out.”
She didn’t show her vulnerabilities to men. She stayed in control, she guarded her emotions, she kept a careful distance. Most of all, she didn’t confide in them.
She would never allow herself to be that weak. She wouldn’t be a victim again.
Tucker Hall, a man who’d lived with violence for years, had managed to get her to break all of her rules.
The thought terrified her.
She eased away from him, away from his comfort. “Tell me what you see with Nick.”
“He’s doing better,” Tucker answered. “At football, he acts just like any other kid. He works hard, he goofs around, he seems happy to be on the team. In school?”
He stroked her hair in long, easy caresses that both soothed and stirred her. “In school he’s still pretty quiet. He doesn’t volunteer much in class. But I’ve seen him talking to other kids. I put them in work groups the other day, and I watched him. He contributed as much as anyone else. But bottom line? He still has a lot of things to deal with.”
He continued to caress her, his warm fingers brushing the nape of her neck, moving to the top of her head again. He had no idea how much his touch was affecting her.
She allowed herself to relax against him a bit more. “I know. Everything feels so brittle right now. I have no idea how he’d react if I told him someone had stepped up and said he was his father.” She swallowed again, fear tightening her throat as she reached blindly for his shirt. “And how do I tell him this man wants custody? He’s having a hard time accepting me in his life. How would he feel about a perfect stranger?”
“No court is going to force a fifteen-year-old boy to live with a stranger,” Tucker said. “Vernon was trying to yank your chain. But if the guy really is his father, he has a right to get to know his son.”
“I don’t care about some stranger’s rights,” she said fiercely. “I care about Nick and what’s best for him.”
His other arm came around her. “Nick is lucky to have you,” he murmured into her hair. “He’s lucky to have someone who cares so much.”
Had Tucker missed that growing up? He said he’d had a tough childhood. Suddenly she wanted to know with an intensity that alarmed her.
“You didn’t, did you?” she whispered.
“No. My father took off and my mother stopped caring about anything, including me. I was a wild troublemaker until my high school football coach took me in. He saved me from myself.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Nick will never have that problem. Not with you in his life.”
When she tried to move away, he tightened his arm. “You stood up for Nick from the very beginning. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how important that is for Nick?”
“Nick is my nephew. I love him.”
“Not everyone would be willing to take on a troubled teenager. That makes you very special.”
He spoke softly, intimately, and his breath tickled her ear. He nuzzled her neck and she closed her eyes, sinking into the sensation of being surrounded by him.
She struggled to focus on Nick, to ignore the yearning for Tucker that washed through her. “This isn’t about me. This is about Nick.”
He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “Do you have an attorney?”
She nodded against his chest, relieved at the businesslike question. “I gave Roger his name and phone number, told him to deal with Paul.”
“Then you’re legally covered.” He stroked his hand down her back, making her feel steadier. But his touch wasn’t soothing. His hand lit small fires wherever it lingered. “So the question becomes, what would be best for Nick? Telling him now, or later?”
“I want more time with him,” she said in a low voice, trying to ignore Tucker’s hand. “More time to forge a bond. We’re making progress, but it’s slow going.”
“Is there any reason Nick has to know immediately?”
“I can’t think of one,” she said. “So I’ll wait.” She lifted her face to look at him. “I don’t want to upset Nick when I’m not even sure what information Roger has.”
He nodded. “I agree. Vernon might be blowing smoke.”
She eased out of his arms and stood up, signaling that his visit was over. She wanted to move back into Tucker’s embrace, but instead stepped farther away from him. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for coming over so quickly.”
“Anytime, Claire.” He stood up next to her, rocked back on his heels and gave her a lazy grin. “Now that we’ve solved that problem, are you sure you don’t need help with any lingerie dilemmas?”
“Positive,” she said firmly, but her mouth curved in an answering smile. “But I’ll keep you in mind if one comes up.”
“You do that.” His voice was relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with sudden energy. “I’m available anytime, day or night.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice mock-serious. “That’s very generous.”
“I try.”
He grinned at her again as they walked back around the house. At the truck, he smoothed his hand down her arm. “Besides lingerie, call me if you need help with anything. Even if you just want to talk about Nick and his father.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I will.”
Before Tucker could get into the cab, the front door slammed. When she turned around, she saw Nick charging down the stairs.
The residual glow from Tucker’s visit vanished when she saw the anger on her nephew’s face.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“WHAT’S HE DOING HERE?” Nick demanded. Running at them, he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I heard you. I was in the kitchen, getting a glass of milk.”
He stood too close, towered over her. Rage and humiliation swirled in his eyes. “Were you talking to Coach about my father?”
“Nick, take it easy.” Tucker stepped forward, put a hand on Nick’s arm.
Nick shook his hand off. “It’s none of your business! She had no right to talk to you about it. No right! It’s my private business.” He turned to Claire. “You never asked me about my father.”
“Do you know anything about your father?” Claire asked, trying to keep her voice steady, refusing to back away from the anger in her nephew’s eyes. That anger frightened her. For just a moment, it brought back ugly memories of another angry man who had lived in this house.
“My father is none of your business,” he shouted.
Tucker stepped forward, grasped Nick’s shoulders, and moved him away from Claire. “Settle down, son. This isn’t the way you solve problems.”
Nick shook him off. “Don’t call me son.”
Tucker nodded slowly. “You’re right, and I apologize. My Southern roots showing again.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, but Claire noticed that he’d angled himself between Nick and her. Although Tucker’s instinctive protectiveness warmed her, she refused to hide behind him.
Claire stepped around Tucker and reached for Nick. He recoiled. “Nick, I’m sorry. I was just asking Tucker’s advice.”
“On what?” Nick sneered. “How you can get rid of me and go back to Chicago?”
She sucked in a shocked breath. “Of course not. That’s the last thing I want. I wouldn’t think of leaving you.” She touched his arm. “I want us to be a family.”
“Yeah, right. You want to dump me on my old man. A guy who never wanted me or my mother.”
“Nick, I haven’t been looking for your father. I promise.”
“That’s bullsh—”
Anger raged in Nick’s eyes, a shocking contrast to the gentle buzz of bees in the garden.
How could she make him understand? “I’ll be honest with you, Nick. You know I don’t have any children. I haven’t spent much time around teenagers. Sometimes I need help figuring stuff out.”
“You could try asking me,” he said, lifting his chin again.
Tucker laid his hand on Nick’s shoulder again, and again Nick shrugged it off. “Listen, Kendall,” Tucker said, ignoring Nick’s gesture. “Fifteen-year-olds don’t always know what’s best for them.”
“She should have asked me,” Nick said, hunching his shoulders. “Not you.”
Claire saw tears glittering in Nick’s eyes, and suddenly understood. Nick was struggling to become a man. He didn’t want Tucker to see him as a child.
“I asked Tucker because he’s my friend,” she said softly. “Because he knows you. He spends time with you every day.” She glanced at Tucker, was warmed by the encouragement she saw in his eyes. “Because he was a fifteen-year-old boy once, too.”
“Hard as it may be to believe, Kendall,” Tucker said, “I was a snotty punk with an attitude once myself.”
Claire whipped her head around to look at Tucker. But Tucker winked at Nick, and some of the anger faded from Nick’s eyes.
Nick liked being called a snotty punk?
Clearly she didn’t understand men at all.
“Can we sit down on the porch and talk?” Claire asked, watching her nephew.
He shrugged. “I guess.”
She turned to Tucker, who gave her a small shake of his head. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he said to Nick. “Punk,” he added with a grin.
“Yeah, whatever,” Nick mumbled.
They stood and watched as Tucker drove away. Claire turned and dropped self-consciously onto one of the wooden porch steps. Still warm from the sun’s rays, it eased the chill inside her. After a moment, Nick sat down below her.
“Do you know anything about your father, Nick?” she asked.
“Not much.” He used the toe of his running shoe to move a pebble around on the step. “Mom just told me she cared about him. And that he cared about her.”
His eyes were tear-blurred. “That was a lie. If he cared about her, how come he didn’t marry her? Or at least give her money to take care of me. Fathers have to do that. I know about child support.” He kicked the pebble off the porch, watched it tumble down the sidewalk. “Mom just said that so I wouldn’t feel bad. He never wanted me.”
“Maybe he didn’t know about you. Your mom ran away after she got pregnant, you know. She probably didn’t tell your father.”
Nick’s weary, cynical glance cut at her heart. “Yeah, right,” he said.
She had to tell him. She had to ease some of the pain in his eyes. There was nothing worse than knowing your parents didn’t want you.
She knew how that felt.
“I want to tell you why I needed to talk to Tucker, why I wanted his advice.” She reached for his hand, held it in hers. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her grip. “A man has come forward and said he’s your father.”
He whipped his head around to stare at her, scowling with disbelief. But beneath the doubt she saw wild hope. “That’s crap. Why would someone say that now?”
“I don’t know, Nick. I haven’t talked to him. I don’t even know who he is. He contacted a lawyer.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth?”
“I don’t.” She leaned closer, searched Nick’s eyes. “That’s why I wanted to talk to Tucker. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
“So it may all be a lie?”
How did she tell him about Roger? “The lawyer is Roger Vernon, that lawyer we saw in town. I used to be married to him and our divorce was ugly.”
“You were married to that guy?”
“For two years.”
She could see Nick thinking. “So this Vernon guy might be lying because he’s still mad at you.”
“Yes.” She smiled at Nick through the tears clogging her throat. “You’re a smart kid, Nick.”
He looked away, but not before she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. “That’s a crappy thing to do.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you right away.”
Nick used his shoe to draw circles in the dust on the stair. “What if he is my father? Do you want to get rid of me?”
“No! That’s the last thing I want.” She took a deep breath, laid her hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Nick. I’ll fight like hell if he tries to take you away from me.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a mock-fierce look. “And I can kick some major butt.”
A smile curved one side of his mouth for a half second, then disappeared. He moved his toe back and forth in the dust, back and forth. “Do I have to decide now?”
“Of course not. This is a lot to think about. And it’s your decision.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Right now? Let’s wait until we have more information. But if this man is your father, the decision is yours.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. He hunched his shoulders, but he didn’t shake off her hand. “I can’t tell you to meet your father or not. You’re fifteen years old. You’re closer to an adult than a child. You have the right to make this decision.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he muttered.
“It’s not an easy thing to decide,” she said. She stood up and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “It’s going to take a lot of thought. I’m here if you want to talk about it. But no one expects you to figure it out this minute.”
She put a tentative hand on his arm. “Hey, how about some ice cream? Want to walk into town?”
She expected him to refuse. She was surprised when he shrugged. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”
As they walked toward downtown Monroe, the bewildered look on his face made her wind her arm through his, hug him to her side.
Instead of pulling away, Nick leaned a little closer.
FOUR DAYS LATER, Claire stood at the door to the Dog House, the refreshment stand at the high school football field. Judy Johnson had called earlier that day and asked if she could work during the game.
Taking a deep breath, Claire knocked on the door. Judy welcomed her with a smile. “Hey, Claire, come on in.”
The scent of hot dogs turning on a grill wafted out the door, mixed with the buttery, salty smell of fresh popcorn. A growling bulldog decorated Judy’s apron. Ketchup covered the dog’s legs.
Judy followed her gaze and laughed. “A minor kitchen disaster,” she said. “Thanks so much for helping out.”
“I’m glad you called,” Claire replied. And she was. She liked Judy Johnson and looked forward to getting to know her better.
“Do you remember Lucy Groves? She was at the pasta dinner.” Judy nodded at the woman in front of the popcorn machine.
“Hi, Claire,” Lucy said with a smile. “Welcome to Friday night madness, also known as working the concession stand at a football game.”
“Are you trying to scare me off?” Guilt slid through Claire. She should have volunteered to work the games.
“Just try to walk out that door and see what happens,” Judy said with a grin. “It won’t be pretty.”
“What do you want me to do?” Claire asked.
Judy tilted her head. “I think we’ll put you at the counter until after the game starts.” She led Claire over to the front of the stand. “Here are the prices and here’s the cash box. You take the orders and make the change, and Lucy and I will fill them. After the game starts, it’ll slow down and we’ll show you where everything is.”
“I think I can handle that.”
A girl whose head barely reached the top of the counter laid a crumpled dollar bill on the counter. “Could I have
a licorice rope, please?”
“Sure,” Claire said, looking over at the candy display. Red licorice ropes dangled down the side of a box, and she carefully extracted one. Glancing at the price list, she handed the child her change. “Enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” the girl said, smiling shyly at Claire. She was missing her front teeth, and Claire imagined her sliding the licorice through the gap.
The next person wanted a bottle of Gatorade, and the person after that asked for nachos and a hot dog. A group of high school girls giggled as they bought popcorn and candy. Claire called out the orders, made change and quickly got into the rhythm of the work.
A referee blew a whistle, the game started, and their customers melted away. Judy and Lucy came to the front of the stand and leaned on the counter.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Claire said. “The way you talked, I pictured a mob scene.”
“Wait until halftime,” Judy advised darkly. “That’s when it gets ugly.”
“So we just stand around here until then?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “We have to get enough hot dogs ready to feed the Russian Army, and enough popcorn to go along with it. And we have to make sure the coolers are stocked with soda and Gatorade.”
“But that’s not our most important job,” Judy said, her eyes twinkling.
“What’s that?” Claire asked.
“We have to catch up on all the Monroe gossip. That’s number one in our job description.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked me to work,” Claire said with a laugh. “I don’t know any of the gossip.”
Lucy grinned. “You will by the time you’re finished working tonight.”
Before Claire could answer, Judy tugged on her sleeve. “Nick is punting,” she said. “Look.”
Nick caught the ball and kicked it into the air. Claire watched it sail through the air, a spot of bright brown against the midnight blue of the sky.
“Nice job,” Judy said. She turned to Claire. “He got some good distance on that.”
Hometown Girl Page 12