Making It Right

by Kathy Altman

  Once her father got home from work, all she had to do was make the mashed potatoes, heat up the carrots and the rolls and Project Distract Yourself by Overfeeding Your Father would be complete. More than complete, since she had a pecan pie thawing on the counter and a half gallon of vanilla ice cream waiting in the freezer.

  She’d better get used to this cooking thing. She’d be doing a lot more of it.

  “I can do this,” she said out loud.

  Still wearing her oven mitts, she pressed her hands to her belly. Imagined Gil’s hands there instead. Or his mouth, as he traced the growing curve of her stomach. Then she pictured shopping for a crib on her own, running into him at the grocery store and struggling to make polite conversation with the stranger whose baby was growing inside her.

  Gil.

  A hot swell of grief nearly pushed her to her knees and she sagged against the counter. Her lungs felt like bricks walling up her chest and she panted like she was already practicing for the birth.

  I can’t do this.

  He’d said he’d join her for all of her doctor’s visits, but how would she even be able to handle that? Seeing him, standing next to him, sharing this miracle with him while knowing that if she hadn’t screwed up so badly, if she hadn’t indulged in that idiotic relapse, they could touch and kiss and wonder together instead of sitting on opposite sides of the room, wearing identical wooden expressions?

  She slid down the cabinet onto her butt and pulled her knees in. Rested her forehead on the bright red mitts and fought the need to sob. Once she started, she might not be able to stop.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  The loud metallic dance of the lid on the potatoes brought her head up. She swiped the mitts across her cheeks and slowly got to her feet. Her dad would be home any moment now, and finding her like this would not be the optimal start to an evening of comfort food.

  She was draining the potatoes when the front door opened and closed. Her father strode into the kitchen, stopped and surveyed the table she’d arranged with tablecloth and linen napkins. All plaid, of course.

  “This is quite a welcome,” he said. “If I’d known you were doin’ all this, I’d have come home earlier. You know, to supervise.” He winked, and kissed her on the cheek. “What’s the occasion?”

  Kerry set aside the pot, eyeing him closely. “You tell me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seem awfully pleased with yourself.”

  He hooked his thumbs behind the straps of his overalls. “Of course I’m pleased with myself. I’m a handsome hunk of man. Genie told me so.”

  Kerry snorted. “Then it must be true.” It did her heart good to see her dad looking so happy. It did wonders for her conscience, too. “Dinner in ten minutes.”

  He moved to the sink and washed his hands. “Anything I can do to help?”

  The prickling behind her breastbone intensified. “Yes. I am hereby declaring a moratorium on discussing Snoozy’s, money or Gil Cooper.” It had been over a week since the money had gone missing, and still no one had any clue what had happened. She hadn’t seen or talked to Gil in all that time, so the past several days had felt more like a month. She pointed at the glasses on the counter, then quickly curled her index finger when she saw that it was shaking. “Also, you could get us something to drink.”

  He opened the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of tea. Moved back to the counter and hesitated before pouring. “How did things go at the bar last night?”

  “Dad.” Kerry turned, both hands tightening around the pepper mill. “What did I just say about what we won’t be discussing?”

  Harris set down the pitcher. “Snoozy knows damned well you didn’t take that money. He didn’t fire you, did he? If he did so help me God—”

  “He didn’t fire me.” Not yet, anyway. “He called this morning to let me know he’s scheduled an employee meeting.” So much for relaxing on her day off. She hadn’t even managed her Monday morning sleep-in. “It’s at two tomorrow. We’ll all find out then what he has in mind.”

  Hence the comfort meal. Maybe a food coma would help her sleep tonight.

  Of course she knew better. Thoughts of Gil would keep her up. Too often they were thoughts of how delighted she used to be when Gil kept her up.

  Her breath hitched and she fumbled with the pepper mill, then placed it on the counter behind her.

  Harris held open his arms, and with a grunt of gratitude, she took him up on his offer. She laid her head on his shoulder and he held her for a long while, patting her back.

  “I’m sorry about you and Gil,” he said.

  She couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “Three for three, Dad. You succeeded in bringing up every subject I wanted to avoid.”

  When he pulled away and stomped toward the kitchen door, Kerry shoved the hair out of her eyes. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “By the time I get through with that softheaded, hard-hearted, tool trafficking bastard, he’ll have to purchase a fuel line from himself so he’ll have something to use to suck up his lunch.”

  “Dad!” Holy Hannah. Kerry curled her finger through a loop on his overalls. “Leave Gil alone. Besides, I thought you said no more flying off the handle?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Maybe you should have, because this is not a good example to set for the baby.”

  He stopped, and blew out a breath. “You’re right. Anyways, I’d rather stay here and dig into that meatloaf.”

  “Good idea.” Kerry released him, and moved back to the stove. When he sidled up next to her and reached for the salt shaker, she smacked his knuckles. “So. Are you going to tell me now, or after we finish eating?”

  The tips of his ears turned instantly red. “Tell you what?”

  “You were practically bursting with good news when you came in. Anything I should know?”

  He stopped fighting the grin that had to hurt, it was so expansive. “Genie and I are gettin’ married.”

  “You are? Dad, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!” She set aside the spoon and clapped her hands. “Holy Hannah. Engaged.” Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, reveling in the fact that she felt comfortable enough to hug him. And that he felt comfortable enough to accept it.

  He untangled himself and beamed. “I think we finally got it figured out this time.”

  “I’m so glad. She should be here. We should celebrate. You deserve a celebration.” Easy, chickie. She was starting to ramble. She couldn’t have been more thrilled for the two of them, and yet it felt like every motion she made was underwater.

  “Though after all you two have been through,” she added, “you deserve a party that involves something fancier than meatloaf.”

  Maybe even a different hostess. Though Eugenia was clearly relieved that Harris and Kerry had patched things up, she still acted a tad frosty around Kerry. She really had loved that apartment. Luckily a lot of progress had been made getting it cleaned up. Allison’s husband, Joe, had sprung for a Dumpster. Kerry did what hauling and cleaning she could in the morning before work, while Gil, Seth and Joe pitched in renovation labor whenever they found the time. And every day without fail, Dylan showed up after school. Chastened, but determined.

  “Genie’s workin’ on some kind of shindig,” her father said. “We’ll let you know.” His expression dimmed. “I’m sorry to be springin’ this on you when you and Gil—”

  “Don’t even,” she said, and something jagged moved in her chest as she realized she’d borrowed one of Gil’s favorite phrases.

  The doorbell rang and Kerry turned down the burner. “Is that her? If it is, we should have a toast. Wine for you, and I’m sure there’s some juice in the fridge for me. I’ll look.”

  Scratching
his head, her father ambled out of the kitchen. “Hold that thought. I didn’t think she was coming over tonight.”

  As Kerry rummaged through the fridge, finally unearthing a bottle of apple juice, she heard voices in the living room. Masculine voices.

  Gil?

  She popped upright and held her breath, deliberately leaving the fridge open to battle the sudden swelter of apprehension.

  Her father appeared in the doorway, face pale, expression grave. “Kerry girl? The sheriff’s here. He wants to see you.”

  * * *

  GIL RESTARTED HIS truck and dialed up the heater. His fingers had stiffened, and the tips of his ears stung. But the pre-dawn April chill didn’t bother him anywhere near as much as the time.

  Three in the morning and Kerry still wasn’t home from her shift at Snoozy’s. What the hell was she doing out so late? She needed her sleep.

  The baby needed her sleep. His sleep. Something light and bouncing unfurled in Gil’s chest. He’d been fantasizing for days about how it would feel to hold his child in his arms, but the imaginings had his heart pulsing with as much grief as jubilation, because he’d screwed up royally with Kerry.

  She’d proved her determination to make things right, again and again, yet when she’d needed his trust the most, he’d let her down.

  Now it was his turn to make things right. He had to find a way to undo the damage he’d done because life frickin’ sucked without her. It wouldn’t be easy to convince her to give him another chance. She refused to return his calls, and she hadn’t come by the hardware store like he’d asked via Harris. He’d stayed away from the bar because he didn’t want to upset her at work, but he’d finally realized that wasn’t the right way to handle things.

  It had been over two weeks since he’d made the biggest mistake of his life and it was way past time to rectify it.

  She needed to know how much he loved her. She needed to see he’d go to any lengths to win her back.

  Hence the fifty-degree vigil outside Harris’s place. He’d sit out here naked if he thought it would make a difference.

  He turned off the engine, and in the sudden stillness heard the whinny-like call of a screech owl. Then he heard the sound he’d been waiting for—the oncoming rumble of Kerry’s car. The swing of her headlights as she turned in to Harris’s driveway fell just short of Gil’s pickup.

  He rubbed his palms on his jeans and scraped a hand through his hair, then got out of his truck. She was halfway up the walk when he slammed his door shut and she spun at the sound, hand on her chest.

  He half expected her to make a run for it, but she stood her ground. He found out why when he stopped in front of her and she whacked him with her purse, a la Audrey Tweedy.

  “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said gravely. “But these are desperate times.” The lights on either side of Harris’s front door cast an amber glow that emphasized the shadows under Kerry’s eyes and made her wavy hair glimmer. He reached out to stroke her cheek. When she flinched, he dropped his hand.

  “You’re not returning my calls.”

  “I’m not cutting you out. I’m taking time to adjust.” Her words were clipped, her eyes bleak. Her fingers were rolled into snug fists.

  “Are you planning to stay in Castle Creek?” he asked, and held his breath.

  She pulled her sweater, a dark baggy thing that reached to her knees, tighter around her waist. “I know you expect me to take off in a huff. But I have someone else in my life to consider now, and taking this baby away from his or her family is not the right thing to do.”

  He remembered what she’d said about alternating pronouns, and the sweetness of it pierced his heart. Then she shuddered and made him feel like even more of an ass.

  “You’re cold,” he said. “Can we go inside and talk? Maybe make a pot of coffee?”

  Her glance told him not only no, but hell, no.

  He rubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, I’m sorry I reacted the way I did the other night. I have no excuse. I was an out-and-out son of a bitch and I deserve a thorough ass-kicking. But please, Kerry.” He reached for her hands, and this time she didn’t shy away. He pressed her chilled skin between his palms and raised them to his heart. “I know you panicked. I know you wouldn’t have followed through on any of those things you said. Can’t you understand that I panicked, too? Please give me another chance.”

  “What’s ironic is that I can’t trust you,” she whispered. “I can’t trust that this is about me and not the baby. Or some misguided need to make amends with your family. With your father.”

  “You are my family.” When she didn’t respond he squeezed her hands tighter. “I blew up at you the other night because I’m tired of being conned.” When she tugged on her hands, he held fast. “The thing is, I ended up conning myself. I convinced myself I couldn’t overlook your mistakes. But that’s exactly what I’m prepared to do as a parent. It’s what I told Dylan he needed to do. Forgive and move on. I’m as bad as Harris. I moved beyond your past a long time ago but was too chicken to admit it because the thought of not having you in my life hurts like hell.”

  She tugged on her hands again, and this time he let go. Down the street a dog started to bark and someone shouted a protest.

  “You heard about the money,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  He nodded grimly. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Did you know the sheriff came by to tell me? That up until the moment he said Burke Yancey’s name, even I was wondering if I’d done it?” She choked out a poor excuse for a laugh. “But Snoozy believed in me. We had a staff meeting after he got back from his honeymoon, before we found out about Burke. I tried to apologize, but Snoozy wouldn’t let me. He offered me a permanent position at the bar. Apparently Audrey wants to travel.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Kerry...”

  The look on her face made it clear she wasn’t up for another apology. He swore under his breath.

  “Did you find out why Burke did it?”

  “I’m the why. Apparently Ruthie resented me for getting the manager’s position instead of Liz. Burke figured he’d impress Ruthie by making me look bad and it didn’t take much—he’s always hanging around the kitchen, anyway. When he finally told her what he’d done, she drove him and the cash to the sheriff’s office.” Kerry was moving now, shifting side to side to stay warm. “And here you have the other reason I won’t consider a relationship. I loved my husband and I did things for him...” She shook her head. “I won’t put myself in that position again.”

  “That’s bullshit. You’re saying you don’t trust either one of us and I don’t buy it.”

  “You were right about me. Everything you said about how I can’t face up to responsibility. The reason I took that deal that landed me with home detention? It wasn’t what the police assumed, that I wanted to get back at Trent for cheating on me. It wasn’t even because I was anxious to get started on making amends. It was because I wanted to hurry up and hide. I couldn’t face what I’d done.”

  “We both know that’s in the past.”

  “What does that even matter?” She rubbed the cold-reddened tip of her nose. “You already said you couldn’t trust me.”

  “I was wrong.” He turned his head to stare up the quiet road, flanked by dew-damp grass that glinted in the moonlight. “No, I wasn’t wrong. I lied. I lied because sometimes the thought of being responsible for you and the baby scares the ever-loving hell out of me.” He threw out his arms. “You were right. I’m stuck. Ferrell, too. We’re stuck in these roles we’ve played for years and years and meanwhile our parents moved on. Not necessarily to better things, obviously, but at least they got out of the rut. But my brother and me? Too chickenshit to fight the status quo
.”

  “That’s not true. You made the decision to switch to teaching. The baby and I forced you to set that aside.”

  He turned back and stared into her gorgeous green eyes, currently misted with defeat. “I did resent that,” he admitted. “But only at first. It wasn’t long before I realized that nothing was more important than making sure our baby feels loved.”

  Kerry sucked in a quavering breath. But she didn’t speak, and she didn’t touch him.

  “I put the store up for sale,” he blurted.

  “Y-you did?”

  “Yeah. I finally realized that turning Cooper’s into a shrine was not the best way to honor my parents.”

  “Holy Hannah.” She stepped in for an awkward hug, pulling away almost before their chests could make contact. “Good for you.”

  Except he felt like he was toting a load ten times heavier than the beer-soaked wing chair he’d carried out of Eugenia’s apartment and dropped into the Dumpster.

  “You’re what’s good for me,” he said savagely. “I’d never have made the decision to sell without you.”

  “You’ve known all along what you wanted to do.”

  “I need you, Kerry. You and the baby. I love you. I don’t want to do this without you.”

  “Do what?”

  “Any of it.”

  She palmed his cheek. “Like you once told me, give yourself a frickin’ break. You don’t need me. You just need to continue proving to yourself what you’re capable of. I need to do the same.”

  “You’re saying we can’t do that if we’re together.”

  She pulled her hand away and backed toward the porch steps. “You deserve someone you’ll never doubt. And I deserve someone who’ll never doubt me.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep himself from holding her prisoner on that bottom step. She was going to back right into the house, and shut and lock the door between them, and God knew when he’d see her again.