Mom in the Middle

by Mae Nunn

  She forced herself to ease the pressure she’d applied around his taut waist and tipped her head back, expecting to see pity in his eyes that her need for physical contact was as blatant as her son’s. What he telegraphed with his gaze was far from pity.

  Guy dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. Softly, with no insistence. Gently, making no demands.

  “What in blazes is all that ruckus about at bedtime?” Her dad’s voice carried down the hallway just before they heard the squeak of his chair.

  She went to pull away but Guy held her to his side.

  “It’s okay. I can hug you two, can’t I?”

  “Sure,” she agreed. There was nothing wrong with that between friends, was there?

  But what about that kiss I was about to return?

  “Papa,” Dillon greeted his grandpa but made no move to lean away from Guy’s arm.

  “Well, what a cozy picture you three make. I can see I’m about as necessary in here as lips on a chicken,” Shorty grumbled miserably. He maintained a hangdog expression on his weathered face for several long seconds before the smallest signs of a wily grin began to form.

  Abby didn’t know which was worse—having her father upset by the scene before him or having him pleased by it. Either way it was a no-win situation for everybody. She tapped Guy lightly on the back and, blessedly, he took the hint. His arm dropped from around her and he casually used the free hand to goose Dillon in the ribs. The baby arched his back and giggled at the game he and Guy played, taking turns tickling and laughing. It was no wonder her son had become so attached to the first man who’d been able to get on a toddler’s level, roll on the floor and give piggyback rides.

  “Hey, Daddy,” she said, grazing over the tender moment.

  “Good evening, sir. I just dropped by to see if you needed anything and we were all saying hello.”

  He bent to extend his hand. The two men gripped firmly, the light of friendship beginning to glow in their eyes. She was reminded of the first day Guy had come to their home. The scene outside the laundry room where the bonding had begun, despite her father’s reluctance. She tried to recall the envy she’d felt but could only conjure up a warm feeling of appreciation for the companionship Guy had freely offered her father when he’d needed it most. In His wisdom, God had brought these two honorable men together, if only for a season. Was Guy’s mission to help heal all their hearts from former grief and then leave them with new heartache?

  “You’re always welcome here, son. Sorry if I’ve seemed a tad grouchy.”

  “A tad?” Guy quirked his eyebrows upward at the understatement.

  Shorty snorted, the only agreement he was normally willing to give.

  “Some days are just harder than others,” he admitted. “This business with Sarah being gone is almost over and then, the good Lord willin’ we can get back to normal.”

  Guy wondered what normal meant in this home. In his adult years he’d come to understand that the Hardy family was unique in this day of high divorce rates and single-parent homes. A big family, secure in ways that mattered most was definitely becoming an anomaly.

  So maybe Shorty was right and normal was a family with problems, illness, financial worries and loss. Guy’s gut churned from the revelation. How had he failed to understand that before now? How many times had he set away or, worse, driven away a woman who’d come to care for him after he’d helped her out of a tight spot, then dated her for a short while? It wasn’t that he didn’t respect her feelings, it was just that his mattered more.

  Ugh. What a creep.

  “Don’t mention it, sir.” He crossed to the rocker beside the spot where Shorty had positioned his chair. “Do you mind?” He asked Abby’s permission to sit with her son. She nodded and he settled carefully, shifted Dillon low so he could cuddle up comfortably and rest against a warm shoulder. The towhead of whisper-fine locks tucked beneath Guy’s chin. A perfect fit. Again a burning sensation behind his eyes caught him unaware. He lowered his head, brushed his chin against the blond softness and planted a quiet kiss on Dillon’s cheek.

  “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll put this boy down,” Abby offered.

  “Oh, please let me hold him a while. I haven’t seen my nieces and nephews in months and I could use some Uncle Guy practice.” Practice? Fix was more like it.

  Her brown eyes were puzzled. They held a message he didn’t quite understand. She seemed to approve of his closeness with her family, but was he taking it too far? Had he crossed a line? First there was the hug, and then that kiss. What was he thinking? And now this need to comfort Dillon. Even Guy had to admit that for a man determined not to have a family of his own, he was sending mixed signals.

  Off-limits behavior with a single mom, Casey would say.

  He’d clear that up before he left.

  “How can I refuse a request like that?” A sad smile curved her pretty lips.

  Yep, he had to clear up any seeds of misconception his selfish acts might have planted.

  “I’ll get back to the practice tests I was sorting over here on the table. Signal when you’re ready for me to put him in his crib.”

  Abby moved to the other side of the room to work in view of where Guy sat rocking Dillon. Her arms and legs were tanned from afternoons of gardening at the church and helping out in the backyard. She folded one bare foot beneath her bottom and perched on the edge of an oak dining-room chair, colorful stacks scattered across its surface. She punched a button on her portable CD player and an unfamiliar tune punctuated with street lyrics poured from the small speakers.

  “Baby girl, how about turning down that racket?”

  “It’s called hip-hop, Daddy.” She rolled her eyes at Guy and lowered the volume but continued to bob her head to the beat.

  “What passes for music these days is beyond all adult comprehension,” Shorty muttered. “I don’t know how the youngsters stand it, do you?”

  Ouch! A reminder of the significant age difference between himself and Abby. If Shorty was intentionally going for that point, he’d hit right on the mark.

  Guy tried to focus on their conversation as the older man launched into the discussion he’d flatly refused to have only the day before. The details of the home reconstruction were important. The work needed to begin right away if they hoped to have it finished within two weeks. But with the scent of baby powder tickling his nose, the sound of Dillon’s soft snoring endearing to Guy’s ears and the pleasing sight of Abby engrossed in her work only a few yards away, concentration eluded him.

  “So I was thinking I might buy a new Ford and join the NASCAR circuit.”

  “Good idea,” Guy agreed.

  “Or maybe pick up a dozen huskies and train for the Iditarod.”

  “Iditarod?” The old man had finally snapped. He was talking crazy. Guy turned his attention to Shorty and was greeted by dark eyes sparkling beneath bushy gray brows. His thin arms were folded across his chest, his jaw set in that stubborn line that was clearly the family trademark.

  “Busted, punk, as the reality TV cops say right before the takedown.” He winked, leaned forward and lowered his voice so his words would be masked by the music. “You’re still in denial, I see. You cover your feelings for my girl about as well as your hair covers the crown of your head.”

  He cackled at the insult and patted Guy’s arm with a bony hand to indicate no harm was meant. “You better wake up and smell the bacon before it’s too late. You’ll be gone for good in a few weeks and a girl as special as mine may never cross your path again.” He nodded toward the sleeping boy. “Same goes for my precious grandson. I never told this to anybody, but before Phillip deployed I promised him his child would always be in good hands. I’d say that’s where he is right now, wouldn’t you?”

  Guy nodded, lost for words at what was sounding for all the world like Shorty’s blessing. He rested his cheek against Dillon’s warm head and prayed.

  Father, I’ve been so wrapped up in my decisions
for my life that I haven’t made time to listen for Your will. I know You have a plan for all of us, but mine’s been mapped out for so long that I never thought it would change. Have You put me in this family’s path to make it better, or have You put them in mine to teach me a lesson? I don’t know which it is, Lord, so how about revealing a little more to me? And soon!

  Dillon’s snores grew louder. “Looks like this little fella is down for the count.” Guy chuckled at the baby bear rumbling.

  Abby’s head popped up, but before she could make a move, Guy stood.

  “Keep your seat. I know the way.” He cradled the boy close, stepped around Shorty’s wheelchair and made his way down the corridor that had become so familiar he could navigate it in the darkness. He settled his precious cargo into the crib, keeping the warmth of a protective hand on Dillon’s back until the steady snores resumed.

  “You’ve got quite a fan there, you know.” Abby’s whisper came from the doorway. He didn’t take his eyes off the boy.

  “The feeling is mutual. He’s adorable, Abby.” Just like his mama.

  The boards creaked beneath her feet as she stepped closer and stopped beside him. He glanced to his right, looked down into brown eyes that sparkled in the glow of the small night-light he’d fashioned to look like Big Bird.

  “Can we talk outside?” she asked softly.

  “Sure, I need to get out of your hair so why don’t you walk me out to the truck?”

  Back in the front room, the two men arranged a drop-off time the next day for building supplies while Abby slid her bare feet into rubber thongs.

  She followed him out to the darkened front porch and pulled the door closed behind them. Before he could take the three concrete steps down to the sidewalk, he felt her hand on his forearm, preventing his progress. This would be the time to set things straight. To apologize for the impetuous kiss and assure her it wouldn’t happen again.

  “I need to ask a big favor.” Her voice was soft. She buffed palms against crossed arms as if fighting off a chill.

  “Anything.”

  Her hands fell limp at her sides. In the dark it was hard to see her face, to read the expression in her sable eyes. Why was she reluctant to speak up, to verbalize this “big favor” she had to ask?

  Then it hit him. Money. She was going to ask for money. What else could possibly make her this uncomfortable?

  “Abby, what do you need?”

  She spoke so softly he couldn’t hear.

  “I’m sorry, hon, say that again.”

  She sucked her lungs full of air and let out a tired sigh that made him want to wrap her in his arms till some of his strength passed into her lovely body.

  “Would you hug me again?” She didn’t reach out to him. Didn’t wiggle an inch. In fact, he was almost positive she expected rejection.

  His spirit ached at the idea that she thought he might actually refuse her, that she assumed he’d only do it as a favor. As much as women thrive on reassuring words, seeing was what really enabled believing. His answer came easily. He closed the short space between them, opened his arms. She hesitated. Shy now that she had to make a move of her own.

  A long moment passed. Abby bit the inside of her lip, considered backing out, thanked God the overhead light was out and Guy couldn’t see the tears threatening. Being needy was bad enough. Being chicken on top of it was too much for her pride.

  Lord give me courage was all the prayer she had time for.

  Just as her son had done an hour earlier, she shamelessly threw herself against Guy, wound her arms around his waist, pressed her palms flat against his back and pulled herself to him tightly. He folded around her, tucked her beneath his chin and stroked her tired shoulders with sure, firm hands.

  “What’s all this about?” he murmured into her hair.

  She couldn’t speak. Between the need lumped up in her throat and the wild pounding of her heart, no breath could whistle through her vocal cords to produce sound.

  She’d just have to show him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abby skimmed her palms across Guy’s physique as she slid them away from his back and up the front of his chest. She stood on tiptoe, locked her hands behind his neck and pulled his face within a couple inches of hers.

  “I have a revelation for you.” She was bold.

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.” She nodded, drawing out the moment, enjoying the closeness of a man more than she ever thought possible.

  “Well…” He leaned in to her. “How about sharing it?” The words were a husky whisper.

  “If that kiss had lasted a moment longer, I’d have returned it.” She recognized the same quality in her own voice. The feelings were painfully evident, at least to her ears.

  He turned his face from side to side, searching the dark confines of the small porch. “I don’t see anybody or anything stopping you from doing that now.” He stilled, gave her control of the decision.

  Her blood raced, pulse resounded in her ears. If she waited another second her knees were going to buckle and he’d have to catch her, or worse help her up off the concrete floor.

  She risked the smallest beginning, let her lips softly touch his. He sighed and took the control back as his mouth covered hers, searching her very soul with his kiss. They clung together for long minutes, exchanging tender touches and murmured words.

  He pulled away, took a step back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Abby, I’m so tempted to do that again. Please go inside before I forget all the reasons why this is a bad idea.”

  Bad idea?

  The sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced was just condensed into two words.

  Bad idea!

  “You’re right, of course.” She ducked her head and passed the back of her hand across her lips, still trembling from his touch.

  A bolt of lightning split the sky above their heads. A clap of thunder resounded close enough to set off the alarm in the H&H truck. Guy pulled the keys from his pocket just as the heavens opened and released enough rain to turn the narrow driveway into a new tributary of the Colorado.

  “I’ll call you,” he yelled over the torrential pounding on the roof, and made a run for it.

  Abby’s sinking spirits lifted at the sight of Guy’s drenched body struggling with the door that wouldn’t open until the alarm was disengaged, something that seemed to take several tries before he was successful. By the time he scrambled into the truck, he was soaked to the skin.

  She opened the screen door, stepped inside the quiet house and watched as the man who’d just called their kiss a bad idea disappeared into the downpour.

  If, as Texans claimed, the Lone Star State was God’s country, then Austin had turned into His swimmin’ hole! The rest of the week it rained as if Noah himself had called it down. The thoroughfares flooded; the mayor asked all but emergency vehicles to stay off the streets and naturally, school was canceled. Critical days of test preparation were lost and would have to be recovered somehow. It was makeup work that weighed heavily on Abby’s mind since her kids’ placement in the year-end skills tests was a direct reflection on her teaching ability.

  Then there was the misery of being confined to the stuffy house when they’d all rather be outside, Dillon digging in his sandbox, Daddy making his daily commute to visit Mama and Abby doing the hundred things that needed to be accomplished that week. The weather would set her back much more than the couple of days it lasted because it would be many more before the earth dried out enough to continue the playground project.

  Mother’s Day was closing in. Instead of being the happy celebration it had been in the past, it was looming on the calendar, a deadline with so much riding on it.

  Friday morning the phone jangled at 6:00 a.m.

  “Who in blue blazes is making calls at this hour?”

  “I’ve got it, Daddy,” Abby called toward her parents’ bedroom as she cinched the belt of her cotton robe and reached for the wall phone that hung just
inside the kitchen door.

  Who indeed? Only the rehab center would be calling so early, though she wasn’t about to say so. She planted her feet, grabbed the handset and prepared for the worst.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, sunshine!”

  “Guy?” Her voice rose.

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  She glanced at the kitchen clock for confirmation.

  “Well, it’s barely six and I was afraid it might be the hospital calling.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, hon. I wouldn’t worry you like that even for a moment.”

  “It’s okay. What’s up that has you on the phone so early?”

  “First, I wanted to apologize for not calling to check on you for a few days. I’ve been really busy with a Mother’s Day deadline of my own, but I wanted to make it a priority to see if you needed anything this morning.”

  “I need the sun to come out today and dry up all this water so I can get something done this weekend. Now we’ll never be ready for the dedication.” She sounded whiny. Well, shoot, she had a right to be disappointed. The results of her hard work were probably being washed away as they spoke.

  Guy chuckled on his end of the phone.

  “Please tell me what you find amusing about that.”

  “Get your jeans on and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. The water has subsided on the major roads so we can go for a ride and I’ll show you.”

  “I can’t go off and leave Dillon alone with Dad, and I have to be at school by noon.” The rain had let up overnight and teachers had been asked to report to work by midday.

  “We’ll take Dillon with us and I’ll have you back home by nine. I’ll treat us all to a hearty breakfast at Flapjack Heaven. Those genius Carlton brothers just opened up their hundredth location not too far from New Harvest and they’re giving away all kinds crazy of prizes to celebrate. I thought I might get some ideas for the picnic this weekend. Then afterwards, we can drive by the church and see how the place has held up against the weather.”