by Susan Crosby
“And now you’re in deep. Too deep to recover?”
“Everyone recovers, Mom. Eventually. You got over Dad, right?”
Dolly looked away, took a sip of her iced tea. “Sure.”
Laura went still. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not, sweetie. I was just remembering. I got over him, but it took years, and him getting married to someone else.”
A sandbag seemed to have dropped onto Laura’s lap. “You never told me.”
“I was furious. Then devastated. I had to put him out of my head.”
Laura could barely breathe. “Did he have more children? Do I have siblings?”
“I don’t know. I can tell you where he’s living, if you want to find out for yourself. He lets me know when he moves.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “After the first note, I stopped opening them. But I have them in a file, and you’re welcome to have them, if you want.”
“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it, Mom?”
“You never asked.”
Laura fixed her gaze on her mother.
“Oh, all right. I didn’t want you to get hurt anymore. He walked out without looking back. If he had regrets later, he could’ve come here and made amends. I never moved, would never have denied him the chance to see you.” Dolly squeezed Laura’s hand. “I thought he was my soul mate. I loved him with all my heart. But love wasn’t enough. It really never is, no matter how much people spout otherwise. And it’s certainly not enough when it’s one-sided.”
“Why did he marry you?”
Her mother’s smile was crooked. “I guess you’re old enough to know now. Because of you, sweetie.”
“You were pregnant?” Too many revelations at once had Laura’s head spinning.
“Four months.”
“Why didn’t I ever know about this?”
“What purpose would it have served?”
Laura couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard it at some point through the years, especially during high school, when teenagers sometimes took great pleasure in revealing others’ dirty laundry. “It’s part of my history, Mom.”
“Mothers do what we can to protect our young.”
“You act like you’re a mama bear and I’m your cub, needing to be kept safe from predators. I haven’t been in need of protection for a long time.”
“I thought about telling you when you graduated and became an adult, more as a cautionary tale, so that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes I did. Then you got sick. You had a hard enough row to hoe then.”
Laura decided she could waste time and energy being angry at her mother for keeping such a secret—or just get past it. She chose the gentler path. “Do you regret it? Having me? Making your way in the world solo?”
“Not one bit. Not one single bit. I could’ve married again. I had opportunities and even a few marriage proposals, frankly. But I think you learned how to build a wall around your emotions because I did, too. I’m sorry for that.”
“You denied yourself the possibility of happiness.”
“My life is far from over, you know. I’m only forty-nine—an age you’ll find yourself before you know it.” Dolly leaned toward Laura. “Does he love you?”
“He hasn’t said so. More important, we want different things, Mom. He hasn’t figured out his own life yet. I’m not sure he’s going to be around much.”
“He won’t leave Ethan alone for long periods.”
“I don’t think he has a choice. He’s in the top tier, and he thrives on it. He’ll want to set an example for Ethan, too—that you should do what you love. I figure he’ll take off more time than he used to, but that’s it.”
“Well, you know him better than I do.”
They went quiet for a long while. Laura couldn’t go home, not without being seen, and she needed some time alone. Needed to cocoon.
She’d known it was going to be hard, having him living across the street. She just hadn’t realized it was going to be impossible.
Chapter Sixteen
“W here the hell are you? The Giants’ ballpark?”
Even with all the noise surrounding him, Donovan recognized the NewsView executive editor’s voice over his cell phone. “Close,” Donovan said. “My mom’s backyard. My son’s birthday party. What’s up?”
Rupert Cole liked to brag that he’d discovered Donovan, who’d decided years ago to let Rupert think that. It never hurt to be an editor’s favorite.
“How do you like the sound of Special Projects Editor?”
Donovan walked away from the party, going out the side gate and onto the front porch, sensing that this phone call was going to be one of the most momentous of his life. “How do I like it for what?”
“For the job of a lifetime.”
“Are you making me an offer?”
“Yeah. One you can’t refuse.”
Donovan sat on the stoop of his mother’s house. He knew all the titles at NewsView. Special Projects Editor wasn’t one of them. “You created a job for me?”
“You got it.”
“Why?”
“Because we want to keep you.”
“What makes you think you wouldn’t?”
“Gimme a break, D. You have no interest in going overseas for months at a time anymore. Or maybe even days. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He couldn’t—but he hadn’t known for sure until Rupert just said it, making it real.
“Right,” his wise editor continued when Donovan said nothing. “So, here’s the deal. Special Projects Editor. You get to run your own show, and you’ll answer only to me. You’ll work out of the bureau here in D.C. I think the salary will make you happy. Plus, you’ll have benefits. Profit sharing. Stability. That’s what you want most, right? For you and Ethan?”
Benefits. Stability. Not the edge-of-the-cliff life of before, but a grown-up job. Calling his own shots. A chance to own a home. A steady income. Excellent schools for his son. Donovan already had a wide circle of friends and contacts in D.C.
“When do you need an answer, Rupert?”
“Schools here start in three weeks.”
Three weeks. And in Chance City, ten days. Ethan was already registered. They’d walked the campus, checking it out, had peered into the kindergarten classroom, analyzed the playground equipment for the level of fun and challenge.
“I appreciate this more than I can say,” Donovan told his editor. “I need to tell you that I’ve got something else in the works.”
“I heard.” He chuckled. “It’s a small world, our world. I don’t have a problem with you pursuing that at the same time.”
It was more than he could’ve hoped for—but was it an offer he couldn’t refuse? “I’ll get back to you. Thanks, Rupert. Not just for the job offer, but for what it represents, too. I appreciate the confidence.”
“You’ve earned it, D. I’ll e-mail you more details. Figure you’re interested in how much we think you’re worth. I know it won’t be as exciting as being in the field, but being in charge should help. I’ll be home the rest of the weekend, if you want to talk.”
Donovan slid the phone into his pocket but continued to sit on the stair, aware of the party noise from the back side of the house, but not ready to face it yet.
“Donovan?”
Laura stood in front of him. He hadn’t heard her approach.
“We’re about ready for the piñata.”
He straightened. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Is everything okay?”
He ran his hands along his thighs, then stood. “Maybe. Any chance I can come by later and talk to you about it?”
“Of course.”
“It’ll have to be after Ethan goes to bed. I’ll ask one of my nieces to babysit.”
“That’s fine.”
He returned to the backyard with her, aware of her curiosity. Aware of her, period. As he always was. They’d had little time together the past couple of weeks. It had been more compl
icated than he’d thought, living across the street. He knew when she came and went. He saw her in the kitchen. Saw when her lights went out at night, wishing he could join her.
The days she worked in Sacramento now, she stayed until dark, something new. Ethan was already in bed when she drove in.
The house was too quiet when his son was sleeping. Donovan had gotten used to people coming in and out all the time at his mom’s house. He’d never expected to miss that.
He and Laura had slept together only twice since he’d moved into the house, both times rushed, both times physically satisfying but vaguely unsatisfying, too. She’d seemed a little distant, and he’d started to feel uncomfortable with the…arrangement. He couldn’t call it a relationship, since they still hadn’t gone public with it. He didn’t like the hiding.
But maybe it’d been the right thing to do, after all. It could make leaving easier, not just on them but also Ethan, since he didn’t have a clue about how Donovan and Laura felt about each other.
He stopped in his tracks. Did he even know how they felt about each other?
“You’re scaring me,” Laura said, her gaze intense.
“I apologize.” People were looking at them—his brothers, his mom. Nana Mae. He hadn’t yet followed through on his promise to take his grandmother to lunch. She wouldn’t let him off the hook too much longer. “Everything’s all right, Laura.”
She walked away, sat between Dixie and Keri again, and Donovan made himself get back into the spirit of the celebration. Ethan had met three other five-year-olds recently, who were now waiting their turn to hit the piñata. He was settling in, making friends. How could Donovan take him away from that?
For the job of a lifetime? How could you not?
As Joe handled the piñata portion of the party, Donovan lingered in the background. He knew why he’d left Chance City all those years ago. He’d had good reason, a calling, and a need to fulfill it. He’d done that, could continue to, probably at even greater success and fame. And personal satisfaction, something he’d gloried in.
He could admit that now. He’d reveled in his success. Anne had been right—he’d been driven by his career, to the detraction of all else. He’d set a course and stayed on it, picking up speed year by year.
And what do you have to show for it?
Plenty. Success beyond his dreams. He’d been places most people never went, experienced firsthand what most never would. And he was only thirty-three years old. He still had a lifetime of such experiences ahead of him.
At what cost?
He studied his son, who was laughing uproariously as he tried to hit the piñata blindfolded. A mere month ago he’d been shy and cautious. He would’ve needed Donovan by his side, holding his hand.
Or Laura.
Donovan’s gaze slid to her. Her eyes sparkled as she watched Ethan. She leaned closer to Dixie now and then to comment, but her gaze never strayed from his son.
She fit. She was surrounded by McCoys like a fine wine amid longneck bottles of beer. But she fit. He’d seen her go up to his mom today and give her a hug, something she wouldn’t have done a month ago. Like Ethan, she’d settled in.
So have you.
Yes. So had he.
Donovan made his way to where his grandmother sat, enjoying the festivities. “I’m wondering what your calendar is like?” he asked, crouching beside her. “Do you have time for lunch this week?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m free tomorrow, after church.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon. We can take a drive up to Tahoe, have lunch, play the nickel slots a little.” Before her stroke a couple of years ago, she’d loved that kind of day.
“Let’s just go to the Lode. It was sweet of you to offer, Donny, but I don’t have the energy for anything more than that.”
It was the first time she’d admitted it to him. She generally resisted any hint that she’d slowed down. How many years did she have left? She was eighty-nine. She had every right to take it easy.
“I’m fine,” she said, patting his cheek. “Don’t look so worried.”
He’d observed the fragility of life so many times, in so many places. In the middle of a war there was no time to contemplate it. But here, where his life had begun and with his grandmother sitting beside him, aging minute by minute, he thought about it. She was becoming more fragile day by day, but only in body. In spirit she was as strong as ever, maybe stronger. Her perspective on his situation would be different, clearer.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“Oh, my sweet boy!” She framed his face, her eyes glistening. “You always were the one to surprise me the most. And not always in a good way,” she added with a laugh. “I love you, too.”
His gut unclenched. He patted her shoulder and moved next to Jake, who happened to be standing behind Keri, and therefore close to Laura. He held Isabella, was swaying a little, bouncing a little.
Donovan studied his niece, her eyes drifting shut, then popping open at the sound of the stick hitting the piñata or people cheering.
“Could I take over?” he asked his brother. A couple of months ago, Jake had set Isabella in Donovan’s hands, but he’d given her back almost instantly, unsure.
Jake didn’t hesitate. He transferred his daughter to Donovan’s arms. She stared at her uncle, serious and intent, then suddenly smiled, transforming her beautiful little face. His heart melted.
“There’s nothing like it,” Jake said.
“I missed this part of the dad experience.” Another reason not to forgive Anne.
Laura twisted around to face him. “You look very natural,” she said, a smile on her lips but not in her eyes.
Isabella slept finally as they finished up with the piñata, then throughout the opening of the gifts.
“Last one,” Aggie said, carrying a large, flat, rectangular package. “The card says Ethan and Donovan.”
“Come on, Dad! Help me open it.”
Donovan passed the soundly sleeping Isabella back to Jake, then joined Ethan, who’d plucked the envelope from the package and handed it to Donovan.
“It’s from Laura,” Donovan said, reading the card.
“I already got a present from Laura.” A pair of shields, encrusted in plastic gems, matching the swords from before.
“I guess she thinks you need two.”
Ethan just grinned.
They peeled off the paper together, revealing a framed canvas painting of father and son. Oohs and aahs followed.
“Look, Dad! It’s us!”
Donovan swallowed hard. Them, indeed, looking like a matched set, each of them wearing blue shirts, their heads touching, beaming with the same smile. He remembered that day in the park, had forgotten Laura had taken photographs. She’d had this one turned into a portrait, a tangible memory.
“Thank you,” he managed to say to her. They might as well have been alone, because she was the only person he saw. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it. Mom painted it.”
The McCoy circle had expanded even more with the addition of Dolly, who’d spent most of the day talking with Aggie, as if they were old friends. Maybe they were. Donovan didn’t know.
He sat back and looked around. This was his tribe. His village. His people.
His family.
“Have you had a good day?” he asked his son.
“The best.” Ethan hugged him, long and hard, something he’d learned from his Grandma Aggie, Donovan figured.
“Me, too,” Donovan said.
But was it enough? He was itching for more in his life, something the new job could provide. The backyard at his rental was finished, but the lawn too new and tender to host a family party yet, which was why they were at Aggie’s. The fact that he’d even considered throwing a party still surprised him.
Aggie started singing “Happy Birthday,” everyone joining in right away. Five candles were lit on the chocolate-cake-with-chocolate-frosting request from th
e birthday boy, who grinned from ear to ear.
If Donovan turned down the job, Ethan could grow up here, where he wouldn’t have the global experiences of living in D.C., but where he was already loved and accepted. That trade-off for Ethan would be fine.
The question was, would it be fine for Donovan?
Chapter Seventeen
L aura climbed out of her pool and grabbed a towel, burying her face in it. She’d swum lap after lap after lap, had stopped counting how many. Her arms ached. Her hips and thighs swore at her.
Outside the French doors to her bedroom, she stripped off her suit, wrapped up in her towel and went inside. Nine-thirty, the clock said. An hour she’d been out there churning out laps. A full hour.
Compensating for the birthday cake and ice cream….
No. Countering a whirlwind of emotion.
Something was on the horizon for Donovan. Something crucial.
He’d called earlier, saying he’d be over around ten. She still had time to shower, blow-dry her hair, put on a silk negligee she’d just bought. They usually didn’t have time to set a romantic scene. She wanted to give him a memory—and herself, too, because she didn’t know how many more opportunities there would be.
At precisely ten o’clock came a soft tap on the front door. Laura shook her hair back, more nervous than she could remember. And it was nerves, not anticipation that had her hands trembling and her breath shaky. It had to be nerves.
She opened the door. He didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. Desire flared in his eyes, in the hardness of his jaw, in his posture. He slipped inside, locked the door and pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a ferocity she returned in full measure. She wasn’t interested in tender any more than he was.
He backed her against the foyer wall, attacked her mouth with his, hot, wet and deep, his throat vibrating with needy sounds. He squeezed her breasts, tugged at the straps of her negligee, dragging them down to savor her flesh, his tongue leading the way, nipping with his teeth, sucking her nipples into his mouth. He kept going, lower and lower, her gown pooling at her feet, his hands flattening her hips to the wall as he cherished her, stealing her breath, scattering all thoughts, leaving only sensation, rising, powerful sensation. She skyrocketed, soaring higher and higher until bursts of color shot through her with such force she had to brace herself.