by Tracy Ewens
“I’ll keep him with me. I have family to help, and it will be fine,” he had told her, having no idea what he was getting into but knowing he needed to be near his son.
“Are you sure you want to take this on? My mom has a list of nannies and we’ll be great.”
“I don’t want to live in Chicago, Claire.”
“You don’t have to. We’ll come visit, or you can visit.”
“I’d like to be a full-time father.”
“Okay, well, if you know what you’re getting into. I’d appreciate the help and I should focus on my new job anyway. It will be nice knowing he’s with you.”
Boyd knew what people thought. That she was a heartless bitch only concerned with her career and money. Over the years, when people learned their story, he’d heard the grumbling about how a woman could abandon her son, but he ignored it. It might not be typical for a mother to leave her son with his dad in lieu of a career, but men did it all the time. Men chose career over parenting, and the truth was Claire wasn’t interested in being a mom. She tried, but it wasn’t enough for her. Boyd saw raising Mason as the greatest adventure of his life, so why wouldn’t he take him? Why stand by and watch nannies raise him to maintain some social order that made everyone else feel more comfortable?
Looking at her now through the windshield of his truck, Boyd noticed how Claire’s heels stood in stark contrast to the all-white of her outfit. She was one of those women who seemed comfortable in heels, even when they were younger. Her sandals had all been heels too now that he thought about it. Her hair was a lighter shade and her lipstick brighter. Mason had her nose, Boyd thought, and her full-face smile. Claire took off her coat and draped it over her arm as she wheeled her bag to the curb. The emotions and questions swirling in Boyd were quickly silenced as he opened the door to the noise of arrival traffic and helped the mother of his child with her luggage.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mason Danner McNaughton graduated from the eighth grade on what turned out to be one of Boyd’s favorite kind of days. Blue sky speckled with big clouds and enough breeze to keep things comfortable. The ceremony certainly wasn’t the same flash as high school, but the junior high band played a few songs. The athletics department sold cookies and refreshments at a table off to the side of the seating. It did strike Boyd as odd that the athletics department would be pushing sugar, but his head didn’t have much time for superficial thoughts today. He needed all of his brain power to keep his heart from bursting as he approached his brothers, his parents, and his… Claire, who were all kissing and high-fiving his son.
His son. Boyd stayed back a minute, sipping watered-down lemonade, and realized he was still dumbstruck that the human being standing there in new tan dress pants because the other ones were too short, and a tie with roses and skulls his Uncle Cade bought him, was his flesh and blood. That years down the road when Mason talked about his childhood with friends or a girlfriend, when he referred to “his dad,” that was Boyd. The memories he had already made with his son and the ones they would cram in before he had to let him out into the world would fuse together as his childhood.
Boyd’s eyes filled behind his sunglasses. He turned and quickly wiped them away. Christ, he needed to get a grip or he would never make it to college.
Whoa, let’s take it one step at a time.
“Dad, what’s the name of that hike we went on?” Mason asked from a few feet away.
Boyd raised a brow, hoping he was going to give him more of a hint than—a hike. They’d been hiking since he was six months old.
“Super tall walls,” Mason added. “Oh, and we walked through water most of the time. Remember when your feet got all wrinkly because you bought the wrong socks and we forgot the canned sardines?”
Boyd took in a breath and commanded his heart to cut it out. Be a man for crying out loud. He nodded, giving himself a minute to swallow the lump that seemed permanently in his throat these days.
“Pariah Canyon.”
“Yeah,” Mason said, putting his fist in the air as if they’d finished the four-day hike. “Pariah,” he told his friend Trevor. “It’s in… Utah?”
Boyd nodded.
At the confirmation, Mason walked toward the cookie table with his friends explaining with animated hands the massiveness of Pariah Canyon. It had been a terrific trip. Boyd had forgotten about the socks and the sardines they left on the kitchen counter. Crazy, the things kids remembered. Mason was stumped on where they’d hiked, but he remembered pruned feet and the canned fish. All of it made Boyd smile—that trip, this day. The handful Mason had been as a toddler and the man he was becoming. All of it somehow brought comfort. Move it forward, he told himself.
“Wow, is that lemonade?” Patrick asked, parking next to him, hands in pockets. “You’re so old.” He bumped his shoulder, something he would never have done when they were younger. Boyd was twice his size back then.
He took another sip and nodded. “It’s a family event, Trick. There are no promotion opportunities here.”
“Don’t let anyone hear you saying that. Beer goes with family.”
Boyd laughed. “Yeah? Is that our summer slogan?”
He took a pull of his water bottle. “Shows what you know, our summer artwork was done in February.”
They stood, watching as the crowd of graduates slowly morphed back into the kids they would only be for a few more years. Sleeves rolled up, most of the ties pulled loose or off altogether.
“Congratulations, big brother.”
Boyd didn’t look at Patrick. There was simply no way to keep it all inside.
“For what? Mase did it all.”
“Oh, come on. We don’t have much time. See that group of girls over there?”
“Yeah.”
“In about five minutes Mase and his friends are going to run out of things to say and they’ll want to hightail it out of here and start the party. So you’re only getting a few minutes of praise. Don’t go all humble on me.” His brother faced him, took his shoulder. “I’m serious. You’re raising a person. None of us can top that.” Patrick pulled him into a hug.
“Even you, super brother? You can’t top that? Can I get that on the record?” Boyd tried to joke his way out of the emotion.
“Proud of you.” Patrick patted him on the back and when Boyd did the same, his eyes welled up again.
What the hell? He lifted his sunglasses just enough to wipe them quickly away. He waited for his brother’s smart-ass remark but noticed his eyes were a little glossy too. Patrick wore those fashion lens Boyd never understood. Tinted meant they barely protected his eyes. Both of them shook their heads and smiled.
“Um, I’m sorry. Is this the Girl Scout meeting?” Cade, who had surely noticed them and came in for the kill, asked. “We have a reputation to uphold, losers. Why are you drinking punch and hugging it out?”
“Lemonade,” Patrick said.
“What?”
“He’s drinking lemonade.”
“Oh, well that’s better. What little secrets are you two girls sharing?” Cade batted his eyes and pressed his hands together.
Boyd finished his lemonade and crunched down on the ice cube for effect.
“Nothing. Just telling Boyd I’m proud of him.”
Cade was poised for his next response when his expression went all mushy. It took a lot for their younger brother to look soft. The guy had spent one too many nights at the tattoo parlor for Boyd’s liking and lately had a totally screwed haircut, but his face warmed nonetheless.
“That’s a given. Me too, big bro.” He glanced over his shoulder as Patrick’s prediction came to fruition and Mason walked toward them. “He’s the best. Handsome like me, well-dressed like string bean here and—”
Hell, Cade was sappy today too?
He swallowed. “A good man like his dad,” his brother finished.
“Man in training,” Boyd said.
Cade nodded and pulled him in for a hug. By the time the sun set,
they’d probably be back at one another’s throats, but for now, Boyd allowed the love to fill him up as it had for so many years.
“Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
Patrick and Cade shrugged. “Yeah, that’s true.”
They all laughed as Mason pulled Claire and his grandparents over and announced it was time for the party.
“Hell, yeah it is.” Cade took his nephew in a neck hold as they all made their way to the school parking lot.
“Hey, where’s Ella?” Patrick asked as he and Boyd got into his truck.
“I… I’m sure she’s working or with Vienna. Why?”
His brother looked confused, and Boyd wasn’t in the mood to discuss why he’d thought about inviting Ella at least a dozen times and like those stupid jigsaw puzzles their dad made them do every summer, he couldn’t figure out how to put her and Claire and Mason in a room at the same time. He couldn’t make it work, so he left her out.
“Rumor is that you didn’t invite her?”
“So you already know where Ella is, asshat.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell her? This is a big day for Mase.”
Boyd clenched his jaw and turned onto Bodega Avenue. When he glanced over, his brother was still staring at him.
“What? Let it go, Trick. I didn’t invite her.”
“It’s fucked up, man. I mean all this time I thought you were the healthy one.”
“We only recently started… whatever it is and I don’t know, I thought she might be uncomfortable.”
“You thought she’d be uncomfortable, or you would?”
“Both.”
They drove in silence.
“Remember when we used to lock each other out of our rooms? You know, we’d get all pissed, slam the door, and leave the other one pounding on the door in the hallway?”
Boyd kept driving. He had no idea where this was going, but Patrick was the introspective brother and there was bound to be symbolism in there somewhere.
Christ, I do not need a life lesson today.
“Mom would get mad and she’d make us open the door.” His brother looked out the window. “God, now that we’re older I realize what shits we were sometimes.”
They both chuckled, and Boyd thought maybe Patrick was only sharing a memory. Yeah, he should have known better.
“Remember what Mom used to say when she finally got us all by the arms and in the same room?”
Boyd remembered, but he said nothing.
“You don’t lock people you love out. You can be mad or frustrated, but you don’t lock them out.”
Boyd let out an exhale it felt like he’d been holding since Patrick started the story.
“Then she followed it up with—”
“Understood?” they said together and laughed.
“You love her. What’s the problem?”
He tried to concentrate on the road, the lines separating the lanes, the signs, or the brake lights in front of him.
“I don’t know what I’m feeling. She’s great, but that’s not—”
“Oh, Jesus. You should go back to drinking the lemonade if you’re going to be a chickenshit.”
“Okay, said the man who’s had how many successful relationships?”
“None. I’m holding out for my soul mate.”
“Yeah? What’s she, late?”
Patrick shrugged. “You should have invited her. Mase is important to her and you love her. You can’t keep doing this.”
They pulled into the parking lot of the brewery. The lunch crowd was going strong at the Tap House and everyone else was already inside. They’d sectioned off a whole area for Mason’s celebration.
“Doing what?” Boyd turned off his truck.
“Living alone.”
“I’m not alone. Christ, I’ve never been alone. I have Mason. I don’t need anyone.”
“And now it’s time for the bullshit. We’ve all raised Mason. You two aren’t an island.”
“Oh, yeah? Great, can you take him to the pediatrician week after next to get his sports physical? He’s in summer league, did you put that on your calendar?”
“You know there’s more to him than appointments and schedules. Cade taught him how to skateboard. I took him to the bank to open a high school checking account. Dad went hunting with him the first time. He watches old black-and-white movies with Mom and never complains. Aspen plays those damn arcade games with him. He’s all those pieces, Boyd. The kid would be totally screwed up if you raised him on an island, and you know it. You’re his dad and I meant what I said, endless respect for that, but Mason reached out to Ella. It’s kind of like he pulled her into your life because you needed her.”
“Okay, you think my thirteen-year-old son is orchestrating my love life now?”
Patrick shrugged. “He’s a smart kid and she’s great with him—and with you. Why the hell would you let that get away?”
“I’m not. Jesus, I didn’t invite her to an eighth-grade graduation. Will you get a grip?”
Boyd practically jumped out of the truck because suddenly he was having trouble breathing.
“Mom said Ella looked pissed,” Patrick said. “Or maybe it was hurt. Did she say hurt? I can’t remember.” They walked into the glorious noise of the party. Finally, something to shut him up.
Boyd needed a beer. Maybe two.
Ella was off in fifteen minutes and once again dreaming of food. A burger and fries from the Tap Room, her stomach was specific. Vienna had texted her that she and Thad were grabbing dinner and they were hoping she’d join them. It was Wednesday, Mason’s graduation, and while she knew from Boyd’s mom that they were going to the brewery after graduation, it was almost nine o’clock. Celebrations for kids didn’t last into the night, did they?
She didn’t want to show up for a party she wasn’t invited to, but she’d also become addicted to the fries at the Tap House. Bri agreed via text that there was no way Ella would be crashing an afternoon graduation party at night. On that advice, she would grab her dinner and be home before anyone even noticed. That was the plan.
Boyd had not tried calling again since the night of the book club meeting. He’d obviously shifted gears and was back focusing on his son, which was how things were supposed to be, she decided. Her initial instincts were right when she saw Boyd contemplating his autumn recipe. She should have left well enough alone.
“Dr. Walters, can I have a minute?”
The air was immediately sucked from the empty ER. Is this karma? Why the hell else would this man be back again to torture her more than he already had? Hadn’t she put his brilliant ass on a helicopter? What did it take to get rid of her past once and for all?
Ella didn’t even look up from her end of shift paperwork. “I’m busy, Marc. What is it?”
He sat next to her, and the familiar smell of him spun a web of confusion as his hands reached for hers. She stood up so fast she almost fell over. “What the hell is your problem?”
Marc put his hands up. “Sorry. I’m… I am going back to the city tonight. I wanted to tell you how good we were the other day, with your hardware guy. I’m certain you already know he’s doing well.”
“I’ve seen him. Thank you.”
“You bet. So, I came back here to finish my last lecture, and then I’m going home.”
Ella met his eyes. It was so much easier now, and he took a big breath like a kid about to blow out his birthday candles.
“I want you to come with me.”
She should have laughed, but his face was so sincere she was left bewildered. How could someone so accomplished be so clueless? Was it possible he didn’t understand that the entire world wasn’t waiting for his command? Her heart steadied in the same way it did when she had to deliver troubling or even disastrous news to a loved one in a waiting room. The calm in the storm.
“Have a safe trip home.”
“I love you, El. I screwed up, I know, but we have something. And now that I’m available I thoug
ht—”
She held up her hand, and this time it worked. He stopped speaking, and she had no idea how to explain the obvious. “You don’t love me. You have never loved me. People don’t lie when they love. They don’t hide and deceive. It’s not part of the love thing, Marc.” She grabbed her bag because this wasn’t going to end well and she was off shift anyway. Marc held her arm gently.
“Didn’t the hardware guy bring back how great we are? Don’t you miss us? What we used to be?” he said quietly near her ear.
“His name is Mr. Graham. Stop calling him the hardware guy. And no. Not for one minute. I have erased you from my heart because what you did to your wife was the worst kind of ugly. I used to blame myself, but recently I’ve learned that it had nothing to do with me. I could have been anyone.”
She jerked her shoulder and he let her go. “Go home, Marc. Be a father to your daughters. Be a better man.”
It felt as if her heart was beating behind her ears rather than safely in her chest by the time Ella reached her car. In the darkness, she put her hands to her face and prepared for tears. Instead, she smiled. She’d meant what she said. What had happened with Marc wasn’t about her. She hadn’t made vows and broken them. She’d simply been a fool for believing him. Somehow, allowing that in, admitting the mistake was more about Marc’s issues than anything else allowed for a freedom she’d waited over two years to experience. Boyd had been right—she was only responsible for her own actions.
Ella loved Boyd in so many ways that the mere thought of him wrapped around her chest and squeezed, but she had a feeling that once again her love alone was not going to be enough.
Walking into the Foghorn Brewery Tap House, she heard Mason’s laughter before she knew where it was coming from. The music overhead filled the space and by the time she figured out where Mason was, it was too late to turn around. She stood there somehow trapped in that sad movie moment when the protagonist is splashed by a passing car or trips and falls at the feet of the man she’s loved forever. Ella was mere feet from Boyd, Mason, and a woman she knew instantly was Mason’s mom. Claire, Ella remembered her name.
There was a lull in the music as the playlist shifted to a slower song, and Mason let out that booming laugh she now knew well. Ella’s gaze snapped back to the door she’d just walked through, but it was too late to pretend she had not seen them sitting like any other family out for dinner after a long day. Mason saw her and hopped to his feet.