From Father to Son

by Janice Kay Johnson

  I wanna have pizza with Niall instead.

  Her mouth curved into a smile at the childish whine her inner teenager had managed.

  Yep, she and Des were in harmony there. Niall was more fun than Grandma and Grandad.

  Only once again a couple of days had gone by without her setting eyes on Niall. It was silly to feel hurt, of course; they were neighbors, landlady and tenant, maybe friends, not anything more. Except that he had kissed her—twice—so maybe they were “more” although she wasn’t sure how to define it. He hadn’t asked her out. They weren’t committed to each other in any way. He might even be seeing another woman right now, which would explain why his cottage remained dark some evenings.

  At the very least, he was busy, or maybe he hadn’t been in the mood for the whole family scene. Especially her family. He’d certainly gotten an up-close-and-personal look at her whole, messy world. Unpleasant in-laws, philandering father, sobbing, clingy little girl, needy boy.

  Needy woman?

  She still couldn’t believe she’d kissed him—let him kiss her that way. Or that it had been so lovely. Tender. Patient. The really astonishing part was that she wasn’t so sure she’d have stopped him if he’d gone on. Slipped a hand beneath the hem of her T-shirt, even stripped it off over her head. Heck, carried her down the porch steps, laid her on the lawn and made love to her. She’d wanted him to, so much, even though she also didn’t.

  At some point his amazing control would shatter, right? And then he’d get rough or impatient. He’d quit bothering with seduction and just take.

  And even if he didn’t…well, it was uncomfortable for her once the actual sex part started. The penetration. Maybe it was a quirk of her body, but surely if she was capable of enjoying it, she would have at least once during her marriage.

  So why did she want to find out if it could be different?

  She knew the answer. Niall made her feel things. Lots of things. So many things, it made her mad when he disappeared from their lives like this, even if she had no right whatsoever to react that way.

  She sighed so gustily Desmond said, “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “We don’t have to spend the night tonight, right?”

  “Nope. We’re having dinner, that’s all.”

  “Okay.” He lapsed into silence again until she parked in the Staleys’ driveway.

  Dinner smelled good, and she had to admit it was nice to eat someone else’s cooking. Donna had fixed some of Desmond’s favorite foods: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas instead of one of the yuckier vegetables his mother made him eat, blackberry crisp still warm from the oven with vanilla ice cream melting atop. The Staleys were eager to catch up on the kids’ lives, and Rowan relaxed, remembering how many pleasant meals they’d all eaten together. Yes, they could be difficult, but they cared, and that counted for a lot. Donna especially really did try to please the kids; she might have opinions on healthy eating, but she did pay attention to what they enjoyed, too.

  Rowan looked around, thinking about other good times here, too. Both the Staleys were rigid, but Donna at least had seemed to understand that kids needed to do things like fingerpaint and help cut out Christmas cookies. They’d bought them an easel and Glenn had somewhere found a square of vinyl to lay under it. From here, Rowan could see it was still set up in the kitchen. Anna’s sandbox had come from them, too. And, while Glenn had grumbled plenty about Super Sam, neither of them had ever suggested getting rid of the dog. Considering how many holes Sam had dug in Glenn’s lawn and flowerbeds, that tolerance was a biggie.

  Listening to Des tell his grandparents about his swim lessons and the friends he’d made and how he was starting to get excited for school to start, Rowan began to feel chagrined about how much she’d limited their time with the kids since the move.

  Anna piped up, “I get to go to school, too.”

  Donna turned a disapproving face on Rowan and said, “You’re absolutely determined to go through with this?”

  She wasn’t quite chagrined enough to back down on this particular issue. “You mean preschool?” Rowan kept her tone cheerful for the kids’ sake. “Of course I am. A year from now, Anna will be starting kindergarten. Preschool is a great way to make that transition. And she’s excited about it, aren’t you, honey?”

  “Uh-huh.” But she didn’t look all that excited, mainly because she still didn’t feel very well but also because she was a little hazy about what preschool actually was.

  “Listen to her, for goodness sake, Rowan.” Donna turned a flashlight beam of coaxing on her granddaughter. “You’d rather come stay with Grandma and Grandad every day instead, wouldn’t you, pumpkin? Remember what fun we had last year?”

  Anna’s lower lip pushed out. “I wanna go to school like Desmond.”

  “But when he was four, Desmond didn’t go to preschool, did he?” Donna sounded sugary sweet. “Preschool is babysitting for little girls and boys whose mommies and daddies have to work and can’t be with them. Ones who don’t have grandmas and grandads to take care of them.”

  Rowan became aware that she was clenching her teeth. I will not react, I will not react.

  Ignoring her, Donna continued, “Since your mommy is so determined to have a job instead of staying with you, your grandad and I think you should come here daytimes. And maybe Desmond could even come here when school lets out, until Mommy can pick you both up.”

  Rowan set down her fork. “I get off at the same time school lets out. Des won’t have to go to after-school care except once in a while, and he won’t mind because his friend Brett will be there.”

  He’d been watching his grandmother warily. After a glance flicked at his mother, he exclaimed, “Yeah! It’s fun. I bet preschool is fun, too.”

  Donna’s carefully plucked and drawn-in eyebrows arched. “All day? I wouldn’t think so.”

  Tears promptly welled in Anna’s eyes. “Mommy said I could go. She said I’m a big girl, not a little girl!”

  “She’s going to cry?” Glenn exclaimed in disgust, balling his napkin in one fist and tossing it onto the table. “She behaved better than this when she lived with us.”

  Anna did burst into tears. Rowan pulled her onto her lap and pressed a kiss onto her head. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Of course you’re a big girl!” She glared at her parents-in-law. “Grandad didn’t mean to sound mad. He’s surprised because you hardly ever cry, do you?”

  “She’s been crying lots lately,” Desmond told them all.

  “Possibly because she needs structure and firmness,” Glenn declared.

  Anna cried harder.

  “Or because she had surgery five days ago.” Rowan pushed back her chair. “Donna, I feel terrible leaving you with the cleanup, but I think I’d better get the kids home.”

  Flustered, her mother-in-law rose, too. “You’re leaving already? But we so wanted to spend some time with our grandchildren. We’ve hardly seen them at all.”

  Rowan almost groaned from guilt. Their feelings had been hurt since she moved out, she knew that, but surely they could see that this wasn’t a good time?

  “I’m sorry, but I suspect Anna needs another dose of her pain medication. I didn’t think to bring it.”

  “Are you sure it’s not that man you’re living with?” Glenn growled.

  “What?”

  “Do you think we’re blind?” His face was red with anger. “We saw what was going on.”

  Desmond slipped from his chair and scuttled to her side, needing the reassurance of contact. Anna buried her wet face against Rowan’s neck.

  “If you’re talking about Niall, he rents the cottage from me, just as he did from Gran. He’s a kind man who’s been nice to the kids. We most certainly don’t live with him. I can’t imagine where you got the id
ea we do,” she said, very, very calmly.

  “Obviously you turn the kids over to him any time he feels like taking one of them even though you won’t let their grandparents see them at all,” said Glenn, expression ugly.

  “You’re exaggerating. We’re here, aren’t we?”

  “To eat and run.” He snorted and pushed back his own chair. “I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. With Drew gone, you don’t want anything to do with his family, do you? And after everything we did for you.”

  This had to be a nightmare.

  “That isn’t true.” Desmond, she realized, was pressed hard against her now, scared by this bizarre scene that had erupted from nowhere. Anna’s breath was hitching in awful little gulps. “I’m grateful for everything you did, but it was time we stood on our own feet. Surely you can understand that.”

  “You mean, you couldn’t spend time with a man while you were living here. You put your husband out of your mind pretty damn quick.”

  In her shock, she thought, I won’t descend to his level. I won’t. “I will not talk about this in front of the children.” She looked at her mother-in-law, who seemed to be in nearly as much shock as Rowan was. “Donna, thank you for making such a nice dinner for us. Good night.”

  She marched out, hustling the kids with her. With days so warm, they hadn’t had to collect coats or anything but her purse, left on the living room sofa. She buckled them into their car seats without once turning her head to see if Glenn had followed them out to glare.

  As Rowan drove away, Anna was still crying with those strange, hitching breaths, as if she was having trouble getting enough oxygen, while Desmond appeared to have shrunk.

  Rowan had driven several blocks before she could summon something like a normal tone. “Well, Grandad was sure in a bad mood tonight, wasn’t he?”

  “Why was he mad about Niall?” Desmond asked in complete perplexity.

  Good question. She had to think about it for a minute, trying to untangle her own anger and shock and bewilderment.

  “Your grandparents miss your dad. He was their son, you know. Their little boy. Maybe it’s especially hard for them because they didn’t have any other kids.”

  After a minute Des dipped his head.

  “When they saw how much you liked Niall—” how much I liked Niall, too “—they were afraid you’d forget your own dad. It’s hard for them to see us moving on with our lives without your dad.”

  Desmond didn’t say anything for a long time. Rowan couldn’t tell if Anna, in her misery, was even listening. They were almost home when Desmond spoke. “Would Daddy not like it that sometimes I kind of think of Niall like he’s almost my dad?”

  All she could think was, I’m responsible for this. The necessity of concentrating as she turned into the driveway, set the brake and turned off the car gave her a moment to think. How could she address this without encouraging him?

  “I know your dad would be glad Niall can do stuff with you,” she said carefully. From somewhere, she summoned a laugh. “Your dad knew I’m not any good at T-ball or soccer.”

  “You’re not a very good swimmer, either, are you?” said Desmond, sounding more like himself.

  Still laughing, Rowan shook her head. “Nope. I wish I’d learned when I was your age, but I didn’t.” She hesitated. “Des… Niall has been nice, and he does cool things with you, but he isn’t your dad. I don’t think he really wants a family, not full-time. So it might be better if you think of him as a friend. He could move away any time, you know, or…or get married and start a family of his own.”

  While she watched, Desmond brooded.

  “Why can’t he marry us?” he finally exclaimed.

  “Honey…” Rowan collected herself. “I know your dad wouldn’t mind if I remarried, not if it was someone who loved me and really wanted to be your father. He can’t be here, and I believe with all my heart that he wants us to be happy. But that doesn’t mean Niall is that person. He’s been nice to us, but he doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not sure he’s ready to be a dad at all. You know he doesn’t always have time for you.”

  Desmond hung his head, but his expression was stubborn. She hadn’t convinced him. Maybe he guessed that a part of her wished Niall would marry them, too. Probably that’s what made her explanation more than a little incoherent.

  Fortunately, Desmond moved on to more questions as they got out of the car and went into the house, mostly about what Dad would mind and didn’t mind and did Mom think he could see them? ’Cuz Des bet Dad wanted to beat up that guy who looked in the bedroom window, huh, Mom?

  The worst part of the whole, hideous evening, as far as Rowan was concerned, was the creeping sense of shame she couldn’t quite shake off. Had it really been so obvious to Donna and Glenn that she was attracted to Niall? Did they actually believe she was bringing a man who wasn’t her husband into her bedroom, right across the hall from her kids? And was that exactly what Niall expected she would do?

  As they crossed the yard, she didn’t even let herself look toward the cottage, beyond noticing from her peripheral vision that the lights were on.

  She didn’t go out to sit on the porch after she tucked Anna and Desmond into bed. After darkness fell, she made sure neither the back porch light nor the kitchen light were on, in case either would have encouraged Niall to come knock on the door.

  She went to bed early, pretending to read, when really she struggled with a barrage of questions quite different from Desmond’s, starting with the biggie.

  Why had Drew stayed so close to his parents when they were so awful? She knew he’d often felt angry with them, especially his father. She wished, not for the first time, that he’d talked to her more. Explained some of those mixed feelings he obviously had.

  But some of her questions weren’t so different from Desmond’s. How would Drew feel about her kissing another man? About her feeling so much more than she had in her husband’s arms? And why should she feel guilty, when Drew had hurt her so much?

  She closed her eyes and remembered the way he’d gather her into his arms afterward and hold her close, his voice low and sad, if also husky from physical satisfaction. “I’m sorry, love. So sorry. Thank you for giving me what I need. If only…”

  But he’d never finish. He’d never say, If only we could both enjoy this. Because his way meant they couldn’t.

  Was it mostly her fault, the way she’d always believed? Or—and this was the most innocent explanation—had Drew not known how to arouse her, how to make her want his touch, his body? What she didn’t want to believe was that her husband had needed to hurt her. That he’d taken pleasure in her every gasp of pain even though he was ashamed when he was done.

  She turned off her lamp and lay staring into the darkness, into the past.

  Of course, she knew. But she couldn’t hate Drew anyway. She could be angry, yes, but she’d loved him, too, and felt pity because he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  And she thought, finally, I don’t care what Drew would think about Niall.

  If Niall wanted her, could she be brave enough to find out whether sex could be as glorious as it was depicted in books and movies instead of painful and degrading as it had been in her experience?

  What made her even more afraid was the knowledge that making love wouldn’t be an experiment for her. Fun and liberating if it went well. She couldn’t do it at all if she weren’t in love with him. And she couldn’t shake off the feeling that the last thing Niall would want was a woman’s love or expectations.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SATURDAY MORNING, NIALL SAT at his small table, ate a bowl of tasteless multigrain cereal and listened to the voices drifting in from outside. Desmond yelling something, Rowan answering, Super Sam barking.

  Would Rowan be pissed b
ecause he hadn’t been around the past few days? Man, was this niggling sense of shame what guys in a relationship had to put up with all the time? If so, he didn’t want any of it.

  Except, he did want to go out there and… He frowned. Find out whether Anna was better enough to give him one of her big, sweet smiles. Kick the soccer ball around with Des. See Rowan. That was all. See her.

  His heart felt like that soccer ball when it had just been booted hard. The pain of being dented, the rebound effect, the soaring high.

  He didn’t want her to look at him distantly, the way she did after he’d hurt her little boy’s feelings. He wanted her shy smile, too, so like her daughter’s in the way it lit her whole face.

  He kept sitting there, telling himself he was lingering over his coffee, really feeling like a gutless wonder.

  The last inch of coffee in the mug went cold. With the Times spread on the table in front of him, he read about the Seahawks training camp and exhibition games and didn’t give a flying you-know-what. His belly felt as if the cereal was being digested into concrete and he stared toward the windows, the slice of sky he could see, the leafy branches of the big apple tree. The woman and children he couldn’t see.

  His phone rang, and he grabbed it in gratitude. The name he saw on the screen surprised him: Conall. His little brother hadn’t called in months.

  “Hey,” he said in greeting. “I thought maybe you’d been buried in a shallow grave somewhere in Baja.”

  His brother laughed. “Not me. I’m too quick, too smart. Too mean.”

  “Too lucky. So far.”

  “Luck comes into it once in a while,” Conall admitted.

  Niall could hear his smile, so charming women went splat! like flies beneath a swatter. Conall had always been good with girls. You’d think they could see through it, but they never seemed to. Conall didn’t mean anything the smile promised. Beneath the surface ability to get what he wanted, he was intense, wired and lacking, seemingly, any ability to feel real emotion. He’d picked the right life for himself, but Niall expected it to be a short one. Speaking of…