ONCE MORE A FAMILY

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  His mom had been baking, and the scent of ginger and spice hung in the air. He grinned when he saw the gingerbread men lined up to cool on the baking sheet on the counter. Jimmy loved gingerbread men almost as much as he did. His stomach growled, but he fought off the, urge to filch a bite.

  "Anybody home?" he called as he went through the swinging door into the dining room.

  "Grady!" His mom's voice came from above, and he headed for the stairs off the old-fashioned entry hall. "Mason, wake up. It's Grady."

  Grinning because it was good to know he would always be welcome in this place no matter how many times he messed up, he rested his hand on the square newel post and waited for his mom to appear at the top of the stairs.

  It took less than a wink before she was rushing toward him, her smile as happy as he'd ever seen it.

  "This is such a wonderful surprise," she said as he caught her up in a hug. It gentled him some to breathe in the clean scent of plain soap that had been one of his earliest memories. Then as now it promised security and love. His grin dimmed as he wondered if Jimmy would ever feel similar feelings for his mom again.

  As soon as he set her on her feet, Sarah was looking behind him, her eyes as bright as stars. "Is Jimmy with you?"

  "Nope. Does that mean I have to leave?"

  "Don't be a smart-ass, James Grady," she ordered before tucking her arm in Grady's. "Come sit in the kitchen while I pack up the treats I made for the little angel. I want to hear everything that happened from the moment you left for California. Don't leave out a thing."

  Thirty minutes later Grady finished both his story and the bottle of beer his dad had handed him as soon as he'd settled into the bench built into the breakfast nook.

  "Of course you can have the cottage for as long as you want it," his mother said after exchanging looks with his dad.

  "Sounds like a damn minefield to me," Mason muttered before tipping the long-necked bottle to his mouth for a long, satisfying swig. "Pretending to be man and wife. Seems like a sure way to get yourself in a tangle."

  "Hush, Mason. Grady knows what he's doing." Sarah furrowed her brow. "What does Ria think?"

  Grady felt a sudden burning in his belly. The beer had been a mistake. "I haven't discussed it with her yet."

  His father lifted his left eyebrow, the skeptical one each of his sons had come to dread. "Any idea when you might get around to it?"

  Grady studied the label on the bottle as though his life depended on memorizing it. "I figure I'll pour her a glass of wine as soon as Jimmy goes to bed, and then when she's feeling nice and mellow, I'll work the conversation around to it nice and slow like."

  His dad's eyebrow edged higher. "I'd make that glass a big one, and do your edging at a snail's pace."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, Mason. You know Ria's still in love with our boy. It sticks out all over her whenever they're in the same room together."

  Grady had never wanted to believe anything more in his life. "How come if she loves me so much she acts like I have something catching whenever I try to talk to her?" He picked at the label with a fingernail clipped too close to do much good. But it helped him concentrate.

  "For heaven's sake, you men can be obtuse sometimes." His mother got up from her seat across from him and started packing up the gingerbread men.

  "What about it, Pop? Are we obtuse?" Grady asked, meeting his father's amused gaze.

  "Don't know about you, son, but I figure I have to be, seeing's how your mom has this all-powerful need to tell me at least a dozen times a day that what I just said wasn't what I meant at all."

  His mom waved a graceful hand. "Don't pay any attention to your father, sweetheart. He's just in a funk because the Cubs have lost seventeen straight."

  "Eighteen," Mason grumbled before getting up to snag another beer from the fridge. Grady wasn't surprised when his dad neglected to offer him one, too. Mason was scrupulous about never having more than one when he knew he was going to get behind the wheel, and he'd hammered that rule into each of his sons.

  "Cottage phone's not hooked up," Mason said after chugging a satisfying third of the bottle. "Something's wrong with the wiring."

  "Mice," Sarah muttered, glancing over her shoulder. "The same mice your father promised to trap for me this spring."

  "Didn't figure there was any hurry, what with darn near every member of this family hauling around cell phones." He slanted Grady a grumpy look. "Where's yours?"

  "In the truck."

  Mason's mouth quirked. "There you go, Sarah. Who needs wires when you have satellites?"

  "I do," she muttered, her brow puckering as she concentrated on layering the gingerbread men carefully into the flat plastic container. When she was finished, she glanced up, her expression softening. "It'll work out, Grady. Jimmy comes from good stock, and I include Ria in that." Her lips curved in a fond smile. "I meant what I said, son. I've never seen two people so smitten with each other as you and Ria. I told your dad right off, after you brought her home that first Christmas Eve, that you'd finally found the other half of yourself. Nothing that's happened since has changed my mind."

  "Don't take this wrong, Mom, but it's Ria's mind that needs changing."

  "So change it."

  He shifted on the hard seat. "It's not that easy," he muttered, dropping his gaze.

  "Of course it's not easy. Nothing worthwhile is. But that doesn't mean it's impossible."

  Damn near. Grady got to his feet and rinsed out the bottle, then upended it in the drainer. "Thanks for the use of the cottage. I'll take care of the phone wire—and the mice," he added when his mother opened her mouth.

  "Thank you, dear heart. It's nice to know there's one thoughtful male in this room." She shot Mason a look that he returned with the same boyish grin that had stolen sixteen-year-old Sarah Smith's romantic heart fifty years earlier.

  Grady watched the melting look come into his mom's eyes and ached. Ria had looked at him like that once. He'd walk hot coals stark naked in front of God and the entire Lafayette PD to see that look in her eyes again.

  "Give that little one a big hug and kiss from Grandma," his mom said after giving him the same. "And be sure to tell him I can't wait to see him."

  "I will and thanks for understanding. You know Ria and I would never keep him from you if it wasn't necessary."

  She smiled, a little sadly, Grady noticed. "Lay the container flat on the floor so it doesn't slide," she ordered as she handed over the gingerbread.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "I'll walk you out," his dad said as he put his beer on the counter.

  "Stay under the overhang," Sarah called after them as they left.

  By tacit agreement, they stood shoulder to shoulder on the porch, two large Hardin men, one who'd made his marriage work, one who hadn't. "Your mom never could stand unhappy endings."

  "To tell you the truth, Dad, I'm not all that crazy about them myself." Grady glanced up at the low overcast. The rain came down in a monotonous drizzle. He hated rain. It made him edgy.

  "It was raining like this the day Ria and I decided to file. I walked out of the house and started running. I don't know how many miles I did. Just rabbited across one field after another until I couldn't run anymore." And then he'd leaned against the trunk of a gnarled old oak and cried.

  His father turned his head and looked at him as though he'd never seen him before. "It's not like you to give up on something you'd set your heart on. Ria, either, for that matter. In fact, she's just about the most tenacious little gal I've ever met. The way she risked her life to hang on to that youngster of yours—" Mason broke off, drawing in a slow breath. "From that time on, she was my daughter, same as Manda."

  Grady glanced down at the sodden walk. Ria's obstetrician had given her no more than a fifty-fifty chance of surviving if she carried Jimmy to term. She'd refused to consider any other option. Her grit had humbled him. Maybe it had even made him feel, well, unworthy.

  "I didn't know how to be a husband,
Dad. I thought it was all about being faithful and providing a good living. I figured making myself successful would prove to her how much I loved her." He glanced up at the heavy clouds riding just over the treetops. "She got tired of fixing gourmet meals I never ate and planning picnics she and Jimmy went on alone. She wanted to eat popcorn in front of the fire and watch it snow. I was so whacked out from three straight nights of stakeouts I fell asleep while I was kissing her."

  He felt the heat bleeding into his face. "After a while, she just stopped planning."

  His dad kicked at a maple leaf floating in a puddle at the edge of the walk. "Like I said, son, Ria can be tenacious. I figure she's hanging on to some leftover feelings of hurt that maybe she doesn't even know about. Women take great store in feeling cherished by the men they give their heart to." He lifted his gaze and looked Grady straight in the eye. "Want some advice?"

  "If you got some to give, yeah, guess I do."

  "This time you do the planning. Court her, like the men in those books your mom has stacked all over the house." His grin flashed. "You're a Hardin, son. Through and through. Of all our boys you're the one's most like the first Grady Hardin. Man was flat-out bullheaded in some things, but folks who knew him swore he had half the ladies in Lafayette County in love with him. Charmed all their no's to yes's, sure enough. Guess if you put your mind to it, you could do the same with that sweet little wife of yours."

  "Ex-wife," he corrected absently, his mind already wrapping around those yes's.

  "Maybe the court says she's an ex, but the way I see you acting, I figure you're still wearing that ring, even though it's no longer on your finger."

  Grady didn't bother to deny it. "Almost forgot," he said glancing away from his father's too-perceptive gaze. "I need to borrow your sleeping bag, if that's okay."

  "Sure. It's in the garage."

  Grady glanced at the sky. "I'll get it."

  "More trouble to tell you where it is. Be right back."

  Ducking his head, Mason stepped in the drizzle and walked across the drive to the detached garage. He returned a minute later to hand Grady the bedroll.

  Side by side, they walked to the truck. "Nothing like sleeping under the stars," Mason said, his lips twitching.

  "I can think of better places."

  "Guess you can."

  Grady opened the door and tossed the sleeping bag inside.

  Mason waited before he'd leaned in to deposit the cookies on the passenger-side floorboard before saying with a smile, "Give Ria and the boy a kiss for me."

  Grady grinned. Ria adored his dad. She wouldn't dare refuse a kiss from the old man. "Yes, sir. I'll do that."

  * * *

  Grady stood at the railing of the small balcony, overlooking the river. The storm that had battered the city for most of the afternoon had moved on, leaving the air washed clean and the sky as clear as black ice.

  It was nearly nine. Ria was putting Jimmy to bed. If anything, the boy's surly mood had gotten worse during the hours he'd been sprawled on the floor in the den, watching TV and kicking the scuffed toes of his high-tops against the carpet. The gingerbread cookies were still in the container, untouched. According to his son, he hated gingerbread.

  He hated cats, too, Jim had declared with a sneer when Trouble had poked a cautious nose out of his box. Especially ugly ones. From the way Trouble had eyed the boy, Grady figured the cat wasn't all that crazy about smart-ass little boys.

  It was the desperate look in Ria's eyes that had had him suggesting McDonald's for dinner. When she'd leaped at it the way Trouble had once leaped at a decent meal, he'd figured her day had been a lot worse than his.

  He heard the whoosh of the sliding door and turned. She looked discouraged and pale as she came to stand next to him.

  "Need a hug?" he asked a little gruffly.

  "Desperately," she said, with a stab at a smile, "but I think that would be a lousy idea for both of us."

  "Just a hug," he promised. Keep it light, he told himself. Don't spook her. Just in case, he tucked his hands in his back pockets. It was safer that way.

  "Keep it on account. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

  "When you do, honey, I'm your man." He managed a self-deprecating shrug. "Once, anyway."

  She folded her arms and leaned her hip against the railing, facing him. She'd changed from the tank top into a tidy knit shirt for the trip to McDonald's, and the soft yellow cotton gleamed in the semidarkness, outlining her breasts just enough to make his mouth water.

  "I hate feeling so helpless," she said in a tight voice. "It was awful when he was gone, but I always had hope to hang on to. Whenever I felt that black pit opening up, I'd tell myself I had to be strong for my son when he came home. Now he's here, close enough for me to touch, and I don't feel strong at all."

  "Honey, you're too hard on yourself. You're human. You've been through a hell most moms can only imagine. It's only natural to feel a little shaken until you get your footing again."

  She drew a breath. "I want my little boy back, Grady."

  "It can't happen, Ree," he said, feeling regret grind in his gut.

  "I know." She shifted her gaze toward the sky. The moon was waning, shutting down its light a little more each night. "He needs so much love."

  "What he needs is the flat of his dad's hand on his backside."

  She jerked her gaze to his, her expression changing in an instant from the tight sadness that he flat-out couldn't stand to a mother's fierce outrage.

  "Don't you dare!" she declared on a little huff of air.

  He knew better than to laugh. But damn, she was cute when she got riled up. "I don't intend to beat him, honey. Just get his thinking reordered a little."

  "He was just a little upset. It happens."

  "Ree, the kid pitched a fit in a crowded restaurant over a damned milk shake."

  "What would it have hurt to let him have another one?"

  "If he'd asked nicely instead of ordering you around, I would have bought him as many as he wanted."

  "He was just being a little boy."

  "A little boy who called his mother a gutter name. If that had been me, I'd be soaking my butt in Epsom salts for a week."

  "That's different. You always knew your parents loved you, no matter what you did. Jimmy doesn't know us at all."

  Grady smiled a little to himself. His mom had always claimed the Lord provided opportunities. It was up to him how he used them.

  "Ree, I talked to that child psychologist this afternoon."

  Her eyebrows drifted up. "The one in California?"

  He nodded. "Dr. Roth. I thought she might give us some direction."

  Hope leaped into her eyes. "And did she?"

  He nodded. "Why don't I pour you a glass of wine and tell you what she had to say?"

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  At least she hadn't handed him his head on a plate.

  Grady considered that a positive sign. On the other hand, she hadn't exactly smothered him with gratitude for coming up with a plan.

  Rank coward that he was, he leaned forward to nudge the long-stemmed wine goblet a few inches closer to her reach. Coiled like a wary cat in one corner of the wimpy love seat, with her legs tucked up beneath her and her spine school-teacher straight, she shot him a look he'd seen before—almost always in the mean hours of the night and right before all hell broke loose.

  "Now I know why you suggested the wine," she muttered, taking a sip.

  He let out the air he'd been holding, and some of the tension eased from his muscles. Since at least one of her hands was occupied, he figured it was safe to reach for the glass of milk. Not because he wanted the damn stuff. Hell, he'd never even liked it as a kid. But the department medic had ordered him to drink it. His stomach lining was inflamed, the guy had claimed. Too much coffee and stress and not enough sleep. The smug bastard had told him to vent his feelings, instead of swallowing them.

  Well, he w
as trying, wasn't he?

  "Dr. Roth promised to use her juice with McCurry, but even if he agrees to slide us into his schedule, it's probably not going to happen immediately. More like a couple of days. Maybe a week."

  She rested the goblet on her thigh while she gnawed at the corner of her lip, her brow knit into a frown. He knew the signs. She was working through the positives and negatives in her head.

  "Maybe Dr. McCurry has a different approach," she said with a hopeful note that tore at his already-sore gut. "Hypnosis, for example."

  He pulled up one leg. Just being in the same room with her made him edgy. "I don't know, Ree. Seems like Jim is pretty young for a shrink to go digging into his mind."

  "It's obvious we need to do more research."

  Well, hell, what did she think he'd been doing? "That's your department. Jimmy and I will do our research in Dad's boat." He risked a grin. "There's nothing like pulling in the big one to settle the mind."

  Her smile was a little sad. Still, it was a smile, and he was a desperate man. "I checked with Mom and Dad. They're fine with letting us have the place for as long as we need it."

  "So that we can pretend we're still married?"

  "For Jimmy's sake, honey." He cleared his throat. "You should have heard Dr. Roth's voice perk right up. She thought it was a great idea."

  "Okay, maybe it does make sense. In fact, it makes a lot of sense. Jimmy loved the lake." She took a quick breath. "And I think it's a good idea that we both spend a lot of time with him. I can even see the logic in waiting to tell him about the divorce." He opened his mouth, but she forestalled him by raising a hand. "And the logic of needing isolation so that someone doesn't inadvertently slip and reveal the truth," she concluded, echoing the argument he was about to make. But then, Ree was always way ahead of him in the brains department.

  "So you agree?" He was damn proud of his restraint.

  "With some modifications, yes."

  Hell. "Like what?"

  "Jimmy and I will stay at the lake. We can tell him you're on a case. Night stakeouts, which is why you can only come to visit him during the day."