ONCE MORE A FAMILY

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  Biting off a sigh, Grady grabbed a cassette from the well in the console and shoved it home. His spirits rose even higher as the soul-stirring beat of Chuck Berry in his prime throbbed through the speakers.

  It was a good bet Ria would be listening to one of those classical tapes she liked so much. Mozart probably. Something with lots of violins and no real beat. In the early days of their marriage, she'd talked him into driving up to Chicago to attend a concert.

  Not only had he been forced to wear a suit and a tie, but he'd also had to cram his oversize body into a seat designed for a midget for three endless hours. Worst of all, in spite of his best efforts, he'd fallen asleep after the intermission and ended up damn near snapping his head off when she'd jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

  Ticked big-time, she hadn't spoken to him all the way back to the city. Even though he'd managed to coax her into making love when they'd gotten home, it had taken him weeks to get back in her good graces.

  But damn, she'd looked like every man's fantasy in that slinky black dress. He'd lost count of the number of guys he'd had to warn off with a look. He let a smile play over his mouth at the thought of making love to her again. Tonight, if he had his way.

  "She hates me, doesn't she?"

  Not sure that he'd heard right, Grady glanced the boy's way. Jimmy had stopped playing his game and instead was simply staring at the screen. The shoulders that had been hunched in concentration a few minutes earlier were now stiff.

  With a snap of his wrist, Grady turned off the music before asking quietly, "Are you talking about your mom?"

  When the boy continued to stare, he added more softly, "Do you mean Ria?"

  Jimmy looked at him long enough to bob his head. "She hates me 'cause I wanted to ride with you." This time Grady heard the faint tremor in Jimmy's voice and groaned to himself.

  Grady waited for the oncoming car to whiz past, then flicked a quick glance at his son.

  "Jim, I doubt there's anything you could do in this lifetime that would make your mother—or me for that matter—hate you."

  Jimmy didn't look convinced. If anything, he looked more uptight.

  Damn, he didn't have enough experience for this, Grady thought as he searched back through his childhood for guidance. Some profound words of wisdom his dad might have tossed at him at some point in his benighted childhood. But he came up blank.

  So he did what painful experience had taught him to do. He simply told the boy the truth.

  "When you were born and your mom held you in her arms for the first time, she looked at you with so much love I thought my heart was going to pound through my chest. The two of you together…" Grady felt his throat close up, and he had to take a breath. "Sometimes, when I'd come home late, I'd find her in your room sitting by your crib, watching you sleep." He risked a grin. "She seemed to think it was better than TV, though from what I saw you didn't do a lot then but sleep and belch."

  That had Jimmy's interest, which both scared and encouraged him. Don't blow this one, hotshot, he told himself, as he slowed to follow Ria's van through the last of the small towns between Lafayette and the turnoff to the lake.

  "This is just a guess, but I think Mom's afraid you've forgotten how to love her back." He risked a quick look the boy's way and caught the look of confusion pass over the pinched features.

  "If she's my mom and you're my dad, how come I don't remember you?"

  Grady drew a breath and sent up an urgent prayer that Dr. Roth came through for them with McCurry, because he was way out of his depth here.

  "It's complicated, like most things having to do with life," he hedged.

  "That's what grown-ups always say."

  Grady marveled at how much disgust a six-year-old could pack into a few words. "You're right, son. I'm stonewalling here because I figure you deserve a dad who has all the answers, and to tell you the truth, I've got darn few." He cleared his throat and laid it all out. "Maybe I don't show it like Mom does, but I'm pretty scared you won't love me, either."

  That had the boy staring at him as though he'd suddenly grown another head. "Lance said only wimps get scared," he said in a voice that he tried to make cynical.

  "Lance is wrong, Jim. Everyone gets scared."

  That shook the boy big-time. Grady saw it in his eyes and figured he'd blown a chance to make progress. Damn.

  "Way I see it, you're smart enough to figure out what's true and what's not. It might take a while, but sooner or later you'll work it through."

  When Jimmy lapsed into silence, Grady wanted to pound something.

  * * *

  "This is your room, sweetheart."

  Ria opened the door and stepped back to give Jimmy a good look at the bright yellow-and-blue bedroom. Two sets of bunk beds lined opposite walls. There was an identical room on the other side of the hall. Two more bedrooms opened off the far end of the central hall, the larger of the two serving as the master bedroom. The smaller, where Manda had once slept, had been converted into Sarah's sewing room.

  "The bed with the Pooh bear quilt is yours," she said when the boy hesitated on the threshold. Sarah had insisted on holding it ready. Ria felt a pang of guilt at keeping Grady's family at bay. But it was necessary, she reminded herself. Tomorrow, though, she would call her ex-mother-in-law and tell her all about her grandson.

  Warning herself not to hover, she ambled over to the window to raise the miniblinds. Sunshine flooded into the room, warming her face. She took a testing sniff, drawing in the mingled scents of musty air and Sarah's homemade potpourri that invariably greeted her when they arrived. Years of memories flooded her senses as she unlatched the window and pushed up the sash. Wind from the lake beyond the sloping lawn wafted over her, adding a fishy flavor to the mix.

  Located on a spit of land guarding a pretty little cove, the white-painted, frame bungalow Mason Hardin had built with his own hands looked out over a sandy beach on one side and a deep-water pool on the other.

  At the end of a long, white pier she'd helped Grady build one hot, lazy summer sat a sleek maroon-and-white powerboat, bobbing impatiently in the swells. An aluminum fishing boat covered in canvas had been pulled up on the beach.

  All six of the Hardin kids had learned to swim in the shallow water on the leeward side of the spit, then tested their courage in the dark green depths on the other side. She pictured the legendary four-foot catfish called Old Whiskerface lurking somewhere beneath the wind-ruffled surface that looked so serene in the late-morning sunshine and smiled as she turned.

  Jimmy was standing in front of the open closet door, a thoughtful frown playing over his face as he studied a series of marks scribbled onto the yellow paint.

  "Your grandma calls that the Hardin family history," she said when he cast a skittish glance her way. "Every year, on the Fourth of July, Grandma and Grandpa would stand each of their children up against this door and measure their heights."

  Encouraged by the tiny kernel of interest that flashed for a moment in the back of his brown eyes, she stepped closer.

  "This is Daddy, see?"

  She watched his eyes widen as he trailed his gaze upward to the final line, etched there when Grady was eighteen.

  "He's a fraction over six-two," she said, answering the unspoken question in the light brown eyes. "I have a feeling you're going to be at least that tall."

  He absorbed that with a thoughtful look. At least he wasn't scowling, she thought as she traced her fingertip downward along the uneven line of horizontal marks.

  "Let's see, age nine, age eight … here, age six." She touched a red line, then turned to measure the top of his shaggy head against the marker. "I think you have Daddy beat, sweetheart."

  Jimmy's face crinkled into the grin that was a little-boy-version of his dad's—lopsided, dimpled and more than a little cocky. Her mother's heart gave a hard thump of joy—and she wanted to shout. Thank heavens for the always-predictable male ego, she thought on a brilliant burst of hope as she squatted next
to him. He smelled like soap and grape bubble gum.

  "This is you at age three." She touched her nail to a bold green mark about thirty inches from the floor. "You didn't want to stand still long enough for Daddy to measure you, so I bribed you with a gingerbread man." She smiled. "I packed the ones Grandma Hardin made. Just in case you change your mind about not liking them."

  His eyes lighted. "The ones with green buttons?"

  Her heart jolted. He remembered! It was the first crack. A beginning. God bless Dr. Roth and her brilliant idea.

  "No, she only makes green buttons for St. Patrick's Day." She had to swallow the need to smother him with kisses. "Were those your favorite? The … the ones with the green buttons?"

  He considered, then darted a glance around the room, as though afraid to be overheard. "I don't remember," he muttered, glancing down at his new sneakers.

  Patience, she told herself. Give him time.

  "Hey, how about we measure you now?" she suggested in her brightest voice. "We can show Daddy when he comes in?"

  "Daddy's already in."

  Startled, she let out a whoosh of surprise and spun around. Grady had a garment bag over one shoulder, her tote on the other and two suitcases in each hand.

  Looking more relaxed than she'd seen him since that heart-stopping moment when he'd guided Jimmy across the threshold, he was wearing khaki shorts and a yellow polo shirt she'd bought him years ago, faded now to a soft buttery color. Frequent washings had shrunk the material so that the cotton knit was stretched over his chest, and the tight ribbing of the short sleeves cut into his biceps. She felt the liquid pull of desire and fought a need to rub up against him.

  "What are you two up to here?" he demanded in his best street cop tone. "Plotting against Dad already?"

  Ria caught the quick, uncertain look Jimmy sent her way and winked. "I was showing Jimmy the famous Hardin family history."

  Grady grinned. "Impressive, isn't it, son?" Jimmy blinked, and for the tiniest instant, she thought she might have seen a gleam in his eyes before his mouth turned wary again.

  "Lance is a lot taller."

  * * *

  Grady dumped a stack of briefs into the dresser drawer and slammed it shut. "I gotta tell you, honey, I'm getting damn tired of hearing about that bastard, Lance, and how great he is."

  Ria closed the suitcase she'd just emptied. "Jimmy remembered the green buttons on the gingerbread men, Grady. It shook him pretty bad, too, which is why I think he said that about Lance as a kind of security blanket."

  His eyes darkened, and a muscle ticked just above the hard knot of tension in his jaw. "You think talking about Lance is his security blanket?"

  "Yes, that's what I think."

  He sighed, then took her into his arms. "I think you're one smart lady, Victoria Madison Hardin. Gutsy, too." He kissed her forehead, then rested his chin on the top of her head. She smelled sunshine on his skin.

  "I figure, with your guts and my stubbornness the kid will make it past this adjustment period in good shape." She heard him chuckle deep in his throat. "If old Dad's patience holds out."

  "I'd bet on it." She burrowed closer, needing to lean just a little longer.

  "It's damn humbling when a guy's only son thinks a frigging drug runner is some kind of hero." She heard the bleak note in his voice and realized he was hurting. Grady all but worshiped his own father, and she suspected he'd always wanted Jimmy to look up to him in the same way.

  At three Jimmy had.

  "Maybe he hasn't had any other male adult in his life as a comparison," she said, tightening her arms around his solid waist.

  Returning to the familiar room where they'd lain together during their honeymoon talking about the life they would make for their children had shaken her more than she'd expected.

  Her dreams had been so bright then, and they'd been so young and hopeful. So full of promises. He would always make her feel special and adored. She would fill his life with strong sons and adorable daughters.

  Now they were no longer young, no longer full of idealism and impossible dreams. Jimmy would be the only child she would ever give him. Grady had his work, she had hers.

  He stroked her back with the flat of his big hand, and she felt the tension draining away. Little by little she relaxed, letting herself be lulled by his warmth.

  "Hey, you're not falling asleep on me, are you?" He drew back to look down at her.

  "Mmm." She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

  "Guess you think I'm a jerk, wanting my son to like me better than that … other guy," he said with a smile playing over his mouth.

  "I think you're a good man who loves his son and is trying every way he knows how to be there for him."

  "I'm not so sure I've done anything to earn many points so far."

  She saw a muscle bunch in his jaw and smiled. "I thought I was the impatient one in this family."

  His face changed, and his eyes grew very dark. "Is that what we are now, Ree? A family."

  She heard the quiet note of hope in his voice and ached. "I don't know, Grady. I just know I like being here with you, even though it scares me. I know you want more, but…"

  His lashes flickered, and for an instant he looked disappointed before his grin slanted. "Hey, you ain't seen nothing, honey. Just wait until I turn on the old Hardin charm. Ain't no way you're gonna keep from falling for me all over again."

  She laughed because he expected it. But even as she lifted her face for his kiss, she felt the tug of guilt. What if he was wrong? What if she'd built the walls around her heart too high and too strong? What if even the two of them together couldn't find a way through them?

  Grady felt her stiffen and made himself pull back from the hunger that grew stronger in him with each minute he spent near her. Hunger to hold her. To kiss her long enough and hard enough to push her past her need to test each step. To earn again the love he'd so carelessly thrown away.

  "Relax, honey, I'll hear him if he starts down the hall."

  He was giving her an out and prayed big time she would take it. The last thing he wanted at the moment was more talk. After a man spilled out his heart at his feet, anything he added was too damn close to groveling.

  "It's just that … I can't make any promises."

  "I don't remember asking for any."

  "Not in so many words." She sighed, then touched his face so gently it pained him all the way to the quick. "I don't want to hurt you, Grady."

  He'd seen enough suffering to last a dozen lifetimes. Seeing it in her eyes nearly laid him flat. Knowing it was because of him had him wanting to bloody someone.

  Instead, he found the cocky grin that no one but his mom had ever cared enough to look behind. "I'm already hurting, honey." He cupped her bottom and nudged her closer to the arousal that was already straining his shorts.

  Her eyes widened, and her breath hissed out in a little gasp. He gritted his teeth and thrust gently against her. "That's … oh!" She took a quick breath. "That's not, uh, what I meant and you know it."

  "I know I want you." He clamped his jaw down tight and rubbed against her. The jagged burst of desire in her eyes was enough for now. "I know you want me. Anything else can wait."

  "Be serious, Grady."

  "Honey, I don't know how much more serious I can get before I burst."

  Her laughter was a gift he cherished. "Hold that thought," she whispered, doing a little rubbing of her own. He nearly lost it before he made himself draw back.

  "Tonight," he grated, his voice raw. "Five minutes after Jim's tucked up tight, I want you naked."

  * * *

  It took considerably longer to finish unpacking and coax Jimmy through a shampoo and bath. Then while Ria read him a chapter of the tattered copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer she'd found tucked into one of the bookcases, Grady had checked the locks on all the doors and windows.

  A cop's paranoia, he'd told her. She'd simply smiled, but he'd seen the relief in her eyes. While she shower
ed, he put in a patient half hour watching Jim annihilate galaxy after galaxy while excitedly explaining each complex maneuver that had laid the enemy low. By the time Grady's ears were ringing and Jimmy's eyelids were drooping, it was close to ten o'clock.

  "In you go, tiger," Grady ordered, drawing back the covers.

  "Moira always lets me watch that funny guy with the cigar who comes on after the news," Jimmy protested sullenly as he climbed between the sheets.

  Grady figured Moira wasn't watching much late-night TV these days. Not unless California jails were a lot more liberal than the ones in Indiana.

  "One of these days real soon your mom and I will sit down and iron out some rules, but until then, we'll go by the ones my folks had for me." He grinned. "Which means lights out by ten during the summer."

  Jimmy's lower lip zoomed out. "That's a dumb rule."

  "You're certainly entitled to your opinion." Grady slipped the computer game out from under the pillow where Jim had stashed it.

  The sleepy look vanished as the boy reared up. "Hey, give that back."

  "Tomorrow." Grady grinned. "Right before old Dad leaves for town."

  "Not fair," Jimmy muttered, but he settled down again, only to rear up almost immediately. "Where's Trouble?"

  Grady glanced around. "It takes him a while to settle in someplace new. Probably doesn't know where he's supposed to bunk, so you'd best whistle for him."

  Jimmy stared, big-eyed and skeptical. "Cats don't come when you whistle."

  "I have a dollar that says he does."

  Jimmy worried his lip and considered, looking for the kicker. Grady hoped the cat didn't come waltzing in before he got this particular fish on the line.

  "Don't have no money to bet," Jimmy declared finally, looking disappointed.

  Grady set the hook. "How about this? If you're right, I'll give you back your game and pretend I don't hear those godawful noises in the middle of the night. But if I'm right, you agree to call Ria Mom all day tomorrow." Pressing his advantage, he stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

  Jimmy hesitated. "Who gets to do the whistling?"