No Matter What

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Over your head.”

  Another sniffle. “I guess. He’s older and he knew what he was doing and I didn’t and… But I liked him so much, and when he liked me, too…” The last came out as a wail.

  Molly felt a burn beneath her breastbone. She understood. How could she not? She’d been a teenager, hopelessly aware of a boy who would never in a million years notice her. And then a freshman in college when a boy like that did notice her—and she, too, had ended up pregnant long before she’d planned for any such eventuality. Yes, she’d been older than Cait, but any wiser? Not so much.

  “Right now,” she said, “I think we both need to go to bed.”

  “I can’t go to school tomorrow!”

  “Yes, you can, and you have to.” She held up a hand when Cait would have interrupted. “You’re not going to be any less scared or upset on Tuesday or Wednesday. Or even next Monday. And if you should decide to carry this baby to term…” Her throat wanted to close up as she envisioned her increasingly pregnant daughter walking the halls of the high school. Or transferring to the alternative school? “Chances are good you won’t make it all the way through the school year. So you’ll miss days then. You can’t afford to miss any now.”

  Cait gulped.

  “Do you want me to confront Trevor with you? I could call you both to my office....”

  “No!” Her daughter leaped to her feet, her face a study in alarm. “You wouldn’t!”

  “You have to tell him.”

  “I know I do.” She swiped at her eyes. “I will. But I need to do it my own way, okay?”

  “Fair enough,” Molly said, although she didn’t agree. “Just…pick your time carefully, okay? Maybe after school?”

  Cait nodded. She was crying again. Molly’s heart was wrung by pity, but also some anger, and it wasn’t all aimed at Trevor. She would have sworn Cait was so mature for her age. Molly had nearly treated her as an adult. They’d talked openly about everything, including sex and birth control. And then brooding Trevor Ward had walked into West Fork High School and Cait’s brains had scrambled.

  Hormones do that.

  I thought I’d Kevlar-vest-armored her against making the same mistakes I did. So what happened?

  Trevor happened.

  And the truth was—she felt hollow, thinking this for the ten thousandth time and finally understanding it was true—you can’t protect your children. Not 24/7, without fail. Not the way you want to.

  I didn’t believe it, Molly admitted, and now she felt grief.

  * * *

  “CAITLYN CALLAHAN CALLED,” Richard told his son. They didn’t get that many calls on the home phone. The ring had startled him.

  Trevor grunted, one foot on the bottom step.

  “The third time this week.”

  “Yeah, like she can’t talk to me at school.” After that momentary pause, Trevor took the stairs two at a time.

  Richard stared after him. What was going on? He’d only caught a glimpse or two of her, but enough to see that Caitlyn was an exceptionally pretty girl. Really pretty. There was a reason Trev had cut her from the herd within days of starting school here. Richard still didn’t know who’d dumped whom, but unless this girl was completely lacking in pride, he had trouble seeing why she’d make a nuisance of herself pursuing his son once he’d lost interest. There had to be plenty of other boys who’d be glad to fill the vacuum.

  Frowning after Trevor, Richard gave some serious thought to calling Molly and asking what she knew. But hell, he knew that was overstepping. He had no real grounds for this uneasy feeling. Maybe girls had gotten pushier than they were in his day. Even then, there’d been a few who didn’t hesitate to call a boy, and call again. Let Caitlyn back Trevor into a corner at school if she was determined enough.

  He tried to shrug it off, tried not to regret the lack of any good excuse to call Molly, maybe even see her. In the week since the high school dance, he’d come to his senses about asking her out. It was a bad idea all around. She would have said no and he’d have been humiliated. As long as Trevor stood between them, that wasn’t happening, even assuming she’d have been otherwise interested. Maybe next year, once Trev had graduated—if he did. Maybe then, if Richard could determine whether she was really single.

  He went to the kitchen to find something to throw together for dinner. He wasn’t much of a cook, which embarrassed him some. But why would he be? Lexa had done the cooking when they were married, and later there wasn’t much motivation, not when the only person he was feeding was himself. Summers when he had the kids, he’d tried harder; made sure he served a vegetable with dinner, grilled steaks, made salads. Even followed a few recipes. The last summer they were here, Trev and Bree had taken turns putting dinner on the table most days, and both of them were pretty decent cooks. Lexa’s influence, Richard guessed. Went without saying that Trev hadn’t so much as turned on the coffeemaker for his father this year.

  Trev slouched downstairs for the hamburgers, baked beans and corn Richard served for dinner. For the first weeks, Richard had tried talking during dinner about his day, maybe mentioning some things he’d read in the morning paper, offered an anecdote from when Trev was little. Talking, he’d discovered, was worse than the silence, so sometime in the ten weeks Trevor had now been with him, Richard had given up. They ate in complete silence tonight, although he wanted to ask, Why are you dodging that girl? Why can’t you make it clear you’re not interested? Or is she intent on saying something you don’t want to hear?

  He felt a little chill at that last thought. What could she possibly want to say that would have his big bad son ducking and weaving? Was there any chance Trevor actually still had a conscience, and was avoiding the admission that he’d treated her poorly?

  But—how had he treated her poorly?

  “Please clean the kitchen,” he said, and pushed away from the table. “The Steelers are on, playing Kansas City.”

  “Yeah, I don’t care about either team.”

  Neither did Richard, but he still enjoyed watching an occasional game. He wasn’t a fanatic; he didn’t give up every Sunday to stay glued to the television. But tonight he thought it would be a good way to unwind.

  His phone rang, and he had to go looking. He’d set it down on the kitchen counter when he started work on dinner. He didn’t recognize the caller’s number, which surprised him, but it was a local one.

  “Hello?”

  “May I speak to Mr. Ward?”

  He knew who this was. “Ms. Callahan?” he said in surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trevor turn slowly from the dishwasher, a dirty plate in his hand.

  “That’s right.” She sounded all buttoned-down, not pissed but not friendly, either. “Are you aware that Caitlyn has been trying to reach Trevor?”

  “Yes, actually I am. I passed on a message this afternoon.”

  “Since he’s refusing to speak to her, I have to ask if we can meet.” There was a pause. “At my home. And I’d appreciate it if you could bring Trevor.”

  Oh, shit. This couldn’t be good. His eyes were locked with his son’s. Trevor couldn’t possibly hear what she was saying, but he was braced for something, and it wasn’t good.

  “Yes, Ms. Callahan. When?”

  “Is Trevor home now?”

  “Yes.”

  “This evening would work for us.” So Caitlyn was to be included in this showdown. Oh, shit, he thought again. “If tonight’s not good…”

  “Tonight’s good,” Richard said. “Where do you live?”

  She gave him her address and he told her he didn’t need directions. He’d lived here his entire life, and had worked on what seemed like half the houses in town. Given the address, he knew exactly where she lived—a neighborhood of upscale town houses built…oh, five or six years ago. Ward Electrical had done the wiring, so he even knew the layout options. Each had a pocket front yard and a not much bigger backyard. They were nice places, though—two story, with clean styling he liked, the
garages off alleys that were as wide as some city streets.

  “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said, still not looking away from Trevor, who was shaking his head frantically. Richard pocketed the phone. “You got the gist of that.”

  “Us?” He let loose some obscenities, followed by, “What’s this about? Is Mommy the vice principal going to chew me out because I broke her little girl’s heart?”

  “I really doubt that’s what Mommy the vice principal has to say,” Richard said grimly. “Trevor, did you have sex with this girl?”

  He had his answer in the panic on his son’s face.

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s… She wanted it, too!”

  “How old?” he ground out.

  Trevor swallowed. “Uh…fifteen. I think.”

  Richard closed his eyes. “Goddamn it, Trevor.” As if all this would be any better if the girl had passed her sixteenth birthday. Was this a nightmare? Had Trevor just ruined his life, the same way his dad had ruined his?

  “Forget the dishes,” he said. “We’re going over there right now to find out what this is about.”

  Trevor tried to say no. Vehemently, profanely, even physically. Richard all but dragged him out to the pickup, thrust him in the passenger side. “You will come with me. For the first time since you got off that airplane, you will behave like a decent human being. Do you hear me?”

  Breathing hard, eyes black with fear, Trevor finally nodded. Richard went around and got in. Neither said another word, not while the garage door rose, not during the short drive. Not even when he parked at the curb in front of one of the town houses, painted a warm gold with darker gold-and-brown trim.

  Molly opened the door, and studied Trevor with slightly narrowed eyes. “Thank you for coming,” she said, and stood back to let them in.

  For a moment, despite his tension, she was all Richard saw. Her hair was loose, a cloud of wavy, wayward fire. It was the first time he’d seen it that way. Brown cords emphasized those long legs and hips he fantasized getting his hands on—when he’d had enough of touching her hair. A cowl-necked sweater in something soft bared enough throat and collarbone to jolt him. No freckles. Why didn’t she have freckles?

  He gave his libido a good yank and deliberately looked around. Away from Molly.

  She led them into a living room that surprised him. Cream walls were hung with textile art, everything from an antique crib-size quilt to a weaving that he guessed was South American. The rugs scattered on the hardwood floor were all interesting, too, some likely vintage if not antique. Bookcases were mostly full of books, but held some art that he thought might be African or South or Central American, too. Different. The coffee table looked Shaker, the sofa was a dark red plush fabric and the two easy chairs were covered in a dark blue and sage green, respectively. Somehow the colors of furniture, rugs and wall hangings all worked together. He saw it all quickly; it was only an impression, but he was impressed.

  Intimidated, too, which got his back up. Had she decorated the room to please herself, or to show off her education and cultured tastes? It bothered him suddenly that he hadn’t changed out of his usual work uniform of dark green trousers and a matching shirt with his name stitched on the pocket. Yes, I am blue collar. He wasn’t usually that sensitive about his profession, but in this case the reminder struck him as healthy. It would be good to keep some distance.

  “Please. Have a seat,” Molly said, without a trace of warmth. “Caitlyn?” she called.

  Her daughter ventured into the room. Her averted face meant she didn’t look at either Trevor or Richard. Some instinct made Richard grip his son’s shoulder and give a single, reassuring squeeze. If what was coming was what Richard expected, Trevor needed to know he had support—so long as he did act with any sort of decency and honor.

  Richard sat at one end of the sofa, Trev at the other. Mother and daughter took the chairs facing them.

  “What’s this about?” he asked bluntly. Trevor, he saw, was staring balefully at Caitlyn.

  “Caitlyn is pregnant,” Molly said, equally blunt.

  He jerked with shock. He’d expected it, yes. But he knew now that he hadn’t really. Maybe this was what it felt like to drive to the hospital when you got a call telling you your kid had been in a car accident. You might bargain with God the whole drive, but you didn’t really believe this person you loved more than any other in the world could actually die.

  Before he could say anything, Trevor leaped to his feet. “You’re just saying this because you’re mad,” he accused.

  Face bleached pale, Caitlyn gaped at Trevor. “I wouldn’t!”

  “Sit down,” Molly ordered, and maybe long practice gave her voice enough snap his son obeyed. Dropped, as if his knees had given out.

  “But we used…” His face went stark.

  “We didn’t the first time,” the girl mumbled.

  “I pulled out.” Color slashed over his cheeks as he darted a look from his father to his former girlfriend’s mother. His mouth opened, closed then worked a few times.

  All the breath left Richard and he bent forward, elbows on his knees, and let his head sag. Oh, damn. Oh, damn. Was his gifted son really that stupid?

  There was a good long silence after Trevor’s so brilliant remark. “And you actually believed that was good enough?” Molly’s incredulity was almost disguised. Almost.

  “The guys say there’s hardly any chance…”

  “The guys are idiots,” she told him crisply.

  Back to the wall, he glowered at Caitlyn. “How do I know it’s mine?”

  She gasped and jumped up in turn. “You…you…you jerk.”

  “I’m just asking. I’ve seen you with Jed Sawyer.”

  “He’s a friend!” Her voice vibrated with outrage.

  “How am I supposed to know?” Trevor snarled.

  Molly looked at Richard. “Is this how you encourage him to take responsibility for his actions?”

  His head went back. “You’re blaming me?”

  “He’s your son.”

  “I didn’t even want to have sex!” Caitlyn was yelling. Tears ran down her cheeks. “But I liked you. You knew I wasn’t ready.”

  Oh, hell. Trevor was back on his feet, too, his shoulders hunched like an angry bull. Or maybe it was one that felt threatened. “You could have said no.”

  Richard found himself rising to his feet, as well. This felt like a bar brawl in the making. He was stunned, angry, scared, all at the same time. And deeply ashamed of his kid.

  “And then you ditched me.” The girl’s eyes were wild, her hair seeming to have gained volume and fire from her emotions. It wasn’t really that red, was it? Not compared to her mom’s.

  “You’re the one who got weird!” Trevor bellowed. “I had a thing for you. If you’d told me no, I would have been okay with it.”

  “Oh, right. Oh, sure.” Caitlyn’s hands were curled into fists at her side. “When I tried to talk to you, you made fun of me. You told me I wasn’t grown-up. That it was your mistake to hook up with a little girl.”

  Richard groaned, which brought Molly’s furious gaze back to him.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  Voice reaching near hysteria, Caitlyn kept on as if the two parents weren’t in the room. “You wanted a girl who was ready for something ‘real.’ Remember that? One who didn’t still play with Barbie dolls. You got what you wanted, and then you told me to run along!”

  “Well, you’re getting yours back, aren’t you?” Trevor spat. “Bet you’re really satisfied. It’s all my fault. Like you weren’t there.” Except he added a few more words, ones that had Molly’s eyes going slitty.

  Richard raised his voice. “Sit down! Both of you.”

  “Finally, some sense,” Molly snapped.

  He turned a dirty look on her. “You should have known better than to have set us up like this.”

  “Set you up?” Now, finally, she shot to her feet. “This is how you take respo
nsibility?”

  “What kind of responsibility are we talking?” he asked her. “What are you trying to do, push my son into marrying her?”

  “And I suppose you assume she’ll get an abortion,” she said, equally nastily, “and oh, thank goodness, Trevor’s off the hook.”

  A sob broke from Caitlyn, who spun and raced from the room. The thunder of footsteps on stairs silenced them all until the slam of a door. Richard felt a nerve in his cheek twitch.

  Trevor stared after her for a long time. “This can’t be happening.” He sounded like he was talking to himself.

  “It’s happening,” Richard said.

  Trev turned a look of hate on his father. “Yeah, thanks, Dad. I really needed that.” He spat another expletive and walked out. The slam of the front door was louder than the one upstairs, and it resonated through Richard.

  He’d automatically turned to try to stop Trevor. Now he stood with his back to Molly, head hanging again, and pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it hurt. What a mess. And I’m not making things better. It took him a minute, but finally he was able to square his shoulders, lift his head and face her again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Can we start again?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DEEPLY ASHAMED OF HERSELF, Molly sank back into the chair. “Yes,” she said. “Of course we can. You’re not the one who should be apologizing. I am.” He frowned and she shook her head. “You’re right. I did blindside you.” She hadn’t known she was doing it because she was angry, but she understood now that she’d wanted to see their faces, Trevor’s and Richard’s both, when she told them.

  With a sigh, he came back to the sofa and sat, too. “I guess I knew from the minute you called. I could tell Trevor was antsy, avoiding Caitlyn. I worried without quite putting it into words.”

  “It would have been better if I’d told you on the phone so the two of you could have some time to absorb the news before we talked. I really am sorry I didn’t do that.”