by Irene Hannon
Only when they pulled into the driveway of a small ranch-style house did she wrap things up and focus her attention outside the window.
“Is this where you grew up, Keith?”
“Yep.” He set the brake. “Home sweet home. Sit tight while I release the prisoner and see what she has to say about visitors.”
“Take your time.” Claire rolled down her window. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Yeah, it had been.
So far.
And as he slid out of the car, he hoped it stayed that way.
18
“Here he comes!” Haley leaned over the front seat again as Keith exited his mother’s front door and started toward them. “That didn’t take long. Do you think we’re going to get to go in?”
Claire studied Keith. He looked . . . nervous. Considering how reluctant he’d been about sharing his background, that must mean his mother wanted to meet them—and he was worried about what she’d reveal.
“I think so.”
Confirming her conclusion, he detoured around the driver’s side and opened her door. “Command performance.”
He gave her a smile . . . but she knew him well enough by now to pick up the strain around the edges.
Haley bounded out of the car, but Claire hesitated. Might as well offer him one final chance to bail. “If you’d rather not be delayed, we could skip.”
“Too late. Mom’s touching up her lipstick and combing her hair. You’re stuck.”
She didn’t feel stuck . . . but it was pretty clear he did.
“Taking someone to a family event is significant.”
His comment about David inviting Maureen to his grandson’s birthday party replayed in her mind. This wasn’t a family event, and it hadn’t been planned, but Keith was a private person. Perhaps he’d never even mentioned her and Haley to his mother until today.
On the other hand, he could have taken them home first. Coming here had been his choice.
Stop analyzing every move, Claire. Go with the flow for once.
Taking that advice to heart, she got out of the car.
Keith shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked toward the house. “I, uh, haven’t said anything to Mom about us.” So her guess had been correct. “I don’t typically talk about women I, uh, go out with. And I’ve never brought any of them here.”
It wasn’t difficult to follow his line of thought from there.
He was afraid his mother was going to jump to conclusions—and he didn’t want her to.
Not the best omen for their future.
Claire’s spirits took a dive.
“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to suggest we’re more than friends.” Her words came out stiffer than she intended.
He noticed.
Touching her arm, he stopped and faced her. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that my mom’s been after me lately to think about settling down, and given your . . . caution . . . I don’t want her to make assumptions that might not be true from your end.”
Her wariness was the reason he was less-than-enthusiastic about this meeting? He wasn’t confident in how interested she was?
Could that be on the level?
Maybe.
After all, she had been dragging her feet. It made sense that he wouldn’t want his mom to get too enthusiastic about a woman who might not be in his life in a month or two—or even next week.
“Hey! Are you guys coming?” Haley sent them an impatient look from the front porch.
“We’ll be right there.” Claire waved at her, then turned back to Keith. “I understand your reasoning.” She read the disappointment in his eyes—almost as if he’d hoped she’d reassure him about her interest. But she wasn’t going to make promises she might not be able to keep, depending on how things went between them. “We’ll play this low-key, okay?”
“Sure.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
His mother was waiting in the foyer when they stepped inside, and before Keith could introduce them, Claire found her hand taken in a warm clasp.
“Welcome, my dear. It’s so nice to meet you.” She sent her son a reproving glance. “You didn’t tell me she was such a beauty. Of course, my son doesn’t tell me much of anything about his personal life.”
“We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Watson.”
“Please, call me Alice. And you must be Haley.” Keith’s mother turned to her daughter. “And you’re just as pretty as your mother. What did the three of you do today?”
“We went ice-skating.”
At Haley’s response, Alice’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that right? I can’t recall the last time Keith was on the ice.” She sent her son a speculative look.
“He did real good, except for one bad fall in the beginning and another when he was skating with my mom. But we had a lot of fun.”
“Well.” Alice gave them all a sunny smile. “I’m sure you did. Now I imagine you must be hungry after all that energy you expended skating. I have some sandwich fixings in the—”
“We already went out for pizza, Mom.”
“But thank you,” Claire tacked on.
“Oh.” His mother’s face fell for a moment, then brightened. “In that case, can I tempt you with dessert? I made some cheesecake brownies for tomorrow’s dinner, and there’s way more than Keith and I can eat.”
“That sounds great!”
At Haley’s enthusiastic response, Claire stepped in. “Except I know a little girl who has a whole pile of homework waiting in her room.”
Her daughter wrinkled her nose.
Based on Alice’s crestfallen expression, Keith’s mother was clearly as disappointed as Haley.
Claire bit her lip. Alice seemed so nice . . . warm and welcoming and radiating kindness. The kind of woman Claire would enjoy getting to know. Would it really hurt if they stayed long enough to eat one brownie?
As if reading her mind, Keith spoke for the first time—to her. “I wouldn’t mind having a preview of my mom’s efforts, if you can spare another ten minutes.”
She searched his eyes. Odd. They didn’t appear conflicted anymore. Either he’d resigned himself to the situation, or he didn’t figure another ten minutes was going to make things any worse.
“The majority rules. Besides, I’d love to sample one of those brownies too.”
“Yay!” That from her daughter.
“Wonderful!” Alice gestured toward the back of the house. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”
Claire followed the older woman. She looked to be around seventy, yet her step was spry and her face reflected a youthful enthusiasm. Kind of how she’d expected her own mother to be at this age, had Alzheimer’s not dimmed the spark in her eyes and stripped her of everything except her physical body. Though that, too, had withered away in the end.
“Claire?” Keith placed a hand on her arm.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she refocused. The three of them were watching her, and warmth stole over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I zoned out for a minute. I was thinking about my mother. You remind me of her in some ways, Alice.”
“I take it she’s gone home to God?”
“Yes. Alzheimer’s.”
“I’m so sorry, my dear.” Keith’s mother placed a hand on her other arm. “That’s a terrible disease. But I hope you have good memories to sustain you, from happier times.”
“Yes.”
Odd. With Keith’s hand on one arm and his mother’s on the other, she suddenly felt far less alone than she had in a very long while.
“That’s a blessing, then. Happy memories are a great comfort.” Alice patted her hand.
“Mom asked if you’d like some coffee, Claire.”
At Keith’s gentle prompt, she nodded. No wonder they’d all been looking at her. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“None at all. I always keep a pot going. One of my few vices.” She winked. “Have a seat while I serve up the brownies.�
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Claire kept an eye on Keith as they ate their dessert and chatted, doing her best to direct the conversation to innocuous topics. Although he demolished his brownie in a few bites, his tension appeared to have dissipated. Even when his mother offered them a quick tour of the house—including his old room, which had been converted to a guest room albeit with plenty of Keith’s life still on display—he didn’t seem perturbed.
So it wasn’t his history in this house that was off-limits, apparently.
Just the pre-adoption stuff.
“What’s that for?” Haley pointed to an impressive trophy on a shelf in the corner of the guest room.
“Keith won that when he was on the debate team in high school.” Alice moved into the room and began to give them an inventory of the various trophies, awards, certificates, and ribbons displayed on the walls and shelves. It seemed he’d excelled in both sports and scholastics, and he even had a commendation for coaching a league-champion youth baseball team.
On top of all that, he was an Eagle Scout.
Impressive.
Only after Alice crossed to another bookcase did Keith grow uncomfortable. “Mom . . . they don’t need to hear about all that stuff. It’s old news. You ought to put some of it away.”
“Why? I’m proud of it—and proud of you.”
“Your son is quite accomplished.” Claire aimed her comment at the woman, bending to examine a math commendation.
“Modest too.”
Haley was still staring wide-eyed around the room. “Wow. This stuff is awesome. All I have is a science project award and a spelling certificate.”
“You have plenty of time to earn more, kiddo. Life is just getting started for you.” Keith drained his coffee mug. “Are you ladies ready to go home?”
“Yes. Because winning awards like these takes a lot of effort—an excellent incentive to focus on that homework waiting in your room.” Claire sent her daughter a pointed look. “The reprieve is over.”
Haley’s shoulders drooped.
“I think that’s our cue.” With a wink at Haley, Keith led them back to the foyer.
Claire extended her hand to his mother at the front door. “Thank you so much for the wonderful dessert and tour.”
Instead of taking her hand, Alice pulled her into a hug. “It was my pleasure. You come back any time.” Then she turned to Haley and gave her a hug as well. “The same goes for you, young lady. This visit was too short.”
“Yeah. But I loved your brownies. That cheesecake stuff on top was yummy.”
“I’m partial to that myself—even if my waistline isn’t.”
“You’re trim as ever, Mom.” Keith leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“The highlight of my week.” She patted his cheek. “Reverend Patterson is preaching, though, and I’m staying for the social afterward, so don’t come too early. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day—and I’m sure you will.” She aimed a knowing look toward Claire.
Taking Haley’s arm, Claire guided her daughter out the door, Keith on her heels.
Haley jabbered almost nonstop on the way home, asking questions Claire wouldn’t have considered broaching—but she was just as interested in the answers as the little girl. And Keith didn’t appear to mind the cross-examination.
“Do you go visit your Mom every Sunday?”
“Yes.”
A dutiful son. Nice.
“Do you go to church first?”
He hesitated. “Sometimes.”
Meaning he wasn’t the most diligent Christian—but who was she to point fingers? At least he believed.
“Did you have a bunch of friends on your street when you were growing up?”
“Not a bunch—but I was close with a couple of them. I spent a lot of time studying, so I wasn’t the most social kid.”
He was selective in his companions and a bit of an introvert, preferring books to socializing. Not bad qualities, either.
By the time they pulled into her driveway, she’d also learned he missed his father a lot, didn’t remember either set of grandparents, rarely took vacations but when he did enjoyed solo camping trips in the mountains, and jogged three miles every other morning.
Her daughter would make a fine police interrogator.
But the easy give-and-take evaporated as he pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine.
“Your mom is nice.” Haley unhooked her seat belt.
“Yeah, she is. I had two great parents.”
“Did you ever meet your real mom and dad?”
At the innocent question, he froze. Despite the distance separating them, Claire could feel his sudden tension.
“No.”
Time to run some interference.
“Haley, would you grab our coats?”
“Okay.”
As her daughter gathered up the outerwear piled on the backseat, she picked up the conversation before Haley had a chance to continue her previous line of questioning. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
Brow furrowed, Keith flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Actually, I brought along a few tools. I thought I’d take a stab at fixing that leak in your kitchen faucet—if you’d like me to.”
“Yeah, we would. That plop, plop, plop is driving us crazy, isn’t it, Mom?” Coats bundled in her arms, Haley pushed her door open and clambered out.
Claire angled toward him and lowered her voice. “You don’t need an excuse to stay. You’re welcome to come in, no strings—or handyman jobs—attached. And I’ll head off any other uncomfortable questions.”
He gave her a smile that held no mirth. “I forgot how inquisitive kids can be.”
“This particular kid is about to be relegated to her room with her schoolbooks.” She checked her watch. “Well past the agreed-upon start time, thanks to your mother’s kind offer of dessert.”
“Mom enjoyed it.”
“So did I. She’s a very nice woman.”
“Who’s also very inquisitive.” He sighed. “I’ll get the third degree tomorrow . . . but I’ll deal with it.” He gestured toward the trunk. “Shall I get the tools? You’re wasting a lot of water in there—an environmental no-no. Plus, leaks increase your water bill.”
“When you put it that way . . . how can I refuse?”
“Give me a minute to gather up my equipment and I’ll join you inside. Sit tight while I get your door.”
“I’ve already got it.” She lifted the handle and scooted out, then bent down to look back at him. “I’ll settle Haley in with her homework while you get your stuff.”
With that, she closed the door and joined her daughter on the porch.
“Is Keith staying?”
“Yes.” She dug out her key and fitted it in the lock. “But you, young lady, are done partying for today. That grade on your last geography test wasn’t acceptable. Go work on those maps.”
“Oh, Mom.”
“Don’t ‘oh, Mom,’ me.” She shouldered the door open and guided Haley inside. “As it is, you’re only going to get in half an hour of studying before it’s time for bed. It’s already eight-thirty. You’ll have to finish up tomorrow.”
Her daughter didn’t seem in the least upset about deferring the bulk of her homework to another day.
Haley dumped their jackets and gloves on the nearest chair. “What are you guys going to do after he fixes the faucet?”
“I expect he’ll leave then.”
“Maybe he’ll stay and talk for a while again.”
“Maybe. But you’ll be in bed.” She gave her a gentle push in the direction of her room.
With a theatrical sigh, Haley trudged down the hall.
As for whether Keith would linger . . . she wasn’t hopeful. A discreet glance out the sidelight revealed he was still sitting behind the wheel. Perhaps second-guessing his decision to stay, despite her promise to divert unwanted questions?
She half expected him to p
ut the car back in gear and drive away.
Because even if the adoption issue had been dodged tonight, the more they saw of each other, the higher the probability it would come up again. Keith had to know that as well as she did—and it was clear he found it disturbing.
The question was, why?
What was he so afraid to share?
He couldn’t keep sitting in the car. Claire was waiting for him inside.
But after everything that had happened today, he needed a couple of minutes to develop a game plan.
Lifting his right hand, he examined it. It looked the same as it had this morning—but it sure didn’t feel the same. It was still tingling from the warmth of her fingers clasped in his at the rink . . . a completely unplanned, spur-of-the-moment intimacy.
What had come over him, anyway? Hadn’t he labored over the pros and cons of her invitation before accepting? Hadn’t he decided to go, but play the whole thing cool—fun, friendly, laid-back? Hadn’t he resolved not to push her past her boundaries, give her a chance to get comfortable with the notion of romance before initiating any touching?
Yes, yes, and yes.
But one look at her standing next to him on the ice, those blue eyes fixed on him as if no one else in the world existed, her lips soft and appealing, and he’d caved.
Yet he didn’t regret his impetuousness—because from the instant their fingers intertwined, he’d felt complete. Like he’d been waiting all his life for this woman to appear and claim his hand . . . and perhaps his heart.
Keith raked his fingers through his hair. This was crazy. He was a methodical, balance-sheet kind of guy. He’d never been rash, never made decisions without thorough analysis. But this thing with Claire defied logic. He’d known her . . . what? A month? Yet he was thinking seriously about a future with her.
Very seriously.
Not that he’d rush into anything, of course, or make any kind of commitment. It was too soon for that. Still . . . he could begin laying the groundwork. Should begin laying the groundwork if he had intentions that might involve a ring down the road.
And therein lay the problem, as he’d recognized early on.
He had to tell her about his past, as she’d told him about hers. She needed to understand why he always worked so hard to prove himself. Why he found it difficult to trust. Why, even now—and despite his success in the business world—he was often afraid everything he’d worked for would disappear tomorrow.