by Jami Alden
"Then we should take it to the car doctor."
If only it were that easy.
Once again she silently cursed Troy and the circumstances he'd saddled her with. It wasn't like she was even complaining about driving a Honda instead of a BMW. She just wanted to be able to fix her car so she wasn't holding her breath every time she drove it, praying all the way that she would make it wherever she was going.
"I need to save up a little more money first," she replied, and breathed a slow sigh of relief when she pulled into the driveway.
They went inside, and she set up Anthony with some cartoons while she unpacked the groceries. She unwrapped the ground beef, dumped it in a bowl, threw in some salt and pepper, and was about to start mixing when there was a knock at the door.
Despite her near constant admonishments not to answer the door by himself, Anthony sprinted to the entryway and flung the door open before Ellie cleared the kitchen.
She hesitated, her heart jumping to her throat when she saw Damon standing in the doorway.
"Mommy, Damon's here," Anthony said.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, every cell of her body humming with awareness. His thick, dark hair was rumpled, like he'd been running his fingers through it, and the skin of his face and his arms, left bare by the sleeves of his T-shirt was a shade darker as though he'd been out in the sun all day. In his jeans and work boots, he looked tough and rugged and so tempting, if it hadn't been for Anthony's presence, Ellie would have been hard pressed not to throw him down on the hallway floor. "I can see that. Hey," she said, suddenly aware of her sunbaked, windblown appearance, the ratty cut off shorts and stretched out tank top pulled on over her bikini.
"Hey yourself," Damon said with a funny little smile that widened as his eyes traveled down to her bare toes and back up again. Apparently he didn't mind her grubby appearance.
Just as he hadn't minded on those hot summer days all those years ago, when he'd pull her into his arms after a day spent at the pool. He'd never minded the coating of sunscreen and grit, her damp tangled hair. And the only concern he'd given to what she was wearing was how quickly he could get her out of it.
And she'd felt the exact same way about him.
Her body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with a day spent in the sun, her brain flooding with the memories of those hot summer days. Melding with more recent memories of hot summer nights.
Her gaze met his, and heat flared as though he was reading her thoughts.
"What are you doing here?" Anthony asked bluntly, jarring her from the inappropriate track her brain was taking.
Damon jerked a little too, shook his head as though to clear it, and grinned down at Anthony. "Your grandma sent me over. She said something's wrong with the washing machine." He tilted a questioning look at Ellie.
"Yeah, it keeps getting stuck in the middle of the cycle."
He nodded and followed her down the hall to the closet that held the stacked washer and dryer while Anthony trailed behind.
"Considering mom bought this thing when we moved in, we're lucky it still works," she said and switched on the washing machine so Damon could witness the problem.
He listened, his brow furrowing, even closing his eyes for a moment in concentration. Then he nodded abruptly and opened his eyes. "It sounds like a clog in the drain hose outlet. Shouldn't be too hard to fix," he said and started back down the hall.
"What's a drain hose outlet?" Anthony asked as he started to follow, his feet moving double time to keep up with Damon's long strides.
"It's the pipe that takes the water from the washer," Damon said patiently. "If it gets clogged, the water can't go anywhere, and the machine shuts itself off."
"How are you going to fix it?"
"Anthony, don't get in Damon's way," Ellie admonished. "I think we have another episode of Dinosaur Train on the DVR—"
"He won't get in my way," Damon said easily. "He can be my helper. Can you do that?"
Anthony nodded eagerly.
"First thing, help me carry in my tools, okay?"
"Okay!" Anthony shot down the hall and out the door so fast Damon had to jog to keep up with him.
"Let me know if he's too much of a pest," Ellie called, but Damon waved her off.
She retreated to the kitchen to cut Anthony's requested carrots and prepare the burgers. As she worked she could hear a mix of male voices, one high pitched and childish, one low and rumbling.
At one point she heard Damon laugh at something Anthony said and told herself the only reason her eyes were stinging was because of the onion she was slicing.
"All fixed," Damon said, his boots thudding on the linoleum floor while he wiped his hands on a rag.
"And I helped!" Anthony said as he darted around Damon. "I got to use a screwdriver and a—what was that thing called?" he asked Damon.
"A pipe wrench."
"A pipe wrench," Anthony parroted with a wide grin.
"He told me he'd never seen one before," Damon said as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands.
Ellie shrugged. "If anything ever happened to our apartment, the super took care of it while we were out. And Troy wasn't exactly into working with his hands."
There was a slight stiffening to Damon’s shoulders, his motions jerky as he dried his hands. When he turned around, his mouth was tight around the corners as his gaze drifted over her and Anthony, who was too busy sneaking a potato chip from the bowl she'd filled to notice the sudden tension between the grown-ups.
"Hello," her mother called out as she entered the door that led from the garage into the kitchen, her hands full of shopping bags.
"Let me get that for you," Damon said and sprang forward to take the bags from her hands.
"Thank you, dear. Just set them on the stairs. You get the washer fixed?"
"Yes ma'am," Damon called from the hallway. "And your grandson was a great little helper." He walked over to Anthony and gave his head an affectionate scrub.
"Good, you're teaching him some practical skills. Lord knows he never would have learned them from his father."
"Mom," Ellie said in a warning voice.
"Oh good, you're getting dinner started," Adele said as though Ellie hadn't spoken. "We were so busy we didn't have time to eat anything since breakfast, and I, for one, am famished."
"Well I better get going—" Damon started.
"You're staying for dinner," Adele said. "I insist."
He was going to refuse, Ellie could tell from the set of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders.
She felt a stab of hurt at the idea that he could sneak into her room in the middle of the night to fuck her, but he couldn't stand to share a meal with her.
Then she watched as his gaze drifted over to Anthony, and what she saw there shocked her. Not anger or resentment at the physical evidence that Ellie had chosen to marry a man so different from Damon in every way.
What she saw was sadness, mixed with a regret so profound she felt it calling to the very depths of her soul.
Was it possible that he still grieved for what they'd lost? For the dreams of a life, children of their own, that never came to be?
She didn't know what she could do—hell, if he even wanted her—to fix it.
All she knew was she desperately didn't want him to leave. Especially not with that look in his eyes.
"Yes, please stay," Ellie said. She reached out, hesitated, and put her hand on his hand.
His eyes met hers, searching.
"Please," she said, squeezing his hand. It was such a casual touch, nothing compared what they'd done to each other the night before. And yet, the way his fingers curled around hers, the slow warmth building in his eyes, felt more intimate than when he was naked and driving inside her.
"Okay," he said softly, dropping her hand with a smile.
Ellie smiled back as the sound of crunching caught her attention. She turned her head to see Anthony stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth.
His shoulders slumped, his entire body seeming to pout. "But I'm soooooo hungry."
"I'm going to light the grill," she said, “and dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes? That's like an hour!"
"No, it's like fifteen minutes," Ellie said, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.
"Come with me and let Nana show you what she bought today,” Adele said.
"I'm too hungry to 'preciate it," Anthony said, slumping dramatically against the counter.
"Don't," Ellie whispered as she saw Damon's lips start to quiver. But she was having trouble holding her own laughter back at Anthony's overwrought distress.
"Come on, buddy, why don't you show me that bike you were telling me about."
"OK!" Forgetting that he was on the verge of starvation, Anthony eagerly straightened up.
Ellie felt a little catch in her chest at the way Anthony trustingly tucked his little hand inside Damon's much bigger one. How many times had she imagined this scene, with a child she and Damon had together.
Her mother cleared her throat. Despite her knowing look, Adele didn't say anything about what was no doubt a longing look on Ellie's face. "I'm going to go change," Adele said. "You better go light the grill."
Ellie stepped out onto the back porch and saw that Anthony had already abandoned the bike, and he and Damon were passing a football she didn't even realize they had back and forth.
Well, actually Damon was passing, actually lobbing the ball to Anthony, who would scramble up and despite his best efforts fumble the ball to the grass. Then he'd fling the ball back in a wobbly orbit that bore no resemblance to a spiral but that Damon miraculously caught.
Smiling, she lifted the lid to her mother's ancient two burner gas grill, turned on the gas, and used a long lighter to ignite the flame. After a few moments, the flame sputtered and went out.
"Should have checked the propane," she muttered to herself. Since her mother so rarely cooked at home, she wasn't always on top of supplies.
But when she checked the canister it showed three quarters full.
Frowning, she lit the burners again, only to have the flames once again sputter out.
"You get it going?"
Ellie turned to her mom and saw that she'd poured herself and Ellie a glass of wine and had opened a beer for Damon.
"Something's wrong, the burners won't stay lit."
"Guess you'll have to pan fry them," Adele said and settled into an aluminum folding chair to watch her grandson play.
"What's the problem?" Damon, who was kneeling in front of Anthony to offer a bit of advice, had tuned into their conversation.
"Did you check the propane tank?" he asked after she explained the issue. "I'll take that as a yes," he said when Ellie shot him an arch look.
Within a few seconds he'd diagnosed the problem as a clogged gas line, the result of the grill not being cleaned for too many years.
"It's a good thing you keep the restaurant a lot cleaner than this," Ellie said, wrinkling her nose as Anthony, at Damon's direction, scraped years' worth of built up grill sludge from the pipes feeding the burners, "or else the health inspector would have closed you down years ago."
Adele shrugged. "Lucky for us we have a man around to fix things for us though, isn't it?"
Ellie met Damon's gaze over Anthony's dark head. "Yeah, it really is," she said.
"I tell you there's something so attractive, downright sexy, about a man who knows how to fix things," Adele continued and took a sip of her wine.
"Mom," Ellie warned, though she couldn't suppress a grin at the dark slashes of color that appeared on Damon's cheekbones.
"Seriously," Adele said, settling back in her lawn chair while Damon lit and tested both burners, pretending not to listen. "Your father drove me absolutely nuts, but one thing I always really appreciated about him was that he could fix anything. Plumbing, electrical, you name it. All he needed was a tool box and a power drill." She took another sip of wine, her gaze going wistful in a way Ellie rarely saw. "Of course, since he was gone so much there wasn't much opportunity for him to fix much," she concluded with the little touch of bitterness Ellie was used to hearing when her mother spoke about her father.
"Mommy's father lives in Arizona," Anthony told Damon matter-of-factly. "But I never met him."
Damon nodded, his gaze flicking to Ellie's as though he wasn't so sure how to pursue this conversation.
"I only got grandmas left," Anthony continued. "Nana and Grandmother Margaret. That's my dad's mom. She's still in New York."
"You must miss her," Damon said.
Anthony shrugged, staring mesmerized at the lighter in Damon's hand. "Not really. I don't think she likes me. Whenever I hugged her she always told me not to get her dirty."
"Of course she likes you—loves you," Ellie said quickly, though she'd secretly always had her suspicions. Just as Troy had always seemed to want Ellie to be something or someone she wasn't, his mother, Margaret, had always looked on Anthony, with his shoes full of sand and ketchup smears on his shirts, with a dismayed air.
Her heart squeezed at the idea that Anthony had picked up on it.
"Well I'm not afraid to hug you!" Adele surged out of her chair and pulled a squealing Anthony onto her lap. "I don't care if you're covered with mud like a little piggy!" She buried her face against Anthony's neck and made loud snorting sounds.
Damon's deep laughter echoed her own as Ellie listened to their breathless giggles.
Finally Anthony pushed away, breathless. He was silent for a couple of seconds, then, "Nana, what does sexy mean?"
For once Adele was at a loss for words as Ellie looked at her meaningfully, wondering how her mother was going to dig herself out of this one. She'd warned her several times already to be careful about what she said in front of Anthony, whose ears seemed especially attuned to adult matters or inappropriate words he had no business knowing about.
"I'll just go get the burgers," Adele said hastily, pushing Anthony gently from her lap as she rose.
"Come on, buddy," Damon said, clasping Anthony's shoulder as he steered him back to the lawn. "I bet by the time the cheeseburgers are done, you'll be able to throw a perfect spiral."
She watched, mesmerized as Damon patiently, endlessly, reminded Anthony to reach out and pull the ball to his chest. Leaned over him and covered Anthony's much smaller hand with his own as he showed him how to place his fingers over the laces.
"He's a natural," Adele said as she walked back outside, balancing the platter of burger patties on her hands.
"Are you kidding?" Ellie said as she watched the ball once again sail through Anthony's grasping hands. Unperturbed, he raced to the other side of the yard, hollering, "I got it!"
"He's enthusiastic, I'll give you that," she said, turning back to her mother. "But between me and Troy I don't think Anthony inherited any athletic genes."
"Not Anthony," her mother said exasperated. "Damon. Look at how good he is with him."
"Anthony's having a good time." Ellie said, busying herself by picking up the burgers and carefully laying them on the grill.
"So is Damon," Adele said.
Of course it was impossible not to notice Damon's grin, his happy shout when Anthony finally caught a ball. And her heart nearly exploded at Anthony's proud grin as he held the ball to his chest. "Mommy! I caught it! I caught a football!"
She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Anthony so happy—if ever. For all that they had given him access to the very best that New York city had to offer, Anthony had spent precious little time like this; throwing a ball, playing in the grass, being a boy.
"I always thought he'd make a great dad someday," Adele said.
I always thought so too, Ellie thought as she blinked against the sting of tears. How many times had she imagined what it would be like to have babies with Damon, to see him rocking their child i
n his big strong arms? Playing with them, teaching them to fix cars, fish.
Throw a football.
As she watched Damon and Anthony, it was so easy to get swept away by all the what ifs. What if they could get past what happened so long ago? What if they could figure out how to trust each other again and move forward together? What if Damon could step in as Anthony's father, maybe father more children of their own?
She gave herself a mental smack. Real smart, Ellie, to fantasize about a future with Damon when you can't even have a real conversation about what you're doing, where this might be going.
When you're such a coward, you can't ask because you're afraid he'll tell you his feelings haven't changed since that first night.
"I'm going to go wash this," she said abruptly and snatched up the platter. She soaped it and ran it under the hot water, and scrubbed her hands as well, taking a moment to compose herself.
She loaded the clean platter with buns and put it on a tray along with an array of condiments and a plate piled with sliced cheese and other burger fixings.
Her mother had settled back into the lawn chair and was watching Damon and Anthony chase each other around the yard, her own expression wistful.
"Your dad used to play with you like that," she said as Ellie went over to the grill to flip the burgers. "When you and Molly were little, he'd chase you around for hours until you all practically fell over."
Ellie froze in the act of flipping a burger. She thought back, struggling to remember any such thing. Then there was something, a hazy recollection of a day at the beach, her sister laughing, a deep male voice in the background. "I remember a beach?" she said carefully. Over the course of her childhood, she'd learned to be careful not to bring up her father in anything but the most neutral tones.
Though her mother made no bones about what kind of husband he'd been, she wouldn't stand for the girls badmouthing him.
On the other hand, if they put too positive a spin on life before the divorce, their mother was quick to remind them that he was hardly ever around, that she'd been the one to do virtually all of the child rearing and keeping the family going.
"When we lived in Virginia Beach. You were five and Molly was three. He would take you down to the beach and you'd build sandcastles and splash in the water till the sun went down."