More Than She Expected

by Karen Templeton

  Lauren settled in the armchair and deftly unhooked her nursing bra, wincing slightly as Jonny eagerly latched on. Smiling down at her son, she sensed Gran lowering herself to the sofa a few feet away. As well as what was coming.

  “So what’s wrong?” her grandmother asked.

  Yeah. That. Calmly, Laurel swiveled her gaze to Gran, today swathed from neck to ankle in turquoise velour. With pristine white running shoes to go with. “Why do you think—?”

  “Like I haven’t seen that expression a few times in the past thirty-six years.”

  “I get this weird feeling when my milk lets down. That’s all. It passes.”

  “Yeah, well, unless your milk comes in every thirty seconds, I’m gonna say you’re lying through your teeth. And how come you haven’t mentioned Tyler once since I’ve been here?”

  On a tight little laugh, Laurel looked out the window again. “Man, you’re good.”

  “This, we know. So?”

  She rearranged the baby’s blanket. “He asked me to marry him.”

  There was actual silence. For about three seconds. “What? No, strike that. And?”

  “And, nothing. I turned him down.”

  “Because...?”

  “Because he’s not in love with me?”

  Another pause preceded, “But you’re in love with him.”

  A tiny smile pushed at her lips. “I loved Mom dearly. But damned if I’m going to emulate her.”

  “This isn’t the same situation. Not even remotely.”

  “True. Because Dad at least had a reason to marry Mom. Tyler doesn’t even have that.” She hesitated, then said, “We haven’t even kissed. Let alone done anything else.”

  “Hmm. Okay, so maybe a bit old-fashioned. But not unworkable. And it’s not as if you couldn’t, what do they call that? Do a trial run?”

  “Gran.”

  “What? You think I don’t know about this stuff? That your grandfather and I didn’t check out the goods before we plunked down the cash?”

  “And I so didn’t need to know that.”

  “Actually, considering your dilemma, I think you did.”

  Laurel sighed. “In any case...did Granddad ask you to marry him before you...plunked?”

  “Wouldn’t have plunked otherwise, cookie. That liberated, I wasn’t. But I also knew he was crazy about me. Just like I was about him.”

  “Well, there you are. Not that I don’t think there’s some serious crazy going on here, but not that kind of crazy.”

  “Then why did he ask you? If you believe he doesn’t love you—”

  “Not believe, Gran. Know.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “Very.”

  Gran’s lips scrunched together. “I don’t get it. I’ve seen the guy around you. And the baby,” she said, nodding toward the schlurping Jonny. “He’s obviously very fond of you both—”

  “Fond, yes. And he’s a good guy who sincerely wants to do good. To maybe right some wrongs in his own life. But that’s not a good enough foundation for a marriage—”

  “And there you go again, Miss Picky,” Gran said, pushing herself to her feet. “Honestly, child! The man asks you to marry him—a good man, like you said, someone who’s clearly nuts about Jonny—and you turn him down? Have you lost your freaking marbles?”

  “Already established that. Except believe it or not, this isn’t about me.”

  “Really.”

  “Fine, so not totally about me. But I do have a child to consider, who doesn’t need to go through what I did, watching a marriage die a slow, and very painful, death. And that’s what would happen, when Tyler eventually realized he’d made a mistake.”

  “So you can read the future now?”

  “No. But I’d like to think I’ve learned from the past. And you know what? Tyler doesn’t need to go through this, either. Especially since this isn’t what he wants, not really—it’s what he thinks he should do. For reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain, since I don’t live in his head. And if rejecting an offer I know is only going to cause pain down the road makes me picky...then I’ll have to live with that.”

  “For the rest of your life. Alone.”

  “Maybe so, Gran. And I’m as fully prepared to live with the consequences of that choice as I am with the consequences of this one,” she said, slightly hoisting the baby. “But what you don’t understand is...”

  Her eyes tearing, she glanced down at Jonny. “Despite what you might think, this isn’t about whether I think Tyler’s good enough for me. Because, trust me, he passed good enough ages ago. Not perfect, no. But then, who the hell wants perfect? Like I need the pressure to live up to that, right?”

  “Oh, sweetie...” Gran came and sat on the little ottoman in front of Laurel, laying a hand on her knee. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that Tyler doesn’t think he’s good enough. Which means I could love him, and trust him, and believe in him until the cows come home, but if he doesn’t believe in himself...” She shook her head. “Kinda hard to fix someone who thinks he’s permanently broken. Even if I could—”

  The doorbell rang. Gran frowned. “You expecting company?”

  “No. Probably somebody selling magazines. Or salvation. You can see out the corner of the window, though...”

  Groaning a little, Gran got up again and hobbled to the window, where her hand went to her throat. “Holy Toledo, you are not gonna believe this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Not what. Who.” Gran turned to her. “And I’m guessing he ain’t selling magazines.”

  * * *

  Tyler changed out the lightbulbs in Starla’s bedroom overhead as she made the sandwiches—roast beef on rye with her own horseradish sauce—then sat at her kitchen table when she called. Some old pine thing she’d scavenged from the curb after her neighbors moved out last winter, he remembered, then refinished. Same as she’d done with the brightly painted, mismatched chairs. In fact, nearly everything in the house had been rescued and repurposed...a trait he’d apparently inherited.

  And as they ate, they talked. Really talked for a change, instead of dancing around topics neither had wanted to deal with.

  Or rather, he really listened.

  And as he listened, he decided he might actually learn to like this woman he’d once loved, who’d caused him so much pain and confusion, whom he’d blamed for so long for his doubts and fears. The dull, dreamy gaze he remembered from his childhood was long gone, revealing an intelligence underneath the ditziness he’d refused to see. Much like what he’d seen in Laurel’s eyes from day one. The intelligence, that is, not the ditziness. The very thing that had most attracted him.

  That now made him want to finally get his head screwed on straight.

  “I’d met the Nobles, you know,” Starla said when they were halfway through their makeshift dinner, pouring him a glass of milk, then plunking a bag of SunChips between them before sitting back down. “And it was so obvious that they could give you a thousand times more than I ever could, sober or not. You have to believe that what I did, I did for you. Even...even when I barely had two non-doped-up brain cells to rub together, I loved you. What I wasn’t—or at least, didn’t feel at the time—was worthy of you. So I gave you to people who were. Simple as that. My mistake—and there were many—was thinking you’d understand.”

  With that, the last of the anger and resentment finally sloughed off as Tyler finally got himself out of the way enough to see the situation through his mother’s eyes...the eyes of someone who’d only been trying to make the best of things. For him, not herself.

  “I was ten,” he said gently.

  “I know, but...” She smiled. “You were such a smart kid, Ty. So smart it scared me sometimes, the way you’d
catch on about stuff that went right over my head. I loved you, but I didn’t know how to give you what you needed. Which I realized even more after I got clean than before.”

  Not sure what to say about that, Tyler leaned back in his chair. That huge cat of hers writhed around his calf under the table, making some bizarre sound more like a rusty spring than a meow. Distractedly he lowered his hand to meet the beast’s head bump, then said, “Why wouldn’t you tell me about my father? And I’m not asking that to find out about him—frankly, I no longer care—”

  “Really?”

  “Crazy, right? But it’s true. All that...it really doesn’t matter anymore. I had—have—a father. Even if I didn’t want to accept that,” he said with a smirk. “What I still want to know, though, is what was going on in your head.”

  “It’s really that important?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  After poking at her own sandwich for a moment, Starla said, “When you showed up at Costco, said who you were...” Her eyes lifted to his. “I thought I’d gotten a miracle. You wanting to connect again...it was far more than I expected. Than I deserved. Except I quickly figured out you had an ulterior motive, that what you really wanted was to find out about your father. And I was the only way that was going to happen.”

  The guilt screaming in her eyes only poked at his own. “And that didn’t bother you?”

  “Hell, yes, it cut me to shreds. But beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

  At that point, he was feeling a little shredded himself. “So...you deliberately didn’t answer my questions so I’d keep asking.”

  “Bingo. Because after all that time, I couldn’t bear losing you again. Not that I ever really had you. Obviously. And I’m not proud of that, that I deliberately kept the truth from you. Then again, I wasn’t proud of what the answer would have been, either, so my evasion was...multilayered, shall we say.” Frowning, Tyler stared at the remains of his sandwich for several moments until she said, “No comment?”

  He felt his mouth pull to one side. “We were playing each other, weren’t we?”

  “Guess so.” Then she said softly, “And you’ve got your frowny face on again.”

  An old memory stirred, of her saying that to him when he was little, making him smile. “Because...I don’t know. On some level I understand what you’re saying. But there’s still part of me that wonders if...if I’d been different, things would’ve turned out different.” At her puckered brow, he said, “If I hadn’t been too much for you to handle.”

  “Of course you were too much for me to handle! Because I couldn’t handle myself....” Then she gasped. “Oh, honey—you don’t think I started using because of you? Or that I gave you up...” Horror bloomed in her eyes. “Ohmygod, no! No. Now you listen to me...”

  His mother grabbed his hand again, holding on tight. “I was a mess because of my own choices, choices that controlled me instead of the other way around. You were the best little guy, as a baby. So...so patient with me, always smiling and laughing. But I was alone, and overwhelmed....” Tears glittered in her eyes. “If anything, you starting acting out because of me. Frankly I’m surprised—and grateful, believe me—that you didn’t get in worse trouble than you did. And when they found you wandering by yourself that night and took you away... You bet, I was relieved. But not for my sake. For yours. And then, after I got out of rehab...”

  Her lips pressed together. “I was scared, Ty. Scared I’d slip back into old habits. God knows I wanted to stay clean, but I wasn’t sure I could. And if I’d regained custody and screwed up again, I would have never forgiven myself. You weren’t a bad kid, Tyler. I was a bad mother.”

  His throat aching, Tyler cupped his hand over hers, clearly startling her. “A bad mother wouldn’t have made that kind of sacrifice. And I’m sorry it’s taken me twenty years to figure that out.”

  Her throat working overtime, she finally nodded, then got up to clear their plates, hauling a carton of vanilla ice cream out of her bottom freezer. “Still like hot fudge sundaes?” she asked.

  “You bet.”

  She pulled a jar of sauce and a can of whipped cream from the fridge, clunking the sauce into the microwave. As it whirred, she said, not looking at him, “I was eighteen. Your father was in his thirties. And married. His wife was pregnant. And yes, it was stupid... I was stupid for getting involved to begin with, for believing the promises...” Her mouth flattened. “He offered to pay for the abortion.” The microwave beeped. She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “I got all the way to the clinic, had even gone through the preliminary exam before...before I changed my mind.”

  Slowly, Tyler got up from the table, going to his mother and pulling her into his arms, rocking her against his chest for a while before saying, “Whatever happened to him, do you know?”

  Her hair tickled his chin as she shook her head.

  “Then screw ’im,” he said, and she softly laughed before pulling away to finish up their sundaes.

  “So what brought this all on, anyway?” she asked, handing him his dish of ice cream. When he didn’t respond, she said, “Unless it’s none of my business—”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s...” He returned to the table, poking his spoon into the gooey ice cream and sauce for a moment before looking at his mother. “It’s a whole bunch of stuff, I guess, all ganging up on me.”

  Starla smiled slightly. “And is Laurel part of that?”

  Tyler blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

  After spooning in a bite of her sundae, his mother said quietly, “She knows, doesn’t she? About me?”

  “Yeah. Now.”

  “So I guess you figured out she was baiting you? When you two gave me a ride the other day?”

  One side of his mouth pulled up. “Not until after she confronted me later, no. I mean, yeah, that conversation was doing a real number on my head. But I’m pretty good at not hearing what I don’t want to hear.”

  “Then maybe it’s time you got over that.”

  “Working on it,” he said, and his mother tipped her spoon at him. Then she stabbed at her ice cream again.

  “Is Jonny yours?”

  “No,” Tyler said on a dry laugh. “Laurel was pregnant when we met. Daddy’s not in the picture. And anyway, we haven’t...” He blushed. “We’re friends.”

  “But you’d like to be more.”

  It took a moment to find his voice. “Not that I have any idea if she feels the same way.”

  “Only one way to find out, right?”

  “Right,” Tyler said, then stood, leaning over to kiss his mother’s forehead. She looked up, startled—it was the first time he’d kissed her since he was little.

  And for the first time since then, he felt whole.

  Or at least, enough to risk making a damn fool of himself.

  * * *

  Pulling onto his street, Tyler frowned at the silver Lexus parked in front of Laurel’s house. Frowned harder when he passed and saw the out-of-state plates, felt his hair rise on the back of his neck. And right then, the only thing stronger than the fear that suddenly swamped him, was the anger.

  And let’s work with that, shall we?

  He parked the truck, his breathing ragged as he stood in the driveway, only half hearing Boomer’s mad whining and scratching from inside. Tyler almost felt like he was being physically held back from storming over to Laurel’s. But it definitely would not serve his purpose to go in with guns blazing like some idiot—

  Laurel’s door opened. And sure enough, a man emerged. Tallish. Thin. Definitely older, although it was hard to tell in the porch light. Tyler’s gut clenched when the man touched her arm, leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  He couldn’t hear what they were saying. Didn’t care.

  He waited until Laurel’s door closed to walk across the ya
rd, hand extended. “You must be Barry,” he said, and the man flinched.

  “Uh...yeah.” He ignored Tyler’s outstretched hand. “And you must be the neighbor. Tyler, is it?”

  Tyler withdrew his hand, slamming it into his jeans’ pocket. Better than where he wanted to slam it. “Yep. So I take it you came to your senses?”

  “Wow. You don’t pull any punches, do you?” Barry said, and Tyler thought, You should only know. “But I guess you could say I did. In fact—” he smiled “—I just asked Laurel to marry me.”

  A red haze turned the streetlamp the color of blood and Barry’s face into a devil’s mask. To think at one time Tyler’d actually volunteered to find this creep, make him own up to his responsibility. Now all he saw was a thief.

  “Man, you are one piece of work,” he said quietly, and Barry’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Excuse me—?”

  “You let her go through the whole pregnancy alone, didn’t even tell her where you freaking were, and now you waltz back into her life like some damn Prince Charming and ask her to marry you? Congratulations on winning the douchebucket of the year award—”

  “Now, hold on—”

  Tyler came closer in the damp grass, making the guy back up. “Where were you when she needed someone to paint the nursery? When she went into labor in the middle of the night and needed a ride to the hospital? Were you there when your son was born? Were you? Because I sure as hell don’t remember seeing you. And all those nights when the kid had colic so bad he’d cry for hours on end—were you there to walk him, to give Laurel some relief? Yeah. That’s right. You weren’t. And where the hell were you when Jonny...” To his extreme annoyance, his throat clogged. “When he smiled for the first time?”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Oh, believe me, I understand. I understand a helluva lot better than you have any idea.” His arms crossed over his chest. “So now what? You’ve had an epiphany or something? Or an attack of guilty conscience? So you think that by marrying Laurel you’ll make it all good?” He held up one hand. “And if she does, God knows that’s her decision. She loved you when you two made Jonny, so for all I know she still does. But as far as I’m concerned you’re—”