by Karen Young
“Yes, ma’am.” Cam did as told and sat down in the wicker chair.
“Kendall—”
“I’m almost done, Mom.” With all her attention focused on getting the perfect shot, Kendall carefully snapped several pictures. “Okay, that’s perfect. Thanks, Mr. Ford.” She flashed him a bright smile and dashed off with the cat at her heels.
“That cat must think he’s a dog,” Cam said, watching them.
“Graham,” Rachel said. “And sometimes I think the same thing.” She took a deep breath. “I apologize for both Nick and Kendall. I don’t know why they headed over here, but—” She brought herself up short. “Don’t worry, I’ll establish ground rules right away. I’m aware of your occupation and your need for absolute privacy. It won’t happen again.”
“Nick tells me Ted’s setting up a new practice,” he said, ignoring her tense little speech. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. When Walter got the news, he retaliated in the way it would hurt Ted the most.”
Her color heightened, but her gaze held. “Do you always say exactly what you think, Mr. Ford, no matter how intrusive or insensitive? Or is there something about me and my situation that brings out the worst in you? I think it’s obvious that my…our circumstances are changed,” she said stiffly. “I’ll leave it to the gossip mill in Rose Hill to fill you in on the details.” She turned to go.
“Did you get legal representation?”
She stopped, turned back. “Why, do you expect me to thank you for suggesting it? Yes, of course, I engaged a lawyer. I’m not an idiot. You can’t get a divorce without one.”
“Not a separation after all, huh? What happened to your belief that Ted was simply having a midlife crisis?”
“I still suspect it, but I’m not waiting around for him to get over it.”
He nodded slowly. “Ah, I think I hear a bit of good old-fashioned rage in your voice at last. Justifiable and about time, if you ask me.”
“That’s just it, Mr. Ford,” she said, her tone rich with disgust. “Nobody asked you.” Turning on her heel, she stalked off.
Cam watched her leave, as disgusted with himself as she was, even though he had every reason, because of Jack, to feel hostile toward her. But hell, there were a lot of people he should feel hostile to because of Jack, and he didn’t lose his cool when they crossed paths. Cara, for one. And he damn sure hadn’t forgiven his ex-wife for being more interested in her new lover than their son’s problems, but reminding her was like kicking a puppy. Her anguish over Jack was, like his, a permanent burden, while Rachel Forrester had simply put the death of a kid in her care in a closed file and got on with her life.
He looked over where she, her kids, Ward, her mother and the cat mingled amid the contents of the moving van. He didn’t want her living right next door, a bitter reminder of what he’d tried for five years to forget. He’d been in a dark, tormented place when he returned to Rose Hill, but with his work and the restoration of the old house, he’d managed to find a measure of peace. It was a matter of emotional survival to reject anything—or anybody—that screwed that up.
“Whoa, man, tell me about Jack. Was he in a car accident or something?” Accompanied by Eminem’s rap on the CD player, Nick was in the process of stowing gear in a chest of drawers. Now he straightened and met Ward’s eyes in the mirror above the chest. “And how come you knew about it and I didn’t?”
“Jack and Jimbo were real tight.” Ward shoved an empty suitcase under the bed and straightened up, dusting his hands. “So Jimbo was a pallbearer at the funeral. It was real sad, man.”
“Jeez…”
“Yeah, but you don’t know the worst part yet. It was no car accident. Jack committed suicide.”
Nick’s eyes went round with surprise. “So that was…what, a few years ago? How long?”
Ward shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like I was in the fourth or fifth grade.”
Which meant Nick had been about ten or eleven years old. “I think I remember it,” he said, frowning. “My mom was real upset that this student had died. I recall it, because we were here at Gran’s house and Mom was crying. She never did that, so it kinda made an impression, you know?” He went quiet, thinking what a shock it would be if something like that happened to one of his friends and how much worse it would be if it were a close friend, someone like Ward, for instance. “So Jimbo took it real hard, huh?”
“Yeah. Even though Jack hadn’t been at Rose Hill very long, him and Jimbo were, like, best friends.” Ward frowned, thinking back. “I think Jack and his mom moved here because his folks got a divorce. Transferred from New York and Mr. Ford—Cam—stayed there. Jimbo said Jack was pretty messed up at first, but he seemed to settle in after a while, especially when he started playing ball.” Ward watched Nick move to the CD player and pop out Eminem. “Probably helped a lot that he was so good he started out the next year playing varsity ball. Coach Monk really liked him. He would have snagged a scholarship like Jimbo, without a doubt. But…well…” Ward shrugged. “He ended it with a rope.”
Nick winced, the CD in his hand forgotten. “Oh, man, you mean he hung himself?”
“Yeah. It was in a hotel when the team was playing-off somewhere. Anyway, he was supposed to share a room with Jimbo, but he never showed up that night. They found him in a room that was unoccupied, like he wanted to do it but didn’t want Jimbo to find him. Weird, you know? Jimbo was all broken up. Lucky for him that my folks were there for the game, because it was my dad who told him about Jack. He hadn’t cried since he broke his collarbone in seventh grade playing soccer, but he sure cried when he heard about Jack.” Ward sat on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, and stared at his feet. “I’ll never forget it.”
There was silence in the room as both boys struggled with the unthinkable. Suicide happened, but never to someone you knew. It was, like, old people who did that. Or druggies. Or folks who were mental. Nick finally pegged something about Cameron Ford that he’d sensed. He hadn’t actually put it into words, but he’d felt from their first meeting that there was something kind of dark about him. Something buried deep, and it made him sort of…unreachable. Dropping his gaze to the CD in his hand, he studied the label without really seeing it. No wonder. You would feel pretty dark and deep, Nick decided, if your kid killed himself.
Rachel waited until nightfall to call the family conference. They’d unloaded and placed their stuff where it belonged in her mother’s house, although it would be several days—if not weeks—before everything was neat enough to ease her concern over invading Dinah’s privacy.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Rachel? I’m more than happy to have you and the kids staying here.” Dinah opened the pizza box and set it in the middle of the table. “We both know it’s temporary. Stop beating up on yourself. You didn’t choose this situation, but it’s happened. Luckily, I’m in a position to help. Try thinking of it as being a bit easier on Nick and Kendy rather than you renting an apartment where people don’t bother to say hi even if they live in the adjoining unit.”
“You’re not telling me your neighbor is a warm-and-fuzzy, friendly type, are you?”
“Who, Cameron? Underneath that gruff exterior, he’s a pussycat.”
Rachel, in the act of filling glasses with lemonade, made a sputtering sound. “I’ve already had a run-in with him, Mom. He was insufferably rude.”
“Rude or blunt?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Quite a bit.”
“Whatever, I’m going to have the kids steer clear of him.”
“Which is definitely overreacting.” Dinah took a stack of paper plates from the cupboard. “We know why he’s testy around you, Rachel, but he’s hardly going to take it out on your children.”
“Right, because I’m not giving him a chance. I’m establishing ground rules as of tonight. I don’t want them bothering him.” She walked to the doorway leading to the bedrooms and called out, “Nick, Kendall, take a break! Pizza’s here.”
Kendall responded promptly. She inspected the contents of the box on the table and wrinkled her nose. “I wanted a Happy Meal,” she said, poking out her bottom lip.
Rachel took a look at her grimy hands. “Go wash up,” she said as she mixed the ingredients for a salad. “And tell your brother he’s keeping others from eating dinner by holing up in his room. Tell Ward he’s welcome to stay and eat with us, too.”
“He’s gone. His mom called,” Kendall said. “And I don’t want to talk to Nick. He hollered at me when I just asked if he knew where my Dixie Chicks CD was. He’s in a bad mood.”
“Aren’t we all?” Rachel muttered, once her daughter was out of earshot.
“It’s a difficult time,” Dinah said sympathetically. “I’ll go get him.”
Rachel nodded mutely and felt a rush of gratitude mixed with bone-deep fatigue. Her mother had been an angel, going far beyond generosity in opening her house to her family. Before they arrived—and without consulting Rachel—Dinah had cleared the three bedrooms they would occupy, leaving nothing but the essentials, bed, dresser, chest, which left room for the kids’ personal belongings. She’d insisted that Nick and Kendall would feel less uprooted if they were surrounded by their own things. Most of the furniture from the other house had, of necessity, gone into storage.
“Here we are,” Dinah said, urging a surly-faced Nick into the kitchen. “I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m famished.”
“I need to get my stuff unpacked,” Nick said, dropping into a chair only when Dinah put a hand on his shoulder. “I can always eat later.”
And avoid his family, Rachel thought with a pang. The effect of his life being in upheaval was telling on Nick. He’d been acting out lately, staying in his room, missing meals, ignoring his curfew. She knew where his rebelliousness came from, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
“You can eat later if you want, Nick,” she said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “But there are some ground rules to be established, now that we’re going to be living here with Gran.”
“Gimme a break, Mom. Save the lecture about keeping my room clean and picking up after myself. You gave it already.”
“I want to hear you say you’ll do it, Nick.”
“What do you think I am, a total jerk? I’m gonna do it.” He flicked at a crumb on the table. “Jeez…”
“I’m also counting on your basic good manners, so watch your mouth. The least we can do in appreciation of Gran’s hospitality is to behave with common courtesy.”
“So, what’s the deal with the family conference?” he asked. “That is, what’s left of our family.”
Rachel counted to ten. “This is about Gran’s next-door neighbor.”
“Who, Cam?”
“Mr. Ford?” Kendall echoed, slipping into her chair.
“Yes, Mr. Ford.” Rachel rested her folded hands on the table. “Do not go over there without an invitation. Do not trespass on his property for any reason. Kendy, keep Graham away from there. He’s probably the type to complain about cats pooping in his flower beds. I don’t want any complaints from him that my children are a nuisance.”
Nick eyed her with instant suspicion. “Did he tell you we were bugging him?”
“No, but I don’t want to give him a chance to make a formal complaint.”
Nick, slouched low in his chair, made a disgusted sound. “He’s an okay guy, Mom.”
“He’s an extremely private individual,” she argued. “His work requires absolute solitude. I don’t want to warn either of you again to keep your distance.”
“Is the lecture finished?” Nick’s fingers drummed on the table while he gazed with boredom at nothing in particular. “Can I go now?”
She looked at him in silence, then waved a hand in dismissal. “Go,” she said wearily.
Nine
By the end of the month, they were settled in at Dinah’s house, more or less. Kendall seemed to take to their new digs with little fuss, but Nick was increasingly surly and withdrawn. In spite of Dinah’s attempts to reassure her, Rachel felt obliged to say often and apologetically that their stay was strictly temporary, and that as soon as she could manage it, she’d get a place of her own. Both knew that before Rachel could do anything, Ted and his ex-partners first had to settle the division of assets in the practice, and that would come only after a lengthy legal battle. Still, she worried over her mother’s loss of privacy.
That would not be a problem for the next two days, Rachel thought one Saturday morning as she poured orange juice and went in search of Dinah. Nick and Kendall had been picked up last night by Ted to spend the entire weekend with him at the lake house. Their plan, as she understood it, was to head out early today for the rodeo in Fort Worth. Ted’s change of heart surprised her, but it was more than welcome. Forever, it seemed, he’d been deaf to Rachel’s pleas that he needed to pay more attention to Nick and Kendy. Since their separation, he hadn’t spent more than a couple of hours at one time with his children, never for an overnight visit. Mostly, he picked them up for a quick fast-food meal on a school night, which meant he was forced to drop them off at an early hour, thus freeing him for weekends with Francine.
Guessing that Dinah was outside, Rachel headed for the backyard and found her in the greenhouse repotting African violets. She stood for a minute watching as Dinah snipped and pinched at the delicate tropicals, readying them for transplanting. Her hands were grubby with soil, as she never wore gloves. She said she preferred to feel plants as she handled them. Her frizzy hair was parted in the middle and haphazardly confined in scrunches that Rachel recognized as belonging to Kendall. The old flannel shirt worn over ragtag jeans she also recognized as belonging to her father. As Dinah worked, a stray curl fell into her line of vision and she gave it an impatient swipe, leaving a smudge on her cheek. Her mother might look disreputable, but there was nothing careless in the way she worked. Her face was intent as she set the African violets into soil she’d specifically formulated herself.
Rachel stepped into the close, humid confines of the greenhouse. She didn’t share her mother’s passion for gardening, but there was something soothing about Dinah’s lively green world, carefully tended and heavy with fragrance. “I thought I’d find you here,” Rachel said, looking around for a place reasonably free of grit and grime to set the orange juice. “Did you take time for breakfast?”
“No, but I’ll break soon and have something, so don’t nag.”
“No nagging, but only if you drink this,” Rachel said, offering the juice. She could see Dinah was tempted to refuse. “Don’t even think it, Mom. You promised not to skip breakfast. That is why your blood sugar is—”
“Just fine, otherwise I’d be dizzy. And you are nagging.” But Dinah took the glass after rubbing some of the grime from her hands on her shirttails and gulped it down as if it were medicine. Finished, she gave another futile swipe at her unruly hair and suddenly noticed Rachel’s outfit. “Hmm, that’s something new, isn’t it? And you look terrific in that color.”
“Thanks.” Rachel glanced down at the turquoise pants matched with a tunic-length sweater of the same color. “I bought it on sale yesterday. I can’t really afford to do any shopping, but—”
“But you finally noticed there’s room for you and someone else in most of your clothes lately.” Dinah hitched up her sagging jeans while giving Rachel a keen look. “How much weight have you lost?”
“Not too much, so get that look off your face. I needed to lose a few pounds.”
“You didn’t, but I don’t suppose you’ll believe me.” She handed the empty juice glass back to Rachel and, turning, lifted a flat with four newly planted pots and led the way toward the door of the greenhouse. “C’mon, let’s go to the patio and find a sunny place for these herbs. I don’t think we’ll have another frost, do you?”
Rachel hastily set the glasses down. “Here, let me carry that, Mom.”
“No, no, you bring the glasses.
I can manage this. You might get something on that nice outfit.” Hanging on to the flat, Dinah left the greenhouse and headed up the winding path toward the house, giving Rachel no choice but to follow. The yard was alive with color and displays of Dinah’s green thumb. In this climate zone, it was possible to have blooming plants almost all year round except in the coldest winter months, and she took full advantage of it. Hot-pink azaleas and bright white bridal wreath at the fence line formed the backdrop for a riot of colorful annuals, as well as pink snapdragons, purple and yellow pansies and bright red petunias. Her handiwork was truly a feast for the eyes.
At the patio, she set the herbs on a plant stand partially protected from unexpected chill and stood back, dusting soil from her hands. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really missing those kids,” she said.
“That’s hard to believe.” Rachel sat on the porch swing, using one foot to push herself gently. “Kendy’s okay, but Nick has been so difficult lately that you must have been glad to see him go, Mom. I just wish that—”
“If wishes were gold, we’d all be rich.” Dinah blew at a stray curl dangling over one eye. “Nick is simply reacting to Ted’s neglect. How could it be anything but hurtful and bewildering to see his dad lavishing most of his time and attention on a woman?”
“They do miss him,” Rachel said, “even though he was never particularly attentive. That’s why it’s such an unexpected treat to have him to themselves for a whole weekend. Hopefully it’ll work a miracle on Nick, so that by the time he gets home, his attitude will have improved.”
“What time did he get in the other night?”
“It was late.”
Dinah gave a sigh. And because Rachel didn’t want her mother worrying, she didn’t tell her that it had been past 1:00 a.m. when Nick finally came home. Rachel had been on the point of going out to search for him, but where? One look and she knew he’d been drinking, but he’d refused to tell her anything except that he’d been with his friends and they’d just been “hanging out.” Not with Ward. She’d called the Rivers’, pulling Dan, Ward’s dad, out of a dead sleep. But Nick hadn’t been drunk, which she supposed was a good thing. Still, the fact that he was even experimenting with alcohol was unacceptable. She planned to have a talk with Ted about it, but had decided it could wait until they returned from what she hoped would be a fun weekend.