Unexpected

by Karen Tuft

  He was teasing her, trying to get her to relax, she assumed, but his manner and close proximity were making her heart race. “The kids call me Bob. You’re not a kid, are you, Mr. McConnell?”

  “It’s Ross. And do I look like a kid to you?” At that moment, he pulled her in against his body and spun her around in a couple of tight turns. Then he kept her there and slowed his pace. “Why do they call you Bob? You promised you’d tell me sometime.”

  “I think I said ‘maybe.’”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure it was a promise.” He gave her a wicked half smile.

  Being so close to him felt warm and exciting and—surprisingly nice. And it was precisely those feelings that reminded her to stay on her guard. Her Bob story would provide a distraction, and she hoped it would give her time to get herself back on an even keel. “All right. It started when my son, Ryan, was a little boy.”

  Ross stopped dancing. “You have a son as well?”

  She’d forgotten he didn’t know about Ryan. “Yes. He’s on a mission right now.” She could see his mind at work, mentally assessing her and doing the age-related math.

  “You barely look old enough to have a daughter Emma’s age,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Where is he serving?” Ross asked.

  “Scotland. He’s been gone five months now.” She gave Ross a minute to absorb the revelation; it seemed to affect a lot of people this way when they learned about Ryan, so she should be used to it. She watched his face and could tell he made a conscious decision not to pry. It surprised and relieved her. She continued. “Anyway, when Ryan was a little boy, about seven, he caught a horrible cold. He was miserable. I can still see his sad little face: red, puffy eyes, goopy nose, and a cough that could blow the trade winds off course. Nothing seemed to help. I gave him medicine, but it didn’t ever work for very long. I would just get him to sleep and be helping the girls with something, and this hoarse little voice would croak, ‘Bob! Bob! I deed you.’” She smiled warmly at the memory. “After a few days, he started feeling better, but he still had that horrible stuffiness in his head. And he was so bored he was turning into a little tyrant. So I decided to talk to some of his friends’ moms and got a couple of them to allow their boys to come play for a while in the afternoon, despite the germs. We did a lot of hand washing that particular afternoon.”

  “I can imagine.”

  She continued. “Ryan would walk into the kitchen and say, ‘Bob, cad we have a dodut?’ ‘Bob, cad we play video gabes?’”

  Ross chuckled, and he spun her around again.

  Natalie smiled back at him. “The funny thing is, his friends started teasing him about it. They would come find me and say, ‘Bob, cad I have a dodut?’ too. Then my girls, who were quite little at the time—Callie was only a year—started to mimic him as well. Callie was just forming words, and she toddled around the house saying, ‘bob, bob, bob,’ at everything and everyone she saw. The boys thought it was hilarious, and it egged them on even more. By the end of the day, it had stuck. Now all my kids and their friends call me Bob.”

  Ross smiled at her. It was a gentle, amused smile, and it awakened a part of Natalie’s heart she hadn’t been sure even still existed. The side of Ross she’d seen tonight was such a contrast to the hard man who had regarded her humorlessly during the tap-dance fiasco. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. Ross was only being polite, nothing more. The silly dark knight business she’d created on a whim was a childish fantasy as fictional as Princess Pumpkinseed was.

  Ross interrupted her thoughts, murmurring, “What are you thinking?”

  She made herself look up at him. She couldn’t tell him what she’d really been thinking, that he was handsome and compelling, that she was attracted to him against her wishes and her better judgment, and that she knew she was so far from his ideal woman that it was pointless. So she said, “It seems only yesterday that my children were that little. It goes by so quickly, and then one day you wake up and realize those sweet years are past. You wish for them back. At the very least, you hope you have spent them well, with no regrets.”

  “Have you spent yours well?”

  “In some ways, I hope. I have three wonderful kids who are fairly well adjusted, all things considered. But I definitely have regrets.” She didn’t regret, would never regret, having her wonderful son Ryan in her life. But she definitely regretted the choices she’d made that had resulted in her becoming a teenage mother and tying her, at least temporarily, to a resentful teenage husband. She also regretted allowing her desire to give Ryan a daddy to blind her to the red flags in Wade’s character.

  “Everyone has regrets.”

  “I don’t think so. Not everyone. Not the really big regrets.” She paused, thoughtful. “I suppose every choice leads down a certain path, and that path leads to lessons learned. I believe I’m a stronger person because of what I’ve learned. Would I have learned them if I’d made different choices? Possibly. Who can say? I have definitely learned I need to be philosophical about it though. When my regrets weigh on me, I try to balance those feelings by remembering what I have learned. It helps, sometimes.” She paused again, embarrassed that she had rambled. She hadn’t realized they had stopped dancing. Neither of them moved for several moments. She wondered if Ross had regrets; it was obvious he wasn’t going to volunteer any. He probably didn’t. A man like Ross McConnell, smart and confident, knew and plotted every step along his illustrious and successful course in life. “The music stopped.” She began to pull away. “I should get back to work. Thank you for the dance.”

  Ross let her go. She could feel his eyes on her as she stooped to pick up the refreshment clutter. She was irritated at herself, and she felt depressed. She’d meant to move away from dangerous conversational territory when she’d talked about how fast time had gone by. Instead, she’d not only plunked herself smack-dab in the middle of a touchy subject, but she had also allowed things to get almost maudlin. And while she’d used brave words, touting lessons learned, she did have many regrets in her life, real, deep-seated regrets, and they plagued her daily. The first had been naively allowing Buck Jacobsen to charm her and take her innocence when she was barely seventeen. She understood now why she’d allowed it to happen and had taken full responsibility for her actions; that was part of the “lessons learned” mantra she told herself in difficult times. It had included a lot of soul searching and repenting. But that specific choice had also changed the course of her life and had led to other regrettable life choices. If someone had told her a decision made when she was so young and vulnerable would impact her for her entire lifetime, she wasn’t sure she would have believed them. She could preach the sermon eloquently now.

  Natalie returned to the kitchen and found Emma and Tess busily boxing up leftovers. Callie was nearly asleep at the table, just as Lexie had been just a few minutes ago. Natalie shook off her melancholy and pitched in. She needed to get them all home and into bed. Wade had allowed his girls to miss a Saturday with him for the sake of earning a little spending money. But he was picking them up early Sunday morning for the day, and Natalie had also forfeited her Thanksgiving with the girls as part of his hard-driven bargain.

  Yes, she thought, she definitely had regrets.

  Chapter 12

  Ross had fully intended to write checks for Natalie and her girls before they left the party, but Susan had cornered him before he got to it. By the time he’d been able to break away from her, she had grilled him about Ashley Howard, lectured him about his lack of contribution in preparing for the party (did his money count for nothing?), tried to firm up family plans for the upcoming holidays, and made him miss Natalie leaving.

  That conversation alone had been enough to give anyone a migraine. As it was, the conversation had followed what had been, for Ross, a trying event, however successfully it had turned out. He loved Suzie and appreciated her willingness to take up the reins when it came to family matters but wished she would adapt
her style and timing.

  Finally, her husband, Scott, found them and, throwing Ross a sympathetic look, tossed his arm affectionately around his wife and dragged her home.

  Since Ross was scheduled for a quick trip to Washington, D.C., the following week, he took a moment the next morning to write checks and left them on his kitchen table, knowing Natalie would find them Tuesday when she showed up to clean. He’d given each girl a generous amount and figured Natalie would kiss his feet when she saw the size of her check. She had two teenage daughters and a boy on a mission. Was this ex-husband of hers helping her at all? He had to be, Ross thought. But he thought again about what Kendra and her husband had said: He makes as much money as he does, and she is forced to do this.

  Well, at least this month she would have extra to put toward that mission fund, he hoped. He’d felt oddly disturbed by Natalie at the party. She’d worked hard all evening. She’d stayed busy, going from one helpful thing to the next. He’d been impressed by her impromptu sketches; he’d found himself amused at her blushes when he’d teased her about the apple-eating contest. In fact, their conversations had helped divert him from the pressure he’d felt playing host. But it had also seemed like every time he could tell she’d begun to relax, something would happen and she would vanish. Or worse, she’d distance herself emotionally from him.

  It was ironic, he thought. For nearly twenty years, women had used every ploy imaginable to pursue him. He wasn’t a fool—he knew he was a pretty good catch, all things considered. But the dating game had become tiresome and old. So here was a woman going to apparent great lengths to avoid him, and he was feeling put out. I must be perverse. I should be relieved and thanking her, he thought. Instead, he’d purposefully baited her, flirted in a way he hadn’t since high school. He had thought for sure her coy act would crumble when they’d danced. Instead, she’d grown serious, talking to him about regrets. It had been that conversation that had affected him the most. And then she’d vanished again.

  He could guess what those regrets of hers could be. She was divorced, her ex was obviously a clod of some kind, and that alone would lead to regret. But he’d looked closely at her when she had spoken of it, and she’d had a look of utter sadness. Sadness, resignation, but also resolve. Her eyes had darkened to nearly black when she’d been talking about having regrets and learning lessons. He wondered, really wondered, what depths she had experienced to warrant such a profound expression. And it had moved him. He’d experienced depths of his own.

  Ross decided that as long as he was on the East Coast, he would make a quick stop in New York. Gina and Monty were undoubtedly still enjoying the fine sights of San Francisco, and it was a great opportunity to get current on Engel Tech without Gina manipulating things to her advantage and his chagrin. It also gave him a chance to visit an old friend, his former bishop. That bishop, in addition to Bud Atwood, had helped him through the aftermath of Liz. Bishop Daynes, now just Neil to Ross, had been a compassionate spiritual leader at the time and was a close friend now. Ross seldom went to New York without seeing Neil, and he was a frequent guest for Sunday dinner at their home on those occasions.

  Ross pulled out his cell phone and quickly made the necessary changes to his airline schedule.

  * * *

  “Ross! Over here.” Neil Daynes waved Ross over to the corner booth, where he was seated at Levin’s, a popular deli located near Ross’s office. Ross was only going to be in New York for the day, and between both of their busy schedules, this brief lunch was all they could manage. Over the years, they had been regulars at this particular deli, so Neil had taken the liberty of ordering ahead for both of them. One never knew what the traffic from LaGuardia to downtown would be like, and with this visit, time was at a premium.

  Ross asked LaTaundra for a bottled water, shrugged out of his overcoat, and slid into the booth. LaTaundra didn’t exactly fit the profile one would normally expect of a deli employee, since she was African-American and Southern Baptist, to boot—definitely not a New Yorker or Jewish. But Wally Levin, proprietor of Levin’s, had admitted to Neil and Ross on more than one occasion that he’d grown fond of the way she hummed gospel hymns while she built sandwiches. He had recognized a great cook and dependable employee when she’d walked through his door from Tupelo, Mississippi, and the customers loved her. He’d been right on, Ross thought.

  “How’s your mother?” Neil asked.

  “She’s doing pretty well,” Ross said. “We just celebrated her sixty-fifth, actually. Big bash under the minimalist direction of my sister Susan. Don’t take it personally, but I think you were the only person in the Western Hemisphere who wasn’t invited. Blame me if you feel slighted.”

  “Sorry, old boy. I am horribly offended to have been snubbed. I would have hopped on the nearest plane if I’d known,” Neil said.

  “I’m afraid I bugged out on the planning end of the festivities, and Sister Suzie took it upon herself to invite everyone who’d ever been within ten feet of me since birth—everyone but those acquaintances who fall into the black hole known as New York City, which left you off the hook, by the way, except for the entire firm of Rogers, Goldman, et al. She actually managed to get old Monty Rogers and Gina to travel cross-continent to put in an appearance.”

  Neil chuckled. “Ah, the gorgeous Ms. Rogers. She certainly knows how to wage battles with tenacity and flair.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t laugh yet. That wasn’t the worst of it. I had to dance with her. I was expecting her to ram a stiletto between my ribs at the very same time she was whispering sweet nothings in my ear.”

  “I am always sadly struck that such beauty is truly only skin deep.”

  “Skin and silicone deep. Ah, here are the sandwiches. LaTaundra, your culinary talents are exceeded only by your singing abilities.”

  She settled the plates in front of them. “Humph. Always was more talk than action from the likes of you. Eat up now, hear?”

  Both men grinned at her retreating figure, a symphony of jiggle and jive.

  Ross regaled Neil with stories of the birthday party while they devoured their Reuben sandwiches and chips.

  “So your sisters are still intent on securing your eternal happiness, it seems,” Neil said around a bite of corned beef.

  “Oh yes.” Ross shrugged. “They mean well, I suppose, but Suzie goes after it like a fury and won’t let up. Although one of her introductions at least holds some potential.”

  “Oh?”

  “Branch manager of a bank, nearly has her master’s in finance, quite pretty, conversation was surprisingly good. I’ll be giving her a call when I get home. Nice girl.” Nice enough, Ross thought, and she had enough of the qualities on the list he’d given Suzie that he needed to take her out at least once so his sister wouldn’t out-and-out kill him.

  “Uh-huh.”

  LaTaundra returned at that moment. “You gentlemen fixin’ to put away some of my fine spicy apple pie à la mode this afternoon?”

  Both of the men groaned in unison and then both said yes.

  “I’ll go get that for y’all, then,” she said with a victorious look before heading to the dessert case.

  “How does she do that?” Neil mused. “Destroy all of my self-control with only two words: apple and pie?”

  “Janis is going to kill you,” Ross said. “You know she watches your diet like a hawk.”

  “Tell me about it. But what that woman right there”—he gestured at a humming LaTaundra, who was now settling mammoth portions of pie in front of each man—“can do with apples is downright magical and undoubtedly sinful.”

  She gave Neil a smug smile and sauntered off, humming.

  “Speaking of apples,” Ross said, “we had a little apple-eating contest at Mom’s birthday bash. And . . .” He gave a dramatic pause. “I’m sure you will be interested to learn there is actually a woman in the world who appears to be resistant to my manly charms.”

  “Obviously a woman of rare intelligence.” Neil too
k a huge forkful of spicy apple pie à la mode and nearly swooned. “Mmm, I think I died and went to heaven.”

  Ross chuckled and took a bite of pie himself and then closed his eyes in ecstasy. LaTaundra had definitely outdone herself. “I seem to have a talent for catching this woman at the worst possible moments. In fact, we started off on the wrong foot entirely. Literally. Since then, I’ve tried the standard approaches to see how she’ll react—but just when I think there may be a breakthrough and all the typical female reactions I’m expecting are about to emerge, she beats a hasty retreat.”

  “Typical female reactions,” Neil murmured as he took another bite of pie. “Not a very flattering description of the fairer sex.”

  “You know what I mean.” Ross forked up a big bite of pie. “At any rate, my enormous male ego has been taking a beating.”

  Neil paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and Ross suddenly felt uneasy. Maybe he had said too much, confessed to something he hadn’t intended.

  “Sounds like you’ve got a story to tell me here. What did it have to do with apples again?” Neil ate the bite of pie and followed it up with another forkful of ice cream.

  “Natalie, that’s her name, was helping with Mom’s birthday party. The kids were in the kitchen having the apple-eating contest. Not bobbing for apples, the apple-hanging-on-a-string kind.” Neil nodded in acknowledgment, so Ross continued. “She was the only adult participating. I happened to walk into the kitchen when the contest was in full swing.” Ross could still see her bright eyes twinkling with humor as she went after her apple. “Brett won, by the way,” he added.

  “Great young man.”

  “That he is. Then the kids carved pumpkins, and Natalie drew sketches of ideas for carving. They were good too. I left after that, but when I checked back a little while later, she was telling my niece a Halloween story. Brett told me later she’d made it up herself. Clever.” He’d been surprised and impressed. Housekeepers weren’t generally known for having artistic abilities or storymaking skills.