His Ordinary Life

by Linda Winfree

  “You know, I hate when you do that.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. The dimple in his cheek deepened as he talked. At one time, that little dent had been her favorite place to drop a kiss.

  She pulled her thoughts back to the present and stacked sticky forks on syrup-drenched plates. “Do what?”

  “Look at him like he’s freakin’ Superman. He’s human, too.”

  “Shouldn’t we be talking about what we’re going to do about our son rather than how I look at your brother?” Silverware clattered into the dishwasher basket and heat touched her cheeks. Lord, he hadn’t heard those rumors, had he? She straightened to face him.

  “You’re right.” He rocked back on his heels. Dark strands of his mussed hair fell over his forehead. “We need a plan.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Obviously talking to him didn’t work.”

  He grimaced. “It wasn’t exactly a productive conversation.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Took his keys. Grounded him. Sent him to his room.”

  “Did he say where he’d been?”

  “No.” He paused. “Whatever it was, I don’t think it was fun, though. He’s…tense.”

  She tightened the self-embrace. “What’s going on, Del? What are we missing?”

  “I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”

  Grim determination filled his voice and Barbara darted an inquiring glance at him. “You’re not going back today?”

  “I’m not going back until this is straightened out. Until he’s straightened out. I can get Perry to cover my clients, I’m through with the training courses and I’ve got plenty of vacation time coming. I’ll spend some time with him—”

  “You can’t really believe that’ll work, can you?” The bitterness crowded in. Of course, she was doing everything wrong and Del would fix all simply by hanging out with Blake. Maybe if he hadn’t left, they wouldn’t be dealing with this.

  “Believe what?”

  “That you can just walk back in and fix everything.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s my son, Barb. I can’t abandon him.”

  The words fell between them.

  You’re not touching that one, Barb. You’re a better person.

  “Mama.” Clad in jeans and a white undershirt, Blake appeared in the doorway, eyebrows lowered in his perpetual scowl. “Have you seen my blue buttondown?”

  “Is it in your closet?”

  “No.”

  “Did you put it in the hamper the last time you wore it?”

  His bottom lip thinned. “I don’t remember.”

  “If it didn’t make it into the hamper, I haven’t seen it. Look under your bed.”

  Muttering, he stalked down the hall. Barbara sighed and called after him, “And if it’s dirty, don’t wear it.”

  A door slammed in reply.

  “I’m going to have a word with that boy—”

  “Think this one will be more successful?” She reached to turn off the coffeemaker. “Let him calm down.”

  “At this rate, he’ll have kids of his own by then.” His head jerked up. “Do you think it’s a girl?”

  “No. It’s still all sports, all the time. Besides, he’s too young to be serious.”

  “So were we. It didn’t stop us.” Their gazes met and Barbara glanced at her watch, trying to banish the memories his words invoked. Cool spring and warm summer nights, bare skin, breathless kisses, the treasure of his inexperienced lovemaking, a time when the love between them had been pure and untested.

  She brushed her bangs behind her ear, still not looking at him. “Lord, look at the time. We’ll be late. Girls! Time to get dressed.”

  She escaped from the kitchen and buried herself in the minutiae of morning routine. And through it all—hurrying the girls to get dressed, gathering her things, making sure each child had their bags in order—Del’s presence hovered, reminding her of what used to be.

  As always, they were five minutes late leaving the house. Del moved his car from the drive and walked back up the driveway. Lyssa clung to his hand, her brightest grin lighting her face, and Barbara held her breath at the hope in that look.

  “Daddy, you’re not going back to Atlanta, are you?”

  He glanced at Blake. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

  “Mama has tutoring and meetings on Tuesday,” Anna said, her smile shy and sweet. “Uncle Tick usually takes us to the gym. Will you take us instead?”

  “I sure will.”

  Chattering, the girls clambered into the 4-Runner’s backseat. Blake slouched in the passenger seat, picking at his thumbnail. Barbara combed through her purse for her keys, a rope of tension gripping her neck. “Oh, no, where are they?”

  Metal jingled. “You left them on the counter. I picked them up on the way out. You had your hands full.”

  Barbara reached for the key ring dangling from Del’s forefinger. “Thanks.”

  She set her purse and bag in the truck, her mind already shifting into teacher mode, planning for the day’s classes. The soothing routine of trying to stay one step ahead served as a welcome distraction to her angry teenager simmering in the front seat and the confusion of having Del around.

  Del rested a hand on the roof. “Have Blake come to your room after school. I want to talk to him, and I’ll pick him up then get the girls.”

  “Sounds great.” Eyeing her watch and mentally preparing to deal with her rowdy first period, she leaned toward him, mouth raised for the casual kiss they’d shared so many other mornings as they parted in the driveway. His eyes widened, his gaze dropped to her lips and reality slammed into her.

  What was she doing? They weren’t together anymore. She laughed nervously and backed away. The crisp scent of his aftershave lingered in her nose. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  He continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll see you this afternoon.” She climbed behind the wheel. When she started the truck, Blake reached for the radio controls and soon Staind’s latest hit blared. She backed down the driveway, aware Del stood watching until they were out of sight.

  *

  The memory of that almost-kiss stayed with Del all day. The image of Barbara’s upturned face lingered while he made arrangements to cover his sales calls, rented an SUV with more room than his temporary car, and checked in with his mother. The thing that got him the most was the level of hunger he felt for that simple goodbye kiss. Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of having her lean toward him, he’d wanted that kiss the way a desert-stranded man craved water.

  He still wanted it, and as he pulled into the school’s parking lot a little before four, an eagerness to be in Barbara’s presence tempered his concern for Blake.

  God, he was just asking to get kicked in the gut. This morning had been habit and didn’t mean anything. She didn’t want him anymore, had made that more than clear when he’d moved out, and if he indulged in building fantasies out of the interlude, he deserved whatever heartache he got.

  When he stepped from the rented Explorer, the humid heat blasted him, stealing his breath for a moment. Cars still filled the parking lot in front of the high school, but he’d been lucky enough to find an empty spot near the back row. On the large grassy field next to the building, the marching band practiced formations, red and silver flags spinning and twirling to the school fight song. Farther back, helmets clattered and a coach’s whistle shrilled.

  Spring football practice. In the May sun, under pads and practice jerseys, the heat would be unbearable. His junior year, he’d passed out after a set of up-downs and opened his eyes to the pale, frightened faces of Tick and their younger brother Will. His senior year, with Tick away at UGA and Will gone, he hadn’t played. He’d drifted, ignoring his teachers, separating from his family. Until Barbara, his life preserver in the dangerous waters his life had become.

  Blake was in his own version of those dangerous waters. Kids didn’
t just change overnight without reason. Somehow, he’d get to the bottom of whatever was going on. Somehow, he’d be his son’s life preserver.

  Del pulled the glass door open and stepped into the blessed cool air of the school lobby. The raw scent of fresh floor wax hovered in the air. The auditorium doors stood open, and out drifted the strident voice of Mrs. Louella Hatcher, who’d taught drama and English as far back as Del could remember. Several students sat in a circle in the lobby, strumming guitars and breaking into laughter with every wrong chord.

  He walked into the office, not looking at the memoriam board to see if Will’s freshman photo was still posted.

  “Can I help you?” The blonde secretary looked up and graced him with a perky smile. Recognition dawned in her blue eyes and the smile slipped. “Let me guess. You must be Blake’s daddy.”

  With the chill in her eyes now, either Blake had copped an attitude with her, Barbara had given her the details of the separation, or she was one of Tick’s string of ex-blondes and he was guilty by association. He smiled his best salesman’s smile. “Yes, ma’am. It shows, huh?”

  Her mouth tightened. “I guess it’s true all the Calvert men look alike.”

  Definitely one of Tick’s blondes, and one not happy about the ex status, either. Funny how nobody ever made an issue out of his brother’s date ’em and dump ’em habit. He upped the wattage on his smile as if dealing with a particularly recalcitrant client. “I’m supposed to pick him up today. I need a visitor’s pass for Barb’s room, please.”

  “Room 704.” The temperature in that smile dropped another ten degrees. Yeah, she had details. Bet he was the biggest bastard to ever grace Chandler County, Georgia. “Take a left on the 200 hall, then a right on the 700. Second room on the left.”

  He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Thanks.”

  The school had expanded since he’d been a student. The 200 hall had been the A hall during his high school years. The lockers remained the same, a sea of blue against the creamy walls. Nostalgia nudging at his mind, he let his fingers drift over number 237. Lord, no telling how many times he’d waited at this locker for a glimpse of Barbara’s shining hair in the throng.

  He passed the 300 hall and nodded at a pair of teachers walking laps in the corridors, their white athletic shoes a sharp contrast to the professional attire they wore. At the end of the 500 hall, a glimpse of familiar blue fabric caught his eye and he paused, eyes narrowed at the scene before him.

  At his open locker, Blake stood with two other boys, a year or so older, a little taller, slightly heavier. One of them talked, thumbs hooked in the back pockets of his worn jeans. Blake didn’t look at him, staring into the recesses of his locker, his jaw set. The other boy stood, arms crossed over his chest, his expression smug and calculated.

  Blake’s fingers clutched the locker door in a white-knuckled grip. Tension tightened every line of his body. He looked wary, angry, resentful.

  Cornered.

  Protective instincts urged Del to go to his son. Intimate acquaintance with male pride bade him stay where he was. Instead, he adopted a relaxed pose and kept his voice casual when he spoke. “Blake, you about ready to go? Boy, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  All three boys turned startled faces in his direction. Frustration glinted in the eyes of the two older boys; relief showed plainly on Blake’s face for a moment before disappearing behind his sullen mask.

  Blake shouldered his backpack and slammed the locker door. “That’s my dad. I gotta go.”

  When Blake joined him at the corridor junction, Del rested a hand on his shoulder. “What was that all about?”

  “Nothing.” Blake shrugged off the touch.

  “You sure? Didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Huh.”

  “Have you been to your mom’s room yet?”

  “No.”

  Del resisted asking if he could formulate a complete sentence. “Come on, let’s check in with her before we go.”

  The familiarity surrounded him again when he turned onto the 700 hall, the former D hall. Years ago, room 704 had been D-2, lair of the crustiest, most crotchety English teacher to ever draw breath in the state of Georgia, Mrs. Evelyn Adkins. She’d taught all four of the Calvert boys—adored Tick, tolerated Del, mourned Will and liked Chuck.

  The elderly woman had loved and mentored Barbara, fostering her love of literature and words. When Del, lost in a fog of grief and guilt, failed the first semester of senior English, she’d arranged for Barbara to tutor him. He’d found salvation in the situation and ended up ruining Barbara’s life.

  Mrs. Adkins had never forgiven him.

  With all of that swirling in his mind and mingling with his concern for Blake, he pushed open the partially open classroom door, almost expecting to see Mrs. Adkins’s black-and-white posters of classic authors gracing the walls in precise rows. The color attacked him first, the bright turquoise paper on the bulletin boards, the gaily colored posters with grammar and classroom rules, signs labeling supply and conference areas. Desks arranged in groups sat like islands awaiting inhabitants. The sweet, spicy scent of Barbara’s favorite potpourri washed over him.

  He glanced toward the back of the room, where he and Barbara had pulled desks together during his tutoring sessions seventeen years before. He’d stolen his first kiss with her under the sunshine spilling in through that tall, narrow window.

  Her teacher’s desk sat near that same corner. Sunlight picked out the gold and platinum highlights in her blonde tresses, her head bent over the papers on her desk.

  She wasn’t alone. A tall man, his rusty hair lit by the sun as well, leaned over her, a hand on the papers before her, a smile curving his mouth. His stance spoke of male interest. Raw, primal jealousy flooded Del’s chest.

  “I don’t know.” Barbara laughed and tucked her long bangs behind her ear. Her silver teardrop earrings swung in a lazy arc. “I thought I entered them all correctly. Maybe I didn’t save them? I had this problem last grading period, too, remember?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a small problem. You’re a great teacher, Barb. You’re a natural. And don’t let the technology scare you. Once you get the hang of it, getting grades done will take no time at all.”

  “So why are all my averages off?”

  “Because you didn’t weight the scores. See this column?”

  The burn of jealousy scalding Del’s throat didn’t let up and Barbara’s pleased, genuine smile only made it worse. Blake dropped his bag on a student desktop with a bang, and both Barbara and the man looked up. Irritation flashed across his face at the interruption, and Del narrowed his eyes, meeting the other man’s gaze.

  Blake slumped into another desk. Del didn’t move, staring at the guy hovering over his wife. Okay, soon-to-be ex-wife, but still his wife for the moment.

  “You’re here. Del, this is Brian Rawlings, our journalism teacher.” Barbara rose, forcing Rawlings to move away. “Brian, Blake’s father, Del Calvert.”

  Rawlings moved forward to shake Del’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

  “You too.” Del tightened his grip a little more than he would for a business handshake.

  “Blake.” Rawlings nodded toward the teenager, and Blake slumped lower. He thumped his thumb on the wood, eyes downcast.

  Barbara closed the grade book and tossed it in her bag. “I’ll take a look at this and talk to you about it later, Brian.”

  Clearly aware he was being dismissed and just as clearly unhappy about it, Rawlings nodded. “Sure.”

  Barbara waited until Rawlings left to turn to Blake. “When an adult speaks to you, I expect you to respond in a respectful manner. Is that understood?”

  “Yeah,” Blake mumbled, his gaze on his shoes.

  Del nudged his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  Blake looked up, his jaw taut. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The girls will be waiting.” Barbara picked up a legal pad and a pen. “I have a department meeting, then tutoring until f
ive-thirty. I should be home around six.”

  Bet Rawlings would be in that department meeting too. “We’ll be there.”

  Barbara glanced at him on her way to the door, her eyes cool. “Are you still staying for dinner?”

  He nodded. “If you want me to.”

  She cast a look at the back of Blake’s head. “It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

  “Sounds good. Blake, you ready to go?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Just get your stuff and come on.”

  Del held the door for Barbara. The soft, subtle scent of her perfume teased his senses as she passed into the hallway. She looked up at him, unsmiling. “I’ll see you later then.”

  “Yeah.” He stared at her, the memory of that almost-kiss flaring once more. The urge to tug her into his arms and brush his mouth against hers threatened to overwhelm him. Lord, he could feel the perfect fit of her curves against him, her softness fitting to the hard planes of his body. He shook himself back to reality. Those days were long gone. “Need me to pick up anything for you?”

  “You know, that would be…” The words trailed away. She shook her head and glanced at her watch again. “No, thanks. I’ve got to go.”

  Del watched her walk away, the loose capris caressing her thighs and hips with each step. A sharp twinge of arousal tugged at his lower abdomen before being swallowed in a wave of confusion. She couldn’t even let him do something as simple as pick up groceries she might need? She wanted to be that separate from him.

  Beside him, Blake shifted his backpack to his other arm. “Are we going?”

  “Yeah.” Del kept his gaze on Barbara until she disappeared around the corner. “We’re going.”

  Chapter Three

  The pounding pulse of eighties rock music provided a background for a rousing chorus of ki-yahs. Del lounged on the metal bleachers inside the cheer gym and watched Anna’s karate class move through a series of kicks and punches. He grinned. She wore the same look of determined concentration he’d seen on her face when she’d begun to toddle and tried to conquer the stairs at his mother’s. He’d stood at the bottom of that staircase too many times to count, waiting to jump and catch her if she stumbled.