by Cindi Myers
“Mom, what’s wrong with you?” Greg asked. “Why are you acting all weird?”
“I’m not acting weird,” she said. “I just want everything to be right.”
It upset Troy to see Marlee in such a state because she was worried about what her coworkers might think of her. Had his leaving done this to her? Or was he giving himself too much credit? Maybe raising a child alone had made Marlee more guarded.
A woman and a girl a little older than Greg approached. “Hello, Marlee,” the woman said. “Did you make that cake? It looks wonderful.”
“Thanks. Um, Peggy Jarvis, this is my friend Troy Denton.”
“Nice to meet you.” Troy shook hands with Peggy and soon he was being introduced to half a dozen other people. They all greeted him warmly, and he noticed Marlee’s shoulders relax.
Mr. Morgenroth approached. Dressed in a blue polo shirt and khaki shorts with a floppy canvas hat shading his head, he looked more like a golf-playing grandfather than a business executive. “Troy! Good to see you.” He looked over to the parking lot. “Did you ride your bike? It’s a great day for it.”
“No, I came with Marlee and Greg.” Marlee had moved farther down the long picnic table beneath the pavilion, where she and a group of women, including Peggy and Trish, were arranging bowls of food and stacks of plates. Greg and the little girl had joined a group of kids on the playscape nearby.
“Marlee said you were an old friend,” Mr. Morgenroth said.
That was as good a way as any to describe their relationship. “Yeah. We knew each other years ago.”
“Marlee never talks much about herself,” Mr. Morgenroth mused.
Troy remembered her earlier assertion that sharing too much about one’s past only led to more questions. “She’s a very private person,” he said.
“And I respect that. Marlee has always been special to me.”
“She said you hired her when no one else would. She’s very grateful for that.”
“Over the years I’ve learned that attitude and intelligence can count for more than work experience and education,” Mr. Morgenroth explained. “When Marlee came to that first interview she was nervous but determined. She said she was trying to build a new life for herself and I wanted to help her.”
“She has that effect on people.” Yet Marlee could never see it. She mistook their goodwill for pity or judgment. When he’d first met her, she’d used a teenage brazenness as a defense against others getting too close. The adult Marlee was doing the same thing, using her privacy and fierce independence to keep out the rest of the world—even him.
“We have a mentoring program in the company, where a junior employee shadows a senior one to learn the ins and outs of the job,” Mr. Morgenroth said. “The idea is not only to teach, but to develop close relationships so that the junior employee has an advocate higher-up, someone who is familiar with her strengths and weaknesses, and can be a sounding board. I’ve recommended Marlee for the program. I think it could really help her career, but for some reason she’s reluctant to participate.”
Marlee had talked so much about building a better life for herself and Greg, Troy was surprised she hadn’t taken advantage of this opportunity to advance. Was it the words close relationship that frightened her away?
“Troy! Troy, watch me!”
A shout from the playscape drew their attention. Troy turned in time to see Greg shoot down the tallest slide. He grinned and waved. “Way to go!” he called as the boy hit the dirt at the end of the slide and raced back to the ladder for another try. Troy didn’t think he’d ever tire of watching his son do even simple things like this.
Trish waved from the picnic tables. “Come on, everyone!” she called. “It’s time to eat!”
“Troy! Come sit with me!” Greg ran to take Troy’s hand then tugged him toward the tables. They fell in line behind Mr. Morgenroth and filled their plates with barbecue, potato salad, coleslaw and beans.
Marlee joined them in the line. “Honey, don’t take more than you can eat,” she cautioned as Greg heaped food onto his plate.
“Save some room for your mom’s cake,” Troy said, scraping half of Greg’s potato salad onto his own plate.
The three of them settled at the table across from Trish and Mr. Morgenroth. As he ate, Troy studied Marlee’s coworkers. Though she claimed not to be close to them, these were as near to a family as she had. He thought of his own family, aunts and uncles and cousins scattered around the country and largely estranged. For so long, he’d thought he only needed Marlee and Greg to be complete. Now he saw that a larger circle—of friends or family—could provide the support and help everyone needed. The more people around, the more likely everyone was to succeed. As much as he hated to admit that Bernie was right, this kind of social-support system probably was key to making it on the outside.
Troy glanced at Marlee, who sat on the other side of Greg, helping the boy cut a slice of brisket. Her head was bent close to his, almost touching, as she guided his hands in hers. She could have accomplished the task more quickly by taking over and doing it herself, but Greg had probably insisted on cutting his own meat, so this was a compromise.
Maybe that was the trick to reaching Marlee, Troy thought. Don’t infringe on the independence she valued so highly, but make sure she knew he was there if she needed him. He didn’t want to take over her life or make decisions for her; he only wanted to be beside her, to show her that two people together could be stronger than one person alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER LUNCH, Mr. Morgenroth, tireless in his role of host, gathered the children together for a game of volleyball. Marlee and Troy sat in lawn chairs in the shade and watched the game. “Hey, that was great!” Troy applauded as Greg launched the ball over the net with a little help from Mr. M.
He’s so focused on Greg, so proud of him, Marlee thought. Would people guess he was more than a friend? Every day it was harder to convince herself she was doing the right thing by delaying telling Greg the truth—but at the same time, every day that passed made it more difficult to admit she had deliberately lied to him.
Troy turned and caught her staring. “You look so serious,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “You surprise me.”
“How is that?”
“The way you get along so well with Greg. I’ve never known any men who were that into kids.”
“Greg isn’t just any kid.”
“When you first came back, I was sure you’d get bored after a few weeks, or that you’d make a couple token gestures and leave again.”
“You thought that or you hoped that?”
Was she so transparent? Or was it only that Troy knew her so well? “I don’t think any mother relishes sharing her responsibilities with someone else—especially someone who’s just been released from prison.”
“I hope I’ve proved you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I always worry. It’s part of being a mother. And part of who I am.”
Troy sat back in his chair. They were sitting a little apart from the others, but he lowered his voice further, so as not to be overheard. “Mr. Morgenroth told me about a mentoring program at your work. He thinks you’d be perfect for it.”
Her mouth tightened. “It’s none of your concern.”
“Why won’t you join the program?” he pushed.
Why did he insist on being so…so involved in her life?
“It sounds like a great opportunity,” he said.
“It requires long hours and some travel. I can’t be away from Greg that much.”
“You could make arrangements for him. I could look after him.”
She waited for the familiar, panicky feeling she got whenever she thought of leaving her son with someone else, but it didn’t come. Troy would no doubt take good care of Greg, and Greg would love spending time with him. She would miss him, but she certainly wouldn’t be afraid for his safety or health.
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��I just don’t think I’d enjoy the program,” she said. The brochure Mr. Morgenroth gave her had included testimonials from previous participants, who talked about the “close, personal relationships” they’d built with their mentors. Photographs showed two women laughing as they bent over papers at a conference table, and a younger and older man dressed for golf. The idea of opening her life to someone else made Marlee’s heart race.
“It’s the privacy thing, isn’t it?” Troy asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not the kind of person who wants to be chummy with my superiors.”
“I can understand that. But you know you don’t have anything to be ashamed of, don’t you?”
My father was a career criminal. I had a baby out of wedlock while the baby’s father was in jail. Maybe they weren’t big things to most people, but to Marlee they were like the secret she was keeping from Greg—the longer she remained silent, the more difficult it was to confess.
It wasn’t only her past she didn’t care to reveal, however. Getting close to someone guaranteed heartache. Sooner or later, people disappointed you, went away or died—the way her father, Troy and her mother had done. She was tired of being abandoned that way.
“I can’t believe Mr. Morgenroth told you about the mentoring program,” she said.
“He cares about you. I think he wanted me to know it—like a dad warning a boyfriend not to step out of line.”
Marlee felt her cheeks heat. “Does he think you’re my boyfriend?”
“He didn’t say, but you can’t keep people from speculating.”
No, though she’d certainly tried.
TROY HOPED Marlee’s coworkers did think they were a couple. Maybe their acceptance would help Marlee decide to let him closer. She spoke of protecting Greg from the censure of those who might disapprove of her father’s or Troy’s past, but she was clearly protecting herself as well. How could he convince her he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her or their son?
“Come on, let’s go swimming.” As the volleyball game wound down, Trish rose from her chair and waved to the players. “Anyone want to take a dip in Barton Springs?”
“I do!” Greg bounded toward them and launched himself into Marlee’s lap. “Can we go swimming, Mom? Please?”
“Yes, we can go swimming.” She hugged him tight, burying her nose in his neck and inhaling deeply.
“Mo-om!” Giggling, he squirmed out of her lap and ran to Troy. “Let’s go swimming. Now!”
They collected their towels and swimsuits from the car and started up the path to the pool. “Greg, you come with me,” Marlee said, heading toward the women’s changing room.
“But, Mom, I don’t want to change in the ladies’ room!” Greg scowled at Marlee and knotted his swim trunks in his hands.
“He can come with me.” Troy winked at the boy. “After all, we men have to stick together.”
Marlee frowned, but then nodded. “All right. Greg, you stay with Troy. This is a big place and I don’t want you wandering off.”
“I’m not a baby,” Greg protested.
Troy caught his hand. “She knows you’re not a baby,” he said. “She’s just being a mom. You wouldn’t want her to get thrown out of the moms’ union for not doing her job, would you?”
Greg laughed and looked up at Marlee, who was trying hard to maintain her frown, but not quite succeeding. “Moms’ union!” She shook her head, laughter escaping. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “You wouldn’t want me to give away all my secrets, now, would you?”
Their gazes met and held. Troy had a sudden vision of what it would be like if they were a real family—the laughter, the shared jokes. He and Greg could go swimming together all the time. Then later, when the swimming was over and Greg had gone to bed, he and Marlee…
“Come on, Troy, hurry!”
The boy swinging on his arm pulled him out of his fog of longing, back to the park with its summer Saturday crowd. Marlee turned away, toward the women’s dressing room. “Meet you at the pool,” she said, and slipped into the dank concrete bunker.
Troy helped Greg strip out of his shorts and into a pair of red-and-black trunks that bagged to his knees. Then, while Greg hopped impatiently from bench to floor and back, Troy dressed in his own purple trunks. He’d bought them only this morning, and had to pause to tear off the price tag.
They stowed their clothes in a locker and Troy pinned the key to his trunks. “Now are we ready?” Greg asked.
Troy grinned at him. “We’re ready.”
They emerged into the sunlight at the side of Barton Springs Swimming Pool. The spring-fed, rock-bottomed swimming hole attracted swimmers of all ages year-round, from octogenarians in swim caps and Speedos to UT students in bandannas and tie-dye. The constant sixty-five-degree water provided a cooling dip for scorching summer days and an invigorating workout on winter mornings. For many people, Barton Springs was as much a symbol of Austin as armadillos and bats. For Troy, coming to this pool was like coming home.
He followed Greg to the shallow end, where Marlee and Trish waited. The women sat on the edge of the pool, dangling their feet in the water. Troy caught his breath at the sight of Marlee in her bright pink tank suit. His memory hadn’t done justice to her body, which teased his senses now with ripe curves and swelling breasts sheathed in Lycra.
His reaction was immediate and obvious in the purple trunks. He slipped into the water, grateful for the shock of cold, which tempered his desire. He waded over to Marlee and Trish. “The water’s just as cold as it ever was,” he said.
Marlee appeared to be watching Greg splash in the shallows. But her cheeks had a flush that had nothing to do with the sun, as if she was aware of him and his eyes on her. He willed her to look at him, and she did, eyes heavy-lidded and dark.
“I’m going for a swim,” she said. “Trish, will you keep an eye on Greg?”
“Sure,” Trish said.
Marlee dived into the water and glided past Troy. She’d always been a strong swimmer. Troy plunged his head underwater and surfaced, then settled into long, easy strokes across the pool. Together, they headed for the peninsula of rock that jutted out near the diving board. He hauled himself out of the water and held out a hand for Marlee.
He pulled her up beside him, almost into his lap. She settled a few inches away and wrung the water from her hair. Droplets cascaded down her shoulders, sliding between her breasts.
They had spent the day in each other’s company, but being with her now felt more intimate than all the time before. Maybe it was because they were barely dressed, or the pool itself and the memories associated with it worked a spell on them.
“Do you remember when we used to come here?” Troy asked. Their last summer together, they had spent practically every Sunday afternoon here. They’d tease each other in the water, with furtive touches and whispered promises, until, aching with desire, they’d rush home to make love, their cool clammy skin heating and drying in the warmth of their passion.
“I’d never forget. It was always one of my favorite places.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “Those were some of my favorite times.”
“Remembering times like that got me through my worst days in prison,” he said.
“Was it very bad for you?” She tilted her head, resting her cheek on one knee to look at him. “Whenever my father talked about doing time, it was like it was some privileged club for tough guys.”
“He wouldn’t have told you the bad stuff,” Troy said. “He wanted you to respect him.”
“So it was bad,” she said.
“It wasn’t good. Prison isn’t just about taking away your freedom. When you’re inside, you also lose your privacy and your dignity. Some guys lose their minds.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I figured out quickly that it helped to focus on something else—something outside those walls. For some guys it was religion. Others wanted revenge. For me it was you
and our baby.”
Her eyes shone and she blinked rapidly. “Even after I didn’t answer your letters?”
“I had a responsibility to you, no matter what.”
“So that’s what kept you going—a sense of responsibility?”
“No. What kept me going was love.”
“Love?” She repeated the word as if she’d never heard it before. “After seven years with no contact? That’s crazy.”
“Maybe it is a little bit, but that’s how I feel.” He sensed her pulling away, and he struggled to keep her with him. “I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m just being honest. I love you and I love Greg. I want to be with you and to give you the kind of life I promised before. If you don’t feel the same about me, I’ll be Greg’s father and help you whenever you need me. But if you think there’s a chance for us, then I’m willing to wait.” There had been moments when they’d been alone together—when they’d caught each other’s eyes, when he’d kissed her—that he’d been sure she still felt something for him. She said there had been no other man in her life. Was that really because she didn’t want a relationship, or because her heart belonged to him?
She opened her mouth, closed it again, then shook her head. “You’ll always be special to me,” she said. “You were my first love, and you’re Greg’s father. But too much has happened since then for us to go back.”
“I’m not suggesting going back,” he said. “I want us to move forward. To start over together.”
“I…” She put a hand over his and squeezed it briefly, then released it. “We’re friends. Let’s leave it at that for now.” Then she slipped into the water and swam back across the pool.
He let her go, watching until she climbed out on the other side next to Greg and Trish. He supposed he should be grateful. She didn’t hate him and was willing to let him be a part of her life, which was a big improvement over where they’d been five weeks ago. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more than friendship from Marlee. More than being her son’s father and meeting up to trade custody. He’d returned to her believing he could rekindle the love she’d once had for him.