If I Didn't Know Better

by Barbara Freethy

  "In honor of Tracy Holt, inspiring teacher, loving mother and wife," Mia read. "Did your family donate the bench to the park?"

  "No, the families of her first grade class the year she died took up donations and put the bench in. She used to bring her kids here on field trips. At the time, there were no benches at all. She'd sit on the grass and read the kids stories. She always said that children needed to be outside to play, to explore the world, so she took them outdoors whenever she could."

  "She sounds like a fantastic teacher."

  "I think she was good." He looked at Ashlyn. "Tracy Holt is your grandmother—my mother. She would have loved to meet you. But she's in heaven now. She's an angel, just like your mom."

  Ashlyn stared back at him with her big, dark eyes, and he wished he could read what she was thinking, but he couldn't.

  "Can we sit?" Mia asked.

  "Of course."

  Mia took a seat with Ashlyn sliding in next to her and then he sat down. It felt both odd and kind of wonderful. He felt a connection to his mother he hadn't felt in a very long time.

  For a few moments they sat in silence, the only sounds coming from the laughter of kids in the playground. As two little girls ran past them, their high-pitched voices squealing about who was going to get to the slide first, he looked down at Ashlyn and saw something that looked like yearning in her eyes.

  "Would you like to play, Ash?" he asked.

  She refused with a shake of her head, but it wasn't as emphatic a refusal as he was used to getting from her.

  "What about the swings?" Mia put in, tipping her head to the nearby swing structure that was empty. "Looks like you'll have the swing all to yourself."

  Ashlyn's little mouth twisted as she debated the suggestion. She gave him a questioning look.

  "Go ahead. We'll watch you," he said. "We'll be right here when you're done."

  Ashlyn got up and walked across the path as slowly as she possibly could, stopping every now and then to cast a look back at them. Finally, she made it to the swing. She sat down, digging her toes into the sand, but she didn't push off.

  "Do you think I should offer to push her?" Jeremy asked.

  "I don't know," Mia said. "Maybe give her a few minutes."

  "I can't believe she actually went to the swing. I thought she'd say no, the way she always does." He blew out a breath. "Isn't this ridiculous? I'm worrying about whether or not I should push an eight-year-old on a swing. I was solving much bigger problems than this a few months ago."

  "I don’t know about that, Jeremy. Ashlyn's problems seem rather large to me, and having your complete attention is going to be necessary to get her better. What you're doing here and now is important."

  "But my attention doesn't seem to be producing any results. I feel helpless. I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing half the time. You met my old man. That's my role model. That's all I know about being a father."

  "Then it seems like you have nowhere to go but up," she said lightly.

  He glanced over at her. "He was always a son of a bitch. People told me my mom's death changed him, but I don't remember him being any different than he is now, except maybe with her. He was softer when she was around, but he was still blustery and cranky when she was out, and he always thought he knew better than anyone else, especially after several cocktails. He's an alcoholic, but no one would dare say that to his face."

  "Was he abusive?"

  "Not in a physical way. He never hit me, but his words could cut like a knife."

  "I'm sorry he wasn't a good dad, but you're not your father. And Ashlyn isn't you."

  He shifted in his seat, and the creak of the bench made him feel as if his mother was listening in and telling him to wake up and listen to the woman by his side.

  "My mom would have liked you, Mia."

  "I hope so," she said with a smile. "But why do you say that?"

  "Because you're kind and generous. My mother respected those traits more than any others."

  "Thanks," she said, moisture filling her eyes. "That's a nice thing to say."

  He was surprised by her emotional reaction. "If it was so nice, why do you look like you're about to cry?"

  She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers. "I'm just coming off a rough couple of weeks, nothing close to what you've been through. In fact, after meeting you and Ashlyn, I realize how self-absorbed I've been, how I got caught up in things and people that were just not that important."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You don't want to hear about it."

  "Actually, I'd love to talk about someone other than myself. What happened? I assume this has something to do with why you're unemployed."

  "It does. Okay, here goes. I have to warn you that it's kind of embarrassing."

  "I'll be the judge of that."

  "I told you that I was sick as a child and that I spent a lot of time with books and paints. I excelled in school, so that was my comfort place. I couldn't compete with most of my siblings in any other area but grades, although my brother Ian is a freaking genius, so I couldn't beat him, but I was head and shoulders above the rest of them."

  "So there was a lot of competition in the family."

  "Definitely. My father is also one of six kids, and he was raised with the idea that you grow up and you give back. He did that as a firefighter. He instilled in us the idea that it was important to live a life that mattered. He wanted everyone to set their goals early, to figure out their plans and stick to them. He wanted us to push ourselves to be the best at whatever we were doing. So when it came time for me to make my plan, set my goals, I figured that I needed to stay where I was the most confident—academics. After I got a bachelor's degree, I went back to school to get a master's degree. I got as much education as I could possibly get. Then it was time to find the perfect job to fit all that education and that was as an assistant curator at the Kelleher Museum. I helped to curate the visiting exhibitions."

  Jeremy nodded. "Okay, so where's the embarrassing part?"

  "I'm working up to that." She paused for a moment, trying to remember where she'd left off. "The first year was all right, but the job wasn't what I thought it would be. It wasn't nearly as interesting as I'd imagined. I was doing paperwork and making a lot of phone calls. I found myself setting up hotel reservations for the people bringing the collections to the museum. I was getting farther and farther away from art. Then a new director was hired. Grayson Maxwell. He'd been working in Paris, and he was handsome, sophisticated, a little older than me, and very flirtatious. He definitely brightened up my days."

  Jeremy saw the shadows behind her smile. "You fell in love with him."

  "I did. I thought I was being careful. I didn't jump into bed with him. We went out for weeks before things got intimate." She cleared her throat. "I thought I knew him pretty well by then, but I didn't. To make this long story a little shorter, he turned out to still be married to the woman he'd left behind in Paris. She found out about us and threatened to take all the money she'd donated to the Kelleher Museum elsewhere. Grayson broke up with me and the museum laid me off on some technicality that we all knew was just a smokescreen for appeasing his wife and getting me out of the way."

  "That's not right. He was responsible for what happened as much as you were, even more so, because he was the liar." He'd always hated men who were disloyal or unfaithful to anyone: girlfriend, wife, friend, family member. He'd never understood how anyone could betray someone they allegedly cared about. But maybe it was because those people usually cared more about themselves.

  "That's true. But that's not the way the real world works, and to be honest, I didn't want to stay there anyway, not just because it would have been horribly awkward but also because I really didn't like the job."

  "So what's next?"

  "That's what I came here to figure out. Maybe what happened with Grayson was the best thing that could have happened, because I was forced out of that supposedly perfect job that I didn't really
love the way I was supposed to."

  "Do you know what you want to do career-wise?"

  She shook her head. "I wish I did. I know I want it to have something to do with art, but I can't make money as an artist; I'm not talented enough, and that's not really my dream, either." She sighed. "I just feel like I've let everyone down. My family doesn't know as much as I just told you. They know that Grayson turned out to be married, but I sort of glossed over the getting fired part. They're all expecting me to work in another museum, to do something important with my life, because that's what Callaways do."

  He smiled. "Here I thought not having a family was a bad thing. Maybe I'm lucky not to have anyone who cares what I do."

  "My family would tell you that they support me in anything I want to do, but that’s not really true. There's underlying pressure. I know all my siblings have felt it at one time or another. It more difficult for me, because I had to choose a field that's hard to stand out in, to do something important in. My firefighter brothers save lives every day. Ian is working on some scientific breakthrough and Kate wants to serve up justice wherever she can. Annie is a bit closer to me, but even her job is making her famous. She was featured in a national magazine last year." She paused. "Anyway, it's not that I'm not happy for their accomplishments; I just want to bring something interesting to the table."

  "I'm sure you'll do that, Mia."

  "I hope so. Aunt Carly was the one person in my family who really understood me. Before she died, we exchanged emails. She didn't know that I'd gotten myself involved with a married man, but she did know that I didn't love the museum the way I thought I would. It was shocking to me that something I'd worked so hard to get would turn out to be so disappointing."

  "What did she say?"

  "That I needed to follow my passion, wherever it led. That life wasn't about a bank statement or a job title or the respect of anyone else. She told me to quit, find a new job. I wish I'd followed her advice then, instead of looking to Grayson to inspire my life. That was a big mistake."

  "I don't find regrets to be that helpful, Mia. It's what you do next that matters. When you fall down, you get back up. That's all you can do."

  "And maybe try not to fall again," she said with a wry smile.

  He tipped his head. "Definitely."

  "Have you ever been in love, Jeremy?" she asked curiously.

  He thought about that question. "No, not really. I never stayed in one place or with one person long enough to find out, though."

  "A lot of soldiers get married."

  "And that makes their life even more difficult. I never had to worry about anyone but myself. It was all about the mission. I was better at my job because of that single-minded focus."

  "Well, that's not true anymore. You have Ashlyn now."

  "Yes, I do. She's giving me a lot to think about."

  "Like whether or not you go back to the Army?"

  "It's definitely up in the air." He looked over at his daughter, who was still barely moving the swing, but she hadn't gotten up yet, so he would leave well enough alone. "I love my career. I don't want it to end, but I'm dealing with physical constraints that may prevent me from going back to Delta. I have to be at the highest physical level to do what I do, and if I'm not at one hundred percent, I'm no use to the team."

  "That's harsh."

  "It's the truth."

  "What is Delta? It sounds like a spy group."

  "You're not wrong. A lot of what we do is classified."

  "Like a Navy SEAL?"

  "Only better," he said with a cocky laugh.

  She smiled. "But seriously—"

  "That's really all I can tell you, Mia."

  "So, if you can't go back to Delta because of your shoulder, what will you do?"

  "I don't know. And it's not only the shoulder that might stop me from returning to my unit; it's Ashlyn. Who would watch her when I'm deployed? Sometimes I have one hour to grab my bag and go to wherever in the world I'm needed. I couldn't do that as a single father."

  "You'd have to get a full-time, live-in nanny."

  "So my daughter would be raised by a babysitter?"

  "What other option would you have? Unless you can find a wife really quickly."

  "I need fewer complications, not more," he said dryly.

  "Then you might have to change careers, too."

  "Looks like we both have some big decisions coming up."

  "We do," she agreed. "Mine aren't as big as yours. There is no one depending on my choice, but you have Ashlyn, and in the long run she's going to be more important to your life than any job you do. She's your daughter. She's your family."

  "I thought the Army was my family."

  "But isn't war awful? Aren't there just horrific parts of your job?" she ventured.

  "Of course. But I feel like I'm making a small dent in reducing the evil in the world every time I go out."

  "Well, I admire your bravery, and I'm grateful there are men and women like you who are willing to take that job on."

  "Thanks." He paused. "But when it comes to bravery, I think the battlefield is easier than this playground."

  She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you see if Ashlyn will let you push her?"

  "You'd probably be her first choice for that."

  "It's easier for her to like me because she's not supposed to love me. I'm just a friend. You—she's still trying to figure out what it means to have a father. She probably doesn’t understand where you've been all her life."

  "Even I don't understand that."

  "But you know what it feels like to want a father in your life. Just be the dad that you wanted your father to be."

  "That's good advice."

  "I hope so. And, Jeremy…"

  "Yes?"

  "I know what a good father looks like, because I have one. And he's a lot like you. Don't sell yourself short."

  "Okay, thanks for the pep talk. I'm going in."

  "Good luck."

  He walked over to the swing. "Want to go a little faster, a little higher?" he asked.

  She quickly shook her head, her hands gripping the chains of the swing.

  "I won't let you fall, Ash. You can trust me."

  She met his gaze, and for a moment he thought he had her, and then she jumped off the swing and ran back to Mia.

  A wave of disappointment ran through him. But he wasn't going to quit. He would win her over, no matter what it took.

  Unfortunately, his daughter might have inherited his stubborn streak along with her dark hair and dark eyes. This battle would not be won in a day.

  Seven

  Mia felt bad for Jeremy when Ashlyn dissed his offer of a push and ran straight to her, but she didn't say anything. Jeremy and Ashlyn would have to find their way to a relationship; she couldn't make it happen for them no matter how much she wanted to.

  As they walked through the park, her thoughts turned back to her recent conversation with Jeremy. She felt a little foolish for telling him about her affair with Grayson and the loss of her job, but in a way it had felt good to get it out. She hadn't told anyone the whole story and now that she had, she felt like she might be able to truly move on. She would find a job that she loved, something she could make enough money at to pay her bills, because that was the Callaway way, but she wasn't going to settle for something that wasn't right for her, no matter how perfect it seemed to everyone else.

  "Would you mind if we stopped at the market so I could pick up some groceries?" she asked, as they got into the car. "I promise to be quick."

  "You don't have to rush; I need to pick up a few things as well."

  "That would be great."

  "I don't know about great, but happy to help."

  "I'll feel better once I have food in the refrigerator. Then I can settle in and really get some things done."

  "As long as you don't let your neighbor and his daughter derail you," he said lightly.

  She smiled. "I'm not keeping a schedul
e. I've done that for all of my life. I'm going to take these few weeks to work at my own pace, however slow or fast that might be."

  "I like to control the pace, but right now I don't have that luxury. Someone else is calling the shots."

  "I bet you never thought your life would be in the hands of an eight-year-old."

  "I definitely did not," he agreed.

  "You're a soldier. Don't you sometimes have to retreat so you can fight another day?"

  "I prefer to have a solid enough plan before I go into battle so that retreating isn't necessary."

  "I have a feeling you're a good soldier."

  "I was trained to be good."

  She had a feeling his talents went way beyond his training, but Jeremy definitely didn't talk himself up, and she liked that about him.

  A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the market. They each grabbed a cart and split up to do their shopping. Of course, Ashlyn chose to stay with Mia. She decided to take one little minute to offer Ashlyn some advice.

  "You know, honey, your dad is trying really hard to make you happy. You might want to think about letting him do that. Wouldn't it have been fun for him to push you on the swing?"

  Ashlyn stared up at her, then shrugged.

  Well, at least she hadn't said no or not reacted at all.

  "Your dad loves you a lot. And he's not going anywhere, even if you try to push him away." It had occurred to her that Ashlyn might be consciously or subconsciously testing her father to see if he would get mad and leave. Ashlyn needed to know that her father was going to stay before she could trust him. "So maybe give him a break once in a while. You can do that, can't you?"

  Ashlyn twirled a strand of her hair around on her finger as she considered the question. Then she pointed to the freezer section behind Mia. "Ice cream."

  Mia smiled. "You can definitely talk when you want to." She opened the glass door. "Ice cream is actually a pretty good idea. There's nothing better than a hot summer night and a bowl of cherry vanilla ice cream."

  "Chocolate," Ashlyn said, pulling out another container.

  "Okay, chocolate isn't bad, either," she said, tossing it into her cart. "Now we need to get some vegetables so that I can justify eating the ice cream for dessert."