Laura’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m glad you remember,” she said softly. “I wasn’t sure you did.”
“I wish you’d kept the motorcycle,” Jake said discontentedly. “Then I could have had it someday.”
“We needed the money I got for it.” She gave a funny, broken laugh. “I have to admit, the idea of letting my teenage son head out on his Harley sends a chill down my spine, too. Maybe by the time you can afford to buy your own, I won’t be so worried about you riding it.”
“Didn’t you go for rides with Dad on it?”
“We did in the early days.” Having apparently conquered the tears, she smiled at him. “Before you were born. After that, well—” she laughed “—I’m a secret coward. I never enjoyed the open road the way your dad did.”
“Really?” he marveled. He turned to Ethan. “Do you have a motorcycle?”
“Nope. I was never that interested in anything with an engine.” Replete, Ethan pushed his plate away. “Now, windsurfing on the Columbia River, that’s a charge. I’ll take you this summer.” He frowned. “You can swim, can’t you?”
“Yeah!”
Ethan smiled at Laura. “Both of you.” He’d really like to see her in a bikini. Even a tight-fitting one-piece. Although nothing would be even better.
He never had had that heart-to-heart with his common sense over whether getting too involved with both Vennettis was smart. Reaching out a hand to the boy, that was one thing; he could even think of it as part of his job. He remembered Ken describing Jake as a lit fuse. The spark could still be doused.
He felt a spark low in his belly every time he looked at Laura, too, but this one was entirely personal. He hadn’t decided whether it would be better stamped out, too.
It’s not too late to back off, he told himself, but had a bad feeling he was lying to himself, something he tried not to do.
His unease was such that he made his excuses right after Laura closed the box on the two remaining slices of pizza and, when he declined to take the leftovers, stood to put them in the refrigerator.
“Would you clear up the rest?” she asked Jake, and walked Ethan to the door.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, sounding more formal than she had since he first arrived.
“I like your son. I had fun, too. I don’t take time to do something like shoot baskets often enough.” He grinned. “And, just so you know, the slam dunk was meant to impress some boys Jake knows who were ignoring him.”
“Jerks,” she muttered.
“Yeah, I figured they deserved to see that he has cooler friends than they do.”
Her eyes sparkled and her laugh was a delighted ripple. “His friend isn’t so modest, though.”
Ethan shook his head. “Laura, Laura. You don’t understand preteen boys. Modesty is not a virtue they admire.”
That gained him another laugh. “Then thank you for the dunk, too.”
“Ah, listen. I had an idea,” he said. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jake.”
Her smile faded.
“Nothing bad. I was just thinking I could install a hoop above your garage, if you’re okay with it. It would be healthier for him to be out shooting baskets than doing whatever he does in his room.”
Laura made a face. “Probably computer games.” She looked toward the garage. “Our driveway is flat.”
“Pretty much perfect.”
“If you mean that, I’ll go ahead and buy a...backboard. Isn’t that what they’re called?”
“Yep. I could make one if I had time, but I can’t promise right now.”
In the end, she agreed to let him pick one up since she knew nothing about them and his vehicle was better suited for hauling something that might come in a huge box than hers was. She insisted on paying for it, though.
He was starting to turn away when she touched his arm. “I...wanted to ask you something.”
Ethan tensed at the way she’d lowered her voice. “Sure.”
“Please be honest with me. Do you, um...” She visibly squared her shoulders. “Are you carrying a gun?”
He felt a spurt of anger that he knew wasn’t fair. For all she could tell, he might have a backup weapon; a lot of cops never got dressed without donning an ankle holster. He wasn’t one of them. Maybe someday he’d be sorry, but he didn’t think so.
“No,” he said tersely. “Did you think I’d come to lunch or dinner at your house carrying, after you told me how you felt about it?”
Those shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked. It’s just...”
He got over his pique. “Hey. I do understand, Laura. It’s a hot button for you, and for good reason. I respect that.”
Desperate eyes searched his. “Thank you. I hope it’s not uncomfortable for you. I mean, being unarmed.”
He couldn’t resist wrapping his hand around her upper arm and squeezing gently. “No. I’m not one of those guys who can’t go to the john without his gun. I carry a backup only on the job, and even then only when I’m involved in something that might call for it.” He managed a smile. “Didn’t figure the playground was one of those places.”
“I’m glad.”
Somehow as he’d turned back to face her they’d ended up so close, only a few inches separated their bodies. Their voices had gone quiet, too; intimate. Her gaze was suddenly shy, her cheeks flushed. Ethan couldn’t stop himself from bending to kiss her cheek, warm, soft and sweet-smelling. He heard her inhalation and went still for a moment. Man, he wanted to kiss her mouth, too, but he made himself straighten, let her go and back away.
“See you Tuesday.”
“Oh! You don’t have to pick him up, you know. I’d be glad to drive him.”
No dinner invitation, then. He still didn’t know if she was attracted to him, too, but thought she was. She’d have her own alarm system, though, and he had no doubt he triggered it.
“Why don’t you bring him,” he suggested, “and I’ll run him home afterward?”
“Thank you. If—”
He mock-glowered. “Don’t say, ‘If you mean it.’”
She almost laughed. “I promise.”
“All right.” Even as he was loping across her front yard to the curb, he lifted a hand to her.
Once again, she remained in the open doorway, watching as he drove away.
* * *
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, LAURA spread bills out on the desk as she calculated what she could afford to pay and when. Her sister had picked up Jake to go with them to the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry, a perfect choice when rain was pitter-pattering down, so she had peace and quiet.
Her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local, so she answered.
“Laura?” It was a woman’s voice. “This is Emily. Emiliana?”
Laura’s hand tightened on the phone. What was she supposed to say? Oh, how nice to hear from you after all these years?
“Matt’s sister?”
“I’d forgotten your voice,” Laura said coolly.
That opened a pool of silence. Finally Emily broke it. “Tino told us what you said to him. He’s ashamed he encouraged his kids to talk about what happened.”
“Is he? He should be ashamed. Him a grown-up, preying on a child. Did he mention that word has spread throughout the school? That Jake’s friends have quit calling? That he hears kids whispering ‘Murderer’ as he passes?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Does Mama know you’re calling? I’m sure she wouldn’t approve. Or did you sneak out so Guido doesn’t know, either? He never could stand up to her.”
More silence. Then, “You have reason to be bitter, Laura, but...but we’d like to make it up to you for what we did.”
“How do you make up for not returning your own brother’s calls? For not attending his funeral? For not caring what happened to his only child after he died? Tell me that, Emily.” What answer could there be? Laura didn’t wait to find out. She gently
touched the screen of her phone and cut off her former sister-in-law.
She wanted to turn off her phone, too, but couldn’t when Jake was away from home. She wouldn’t answer if Emily called back. Easy enough.
But so much rage boiled inside her that concentrating on the bills was impossible. All she could do was rerun the conversation through her mind, think of what she could have said and hadn’t, wonder if she’d been wrong to be so ungracious.
I can’t accept an apology. Impossible.
It was six years too late.
As angry as she’d been at Matt herself, she’d been stunned by the way his family treated him. He’d been so bewildered at Marco’s funeral, never dreaming they wouldn’t understand that he hurt as much as any of them. Not giving Laura or Jake the right to grieve for the boy they’d loved, too. Matt had been devastated by the shooting, but lost after the funeral, when every single member of his family turned their backs on him.
On Mama’s orders, Laura had no doubt. She wondered whether Mama knew Emily had called, or that Tino had cried.
Laura looked down to see her hands knotted in fists, and felt the bite of her fingernails pressing into her palms. Yes, Emily, I am a bitter woman. She had never known what hate was until the Vennettis—gregarious, loud, cheerful, quarrelsome, unfailingly supportive of each other—shunned one brother, his non-Italian wife and his shattered five-year-old son.
She choked on that fury now. It burned in her stomach, although in her heart of hearts she knew part of the fire that kept it alive was guilt, because she had turned away from her husband, too. If she’d said, “I forgive you,” and meant it, might he still be alive? Might they have had other children?
She didn’t know. Still couldn’t forgive him. He hadn’t had to see that child with his brains blown out. When he had raced back to the house after she called him, his fellow officers wouldn’t let him anywhere near the small body in the kitchen.
I stayed with him.
No, she hadn’t left him, but her first words on seeing him that day had been, “You did this.” She could still see him, stunned and frozen as he stared at her.
Her phone rang again. Ethan’s name came up on the screen, not her former sister-in-law’s number again. Letting this call go to voice mail would be smart, given the anger still churning in her, but suddenly she wanted to hear his voice more than anything.
“Just thought I’d let you know I bought the hoop and backboard today,” he said. “Did you tell Jake what we were doing?”
“No.”
“I could try to put it up while he’s at school, so it would be a surprise, but I was thinking he might like to help me.”
“I’m sure he’d think that was way cooler than helping Mom paint the deck.”
Ethan laughed. Laura closed her eyes, soaking that laugh in. It was low and rich, something like the tender touch of calloused fingers.
She had to quit thinking like that. He was so wrong for her, even assuming he was interested.
“Thank you,” she said formally. “Jake and I are both lucky you saw him at the gun show.”
The silence that followed had her shifting in her seat. She had a gift, it seemed. But what had she said this time?
“What’s wrong, Laura?”
She blinked. “I... What do you mean?”
“You don’t sound like yourself.”
She closed her eyes. Even more than the need to hear his voice, this was why she’d answered his call. Because she could talk to him.
“Matt’s sister just called. One of his sisters,” she amended. “Emiliana. She was closest in age to him of any of his siblings. Not much over a year older.”
“What did she want?”
Laura tried hard not to let Ethan hear the hate burning in her. “To tell me Tino had talked to them. She wanted to say she was sorry.”
“And what did you say?” His voice held amazing gentleness.
“That it’s too late.” The acid bubbled in her chest, rose in her throat. She couldn’t help herself. “I almost suggested she visit Matt’s grave and try apologizing to a dead man, but I restrained myself.”
He was quiet for a moment. She wondered where he was. The apartment he said was home? Sitting in his SUV in the parking lot of whatever superstore sold basketball backboards? There was no background noise to offer a clue.
“What did you hope would come of talking to Tino?” he surprised her by asking.
“You know what I wanted!”
“To make him ashamed.”
“That...wasn’t my first thought.” The truth shamed her. “I wanted to hurt him. Physically, I mean. Stab him, punch him, see blood gush.” She made a face Ethan wouldn’t see. “I guess I shouldn’t say that to a police officer, should I?”
His chuckle comforted her.
“I wanted to make everything better for Jake, even though, well, realistically that wasn’t going to happen. Nasty gossip can’t be put back in the can.”
“No, it can’t.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure I wanted anything but to tell him how angry I am and to make him feel terrible.”
“I think you succeeded. It sounds like at least some of the rest of the family are ashamed of themselves, too. You could take pleasure in knowing they’ll suffer, you know.”
Hunched forward slightly, Laura realized she was rocking. “I’m not.” Her voice cracked. “I was so angry when she said, ‘I’m sorry.’ So filled with—” Hate. Why not tell him?
“How does Jake feel about his father’s family?” Ethan asked after a pause.
“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “We don’t talk about them. Didn’t until...you know. This thing at school came up.”
“He must have been aware that they’d disappeared from his life.”
“I doubt he noticed at first. You heard what I said to Tino. Jake was so destroyed, he didn’t want to look at anyone. He wouldn’t talk. It was a long time—” She broke off. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m no psychologist, Laura. I don’t know what the right thing would be for you or Jake.”
“But you’re thinking something.”
“It crossed my mind that their apologies might mean something to him, even if they don’t to you.”
“Why would they?” she asked, razor sharp. “Why would he want anything to do with them?”
“Maybe he wouldn’t,” Ethan said mildly.
“You weren’t there.” The moment the words were out, she regretted them. She sounded as if she was making an accusation. Saying, Where were you? As if Ethan Winter had owed her and Jake anything. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right.” He had become more distant again. “What do you think about the backboard?”
“Will you come to dinner Tuesday night?” she blurted, then cringed as she heard yet another silence.
Yep, she was definitely good at creating those.
“You don’t have to,” she said hastily. “I’m acting like you’re our new best friend, and that’s not fair to you. I just thought...” I want to see you. That’s what she’d thought.
“I’d like to come to dinner Tuesday. But it’s a workday for you. Why don’t you let me take you and Jake out instead? How about Mexican? Do you two like it? I know a good place.”
She closed her eyes in profound relief. “We both like Mexican. Are you sure—?”
“I warned you about that.” Amusement infused his voice; she could see him shaking his head at her.
“Okay,” she said meekly. “That sounds nice, Ethan. I have to admit that an evening off from cooking sounds wonderful.”
“Good.”
“And if you’re willing to put up with Jake’s help installing the backboard, I know he’d enjoy it.”
“Okay,” he said, in a tone that made a lump form in her throat. They set a time for Tuesday, and he was gone.
She was left with the scattering of bills, and the realization that the fierce anger was gone, too. In its place was a cautious sense of h
appiness.
CHAPTER FIVE
SOMEHOW ETHAN WASN’T real shocked to discover, in the middle of dinner Tuesday evening, that he wished like hell Jake wasn’t there.
He liked the kid. He did. But he wanted to get to know Laura as a woman, too, not only as a mother.
Was that even possible? He wasn’t sure, but suspected that her parental imperative was even more powerful than most single mothers would feel. She had good reason.
And, on a practical note, how would he ever separate her from her son anyway?
“We get to shoot tonight, right?” Jake said eagerly.
Ethan tuned back in. That expression on the boy’s face bothered him anew. A little excitement would be natural, but this was too intense, too...feverish. It reminded him why he’d gotten involved with the Vennettis in the first place. Jake, not Laura.
Ethan still believed the class was the right route. He hoped the experiences handling a gun now would eventually displace what was obviously still a deeply disturbing memory.
God help me if I’m wrong, he thought.
“That’s the plan,” he said. “We’ll see how busy the range is. Eventually I’ll take you on your own if you’re still interested.”
“I will be.”
Laura was watching her son, too, and seeing what Ethan was, because worry shadowed her face.
“We’ll see.” He constructed a fajita, adding guacamole and sour cream before wrapping the tortilla. “Your dinners good?” he asked, before taking a bite.
“Wonderful.” Laura’s expression eased and she smiled at him.
“It’s better than the place we usually go,” Jake told him. “I really like the chips here.”
Ethan swallowed. “Me, too. Hey, things going any better at school?”
Jake’s “I guess” sounded less sulky than usual. “Ron—you know, the guy I said used to be a friend?” At Ethan’s nod, he continued. “Ron came up to me yesterday and wanted to know who you are. I think he was jealous ’cuz I got to play ball with you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you’re a cop. A detective.” He seemed to savor that. “And that you played for Portland State, and maybe could’ve gone pro, only you decided not to do the draft.”
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