He’d remarried when she was ten and had given her a brother and a sister with whom she shared a close bond. Since her father had died, and her stepmother remarried, however, she didn’t see her much younger siblings as much as she’d like, only around the holidays and their birthdays. But they were her blood and she loved them.
And she liked knowing there were more parts of her dad living and breathing out there that were also a part of her.
She finished off the water then wiped her palms on her jeans. She couldn’t help getting the impression Reece wanted to see his mother in case something happened and…
And, well, maybe he’d never see her again.
She shuddered at the idea and searched for wood to knock on, an old tradition she’d learned from her father, who had been interestingly superstitious as well as a huge romantic, in spite of his chosen career.
She realized she hadn’t answered Reece and he was looking at her curiously.
“Would you like to drop me somewhere and go yourself?” she asked.
He blinked as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “No. No…I’d…”
She waited.
“I’d like her to meet you….”
His quiet words made her heart double in size.
Reece looked down at his dusty boots and grinned. “I can’t promise there won’t be questions, though. Some of them may be awkward.”
Mara laughed. “Awkward’s my middle name. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
His gaze met hers and she nearly lost her breath.
If you’d have asked her just a day ago if she’d ever known love, she’d have told you yes, she had.
But in that one moment, merely looking at Reece, and having him looking at her, she knew a connection that transcended any she’d ever experienced. And it made her wonder if, in fact, she’d ever known love at all….
16
BETTINA MACINTIRE REECE had been an elementary school nurse when she’d met her husband-to-be over thirty years ago. And while Jon suspected most women were natural nurturers, his mother…well, when he’d compared her to others while growing up, he knew she surpassed most if not all of them.
Even now, years after his father had passed, she continued on as if she expected him to come home any minute.
For simplicity’s sake, Mara had turned the driving over to him. And now as he pulled up the long driveway leading to the house he’d grown up in, he couldn’t help noticing the little touches that had always made the house a home.
The four-bedroom hacienda–type one-story structure flowed one room into the next, each airier than the one before with windows either looking out over the desert landscape or over the interior courtyard with a water fountain his father had built for his mother’s birthday one year, flowers blooming year-round.
He and his siblings had grown up there, and his bedroom was still his.
With a bit of nostalgia, he realized when he thought of being home, this had always been it. Everywhere else he’d lived had only been a place to catch some sleep and stow his stuff, up to and including the rental house he currently shared with Julie.
“This is it,” he said unnecessarily, since turning off the road made that obvious.
No response.
He glanced at Mara. She plucked and worried over her appearance in the dusty visor mirror. He pulled to a stop beside an unfamiliar Cadillac near the four-car garage around the back of the main house and switched off the engine.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen her nervous before. But he was pretty sure that’s what was behind her messing with her hair for the fifth time since he’d begun driving the short distance to his mother’s place. She’d also applied makeup, only to wipe half of it off moments later.
Had Julie been nervous about meeting his mother? He tried to recall. Then he realized, no, she hadn’t. She’d been complaining about the flight delay they’d encountered and how she planned to file a complaint as soon as they settled in. He’d lightly told her the airline had no control over the weather—they’d encountered severe thunderstorms—but she hadn’t been deterred and was insistent she at least be given a complimentary ticket to make up for her inconvenience.
Odd, he’d never really noticed until then that she’d never really referred to them as “we” or “us.” It was always her…and him as an afterthought.
How strange was that?
“Don’t worry. She’s going to love you,” he said to Mara.
She blinked at him, looking pale. “How do you know that?”
He was intrigued that his mother’s liking her meant something to her. Somehow, he more likely would have expected her to tap her watch and say the clock was ticking. If ever a woman had cause to do exactly that, it was Mara. After all, it wasn’t as if she had an important sale to catch, or a manicurist appointment to make.
He wondered at her many facets. Would he ever reach a point where he wouldn’t marvel at each as it was revealed?
The thought caught him up short. Still, he grinned at her reassuringly. “While I’d like to say it’s because you’re lovable—” that earned him a saucy shadow of a smile “—the fact is, my mother’s one of those irritating types who loves everybody.”
“Ah,” she said, her gaze darting around.
He questioned whether she’d heard his response at all or if he’d lost her to whatever was going on inside that pretty head of hers again.
“Come on,” he said. “She prides herself on her coffee and I have to say it’s some of the best. Okay, it is the best.”
He climbed out of the Blazer and stood next to the front bumper, staring at the Caddy as he waited for her to join him. He was curious as to why his mom hadn’t come out yet. Usually she’d have been at the side of the car before he could shut off the engine.
“Nice place,” Mara said, walking with him to the back door. “This where you grow up?”
“Yeah. Me and my two brothers and sister.”
“Bet it was great.”
He agreed. “It was.”
She stopped walking. “Shit. We should have stopped for something.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’s bad etiquette to show up empty handed. Not to mention bad luck.”
“This isn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill visit, Mara,” he said softly.
“For us, no. But it is for her.”
There was still no sign of his mother. Was she maybe not home? He couldn’t imagine where she’d be at this time of day.
He took out his keys and opened the back door for Mara to enter, then followed.
The kitchen was painted in yellows and browns with Spanish tiles and it smelled of menudo. He stepped to the stove and lifted a lid.
Yes…
“Jonny!”
He turned to find his mother standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a short pink silk robe, her hair mussed, her lipstick smeared.
Never had he seen her in something so…revealing. Her robes had always been made of thick terry cloth and covered her ankles. That’s when he’d seen her in them, which had been rarely and even then, only in the morning, not this early in the evening.
She barely looked like his mother at all.
Then what he guessed to be the owner of the Cadillac stepped up behind her wearing nothing but a towel draped around his hips: a man of about his mother’s age with salt-and-pepper hair and tanned skin.
Jon stared as if the contents of the pan had been dumped over his head….
* * *
“OH, THIS IS AWKWARD,” the man standing behind what Mara gathered was Reece’s mother said, trying to smooth his hair.
She hid a small smile. It was obvious to anyone paying attention what the two had been doing, and it wasn’t gardening.
&nbs
p; It was also obvious that Reece couldn’t have been more shocked had someone told him he was a love child and his father had been the milkman.
“What are you doing here?” his mother said, rushing into the room to hug him.
Reece returned the hug, but half-heartedly. His gaze was fixed on the man still standing in the doorway.
“I, um, will leave you alone for a moment.” The man backed into the other room, then disappeared.
“I didn’t know you were going to be in town,” his mother said. “You should have called.”
“I didn’t realize I had to.”
Silence fell.
His mother finally seemed to catch on that there was someone else in the room. She turned to look at Mara, blinking.
“Hi,” Mara said, extending her hand. “Sorry to be a bother. We were in the neighborhood, so to speak, and Reece thought it would be nice to drop by.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” his mother said. “And your name?”
“I’m sorry. Mara. My name is Mara.”
“Nice to meet you, Mara.”
“Nice to meet you, as well, Mrs. Reece.”
Silence fell again.
Mara could tell Reece was having a hard time formulating something to say. And, for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with anything, either. At least not something that wasn’t entirely lame.
“You have a very nice home, Mrs. Reece,” she said, giving in to the urge to voice one of the more forgiving comments.
“Thank you. Thank you very much. And it’s Bettina. Please…”
Mara cleared her throat, waiting for Reece to snap out of it.
“Um, I’m just going to go check…” Mrs. Reece said, gesturing over her shoulder at the now empty doorway. “I’ll be right back.”
She couldn’t have hurried out of the room faster if she’d run.
Mara tucked her chin into her chest, trying to muffle her laugh.
Reece still stared after where his mother had been.
“Oh, this is awkward,” she said quietly, echoing the visitor’s reaction.
Reece looked at her. “I… She…”
Mara cleared her throat and smiled widely.
Finally the ice seemed to crack on his face. “What in the hell was that?”
He laughed and she joined him.
“I’m guessing that’s the first time you’ve seen your mother with someone who was not your father?”
“Are you kidding? That’s the first time I’ve seen my mother like that even with my father.”
“Well. It seems you’re not the only one capable of surprises.”
Reece didn’t appear to hear her. “She’s throwing a fiftieth wedding anniversary party for the family next month.”
Mara blinked. “To honor her wedding to your dad?”
He nodded.
“I wonder if she planned to introduce her new beau at the event.”
Reece wasn’t amused.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
He began pacing back and forth, amusing her further, although she didn’t think it was a good idea to let him know that. He genuinely looked like a six-year-old kid who’d just found out there was no Santa Claus.
“She is human, Reece,” she said quietly. “And a relatively young and attractive one at that.”
He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.
“What upsets you more? That she’s not remaining forever faithful to your father’s memory?” she asked. “Or that she’s not remaining faithful to your idea of her as your mother?”
He stopped and leaned his hands against the tiled island. “Not fair.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
He looked at her for a long few moments and then pushed away. “I need some coffee. You want some?”
“I thought you’d never ask….”
17
JON WAS STILL TRYING to process everything when his mother came back into the room looking like she usually did in light-colored jeans and white blouse. She easily nudged him out of the way and made the coffee, taking three cups out of the cupboard and talking about the weather and the new shrubs she’d planted along the back of the property line. For a moment, it was all too easy to forget what had happened a few minutes ago.
Until her “friend” popped back up into the kitchen doorway, also dressed and cleaned up.
“Oh, there you are, Joe,” she said as if she’d just opened the back door to find him standing there, a neighbor or old friend. “Come in, come in. I’d like you to meet my middle child, Jonathon. Jonny, this is Joe Winters. He just bought the old Branson ranch up the road.”
Joe crossed the room and extended his hand, looking friendly enough. The problem was, he looked a little too friendly.
Mara had come to stand next to Jon and she nudged him with her elbow now.
He shook Joe’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jon,” the older man said. “Your mom speaks of you often.”
“Funny. She’s never mentioned you.”
There was a clatter from his mom’s direction at the sink as she dropped something.
“I hear you work out of Colorado Springs?” Joe said smoothly. “High-risk private security company?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Join us for coffee, Joe?” his mother asked.
“No, no, thank you. None for me.” He smiled that too-friendly smile at her. Jon didn’t like it. “I really hate to meet and run, but truth is, I’m needed back at the ranch.”
“Oh?” Jon said. “It hasn’t been a running ranch for nearly a decade.”
“Jonny!” his mother said.
“It’s okay, Betti.” Joe looked back at him. “I’ve been busy for the past six months getting it back up and running.”
Six months. He’d been there for six months.
How much of that time had he spent banging his mother? Or, pardon, Betti.
Not even his father had called her Betti.
How much did his brothers and sister know about this?
And if they did know, why in the hell hadn’t anyone told him? It might have saved them all an awkward moment.
God, would he ever be able to just walk into the place again?
His mother handed Mara a cup of coffee, then thrust one out in front of him. He took it.
“I’ll walk you out, Joe,” she said.
“Oh, no need to run on account of me,” Jon said, now wanting to know more where seconds before, he hadn’t wanted to know anything.
“I’m not, son. It’s just time for me to go is all.” He extended his hand again. “Nice meeting you. Hope to see you again soon.”
Don’t count on it, Jon thought. And I’m not your son.
He watched as his mother went to open the door, glaring at him in the same way she had when he was a kid and he’d cracked on some of the parishioners during mass.
Joe said goodbye to Mara and then walked outside, Jon’s mom following.
Mara burst out laughing as soon as the door was closed.
“What?” he demanded. What could she possibly find amusing about this situation. There was nothing amusing about it.
She stopped laughing but obviously with some effort. “Nothing. It’s just that…”
“What?”
“Well, if that wasn’t a pissing match and a half, I don’t know what is.”
He set his back teeth together. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He heard the Caddy start.
A Caddy.
His dad had always favored trucks and SUVs. Something more manly.
“Ri
ght now, you’re about as clear as a mud puddle,” he told Mara.
“You and Joe. As far as I’m concerned, you might as well have whipped them out right here in front of me and your mother.”
The door opened and whatever response he would have made stuck to his tongue as if superglued.
She made another comment about the weather, the heat and what it meant to her water bill as she went to the kitchen table with her coffee, indicating they should follow her.
Jon reluctantly did, but he watched as Mara hung back a moment before saying, “Mrs. Reece, you do have a such a beautiful house. And I spotted that courtyard. Do you mind if I have a look around?”
His mother started to get up. “Not at all, dear. Let me—”
“No, no, that’s not necessary. You two stay here and, um, talk. I can take care of myself. I’ll just be out in the courtyard if you need me.”
Jon squinted at her, then realized what she was doing. She was giving them space in order to have this thing out.
“Very well,” his mother said. “Here, why don’t you take your coffee with you?”
“Thanks. I think I will.” She lifted the mug from the kitchen table. “Reece said yours was the best. I have to say, I agree.”
Then she wandered off, leaving him alone with his mother.
* * *
EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, Mara glimpsed mother and son through the interior windows. She hadn’t lied; the place was beautiful. Exactly the type of house she had once dreamed about living in when she was younger. Then she woke up and realized her chances of ever staying in such a place, much less living in one, were virtually nil. Not with her wandering mother and career military father.
It wasn’t that the place was expensive. No, that’s not what she meant. It was just…
A home.
Something she’d really never known.
She glanced in Reece’s direction again. At first, it appeared that he and his mother were attempting to keep up the front that all was okay. But she knew the instant it collapsed to rubble when Mrs. Reece’s back went up and Jon leaned forward in accusatory animation. She could virtually hear him saying something along the lines of, “How could you?”
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