Dean stuck out his tongue at Kim. She merely smirked and wiggled her eyebrows.
“I’ve always been a little scared of dogs.”
Stella’s voice made him turn away from his sister.
“Scared?” Tim’s lip curled in disbelief. “Of a dog?”
“Pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Tim,” Dean warned.
“She said it first.” Tim snorted. “Can I go play with my puppy?”
“It isn’t yours yet, kid. You gotta convince Gramma there’s room for another mutt on this farm.”
“Okay!” Tim skipped off to play with the herd behind the fence.
“Think he can convince her?” Stella asked.
“Oh, yeah. Tim’s got Mom wrapped around his finger.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Eleanor Luchetti we all know and fear.”
“I keep telling everyone she’s been replaced by a pod person.”
Confusion flickered across her face, so he explained.
“Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Aliens come to Earth and replace everyone with look-alikes, which come out of pods in their basements.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember that movie.”
“I checked the basement,” Dean continued. “No pods.”
Stella gave a short laugh.
“I was serious,” Dean muttered. “But no one believes me. They say the grandkids have mellowed her.”
“Grandkids do change people.”
“So Mom says.” Dean frowned at Stella’s torn and grass-stained clothes. “I’m really sorry about this. I’ll pay for your suit.”
“I should have known better than to wear it.”
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he said.
“Some things never change.”
Dean cast her a quick glance, but she was staring at tiny cow-shaped dots on a faraway hill and not at him. How could fourteen years have passed and she still looked the same? How could she look the same, and be so different?
And she was different; he just couldn’t put his finger on exactly how.
“What things?” he asked.
Stella started as if she’d forgotten he was there, then shrugged. “Never wear a light-colored suit to a dairy farm.”
She smiled, and Dean suddenly understood what had changed. Stella’s smile had always lit up everyone and everything around her—certainly him. Stella had great teeth, courtesy of Daddy’s money and the only orthodontist in Gainsville. Dean’s were just a little crooked and always would be.
But it wasn’t the straightness or the whiteness of her teeth that had made Stella’s smile special, or the loveliness of her skin or the green-brown shade of her eyes. What had made Stella’s smile light up the world had been the expression of happiness that came from deep within.
Now her mouth faked a happiness no longer found in her eyes. Why was Stella so deep-down sad?
“Is there somewhere we could talk?” she asked.
“We are talking.”
“About Tim.”
“Privately, you mean?”
“Yes. Although your mother seemed to want to be in on the discussion.”
“My mother wants to be in on everything.” Dean headed toward the cornfield, stopping when Stella didn’t follow. “You coming?”
She eyed the waving stalks. “Don’t tell me your office is down row five. I’ve heard that one before.”
His lips tilted at the memory. Moonlight on the cornfield. Him and her in the center making out, surrounded, shielded by the six-foot-high plants. His hands under her shirt; hers down his pants—
Dean’s body responded with a leap that could have been visible to a roving satellite, and because of that, he growled. “I live in the thresher’s cottage now. You wanna talk private, we do it there.”
He strode into the field, wincing at the innuendo. If she followed fine; if not, fine, too.
Dean had an appointment with a cold shower.
STELLA PLUNGED INTO the field, following the slightly waving stalks, which revealed Dean’s path. By the time he popped out on the other side, she was right behind him.
The cabin had been built aeons ago to house threshers. In times past, a threshing machine was too expensive for everyone to own, so it had moved from farm to farm, and the owners of the land provided housing and food for the workers, along with modest pay.
Stella shook her head. She was remembering trivia in an attempt to forget what had happened the last time she’d been in this house. She wasn’t going to be able to remain in town very long at this rate. Everywhere she went she was assaulted with memories of them together.
Dean climbed the porch steps and opened the screen door. Stella hung back.
“You don’t want to come in?” he asked.
His eyes were open, curious, holding none of the memories that had to haunt hers. How could he forget that they’d met here, too? How could he live in this house? How could he breathe?
Stella forced herself to take air in through her nose, then let it out through her mouth. A little trick she’d learned her first year of teaching—not only did it calm panic attacks but prevented fainting and hyperventilating.
In a few seconds her heart slowed. She gave herself a quick talking to. If Dean could forget, so could she.
Stella lifted her chin, stomped up the steps and preceded him inside. One glance and she felt better. Everything had changed.
Back then, no one had lived here, which was why they’d come. The floors had been dirty, the windows cracked, the walls streaked. Bats had lived in the ceilings and mice in the corners. That she’d spent any time in the place at all only proved how incredible Dean had been.
The cottage was now completely redone—new floors, windows and drywall, paint, curtains and furniture. Soft footballs, T-shirts and socks were scattered around. Dirty dishes littered the countertop.
Her throat got a little thick at the sight. The place no longer looked abandoned; it looked like a home. So very different from her apartment in L.A., where everything was white, not a speck of color there or in her life. The apartment wasn’t home—never had been, never would be.
Where were these strange thoughts coming from? She’d liked her life just fine—until it changed.
“Sit.” Dean swept out a hand, indicating the living room. “You want anything?”
For an instant her gaze flicked to the smooth, tanned hollow of his throat. He swallowed, and her stomach danced.
“No.” She moved out of the hall and took a seat on the edge of the sofa. “Thank you.”
Her voice was cool, remote. Principal O’Connell was back. Stella felt so much better.
Dean sat in a chair that was as far away from her as he could get and still be in the same room.
She cleared her throat. “About Tim—”
“He told me he’s been behaving. Was that an exaggeration?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m worried about him.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
Dean was silent for several seconds, then shrugged. “You lost me.”
“He seems lonely.”
Dean’s lips tilted upward. “Ain’t we all?”
Stella frowned. How could he be lonely in the middle of such a huge, loud, loving family? Dean had a son, probably a girlfriend—or ten. She doubted the local women had sworn off him for good, especially once they’d gotten out in the world and discovered that while Dean might be sarcastic and short-tempered on occasion, he was a good man at heart, and those were very hard to find.
“Tim’s a kid,” she said. “He should have friends.”
“He’s got friends.”
“Really? I’ve never seen him with anyone.”
Dean scowled. “He hasn’t been in school that long.”
“How long?”
“Since last year.”
“A boy should make friends more quickly than that, Dean,�
� she said quietly.
“I never made friends very easily, either.” He shrugged. “I had no patience for BS, even at six.”
“You had your brothers and Brian. You didn’t need anyone else.”
Not even her.
“I was a lot like Tim,” Dean continued, glancing at his hands, which were clenched between his knees. “I couldn’t sit still. Did a lot of dumb-ass stuff.”
“You weren’t dumb,” she said automatically, the way she’d always said it whenever her friends had called him that.
“I know.” He lifted his gaze. “I was just like Tim.”
The light dawned. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
“ADHD,” she said, and Dean nodded.
She’d already been beyond impressed that Dean had taken on a child with the disorder, but knowing he had the same problem sent her estimation of him even higher. In truth, he was probably the best man for the job of raising Tim since he knew firsthand what the child was going through.
“When did you find out?”
“Last year. Tim bamboozled me into taking the tests with him. I think he was scared, though he’d never let you know it.”
“No wonder,” she murmured. “No wonder what?”
“You had a hard time focusing. You couldn’t sit still. You never paid attention.”
“I was a problem child.”
“You couldn’t help it.”
“I could. I just didn’t want to.”
“You didn’t want to because it was more difficult for you than everyone else, and back then no one knew what to do, except label you difficult and stick you in shop class.”
“I liked shop.”
As an educator, Stella should have recognized his condition before she was slapped in the face with it. Of course, she hadn’t been an educator then, and now…now she wasn’t sure what she was anymore.
“No one knew much about ADHD until the late seventies and early eighties,” she said. “It’s a wonder you made it through school at all.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t really matter since I never wanted to do anything but farm.”
Which also made sense. Farmers spent a lot of time outdoors in the wide-open spaces. They spent very little of their life sitting still. Being successful was based on common sense and hard work, which wasn’t a bad way to gauge success, come to think of it.
Not that sufferers of ADHD were stupid. Quite the opposite. They were often very intelligent, but unable to focus their attention for a reasonable amount of time. Age, practice and, in some cases, medication helped.
“I can’t force Tim to make friends,” Dean said.
“Maybe he could join a club or a sport. Something that would get him involved with children from the area.”
“After last week, I’m not all that enthralled with the children from the area.”
“They aren’t all like Jeremy Janquist.”
“Thank God for small favors. Tim has had enough rough stuff in his life.”
“What kind of rough stuff?”
“He was abandoned. Smacked around. I haven’t been able to get all the details out of him. It’s a miracle he can function at all, that he can trust, that he can even sleep at night. I consider myself lucky he isn’t a budding serial killer.”
Stella winced. She’d seen enough of those already.
“There’s no record of his family, or him, anywhere?” she asked.
Dean cast her a quick glance. “You’ve been reading the file.”
She’d been listening to her father, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
“What does his having no records mean for you and Tim and the adoption?”
“Things are moving but slowly. I have temporary custody. Aaron and his wife, Nicole, have been helping me since they know a lot of people in social services.”
“What if someone else claims Tim?” she asked.
Dean clenched his hands, and an expression of such desolation washed over his face she almost reached out.
“I’ll fight for him,” he said. “His parents dumped Tim somewhere alone, and they never came back. They didn’t want him, but I do. I won’t let him go.”
Stella had never known Dean to be this certain of anything, except farming, which only proved she didn’t really know him at all.
She was finding his responsible, loving side as attractive as his muscley, sexy side, and that meant trouble. She’d only embarrass herself if she started drooling and he noticed. Being turned down by the man once in her life was quite enough, thank you.
“I’m thinking Boy Scouts would be good for Tim,” she blurted. “Maybe 4-H?”
“He wants to play football.”
She shuddered. “At seven?”
“Eight. Today.”
“Oh.” She recalled the balloons. “Right. How did he discover his birth date?”
“He picked one.”
“Why today?”
“He said he wanted to make the day happier.”
“Good luck,” she muttered.
“Yeah.” Dean tilted his head. “You don’t have a problem with his making up a birthday? Usually administrative types get their knickers in a twist about stuff like that.”
“I’ve got better things to twist my knickers.”
Silence followed her statement and she swallowed. That had sounded suggestive. Just about everything did when she was around Dean.
His gaze dropped to her left hand. “You aren’t married?”
“No,” she said shortly.
He lifted his eyes. “Were you?”
“No.”
The air between them seemed to hum with all the things they’d said and quite a few they hadn’t.
Stella sighed. “I came about Tim.”
“I didn’t figure you came for me.”
Her eyes widened. She’d come for him—a lot.
He saw her expression and cursed, then stood and strode to the window. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” he said.
“What?”
Her voice had gone breathy. From the sudden tension in his shoulders, he’d noticed.
“Live in the same town. Stand in the same places where we once—” He made an impatient noise deep in his throat. “You know. I can’t pretend I never touched you, Stella, even if I’m supposed to.”
“I didn’t think you remembered.”
He stared out the window. In the distance, the sound of childish laughter was punctuated by a symphony of barking dogs. Adults shouted. Cows lowed. Life went on.
So why did it seem as if they were right back at the beginning?
“I remember everything,” he murmured. “All the time.”
CHAPTER FIVE
STELLA’S STARTLED GASP affected Dean like a soft punch to the gut. He never should have said that.
“Dean, I—”
He spun around. “You what?”
“I don’t know. Nothing’s really changed. I’m not staying, and you won’t leave, right?”
“Right.”
There’d be ice in Satan’s backyard before he left Gainsville for anything other than a vacation. Not that he ever took a vacation, but whatever.
“You didn’t love me.”
He’d said that to make her go. So she’d have the life she’d dreamed of. The life she could have, should have, without him.
He’d lied, but he couldn’t tell her that. What good would it do? They’d only get their hearts broken again when she left.
The devil on his shoulder whispered: Why not have a fling?
But Dean was no good at flings, never had been. Besides, he had the kid to think about now. Tim wanted a mom. He deserved one. Dean wasn’t exactly sure how he’d get him one, but he wouldn’t start by having a wild affair with his son’s principal for the few weeks or even months she was in town.
In Gainsville everyone knew everyone else’s business, and sooner or later everyone would know that. How mortifying. For him, for her, but especially for Tim.
Dea
n couldn’t do it.
He considered it a miracle they’d managed to keep what had happened between them fourteen years ago from becoming common knowledge.
Stella never would have been able to live in his world, no matter how much he might have wanted her to. She would have wilted and died here—or at least their love would have.
He’d been right to make her go. She’d have wound up resenting him, hating him, and that he couldn’t bear. Although she didn’t appear to like him too much right now, and she wasn’t going to like him any better in a few seconds.
Well, better a clean break than a slow, ugly death. The same rule applied today as it had fourteen years ago.
“I didn’t love you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
He watched her face, which had once been so expressive. He’d been able to tell every shift in her mood by that face. He couldn’t any longer.
“Don’t be,” she said. “You can’t help who you love, or who you don’t.”
She stood and turned away.
“No,” he murmured, letting his gaze wander over the long, slim line of her back. “I can’t.”
“I should let you get back to the party.”
“I’ll walk you over.”
“You don’t have to.”
“That’s where the party is.”
“Oh. Right. Duh.”
She headed straight out the front door, across the porch, and then the yard. Dean had to hurry to catch up.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“To talk about Tim.”
“I didn’t mean here, here. I meant in Gainsville. You haven’t been to town in fourteen years, Stella. Why now?”
She seemed to shrink in on herself, though she made no movement beyond walking, ever forward and away.
“I think Tim will be fine,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to see each other, unless I run into you inadvertently.”
She’d completely ignored his question, and her words made him forget what he’d asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you don’t want to see me any more than I want to see you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Stella stopped at the edge of the cornfield and turned. “You said you couldn’t look at the places we’d been together and not remember.” She stared into his face. “Why do you remember? I’d have thought you forgot me the instant I walked out of your life forever.”
The Mommy Quest Page 5