Circle of Family

by Mia Ross

  Rolling her eyes, she laughed. “No doubt.”

  “Not you, though,” he continued, leaning against the counter in a casual pose. “How come?”

  “I’m very, very picky.”

  “Good. You should be.”

  Marianne couldn’t for the life of her imagine what he meant by that. Unfortunately, before she could ask, she became distracted by Kyle and his tangled shoulder pads.

  * * *

  “All right, Wildcats,” Charlie Simmons called out in his booming coach’s voice. The team gathered around him, and he continued. “First game is always tough, but you’ve all worked hard, and you’re ready. No matter who they line up opposite you, I want you to stand in there and hold your position. Watch each other’s backs, and if you see a teammate struggling, help ’em out.” He pointed across the field. “I want Kenwood to know they aren’t playing twenty-five separate players. They’re up against all of us as a team.”

  The players cheered, blowing some of the anxiety out of the nervous group. Ridge admired Charlie’s concise, upbeat speech. It was one of the best he’d ever heard.

  When the kids settled down, Charlie said, “Hands in, everybody.”

  Coaches and players each put a hand into the circle like the spokes of a wheel and bowed their heads. Although he’d been going to church on a regular basis, Ridge still wasn’t big on praying in public. He felt a little awkward doing it, but judging by the size of the Kenwood players, the Wildcats could use all the help they could get.

  “Heavenly Father,” Charlie began, “please watch over everyone on this field today. Keep them safe and help them to be proud of their efforts—win or lose. Amen.”

  The group murmured their response, and Charlie lifted his head. He connected with each kid in turn, then grinned at the whole group. “Now go out there and give me everything you’ve got.”

  With a shrill war cry that could only come from kids whose voices hadn’t changed yet, they stampeded toward their end zone to wait for team introductions. Their excitement was contagious.

  Ridge could almost feel the weight of his old helmet and shoulder pads, the new cleats his mother somehow always managed to buy. He didn’t know where the money came from, but even when he was young he knew she’d gone without something to get them for him. Thinking about that made him smile. She’d called earlier to wish him luck.

  “Make sure you record that game so I can see it,” she’d added.

  That was Mom, he mused as he strapped his digital recorder to the fence near midfield. No matter where he was or what he was doing, she was always behind him a hundred percent.

  As the announcer called the name and number of the first Wildcat, the hometown crowd jumped to their feet and went crazy. Ridge was thrilled to hear the same raucous support for everyone, from first-years to returning favorites. He had a hunch there’d be a few cases of laryngitis around town tomorrow.

  “Number 44,” the announcer shouted, “Kyle Weston!”

  The cheering ratcheted up a notch as Kyle calmly trotted out. He didn’t dance or hold out his arms as if they’d already won. He just joined his teammates on the fifty-yard line and turned to cheer for the next kid. Watching him made Ridge’s heart swell with pride. Kyle wasn’t his son, but football had forged a strong bond between them. Sharing this moment with Kyle meant the world to Ridge.

  Up in the stands, he found Marianne, clapping for all she was worth and shouting for each kid. She’d snaked her ponytail through the opening in the back of her hat, and the sun picked up the strands of honey in her hair. When she noticed him, her eyes were a shining, delighted blue he’d never seen. Then he realized they were filled with tears of joy.

  Thank you, she mouthed.

  He’d never seen such raw emotion from a woman at a football game. Often, they were texting or reading or looking around, completely bored. But this was a mother watching her son doing what he loved. When Ridge had offered to help with the team, he knew how important it was to Kyle. It hadn’t occurred to him that it would mean just as much to Marianne. The warmth in her gaze dove deep inside him, nudging itself into that place he’d felt while holding Emily this morning in church.

  Suddenly, Ridge wished he was standing beside Marianne, sharing this with her. Since that wasn’t possible, he nodded and grinned back. The brilliant smile he got in return just about knocked him off his feet, and that was when he knew.

  The beautiful and very complicated Marianne Weston had gotten under his skin. He was in big, big trouble.

  * * *

  Ruthy’s Place was packed.

  After beating the Kenwood Falcons 24–18, the entire Wildcats team and their fans descended on the diner, quickly filling it to capacity.

  Ruthy was prepared, Marianne noticed, from extra waitstaff to tables on the back deck and extra chairs around the bistro tables out front. Still, she hoped nobody was counting noses. The diner’s maximum capacity was 200, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they’d gone beyond that. Then she saw the fire marshal at the counter, clapping his grandson on the back while they waited for ice cream. Apparently, town fire codes were the furthest thing from his mind today.

  Luckily, the four of them had seats at one of the tables reserved for the team. Some folks were hanging around outside, waiting for their turn to order. Lisa paused only long enough to high-five her nephew.

  “Awesome game! Those Kenwood coaches will think twice next time they play you guys.”

  After zooming around the group to scribble down their orders, she rushed toward the kitchen to get them in line. A quick glance around showed Marianne that Lisa and the other waitresses were wearing sneakers instead of their usual 1940s-style shoes. Smart girls. Even with the extra help Ruthy had scheduled, by the time everyone left, those girls would feel like they’d run a marathon.

  “To our first win,” Ridge said, clinking glasses with her and the kids. Turning to Pamela Hodges, he generously included her and Danny. “Thanks for being a part of it.”

  “We’re gonna have seven more,” Danny informed him with a grin. “We’re going undefeated.”

  Ridge chuckled. “You keep running the way you did today, we just might.”

  “Thanks again for helping him, Coach Collins,” Pamela said.

  “Danny does the hard part, believe me. And it’s Ridge,” he added with that bright, friendly grin that seemed to be wired into his personality.

  Smiling, Pamela blushed and looked away to rearrange her silverware. It was painfully obvious that the shy woman had caught a bit of her son’s hero worship. Marianne had gotten used to having Ridge to herself, and she was just human enough to admit she didn’t like sharing him with another woman.

  Suddenly, she realized he was giving her an odd look.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. Just wondering how many people are here.” She did a quick scan of the crowd.

  “A bunch, that’s for sure.” His eyes cruised toward the door, and he frowned. “I think that dude is seriously lost.”

  Marianne followed his nod toward a tall man wearing a designer suit and tie. Apprehension snaked up her spine, but she forced herself to meet those dark, incisive eyes. He smiled, but it was a cool gesture without a shred of warmth in it. She didn’t want him pushing through the crowd to their table, so she motioned for him to wait outside.

  “I know him,” she explained as she stood. “I’ll go give him directions.”

  Ridge’s brow folded into a scowl. “Is something wrong? You’re white as a sheet.”

  “I’m fine.” Thankfully, Lisa showed up with their food, distracting him. “You stay here with the kids. I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  Ridge had never seen Marianne pushed off-stride, but she looked downright shaken as she weaved her way through the jam-packed dining room. Their ove
rdressed visitor greeted her, then opened the door for her to go ahead of him. From where Ridge sat, their reunion looked chillier than Glacier Bay in January.

  Emily didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but Kyle stared hard, not even bothering to cover his displeasure. Put simply, the kid looked furious. It was a stark contrast to the laughing conversation he’d been having with his teammates just a minute before.

  Ridge was about to ask what was going on when Emily tapped his arm. “May I have the ketchup, please?”

  “Sure, sweetness.”

  He handed it to her and made sure she had a couple of napkins covering her cheerleader’s skirt. He was no expert, but he figured it would be murder to get red stains out of the pleated white fabric. When she was set, he forked up some coleslaw and leaned to his left.

  “Who’s the suit?” he asked without looking at Kyle. It would give the boy a chance to ignore him if he’d rather. After a few awkward seconds, Kyle sighed.

  “My father.”

  Ridge almost choked. He carefully finished his mouthful of coleslaw, chasing it with a long slug of water.

  “I think that’s pretty much how Mom feels, too,” Kyle said quietly.

  Emily was engrossed in a Barbie debate with one of her friends, completely unaware that anything was wrong.

  Eyeing Kyle, Ridge asked, “How long has it been since you saw him?”

  “Five years, I guess. He left when Emmy was a baby, and we haven’t seen him since.”

  Ridge had heard pieces of this story already, but he was still appalled that Peter Weston had simply turned his back on his wife and children. “How’d you know it was him?”

  Kyle gave him a “get real” look, and he acknowledged it with a halfhearted chuckle. “Right. Sorry. You okay with him being here?”

  The kid shrugged, which Ridge had learned meant he didn’t like something but recognized there was nothing he could do about it. “As long as he doesn’t upset Mom, I don’t care.”

  Trying to look nonchalant, Ridge let his gaze wander to the tense scene framed by the side window. Judging by Marianne’s stiff posture, she was more than upset. He tried reading their lips but couldn’t piece together what they were saying.

  One thing he knew for sure. It wasn’t good.

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Marianne snarled, glancing around to be sure no one could hear them. Ruthy’s sidewalk, smack in the center of town, wasn’t the place she’d have chosen for this out-of-the-blue reunion. Since Peter hadn’t given her a choice, she figured it was as good a place as any to make her stand. She’d fought long and hard to get past the humiliation he’d dumped on her. She wasn’t about to let him drag her back into the mud.

  “I went by the farm but no one was home. When I drove back through town, I saw all the cars and thought you might be here. I want to see Kyle,” he added in the smooth, educated voice that had charmed her so completely the first time she met him. “It’s been a long time, and I miss him.”

  “You don’t even know him,” she seethed, grateful that the kids were facing away from the window. Feeling the heat in her face, she knew she looked furious.

  “I know,” he admitted with a sigh. “I’d like to change that.”

  As she struggled to get her mind wrapped around the fact that Peter was here, she tried to recall the last time she’d seen him. It was an afternoon in the park, and things had been very strained between them. While Kyle had been doing his best imitation of a monkey on the jungle gym, she and Peter had circled the playground with Emily’s stroller. Marianne recalled trying to come up with things to talk about. Even then, she suspected that the man who’d promised to love her until the end of his life had completely lost interest in her. And Emily.

  “What about your daughter?” she demanded. “Have you missed her, too?”

  “She was just a baby,” he scoffed. “She doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “She knows you left us, that you didn’t want her.”

  Or me, Marianne added silently. That prick of pain returned, but it wasn’t as strong as it used to be. While she couldn’t help wondering what had changed, she cautioned herself to stay focused. If she didn’t, Peter would overwhelm her completely and she’d turn into a stammering moron. She wasn’t the same timid, compliant doormat he’d married. He would find that out soon enough.

  The thought gave her some confidence, and she glared at him while he made an obvious attempt to calm her down.

  “Honey, you know things weren’t good between us. If I’d stayed, I’d just have been delaying the inevitable.”

  “When people have marriage trouble,” she informed him forcefully, “they at least try to work things out. Especially when they have children.”

  He took a step toward her, closing the distance she’d purposefully set between them. “Would you have tried?”

  His implication was insulting, and she fought to keep her voice steady. “Of course. You never gave me the chance.”

  He seemed to chew on that for a few seconds, then shrugged. “That’s water under the bridge now. I still want to see Kyle.”

  Not in this lifetime, she wanted to snap, but she caught herself. “That’s not my decision,” she said in her most reasonable tone. “It’s his.”

  Peter glanced through the window with a frown. “Do you think he’ll agree?”

  “I have no idea, and as you can see, now’s not a good time. Come out to the farm around four.”

  Not only would that get him off the sidewalk, it would give Marianne time to brace herself for his visit. Despite her tough stance, his ambush had shaken her right down to her toes.

  After considering that, he nodded and handed her an embossed business card. “My cell number is on there. I’m staying at the Executive Suites in Kenwood.”

  Of course he was. The quaint B&B outside Harland wasn’t upscale enough for his taste. Ridge, on the other hand, had been perfectly willing to camp out on John’s sofa for the last three months. She caught herself comparing the two of them and shook off the errant thought.

  Hoping to sound as if she couldn’t care less, she asked, “How long are you planning to stay?”

  Peter’s dark eyes narrowed, and she felt like she’d been sighted by a shark. A determined one. “Until I see my son.”

  As if on cue, they both turned and stalked in opposite directions. As Marianne entered the diner, she mentally congratulated herself. At least she hadn’t just stood there watching him walk away from her.

  * * *

  “I don’t wanna talk to him.” Kyle met his mother’s news with uncharacteristic stubbornness. “He ignored me all this time, now it’s my turn to ignore him.”

  Marianne had put Ridge in charge of occupying Emily, and they were coloring at the table. Fortunately, Emily didn’t seem the least bit interested in the tense conversation going on at the opposite end of the kitchen. Ridge, on the other hand, couldn’t help listening in. He could relate to how Kyle felt, and it took everything he had not to interfere. But this was Marianne’s family, so it was her decision. If it had been up to him, he’d have booted Peter Weston out of town without a second thought.

  “You don’t really mean to hurt your father,” she reasoned.

  “Yeah, I do. Let him see how he likes it.” He folded his arms to emphasize what Ridge thought was a valid argument. That a ten-year-old kid was making it blew him away.

  After a glance at Emily, Marianne focused back on Kyle. “I understand why you feel that way, but legally he has a right to see you.”

  “Aunt Caty’s a lawyer,” Kyle said hopefully. “Maybe she can make him go away.”

  Marianne’s downcast expression told Ridge that one had stung. Kyle hadn’t intended to insult her, but suggesting that she couldn’t protect him from his father was a virtual slap in the
face.

  Forget keeping to himself, Ridge decided. It was time to speak up.

  “This is America, Kyle,” he said without looking up from the castle he was coloring. “You can’t make anybody do anything.”

  “But it’s not fair!”

  “I know, but that’s how it is. Your mom doesn’t make the rules. She just follows them, like everybody else.”

  Kyle stomped from the kitchen and onto the back porch, whistling for Tucker.

  “Be back by four!” Marianne called after him. It was no surprise he took off on his bike without acknowledging her.

  Sighing, she turned to Ridge with a halfhearted smile. “Thanks for trying to help. I just don’t know how to talk to him about this.”

  “Nobody would.” With his bare foot, Ridge nudged a chair free for her. “Give him some space, and he’ll be fine. Guys are like that.”

  “I suppose.” Sitting down, she picked up a green crayon and started coloring in the hedges surrounding the princess’s garden. After a few minutes, she sighed again. “Peter really caught me off guard.”

  Ridge had a few choice words about that, but held off out of respect for his feminine company. “My guess is that was his plan.”

  “It would be his style,” she agreed in a pensive tone. “He likes to keep people guessing, says it gives him an edge in business. I used to like surprises,” she added with a wry grin. “Not so much anymore.”

  Ridge recalled the look on her face when he landed in their cornfield, then again when he offered to help coach Kyle’s team. Horrified came to mind. So did suspicious. Having seen her with her ex, it all made sense. The guy was intimidation dressed up in a nice suit.

  Tentatively, he said, “Can I ask you something that’s been bothering me for a while?”

  “Sure.” She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, resigned.

  “If it’s none of my business, just say so.” She sighed, and he took that as a cue for him to go on. “This guy’s obviously got money. What does he do?”

  “He’s a stockbroker.”