Seems Like Old Times

by Joanne Pence

  "It's nice."

  He nodded, then his gaze became hollow and Lee knew he thought of how empty his evenings would be if Catherine won her custody fight.

  o0o

  After the shower stop running, Tony waited about ten minutes before he went upstairs to be sure Ben was getting ready for bed.

  He stepped into Ben's room. "How are you doing, son?"

  Ben sat on his bed, his pajamas on, playing with a fleet of tiny automobiles. A long moment passed. "Fine." He hadn’t looked up when Tony entered, hadn’t looked up when his father spoke.

  Tony stood a moment watching him, then crossed the room and sat on his bed. "Lights out time."

  Big tears well up in Ben's eyes and the boy suddenly lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Tony's neck, holding on tight. "Thanks for fighting for me today, Dad."

  The words went straight to Tony’s heart and unshed tears stung his eyes as he held his son. "Don’t cry, Ben." He choked out the words. "Don’t worry. It’ll be all right."

  "I love you, Dad."

  Tony hugged his son hard, his eyes shut tight. "I love you, too, son. More than anything in the world."

  He held Ben a long time. There were few things that smelled so good or felt so squeaky clean as a just bathed little boy after a long, hard day of play. What would he do without Ben to hug? He sat beside him until Ben fell asleep, and for several minutes after that.

  o0o

  From the stairs, Tony saw Lisa below, kneeling on the floor of the living room, in front of his stereo system. His heart was heavy with worry over Ben, and having her here helped, probably more than she realized. He walked down a few steps. In a way, seeing her here, in this house, seemed so right it scared him. He descended more steps, hoping he would always remember how she looked there tonight, on the floor, flipping through his CD collection as if she belonged here. Her shoes were off, her skirt hiked up slightly baring long, shapely legs. She’d removed her jacket and under it she wore a gossamer-thin little nothing of a blouse that showed the fancy lace bodice of her slip.

  Throughout the summer months, he had replayed the night she'd spent in his home, his bed, until he thought he'd go nuts. He hadn’t known it was possible to miss a woman that much, or to want her so badly. He’d tortured himself with thoughts of her and her fancy boyfriend and what they were doing together. And then she had called.

  Hearing her voice, he was surprised he hadn't dropped the phone, or yelled at her for having waited so damned long! As much as he'd rearrange his whole week to be sure that Friday evenings he'd be home to get her call, he hated thinking about the other days of the week--especially Saturday night, when he'd picture her in great detail going somewhere with Magnifico Man, the nameless jerk she was supposedly engaged to. Her going somewhere with the guy was bad enough to imagine, but their returning back home was sheer torture.

  He nearly leaped through the phone with joy when she started hinting that things were not as they should be with the guy. Having her here, now, was proof that her other relationship was over. He knew Lisa. She wouldn't be with two men at once.

  Now, for a while at least, she had chosen him. And he’d fallen in love with her all over again. It wasn’t by choice, though. He had no choice about such things where Lisa was concerned. Never had. Not from the first time he'd laid eyes on her in a schoolyard by a bicycle stand.

  That didn’t mean he was unclear about the future. He knew it would end, just like last time. He knew that one of these times, when she left, she wouldn’t be back.

  "Hi." She looked up when he entered the room. "I was hoping you had some old songs."

  "You’ll have to look at the records. They’re in that cabinet. They're probably pretty scratchy, though."

  "Think we shouldn't play them? I wouldn't want to damage your phonograph needle."

  "No problem. I never play records anymore, just CD's or MP3’s."

  "So high tech, Mr. Santos." She saw the far off look in his eyes, and she knew what had put it there. "How’s Ben doing?"

  He rubbed his forehead. "He's pretty upset, poor little guy. It's surprising how much kids pick up even when you tell them there's nothing to worry about."

  "He knows you're trying your best to keep him," she said. "That's important."

  He sat on the chair near the stereo system. "I remember how proud I felt when I learned how much my own father wanted me."

  That surprised her. "I thought you were always with Vic."

  "No. The first four years of my life I never even saw him."

  "You never mentioned that."

  "I didn't like to talk about it. I understand it now, as an adult, but I didn't always."

  "Yes?"

  He smiled at her curiosity. "I've mentioned that my mother died in childbirth. Well, it was really hard on Vic. He left me with his sister, that's my Tia Maria, and took off. Even Tia didn't know where he was for a long time. She used to tell me stories about my father, that he was a great caballero, working with strong, beautiful horses all over the west."

  "And he didn't visit you?"

  "Not until I was four. I remember the day he finally arrived at Tia's farm. I buried my face in the heavy, brown skirt my aunt always wore and wouldn't look at him. She insisted, though, and when I finally looked, he scared the hell out of me."

  "I’m not surprised!" Lee's words came out a little more vehemently than she intended.

  Tony laughed. "He was frowning like the Devil. And he had this huge, black mustache covering his top lip."

  "And here I thought he only frowned at me," Lee said wryly.

  Tony chuckled. "Vic had no idea what to say or do around a kid--at least not his own kid. So he just stared and scowled. He told me later that he saw my mother in my face and my eyes and it made him feel bad for leaving me. All I remember is that his eyes got all watery, then he asked Tia what he should say to me. She said, 'Tell him you love him, you big peasant.' I couldn't believe my Tia would talk to this fierce man that way. He didn't seem to mind, though."

  "He probably knew she was right," Lee murmured. The thought of Vic Santos being intimidated had its appeal.

  "I guess. He just lowered himself onto his knees and looked me in the eye. No words came. But as we looked at each other, it hit me that this big, ugly man was my father...my father...and I walked over to him. He lifted me up. His arms were like mallets. But I felt good, and secure. Maybe for the first time in my life. I liked the feeling. I always wanted Ben to know it, too."

  Lee's eyes grew misty as she listened to his story. She nodded. She'd known that feeling once, long ago, but then it had died...her father had died. And she'd forced herself to forget.

  "He took me with him," Tony said. "I was only four, but I lived on the range with my father and the other ranch hands. When I started school, he had to take care about the jobs he took--to be sure there was a school nearby. But we were always together."

  "Like you and Ben."

  His eyes clouded. "Like me and Ben."

  She covered his hand. "You'll continue to be. I know it. I believe it."

  He shut his eyes, his shoulders slumped. He withdrew his hand, and seemed to withdraw all of himself into a shell of fear of losing Ben.

  She quickly flipped through the records again, needing to take his mind off the ugliness of the day. "Say, look at this." She held up Johnny Mathis's Chances Are album. "Remember how, at parties, when it'd get late, we'd stop playing the Van Halen or Def Leopard and put on these old songs?"

  He stood beside her, looking down, and took the record. His face was still haunted by the day's events. "There must be a couple of decades of teenagers who learned all about 'making out' to these songs."

  "Let's listen."

  His eyebrows went up slightly, then he removed the album jacket, blew on the record to remove any loose dust, and put it on the turntable. "I hope my heart can take it," he muttered.

  A nasal, quavery voice, breathy and emotional, singing "Chances Are" came over the speakers. With
her older, more sophisticated ear, she realized that the singer wasn't the Pavarotti she used to think he was, nonetheless she felt a thrill go right up her spine as the familiar music filled the room.

  Tony turned off all the lights but one lamp, then he held out his hand to her, and drew her to her feet to dance with him.

  Her breath caught as his arms went around her, and she nestled her head against his. She shut her eyes, drinking in the feel and scent of him, hoping her warmth, her touch, could help ease his pain. This was where she wanted to be, since the day she left Miwok, months ago. Maybe years ago. She didn't deny it, couldn't deny it anymore. Under her ear she could feel his pulse drum strongly through his body. It’s cadence matched the own.

  He slowly led her around the room and as they passed the lamp, he switched it off altogether.

  "Just like high school," she said.

  "Even better." He kissed her.

  As "A Certain Smile" began, he lowered her to the sofa, then stretched out beside her.

  His mouth sought hers then he unbuttoned her blouse and rolled on top of her. "You don't know how often I wanted to do this back then."

  "Be careful of what you hope for," she warned, her voice a thick whisper, her skin tingling and alive where his fingers brushed. "It just might come true."

  "If you're lucky enough." His mouth trailed along the curve of her jaw to her throat then back to her mouth as he took her heart, her mind, in a long, demanding kiss.

  Her smile was wobbly when they both came back up for air. "Would you like to go upstairs? You'll be more comfortable," she said. Her hands pulled his shirt free of his slacks, then unbuttoned it and pushed it aside to stroke the hot, muscled skin.

  "Uh uh." He kissed her eyelids, then her nose. "Even after all these years--this music, and Lisa Marie Reynolds half-dressed beneath me on the sofa. God, it's everything I'd ever dreamed of as a teenager. Almost," he added rakishly.

  Her eyes widened in surprise a moment, then she laughed huskily. His hands surrounded the sides of her face as his mouth lowered possessively, as if she were his girl again, as if she’d always been his girl.

  A hot, wild rush of desire swelled through her. She yanked his shirt off, tugging at his belt as he did the same to her blouse, her skirt.

  He was lifting her slip to pull it over her head when he saw she was wearing that sexy garter belt again, and silk stockings. If he didn’t have a strong heart, they’d be his undoing. He liked very much the fact that he alone knew the sexiness under Lisa’s proper suit.

  He drew back and removed the belt and stockings.

  He took in every inch of her. She was willow thin and so fair he wouldn’t have believed she was real except that he knew her so well. Knew every inch of her, committing her to memory for the lonely days and nights ahead.

  He bent over her, tasting her, starting with her breasts then working his way lower, slowly, slowly, until he shattered her world.

  After a while, her eyes opened, dazed with pleasure, to find him propped on an elbow looking down at her. "I’ve never seen you more beautiful," he whispered.

  She held her arms open for him. He held himself above her, then slowly lowered himself. "Look at me, Lisa," he demanded. "Know it’s me. It’s always been me."

  It’s always been you, Tony, her heart answered. Always.

  Chapter 24

  Tony's lawyer called the next morning. The judge's decision was due in an hour, which meant that the judge felt it was a clear cut case. But whether it was clear cut in favor of motherhood, apple pie--and money--or of a caring, loving father, they'd have to wait to find out.

  Lee stood beside Tony as he put the phone back in his pocket. "It's coming in."

  "The decision?"

  "I've got to meet my attorney in an hour."

  "Would you like me to go with you?"

  His dark eyes met hers. "No."

  "Vic, at least, should be there. I’ll stay here, in case you two are still out when Ben gets home from school."

  He shook his head. "I'm not telling Vic. I'd like to be alone when I hear. Just in case." He walked to the stairs. "If the decision is bad, I don't really know what I'll do. Okay?"

  Don’t face this alone, Tony. Please. She was suddenly afraid--of the outcome, of his reaction if it’s bad, of his temper, his despair. But she said nothing.

  Minutes later he reappeared wearing a gray suit, white shirt, and yellow and gray striped tie. It seemed wrong to her that he had to dress up and look so handsome to go hear a verdict that could rip out his heart.

  She hugged him as he stepped toward the door, and a shudder went through her. Someone’s walking on your grave, Miriam liked to say. Whether it was a premonition or not, she didn't know. All she knew was that the gaze he cast on her was forlorn, and that when he left, her heart went with him,

  She called Miriam to tell her where she was, and not to worry, then she sat down to wait for his return.

  What would he do if the verdict went against him? It couldn’t happen. No judge would take Ben from him. She ran her hand over the warm red floral upholstery of the sofa. This ranch, this house, were wonderful places to raise a boy. There was so much love here, the very walls throbbed with it.

  Her love was here as well.

  She'd fought it, but from the time she first saw Tony, standing on a minuscule Little League baseball field, wearing a red Bruins and figuring out "who's in the hole," her heart was his. It was as if she'd never stopped loving him. That must have been why no one else ever really mattered. Her relationship with Bruce wasn't love. It was a business proposition. They'd used each other to get ahead.

  She could admit that now. As he often said, he was one of the most eligible bachelors around--a power job, money, youth and knock-out good looks on top of it. People's heads turned when she'd walk into the room with Bruce on her arm. It felt good. But it wasn't love.

  Love was what she felt around Tony. Just to look at him made her smile inside. They could talk or be silent with equal comfort. She wanted to tell him everything she did and thought, and wanted to hear the same from him. When he hurt, she hurt. When he bled, she bled. And when he felt joy, she felt joy.

  The way Tony felt about her...her heart told her it was a lot more than lust, more than old times--that it was love or the next best thing.

  Where it would lead, though, was beyond her ken. She didn’t know, didn’t want to even think about it. Tony had a strange caution around her. He never talked about how he felt, or their future. Maybe it was because of Ben and the uncertainty in his life. Or, maybe it was something deeper. An uncertainty about her. About their past.

  What did it matter? She had her life on one coast; he had his life on the other. She had worked too many years to become Lee Reynolds to give it up. She loved her work. Could he leave his? Come with her? Could he be happy doing that? Living in New York City? Going to Sissy Springfield’s parties? She was filled with doubt, and very little hope.

  Vic Santos opened the back door and walked in.

  "Hello." Her tone was tentative.

  He grunted in greeting. "Where's Tony?"

  "The lawyer called. The decision is being issued. Tony went to meet him."

  Vic nodded, then turned to go back outside.

  "Mr. Santos, wait, please." She stepped closer.

  He stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

  She lifted her chin. "I don't know what I did to make you dislike me so much, but whatever it was, I am sorry. I hope we can get along. For Tony's sake, if not our own."

  He faced her squarely, "I've known a lot of people like you. Everything with you is your plans, your hope, your dreams. But you don't give nothing. I'm gonna be glad when you go back to your job. I just hope Tony can forget you like he did before. So, no, I don't want to 'get along' with you. I don't even like you."

  He stalked out the door.

  o0o

  Hours passed before Tony's car pulled into the driveway. He remained seated a moment, not moving
. After a while, he slowly opened the door and climbed out. Gone was the bounce in his step, the easy, carefree manner that was Tony. Lee pressed her hand to her heart. She knew.

  He walked into the house without a word. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the glazed look in his eyes. She followed him into the living room, saying nothing as she watched him take off his jacket and tie and toss them onto a chair.

  "Is it over?" she asked.

  "Yes. Very straightforward." He stepped around her, not looking at her or touching her, and went down the hall to the kitchen. She followed.

  He opened a kitchen cabinet and took out a bottle of bourbon, then got a small glass. "Would you like some?" he asked, his back to her.

  She shook her head, then realized he wasn't watching. "No." Her voice was a dry croak.

  His hand shook as he poured the drink. He took a large swallow then waited, still facing the counter. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and she pulled her hand away again.

  "She won?" Lee asked, and yet knowing.

  He nodded.

  "Tell me about it."

  "What's to tell?" He finished his drink. "Ben can spend holidays with me. But throughout the school year, he's with her."

  "You can appeal."

  "Sure. And listen to some other judge tell me Ben's better off with his mother. The pompous bastard said he had to think of the boy's future--that with Catherine he could go to the best schools and have endless opportunities that I could never give him. He made it sound as if I should have stayed in baseball where there were money and connections." He faced her and the pain and anger in his face was terrible. "I willingly gave it up to make a home for Ben. That meant nothing. All that mattered was money, connections and the 'cultural mainstream of society.'"

  She shut her eyes a moment, unable to look at the raw agony in his. "I see," she whispered.

  He slammed his fist against the counter, his shoulders heaving with each breath. "I'm glad you do, 'cause I sure as hell don't." His control was on the edge. His voice shook with rage and frustration. "What more could I do? God damn all of them! What the hell does it take to be able to keep my own son?"