“Cool. I’m on the Homecoming Committee, and we’re doing an old-fashioned Battle of the Bands this year.”
Donnie smiled. “Suddenly I feel much older than I did before you got here.”
“Sorry. Gotta go. See you at work.”
Work. Student interns like Bethany added so much to the department. If Donnie was sheriff, he’d expand the program, not bully the kids like Magnus did. The sheriff was extremely short-tempered with clerks.
“I’m off the rest of this week, you know,” he told her. “Then I go on nights.” Unless Magnus fires me.
She frowned. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. But I’ll see you when you come to the engagement party, right?”
The words made his stomach turn over completely. Weddings were about happy parties, congratulations, rings and vows. Very different from what he had offered Kris.
“Donnie? You’re going to be there, right?”
He pushed the thought away and smiled. “Sorry. What party? I’m out of the loop.”
“Cory’s bringing her to the office Friday afternoon for cake and punch. I wasn’t going to go, but Margie asked me to help.”
And you want to see her. He understood. “Well, I might just have to drop by to check her out.”
Bethany whipped her scooter around so it faced the other direction then put one foot on the running board. “I’d better get home. I have a ton of makeup work. That’s the bad part about being home sick.” Looking back over her shoulder, she called out, “’Bye. See you Friday.”
Donnie walked into the garage. A song he liked—“What’s Love Got to Do With It?” by Tina Turner—was playing on the radio. He turned up the volume, then picked up the old guitar and strummed a few chords.
“Where’d you get that?” a voice asked.
Donnie pivoted. Lucas was standing in the doorway. “Good morning and happy birthday, son.” Donnie would have taken the boy into his arms and hugged him if not for the wary, defensive set of his shoulders.
“It’s my guitar. I found it in the shed. Didn’t you use it for a while before you decided you prefer the bass?”
Lucas nodded.
“My friend Bethany Murdock was just here. She’s a junior. Do you know her?”
“Her sister’s in sixth.”
“She mentioned Homecoming. Something about a battle of the bands.”
An unmistakable gleam of interest suddenly appeared in his son’s eyes. Lucas had started talking about forming a band ever since he’d picked up his first guitar.
“Maybe you could check around. See if anybody wants to jam. The gig’s still a few weeks away.”
“Won’t happen.”
“How come?”
“Jorry broke his wrist. He played lead.”
“I might know somebody,” Donnie said. He fingered a C-chord and ran his plastic pick over the strings.
“Who?” Lucas asked suspiciously.
“I’d rather not say until I talk to him first. He might not be interested.”
Fortunately the sound of a car in the driveway saved Donnie from further interrogation. “That must be Kris and Zach.” He started to motion Lucas forward, when he discovered his son had disappeared.
He set down the guitar. With a silent prayer, he went to greet his guests.
“Hi,” he called, wiping his hands on his jeans. He’d gone for casual—T-shirt, faded work-around-the-house jeans and ratty tennis shoes. Kristin was just the opposite: a hunter-green skirt of some soft fabric that came to her mid-shins, an undershirt of the same color with a bright, gauzy overblouse that looked as if she’d fallen into a pile of autumn leaves. Her feet were in flat slippers that gave her a delicate look.
“Thanks for coming, Zach.” To Kris, he said, “You look very pretty this morning.”
Her cheeks colored. “Thanks.” She quickly thrust a plastic-wrapped plate at him.
Donnie fought a grin. He’d never seen her so nervous. If her son hadn’t been at her side, he’d have hugged her. “Mmm…cookies. What kind? Not that I’m choosy.”
“Chocolate chip. Zach’s favorite. I made them for Lucas. Today’s his birthday, right?”
Donnie had started to pry up a section of plastic covering aside, but stopped. “That was thoughtful of you.”
A mischievous grin appeared on her lips, and she produced a single cookie from behind her back. “I thought you should test one—to make sure he’ll like them.”
He was touched. He polished off the cookie in three bites and handed the plate back to her. “Delicious. He’ll love them.”
He turned slightly to usher her ahead of him. “Let’s go inside. You can give them to him.”
Zach followed a few feet behind. He was a good-looking kid—nose ring aside. His hair was long and, like Lucas’s, had been partitioned with some kind of stiffening agent.
At the front entry, Maureen’s gold- and rust-colored chrysanthemums provided a cheerful welcome. “You might not recognize the place, Kris. Sandy and I did a lot of remodeling after we moved in.” The door was painted the same as the trim—a deep bluish-gray. He had to jiggle the latch to get it to open. “We don’t use this door a lot,” he explained, wiping his feet on a sisal welcome mat.
“Most people come through the garage, and there’s a separate entrance to Mom’s apartment. She never used it, but we thought it was a good idea for resale purposes,” he said, holding open the door for his guests.
Kristin entered first, looking around as she passed a few inches from him. This time he inhaled. Damn. Same perfume, and just as intoxicating as he remembered.
Zach followed a step or two behind. He moved in a shuffling gait, head down and hands stuffed in the pockets of his baggy jeans. Lucas wore the same style pants, low on his hips, frayed at the heels.
“This is the living room, Zach,” he said. “Your mother used to come over a lot when we were kids.” The south-facing windows gave the room a warm, cheerful feel. Maureen’s decorating touches—a basket of dried flowers, candles and magazines—were homey. “We added a family room off the kitchen when we built Mom’s apartment. Bedrooms and bathrooms are that way.”
He started toward the family room.
“This is okay,” Zach said. “Bigger than our last place.” He looked at Donnie. “Where did you say the bathroom was?”
“Second door on the right,” Donnie replied, pointing down the hall.
As she watched the boy walk away, Kris’s shoulders slumped.
“What’s wrong?” Donnie asked in a low voice.
“It just hit me that if we get married, I’ll be living in this huge house with two boys. What if I can’t handle it?”
“You’ll be fine, Kris. The house is obviously well lived in, so you don’t have to worry about keeping it pristine. Plus,” he added with a grin, “I’ll be here to help.”
Kristin shook her head, which made her pretty, loose curls dance. “Where is Lucas?”
“In his room.” Donnie walked to a door adorned with a very large stop sign. He rapped hard enough to be heard over the discordant sounds coming from inside.
A few seconds later the door opened and the pulsing beat of hip-hop music poured out. Donnie was used to the volume, but Kristin took a step backward.
Donnie motioned toward the stereo on the bookshelf. “Down,” he mouthed. Lucas complied—slowly.
Donnie marshaled his patience. Lucas could push his buttons faster than a belligerent drunk, but Donnie was getting better at ignoring the attitude. He motioned Kristin to join him.
“Lucas, this is Kristin Sullivan. Kris—” he put his hand at the small of her back and urged her to step forward “—my son, Lucas.”
The two shook hands. “Happy birthday, Lucas,” Kristin said, handing him the plate of cookies.
Donnie prayed his son’s manners would kick in.
Lucas mumbled a barely audible, “Thanks.” And reached for the plate.
If it hadn’t been Lucas’s birthday, Donnie might have taken the calorie-laden goodies
from his son’s hand. But he didn’t.
“Son, we’d like you to join us in the kitchen so we can talk. Okay?”
A thick hunk of black hair moved slightly, apparently signifying compliance.
Donnie followed Kristin out of the room. They didn’t say anything, but he could sense her nervousness. They found Zach standing at the bay window, which afforded a panoramic view of the town’s namesake, Gold Creek.
Kris joined him. “Pretty, isn’t it? I always liked this room.” She pointed to something outside. “Look. There’s a rabbit. Sarge would love it here, wouldn’t he?”
Zach didn’t respond, but Donnie had a feeling that’s exactly what the boy was thinking.
“You should have brought Sarge with you,” he said.
Zach flashed his mother a telling look. She grimaced. “You were right. I was wrong. I’m sorry,” she said with a frown.
The boy shrugged and moved away. Donnie motioned for them to follow him. “I made coffee. And there are soft drinks. Let’s sit at the table.”
They were seated when Lucas joined them. He took the chair farthest from everyone and barely made eye contact when Donnie introduced him to Zach.
An awkward silence fell over the table. Donnie took the lead. He had the most explaining to do.
“Lucas, while you were gone I did a lot of thinking about what’s important to me. You’re number one.” He ignored his son’s skeptical sound. “I only agreed to let you move to L.A. because that’s what you wanted. I know you were looking forward to it, and I’m really sorry it didn’t happen. For your sake.”
Lucas shrugged.
“Your plan to go live in L.A. made me take a hard look at my life. I didn’t like what I saw. I was miserable at work and grumpy at home. I don’t know how you and Grandma put up with me.”
That brought a small reaction. Donnie went on. “I used to love going to work. I felt as though I was doing some good, but when Sheriff Brown took office things changed. I didn’t like my job—or myself—very much. That’s why I applied to the Air Marshals. I needed a change.”
He paused for a breath. “Luckily for me, your mom decided to go to Africa, and I got a second chance to do what I should have done four years ago—run for sheriff. If I win, I’ll be able to help Gold Creek, instead of leaving it.”
Kristin’s smile felt like an A-plus grade.
“So why marry my mom? I thought you needed a housekeeper to take care of your kid,” Zach asked.
Lucas bristled. “I don’t need no baby-sitter.”
Donnie leaned forward to make eye contact with Zach. “I fell in love with your mother when I was not much older than you.”
Zach’s elaborate shrug said “So?”
“If I do this—run for office—it’s going to mean nine weeks of intense campaigning. I can’t do it alone, Zach. It wouldn’t be fair to Lucas. I need your mother.”
“Hire her. We could use the money.”
The boy was bright. “Then she’d be working here and you’d be alone. That wouldn’t look good to the courts.”
When Zach didn’t say anything else, Donnie added, “I know this seems sudden. But I love your mother, Zach. I think we’d be good for each other. All four of us.”
Kristin spoke first. She addressed Lucas directly. “Lucas, how do you feel about your dad and me getting married?”
Donnie held his breath as he waited for his son’s reply. Lucas looked at his father, then shifted his gaze to the other side of the table. “Why do you care what I think? You’re going to do whatever you want. Adults always do.”
“I’m sure it seems that way, but in this case, I want to know how you feel. Your dad will be busy with the election. That means you and Zach and I will be here together. I’m not expecting us to be one big happy family, but we’ll need to get along.”
Lucas didn’t so much as blink.
Donnie saw Kristin’s lips tighten as though she might be fighting back tears. “Zach, you’ve had more time to think about this. What are your feelings?” he asked.
“I think the whole thing sucks. Your kid is right, though. You two are going to do what you want regardless of how we feel, so why don’t you just cut the bullshit?”
“Zach,” Kristin said sharply.
He jumped to his feet. “Forget it. I’m outta here.”
“Zach, please,” his mother said. “Running away never solved anything. Aren’t I proof of that?”
To Donnie’s surprise, the question stopped Zach in his tracks. “Aren’t you even going to try to work something out with my dad?”
Donnie braced for her answer.
“There’s nothing to work out—except where you’re concerned. Besides, like I told you, Tyler and I were never meant to be together. I’m sorry, but I can’t change that, sweetheart.”
His face contorted in anger. “Can’t? Or won’t?” He walked toward the foyer then paused in the doorway. “Live here if you want. I’m going to my dad’s.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
KRISTIN COULDN’T FEEL her heart beating. She figured her body was on automatic pilot because she was still breathing, but her brain had turned off. It was the only way to stand the pain of losing her son.
“He doesn’t mean it,” Donnie said, taking her arm when she started to race after Zach. “Let him cool down. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset, right, son?”
“I guess,” Lucas said with a careless shrug.
“But this isn’t like Zach,” Kristin said, trying to pry Donnie’s fingers loose.
A part of her needed to find Zach and apologize, but a part of her craved Donnie’s rock-solid assurance that her world wasn’t going to end.
Donnie squeezed her hand. “He’ll come around, Kris. He just needs to blow off a little steam.”
“I don’t think so. He’s never been this angry.” Maybe he’s right not to forgive me this time.
“Lucas, please get Kristin a glass of water and bring it outside. She needs some fresh air.” Donnie put an arm around her shoulders and led her through the house to the patio. “I want you to wait here while I go look for Zach. Will you do that?”
Kristin squinted against the bright sunlight. He guided her to a two-person redwood glider tucked in a nook created by a grouping of shoulder-high photinia bushes. The sun had warmed the padded cushion, and she sank into it.
Donnie left but returned a minute later with a chenille throw. “When I find him, I’ll give him a chance to vent. On me. I’m as much to blame for this situation as you are.”
Kristin knew that wasn’t true. True to form, she’d blown it again.
Donnie squatted in front of her and took her chin between his thumb and index finger. “Kristin, look at me.”
She pushed his hand away. She saw the compassion—the understanding—in his eyes. He was offering to share the burden she’d carried for so long alone, but she couldn’t accept. “I’m sorry, Donnie. This isn’t going to work. I can’t marry you. Not if Zach—”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Let Lucas know if you need anything.”
He left her then. Kristin pulled her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth. The glider provided a comforting jiggle and she closed her eyes to think.
What a mess. How had life gotten so complicated? She needed to take Zach and go back to Jenny’s little house. She’d focus on building up her business and trying to bring some joy back in her son’s life. And she’d pray that Tyler wouldn’t make the upcoming custody battle too awful.
Yes, a part of her wanted to marry Donnie—even if it was for the wrong reasons. But she couldn’t risk alienating her son.
And what about Lucas? she wondered. Zach had reacted so fast, they hadn’t even heard from Donnie’s son.
Her first impression of the boy had reminded Kristin of herself at age ten. He seemed so alone. Despite two sisters, Ida Jane and a town full of pseudogodparents, Kristin had often felt isolated.
&n
bsp; She’d gone through all the motions—pep squad, volleyball, French club, but she’d never quite fit in.
“Would you be…like…my stepmom?” a voice asked from the doorway of the patio.
Kristin looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard the sliding door open. Lucas advanced slowly, carrying a glass of water. She furtively wiped away the tear trails on her cheeks and said, “Don’t worry, honey. I don’t think your dad and I are getting married. I can’t force this on Zach—not after all he’s been through.”
He didn’t say anything. His eyes—so like Donnie’s—looked troubled. Stopping an arm’s length away, he handed her the glass.
“Thanks,” she said and took a sip. She smiled at him. “I had hoped we might be friends,” she said. “Stepmother has such an ugly ring to it.” Her attempted humor fell woefully short of the mark.
He dropped his chin, letting his hair cover his forehead and eyes. He reminded her of her old sheepdog, Daisy. The likeness almost made her smile.
“It’s stupid to get married because your kid needs a baby-sitter.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “You don’t want it either, huh?” It was hard to keep the tears back, but she tried. She was the adult here.
“Well…I’d hate a nanny more. Nannies are for babies. Why can’t my grandma come back? She’s cool, and we get along pretty good.”
“Your grandmother and I bumped into each other at the bank before she left. You’re right. Maureen is cool and she looks great.”
“She works out. The doctor said she has high cholesterol.”
The length of this conversation amazed her. Was he curious or lonely? Kris was afraid to move lest she scare him away. “How’s her sister doing? Maureen went to help your dad’s aunt, right?”
Lucas ventured a step closer. He pretended to be engrossed in peeling chipped paint off the upright post that supported the overhang. “Okay, I guess. Grandma likes to help people. Last year, she volunteered in the library at school.”
“I used to work in Zach’s classroom. I loved it.”
“My mom baked cookies—in, like, first and second grade, but…she doesn’t cook much anymore. Mostly we eat out.”
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