Betting on Hope (24 page)

And there was that water fight in the pool. The thought of it—of Tanner’s hands and shoulders and lips and tongue—made her flush. Even now he sat there so quietly, while he gently stroked his thumbs over the back of her hand.

She sighed, feeling her chest compress. She swallowed.

“My father is Derek McNaughton,” she began. “You probably figured that out by now, even though I lied when you asked me.”

Tanner nodded, still holding her hand.

“When I was a kid, maybe starting when I was five, he took me around to the card rooms he played in and showed me off.”

“When you were
five?
How did he do that? You can’t take kids into the casino card rooms,” Tanner said.

Hope nodded. “They were private games. Games where he could also cheat if he wasn’t winning legitimately. At first I think I was sort of a novelty for him, but then he taught me poker and I caught on really fast. He put me in a game when I was six or seven, if you can believe that, and I won. After that, he put me in games all the time, and suddenly I was a—star, I guess.”

She took a sip of her drink, wishing the cramp in her stomach would go away, knowing that it wouldn’t.

“I had the best time,” she said, shaking her head. “Me and my dad. Playing poker with him in those rooms seemed like such a huge adventure. I felt so special. Everybody thought I was cute. My dad bragged about me. I was on cloud nine all the time. I lived to go to the poker rooms.”

“Sounds like you had fun,” Tanner said. “So what happened?”

“As I got older, I won more. Derek won less. By the time I was twelve or thirteen I was winning more than he was and—”

“Did he keep your winnings?” Tanner interrupted. His voice had taken on a steely edge.

“Yes, but that wasn’t it. He was welcome to the money. It was—” Hope stopped, hearing with shame the quaver in her voice. She took a deep breath, then another, getting a grip, and went on.

“After I started to win some serious money, he started to not come home sometimes,” she said. “The first time he was gone for about a week, and we were all frantic. Mom was sick with worry. She called all the hospitals, the cops. And then he just turned up. Everything was fine. What were we so upset about, that’s what he asked. And over the next couple of years, he’d stay away longer and longer. Months at a time. We never knew where he went.”

“Couldn’t Marty have helped you?”

“I think Marty did try to get Derek to come home. But—Derek stayed away longer and longer. The more and better I played, the longer he stayed away.”

“Hope, don’t—” Tanner said, knowing what was coming, and not wanting her to have to say it.

“And I thought I’d done something to make him mad. Maybe I didn’t win enough. Or I wasn’t cute enough any more. I didn’t know why he stayed away, I just knew it was because of something I’d done.” Hope felt her stomach contract so sharply, it was like a knife to her abdomen. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together as she felt tears pool in her eyes, her throat thicken.

Would she never get over this?
Everything had happened
seventeen
years ago. She was an adult now. She should be in better control. She took a deep, careful breath, the pain making her hiccup. She was holding Tanner’s hand now, gripping so hard her fingers ached.

“I thought that if I showed him how smart I was, if I just
tried harder
, he’d love me like he used to, back when it was fun, and he’d come home and he’d love me.”

She felt her face crumple at the memory. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she brushed them away.

“I know it’s stupid,” she said, her voice quavering.

“It’s not stupid,” Tanner said, his voice tight.

“So for my fifteenth birthday—he’d been gone maybe six or seven months by then. But he’d never missed my birthday. Ever. Mom baked a big cake and fired up the barbecue and had balloons and decorations, and I waited out at the front gate until it was dark, but he never came. And I never saw him again.”

Tanner laced her fingers in his.

“Hope, he is a worthless, selfish—” he began.

“I know,” Hope said, sniffing. “I’ve told myself that, I
know
it’s true, but inside I just feel that our family fell apart because of me. That if I’d done something differently, been a better card player, or maybe just a better person, more lovable somehow—that he would have loved me more and stayed with us. I still get sick to my stomach about it.”

“No kid should think they have to earn their parent’s love,” Tanner said, his voice harsh. “You must
know
it wasn’t your fault.”

“In my head, I know that, but not in my gut,” she said. “In my head, I know he would have gone anyway. Maybe sooner, if I hadn’t played cards and made him look good. But I’m still a basket case about it. And then he never came back, so without the winnings he and I had brought in, we got poor, so I worried about that, too. I got a job after school to help out, and we’re doing a lot better now.”

“You didn’t
wreck
your family at fifteen,” Tanner said gently. “You’ve been trying to
save
your family since then.”

“Well, mom held us together, and I did what I could,” Hope said. “I’ve been able to help Faith with her business ventures, and I put a little something aside every month for the future. But that’s why birthdays are hard. And the
really
bad part is, there are so many of them.”

She smiled, a little wanly, feeling exhausted. She slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes as tears of hurt and anger and loss trickled down her face.

Now he knew
.

She heard Tanner get out of his chair. She opened her eyes as he kneeled before her. His face was just inches from hers. He cradled her head in both his hands, his eyes tender, his thumbs gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. But his voice was harsh, tight with control, when he spoke.

“I’ve played cards with your father a couple of times, and I’ve always known he’s not much of a poker player,” he said. And now I know he’s a crappy human being, too. It’s cruel and cowardly to desert a family like that.”

“I know,” Hope said without much energy.

“The first thing we have to do is work on that birthday problem of yours. Starting today, we’re going to have lots of unbirthday parties with lots of presents. Positive reinforcement, that’s the ticket.”

Hope smiled, more strongly this time. “That’s a nice idea, but—”

“We had a nice party atmosphere in the pool, for example,” Tanner said, his eyes suddenly wicked.

Hope felt herself flush under his hands. She tried to pull back, but he didn’t let her go.

“That’s different,” she said. “We can’t—”

“I’m pretty sure we can have a party atmosphere anywhere we want,” Tanner said, grinning at her. “The patio, for example.” And leaning into her, he kissed her, calling her bluff.

“See?” he said, when they came up for air.

Hope smiled. “You’re right,” she said, feeling dazed. “It’s party time.”

“My dress shrank a little in the dryer,” Hope said, coming into the living room and tugging down on the bodice.

Tanner looked up from putting on his sandals and smiled at her, that devastating smile that made her want to kiss him in the pool or on dry land—anywhere, in fact.

“It fits perfectly,” he said. “Stop pulling on it. That dress looked fantastic on you before, but it was a little big. Now it looks the way it should.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are impossible,” she said, but she smiled.

Tanner stood up, checking his pockets for his keys as he moved toward the door. “We should go,” he said.

“I’ll be late,” she agreed, picking up her purse.

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “That’s not quite what I meant,” he said. “You have plans for the afternoon, and you really should play tonight. So for today, time is not on our side.”

He put his hand on her hip and leaned down to kiss her on the neck, a soft kiss that sent a shiver down her spine. Then he put his lips against her ear, his voice so soft, it was a whisper against her skin.

“Just so you know, pumpkin. I’m willing to wait until we have all the time we could want. Because when we go on our first picnic, we won’t want to rush it. There will be lots of things we’ll want to try, and plenty of tastes we’ll want to sample.”

Hope leaned into him, feeling dizzy and breathless.

“Can’t be rushed,” she said.

“Definitely not,” Tanner said softly, kissing her again, gently nipping her ear. “When we go on our first picnic, we’ll need plenty of time to savor the potato salad.”

Chapter 18

The next morning when Hope shuffled yawning into the kitchen, wearing her thin summer shortie pajamas and a ratty robe, she saw Amber standing on a step stool by the counter and two men in dusty overalls drinking coffee at the table. She stopped abruptly.

“Aunt Hope, can I ask you something?” Amber asked.

“Sure, honey, what is it? And who are your friends here?”

“Scuse us, ma’am,” the older one said, putting down his cup. “Your sister gave us a cup of coffee. We’re surveyors.”

“
Surveyors?
You’re surveying this property? For Big Julie Saladino?”

“That’s right,” the younger man said, eyeing Hope’s scanty attire. “He sold it to some big developer, is what we been told.”

“Not yet, he hasn’t,” Hope said, her voice tight. “Get out of here right now. Get out and don’t come back.”

The older man stood up.

“We gotta finish—”

“No, you don’t,” Hope said, stomping over to the back door and flinging it open. “The place isn’t sold yet, and I don’t want to see you around here again until it is.”

“Well, excu-u-u-u-se me,” the younger one drawled.

“We’re sorry if we stepped in it,” the older one said. “Your sister—”

“My sister isn’t here now. I’m here. And I’m telling you to go.”

“We’re going,” the younger one said. “But we’ll be back.”

“Over my dead body!” Hope called after them as they sauntered away.

“Hell of a body,” the younger one said, winking at her.

Hope flushed and slammed the screen door behind them, but it didn’t catch, bouncing back open again, and Squeegee dashed into the kitchen when she saw the opportunity.

Hope sighed in exasperation.

“Some watch dog you are,” she said, bending down to scratch the dog’s ears. Squeegee wriggled in ecstasy and leaped up, bashing into Hope’s nose.

“She’d be an
excellent
watch dog if she knew she was
supposed
to watch something,” Amber said defensively.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Hope said, rubbing her bruised nose. She went to pour a cup of coffee, but the pot was empty, drained by the surveyors.
Honestly!
She shook her head and refilled the pot with water, added some grounds to the basket and started it again.

“Next time we’ll tell Squeegee to take a big bite out of their behinds.”

Amber giggled.

“Not
my
behind, I trust,” Kenji said, coming in from the pantry. “Hi, Hope. Amber, is okra too far out?”

Hope had jumped at the sound of Kenji’s voice. “Kenji! You startled me.”

“Oh, sorry.” He grinned at her and then glanced down at the list in his hand. “Amber and I are working on the cookbook. Amber—what about okra?”

I’m wearing my shortie pajamas and I don’t rate more attention than the okra
, Hope thought, but she smiled as Amber giggled again. “No,” she said firmly. “Okra is
way
too complicated. All that goopy stuff!”

Hope grinned. “Kenji, want some coffee?”

“No thanks, Hope. Amber says no okra. I have to see what else we have.” He headed back into the pantry.

Hope filled her coffee cup and sat down at the table the surveyors had just vacated. “Amber, what did you want to ask me?”

Amber brightened. “I almost forgot!” she said. “I wondered—I don’t really understand about the uncles. Marty and everybody? Are they related to me, too?”

Squeegee got tired of waiting for Hope to scratch her ears again, and she jumped up on Hope, bumping her arm and making her spill some coffee.

“Squeegee,
stop it
. Lie down. The uncles. You know we’re not biologically related to them, right, Amber? Your mom and I call them the uncles because we’ve known them for a long time.”

“I’ve known
lots
of people for a long time—like my teachers—and they’re not my uncles. What makes somebody an uncle?”

Hope frowned. “I’m not sure. When I was about your age, they took care of me sometimes. They were special. They loved me. I loved them. So they became our honorary uncles. Like family we chose.”

“Are your uncles my uncles, too?”

“They could be, I guess. But if you wanted an honorary uncle, you could ask someone
you
like.”