Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (20 page)

Yes, every single day for the last seventeen years. Longing reared its ugly head. Did she? Part of him wanted to know and part didn’t—rejection was hard to take, even perceived rejection.

“Never mind.” There was a hitch in her voice as the swing shifted again, and she inched away from him. “You can’t go back, and crying over what-ifs is a waste of time. We were too young, and your father hated me.”

There was sadness in her tone, but she didn’t seem angry or afraid. He nodded. She sure as hell wasn’t afraid of anything.

A tight smile curled on his lips. She was the bravest person he’d ever known. Papa Ken would have liked her. “You were the only person my daddy couldn’t manipulate. That’s why he hated you so much.”

His old man sure had manipulated Gabe. He’d always hated that weakness in himself—that he’d given in so easily. But not Betts. She’d faced down Peyton Swanson and hadn’t batted an eye. Yes, she’d taken the money, but she’d never cowered in the corner like a whipped puppy. Gabe was proud of her. Considering all that had happened between them, it didn’t mean much, but he was still proud of her.

“We can’t go back. The past is well and over.” Betts cleared her throat. “The us…I can’t do that again. Not like it was. When you…um, when we broke up, I lost part of myself. I can’t do that again. I want to be a part of Tom’s life, and if it doesn’t work out between us, I’d lose him again.”

His heart rate kicked up. He’d lost himself in her too.

If Gabe went out on that limb and believed her, it would mean that everything was his fault. He wasn’t ready for that. “I can see that you care about Tom, but I don’t trust you.”

Betts’s husky laugh filled the night. “Fair enough.”

“How about this? No matter what, we tell Tom the truth—”

“Really?” The swing shifted. “Thank you. Let’s tell him ton—”

“Eventually… We’ll tell him eventually.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was palpable.

He hated upsetting her, but he couldn’t risk hurting Tom when she’d had enough and went packing.

“Does it get any easier?”

He tried to make out her face to see what she was talking about, but Betts was just a voice on the wind. He cleared his throat. “What?”

“The worry. I know you’re out here just like I am. Waiting for Tom, but trying not to look like we’re waiting for him. Does the worry ever get easier?” She took a deep breath. “You know…is Tom a good driver? Are the other drivers sober? What if he has a flat tire? Does he have enough money? What if he gets salmonella from eating undercooked food? What if he gets in a bar fight—”

“Bar fight? Come on.” He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. Again, Gabe wished he could see her face to figure out if she was playing him because she sounded honestly worried. “Harrison’s a dry county. No bars. Besides, Tom’s never had a drink in his life.”

“That you know of. God only knows what he does when he sleeps over at his friends’ houses. I know he’s a good kid, but peer pressure is ridiculous. He and Kaitlin are probably knocking back tequila shots and snorting crack right now. Then he’ll get on the road, drive under the influence, take a curve too fast, hit a tree, and be in a coma for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus, when did you get old?” This was a new side of the carefree Betts he’d known. She was really nervous. This wasn’t an act. She cared about Tom. The tightness in his chest that had shown up about the time she had eased a bit.

“You think this is funny? I’ve been pacing for hours, which is kinda like a hamster on a wheel in the small area inside my bus. I’ve walked to the end of the driveway twice and watched for headlights. I would have stayed down there, but I only had half a bar of cell reception—not that Tom could call me, because he doesn’t have a cell phone. Lucky me, I happen to be worried about the only kid in America who doesn’t have a phone. I’m buying him one tomorrow, and don’t try to talk me out of it.”

Neither he nor Tom had cell phones because Gabe couldn’t afford them. His personal pride took a hit because she could give his son something that he couldn’t, but Gabe wasn’t about to say no. Peace of mind and Tom’s welfare were worth more than his damn pride.

“Just make sure it doesn’t have one of those stupid ringtones. There’s nothing more annoying than standing in line at the bank and some kid gets a call and it sounds like a toilet flushing, or some hippity hoppity rap song buzzes out. A phone should sound like a phone.”

The hum of cicadas closed in around them.

“Wow, I thought you’d fight me on that.” Betts sounded skeptical.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Cicadas and swaying—it was relaxing. Betts’s peachy scent drifted in on the breeze. One thing about her, she didn’t chatter like most women. If she didn’t have something to say, she didn’t talk just to hear her own voice. It was nice. He’d forgotten that about her.

The swing tilted and jiggled as Betts moved. “Did you hear that? It sounded like tires crunching over gravel. Think Tom would drive down the driveway with the lights off?”

“Why would he do that?” Gabe listened, but all he heard were the sounds of night.

“Maybe the lights burned out? Or he didn’t want to wake us? Or he’s passed out in the backseat, someone else drove him home, and that person’s girlfriend is driving his car down the driveway with the headlights off so she can pick up the guy who drove Tom home. Or both headlights got smashed at the wild party of some kid whose parents are out of town. Not all parents are responsible and have the loving relationship that you have with Tom…” Her voice trailed off like she hadn’t meant to say that.

Why did her approval lighten the heaviness around his heart? He hadn’t asked for it, didn’t need it, but it was nice to have, all the same.

She took a deep breath. “You
are
a good father. There, I said it.” He could imagine her nose all scrunched up like she’d just pronounced that the world’s stinkiest cheese actually tasted good. “Happy?”

Amazed was more like it. Her compliment meant more because it had cost her a fair amount of pride to pay it. “Thanks.”

Talking to her was easier when he didn’t have to see her face.

“I guess my fear that Tom will get caught in the crossfire of warring street gangs or the scenario where he gets abducted by a Mexican drug cartel and held for ransom are pretty out there.” Betts still sounded a little unsure.

“The Bloods and the Crips haven’t ventured this far into East Texas, but we do have the Longview Lobos and the Pine Tree Pirates. Fortunately, they battle out their differences on the football field, and the only ransom situation that I know of is the occasional kidnapping of a school mascot. Tom is safe.”

Swinging with her and waiting for Tom was homey and comfortable. In the short time she’d been here, Betts had made things homey. Had things been different, would this have been their nightly ritual?

“Then what are you doing out here?”

“I’m out here most nights. I like the quiet.” This was his place to think. And if he walked around her bus several times to make sure she was okay, it was only because he needed to stretch his legs.

But he’d started coming out here at night long before she’d shown up. The porch swing was the only place that had soothed Tom when Gabe had first brought him home. For the first six months, Tom had flinched and hidden any time Gabe raised his voice. Most nights, Tom had snuck out of bed and slept behind his stuffed animals in the closet because he was that scared.

Gabe waited for the rage to come, but all he could muster up was a deep sadness. Betts might have given Tom up, but Gabe was finding it harder and harder to pin his hatred squarely on her shoulders. She’d been young and alone—that was on him—and she’d made mistakes. So had he. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her why she’d done it, but something had changed between them tonight. Betts really cared about Tom. Call Gabe a coward, but he just didn’t want to screw up the mellow vibe.

“It’s soothing.” Betts yawned. “The quiet is nice. I don’t get much back home.”

“Where’s home?” It was out of his mouth before he thought about it. It was the first personal question he’d asked her.

Her hesitation lasted a couple of seconds like she was just as surprised by the question as he was.

“New Orleans, I guess. That’s where I am most of the time when I’m not touring.” Her voice was drowsy, husky, and reminded him of all the nights he’d held her in his arms as they stargazed.

He glanced up. Too cloudy for stars tonight.

“I have houses in Nashville and Memphis too.” She added that as an afterthought—like she’d just remembered it.

Again the disparity in their financial situations was practically a flashing neon road sign.

“Why do you need three houses?” Hell, he could barely afford one, and it was paid for.

A full minute of silence passed in the swaying of the swing.

“I honestly don’t know.” Her tone held a hint of awe, like someone who’d just unraveled a mystery. “I haven’t been to Memphis or Nashville in over two years.”

“Are you still planning on building a house here?” He’d wondered a time or two. Not that he could do anything about it, because once the Betts freight train got going, it was full steam ahead, but he needed to know if she had a long-term plan. He realized that he wanted her to have a long-term plan that involved him, not just Tom.

“I said that to piss you off.” She sighed. “But I don’t hate it here, so I can’t say that I won’t someday.”

It went without saying, but one day she would leave. They both knew it.

The letdown was harder than it should have been. Tom would be upset when she left, and damn it, so would he. Gabe wanted her around. Admitting it to himself was hard.

“Are those headlights?”

He peered into the dark abyss at two faint pinpricks of light buzzing in the direction of the driveway. “Nope, lightin’ bugs. Headlights don’t fly off in opposite directions.” He grinned. “Can’t take the city out of the girl no matter how far from it she strays.”

“That’s a good line. Mind if I use it in a song?”

“Help yourself.” Gabe checked the glow-in-the-dark hands of his wristwatch. Almost midnight. Tom should be home soon, and it was time to broach the subject they’d been dancing around. “What was between us is still there.”

“I know.” Her words came out on a whisper.

“What do we do about it?” Living in denial wasn’t his style. Maybe if they talked it out, they could figure out a solution.

“I don’t have a freakin’ clue. I want you, but I don’t
want
to want you.” Her voice was strained.

Gabe felt more than saw her shaking her head.

“At least we have that in common.” If his world was off kilter, it was comforting to know hers was too.

“I’m not the same innocent, naïve girl, and you’re a far cry from the restless, grab-the-bull-by-the-horns boy I knew back then.”

Was there the slightest hint of regret in her voice?

Gabe had settled down—too much, now that he thought about it. His life was all hard work, worry, and stretching to make ends meet. To her, he must be the most boring person alive.

“I still grab some bull horns every once in a while…” That sounded pathetic even to him.

“I didn’t say that you didn’t, but I don’t think grabbing Buttercup’s horns counts. I could swear I saw him chasing his shadow this afternoon. The worst part was, he honestly looked terrified.”

Gabe wasn’t boring. He was just as daring as in his youth, only now he was smarter.

“Yeah, Buttercup’s more of a lover than a fighter, and he has some paranoia issues. He was abused as a calf and in bad shape when Tom found him wandering down Highway 80. Tom was about ten, I think, and begged and pleaded until I’d agreed to go home, pick up the trailer, and come back and help the bull.” God knew they couldn’t afford the additional vet bill, but Tom had been so hopeful. “Tom nursed Buttercup back to health.”

“So he’s kind? Tom…not Buttercup.” She sniffed and swallowed. “I mean…I thought so, but, well…it’s good to hear.”

Two bright headlights punched twin holes in the darkness as a car turned from the road onto the driveway.

“Tell Tom I said goodnight.” The swing tilted and wobbled as Betts’s weight lifted. “Thanks for telling me the story about the bull.”

The grass crunched under her feet as she walked toward her bus.

Why had she thanked him for that?

Fireflies blinked like a tangle of hovering Christmas lights sprinkled around the front yard. Gabe resumed rocking, back and forth…back and forth. Did Betts want to know more about Tom’s childhood? Did she regret giving him up?

For the first time, Gabe let himself see the thing for what it was. Betts wasn’t the villain he’d spent years convincing and consoling himself she was—Betts was a victim just like him. But unlike him, she hadn’t put herself in that position. He had. She wasn’t completely innocent, but she wasn’t guilty either.

All these years, he’d justified his behavior by telling himself that she’d deserved it. The anger he’d felt for her had kept him going on nights when he’d struggled or felt overwhelmed by parenthood. If he hadn’t had anger to cling to, guilt and fear would have eaten him alive. But Betts hadn’t deserved what had happened, no matter the motivation. She hadn’t been the monster he’d made her out to be in his mind. Maybe she had reasons he ought to find out about. Hell, that could be a heck of a road ahead, but one it was time he started walking.

Gabe had some pretty big sins that needed absolution.

Did he want to make it up to her?

The idea rolled around his brain for a second or two. He wanted to try.

***

Sunday was a day of rest in the eyes of Jesus and Betts Monroe. The late October day was one of those perfectly clear, warm autumn days that God threw into the mix as an apology for the upcoming drabness of winter. Her coral-colored tee shirt and khaki shorts were all cotton, comfortable, and showed off her butt.

Betts stood in the doorway of her bus, stretched, and took in a lungful of clean, country air.

Last night, she and Gabe had proven that two people who didn’t particularly like each other or have anything in common except a physical attraction could have a good time in bed. Only they did have something in common, and his name was Tom. And Gabe did matter.