Stef Ann Holm (8 page)

“I didn’t want to interrupt you before.”

“Jason?”

“He’s okay. I meant, I saw you crying and I figured you need some private time.”

For some reason, the fact that he’d watched her unnerved Lucy. “You watched me cry?”

“Not for all that long. But it looked like you needed to.”

Her emotions whirled and skidded. One moment, she’d been drawn by the raw sensuousness in his eyes; the next, those thoughts all but evaporated. She felt a little snappish, slightly annoyed with him. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit her:
He’s seen me weak.

She hated that, hated to be less than capable. And now he’d seen her at her worse.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to come into a church.” She couldn’t help the short response.

“Well, I did put on my asbestos underwear this morning, so I think I’ll be okay.”

She clued in to the fact he was teasing, saying he’d have gone up in flames if he hadn’t been wearing protection.

Unbidden, she smiled. “Funny.”

“I’ve been in a church a few times.”

She straightened, stuffed her wet tissues back into her purse. “I’m sure that’s a stretch, but I’m not going to debate it with you.”

He merely chuckled. Then his voice lowered an octave and she could tell he was looking at the back of her head. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she lied, still facing forward.

“I saw the doc heading back without you.”

“Where’s Matt?” she asked.

“He’s watching TV in the waiting room.”

“I should get back to him.” Lucy stood, smoothed the front of her shirt and put the straps of her handbag on her shoulder.

“Give yourself another minute,” Drew suggested, standing behind her.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you look like you’ve been crying.”

“It could be because I’m upset about my son getting hit in the head.”

“Could be, but that’s not the reason. Want to tell me?”

She walked past him, through the chapel doors and into the hallway. “No.”

“I was once his age. Nothing would surprise me.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

Drew matched her stride, fell in step with her. “If you change your mind, you’ve got my number.”

And you’ve got a girlfriend!

Why she was suddenly aggravated about his circumstances…why the anger welled, knowing he was “taken,” just when he appeared to express real concern for her and her son…she just didn’t want to address it.

So she said nothing further.

Later that night, Drew dropped her off to pick up her car from the field. Lucy brought Jason home, put him to bed, but she didn’t bring up the roach clip. She needed to sleep on it, figure out how she was going to deal with him, what the consequences would be.

Perhaps she’d been naive when she thought she’d never have to revisit this again.

The reality settled like a weight on her shoulders. It was going to be a long night.

I graduated high school! Peabody Marsh sat in front of me and he lit off a smoke bomb just as the
valley-victorian
valvictorian was giving her speech. Principle Walton had a conniption fit.

I kept looking in the audience and I only saw Aunt Lynette. I wished Momma was sitting right next to her. I started crying and I had to hide it so my mascara wouldn’t run.

When the commencement was over, everyone threw their caps in the air. Then a streaker ran across the gym. He wore a Sponge Bob mask, but we all knew whose bare behind it was. Our best pitcher on the baseball team. Brad Smith. He was gone before any of the teachers could catch him. I would have known that butt anywhere. I’ve had a crush on it for the entire semester. Brad and I went to prom together.

I’ve always had a thing for baseball players. Funny how that works out…considering.

I got my diploma and my picture taken next to the United States flag. I guess I am now officially done with school.

Some friends and I spent our first days in the real world by hunting crawfish. Brad and I made out on the beach. We didn’t do anything, but kiss. I love how he kisses. All of us ended up going swimming to start our summer.

Now I’ve got my whole life ahead of me. I’m not sure if I can last four years in college, but Aunt Lynette says I need to try. A girl without a degree won’t go far. But I like to do hair and make up and look at how much money the cosmetologists to the stars make.

Besides, college costs big bucks. But Aunt Lynette said not to worry about that because my “daddy” said he was paying.

Drew sent me a graduation present and I almost didn’t open it. I let it sit on my bureau for three days. I didn’t want it to ruin my big day. Just in case it was something bad.

So I opened it this morning.

I keep staring at the present, wondering how he knew. I asked Aunt Lynette and she swore she never said a thing about it. That Drew did it on his own. I asked Aunt Lynette to get out her Bible and swear on it. She did. So I know she’s telling the truth.

Drew got me a diary.

How he knew, I can’t guess. Must have been a lucky guess, though. Or he probably asked the clerk in a store and she made a lucky guess. In any case, here I have it and what am I going to do with it?

I can’t stop looking at my present from Drew and I decided I might as well keep it. It’s just too nice not to use.

The diary the finest leather I’ve ever seen, and so smooth to touch. My fingertips glide over it. On the front, my name is inscribed in a really cool gold foil font. It only has my first name. He probably can’t stand the thought of me having only momma’s last name and not his.

Inside, the pages aren’t lined. It’s all fine white paper, really thick and nice so if I want to do a sketch or drawing, I can. The edges are a gold foil, too. It’s about the nicest diary I’ve ever seen.

He gave me a graduation card and a check for $1,000.00. I never seen that much money in one check in my life. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, if I’ll even spend it. I should probably give it back…but last night I couldn’t sleep for thinking about how much fun it would be to take that kind of money to the mall and just blow the whole thing. Aunt Lynette says I should spend it wisely, but I don’t feel like being wise. I’m seventeen. I’m supposed to be reckless. Hah hah.

I suppose I need to write him a thank you card. Or maybe I should call him up. I have to think about it. I can’t remember what his voice sounds like. But I remember exactly what he looks like since he looks like me.

I have one of his pictures in my desk drawer, but I haven’t pulled it out in a long time.

I did this morning. And it’s on my bed next to me. And I’m thinking maybe I should call him and say thanks. But I don’t know how to say it.

I don’t know him.

I don’t know Drew Tolman at all.

L
ucy was running late.

She’d stayed up until well after midnight preparing for today. Then a bad case of insomnia kept her up as she lay in bed going over various scenarios about her son.

When this happened in Boise, she’d gone online and read as much information as she could find, talked to the school counselor and principal, as well as her general practitioner. Armed with what she needed to say, and how to go about it calmly and unemotionally, she’d sat Jason down and told him she loved him, but his choices were unacceptable in her home. She was there to listen to him, and wanted to be part of the solution; unfortunately, he’d only mumbled some excuses and said he wouldn’t do it again.

She’d tried to get him away from the influence of his friends, had talked to their parents. Some were in denial and that was no help whatsoever. So she’d used the resources she had and made the best decision she could at the time.

Now that decision wasn’t floating above water. She felt as if she were sinking.

With a sigh of frustration, Lucy went through the house with unorganized thoughts as she collected everything she needed for her job interview. Into her briefcase she stuffed her menu notebook and testimonials from previous clients, vision statement about her services, and the client agreement—along with the empty plastic containers for entrées and side dishes just in case they hired her. She’d printed a sampler menu, a spring theme centering around some lower fat options, as well as a few decadent indulgences. Desserts weren’t the norm for her, but she was desperate.

She was meeting with prospective clients this morning, the first couple she’d actually have a face-to-face with. She’d fielded several calls in the past few days, but they hadn’t garnered any appointments—just more curiosity about who she was and if she knew Raul.

Hearing all about how great Raul Nunez was was getting on her nerves. The resort area was in dire need of another top quality personal chef and Lucy wished people would be more open-minded. Raul couldn’t handle everyone; he’d even said as much to her when she’d had coffee with him before moving here. But he’d also implied he’d put in a good word for her. Apparently he hadn’t, or else she would have been on her way to establishing a client base by now.

Thank goodness the Greenbaums were willing to give her an interview. They’d read her ad in the
Mountain Gazette.
Ted and Shirley Greenbaum lived in the Knolls, an exclusive Timberline neighborhood. If they liked the sound of her menus and pricing, she was praying they’d hire her. She wished she could bring them the dishes to try, but it was against the personal chef regulations to cook in her home and carry it out.

“Where’s my—?” She ransacked the kitchen, moving pots and pans stacked on the counter, not finishing the question because her mind was already focusing on what she was looking for. A tiny book with notes. But she couldn’t find it.

“Mom,” Matt said as he came down the stairs. “Are you going to drive me to Ada’s or am I going to walk?”

“Drive you where?”

“So I can walk the dogs.”

Lucy had forgotten about that. She’d spoken to Ada several days ago and had even gone to Claws and Paws to meet her. She was a genuinely sincere woman with a good heart, and she needed some help in her shop. Although Matt was young, Lucy felt he had enough maturity and a grasp on responsibility that he could handle the job, since it was only a few hours a week. She wasn’t sure about the legality of hiring a twelve-year-old, but how could this be different than if Matt was mowing lawns? He’d be paid in cash.

“Of course, yes.” Lucy found her notebook and grabbed the loose papers that threatened to fall out.

But then Lucy paused. Jason. That meant Jason would be left home alone.

Not a chance.

“Jason!” Lucy rummaged through her purse and fished out her car keys.

“What?” His muffled response came from the loft. He’d been in bed all morning, a place she let him stay after the concussion. Normally she babied him, let him miss school and watch TV or play video games.

He’d been so out of it last night, he’d fallen into bed and gone right to sleep. When she woke this morning, he’d been out cold and she’d worried. She’d put her finger under his nose to feel him breathing. He was. And steadily. But then she toed the wheel of the bed frame just enough to jar him awake. He’d opened his eyes, looked at her, then groaned and put the covers over his head.

He’d live.

That had been about thirty minutes ago and he was still up in his room.

“Put some clothes on,” she said, finding her keys. “You’ve got five minutes to get downstairs.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer. She let herself out the front door and began loading her car. When she returned inside, Jason sat on the second step of the loft stairs, his hair sticking out, still wearing the gray sweats he’d put on to go to bed.

“Get dressed,” she commanded.

“What for?”

“You’re going with your brother to walk dogs.”

“I can’t. I have a headache.” He rubbed his temple and made an exaggerated face.

Maybe he did have a headache, but frankly, she didn’t care. She wanted to shake him, to knock some sense into him.

“I’ll give you some aspirin. Get dressed.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a matter of what you want or not.” Her tone was strong and severe. He gazed at her through the loft spindles, saw she meant business, and rose to his feet. With his hand on the railing, he suddenly stopped, looked at her through the fringe of his hair.

“Where’s my baseball uniform?”

Lucy’s lips clamped together. She’d left it at the hospital so they could throw it away. Clearly, Jason just had a recollection of what he’d been hiding in his pocket. She wanted to make him fret about it, worry…wonder if she knew or if she didn’t know.

“They cut it off you and it got thrown away.”

“Where?”

“In the garbage. Now get dressed.” Pivoting on her heels, she turned and went outside before he could ask her what garbage and where. She could already imagine him rifling through their trash out back, sorting through the wilted vegetable skins and the pan grease she’d discarded.

Minutes later, she had both boys in the car and was dropping them off at the curb near Ada’s.

“Jason, you’re to stay with your brother the entire time. If I hear you’ve left, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

He glowered at her, his brows dark slashes. “Where am I going to go?”

She glared back. “You tell me.”

Straightening, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and went into Ada’s with Matt.

Lucy pulled away, her mind running in circles without a set direction. On an impulse, she dialed a number, but regretted it as soon as she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hullo?”

“Gary, it’s Lucy.”

“Hey, Loose.”

She wouldn’t allow his pet name for her to distract her from the situation at hand. He’d always called her that, and why he chose to do so now only annoyed her.

“I don’t even know why I’m calling you,” she said, running the sentence tightly together. “You’re not here for the boys and there’s nothing you can do.”

“You called just to attack me? I’m going to hang up.”

Swallowing, Lucy blurted, “No. Wait.” She couldn’t apologize because she meant what she said, but since she had him on the line, she wanted his input. “I’m calling about Jason.”

“What’s the matter?”

He sounded somewhat interested, in spite of the music blaring in the background. It made her wonder if he were wearing a straw hat and sitting on a bar stool at a beach bar while Diane suntanned. Neither one of them did much of anything by way of working, and it chapped Lucy’s hide that he could get away with the meager child support he sent. But that was another story and she didn’t feel like revisiting it now.

“Jason was smoking pot again,” she said. But she bit the words off, wishing she’d never spoken them.

Gary knew about Jason’s troubles in Boise, and in fact, Gary had been the one to tell her the city was a bad influence on their son. But Gary had no clue about how to fix the problem, he only liked to impose his opinion.

“You catch him?” Gary asked.

“No. He had a roach clip in his pocket. I found it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t his.”

Lucy turned the steering wheel, hoping she was headed down the right street. “And maybe it was, Gary. I mean, come on. What are the odds? Trust me, it’s his. Our son has a problem with pot.”

“Then call the cops on him.”

Gritting her teeth, Lucy tried to remain calm. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? If he’s screwing up, let him think about it in the slammer.”

A few deep breaths and Lucy’s pulse was under control. “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t think that his problem is so severe he needs to be put in jail. Gary, he’s a minor.”

“A minor pain in the butt. This isn’t his first screwup. He needs to be taught a lesson.” Gary mumbled something to someone, then chuckled before returning his attention on their phone call. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No!” Lucy exclaimed. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Well, then why’d you call me if you don’t want me to do anything?” Gary’s dander rose and she could tell he was clenching his entire body. He got like that these days. Combative and edgy if she so much as critiqued him.

“Gary, I don’t want you calling him. Please promise me you won’t tell him you and I spoke. I only called you because…”

At this point, she had no “because.” In a moment of complete delusion, she’d thought she could count on him as an ex-husband and a father to their son. She was wrong.

Gary being Gary flew off the handle, was unreasonable, didn’t think anything through, and he just plain irritated her.

“Never mind.” Lucy flicked her blinker on, made a turn into Timberline. “I’ll figure something out.”

Even though he made a slight attempt to put his hand over the mouthpiece, Lucy heard him say, “I’ll be there in a minute, hon.”

It made her stomach roil to hear him speak to Diane like that. The pain of the affair still festered in her sometimes, and she wanted to scream. He was a deadbeat jerk.

“I have to go, Gary. I’m late for an appointment.”

“Yeah, okay. But I think you should call the cops on him.”

Lucy thought about Sheriff Lewis, his hick-town demeanor and the curl to his lip. She thought not. No calls to the law officials in Red Duck, thanks.

“I’ll handle it,” she said, then disconnected the line and prayed Gary would make good on his promise not to call Jason and talk to him.

Chances were he wouldn’t. It would take too much effort and actual memory capacity to put his son on his radar.

Lucy drove through Timberline, the spacious estates large and looming, metal rooftops peeking through the thickets of pines and aspens. She couldn’t imagine living here. What must these people do for a living? They couldn’t all be investors, politicians and movie actors. Maybe some got their money the old-fashioned way. They earned it.

Her mind drifted to the expenses that Jason had just incurred on her insurance plan by having a hospital stay. Her deductible was a killer, since she was self-employed. Gary was supposed to pay fifty percent of the fees, but he was sporadic about it, and then she had to call Child Support Services and get them involved. It became a nightmare at times when she had to pay the bill up front, then wait for Gary to reimburse her.

Lucy
needed
this cooking job with the Greenbaums.

But when she started working, who was going to keep an eye on Jason for the summer while school was out? He was beyond needing a babysitter, but he needed supervision so he wouldn’t make more bad choices. At the very least he needed a full schedule so he couldn’t have time to get into trouble.

Lucy glanced at her cell phone and wondered if she should call Drew to see if he’d made the team. If Jason got on the seniors, part of her worries would lessen. Baseball would take up a fair amount of her son’s time, keeping him out of trouble.

Just as she contemplated making the call, the phone rang and she answered.

“Lucy—Andrew Tolman.”

She didn’t know why she felt such relief. His voice instantly comforted, soothed. She was glad he had her phone number.

“Drew. Hi.”

“How’s Jason this morning?”

Trying to drive, talk and read the directions she’d written down for the Greenbaums, Lucy replied, “He’s got a bad headache, but he’ll be okay.”

“I won’t be able to let him play without a doctor’s release.”

With Drew’s words, finding the correct turn took a back seat. She knew her son was good, but she hadn’t been completely sure he’d make the team until this moment. “Thanks, Drew. He’ll do a good job for you.”

As soon as Jason got involved, he would do his best. She knew her son, and no matter what he was struggling with, he always put his whole heart into playing ball once he was on a team.

“I know he will,” Drew replied with a resonant laugh that got her attention and evoked shivers across her arms. “He’s got attitude and a chip on his shoulder that’s good for throwing fast balls.”

She turned right, then started looking for the entrance to the Knolls, but her focus wasn’t fully on the street signs.

Then it hit her: she was contemplating confiding in Drew about Jason and what she’d found last night.

What was she thinking?

It would be crazy to involve Drew, who she
knew
would be bad news in her life—but why did it feel so automatic to want to blurt out the truth?

Gary was all but useless, and there were times when Lucy was desperate to talk to another adult male about an issue with her son. She had a feeling Drew would understand because of the way he’d talked to her at the hospital, implying he had knowledge of rocky paths and teenage boys. But how could she tell Drew about the drugs? If Drew knew her son smoked marijuana, he’d be out of Little League without a half second to spare.

Lucy groaned, dismayed over the dilemma. The one man she thought she might be able to talk to about this was the very last man she could turn to. Thoughts about talking to him were banished.