Together With You (11 page)

For a breath Ryan was young and in love again. He blinked, saw Carly's pretty face, and felt like a fool. Falling for the nanny was
not
on his SOS list. Kyle spoke more quietly into the phone, reminding Ryan of that talk they needed to have about girls. It couldn't wait too long, but this wasn't the time.

He passed Kyle's room and tapped on Eric's door. After several seconds, he assumed Eric was blasting music through earbuds, opened the door a crack, then fully. Eric was propped on pillows on his messy bed, staring at his computer tablet. At the sight of Ryan, he yanked out the earbuds.

“Carly told me about the picture of Penny.”

Eric remained slouched against the stack of pillows with the tablet against his knees. Ryan wondered what Carly would do and decided she'd be herself—direct, truthful, firm. And kind. Eric's anger was knee-jerk but understandable. His second reaction—to take the Facebook picture down—was the behavior Ryan wanted to encourage.

He walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “The diorama you made looks great.”

Eric's brows lifted, maybe with surprise. “I like using spray paint. Carly said it was all right.”

Ryan tipped his hat to Carly. He would have said no to the spray paint, but Eric had lived up to her trust. “You did a good job. I hear Penny tried to trash it.”

Eric's face was like flint, unmoving, and for a moment Ryan recalled being thirteen and stuffing down every big, confusing feeling. He knew in his gut how hard Eric worked to keep up a tough façade, because Ryan worked just as hard. “I get mad at Penny, too. It was wrong to put that picture online, but you took it down. I'm proud of you for making things right.”

“I guess.”

“No guessing. You did the right thing.”

As Eric shrugged off the praise, Ryan looked into the hazel eyes the boy inherited from Heather. For the millionth time Ryan wished he owned a giant can of the stain remover like the one he used on the berry stains in the Impala, something that could erase the stains on his conscience. But such a thing didn't exist. All he could do was tell the truth and hope Eric would understand.

“Six years ago I made a bad mistake,” Ryan admitted. “I'm trying to make things right for all of us, but it's hard for everyone. I need your help.”

Eric narrowed his eyes. “What for?”

“I'd like you to be a little extra patient with Penny. Do you think you can do that?”

“Why should I?”

“Because you can.” For all of Eric's anger, he possessed a healthy brain and a sharp mind.

Ryan waited for him to say something, anything. Even a sarcastic remark would keep the door open, but his son just stared at him. At a loss, Ryan walked out of the room and closed the door. He'd taken two steps when Eric stepped into the hall and held out a folded piece of paper. “Here. Carly said to give this to you.”

Ryan opened his mouth to ask what it was, but Eric slipped back into his room and closed the door with a soft click.

Alone in the hall, Ryan unfolded the note and saw Eric's Facebook info, complete with password. Pride in his son filled his chest, and he paused to savor this big step toward mutual respect. Knowing Carly would still be awake, he went out to the patio to call her.

Carly steered the Cavalier into the carport and turned off the ignition. Just as she reached for her purse, her phone chirped. Worried, she checked the caller ID and saw the picture she'd snapped
of Ryan. Handsome and unguarded, he filled the screen with a roguish smile.

“Hi,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

“It's great. Eric just gave me his password to Facebook.”

“Oh, good.”

“It is, and that's why I'm calling. He said you told him to do it. Thanks.”

“I suggested it, but he made the choice.”

“You're home. Right?”

“Just getting out of the car.” She opened the door and scanned the alley. It was empty, but she decided to keep Ryan on the phone until she reached her apartment. “Tell me more.”

“The conversation was awkward, but we made progress. You were right about Kyle, too.” He described overhearing the phone call with Taylor. “Young love. I barely remember it.”

“I do! All the drama about dances, those looks across history class.” Laughing a little, she opened the squeaky gate.

“What was that?”

“The gate.”

“Where do you live, anyway?”

She didn't want to tell him. If he knew how bad the neighborhood was, he'd pressure her to live in, and she couldn't do it. “I'm about a half hour from you. I'm at my door now.”

“Good. I'm staying here until you're locked up tight.”

“Okay.”

Grateful for the protection, even if it was just on the phone, she narrated turning the deadbolt and opening the door. “I'm inside now.”

“Sweet dreams,” he said.

“You too.”

As she closed the door, their good-byes overlapped, touching like a tangle of arms in a first awkward kiss.

She locked both deadbolts, then slumped against the door and
succumbed to a wave of fear—not because of crime and helicopters, neighbors with barbed-wire tattoos, or even because of FASD and Allison. It was because of Ryan and how he made her feel. Warm. Safe. Protected. And something more . . . something dangerously close to love.

D
ressed in a white shirt, flashy tie, and charcoal blazer, Ryan trotted down the stairs ready for work. He'd fallen into the habit of an early morning chat with Carly, and he looked forward to saying good morning enough to set his alarm for it. It was Tuesday, and tonight she'd cook dinner for his family, though she told him repeatedly that she planned to leave the instant the last serving bowl hit the table.

Just as he expected, she was seated at the kitchen table making a list of some sort. The recessed lighting lit up her hair in a way that reminded him of the beach on a sunny day, and he paused at the doorway. No one else brought calm into his life. With Carly, he felt strong, competent, and even wise. That's why he had to convince her to stay for dinner.

She looked up from her notepad with a frown. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Not yet. What's wrong?”

Stifling a yawn, she went to the counter and opened the bread box holding bagels and loaves of wheat, white, and sourdough. The boys ate that much, though the bagels were for him. Carly
plopped one in the toaster. “We had a Penny episode yesterday. I would have told you when you got home, but it was a little late.”

Since the night he walked her home by phone, he'd been concerned about where she lived and made sure she left well before dark. “What happened?”

“She tried to run away again.”

“So the problem isn't solved.”

“No. We were in the pool when she asked me about her mother. The entire incident was weird.”

“It often is with Penny.” He lifted a mug off the shelf and snapped a pod in the Keurig. Carly busied herself with fixing the bagel for him. They were elbow to elbow, surrounded by the aroma of strong coffee. The other nannies didn't fix his breakfast, but Carly was more than a nanny.

Turning, she fetched a tub of cream cheese from the refrigerator. “Penny asked me if her mother still liked to swim—the key word here is
still.
She seems to think Jenna is alive and living somewhere.”

“I've worried about that. It's one of the reasons I took her to therapy. With so much going on, Miss Monica said she needed time.”

“I can't imagine what it was like for her.”

“Me either.”

“Death is complicated for any child, but especially Penny. We talked about heaven and what it's like, and I told her what I thought, that heaven is everything that's good about this world but a thousand times better. If her mother liked to swim on earth, she could swim in heaven. Then I told her we can't go to heaven without help from God.” The toaster popped, but she faced him instead of removing the bagel. “Religion is personal. I suspect we have different views.”

“We do.”

“I hope you don't mind what I told her.”

“Not at all.” He supported anything that would help Penny
cope with her disabilities, even an imaginary god. As for himself, he thought about eternity now and then, at funerals or when he noticed his mother's Bible on the bottom shelf in his office. Once in a while, on a gray day, he picked it up and read, but the logic of needing a savior escaped him. Though there were times with Penny, like when she ran off, that he wished he could believe.

Carly plopped the bagel on a plate. “She won't talk about her mom, but she thinks about her and wonders where she is. Did Penny go to the funeral?”

“You're asking about closure.”

“Exactly.” She slathered the cream cheese just the way he liked it, then handed it to him. “Maybe you should take her to Jenna's grave.”

“Can't do it,” he mumbled while chewing. “She was cremated. Denise hired a boat and scattered the ashes in the ocean. Penny didn't go, but Denise told her about it.”

“So she has a picture in her mind.”

“Yes.” Ryan took another bite. Chewing more slowly, he tried to piece together Penny's actions. “What happened after the heaven talk?”

“We sat in the sun to dry off. I was wearing sunglasses, so she couldn't see my eyes. She thought I was asleep and headed for the gate. Rather than stop her, I watched.”

“And she headed for the car.”

“Exactly.” Carly covered the toaster and wiped up crumbs. “I tried to talk to her about it, but she can't explain. Rather than frustrate us both, I let it go. But I'm positive everything is related—her mother, swimming, running away, even the old Impala.”

“I understand her mother and the ocean, but why the car?”

“I have no idea.” Carly ambled back to the table, picked up the pen, and tapped it against the notepad. “At least she's happier in her room. It feels calmer now, even to me.”

Thanks to Carly, the walls were now pale blue, and the open
shelves were filled with white bins labeled in block printing with words like “Crayons” and “Bedtime Books.” There was no clutter except what Penny created, and the messes were easily put away in the bins. Problem solved, or at least mitigated.

There was nothing else to say about Penny, so Ryan shifted gears from a problem he couldn't solve to one he could. After setting the plate in the sink, he rested his hands on the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “Is that a grocery list?”

With a flick of her wrist, she flipped the paper upside down. “Yes, it is. And tonight's menu is a secret.”

“Stay. I want you with us.”

She was already shaking her head. “We've been over this. I'll dish up, but then I'm leaving. You don't need me here. Families eat together all the time. Not as often as they used to, but still, it's normal.”

“Not for me.”

“Not normal? What do you mean?”

“I was an only child.” On the rare occasions he had eaten dinner with his parents, he felt like a grad student giving a presentation. That wasn't all bad. Those conversations sharpened his mind, and he enjoyed them as much as other kids enjoyed having their fathers coach soccer. “Meals with my parents felt more like meetings.”

Carly drummed the pen some more. “Didn't you eat with Heather and the kids?”

“Not very often.”

“So this really is new to you.” She tipped her head, curiosity bright in her eyes. “I can't imagine.”

Sensing a crack in her resolve, he tweaked his strategy. When it came to rescuing people in need, Carly would fight and fight hard. Rather than pressure her—he was certain she'd rebel—he waited with what he hoped was a mildly pathetic look on his face.

She drummed again, sipped her coffee, then faced him with a glint in her eye. “You're pathetic. Do you know that?”

He threw up his hands in surrender. “Definitely. Absolutely. I'm beyond hope.”

“You're also a bad actor,” she said with a hint of a smile. “You're playing on my sympathies with that dreary face.”

Confession time. “You bet I am. You might not believe it, but I really am in trouble here. The first time we sat down together, it was awful.”

“What happened?”

“Kyle tried to talk baseball, which annoyed Eric, who hates sports. I asked Eric about the movie he saw with Nathan, and he told me it stank. No one said another word until Penny spilled her milk. It was a mess, a complete disaster.”

Carly's mouth puckered as if she were hiding something; then she chuckled.

Ryan didn't get it. “What's so funny?”

“You are! Spilled milk and bickering are part of life. My brother was a table kicker, and I can't tell you how many times my sister and I stuck our tongues out at each other over mashed potatoes.”

“Hmm.” Maybe he didn't want
normal.

Carly studied him for a moment. “It's your job to teach them manners, but it's even more important to just be with them.”

“I'm trying.”

“I know you are.” She picked up the list, skimmed it, sighed with as much exaggeration as he'd dished out earlier. Finally she set it down. “Oh, all right. I'll stay. But just this once. And only because there won't be any leftovers, and I'm cooking the best meal in the world.”

He pushed away from the counter. “Thank you, Carly. It means a lot to me.”

“It'll be fun. You'll see.”

When she dismissed him with a flick of her hand, he noticed bluish shadows under her eyes. She looked tired, or maybe she was coming down with a cold.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm fine.” She surrendered to a massive yawn. “It was a bad night. The police helicopter woke me up around three, and I couldn't get back to sleep.”

“Just say the word and you can live in.”

“No, but thank you.”

He wished she would change her mind and not just for the convenience. He worried about her driving that rattletrap car of hers. If he didn't need the van for hauling the kids around, he'd have told her to drive it like her own. As things stood, the Check Engine light had popped on yesterday.

Carly opened the pantry and lifted a box of pancake mix for the kids' breakfast. “Dinner's at six. Don't be late.”

“I won't,” he said. “By the way, I'm dropping the van at the mechanic.”

“That's fine. I'll take my car to the store. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

He took a step toward the hall, but his feet stopped, and he turned for a final look at Carly. Out of the blue, he was struck with the urge to kiss her good-bye. Those feelings were pure craziness, nature at work, and as inconvenient as a toothache.

Annoyed, he headed for the van. As he turned the ignition, the amber warning light flashed, a reminder to check the engine before something costly happened. He needed to rein in his feelings for Carly for the same reason.

Carly spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen. With a little luck, her mother's fried chicken would work its usual magic, and Ryan could cross “Have an enjoyable family dinner” off his SOS list. She hoped the meal went well, because after last night's helicopter incident, where the lights scraped across her window, she was determined to be home before dark. How many times did she
have to ask the landlord to replace the lights in the carport? She would have done it herself, but it required long fluorescent bulbs, and they were expensive. Besides, that's why she paid rent.

Kyle walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Dinner smells awesome.”

“I think you'll like it.” Using potholders, she lifted a rectangular Pyrex dish out of the oven. “We're having fried chicken, green beans with bacon, hash-brown casserole, and homemade biscuits.”

“Wow.” He looked close to drooling. “What's for dessert?”

“Chocolate meringue pie.” Ryan's favorite, a bit of trivia she'd picked up talking to the boys. She set the steaming dish on a woven mat. “How about setting the table?”

While Carly dished up, Kyle broke out the silverware. Penny was in the family room playing with stuffed animals in the small tent Carly used to give her a quiet place downstairs. Eric was upstairs on his computer, either playing a game or reading about shark attacks.

Surrounded by familiar aromas, Carly chatted with Kyle about his day. Of the three kids, he was the most content. Yesterday he'd told her he believed in God and liked going to youth group with Taylor. Carly hoped Ryan had spoken to him about girls and respect, then worried about what he might say. Ryan came from a very different world than the one where she'd been raised. There was a good chance his advice to Kyle would be “use protection.” Probably not yet. Kyle was far from an adult, but someday he'd be a man and responsible for himself and the woman he loved.

Carly often wondered about phrases like “safe sex.” Her personal idea of “protection” had nothing to do with latex and everything to do with love. She wrestled with physical temptation as much as any woman, but she wanted her wedding night, if she had one, to be as special as she imagined, even sacred. That longing had cost her a boyfriend in college, an almost-fiancé who didn't want to wait for marriage to have sex. She cried a lot when he ended the
relationship, not for what she lost but for what they didn't really have. In the end, she had realized that he didn't know her at all.

“Carly?”

“Yes?” She set down the biscuits and turned to Kyle. He looked so much like Ryan that she inhaled sharply.

Kyle's cheeks reddened a bit. “I just want to say thanks for everything—driving me to practice, being nice to Taylor and her parents, everything. My mom would like you.”

“That's high praise.” She was flattered, truly. “Knowing you and Eric, I'm sure I'd like your mom, too.”

“She's all right,” Kyle said in a way that turned “all right” into “someone special.” Then he glanced back at the table laden with food. “This looks great.”

“Oh, it is.” She'd been put on earth to serve and bless others. That's why she was standing here now—to help the Tremaines become a family. If that meant cooking up fried chicken for Ryan, she'd do it with joy. She just wished that catch in her heart would go away, because when he walked into the kitchen and smiled at her, she could barely breathe.