Facing It (25 page)

Everything seemed to be going so well—the children were adjusting, almost thriving now that John Robert and Camille had started school, her small career was taking off, the divorce was proceeding as planned. For the moment, she had a handle on her life.

Now if she could just get a handle on Chris…

She sighed. That’s why she couldn’t concentrate this morning. Concern and worry continued to nag at her since that afternoon at his house. In the intervening days, he’d called once or twice, short conversations in which little of substance was said. Tick assured her he seemed better now that he was back at work, even if it was desk duty.

But she wanted to see that for herself. She wanted to see him.

Brows drawn together, she darted a look at her calendar. If he didn’t turn up in the next day or so, she would go to him. Maybe prepare a dinner, just for the two of them.

Outside, tires crunched on pea gravel and her heart jumped in her chest.

“Stop being silly,” she said aloud, more to settle the fluttering excitement in her stomach than anything else. “He’s working the station. Probably Tick coming to see Mama.”

Forcing herself to focus, she began sorting the lunch orders by entrée.

Strong footsteps thudded on the steps beyond the screened porch, followed moments later by a sharp knock at the back door. The barely banked excitement flared anew.

Like she didn’t know that knock by now.

Sure enough, Chris waited at the door to the screened porch. He still looked wrung out—pale and heavy-eyed, his strong frame clad in jeans and a T-shirt. As their gazes met, one corner of his mouth curved up in a smile that didn’t quite relieve his somber expression. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Her mouth dry, she stepped back, clinging to the doorknob. “Come in.”

As he passed, she caught a whiff of crisp soap and clean male. She turned, right into a hard chest and solid arms. Startled, she looked up, his blue gaze burning into hers. Giving into impulse, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned up, pressing her mouth to his. With a muffled sound halfway between a groan and a moan, he tugged her close and kissed her, hard.

After a moment, she pulled back, touching his chin. “I’ve missed you.”

“You too.” He rubbed her spine in a soft caress and glanced away, his gaze settling on the table. “What are you up to?”

“Organizing lunch orders for tomorrow. Planning a menu for a dinner party.” She stroked down his arms, loving the warm strength under her palms. Biting her lip, she slanted a look up at him from beneath her lashes, not sure she should even broach the subject uppermost in her mind. “How are you?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “I’m okay. Riding a desk is the pits, but I’m okay.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

He cleared his throat, glanced away, then swung his gaze back to hers. “I’ve talked to Tori a couple of times this week.”

Her breath hitched. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a stray strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “One of Tick’s caveats was that I see someone, to work through…my past. Tori seemed like a good choice. I mean, I know her and it would feel weird telling some of this stuff to a stranger, you know?”

“I understand.” She caressed his arm once more. “Is it helping? Or is it too soon to tell?”

The chuckle that rumbled from his throat was wry, a little self-derisive. “Hell if I know, but at least I managed to get the words out with her. And she doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy.”

“You were worried about that.”

“Yeah.” He released her, although the gesture reeked of reluctance. She liked that, the fact he wanted to be close to her. She wanted to be close to him too, especially after the past few days. “Hell, sometimes I wonder if I’m not.”

“That sounds familiar.” She crossed to the table and resumed sorting the order forms. “I can’t tell you the number of times I wondered if Stephen was normal and I was the crazy one. He was good at manipulating my head like that.”

“Listen,” he said, rubbing a thumb over the edge of the table, “I only stopped by for a moment because I’ve been missing you. I have to be on the front desk at three and need to go home and change.”

“You know how to make a girl feel all giddy inside, you know that?”

He laughed, but sobered quickly, that thumb still moving on the table edge in a nervous back-and-forth motion. “I was thinking maybe we’d have dinner one night this week. Maybe just the two of us? I, uh, need to tell you some things before we, well, before we get in any deeper.”

Any deeper? The way she felt about him? “I’m already in way deeper than I ever thought I’d be this soon after Stephen. And the scary thing is I like it.”

He moved his hand, that thumb making slow circles on the back of her hand. “Me too. You’re…something special, Ruthie.”

“And I could love you, Chris Parker, if you’d let me.”

“I know. Me too.” He caught her chin in an easy grip and leaned in to brush his lips over hers, a quick, firm kiss. “Which is why we’re having this conversation, soon.”

“I’m pretty sure Mama would watch the kids for me one night. She’s enjoying having them around finally and they adore her.” She tilted her head to the side. “But let’s not go out. I’d rather cook for you.”

He nodded, a pleased smile lighting his face. “Okay. Call me and let me know what night.”

With another swift, hard kiss, he was gone and she stared at the doorway, rubbing a finger over her tingling lips.

“I just didn’t think it was right, to not share my concerns with you.” Worry twisted Sara Davis’s pretty features and she reached out to touch Ruthie’s arm.

“I appreciate it.” Ruthie brushed Sara’s fingers and glanced across the classroom at John Robert, gathering his things. “We’re meeting with the counselor again next week and I’ll mention it to him. He says we’re looking at a long, tough row, but we can do it.”

“I know this whole situation has to be hard on you as well as on the children.” Sara folded her arms and leaned on the wall, next to the placard labeling the room as her second-grade domain. “I think he’s had a rough week. He’s been really withdrawn most days, but when he snapped at the other boys for teasing Camille, there was real anger in it that just didn’t feel like anger at them.”

“I’ll talk to him. Thank you.” Ruthie passed her fingers through Ainsley’s hair. It had been a clingier day than most, with Ruthie being unable to make a single movement without Ainsley attached to her legs. She smiled at her son as he approached, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready to go? Camille should be finished with science club.”

John Robert kicked at the molding as they entered the hallway. “Mama, this is a stupid school. Why can’t we go to school at home, like we used to?”

“Because, my precious boy, you need to be around other children, besides your sisters.” She tilted his face up with gentle fingers. The sense that whatever bothered him had little to do with school slid through her. “I know it’s hard getting used to something new, a different life, but let’s give it a good try, all right?”

His shoulders slumped. “All right. I guess.”

They collected Camille from the first grade after-school science group, and she bubbled over with enthusiasm, explaining that day’s experiment to a wide-eyed Ainsley. John Robert remained quiet as they walked out into the sunlight. A chilly wind ruffled his hair and he squinted across the green area fronting the school.

“My shoe’s untied.” Ainsley plopped in the middle of the bottom step with customary princess aplomb and extended her left foot.

“All right. Scoot this way so we’re not blocking everyone.” Setting her bag to one side, she knelt and steadied the small foot on her thigh.

“Mama, there’s Chris.” John Robert spoke over her head. “I need to talk to him.”

“Wait a second.” Ruthie glanced over her shoulder. Yes, it was Chris, across the green space at the sidewalk, his Jeep pulled in behind a sheriff’s unit. He and the deputy stood behind the vehicles, heads bent in conversation. “Honey, he’s—”

“I’ll be right back. I have to talk to him.”

“John Robert.” Her always-obedient child paid her no heed and she didn’t know whether to fuss or cheer. She had said she didn’t want perfect anymore, hadn’t she? She cast an exasperated look in his wake. He hurried across the grass, something about the set of his shoulders bringing to mind the way her father had looked when he’d been pursuing a task with single-minded determination.

“Mama,” Camille whispered, her voice full of horrified glee. “John Robert didn’t mind.”

“I see that.” She made quick work of tying Ainsley’s shoe and rose. “Come on, girls.”

Interested in this turn of events, Ainsley deigned not to cling, but slipped her hand into Camille’s as they hurried after John Robert. They reached the two men and her son in time for her to catch John Robert’s apology for interrupting their conversation. A spurt of humor shot through her. At least he remembered his manners when he rebelled.

He turned a slight scowl in Chris’s direction. “You went away.”

Oh, sweet Lord. Her breath caught, all humor dying, much as Chris’s welcoming smile froze.

“You went away,” John Robert repeated. “For days. Without saying anything first.”

Chris met her gaze for a second, then bent to John Robert’s level. “I know. I’m sorry for that.”

“You made Camille and Ainsley and”—John Robert darted a look up at Ruthie, his mouth set in mutinous lines—“and Mama unhappy. They missed you.”

“I missed all of you too.” Raw pain made Chris’s words ragged. “I was…I wasn’t well those days, John Robert. I didn’t mean to hurt any of you. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Daddy used to make promises he didn’t keep.” Camille released Ainsley’s hand and took a step forward, focused on Chris’s face.

“I know. But I’m not the same man your father is. When I make a promise, I keep it.”

“Like Mama.” John Robert lifted his eyes to Ruthie’s. “She always keeps her promises.”

“I’m sure she does. I haven’t met a Calvert who doesn’t.” Chris extended his hand in John Robert’s direction. “I promise, I won’t go away without a goodbye first again.”

John Robert took his hand in a firm shake.

“Are you
planning
to go away?” Camille asked.

A hint of a genuine smile returned to Chris’s mouth. He rose, his gaze on Ruthie’s. “No. I’m not planning on going away.”

Ainsley sidled closer to the deputy, who watched the exchange with folded arms and a disbelieving expression. She grasped a handful of his slacks and tugged. “I’m Ainsley.”

“Hello, Ainsley.” He grinned, displaying white teeth and dimples. “I’m Troy Lee.”

Ainsley studied him a moment. “Are you a daddy?”

His brows lifted and Ruthie swallowed a groan. Not now. Chris’s muffled snicker didn’t help, although anything was better than the hurt and guilt she’d glimpsed in his eyes earlier.

“I am a daddy. Want to see?” At Ainsley’s eager nod, Troy Lee pulled his cell phone from his belt and flipped it open. He extended it so Ainsley could inspect the baby picture on the screen.

She sighed in disgust and looked at Ruthie. “Mama, he’s already taken, just like the man at the grocery store and the one at the gas station.”

“So I hear.” Her cheeks hot, she gestured toward the playground. “Why don’t y’all go play for just a few minutes while I talk to Chris. You, Master John Robert, can think about what kind of privilege you might lose for ignoring me earlier.”

She tousled his hair and he grimaced before the three trooped to the play area. She turned to a still-grinning Troy Lee. “I’m so sorry. She’s shopping for a new daddy.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Eyes glimmering with laugher, he waved away her apology and nudged Chris. “In the market for a new daddy, huh?”

“Shut up and go write somebody a ticket.”

Unperturbed, Troy Lee consulted his watch. “I have to go make another couple of rounds anyway. Call me about next weekend, Chris.”

Once the sheriff’s unit had pulled away, Chris turned to Ruthie. “The grocery store
and
the gas station?”

“And the diner and the library and…shall I keep going?”

His attention straying to where the children romped at the swings, he tucked his hands in his pockets. “I guess we’re going to have to give her a steady male presence. One that doesn’t just disappear on a whim.”

“Chris, it wasn’t like that. Please don’t—”

“It was selfish, Ruthie. I didn’t think about anyone but myself. I can’t do that anymore. My life’s not just about me any longer.”

Did he hear what he was saying? She reached for his hand, rubbed her thumb across his palm. “So about that private dinner…I’m doing a dinner party Saturday night but how about Sunday?”

“Sounds great.” He folded his hand around hers, warmth spreading out from the contact of their palms. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”