His Ordinary Life (5 page)

He ran his palms down his thighs again. “I should stay here. Think about it, Barb—”

“I don’t need to. You’re not staying here. You can go to Tick’s or your mama’s.”

“He needs to see that we’re together on this.”

“I don’t want you in the house.”

Pain pinched his mouth into a tight line. Remorse tugged at her and she shoved it away, made herself keep her expression impassive.

“I know that.” Frustration darkened his voice. “But, believe me, it’s the best way.”

“Then we’ll take the second-best way, because you’re not staying here.”

“Second best is having him move in with me so I can keep an eye on him.”

She glared. “No. He belongs here.”

He moved with quick grace, kneeling before her, his hands gripping the arms of her chair. “Yeah, he does, but he needs
me
right now.”

“He’s always needed you.” The raw words scraped her throat.

A spasm tightened his face, his eyes pained. “I
know
.” The bald statement emerged a hoarse whisper. “I’m trying, Barb. Let me stay.”

“Del—”

“Please.”

Barbara looked away from the depthless dark of his gaze. If he’d chosen smooth persuasion, she could have hardened herself to him. But his sincerity…the aching sincerity in his voice wrapped around her, seeping in, making her want to smooth the frown lines from his face, ease the hurt from his eyes.

Don’t. Remember what giving in to desire and the need to comfort him did before.

It gave us Blake.

And ruined all your plans, didn’t it?

She swallowed and faced him again, strengthening her defenses. “I don’t know. There has to be another way.”

“Give me one.”

“I…you’re being here isn’t going to keep him from sneaking out.”

“I can deter him. Trust me.”

Trust him. He made it sound so easy, like all she had to do was step back and let him take over, depend on him to not let Blake fall. Resentment curdled in her. Trust meant being dependent, letting someone else take control.

Trust me. I’ll handle it.
Aunt Polly’s reedy voice echoed in her head.
You can’t do this by yourself, Barbara Gail.
The aunt who’d raised her had set her up to be the needy, desperate girl who’d reacted to the same need in Del. The one time Barbara had stood up to her, refused to let Aunt Polly handle things had been over Del, over Blake. She’d ignored the elderly woman’s insistence that the baby would be better off being put off for adoption. Instead, she’d clung to Del, listened to him when he’d murmured reassurances.

Trust me. I’ll take care of you.
His words when they were standing outside a South Carolina courthouse and all her fears were crowding in. He had picked up right where her Aunt Polly left off, taking care of her. Look how that had turned out. When the responsibility became too much, he’d walked away.

Trusting him had been her biggest mistake.

And now he knelt in front of her, asking her to make that mistake all over again. Her hair tickled her forehead, and she tucked it behind her ears, avoiding his eyes again. “I can’t.”

His mouth tightened. “Then let me prove it to you. A couple of nights, Barb. That’s all I’m asking for. Long enough to show him we mean business.”

In the house the phone rang and young voices argued over who would answer it, the chaos filtering out to them. Barbara pressed her lips together and held his gaze steadily. Two nights. He wasn’t asking for much, not really, and if she was totally honest with herself, the idea of having an ally in dealing with Blake appealed. She could handle two nights.

She blew out a long breath. “All right. Two nights.”

Relief lit his eyes. “It’ll work. You’ll see.”

The dimple in his cheek flashed with his grin. She stared down at him, her knees almost brushing his stomach. He’d smiled up at her that way, in this same position, when she was miserable and large with the twins. Seated on their bed, she’d been ready to cry over her appearance, and he’d run his long fingers over her outer thighs and whispered that she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. He’d pressed a kiss to her stomach, to her thigh, and now, her face heated with the memories of how he’d pleasured her with his hands and mouth.

“Mama,” Anna called from the back door. “Miss Melanie wants to talk to you.”

A reprieve. Thank God. Barbara rose, nearly colliding with Del’s chest. He reached out a hand to steady her, the warmth of his callused palm on her wrist sending a jolt of awareness along her skin. She stepped back, afraid he’d feel the sudden jump of her pulse. His hand dropped away.

“Excuse me a minute.” She hurried across the deck to take the cordless phone from Anna. Pulling the door shut closed out the sounds of her children bickering over whose turn it was to take out the trash. Resisting the urge to tell them to look at the chore schedule, she lifted the phone to her ear, glad the deck was large enough that she could stand outside and still be out of Del’s earshot. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl.” Melanie’s cheerful voice washed over her. “What’s going on?”

Barbara laughed, a short humorless sound. “You really don’t want to know.”

“Uh-oh. More trouble with Blake.”

“Not exactly.” She cast a surreptitious glance at Del, who had settled into the sling chair she’d vacated. Head tilted back, eyes closed, he appeared boneless. “I just agreed to let Del move back in for a couple of days.”

“You
what?
” Melanie’s incredulity shrilled into her ear. “Okay, I’m coming over and we’re going for a walk.”

“Melanie, wait. I can’t—”

“Oh, hell, yes, you can. Get your walking shoes on. We have to talk.”

“Is this a regular thing for your mom?” Del flipped through the stack of homework, checking it off against Lyssa’s planner and initialing each listed assignment. He stood at the island in Barbara’s cheerful kitchen with its bright coral walls and white ceramic tiles to match the white cabinets. Sometime over the past few months, she’d ripped out the old countertops, painted the warm pine cabinets they’d chosen together. He’d noticed other changes in the house, as though with him gone, she’d wanted to start eradicating his presence from the place.

Slowly, the place ceased to be
his
home.

“Is what a regular thing?” Blake asked.

“Walking with Ms. Williams.”

Slumped on an island stool, Blake shrugged, the tense line of his body screaming resentment at being made to sit in the kitchen with his father. “They walk two or three times a week. If Mama doesn’t do laps.”

So he hadn’t been imagining the delineation of muscles in Barbara’s arm when he’d touched her earlier. All of Barbara’s body seemed more toned than he remembered. Although he’d liked her figure just fine before, he couldn’t stop looking at her trimmer form and wondering what it would be like to run his hands over those tight curves.

He cleared his throat, trying to dismiss the taut pressure in his stomach. “Ms. Williams seems nice.”

Another terse shrug. “She’s okay. I have her for biology.” Blake glanced at him, an under-the-radar look beneath his lashes. “So are you leaving once Mama gets back?”

Del bought a minute by carefully shuffling Lyssa’s homework into a pile and laying her planner on top. Hell, walking through the minefield of conversation with his teenage son was harder than his first job interview. “Actually, no. I’m staying here.”

Blake stilled. “Here? In the house?”

“Yeah. Here, in the house. With you.” He darted a glance at the living room where the girls watched television. All he needed was Lyssa getting the wrong idea about his staying. He’d talk to the girls later, explain why he was here, unless Barbara wanted the privilege of that particular conversation.

“You don’t need to—”

“Obviously, I do. Face it, son, whether you like it or not, you broke our trust last night. You have to earn it back.”

Blake looked away, muttering beneath his breath.

Angry heat flushed Del’s neck. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“You know, I’m tired of this attitude—”

“And I’m tired of you pretending you care!” Blake rushed from the room. His stool wobbled and crashed to the floor, followed by the slamming of his door.

Responding anger rumbled through Del. After returning the stool to its upright position, he followed and opened Blake’s bedroom door.

Blake, sprawled on his bed, headphones already covering his ears, glared at him. “Get out.”

The anger burned hotter. “Let’s get one thing straight. You will not slam another door in this house. Got that?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed further and he pushed the headphones to lie around his neck. “It isn’t your house anymore.”

It took an effort to unclench his jaw. The disdain evident in the words scalded him. “That’s right. It’s not.” He refrained from pointing out he was still making the damn mortgage payment. “However, I
am
your father, and I’m telling you…you will not slam another door in your mother’s house again. Understand?”

Silence.

“Blake.”

“I heard you.”

“Do you understand? No more slammed doors. And this one stays open until you’re told otherwise.”

“I got it.” Resentment weighted the admission.

“Good. And one more thing.” Maybe he shouldn’t push this button yet, but he was damned tired of the kid’s attitude. He’d gotten this far, might as well lay out one more ground rule.

“What?”

“When you speak to your mother or me, I expect you to use a respectful tone.”

Blake blew out a breath and clamped his lips closed. He nodded.

Del eyed his son. An opportunity stared him in the face and he had no idea how to use it, no clue how to begin the conversation they needed to have, or even where that conversation needed to go. He was lost, on a road he’d never really traveled, and he didn’t have a map.

His face devoid of all expression, Blake dropped his gaze and slid the earphones back into place. He pushed the volume control up on the MP3 player, his posture a clear statement of Del’s dismissal.

A frustrated growl climbed in Del’s throat and he swallowed it. Yeah, he was definitely lost and he’d just missed his exit.

“So
why
did you say yes?” Melanie’s words emerged on a pant and she lifted her water bottle to her lips.

“Because it makes sense.” Barbara walked faster, as if one more lap around the block would put distance between her and the man in her home. A droplet of sweat trickled between her breasts, her damp T-shirt clinging uncomfortably to her back.

“Oh, bull feathers. The real reason.”

“That is the real reason. I don’t know what—”

“Oh, come on, Barbie, this is me.” Melanie aimed a playful pinch at Barbara’s waist. “Tell Melanie all about it. What possessed you to agree he could stay in the house?”

Barbara lifted a hand at a neighbor out deadheading daylilies. What had possessed her? Complete inability to say no to Del Calvert, that’s what. But she couldn’t tell Melanie that, could hardly stand to admit it to herself. “Seriously, my first concern is Blake. If having Del around will help him, I can handle it.”

“Um-hmm.” Melanie nodded, brushing her hair away from her face. “Testing yourself, aren’t you? If you can do this, stay in the house with him, avoid the ex-sex trap, it means you’re really over him.”

“Oh, please. Ex-sex?” Barbara forced a laugh, torn between irritation and the images Melanie’s words invoked. Lovemaking with Del, the incredible warmth of his skin against hers, his hands touching her in wonderful ways, the guttural groan of satisfaction rumbling from his throat with his climax.

She fanned her hot face, glad she had the exertion as an excuse. “Believe me, I’m getting over him.”

“Really?” Melanie regarded her with an uplifted brow. “I wonder. I only have one question for you. What if you find out you’re not?”

She wouldn’t. All she had to do was keep reminding herself how getting wrapped up in Del Calvert had ruined everything—her future, the dreams, the plans—the first time around. That should keep her from making the same mistake twice.

The late dusk of summer lay heavy on the neighborhood when Barbara turned up her driveway. The front porch light glowed a welcome, and open curtains offered a view inside her living room. She paused on the pathway, a weird mixture of affection, pain and desire gripping her. The television was on and Anna lay on the floor, swinging her feet in the air while she watched. On the couch, Lyssa munched from a bag of popcorn, her shoulder snuggled into Del’s side. He read the local paper, but lowered it to grin at some comment made by one of the girls.

She closed her eyes. Despite her determination not to be drawn in, she
missed
him, missed
them
, missed their family. The next two nights promised to be the longest of her life, longer even than the near forty-eight hours she’d spent in uneven labor with Blake.

Another memory to torture her. The small delivery room at the local hospital, the weird burning pain that definitely did
not
feel like strong menstrual cramps, as a couple of the older ladies at church had told her to expect. The worry that maybe keeping the baby was the wrong thing to do. Overwhelming fear, of the pain and the unknown, of how her life would change again.

And Del, never leaving her, letting her dig her nails into his hand until he would bear bruises for weeks after. His soothing voice, offering encouragement and promises, and those dark eyes she loved, soft with adoration and later shining with a nervous pride when he held Blake with equally nervous hands for the first time.

Where had he gone, that just-out-of-boyhood man who’d loved her with such ferocity and steadiness?

He grew up and decided you weren’t what he wanted anymore.

He’d ended up wanting the choices they’d been denied so early on.

She opened her eyes. In the living room, Anna and Lyssa tussled over the popcorn bag like playful puppies with a rope, and Del laughed, reaching to rescue the sack. “Stop being stupid. It’s over. You’re not that same girl anymore either. You can do this. You
have
to.”

Straightening her posture, she marched to the front door and let herself in. Lyssa scrambled to her feet, a bright smile on her lips. “Mama! Guess what? I got
all
of my math problems right. Daddy checked them.”

“That’s great, sweetie. Anna Nana, what are you watching?” Aware of Del’s gaze on her, she leaned down to pick up a throw pillow from the floor and tossed it on the armchair by the window.

“A documentary on the
Lusitania
.” Anna grimaced as if it was more distasteful than taking out the trash. “We get extra credit in history if we watch it and write a summary.”

Barbara righted her teacher bag, on its side by the armchair. “Any calls while I was out?”

“A hang-up,” Del said, his voice quiet. He folded the newspaper and she averted her eyes from the play of muscles in his arms. “The caller ID shows a blocked number.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Kids. The number is on my syllabus in case kids or parents have questions, and there’s always one or two who can’t resist abusing it.”

Anna giggled. “Last week, some kid kept calling and leaving Christmas carols on our voice mail.”

Barbara glanced down the hall. Blake’s door stood open, but only silence drifted out. She looked at Del, eyebrows lifted in wordless query.

Del shrugged, shoulders rolling beneath the white cotton of his buttondown shirt. “He’s reading and listening to music with his headphones.” A rueful grin curved his mouth. “I instituted an open-door policy until further notice.”

“Well, at least he can’t slam it.”

“I took care of that, too.”

Just as she’d expected, he was taking over, making it look oh, so easy. The old knot of insecurity tightened and she drew herself up. No, she wasn’t that Barbara anymore, the one who couldn’t do anything without checking with Del first, the one who worried over every mistake.

She nodded, a curt movement of her chin. “We’ll have to decide on some ground rules tomorrow. I need a shower, and those research papers won’t grade themselves.” On the way to the master bedroom, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Do you need to pick up anything? Clothes, toiletries?”

Del shook his head, his eyes unreadable. “I had some stuff at Mama’s. I went by for it earlier.”

“Good. I’ll get your linens after I clean up.”

“Thanks.” His crooked half-smile sent familiar shivers through her. She escaped to the room they’d once shared and leaned against the closed door, a hand pressed to her stomach in an attempt to quell a tremor of desire.

Definitely the longest two nights of her life.