Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) (5 page)

“My
mom says I’m not allowed to use those knives.”

Andrew
looked at me from the kitchen. “Really?”

“He’s
eight,” I responded.

“I
had my first pocket knife when I was eight.”

“So?”

“Can
I have a pocket knife?” Drew asked.

Okay
that was it. Drew had never asked, or probably even thought about having a
knife, and here I let a man into our lives for two days and he’s already asking
for weapons. What’s next, a gun?

I
glared at Andrew before responding to my son. “Let’s talk about that later.”

“You
know,” Andrew said, “learning how to properly use a knife is a good skill to
have, and it actually prevents injuries.”

“Something
I plan to teach him,” is how I responded, though I wanted to say,
this is
not your place.

He
went with the charming smile again. “How can you with wet nails?”

I
narrowed my eyes instead of putting him in his place. I didn’t want to argue
with him in front of Drew.

He
seemed to take my hint. “You’re the mom, and if you really don’t want him to—”

“Awww,”
Drew interrupted.

“—he
won’t, but I promise to be extra careful, and so does he,” Andrew finished.

“Yeah,
Mom. I promise to listen to everything he says. I’m a big boy now, I can do
it.”

I
nodded before turning in disgust from both of them. I decided I didn’t like
having a father around. I especially didn’t like that he was probably right. I
probably should let Drew do more of those types of things, but they made me
nervous. I already let him get tackled to the ground on a weekly basis. A mom’s
heart could only take so much.

I
listened as Andrew walked Drew through the proper care and use of knives like
he was teaching a Boy Scout merit badge class. “The number one rule, though, is
your mom’s rules. Okay? Don’t ever use a knife unless she gives you
permission.”

 That
somewhat appeased me, but I didn’t give Andrew the satisfaction of acknowledging
I heard that.

Before
I knew it, they were both joining me in the great room by the fireplace.

Andrew
set a blanket out in front of the crackling fire. We all sat on it. I noticed
how proud Drew looked of his accomplishment in helping prepare dinner. I also
observed Andrew noticing my Drew. I’m not sure which one looked prouder.

Andrew
looked my way. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”

He
had, but in the end it seemed like the right thing to do, so I sort of smiled
at him.

 “We
need some mood lighting.” He got up and went around turning off all the lights
until the only light source was the glowing embers of the fire in the hearth. “Now
it feels more like camping.” He resumed his spot on the blanket.

“Minus
the bugs and the smoke in your eyes,” I commented.

“So
do you guys like to camp?” he asked.

“Sometimes
we set up a tent in the backyard and sleep out there,” Drew said.

Andrew
looked to me.

“We
really haven’t done much of it.”

“So,
would you?”

“Yes,”
Drew answered for me.

I
hoped he wasn’t asking us to go camping, or even worse, asking if he could take
Drew camping. I was definitely not ready for that, and besides, only crazy
people camped this time of year. He didn’t press any further. Instead, we got
down to the business of cooking our food.

They
had put together quite the spread. There were hotdogs, and several long skewers
with chicken, peppers, and pineapple on them. There was also a tray of bananas,
tiny marshmallows, and chocolate chips.

“What
are those for?” I inquired.

He
had this dreamy look in his eye. “Banana boats.”

“Banana
boats?”

“Believe
me, they’re amazing.”

I
shrugged my shoulders. They sounded weird to me.

We
all roasted our food at the same time. Drew was in between us and he looked
like he was in heaven. Andrew and I both kept looking down at him and then back
up at each other. I felt an unwelcome warm thought toward him.

Once
our food was thoroughly cooked, we sat crossed legged on the blanket and ate
and talked and laughed.

Andrew
told us camping stories from when he was growing up. Most of them sounded like
tall tales, but they were entertaining—at least Drew certainly thought so.
Andrew’s dad, whom I realized was my son’s other grandpa, sounded like a real
character and an outdoorsman.

“Do
you and your dad still camp?” I asked.

Andrew
paused. “No. He passed away two years ago.”

“Oh,
I’m so sorry.”

“Me,
too,” he said. “He was my best friend and example.”

“Siblings?”

“Nope.”

I
was relieved he didn’t have a lot of family, though I didn’t know why.

We
finished our dinner, and Andrew taught us how to make banana boats. He sliced
the middle of the banana with the peel still intact, then he shoved chocolate
and marshmallows in the cavity. Once that was done, he wrapped them in foil and
placed them in the coals until they came out all ooey and gooey. Drew thought
they were fabulous. They were a little too sweet for my taste, but I didn’t say
anything. For some reason, I thought it would have disappointed Andrew if I
didn’t like them, and since he had gone to all the trouble, I smiled and said,
“Mmm.”

After
dessert, we continued talking as the fire burned low. We talked so much Drew
conked out with his head in my lap. I stroked his hair and gazed down at his
sweet face. He looked so angelic and innocent when he slept.

“He
really is a great kid,” Andrew observed.

He
was the best kid.

Andrew
was lying on the blanket with his head propped up on his hand, staring up at
me. Jake was cozied up to him.

“You
know we need to talk about where all of this is going. You need to decide if
you’re all in. Drew doesn’t deserve in between.”

He
sat up and ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair. “I know that. It’s
just...my life could get very complicated over the next several months.”

I
watched my son sleep as I spoke. I gained courage in doing so. “Andrew, I don’t
care how rich or well-known you are; I don’t even care about your biological
status in regards to my son. I will protect him at all costs, even from you if
I have to.” I met Andrew’s eyes. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”
He smiled.

Sunday
morning I woke up early even though I had gone to bed late. For some reason,
Andrew liked to linger—and the man could talk for hours. While he did talk a
little about himself, he seemed more interested in us. He had an endless supply
of questions for us. I guessed it made sense, but it was weird to open myself
up to a stranger. I was more than grateful he wasn’t coming back over today. He
was flying to Chicago for the beginning of the World Series. The Chicago
Spartans were taking on the Bears this year.

“That
must sting,” I had rubbed in last night. He had never made it to the World
Series as a player, and to have his team go the year after he retired? Ouch.

He
just laughed. “I think there was a little too much glee in your voice when you
said that.”

“Was
there?”

“I’m
happy for the franchise and my teammates.” He sounded sincere. It may have helped
me respect him a tad.

While
Drew still slept and with the morning sun streaming in, I pulled out an old
scrapbook of Sydney’s and looked through it. It was odd—we were identical
twins, but I still thought we looked different. Sure, we had the same dark hair
and violet eyes. Sometimes we had even done our hair similar, but there was something
in her countenance that was different than mine. She was always unsettled, like
life was never enough for her. I think that was why she could never stick with
anything. The
next
thing was what was always going to make her happy.
While on the outside she seemed untroubled, she was anything but.

I
remember her talking about her baby like that would solve all of her problems.
She thought she would finally have somebody to love her unconditionally, not
realizing we already loved her that way. She didn’t know she was having a boy.
I was pretty sure she had done her best to ignore that she was pregnant for as
long as she could, which again, she paid the ultimate price for. I had worried
what would happen to her and the baby. She wasn’t equipped financially or
emotionally to raise a child, but part of me always wondered if she knew she
wasn’t going to.

The
night before Drew was born she kept saying things like, “If anything happens to
me, I want you to raise the baby, and make sure if it’s a boy to name him
Andrew. If it’s a girl, name her Drew.” I’ve never told Drew that his name
could go either way. She had to have known something was wrong. Her condition
caused preterm bleeding and pain. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t addressed the
issue—I knew my parents would have helped, even though they were less than
thrilled about it. They would have done whatever they could if she would have told
them the truth. But that was part of the problem with Sydney; truth was
irrelevant to her.

I
skimmed through her book and had to smile. She loved to take pictures of
herself, or let others take pictures of her. Was it odd to say she was a pretty
girl? She had tried her hand at modeling when she moved to Denver after the
community college kicked her out after just one semester. By that point, my
parents were so tired of trying to get her to make something of her life, they let
her go. I knew they worried for her safety and well-being on a daily basis, but
she was an adult.

Sydney
never saw it that way, though. She blamed them for never being proud of her or
loving her for who she was. I tried to tell her that wasn’t true, but she’d
said I wouldn’t understand because I was their favorite, perfect child. I was—and
am—far from perfect, but Sydney had to do everything the hard way, where I had
learned that making good decisions kept doors open and parents pleased. Sure,
my parents made mistakes—all parents do—but they were good parents.

When
I got to the back of her book, I noticed a picture that had never fully caught
my eye before. I took the page out of the book to take a closer look. There she
was, surrounded by several Colorado Bears players, and there he was, one Andrew
Turner, standing in the back. I still wondered how those two ended up together.
It was obvious he regretted it. But had they dated? Was it a one night stand?
When was the last time they had contact? I had a thousand questions.

As
I looked at his face, I couldn’t help but think he looked like a nice guy, definitely
not Sydney’s type. If I didn’t think he was such a jerk for sleeping with my
sister, getting her pregnant, and then ignoring her, I would probably think he
was a good guy. I mean, he was polite and acted like a gentleman. I’d even
admit he was attractive, and if I wasn’t so worried about it, I would say I
really liked the way he treated Drew. I wasn’t interested in him, and he
couldn’t say enough that he wasn’t interested in me, but if the circumstances
were different, he would be the exact kind of man that would catch my eye. You know,
after Drew left for college.

I’d
been deeply hurt by someone I loved when I first adopted Drew, so I decided it
was for the best to leave men out of the equation. I couldn’t stand the thought
of someone loving Drew less because he wasn’t a biological son. Or, what if
they pretended to up front, and then we had kids of our own and Drew became
less in their eyes? I couldn’t do that to my son. I loved Drew too much. And
though at times I missed being in a romantic relationship, I could never live
with myself if I introduced someone into our lives who wasn’t worthy.

Which
brought me back to Andrew. The problem with him was that some judge, if he
decided to take it there, would probably agree that he did have some rights to
Drew. But I meant what I had said last night: I would protect Drew to the
bitter end if I felt like I had to. I think Andrew was amused by my backbone, from
the smile he gave me, but I knew he believed me. I tried not to worry about it
as I placed the page back in the book before hiding it in my closet. All I needed
now was for Drew to find that picture.

Drew
and I spent a lazy Sunday after church curled up on the couch watching super
hero movies as snow fell outside. Andrew, though, was present in conversation.
Drew couldn’t say enough about him. It went something like, “Don’t you think
Andrew is funny, Mom? It was the best weekend ever. I hope he can come back.
Can you talk to him, Mom, and invite him?” You get the picture. Andrew had basically
told me the same things before he left, except his was more like, “Don’t take
this the wrong way, but this was the best weekend I’ve had in a long time.” I
guess I was the only one in disagreement. Okay, maybe denial was more like it.
If I had been an impartial judge, I would have agreed it was a great weekend,
but I was far from unbiased on the subject.

That
night, I got Drew tucked in and we read two chapters of
Harry Potter
since we had missed the night before. Afterward, I settled myself in bed to go
over our calendar for the week and to read the book I had bought on America’s founding
fathers. I was still a history buff, even though I ended up in insurance. It
was at that moment that my cell phone rang. I picked it up only to find I didn’t
want to answer it. I thought he said he was going to be in Chicago.

With
reluctance, I answered. “Hello.”

“Hey,
Rachel Laine.”

“Andrew,
why are you calling?”

“If
I didn’t know better, I would think you didn’t want to hear from me.”

“Imagine
that,” I responded.

His
laugh came through, loud and clear. “I wanted you to know I made it safely to
Chicago.”

“Don’t
take this the wrong way—”

He
laughed even louder before I could finish.

“—but
why would I care?” I got in.

“Ouch.
That hurts, Rachel Laine. You know, when I use that line on you, at least I
follow it up with a compliment.”

“Yes,
and I can’t tell you how nice it is to hear a man tell me all weekend he’s not
interested in me.”

“It
wasn’t all weekend.”

“Why
are you calling?”

“I
wanted to check in with you, because of the weather.”

“That’s
nice of you, but we only got a few inches, and we’re used to the snow up here.”

“Yeah
… of course you are. So, what did you guys do today?”

“We
went to church and then overdosed on super hero movies.”

“Sounds
great.”

“It
was.”

“Aren’t
you going to ask how my day was?”

“Are
you being serious?”

“It’s
only polite.”

“Okay
… How was your day?”

“It
was horrible. My first flight got cancelled and then I had to wait for hours in
the airport for the next available flight, and to top it off, I had to fly
coach.”

“Oh,
how terrible.”

“You’ve
seen how long my legs are. They don’t belong in coach. And now I find out I
could have been watching action movies with you guys all day.”

Was
this guy for real?
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not
.
“And what makes you think you would have been invited?”

“Why
do you think I would have waited for an invitation?”

I
knew better than to think that, so I changed the subject
.
“Andrew, can I
ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Will
you tell me how you met my sister? And, you know … how everything happened?”

“Everything?”

“You
know what I mean. I don’t need—or want—any explicit explanations about your
exploits, especially with my sister. I just need to know how and why and … I
don’t know. I need to know.”

He
paused. I was surprised, he was usually so snappy with replies, and he seemed
to like to talk in general.

“Rachel
Laine, I don’t want you to think ill of me.”

“Too
late.”

“Come
on, I’ve made some mistakes in my past and I’m—”

“Please,
Andrew.”

I
heard him take a deep breath. “Okay, but please try and keep an open mind about
the situation.”

I
wasn’t sure how open minded I could be, so I didn’t say anything.

“I
met Sydney at a party. She was there with a teammate that I didn’t really have
a lot of respect for. He’d had too much to drink that night, so I put Sydney in
a cab after the party was over. Then, a couple of weeks later, she showed up at
the clubhouse and we ended up going to dinner. One thing led to another and …”

“So
you barely knew her?” The thought angered me, though Sydney’s willingness sadly
didn’t surprise me.

“Rachel,
I know how it sounds, but at the time my girlfriend that I had been considering
proposing to had just broken up with me. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“So
that was all your relationship was with her?”

“No.
I saw her, a few more times—just to talk. To be honest, she was kind of messed
up, so I tried to give her some advice and steer her away from the other guy. I
could tell she was getting attached, but I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship,
and certainly not with someone like her.”

I
squeezed the phone tighter. “She was only good for the sex, I suppose.”

“Rachel,
it wasn’t like that. I could have slept with her every time I saw her, but I
was the one who said no. I’m not that kind of guy. I know sleeping with her in
the first place was a mistake, and I’m sorry. But I can’t go back and change it.”

That
was always my dilemma—I wouldn’t want to change it. My sister’s death brought
me the greatest blessing in my life, and this man’s idiocy contributed to it as
well. I wouldn’t change what had happened, but I hated to think that my son’s
life had started as a one-night stand with two people who didn’t love each
other, or even have a real connection.

“Rachel,
I am sorry.”

I
took a breath to gather my thoughts. “Why didn’t you at least try to see if the
baby was yours?”

“Don’t
take this the wrong way, but your sister was like the hundreds of other women who
throw themselves at money and fame. She was looking for an out, someone to take
care of her. Women like her will do and say anything. She tried to extort me,
telling me she would go to the press and tell them that the sex wasn’t
consensual. She didn’t behave like someone who could be trusted. When I got
that letter, I figured it was more of the same. And I really had no reason to
believe the baby was mine; it’s not like we didn’t use protection that night.”

“I
get it.” I really didn’t want to think about them together.

“Rachel
Laine, I need to go, I’m meeting a friend for a late dinner, but I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

“Okay.”
I said it before I thought about what that meant. He didn’t need to call me. We
weren’t friends. I was only the mother of his son.