The Good Father (8 page)

Chloe nodded. “Feeding so many people at once, it can be difficult sometimes to make dishes that everyone will like.”

“But you could do it, couldn’t you? Plan menus and give them recipes that would appeal to the masses, but still be that step above ordinary?”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Ella. “You trying to get me to move to the shelter? Surely you don’t think I’m in need of full-time care...”

The question threw Ella. Mostly because it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Jeff was the one who needed help in their situation. They’d gotten Chloe and Cody out in time. Chloe had been strong enough to pack her bags and get in the car.

“The women at the Stand—in large part—are there because they aren’t safe on the outside yet, or because they don’t have any place else to go while they rearrange their lives. You don’t fit either category. They’re starting over. You’re not.”

The look of relief that crossed Chloe’s face startled Ella. Didn’t Chloe trust her to get her back home? Did she think Ella wanted her to leave Jeff permanently?

Or was there more going on?

Filing the questions away, in the interest of time, she said, “I heard Lila say something yesterday to the...woman...I was there with, something about the cooking, and it made me think of you. I thought maybe you’d be glad for a somewhat professional pastime while you’re here, and it would be good for Cody, too, because while you’re working, he could play with the kids in the private day care at the Stand.”

She wanted to give Chloe a sense of herself apart from her family. The woman could own her own restaurant, or run a kitchen in an already established high-end eatery. Maybe, if Chloe were independent, she wouldn’t be as vulnerable to Jeff’s outbursts.

Maybe if she stood up to Jeff, he’d get himself well sooner...

The thought stopped her short. Where in the hell had that come from?

“You really think I could help?” Chloe was saying, and Ella felt ten times sicker, thinking that Jeff’s behavior was in any way Chloe’s doing.

She knew better.

“I already spoke to Lila,” she said now, taking her plate to the sink and rinsing the remainder of her breakfast down the drain. The disposal would have a gourmet breakfast. Something it wouldn’t appreciate at all.

Like Brett hadn’t appreciated having a partner in his corner, loving him above all else, willing to watch his back, to protect his heart...

Pulling a card out of the front flap of her purse, she slung the bag over her shoulder and tossed the card on the table. “Lila’s at the Stand all day today. She said if you’re interested, give her a call.”

With a smile, a hug and a quick goodbye, she was out the door before she made any other stupid mistakes.

Like telling Chloe that seeing Brett again had gotten to her just like her sister-in-law had feared it would. Which was why she hadn’t mentioned the meeting at all.

She was tired.

Out of sorts.

Damn Brett.

* * *

B
RETT CANCELED HIS
golf game Saturday morning. He wasn’t a huge fan of the sport, but preferred the course to boardrooms when the same business could be accomplished either place.

Instead, he pulled on jeans, a long-sleeved denim shirt, and got his Harley out of the garage. He didn’t ride much anymore. But he always kept the thing serviced. There were just some times a guy had to be a guy.

This was one of them.

The three-and-a-half-hour trip to Palm Desert was a godsend. Even with the damned helmet clamped to his head. He was wired for sound and played old Eagles tunes as he sped across the desert. The rumble of the machine between his thighs was like a shot of pure adrenaline. It was the first long ride he’d taken since the divorce.

Clearly time to rectify that lapse.

He didn’t call first. Wasn’t sure why; he just didn’t. Still, Jeff was at home, mowing the grass, when Brett roared up the quiet street where his best friend’s five-bedroom house stood on more than an acre of crisply manicured lawn.

“Brett? By God, man, what the hell are you doing here?” Hopping off his zero-turn mower, Jeff jaunted toward Brett, his hand extended.

They shook hands, and then, still gripping Brett’s hand, Jeff pulled him in for a hug. “It’s good to see you,” he said. “Man, you look great!”

“So do you.” Feeling a bit choked up, when he rarely felt any emotion at all, Brett stepped back. But he couldn’t do anything about the grin that was spreading across his face. “It’s been too long, man,” he said.

Jeff might be married to a great cook, but he was still in shape.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Jeff was grinning, too. Giving Brett the up and down. “And on your bike. I figured you sold that. Ella said you offered it to her in the divorce.”

Because he’d offered her everything.

She’d refused to take any of it. His money. His help. His prized possessions.

“Nope.”

“You still ride much?” Jeff was circling the bike now. They’d taken a few trips together. A long time ago.

“No, but I’m thinking about changing that. You got a bike?”

Jeff sold his bike when Cody was born. He’d put the money toward a backyard pool and hot tub and insisted on showing Brett that and then the rest of the house he’d bought when he’d made his first big stock deal, telling Brett that Chloe and Cody were gone that afternoon.

Pulling a couple beers from the fridge, he handed one to Brett and led the way back outside, to the table and chairs on the paver patio by a built-in fireplace and rock water feature.

The things, the beauty of Jeff’s home, weren’t anything Brett couldn’t have himself. The swing set, playhouse and sandbox—all made with matching wood—caught his attention. He didn’t realize he was staring until Jeff said, “Cody and Chloe...they aren’t just gone for the afternoon.”

Brett had already decided how he was going to play this. At least until he knew more. “I know,” he said, meeting his friend’s gaze head-on. “I ran into Ella in town. You knew she moved to Santa Raquel, right?”

“To take that job, yes, I did, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Brett. The way she just moved right in on you. I swear, I didn’t even know about it until she was already moving in to her place. I’d have advised her against accepting the position if I’d known in time.”

Brett would have found it odd that Ella hadn’t asked Jeff’s opinion if it wasn’t for what he already knew about Ella’s decision-making process regarding her move.

“Anyway, she told me that you’d called and told her that Chloe had left. She asked me to look in on you, Jeff. She’s worried about you.”

“She’s called a couple times since then. I didn’t pick up. She and Chloe...they’re close...and I don’t want to put her in the middle of this.”

Brett couldn’t tell if Jeff had any idea where Chloe was or not. But he’d get back to that.

“So what is...
this
? Why’d she leave you, man? Chloe’s nuts about you.” Or she had been the last time Brett had seen them together. Which would have been before the divorce. More than four years ago. Only a couple years after Jeff and Chloe had married.

Jeff waved a hand in the air, shaking his head. “We can talk about my problems later. For now, tell me why you’re here. I mean, I thought you weren’t coming around anymore because of Ella, but you say you ran into her. Dare I hope that this visit means what I think it means?”

Brett’s foot fell off his knee with a thud. He’d been so fired up to help his friend, coming up with the words he’d say to protect Ella’s secret, while proving to her that she was wrong about Jeff, that he’d missed the other side of this story.

“You and Ella getting back together?” Jeff asked, lifting his beer can in a toast before sipping. How a guy could drink through a grin plastered from one side of his face to the other, Brett didn’t know, but Jeff managed it.

“No!” Brett’s response was emphatic. Strong. Because it had to be. “No way, man. Don’t even go there. She just asked me to look in on you. She’s worried. Like I said.”

Jeff nodded. Still grinning. “Well, whatever, I’m sure as hell glad you’re here. I’ve missed you, man.”

Brett had missed Jeff, too. Far more than he’d allowed himself to realize.

So when Jeff asked if he could stick around, grill some steaks, maybe shoot some pool later, offering him the bed in the guest room, Brett agreed to stay.

Not for Ella. Or Chloe.

But because, for the first time in years, he felt as if he’d come home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

E
LLA WAITED ALL
day to hear from Brett.

He didn’t call, text or email.

On her way home from work, she drove by his house. If she saw his black BMW in the driveway, or saw him outside, she might stop. If it felt right.

There were no vehicles in his driveway. And no one in his yard, either. The shades were drawn. Used to be something he did only when he was going to be gone until after dark. And then there would be lights programmed to turn on before he got home.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of the dark. No, that would be more like her.

Brett just hadn’t liked walking into gloom.

Most particularly not in his home.

Funny, the things you remembered.

He’d said, when she’d left him in the parking lot the night before, that he was going to be home all weekend. She’d been left with the impression that speaking with Jeff was going to be his first priority. He’d said something about wanting to make contact before going back to work on Monday. He had a crazy week coming up.

But then, when didn’t he?

Brett had always worked harder than anyone she’d ever known.

He’d said he’d contact Jeff. So he would.

Now she would move on. There was no way she was going to let Brett linger in her mind during the two days off she had ahead of her. She and Chloe were going to shop, swim in the complex’s heated pool, watch a movie they’d both missed in the theater and look at some houses. They were going to take Cody to the park, to get chicken nuggets and to pick out his first, toddler-approved learning computer.

All without any thoughts of Brett Ackerman.

* * *

I
T HAD BEEN
a long time since Brett had shot pool. Since before he’d married Ella. Jeff cleared the table on him the first game.

But by the third, Brett was holding his own again. They were playing best of ten for the fifty-dollar bill sitting on one corner of the table. Eight ball. His call on the game. Next ten would be Jeff’s preference.

Taking a sip of beer from one of the two bottles sitting open on the bar, Brett assessed the fourteen balls remaining on the table.

“So what’s with Chloe?” he asked, bending to take a shot that, if properly executed, would leave his cue ball perfectly positioned to put the twelve ball in the corner pocket.

He made the shot. Exactly as planned. And was rounding the table to get set for the next hit as Jeff said, “I pray to God it’s just more of the postpartum depression she went through after Cody was born.”

He shot. Well. Then, cue stick suspended, he glanced over at his friend. “I didn’t know Chloe suffered from depression. Is she on medication?”

“Not anymore. And she was only depressed after Cody was born. The doctor said it just happens sometimes, part of the hormonal changes after a woman gives birth.”

“So, like, what did she do? Cry all the time?” It was important that he knew the facts. Proper assessments relied on them. And he was there to help.

“That, yeah, but for the first week or two she wouldn’t even hold the baby. She said he didn’t like her. That if she touched him, she’d make him cry.”

Brett listened as Jeff talked about the debilitating, though generally temporary, after-effect of birth that wasn’t commonly spoken about. At least not enough that he’d personally known of anyone who’d experienced it.

Had Ella struggled that way? Could it happen if the woman didn’t carry a baby full term?

Resting the bottom of his stick on the ground, he used it as a hand rest. “So you think, maybe, this...time away...is some sort of the same thing, except you’re the one she can’t make happy?”

Leaning back against one of the half dozen or so tan leather bar stools situated around the room, Jeff shook his head. But continued to meet Brett’s gaze head-on. “I don’t know, man.” His chin jutted. Trembled. “I truly don’t know. I’ve gone over every second, every hour, every day in my head. Again and again. Was there something I forgot? Not a birthday or anything major like that, for sure, but maybe some little remembrance, like the anniversary of our first kiss or something? Something I said that she took wrong? Something she found in my pocket that she might have misinterpreted...”

Senses honed even more than normal, Brett said, “Did you give her cause to misinterpret something?”

“Hell, no! Wait.” Jeff crossed his arms, trapping his pool cue against his body. “Are you asking me if I’ve been unfaithful to my wife?”

“You wouldn’t be the first guy...”

“No!” Taking hold of his cue stick, he stood. “I don’t even flirt with other women, just to make certain I don’t find myself in something I don’t mean to be in. I love my wife, Brett. I thought you of all people knew that.”

“I do.” Feeling a tug on emotions that were better off staying dormant, Brett stood toe-to-toe with his friend. “I do, Jeff. I’m just asking because the last I knew, Chloe felt the same way about you. You two...you’re that couple that makes it till you’re ninety and then dies within a day of each other because one can’t live without the other.”

Jeff’s chin dropped to his chest. And then he stood straight. “I have to believe she still feels the same way,” Jeff said. “That’s what keeps me going.”

He thought about what he wanted to ask. Speaking slowly as he chose his words carefully. “Have...you... Do you...have any reason...to think... Could there be...someone else? For her?”

Shaking his head, Jeff headed to his beer waiting on the bar. Helped himself to a big swig. And Brett, tense and feeling a little angry, missed his next shot.

“I’m going to be honest,” Jeff said, remaining by the bar, in spite of the fact that it was his turn. “Not that she ever gave me reason to doubt her, but after she left I went through everything. Searched her computer, her drawers. Her social-media accounts. I felt like a damned creep, but I just had to know, you know?”