“No,” she said, ramming on the ignition. “I thought—and I quote—’it’d be a cold day in hell’ before you did me any favors? Besides which, having you talk to Nathan is the last thing I need.”
“True, I said that. But my chat with your ex would be for your little girl. Seems to me after what just happened in there, she needs help from someone in getting the child support that’s rightfully hers. Might as well be me.”
“Stay out of it,” she said. “And whatever you do, stay away from Nathan.”
AFTER AN AWKWARD, silent dinner with his mother, then a polite hour of TV watching, Garret now found himself back on the front porch sitting in a too-small rocker. Crickets chirped. The smell of damp earth from the freshly watered garden mingled with the sweet scent of potted petunias lining the porch.
Outside, all was calm, so why, inside, did Constance’s request for help still haunt him?
Why did he care what happened with her job or Nathan?
It was a simple issue of right and wrong. Lots of times during grueling runs and missions, he’d had too much time to think, playing out scenarios, what-if dioramas of his life.
When his mom had told him Constance had had a quickie wedding to Nathan—probably because she was pregnant—Garret had wondered what if she’d gotten pregnant with his child? Lindsay could’ve been his. Lord knew they’d been careless enough. What twist of fate had made Lindsay Nathan’s instead of his little girl?
How would Garret’s life have been different?
His dream of entering the Navy was a noble kid fantasy. But if he’d discovered Constance had been carrying his child, he’d have no doubt followed in his father’s footsteps and been a lawyer. Sure, school would’ve been tough with a wife and kid, but he’d have managed. He still would’ve lived out his life fighting for the good guys.
So why had Nathan and Constance broken up?
Nathan had initially hidden his feelings for Connie well, but Garret had on more than one occasion suspected his supposed best friend of having a thing for her. Could anyone blame him? She’d been the school beauty. Their graduating class had numbered just under seventy, and though there’d been plenty of pretty girls, Constance had held most every title: Homecoming Queen, Miss Mule Shoe High, Head Cheerleader, Most Likely to Succeed. Nathan’s folks owned the biggest ranch for miles around, and Nathan had every toy imaginable. Every toy that is, except for the hottest girl.
What had ultimately driven Nathan to betray their friendship by making a play for Constance, Garret would never know. Just as he’d never know what she’d seen in Nathan to have run off with him. Another thing about Connie bugged Garret—why hadn’t she gone to college? Sure, she’d had the baby, but lots of women had children and still went to school. It wasn’t as if money would’ve been an issue, seeing how Nathan’s folks were well-off.
Swiping his fingers through his hair, Garret stared into the night, wishing his stupid leg would heal. Wishing even more that it’d never broke. That way, he could’ve come home to see his mom for Christmas—or even better, as he’d mostly done since leaving, sent her a plane ticket to somewhere with a beach where they could both meet up, away from gut-wrenching memories of what might’ve been.
Chapter Three
“Mom?” Lindsay asked, clutching Toby, her favorite rabbit, to her chest. “What’s up?”
“Nothing too exciting,” Constance said, looking up from the dismal family budget with a forced smile. In dusk’s gloom, she sat at the rolltop desk in the living room’s southwest corner, fingering the simple gold chain she always wore. Her stepfather used to sit there paying bills, as had her grandfather. Everything had worked out fine then, and it would now, too. By sheer will, if need be.
“Then how come you look so bummed?”
“Just my allergies,” Constance said, pushing back the rickety, straight-backed wood chair with its cracked black leather seat. “You know how I get this time of year.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay said, perching on the edge of the lumpy blue floral sofa. While scratching behind the rabbit’s floppy ears, she touched her chin to the top of his soft head. “I know.”
“You get your current events report finished?”
“Uh-huh. I found this cool story on a girl shark who swam from Australia to South Africa.”
“Sounds cool.” Constance closed the spiral notebook she used to keep track of finances—or rather, their lack thereof.
“Yeah, it is. You gonna come hear me give my speech? Miss Calloway said ’cause it’s spring open house, there’s gonna be cookies and stuff. And the big kids are having special speakers visit to talk about jobs. Kelly’s dad owns the video store. She said he’s handing out free movie coupons.”
“That’s nice of him.”
“Oh—and before I forget, Mrs. Conklin sent you some paper on a play we’re doing for the end of school program. I have to learn my lines and you have to help.”
“What’s the play?”
“Red Riding in the Hood—it’s supposed to teach us not to use drugs and stuff.”
“Sounds good.”
To get the budget further out of her mind, Constance shoved the notebook into a desk drawer, only she must’ve slammed it too hard as the wobbly knob they’d tried supergluing fell off in her hand.
Lindsay burst out laughing.
“Think that’s funny, do you?” Constance leaped up from the desk chair to push her daughter back on the sofa and tickle her good.
“Stop!” Lindsay shrieked, giggling and snorting and tickling Constance right back. “You’re gonna make me pee!”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you—”
A knock sounded on the screen door, then an all-too-familiar male voice asked, “This a private party, or can anyone join in?”
Constance froze. Closed her eyes and struggled for breath.
“Mom?” Lindsay asked. “Everything okay? Who is that?”
“No one special,” Constance said, back on her feet and tidying her hair.
Just your father.
“What’re you doing here?” Constance asked, opening the screen door only wide enough to poke her head through, hopefully making it clear that Garret wasn’t welcome.
“Truth?” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure. Guess I felt like we need to finish our talk.”
“What talk?” Constance asked, glancing over her shoulder to check where Lindsay might be lurking. To her horror, her daughter stood about three feet behind her.
“Hi,” Lindsay said to their unwanted guest. “Do I know you?”
“No!” Constance said after a gasp, pushing open the door, storming out, then slamming it behind her. Only, since it was a fairly puny antique wood door, she didn’t get much bang for her buck.
“You must be Lindsay,” he said, leaning heavily on the nearest rickety wicker chair, glancing around Connie to wave at her daughter through the screen. “I heard about your rabbits.”
“I like ’em lots,” Lindsay said, pushing at the door so hard in her attempt to get out that the screen’s trim dug into Constance’s back.
Lips pressed, Constance crossed her arms and stared off at the neighbor’s pasture. When she was a kid, all the land for as far as she could see had belonged to her parents. But over the years, tough times had forced her to sell