chapter ELEVEN
CAIT CHOSE THE BREAKFAST table for her great announcement. Filling her travel mug with coffee, Molly had just looked down and noticed, to her exasperation, that she’d slipped on navy-colored flats even though she wore black slacks. They probably weren’t that noticeable—but it would bug her all day. She’d want to hide behind her desk instead of getting out in the halls and classrooms. And, oh, heavens, she had that meeting about possible revisions in the plan for snow days.
“I’m not getting an abortion.”
There’d been such confusion with the first snowfall, all of two inches, with some buses completing full routes and others…
She turned in slow motion to stare at her daughter, who sat at the table with a bowl of cereal, as yet untouched.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
So many emotions rose in her, contradictory, painful and joyous, she choked. Was barely able to speak. “Cait…”
The slightly pointy chin set defiantly. “You said it was up to me.”
“Yes, but… Do you really understand what this will mean for you?” Molly shut her eyes for a moment. “Did you have to pick the worst time for us to talk about this? I can’t be late today.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Her hair fell forward, hiding her face as she bent over her cereal. “I’ll tell Trevor.”
Molly couldn’t seem to move. “Oh, honey.”
Cait looked again at her mother. Her eyes burned with some inner light. “I can’t do it, okay? I just can’t. Even if it means…I don’t know what.”
“I don’t know what, either. That’s the part we need to talk out, you know.”
“Yeah. Okay. I guess.” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed carefully beneath her eyes. “You know your shoes don’t go?” she said, sniffing.
Molly sighed. “I just noticed. Let me change and then we’d better get moving. If you want a ride.”
“It’s cold. I don’t want to walk.”
That, apparently, was that. Cait didn’t want to talk any more about it during the short drive to the high school. Molly’s thoughts were all but turning backflips. Had she somehow influenced Cait to decide against abortion, which—now, be honest with yourself—was really the most sensible decision for a girl her age? Was it really any better that her daughter was going to bear a child and give it away? And what about the practicalities in the meantime? Cait should be able to make it through first semester without her pregnancy being noticeable. She was unlikely to show at all before, say, mid-January at the soonest. She could keep dancing until then, too. But then what? Alternative school? Could I homeschool her? Molly asked herself wildly. Do we need or want to hide her pregnancy from the world? Is it really anything to be ashamed of?
Cait leaped out almost before the car came to a stop. She was hurrying away when Molly called after her. “If you want a lift home, you know where to find me.”
Cait flapped one hand that said, Like I don’t know, Mom? And do you really have to embarrass me by yelling after me in the parking lot?
Molly collected her briefcase from the backseat, locked the car and walked in a different direction, toward the admin building. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to talk to Richard.
And was afraid of what he’d say. Especially after he’d understood why she had personal issues with the abortion option.
She was opening the door when she spotted a group of senior boys getting out of a Camry with macho tires bigger than the manufacturer had recommended. Trevor.
He didn’t see her. She didn’t see Cait lying in wait. But Molly watched him laughing at something one of the other boys had said. They wrestled with each other in that rough-and-tumble way boys did.
Molly wondered when he’d laugh again.
* * *
“YOU DON’T MIND ME having invited Richard and Trevor for Thanksgiving?” Molly stabbed a fork into the potatoes to see if they were done.
“No.” Cait was dumping cranberry sauce into a small, cut crystal dish. “It’s cool you did. I mean, what would they have done?”
“Richard said probably go out. I gather he’s never done the whole turkey and stuffing thing.”
“It’s okay having them here. Mom, I can mash if you want to check the turkey.”
The doorbell rang, and Cait went to let the Wards in while Molly opened the oven and tugged at the drumstick. It almost came loose in her hand. The thermometer had popped, too. Definitely done. She grabbed two hot pads and lifted the roasting pan from the oven to the cutting board she’d laid on the counter.
“Smells great,” Richard said, smiling at her from the doorway. He looked good in dark slacks and a charcoal-gray V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up on strong forearms. Dark hair curled in the V of the sweater. No midday shadow on his jaw; he’d shaved and his hair, brushed back from his face, was still damp.
Molly controlled with difficulty an internal meltdown, returning his smile. “Welcome.”
From behind his father, Trevor eyed the turkey like a wolf might its freshly killed prey. Molly had a feeling she wouldn’t have as many leftovers as she’d envisioned.
“Anything I can do?” Richard asked.
“Um…maybe carve, once I get the stuffing out. Cait, why don’t you turn on the broccoli. I think we’ll be ready by the time it’s done.”
They all ended up helping—Trevor mashed while Cait heated rolls, Molly carried the yams to the table and lit candles. For once, they were eating at the mahogany dining room table she and Cait seldom used. Cait had set it with their good china, too, a wedding gift Molly had kept and still loved.
Once they sat down, Richard said a quiet grace, and they began to dish up.
“I’m sorry Brianna decided not to come,” Molly commented, adding green salad to her plate then passing the bowl on to Trevor, who sat to her right.
Richard looked up from the dressing he was ladling onto his plate. “I am, too. She says she’ll come for Christmas, though. Apparently Alexa has made plans.” His gaze flicked to his son. “With friends.”
Something dark crossed Trevor’s face. Molly saw muscles in Richard’s jaw spasm. When he didn’t say anything, she did. “I suppose it seems strange, the idea of not spending Christmas with your mother.”
“I don’t want to spend Christmas with her.” His voice was guttural. Too late, he tried to hide a tremor in the hand that held his fork.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He looked at her. “You don’t know.”
“No. I don’t.”
“I suppose you had the perfect, happy family.” His voice was ugly with sarcasm.
“No, she didn’t, and you don’t have to be so awful!” Caitlyn exclaimed.
Molly blinked.
Trevor’s head swung toward Cait. “I wasn’t…”
“You were! Mom grew up in foster homes, okay? She didn’t have a mom to be mad at.”
Molly’s heart swelled. She couldn’t have spoken to save her life.
A tide of red rose from Trevor’s neck to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ms. Callahan.”
Oh, help. I have to say something. After a deep breath, she managed, “It’s okay, Trevor. There have been times in my life when I was jealous of people who had regular families.” She made sure her gaze held his. “There’ve also been times when I’ve realized ‘regular’ from the outside isn’t necessarily better than what I had.”
He nodded and bent his head to his plate.
Molly reached out and squeezed Cait’s hand. The gesture was quick; she didn’t even look at her, and made no effort to prolong the moment. But she had to say thank you.
Then her eyes met Richard’s and she saw a tangle of emotion in his dark eyes as complex as what she felt. But he smiled, and she saw he meant it.
“I’m glad you decided to play basketball,” Molly said, cutting turkey on her plate.
Trevor mumbled something.
“What?”
“Some of the guys aren’t that glad.”
“Because you’re beating one of them out for a position.”
“Yeah.” He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “They’ve been a team. You know? I haven’t even been practicing, and now here I am.” He shrugged.
“Is it definite you’ll be starting Tuesday?” his father asked.
“That’s what Coach says.”
“Do you mind if I come? Or would you rather I didn’t?” Richard’s tone was careful, neutral.
Once again Trevor shrugged. “It’s an away game.”
“Not that far.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Good.” Richard smiled. “What about you, Molly? Do you go to games?”
“All home ones.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
Both the kids stared at them. Molly glanced at her daughter. “Cait, do you plan to go?”
“If I do, I’ll take the bus.”
“Do you mind…?”
“Why would I?”
They both knew why. Having your mom attending all official social events wouldn’t thrill any teenager.
But Molly smiled at both Richard and Trevor. “Then yes. I’d love to see Trevor play. And it would be fabulous if the team could beat Snohomish right out of the gate. We always lose to them.”
“That’s what Coach says.” Trevor reached with new enthusiasm for the bowl of dressing. “They can’t be that good.”
“It’s a way bigger high school than ours.”
“The team’s okay,” he said. “I think we have a good chance.” He stole a look at Cait. “It’s too bad you’re not a cheerleader.”
Wow. Would she have made it through the season? Basketball ended in early February—assuming West Fork didn’t make it to the playoffs. Which they usually didn’t, but they’d come close last year. Trevor might make the difference. That would extend the season well into Cait’s fifth month of pregnancy. No, Molly realized, it was lucky Cait hadn’t succumbed to her friends’ pleas and gone out for the squad.
“I like dance better,” Cait said, but subdued.
After a moment of silence—they were probably all calculating how pregnant she’d be—Trevor spoke. “You’ll come to the game, anyway, won’t you?”
Her chin was high, but her eyes showed vulnerability. “What difference does it make? You have friends.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Really? That’s not how it looked to me at Halloween.”
He gave a hunted glance at Molly and Richard. “I was mad.”
“You mean, pawing Ashley was for my benefit?” Any vulnerability had been replaced by sparks.
“Yeah.” He sounded and looked freaked. “Kind of. I mean, maybe.”
“Does she know that?”
“Well, not exactly. I didn’t say… And it’s not like we, you know…”
Before Cait could get her mouth opened, Molly lifted a hand. “Whoa. Can you two continue this somewhere else? Some other time? It’s way more than I want to know. And probably more than Trevor’s father wants to know, either.” Although she couldn’t be sure of that. What was inducing panic in her was the realization that Trevor might actually still like Cait. Love her? No, they were too young. Ridiculously young. But…think of the complications if they resumed their relationship. Imagined they really were in love. Talked about a future.
No, no, no.
Cait snorted, an indelicate sound. Trevor looked embarrassingly relieved. Richard, Molly saw with narrowed eyes, was amused. His kid wasn’t fifteen years old. Although surely the last thing he’d want was his kid losing the chance to go to college, just as he had.
Somehow or other, conversation found less dangerous paths, and the meal ended more pleasantly than it had begun. They all agreed to wait a little before they had pie. Richard offered to help clean up and gave his son the evil eye until he offered, too.
“If you’ll help me, why don’t we let these two off the hook? The kitchen isn’t big enough for four,” said Molly.
“Sure,” Cait said. “Let’s go upstairs. You can tell me why Ashley Jantz hasn’t run you down with her Corvette.”
Richard turned to Molly. “A kid drives a Corvette?”
“Daddy is a big-time contractor and loaded.”
“Jantz?” He stared at his son. “You’ve been messing with Gordon Jantz’s daughter?”
“I wasn’t messing with her!”
“Yes, you were,” muttered Cait.
“Aargh!”
“Shoo,” Molly told them, flapping her hands.
They went. The argument rose in volume until it was finally cut off upstairs by the bedroom door.
“He’s in deep shit,” Richard remarked, picking up the turkey platter and serving bowl.
“Good,” Molly snapped.
“What?” He followed her to the kitchen.
Fired up herself, she set the pile of plates on the counter and faced him. “You don’t want our children to have a big romance at this point, do you? Why don’t you think that one through?”
He did, with commendable speed. “You’re right. I don’t. I want to have a romance with you, and something tells me the two relationships aren’t compatible.”
“You think?” She huffed and went back for more dishes.
He did the same. “Molly, I never said I wanted them to get back together. God. What I’d like is to see my son behave honorably. Support Cait. Not make sure she sees him with his hands all over some other girl only because he wants to hurt her feelings. That’s all I meant.”
Her shoulders sagged as she dropped a handful of silverware in the sink. “I’m sorry. I do see that. Listening to them, I had this horrible vision of them running off to get married, drugged by young love.”
“Is that what you did?” he asked gently, and the next moment he’d set down his own load and put his hands on her shoulders. When he turned her to face him, his eyes were warm and understanding.
“Yes.” Why was she nearly hyperventilating? “No. Oh, I suppose I thought I was in love. Colt was older, sexy, charismatic.... But mostly, I was pregnant. And I wanted a family.”
It was as simple as that, she realized in a kind of horror. She had so desperately wanted something she’d lost. Even though she’d had a huge crush, for want of a better word, on Colt, she wasn’t thinking marriage and forever…until she got pregnant. And then, suddenly, there it was—a shimmering possibility. And she’d grabbed at it. A dream.
Studying Richard’s face with sudden intensity, Molly couldn’t help wondering. She’d said to him, I’ve been dreaming, too. Was that what this was? Whatever she felt for him? A fantasy, and not real at all? An image of them all as a family?
“What are you thinking?” he asked, searching her face with equal intensity.
“I’m panicking,” she whispered.
He tugged her closer. “Don’t. Not about us. Damn it, Molly! We have lives separate from our kids. We have a right to have lives of our own. Don’t mix all of this into one stew.”
But she couldn’t help seeing with extraordinary clarity that Cait’s and Trevor’s problems were too interconnected to separate from anything she and Richard tried to build. Unless he was talking about sex and only sex. An affair they could somehow keep separate from their children.
How could they? This was a small town. Sneaking around seemed sordid. She realized she’d hate it if he suggested a night away at a motel or something like that.
But I want him, she all but wailed. I do. Why can’t I have him?
Maybe…maybe they’d have to wait, at least until Trevor had left home. They were adults. It wouldn’t kill them to wait a few months.
Yes, but what if Trevor didn’t leave for college until next September? That was ten months away. Worse yet, what if he went to college locally, maybe even continued to live with his dad?
No matter what, by then I will be grieving the loss of Cait’s child, Molly thought bleakly. And along with this baby, everything else I’ve ever lost, or known I couldn’t have.
I am pathetic.
What had he said? We’ll work it out. Her rejoinder: But not necessarily well.
But maybe their time would come. Or maybe with time she’d realize she didn’t want this—whatever it was—to amount to anything.
Right now, though, she gazed into those extraordinarily dark eyes and feared, terribly, that she’d fallen in love with this man, and that their time wouldn’t come, because too much was in their way. And, dear God, she felt selfish even thinking that, when she’d just renewed her resolve that Cait would come first.
* * *
RICHARD HAD NEVER SEEN SO many conflicting emotions on one person’s face. It scared the crap out of him. What was she thinking? What could be making Molly look so heartbroken?
A feeling of desperation drove him to step forward and pull her into his arms. Before she could object, he kissed her, and not gently. It was a full-out, open mouth assault on her senses. Triumph filled him when, after a stunned moment, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Her breasts felt so damn good against his chest, her thighs against his. Her height coupled with her heels meant he didn’t have to bend far to devour her mouth. His erection pressed against her where it felt the best. Groaning, he grabbed her hips to move her against him. The vibration in her throat sounded like a purr. She was doing some rubbing of her own. In another second, he was going to lift her onto the counter and pull that sweater up. He wanted to see her breasts more than he wanted the sun to rise tomorrow. To bury his face between them, to lick, taste, suckle....
“No.” She went utterly still in his arms. “This is crazy.”
His body throbbed painfully. His hands squeezed her hips. He didn’t know if he could stop. Knew he didn’t want to, even as he also knew she was right.
“The kids could come downstairs anytime,” he remembered. He was hoarse with regret.
“That’s not what I mean, but it’s true. They could. Richard.” She swallowed. “This is too complicated. We need to think.”
Think? His brain cells had melted down a good long time ago. Restoring function didn’t happen that fast.
“Please. Let’s…let’s clean the kitchen and not give them any reason to be suspicious.”
That was too much. “Why should we be ashamed of having a relationship?”
“I’m not ashamed. But I know where my focus needs to be.”
He’d never expected to be jealous of how much a woman loved her child. For a minute he thought, And the kid’s a spoiled brat besides, then was ashamed of himself. It wasn’t even true. Caitlyn was confused, scared, in turmoil. Spoiled? This was a girl whose own father couldn’t be bothered to give her even an occasional day of his time, who apparently didn’t believe she counted because she wasn’t male and therefore worthy of being a Callahan the Fourth. Trevor and Bree at least knew both their parents loved them, even if they’d had to live with the consequences of their family splitting.
Yeah, so what was Trevor’s excuse?
Richard nodded to Molly and turned to go back to the dining room. They worked after that in near total silence, some of the ease between them gone. His body still ached, and he realized he felt a whole lot of other things, too. He was hurt, because she had a cooler head than he did and, apparently, more reservations. Or was less powerfully drawn to him. And yes, jealousy lingered and he was uncomfortable with that. There was resentment because these two kids had turned all of their lives into high drama and were determined to stay in the spotlight. And he was still scared by that expression he’d caught on Molly’s face.
They all got through pie, which Cait had again baked, and he and Trevor made their excuses shortly thereafter. Richard couldn’t tell what had happened between Trev and Cait upstairs. They weren’t yelling at each other when they came down, but they weren’t talking easily, either, and they sure weren’t holding hands or giving each other lovelorn looks.
No, the only lovelorn looks would have been from him, if he hadn’t had to stifle them.
“Good dinner,” he said, once he’d pulled away from the curb.
“Yeah.” Trev sounded preoccupied.
“Trevor.” Richard waited until he was sure he had his son’s attention. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me what happened with your mom?”
“No!” Trevor jerked back, coming up against the passenger door. “Why would I?”
“A better question is why won’t you?”
“Oh, come on.” His lip curled. “You know what Mom’s like.”
“I’m not so sure I do.” Richard accelerated slightly to make a green light.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve actually seen your mother face-to-face?” Silence. “I was thinking about it the other day. Six or seven years, give or take a few months. And before that all we had were brief meetings in the airport when we handed you off.” He’d hated those flights made to pick up or return his children. “It’s been a lot longer than that since we had a meaningful conversation. Ten, eleven years, at least. I don’t know your mother anymore.”
There was a long, long silence. Richard waited it out. Trevor was a smart kid. Let him think it through.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he finally muttered.
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Richard said wearily.
Shrug.
They’d reached home. Richard reached up to press the button on the remote control and pulled into the garage. Trevor shot out of the pickup and raced into the house before Richard so much as set the emergency brake.
Another highly successful, father-son moment, he thought with renewed frustration and depression.
* * *
MOLLY HAD CONSENTED to drive to Snohomish with him for Tuesday night’s game, which was something. Richard was determined not to press her for anything but conversation. They kept it light during the forty-minute drive, although he knew she was sneaking glances at him, probably trying to nail down his mood.
She looked good tonight. Really good. He’d felt a rush of hunger when he picked her up. She wore a turtleneck, tighter jeans than usual and athletic shoes. She had her hair in a ponytail, which made her look ridiculously young and left tiny tendrils of softer hair at her temples and nape. Once they arrived, watching the sway of her hips as she climbed the bleachers ahead of him came close to killing him.
He’d seen Trevor play only a few times. Last year he’d flown down to Sacramento when the team played in a three-day-long tournament and had felt such pride, he’d had a hard time not jumping to his feet and bragging to everyone in the stands, “That’s my kid. Mine.”
He felt the same tonight. Trevor might have what it took to make it to the pros. Richard had been good, good enough to be wanted by some top college programs. But he’d known in his heart that he was done growing, which left him too short to be a forward on a professional level, and he wasn’t quick enough to be a guard.
Trevor was different. For all his grace and athleticism, it was obvious that he wasn’t done growing. His feet still looked too big for his body; he had that lankiness a kid has when his body is unfinished. Like Molly, Lexa had been tall for a woman, so Trevor got it from both parents. Richard was willing to bet he’d end up two or three inches taller than his old man. And if he didn’t…he was quick. And he had a hell of an outside shot.
When the team first began warming up, he casually sent up a shot from so far away, Richard, and probably everyone else in the stands and on the court, had stared in disbelief. The perfect arc ended with the ball swishing through the net. Trevor paid no attention to the resultant silence followed by murmurs.
Molly had leaned close to Richard and murmured, “Show-off.”
“Yeah.” He’d laughed. “I think that’s exactly why he did that. He’s putting a scare into the other team.”
The game was intense from the first drive down the court. A Snohomish player put up a shot and Trevor sprang up and smacked it away from the hoop. One of his teammates snatched the ball, passed it to the West Fork guard and ten players tore the other direction down the court.
At halftime West Fork led by two points. The team was outclassed by Snohomish—except for Trevor. He was everywhere, as strong at defense as he was at offense. His slam dunk was primitive and powerful, his outside shot a thing of beauty. Richard could only watch in awe.
Molly, he discovered, was a vocal supporter. She yelled encouragement, she moaned disappointment, she laughed, she clapped, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an earsplitting whistle that had Trevor looking up from a time-out huddle and grinning right at her.
That grin socked Richard in the chest. It was delighted, triumphant, filled with a young male’s vanity and a boy’s mischief. He hadn’t seen that grin in a long time.
“Oh,” she said finally, sagging to the creaking bleacher seat. “I don’t know if I’ll survive the game, never mind the season. Oh, Cait!” She waved at her daughter, who was bounding up the bleachers to them. “He’s amazing.”
“Did you see him, Mom?” Her face was alight. “I knew he was supposed to be good, but…wow.”
“I’ve seen him play, and I didn’t know he was that good,” Richard said. “We could end up with recruiters from every major basketball powerhouse in the nation knocking on our door.”
“Will they even see him play?” Molly asked. “He’d have been better staying in L.A. if he wanted to get noticed, wouldn’t he?”
“Probably, but I think he’ll get noticed no matter what.” He was giddy. That’s my kid.
He could tell Molly was laughing at him the rest of the game, when she wasn’t on her feet screaming her own delight. Trevor had been dominant in the first half; he ran away with the second. He stole the ball, took it down court himself, dunked, did layups, took wild outside shots. But he wasn’t all hot dog, he also played team ball. Perfect passes, so smooth they looked effortless, had West Fork defeating last year’s league champions by fourteen points.
When the final buzzer went off, Molly jumped up and down and hugged Richard. “We killed them! We killed them.”
Grinning, he lifted her in his arms and stole a kiss. “Yeah, we did.”
The whole West Fork contingent was jumping up and down. The bleachers thundered and groaned.
They went outside to wait by the bus for the players to come out of the dressing room. It was so cold, they all hunched in their parkas and breathed in dragon puffs but stayed warm from excitement. When the boys swaggered out, the applause was loud and long. Molly loosed another whistle, which had all the boys grinning this time. Richard saw Cait roll her eyes—oh, God, her mother was making a spectacle of herself—but she was smiling at the same time, and her cheeks were pink.
They got pinker when Trevor stopped to put an arm around her and murmur something in her ear. That silenced Molly and Richard both. He remembered what she’d said Thursday. No, he definitely did not want Trevor imagining himself in love with Caitlyn—the mother of his child.
Disaster that way lies.
Was Trevor smart enough to understand what he’d be giving up if he did something stupid now?
Richard almost groaned. The kid was seventeen. Of course he wasn’t. Good God, he wasn’t smart enough to use a damn condom.
Maybe, it occurred to Richard, the easing of tension between the Callahans and the Wards hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe it would have been better if they’d stayed enemies.
Maybe Molly was right, and they should do some serious thinking before they all got in over their heads.