Читать книгу Daughters Of The Bride - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 11
ОглавлениеRACHEL WAS CONFIDENT that laundry multiplied in the night. What had been a single load a couple of days ago was now four. Five if she did Josh’s sheets. He would tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she thought differently.
She glanced at the clock and held in a groan. It was five on Sunday afternoon. She’d worked late the previous day with the idea that on a weekend when Josh was with his dad, she could earn a little extra money. Which was great, but by the end of her workweek, she was always exhausted. That had turned into sleeping late, which she probably needed, but it didn’t get any of her chores done.
She’d done grocery shopping, paid some bills and spent the past two hours weeding in the yard. In between, she’d baked cookies, put a stew in the Crock-Pot and made her son’s lunch for the following day. Now she faced laundry and cleaning the kitchen. Once Josh got home—which should be any second now—they would go over his homework, assuming his father had remembered to make him do it, review his schedule for the week and then watch a show for an hour before bed. And starting tomorrow, she would do it all over again.
She put the whites in the washer, added detergent and bleach, then hit the start button. She already had the baseball uniforms in the sink in the laundry room. Between the grass stains and the ground-in dirt, those had to be pretreated or they would never get clean. Honestly, she didn’t know how professional sports organizations kept their uniforms so nice. Maybe they didn’t bother. Maybe every player wore new ones for each game.
She heard footsteps in the front of the house followed by a familiar “Mom! I’m home!”
There were a million things to do and she was still tired and maybe a little cranky, but none of that mattered. Josh’s voice was the best sound in the world, and knowing he was back made everything a little easier.
She walked toward the living room and smiled when she saw her son.
He was tall for his age. All gangling with too-long arms and legs. At eleven, he was on the verge of adolescence. His voice hadn’t changed yet and he’d yet to get a single chin hair, but she knew that was coming.
He’d inherited his father’s dark hair and eyes, but her smile. He was a good kid. Smart, caring, generous. Easygoing. Now he dropped his duffel on the floor and hurried to greet her.
“Dad bought me a new glove,” he said, holding it out in one hand while he reached for her with the other. He gave her a quick hug, then he stepped back and offered the glove.
“It’s exactly what I wanted. Dad and I played catch yesterday, to break it in, then he hit balls and I caught them. Try it on.”
She slid her hand into the glove and was surprised when it wasn’t too small for her.
“Is this an adult size?” she asked.
Josh grinned. His too-long hair fell into his eyes and he swept it back with a gesture that reminded her too much of his father. “Uh-huh. The guy at the store said I was in between, so we decided it made sense to get the bigger one.”
She held up her right hand and he held up his left. They both spread their fingers. Rachel was stunned to discover her eleven-year-old son’s hand was nearly as big as hers.
“When did that happen?” she asked.
Josh laughed. “I’m going to be as tall as you soon, Mom. Then taller.”
“I can’t decide if that’s good or bad,” she admitted.
“Me, either.”
The voice came from behind her. She took a second to brace herself against the inevitable reaction to seeing her ex-husband, then turned.
“Hello, Greg.”
“Rachel.”
He looked good, but wasn’t that always the way? Every time she saw him, she looked for some sign that he was aging. Decaying would be better. But there was only the ever-present handsome face, perfect hair and sex-god-like body.
“I thought I’d go get pizza for dinner,” he told her. “The usual for you?”
She wanted to say no. That she wasn’t interested in eating with him. That pizza was the last thing she needed. That her constant exhaustion, and the feeling that no matter how hard she worked the best she could hope for was to not lose ground, had led to a horrible snacking habit that was taking its toll on her body. That or elves were shrinking her clothes while she slept.
She felt fat and old and tired, while he got to be handsome and toned and in his prime. Of course, if she had every other day off, she would have time to do things like eat right and exercise. If she lived with someone who cooked the meals and cleaned the house and took care of every other chore, she wouldn’t be so rushed or exhausted. If she wasn’t the custodial parent, then...
She drew in a breath. The mental litany wasn’t new, nor was her frustration. But there was much she couldn’t change and more she didn’t want to. Being Josh’s mother, having him most of the time, was important to her. The price of that was one she was willing to pay. The same with the house. She needed to be here. The rest of it would take care of itself.
“Pizza would be fine,” she said, thinking the Crock-Pot dinner would keep for tomorrow.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Doing laundry, getting meals ready for the week. The usual.”
“How can I help?”
The unexpected question stumped her. Help? Greg didn’t help. He played. He surfed with his best friend, Jimmy. He hung out with the other firefighters. He tinkered with his truck.
“I’m fine,” she told him. “Did Josh do his homework?”
“Uh-huh, and I checked it. The essay needed some work, but he did great on the math.”
“Good. Only another month until summer vacation. I’m going to have to look into the park camp for him.”
An expense that would eat into her budget. Greg would pay for half of it, but she would have to cough up the rest.
“I’ll get you my work schedule for the next two months this week,” Greg told her. “Once I have it, let’s sit down and plan out the summer as best we can. I can be responsible for him on my days off. If he’s in camp, I can take him and pick him up so it’s one less thing for you to deal with.”
She told herself not to be surprised. While Greg hadn’t been that great a husband, he’d always cared about Josh. Although he wasn’t into the details, no one could doubt his love for his son.
“It would be nice if he could spend more time with you,” she said cautiously.
“Then it’s a plan.”
She nodded.
He flashed her a smile. “I’m going to get the pizza. You didn’t say if you wanted your usual.”
“Yes, please.”
“Then we’ll be right back.”
Josh returned from taking his things to his room. “Can I have soda, Mom?” he asked.
“No.”
He laughed. “One day you’re going to say yes.”
“One day you’re not going to ask.”
“Never gonna happen.”
“I did make cookies.”
He gave her a quick hug. “You’re the best.”
“Put that in writing.”
“I could paint it on the garage door.”
“That would be nice.”
Greg held open the front door. “You say that now, but if he really did it, you’d be pissed.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” she told him. Because helping Josh paint phrases on the garage door was exactly something Greg would do. He would think it was funny.
Rachel set the table. She got a beer for Greg, a glass of wine for herself and juice for Josh. In the distance, the washer chugged away. She checked the Crock-Pot, then went to change the sheets on Josh’s bed.
Her son’s room was big and bright, with a large window and an oversize closet. Sports equipment was strewn everywhere, along with clothes and sports magazines. About once a quarter she got on him to clean up the space, but most of the time she simply let him be or picked up herself.
Now she put away the clothes he’d taken to his dad’s, putting still-clean shirts on hangers and throwing the dirty clothes into the hamper in his closet. She pulled back the comforter and blanket before tugging off the sheets.
She retreated to the hallway linen closet to collect clean bedding. The smooth cotton fabric was a solid color now. Gone were the cars and trucks Josh had once loved. He was growing up so fast.
She remembered when he’d been born—so small and helpless. She and Greg had been overwhelmed. They were the first of their friends to get married, get pregnant and have a baby. Lena had followed six months later and by then Rachel had considered herself an expert. But those first few weeks had been terrifying.
It wasn’t supposed to have happened that way, she thought as she pulled the fitted sheet over the corners of the mattress. She and Greg had wanted to travel for the first five years of their marriage, then start a family. But she’d forgotten her birth control pills at home on their honeymoon and he hadn’t wanted to wear a condom. One thing had led to another.
It had always been that way with them. Too much, too fast. Back in high school, he’d been the most popular guy around. Two years older, he’d been a senior while she’d been a lowly sophomore. She hadn’t realized he’d known her name until he stopped her in the hall outside her English class. He’d smiled at her and asked her out. Just like that. In front of God and everyone.
She’d said yes because he was Greg, and even then she’d been unable to resist him. As she smoothed the top sheet into place, she recalled how nervous she’d been. About everything. She’d never been on a date before. She hadn’t even been sure her mother would let her go. But Maggie had had a meeting with one of her accounting clients and hadn’t made it home until late. By then, Rachel was out with Greg and nothing would ever be the same again.
She finished making the bed and carried the dirty sheets to the laundry room. By the time she’d transferred the clean clothes to the dryer and put in a second load, Greg and Josh were back.
“The Dodgers are tied,” her son informed her when she walked into the kitchen. His tone was pleading. “It’s a really important game.”
Which should have impressed her. Only, in Josh’s opinion, they were all important.
“Are you saying you’d rather watch TV than eat dinner with your parents?” she asked, pretending to be shocked at the notion.
“Please, Mom.”
How much longer would he ask rather than simply do? How many more years until the hormones kicked in and she became nothing but an irritation in his life?
When it was just the two of them, she generally agreed. Often she joined him in the living room to watch whatever game was on TV. But if she said yes tonight, she would be dining alone with Greg. Did either of them want that?
She risked a glance at her ex. Greg shrugged. “He loves the Dodgers. It’s fine with me.”
Josh whooped, as if all was now decided, then hurried into the living room to set up a TV tray. Seconds later the sounds of the baseball game were audible. He returned to the kitchen, put two giant slices on a plate, grabbed his glass of juice and disappeared again.
“We’ll miss you,” Greg called after him.
A mumbled response came in reply.
“Kids,” he said with a grin as he took the seat across from hers. “What are you gonna do?”
He held open the smaller of the two boxes of pizza. She saw the veggie with extra cheese she liked but rarely got. Because when it was just her and Josh, it didn’t make sense to pay for an extra pizza or toppings.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she took a slice.
He set a couple of the all-meat slices on his plate.
“What did you two—”
“How was your—”
They spoke at the same time. Rachel looked away, then back at him. “What did you and Josh do this weekend?”
“We spent a lot of yesterday shopping for his glove. We went to three different stores before finding the right one.”
Which meant they’d gone way out of Los Lobos. Something that would make her crazy—mostly because of the time. But Greg wouldn’t mind. He’d always been more adventurous than her. There was a reason he’d chosen a job that put his life on the line.
As he talked about the different gloves they’d looked at, she remembered what he’d been like that first night they’d gone out. She’d been beyond scared. Barely sixteen and she’d been kissed only one other time.
After dinner, they’d gone to the park. The night had been warm—too warm. The unseasonable temperature had meant lying in the grass was comfortable. They’d found a secluded spot and settled down. He’d kissed her. She still recalled how magical his mouth had felt on hers. He hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t taken too much, and they’d kissed for what felt like hours. Then he’d touched her breasts.
No one had ever done that, and she’d been unprepared for the tingles that had swept through her. Her head had warned her to stop him, but her heart had whispered that this was Greg, and anything he wanted to do had to be right. Her body had loved the heat and excitement his touch had generated. She hadn’t known she could feel such things. One thing had led to another, and before she’d realized what was happening, she was naked and he was inside her.
The feeling of being swept away had ended the second he’d taken her virginity. Pain was a quick road to reality. She’d thought about telling him to stop, but it was really too late. So she’d waited the three or four seconds until he’d finished, then had gotten dressed.
Neither of them had spoken on the drive home. She’d jumped out of his car and raced inside—not sure what to think. She’d done something wrong, she knew that much. A slut. If her mother ever found out...
The next morning Rachel had thought about faking being sick. Only, she didn’t want anyone asking about her. Speculation was death. Better to simply pretend to be fine and get through the day.
She’d been shocked to find Greg waiting for her as she left the house. He’d told her they had to talk. Reluctantly, she’d gotten into his car, even though she had no idea what they were going to say. They’d done it. Now they had to deal with having done it. What was there to say?
Apparently, a lot.
“Are you okay?”
Not the question she’d expected. She’d nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he told her earnestly, his dark gaze locked on her face. “Not that we had sex, but because it happened so fast. It should have been after we’d been going out for like six months, and been a lot more romantic.” His concern turned sheepish. “I kept waiting for you to tell me no, and when you didn’t—” He shrugged. “I couldn’t believe you were going to let me do that.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re you. Everybody loves you.”
“Do you?”
Love him? Did she? “I don’t really know you. I know of you, but that’s different.”
“So you’re saying you used me for sex.”
After that time in the park, she would have sworn she would never laugh again, never smile, never feel good about herself. But right then, she couldn’t stop her lips from curving up.
“I wish I was brave enough to do that,” she admitted. “But I’m not.”
“You’re the most confusing girl I’ve ever known. And the prettiest. Can I drive you to school?”
She’d said yes and that had been the beginning of their relationship. They’d dated exclusively until she’d graduated from high school and then they’d gotten married.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, drawing her back to the present. “And don’t say nothing. It’s obvious you didn’t find my glove descriptions riveting.”
“Sorry. I was just going over what I have to get done this week.” A flat-out lie, but there was no way she was going to admit to reminiscing. While their marriage had been her whole world, Greg hadn’t felt the same way. He’d cheated on her.
“Josh’s game’s Wednesday afternoon, right?” he asked. “I want to make sure I’m there.”
“Yes. It’s at four.” She picked up her pizza slice and took another bite.
“I know you’re one of the team moms. Anything I can do to help with that?”
As a team mom, she was expected to collect money from the other parents to pay for drinks and snacks. She was also in charge of making sure the equipment was collected at the end of the game. If any was left behind, she brought it home with her until the next practice. There were usually two team moms. Heather was the other one, but she was turning out to be a flake.
“I’m good,” she told him.
“You sure? Josh mentioned that Heather hadn’t remembered to bring snacks last time. I could take care of that.”
“I’m handling it. Besides, you have to miss some of his games for work.”
“Yeah, but I could help when I’m not working. You wouldn’t have to do it all yourself.”
“I don’t mind.”
“At least that way you know it will be done right?” he asked. The tone was light, but there was something in his words.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t trust easily.”
She put down her pizza and glanced toward the living room. When she returned her attention to Greg, she made sure her voice was low.
“If you’re asking if I trust you, I would say it depends. You’re a good father and I appreciate that. Josh needs his dad in his life. As for the rest of it, we’re divorced, Greg. What does it matter what I think of you?”
He pushed his plate away. “You’re never going to get over what happened, are you? It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you I’m sorry. That I want to make things right. You don’t care. I screwed up and you can never forgive me.”
Her stomach started to hurt. “You don’t care about my forgiveness. You just don’t like being the bad guy. It cuts into your self-image. Get over it. Like I said, you’re a good father. I never say anything bad about you to Josh. We work well with him. That’s more than most divorced couples have.”
“Don’t you ever wish we could be friends again? There were rough times while we were married, Rachel, but there was a lot of good, too.”
There had been, she thought to herself. Lots of laughter and love. At least at first. But then things had changed. She’d grown up and he hadn’t. While she’d taken care of their child and their house, Greg had gone out with his friends. He might have cheated only after ten years of marriage, but he’d let her down a long time before that.
“I like things how they are now,” she told him. “Separate. You have your life and I have mine.”
For a second she thought he was going to protest. To say he wanted something else. Something more.
Her chest tightened and her heart pounded. Hope, anticipation and fear blended into a churning mess that didn’t sit well with her pizza. Because no matter what face she showed to the rest of the world, she knew the truth. That despite what she said and how she acted, she’d never gotten over Greg. It wasn’t that she couldn’t forgive him, it was that she couldn’t forget him. He’d obviously moved on and she was stuck still in love with him.
“That’s what I thought,” he told her, his voice resigned. “What’s done is done and there’s no going back.”
The hope shriveled and died, much like her heart had done that day two years ago when she’d taken one look into his eyes and had known the truth.
“I should be going,” he told her. “Have a good week.”
“You, too.”
He called out a goodbye to Josh, then let himself out the back door. Rachel wrapped up the rest of her small pizza. She couldn’t eat any more tonight. And while Josh would protest the lack of meat, he would still snack on it tomorrow when he got home from school.
Later, after her son was in bed, Rachel sat alone in the living room. The house was quiet, the only sounds coming from outside when a car drove by. She told herself that everything was fine, that she was doing okay, but she knew she was lying about all of it.
* * *
Quinn stared at the house. It was three stories and about forty-two hundred square feet. Big windows, a nice yard, on a quiet street.
“Never gonna work,” Wayne announced.
“You haven’t seen the inside,” Quinn pointed out. “What if it’s perfect?”
Wayne—a sixtysomething former marine—sighed the sigh of those cursed with too much intelligence who were forced to deal with ordinary mortals.
“I’ll explain it to you Barney-style,” he said, speaking slowly.
Quinn held in a grin. Explaining something Barney-style meant speaking slowly and simply, as if to a child. Wayne was nothing if not colorful.
The older man had been with him about seven years. Before that he’d been a dispatcher for a trucking company and before that a marine. They’d met under unusual circumstances. When Wayne’s son had died, he’d tried to drink himself to death. Quinn had been the one to take him in and sober him up. Then he’d offered him a job as his assistant. He’d been shocked as hell when Wayne had accepted.
“You Barney-style all you want,” he said. It was Monday morning. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and he needed more coffee. Having Wayne walk him through the details just might be entertaining enough to make him forget his lack of caffeine.
“It’s not a verb,” Wayne grumbled. “You’re getting the phrase all wrong. Damned civilians.”
Quinn held out his hand. Zealand groaned, then handed over five bucks. Because whoever got Wayne to complain about the world not being “marine enough” first won five dollars.
Quinn pocketed it, then nodded at Wayne. “Tell me why this isn’t a good idea.”
Wayne swore under his breath. “There’s not enough parking,” his assistant began. “We could pave over the grass, but you know the neighbors are going to complain. All those windows—” He pointed to the front of the house. “Every one of those is a place for noise to get in from the street and out from the studio.”
“I produce music, not noise,” Quinn protested.
“That’s what you call it. The folks who live in the neighborhood won’t agree. What are you going to do? Cover the windows and put up soundproofing?”
Quinn looked at Zealand, who shrugged.
“Then why have windows?” Wayne asked. “You’re running a business that goes late into the night. You can’t have bands coming and going at two in the morning. This is a small town, boss. They have their ways.”
“What do you know about small towns?” Quinn asked.
“Enough.”
“I take it you’re not a fan.”
“Not really. But you said you wanted to move here, so here I am.”
“Poor Wayne.”
“Yeah, I’m suffering.”
Zealand chuckled.
Quinn thought about what his assistant had said. “You’re right. A house doesn’t make sense. Why don’t the two of you go check out some industrial spaces? But they have to be relatively quiet. We can’t be next to some factory that bangs all day and night.”
“Right. Because only the bands can do that.”
Quinn looked at him. “Which kind of banging do you mean?”
Wayne frowned. “Both, I guess.”
“You’ve learned our ways well, young Obi-Wan.”
Wayne sighed again. “You’re really moving here.”
“I am. You’ll learn to love it. There’s a boardwalk and a pier. It’s over a hundred years old.”
“Piers do not get better with time.”
“Lots of families with kids. Teenagers during spring break. What could be more perfect?”
Wayne started for the car. “Are you talking? Because all I hear is a buzzing sound.”
“Speaking of buzzing, there’s a very famous honeybee that summers here sometimes.”
“You say one more word about the bees and I’m going back to LA. I mean it. I’ll quit.”
Zealand chuckled as he slid into the backseat.
Quinn started the engine of the Bentley. “The Drunken Red-nosed Honeybee is known to be industrious and gentle.”
Wayne rested his head in his hands. “Kill. Me. Now. That’s all I ask.”
“Sorry, my friend. You’re the only one with that kind of training. You’re going to have to suck it up and suffer. Like you always do.”
Wayne straightened. “Tell me about it. My life is pain.”
