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“Nah. I went ahead and sent Bear out to the front porch, but I’m officially off for the night.”
Cal asked, “Then how come you aren’t at the new movie, Power Force? That’s where I’d be goin’ if I didn’t have to work.”
Caleb laughed, and the rich normalcy of his voice washed through Allie. “You work a lot?” he asked his boy.
“Yeah. Mom makes me take out the trash. I have to make my bed, too. And sometimes when I forget to take the trash, she yells at me and I get talked to about ’sponsibilities.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“It’s hard. You ever take out the trash? And sometimes, if it’s raining, I even have to take out Miss Margaret’s trash.”
“Who’s that?” Caleb asked Allie.
“Next-door neighbor, and a good friend. Before all this mess with Francis, we used to hang out a lot at each other’s houses. I told her she’s still welcome to come over, but she says you all intimidate her.”
“Hmm…” The man Allie used to love rubbed his chin. A fine shadow of stubble had grown over the afternoon. Back in college, he’d sometimes shaved twice a day. And sometimes, when he’d chosen not to shave and they’d been messing around, he’d rubbed his rough cheeks on her neck or belly…. And she’d liked that feel. She’d wanted—
“You know,” he said to Cal. “I think maybe once or twice your mean old mom nagged me about taking out the trash. But then I wised up and took it out before she even had to ask.”
He shot a wink Allie’s direction, and her heart flip-flopped.
Cal wrinkled his nose. “That still sounds like too much work.” To his mom he asked, “Can I go watch TV and practice my knitting?”
“After you clear the table and put back the fridge stuff.”
“Aw, man.”
“Come on,” Caleb said, reaching across the table for the ketchup and butter, flooding Allie with his all-male scent. “I’ll help.”
In a few short minutes, the job was done, leaving Cal scampering off to the den for TV, leaving Allie alone with his no-longer-smiling dad.
“He’s good kid,” Caleb said, joining her at the table.
“Thanks. I think so.”
“But no way did I hear right in that he actually wants to practice knitting?”
“What’s wrong with knitting? It’s good for hand-eye coordination. Plus, if he ever gets a job in Alaska, he’ll be able to keep himself warm.”
Shaking his head, Caleb’s only response was a grunt.
After a few seconds spent folding a leftover paper napkin into a ship, he asked, “Cal get good grades?”
“As and Bs.”
“Any discipline problems?”
“Other than sass now and then, nothing serious.”
“What’d you tell him about me?”
The hardball question came from left field. It took a second to regain her composure. “I—I told him you died.”
Caleb cursed under his breath. Shook his head.
“Well?” she asked. “What was I supposed to say?”
He half smiled. “For being such a brilliant woman, you don’t have a clue.”
Chapter Three
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allie asked.
“Think about it. If you couldn’t stomach being around me, how hard would it have been to at least share custody of our son? What did I ever do to make you pull something this cold? Christ. You know how much I wanted to be a dad one day….”
“One day,” she said. “Not your junior year of law school. Not with marshal training after that. Not with endless hours of chasing bad guys and playing shootout till all hours of the night.”
“So basically, you’re saying you told Cal I died as a favor? So I wouldn’t be bothered?”
“Right.”
“And you actually believe that?” He pushed his chair back, putting her further on edge by standing directly behind her, rubbing her shoulders. Powerfully kneading, the way he’d always done after she’d had a hard day. “See, I’m thinking the whole thing goes deeper. Back to a little girl who lost her cop father at an impressionable age.”
Despite his all-too-pleasurable strokes, Allie froze.
“Know what else I think?” he asked.
“Wh-what?”
“You didn’t do this out of some saintly desire to shelter your son—our son—from pain. You were protecting yourself. That little girl inside was afraid that just like your old man, I’d get shot in the line of duty.”
Brushing Caleb’s hands from her shoulders, she said, “I should do the dishes.”
“Leave ’em.”
“What do you want from me?” she asked when he wouldn’t let her up.
“Simple. When this trial mess is over, I want joint custody of my son.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” she said, angry enough now that she easily broke his grip to stand. “No matter what you think, Cal is mine. And I’m not good at sharing.”
“You used to be,” Caleb said, devastating her with a wink and a smile of pure acid.
“Stop. This is serious.”
“Damned straight. Which is why, soon as I get back to Portland, I’ll be meeting with my lawyer.”
“Don’t,” she implored. “The whole legal route, it’ll only upset him.”
“Then what, your honor, in all your infinite wisdom, do you suggest?”
“You never used to be mean like this.” She headed for the sink.
“You never used to keep secrets. Remember how we’d lounge in bed, talking all night about every little thing? How we’d drag ourselves to class in the morning too tired to read, let alone walk, the two miles ’cross campus. But by the time we wound up back at your place, we’d be recharged, ready to share our days.”
“We were kids.”
“Oh, and so now that you’re all grown up, that makes it okay for you to hide the fact that I’m a dad?”
“No, I’m not saying it’s okay. I’m—geez, would you please just go. It’s been a really crappy day, and I need time to think. Breathe.”
“Sorry.” He stood behind her, not touching her, but close enough that she felt his heat. “I don’t mean to come on so strong, but you have to know, I’m not walking away from this. Cal is going to be told, Allie. Soon. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”
“Okay,” she said. “You’ve made your point.”
“And?”
“What?” She spun around, only to wish she hadn’t, because facing him straight-on was infinitely harder. “What else do you want from me? To run right in there, and shout, surprise, Cal! Your dad’s not dead. He’s standing right here, wanting to take you away from me.”
“That’s not what I want, it’s what—”
“Mom? I thought I heard yelling.” Their son stood at the kitchen door.
“No yelling,” Allie said, bustling to wipe down the counters. “Just screeching. I saw a spider. You know how I hate spiders.”
“Yeah,” Cal said to Caleb. “She does hate spiders.”
“I know,” Caleb said while Allie gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turned white. Why now? Why on top of everything else had Caleb had to reenter her life? Weren’t a few death threats enough to deal with for one week?
“Mom, can I have some ice cream?”
“Sure, baby.” She forced a smile. “What flavor?”
“I would want cookie dough, but that guy Adam ate it all.”
“My brother, Adam?” Caleb laughed.
“He gonna buy us more?” Cal asked as Allie filled his bowl.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, “I’ll make sure he brings you at least three tubs.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Once Cal was safely out of earshot back in front of the TV, Caleb said, “I’ll tell my brother to stay out of your fridge.”
“I don’t care,” Allie said. “Adam always did eat his own weight worth of food at least four or five times a day. Remember the time we slow-baked that huge ham to take to your dad’s for Thanksgiving, then came home from class to find Adam had eaten half, thinking it was lunch?”
Caleb smiled at the memory, as did she. And it was nice, at least for the moment, to share one of the more pleasant parts of their past rather than their rocky future.
“We had some good times,” Allie said. “Let’s not ruin those.”
“Who said I was trying to?”
“No one. I just—let me figure out a win-win solution for all three of us, okay?”
Brushing past her to help himself to ice cream, he said, “Great. That’s all I ask.” Gesturing to the sweet treat, he asked, “Want some?”
“Thanks.” She gave him her first real smile of the day. “That’d be good.”
“After that, how ’bout we watch TV with our boy?”
“You like SpongeBob?”
“I love SpongeBob—but I’m not knitting.”
BARELY ONE commercial break into the show, Allie was out, curled into a ball at the far end of the sofa from where Caleb sat. He swallowed hard, remembering how she used to fall asleep using his shoulder or lap for a pillow.
Slipping a blanket from the sofa’s back, he tossed it over her.
“Yo, Cal,” he said to his son. “What’s your bedtime?”
“Aw, man. It’s eight-thirty, but can’t I stay up just a little longer? I won’t tell Mom.”
“Sorry, pal. It’s nearly nine and you’ve got school work in the morning.”
“Five more minutes? I’ll do an extra good job of brushing my teeth.”
“Admirable negotiation skills, but no can do.” Caleb stood, held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
“Do I get a story?”
“Still going to do an extra good job on those teeth?”
Ten minutes worth of tooth brushing and scrambling into pajamas later, Cal was all set for bed.
Caleb, chest tight, drew back his son’s blue-and-red airplane sheets and comforter. Cal smelled like toothpaste and soap and kid sweat. Probably, he was supposed to have a bath, but seeing how he was still a virtual stranger to the boy, Caleb didn’t figure one night without a bath would hurt.
He was still furious with Allie for keeping these simple pleasures from him all these years, yet he was also so damned grateful she hadn’t lost their child. That she’d loved him to a degree she’d wanted to have his child.
She just hadn’t loved him enough to raise his child with him.
Weary of the past, Caleb asked, “Which book do you want to hear?”
“Dr. Seuss! Happy Birthday To You’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too.” Caleb took it from a nearby bookshelf, then flicked on the airplane lamp on Cal’s bedside table. “Like planes, huh?”
