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“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Roger didn’t bother to correct her since she’d have a birthday in a few months.
“I was about your age when I met your father.”
“Em was a handful,” Roger said, recalling the many times they had fought.
“Maybe,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But I never got a tattoo.”
Samantha covered her mouth and giggled, suddenly acting her age. Once again he wondered how she could do that, one minute the twenty-year-old femme fatale, the next his thirteen-year-old little girl? She licked her thumb and ran it over the pattern, smearing it across her leg. “Daddy won’t let me get the real thing—yet.”
“Ever,” he said, emphasizing the point. So far she hadn’t defied him on that, but she still threatened to pierce something—a nose, an eyebrow, her navel. Roger shuddered. What got into kids these days? How could he survive the next few years without a clue?
“You coming Samantha? You, too, Em. They’re about to open presents.”
“You go along, Dad. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Roger hesitated. He wasn’t too sure he should leave Samantha alone with Em. She had been everything he didn’t want his daughter to become. Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m losing it. What possible damage can she do in a few short minutes?
“Okay. But don’t wait too long. You won’t want to miss all the fun.”
Em breathed a sigh of relief when he left, although she wasn’t too pleased to be stranded with his daughter. His daughter! Samantha couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen if Em’s math was correct. And here Em thought she was bumming cigarettes from someone who could legally smoke them.
“Fun.” The word came out like a curse. “As if a bunch of little boys tearing wrapping paper is a treat.”
“I suppose you want your pack back, but frankly, I wouldn’t feel right returning it to you,” Em said as she pushed her strap back over her shoulder. A refreshing breeze began to stir the bougainvillea, and Em moved out of reach of the thorny branches. “You’re not legally allowed to smoke.”
“That’s okay. You keep it. You need it more than me.”
“I’ve quit, remember?”
“Yeah. Right.” Samantha looked down at her feet and whispered, “Thanks.”
“For what?”
She looked up and Em noticed the prettiest brown eyes—Roger’s eyes. “For not telling my dad the cigarettes were mine. He’s got this big thing about smoking because my mom died of cancer.”
“As I recall, you told him they were yours.”
“Like he listens. He only hears what he wants to hear, even if nobody says it. As if my mother’s cancer had anything to do with smoking. She had breast cancer, not lung cancer or anything like that.”
“Still, it’s not good for us. He’s right about that.”
“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not smoking anymore.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to get so hooked I can’t stop when I’m old.” Samantha paused and a stricken look crossed her face. “Not that you’re that old.”
She might not rival Methuselah, but Em suddenly felt very old, very old indeed.
CHAPTER THREE
“DON’T CALL ME Sammy. It’s a girl’s name.”
Em didn’t give in to the urge to laugh, because her son looked so serious as they rode home from the party. “Why do you say that?”
“Chaz says it’s his sister’s name.” He had talked nonstop about the twins he’d met. They would be attending the same school as her son, even though they were first graders, a grade behind Sammy.
“Oh, his sister must be Samantha. I met her today.”
That meeting came back in all its clarity. Her embarrassment at learning the girl was Roger’s daughter had sent her into a choking fit similar to her son’s asthma attacks. She’d actually felt sorry for Roger. He showed such love and concern for his children, and hadn’t had the slightest clue what that little vixen had been up to. Nonetheless, Em admired her spunk, even if it did mean Roger had a rough ride ahead of him.
“Well, I got other names.”
That he did: Bradley Samuel Turner, Jr. Her husband, Bradley, had chosen to use the baby’s middle name because he never knew if she was talking to him or the baby when she said Brad. She had grown to like the name Sammy. It provided less of a reminder of her husband after he left.
“What do you want to be called? Brad or Bradley?”
“I want a nickname like Chaz or Chip. That’s neat.”
Remembering her alphabet discussion with Samantha, she tried another approach. “How do you spell junior?”
Sammy thought for a moment. “J.R.”
“How’s that for a nickname?”
He concentrated, chin on fist, then turned to her with a beaming smile. “I’m J.R. Wait till I tell Chaz.”
Which would be sometime tomorrow. Sammy had pleaded to have them come over to the pool at their apartment on Sunday. She had agreed. Since Roger planned to drop the boys off, she wouldn’t have to deal with him for any length of time. Now that she had seen him in the present, long-ago images of him had begun to dim, replaced by intriguing new ones. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
* * *
“’LO, GRANDMA,” SAMMY said as he dashed into his grandmother’s apartment. Doris Masters moved out of his way and extended a cordless phone toward Em.
“Who’s calling?”
Doris glanced at Sammy’s retreating back before saying, “Bradley.” As Em grasped the phone, her mother added, “Collect.” Doris turned on her heel and followed her grandson.
Bradley? She had sent him her new address when she arrived in Phoenix so he’d have no excuse. His child support checks were already two months behind, and she could really use that money.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Em began, “Hi, Bradley. Would you like to speak to Sammy?”
She started to go after their son and stopped when Bradley said, “No. I need to speak to you. What’s with all these stamped, self-addressed envelopes?”
My way of making it easy for you, she thought, but controlled the urge to say the words. Hadn’t she always made it easy for him? Just like smoking, it was a hard habit to break.
“If it’s for child support, you can forget it.”
Em held on to the spaghetti strap of her dress, ready to flip it back onto her shoulder. “What are you talking about? You agreed....”
“I agreed to a lot of things, including you getting total custody and taking the kid to Arizona. You want to get into that can of worms?”
Em tensed. The strap broke loose at one end, and now lay like a limp string in her hand.
“Bradley, things here are tight. Jobs in Arizona don’t pay what they do in California. I’ve had to take temporary work....”
“You chose to leave the land of opportunity. Don’t try pushing that one on me.”
With a snap, Em freed the strap completely from the dress.
“Besides,” Bradley continued, “at least you have a job.”
“What are you talking about?” Em braced herself against the wall.
“I’ve been laid off, Emmy Lou. No job, no money, no medical insurance. You know what that’s like, right?”
Slowly, Em slipped to the floor, her skirt making a swirl of flowers around her on the worn rug. She almost mentioned COBRA, the program that allowed people who lost their jobs to continue on their employer’s health insurance. Instead, she bit her lip, hard. If he had no money, he might suggest she contribute to the payments, and she wasn’t about to volunteer spending another dime on this lowlife. Saving him stopped once she got the divorce.
“Well, get another job, Bradley,” Em said, trying to restrain the frustration in her voice. How come every time she had to deal with her ex-husband, she felt as though she were free-falling through space? “With all that education...” She paused as a new thought struck home. “Unemployment insurance. You can send me money from that.”
“Missed it by two weeks.” Why wasn’t there some worry in his voice? Concern for himself, if not for their son? “So, what kind of work did you find? With all your computer skills, it should be a breeze....”
With a flick of her thumb, Em disconnected the phone.
“You okay?”
Em looked up. Her mother stood above her, leaning against the green-striped wallpaper, arms crossed over her chest.
“I take it from that scowl, and your ruined dress, the conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant.”
Before pushing herself off the floor, Em glanced down at the ripped bodice, destroyed when she’d pulled out the strap. “When is it ever?”
“Care for some fresh lemonade? One of my friends has a lemon tree, and she gave me enough lemons to last the rest of the summer.” A look of worry passed over Doris’s face as she reached to touch Em’s lip. “Is that blood?”
Em passed the back of her hand over her mouth. “Yeah. I bit myself.”
Doris turned and headed for the kitchen. “Take a seat at the table. I’ll make us iced tea without the lemon. I don’t think you’d like citrus juice on that wound right now.”
Maybe she would. Intense pain might block out the conversation she just had with her ex. Em clenched her hands and struck them on the small dining room table as she took a seat by the window. For the first time, she noticed the strap was still wrapped around her fingers. Slowly, she unwound the delicate fabric.
“I really liked this dress,” she said when her mother returned with the tea.
Doris placed two coasters on the wooden table before setting the tall glasses on top. “Take it off and put it in my room. I think I can fix it.”
“Did I ever tell you what a wonder you are?” Em lifted her glass in a silent toast before touching the rim to her lips. The moisture stung momentarily but not enough to keep her from taking a long swallow.
Em and her mother had always remained close, talking on the phone and visiting whenever possible. When Em lost her job this past spring, her mother had asked her and Sammy to live with her in Phoenix. With Doris retiring in June after thirty-five years of teaching second grade, it meant Em wouldn’t have to put out extra money for daycare.
Deciding to accept the offer had been easy. Nothing had gone too well for them in California. But they waited until Sammy finished first grade, even though it put a strain on their limited budget. Having come from an unstable family herself, Em tried to ensure her son’s life was secure wherever possible.
“He’s not sending any money,” Em said without preamble. “Lost his job and health insurance.” She chuckled, recalling her thoughts. “I almost volunteered to pay for COBRA insurance. Can you believe it? I can’t even afford it for myself, and here I’m about to volunteer to pay his.”
“You’ve always been too generous.”
“No more. I may end up biting my lip to shreds,” she said, pounding a fist on the table again, “but he’s never going to see another red cent from me.”
Doris pushed some strands of gray-blond hair back over her ear. “So, did he mention what college he’s going to?”
“College? What college?”
“Before you showed up, he said he was back in college, working toward some degree.”
“How can he pay for tuition, books...?”
“How did he pay for them before? He never held down a job, did he, before he walked out on you?”
Em sat back and stared at the ceiling. Some loose paint looked as if it might fall, but their landlord wasn’t due to paint the place for several more months. “No, Ma, he didn’t. Not while we were married, anyway. He always planned to once he finished college.” Em thought a minute. “You don’t suppose there’s someone out there....”
“As much in love with him as you were?”
Em sucked on her lip a moment, wondering if it might be swelling. “No, I was going to say as gullible as me.” Her lip must be swelling. The word barely made it out of her mouth. Or maybe she found it way too painful to admit that anyone could be conned into supporting a man while he attended one college after another and offered nothing in return.
“Why don’t you contact your lawyer? Maybe he can do something.”
“He’s already bled me dry, and Bradley only has the assets I paid for.” The car, stereo set and all the other items he’d charged to her credit cards. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled out the fancy elastic holding her ponytail.
For a fleeting second, Em recalled what Jodie had said about her husband. But Em couldn’t afford to pay Harve, and she didn’t want to accept his charity. Besides, Bradley could still threaten her with repealing the custody agreement. She didn’t want to give him any reason to come after the one thing he knew she treasured.
“I’m accepting that job.”
“Where you’re a temp? I thought you said they didn’t pay enough.”
“The pay is doable. I’ll get benefits immediately, and Sammy’s start in six months. I haven’t found anything better, and Metro stopped hiring.”
For several moments they sipped their tea in quiet companionship. Em played with the torn strap on the table, making a coil first one way and then the other.
Finally, Doris said, “How was the party?” She placed the glass in front of her face, but it didn’t hide the grin. “Was Roger there?”
Em nodded and pushed the fabric to the side.
“Did he finally wake up and realize how the two of you were meant for each other?”
Em tossed the cork coaster at her mother. “That was a long time ago.”
“So, your fatal attraction has worn off?”
