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As soon as he saw the boy get out of Wade’s truck with the sun shining down on his blond hair like some kind of spotlight, Steve froze. He knew instantly who the kid must be, so what the hell was Wade thinking to bring him here? Didn’t Steve have enough to deal with?
Wade rested one hand on the boy’s shoulder as they approached and gestured with the folder in his other hand at a red-tailed hawk making lazy circles overhead as it hunted for field mice in the tall grass.
As the boy made some comment, Steve studied him reluctantly. Lily’s child. Except for the hair, sun-streaked like Steve’s own, he looked like any other kid. He was a boy-man with gangly limbs and a self-conscious gait, stumbling awkwardly over a tuft of grass. His grin was destined to send pre-adolescent girls into fits of giggles. He was still too far away for Steve to be able to tell his eye color, but the resemblance to his mother was unmistakable.
Steve’s chest ached as he watched the living reminder of his old fantasy, raising a family with Lily. From what he’d heard, she hadn’t succeeded in finding the stardom she’d craved. Instead, she had ended up working as some kind of bookkeeper. Not very glamorous for someone with her talent and her dreams.
Not for the first time, he wondered just how she had managed, alone and pregnant at eighteen in such a tough town, no city for angels who were sweet and naive as she. Her beauty had been dazzling even then, so had she found an angel of her own to watch over her? To share her bed and pave her way?
The image of her as arm candy for some old fart made Steve’s stomach pitch. Deliberately he blocked out the silent questions. She had made her choice—and forced it on him, as well. Except for the boy who gazed up at him now, the whole sad story was ancient history.
“Hey, amigo,” Carlos called down to Wade from his perch on the roof truss.
“Howdy, slackers.” Wade’s reply included George in his greeting. “Brought you some papers,” he told Steve, holding out the folder.
“Oh?” Steve had no idea what it was about, unless it had something to do with Wade’s wedding. Surely Steve wouldn’t be expected to help with any decisions. He knew nothing about flowers or hymns. Reluctantly he stepped down to the ground and took the folder.
“This is my buddy, Jordan,” Wade added in a breezy tone. “Lily’s boy,” he tacked on unnecessarily, if Steve was too dumb to see the resemblance—especially when he looked into eyes of the same blue that he saw in the mirror each morning.
Jordan’s face turned pink. “Pleased to meet you,” he mumbled, sticking out his hand despite his obvious embarrassment.
Steve pulled off his work glove and did the same. “Uh, you, too.” He felt as awkward as a hooker in church as Jordan stuck his hands into the pockets of his baggy shorts and looked around.
“We’re on our way to shoot some hoops,” Wade drawled, breaking the silence. “Jordan wanted to see what a half-finished house looks like.”
“Is that so?” Steve’s doubt must have been evident, because Jordan’s gaze darted from him to Wade.
Hell, none of this was the boy’s fault. The least Steve could do was be civil.
“Well, come on, then,” he said, ignoring Wade and the churning in his own gut. “I might as well give you the ten-cent tour. Ever use a nail gun?”
When Lily heard the familiar rumble of Wade’s truck coming down the driveway alongside the big old house that she and Pauline had inherited from their parents, she slid a casserole dish into the oven and set the timer.
After “the guys” had left earlier, she had tried to search the Internet for office space to lease, but she had been unable to concentrate. Finally, she had given up in self-disgust. Cooking normally relaxed her, but not today. The entire time she’d been chopping onions, browning ground beef and boiling egg noodles, her thoughts had bounced back and forth between Pauline’s recipe and her own brief glimpse of her first love.
Seeing Steve drive by had opened a floodgate of questions—uppermost being, what kind of man had he become and did he carry a grudge against her for the way she had left him?
When Jordan came into the kitchen moments later with Wade on his heels, she was in the act of transferring cooled brownies from a baking pan into a plastic container.
“Oh, wow!” Jordan exclaimed, reaching for one without bothering with a greeting. “My favorite.”
Lily snatched them out of his reach. “You can say hello first, and then go wash your hands,” she scolded.
Wade inhaled deeply. “But, Ma, we’re starving.”
“No exceptions,” she said with a firm stare.
“Might as well do it,” Jordan muttered, crossing to the sink. “She never gives in.”
Lily set two of the fragrant brownies on paper napkins as they took turns with the kitchen towel. “Just one each so you don’t spoil your appetites for dinner.”
Lily and Jordan had been staying here with Pauline, but on the first of the month they’d be moving into a small furnished house that Lily had sublet. Even though this grand old Victorian had more than enough room for all of them plus Pauline’s boarder, Lily felt as though she and Jordan were imposing on the engaged couple’s privacy. Besides, Lily wanted to be settled into a place of their own before school began in the fall and she opened her accounting office.
“Mom, guess where we went?” Jordan asked around a mouthful of brownie.
She glanced from him to Wade, who suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I thought you were going to shoot baskets at the park.”
“We did,” Wade replied, concentrating on his snack.
“I saw two houses being built right near the beach,” Jordan continued. “Maybe we can buy one of them when it’s done instead of renting that other little house.”
“Oh?” Realization dawned on Lily, as clear and cold as a winter sunrise. She stared hard at Wade.
“I doubt we’ll be able to afford a house on the water,” she muttered, a ball of anger and disbelief forming in her chest.
She wanted to yell at Wade, to demand to know what the hell gave him the right to make decisions for her son. To reach over and shake him by his broad shoulders until his shiny white teeth snapped together.
“How did you happen to go there?” she asked, keeping her voice calm with an effort that singed her throat.
Wade stared at the knife in her hand, the one she’d used to cut the brownies. “Jordan was curious,” he said. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
“Ah.” Carefully Lily laid down the knife. “Jordan, since you’re through eating, why don’t you go up and change before dinner?” she suggested. “Maybe you should take a shower, too.”
“Are you going to yell at Wade?” he asked.
“No,” she replied truthfully, “I’m not going to yell at him.” Maybe rip out his tongue with her bare hands or beat him silly with the wooden spoon she had used earlier.
Jordan hesitated. “Steve showed me how he and his crew were framing each room,” he said defiantly, “and he told me I could come back again to see how it’s going.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “As long as it’s okay with you.”
Lily felt like a pot that might boil over at any second. “You and I will talk later,” she told him firmly. “For now, please go ahead and do what I asked.”
He ducked his head and left the room. “I liked him,” he grumbled as he went through the dining room on his way to the foyer.
“What were you thinking?” Lily demanded of Wade through clenched teeth as soon as she heard her son’s tread on the stairs. “You had no right to take him out there without discussing it with me first!”
Wade wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Good brownie,” he murmured. “The kid’s not deaf,” he went on when she didn’t respond. “He’s heard all the speculation about Steve, so he was curious, that’s all.”
“And Jordan told you that?” she demanded, hurt that her own son would choose to confide in Wade instead of her.
A muscle jumped in Wade’s cheek. “Well, not exactly, but I knew it had to bother him.”
Wade’s expression was defensive as he leaned his hip against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “It was just a casual meeting, not a parent-child reunion,” he added. “Nobody’s making any big deal out of it except you.”
When Lily continued to glare, he straightened again and threw his hands into the air in a gesture of defeat. “Look, if I overstepped, I’m sorry, okay?”
As an apology, it wasn’t much, but she knew he genuinely cared about Jordan. Biting her lip, she stared out the kitchen window at the hollyhocks blooming along the fence in her sister’s carefully tended backyard.
“I know you thought you were doing the right thing,” she said softly, “and I appreciate that, but you don’t understand the situation. It’s complicated.”
Wade rubbed a hand over his short black hair, his frustration obvious. The last thing she wanted was to alienate him, but neither could she allow her son to be hurt.
“No more visits to Steve without my permission,” she added firmly. “Agreed?”
Wade started to argue, but then he must have thought better of it. “Okay,” he replied with a solemn expression. “Still friends?”
Lily felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Of course.”
After Wade went upstairs, she threw together a green salad to go with the casserole. When he came back downstairs and left to pick Pauline up from work, she went in search of Jordan.
Pauline’s elderly boarder, Dolly Langley, would be back from her cruise this evening, so Lily intended to take advantage of the temporary privacy.
She found Jordan curled up on the living-room couch with a library book, his hair still wet from his shower. He looked up when she sat down across from him.
“So you had a good day?” she asked hesitantly, wondering just how much to tell him.
He nodded, closing the library book, and looked at her with a wary expression. “Yeah.”
“Want to tell me about it?” She felt as though she were walking through a mine field.
“I met Steve,” he said, with an edge of defiance in his tone. “He showed me both the houses that he’s building.”
Steve must have been stunned when Wade presented Jordan to him. The conversation she owed him was one that she dreaded with a deep ache of regret. If she could only go back, but then she wouldn’t have Jordan.
“Did Steve know about me?” he asked in a small voice. “I mean, before we came.”
“No,” she said truthfully. “I swear to you that he had no idea. Not even an inkling.”
The tension drained out of his thin shoulders, making her realize he’d probably come to the conclusion that his father had ignored his existence for the past dozen years.
“Can I go see him again if he asks?” His expression was a mixture of longing and curiosity that nearly broke Lily’s heart. At a total loss for words, she relied on the stock reply of parents everywhere for questions that had no answer.
“We’ll see,” she said, knowing she couldn’t stall her son forever—and figuring it was one request that Steve would most likely never make. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Three
When Steve’s doorbell rang on Saturday afternoon, the last person he expected to see standing on his front porch was Lily’s son.
“Jordan!” Steve opened the door wider as his two dogs stood eagerly behind him. “What are you doing here?” Steve’s house was a couple of miles outside of town on a narrow country road with very little traffic.
Jordan shifted from one foot to the other, obviously nervous. “I used my birthday money for a ride.” He ducked his head, shoulders hunched.
Behind him Steve saw the local taxi leaving his driveway. At least the kid hadn’t hitched his way out here.
“I probably shouldn’t have come,” Jordan mumbled, cheeks flushed, “but I need to talk to you about something.”
Steve had a pretty good idea what he meant. “Since you’re here, you might as well come on in.” Realizing how unfriendly he must sound, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh, want something to eat? I was just about to make a couple of sandwiches.”
The boy’s face brightened immediately. “Yeah, that would be great.” As soon as he crossed the threshold, the dogs approached him with their tails wagging.
Cautiously Jordan extended his hand. “What are their names?”
“The bigger one is Seahawk and that’s Sonic,” Steve said after he had shut the carved wood door.
“Are they watchdogs?” Jordan asked as they sniffed his fingers.
The idea of either of them going after a burglar made Steve smile. “Nah, they’re golden retrievers. They love everybody.”
He led the way past the living room with its massive rock fireplace and vaulted ceiling, down the hall through the family room where he’d been watching TV, and into the gourmet kitchen.
“Wow,” Jordan exclaimed, head swiveling. “This place is way cool. Did you build it, too?”
“Yeah,” Steve replied, pleased by the compliment. “I designed it and did most of the work.”
After Jordan had wrapped his gangly legs around a bar stool at the granite center island and the dogs thumped down on the floor, Steve began pulling sandwich fixings from the stainless-steel double-door refrigerator.
“Does your mom know where you are?” he asked casually. Was she the kind of single parent who let her kid run wild while she was busy doing her own thing? He couldn’t imagine her giving permission for him to come here.
Steve knew nothing about her, so he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
“Not really,” Jordan replied.
Steve held up a container of mustard with a questioning glance. When Jordan nodded, he squirted it onto the bread. “Won’t she be worried?” He doled out slices of ham and cheese as though he were dealing cards at a blackjack table, topped the stacks with lettuce and slapped on more bread.
Jordan looked longingly at the sandwiches, reminding Steve of the voraciousness of a growing boy’s appetite. “She’s looking at an office to rent and Dolly thinks that I walked over to the library,” he said. “Mom lets me walk there by myself.”
Steve put the sandwiches on plates and passed one over, impressed that Jordan didn’t immediately dig in. After Steve had set out two cans of soda and torn open a bag of chips, he sat down, too. Only then did the kid finally begin to eat.
Steve debated called Pauline’s house, then decided to hold off. It sounded as though Jordan had done a good job of covering his tracks. While they ate, Steve waited for him to start talking.
“Can I go out on the deck?” Jordan asked after he’d wolfed down the sandwich and taken a long swallow of soda.
“Sure,” Steve replied. “Don’t fall over the railing.”
The house sat on a low bluff above the water with wooden steps leading down to the beach. On a clear day, he could see all way to Whidbey Island.
Letting the dogs outside, he joined Jordan at the rail. The deck hugged the back and one end of the house, so that part of it was shaded in the afternoon and the rest remained in the sun.
“See those dark things in the water?” Steve asked, pointing. “They’re probably a pod of killer whales.”
Jordan stared with his face scrunched up as the breeze off the water ruffled his thick hair. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen pictures.”
“So, what’s on your mind?” Steve finally asked when the silence had lengthened between them.
Jordan looked up at him through eyes that stirred up long-buried memories of his mother. “One of the other kids told me that you’re my dad,” he said. “Is it true?”
Although he’d known the question was coming, Steve had no idea how to respond. “And what does your mom say?” he asked, stalling in case inspiration decided to visit him.
Jordan turned to stare out at the water. “All she’s ever said was that you—uh, he, couldn’t be with us. I figured she meant my dad was dead, like my friend’s father who was a marine. I didn’t want to make her feel sad, so I never asked anything more.”
