His Surprise Son (12 page)

Oh, fudgeknuckles.
She couldn’t invite Nate in—there were photos of Eli everywhere. Three houses away from her own place, Izzy slowed down, trying to remember if any of her son’s things—bike helmet, basketball, mud-caked size-nine hiking boots—were on the front porch.

Well, it would be a conversation starter, she reasoned, but, oh, my goodness, her head and heart were pounding in unison.

At the border of her yard, which Eli had mowed and edged before he’d left for camp, she saw that the porch was clear of everything except two deck chairs, a single low table and an umbrella stand.

“This is me.” She gestured to the house, abruptly aware of how proud she was of her little place.

Her cottage might be tiny by most standards, but it was a cheerful butter yellow. The creamy white trim had been repainted just last summer, and oversize wood-and-chrome wind chimes flanked a huge hanging basket of bright pink fuchsias.
Happy people live here.
That was what the front of her house said.

Briefly, Izzy closed her eyes.
Please let happy people continue to live here.

Nate studied the building, his gaze roving up, down, left and right. She wondered if he was looking at it as an architect. If so, he could no doubt catalog a host of changes he would make. Izzy’s stomach dropped as once again she realized Nate would be able to give Eli so many more of the things that mattered to a teenage boy, including, she was sure, swanky digs and his own state-of-the-art gadget-filled bedroom.

She was just about to picture the moment that Eli was going to tell her he wanted to move to Chicago when Nate commented, “Great place. It suits you.”

“I bought it myself,” she said, allowing pride to infuse her voice. “Well, not entirely. Henry and Sam helped with the down payment, but I finished paying them back last year.”

Surprise and respect infused his expression. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”

Pleasure began to fill her until she remembered that it had taken the entire past decade to repay the ten thousand dollars. She shook her head, appreciative but realistic. “You’re being nice. You know darn well the down payment for this house is probably what you spend on a summer vacation. Come on, let’s sit on the porch.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her back until he was looking directly in her eyes. “Buying your own home—any home—is a tremendous achievement. And your house is lovely.” Her hand was still clasped in his, the pressure of his fingers firm and steady and warm. “You should be proud as hell of what you’ve accomplished.”

Without waiting for a response, he headed for the porch, releasing her only as they took their seats. Escaping the direct sunshine was a relief as it was still blisteringly hot with no breeze, and Izzy knew she ought to offer Nate a drink.

I wonder if he’d mind sipping from the garden hose.

“Have you made good memories here?”

She cleared her throat. “I have, yes. Very good.” She drew a shallow breath. Should she tell him now?

A butterfly flitted around the flowers she’d planted in front of the porch railing. Izzy was strongly tempted to pretend it was a normal afternoon. If they’d never broken up...

I’d take his hand again.

And tell him how nervous I feel about Eli going to college in a few years with a hearing loss.

He’d tell me not to worry, that our son can handle it and we’ll both be there to help him when he needs it. He’d say we can get through anything as long as we’re together.

And I would believe him.

Izzy chewed her bottom lip. Dandy. Just dandy. Apparently, it didn’t matter how smart she got or how strictly the school of life educated her, she was always going to be that girl who wanted a hero to come along—even though she was a single mother, and it was far, far too late for fairy tales.

“I’d like to go to the concert with you tonight.”

There was a “but” in Nate’s voice that made Izzy’s head swivel in his direction.

“First, you should know why I want to go.”

Sounded ominous.
“Because you like outdoor concerts?” she tried, hoping to keep the mood light for a while longer, at least.

Humor tugged at his lips. Briefly. Then he looked serious again. “I like you. I’d like to get to know you again.”

She tried to swallow. A heart couldn’t literally jump into a person’s throat, could it?

“How about if we start fresh, pretend we just met?” he asked. His voice dropped to a hum as soothing as the rustle of the breeze through the maple leaves. “Do you think we could do that tonight?”

Mesmerized, feeling reality begin to fade away, she nodded.

No, don’t nod. You can’t pretend that.

But he had her at “I like you.”

Her conscience protested.
Tell him. He needs to know. Get it over with. Tell him now.

“Nate,” she began, “maybe it would be best if...”

He wagged his head, touching two fingers lightly to her lips. “Think less.” It was a request. A favor. “This one time.”

No. Way.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, let’s just go to the concert.”

Augggghhh!

He reached out, grasping the arms of the wicker chair in which she was seated. With little effort, he scooted it toward him, turning his own chair at the same time until they were close enough for Nate to reach behind her with his free hand and cup the back of her head. She could see tiny flecks of brown in the sea of his blue irises and the infinitesimal scar high on his right cheek from the case of chicken pox he’d had when he was five.

“On second thought, you really should know my intentions before we set the plans for tonight in stone.” His voice was so soft.

Her heart beat so hard she could barely draw the breath to speak. “What are your intentions?”

She saw him moving ever closer to her lips but didn’t think he was actually going to kiss her, or she’d have moved. Of course.

Or...not.

Oh. My. Goodness.
How could she have forgotten this, as if her bones were melting like butter? The touch of his lips, the scent of his skin...

It was a homecoming.

Tenderly, his lips settled on hers, soft as down. She raised her hands to touch his neck, first just with her fingertips, but as the kiss deepened, her hands delved into his hair, and she was kissing him back with yearning and passion and a hunger she couldn’t satisfy on a neighborhood porch.

It will never be enough.
Oh, this was an exquisite, magnificent mistake.

Nate had his hands around her waist and was pulling her toward him so that she sat on the edge of her chair, their knees tangling. His kiss grew more insistent before he drew away, lowering his chin until their foreheads touched.

He swallowed. “So, do you want to?”

Izzy licked her lips. Her eyes remained closed. “Do I want to...?”

“Set our date in stone?”

Date. They shouldn’t call it a date—

Shut up.

“Stone is good.”

Chapter Twelve

I
f Izzy worried about awkward silences on the hour-long ride to Portland, she needn’t have. Nate kept the mood light with anecdotes about his recent attempts to join a recreational football league.

“Some of the guys were straight out of college or still in, but they had injuries and couldn’t play competitively anymore.”

With one hand on the steering wheel and his right resting on the stick shift, he was the picture of relaxation. He’d insisted on driving and had picked her up in a rental car that cost several times the price of her very well-used four-wheel-drive wagon, which was practical as all get-out but did nothing to enhance her sex appeal. Nate, on the other hand, looked like an ad for
Motor Trend
Sports Car of the Year.

“So, I figured I could play ball with these guys, flash some moves, but the very first scrimmage, I fall and realize I’ve messed up my wrist. I am the oldest guy there, and no way am I going to admit that I sprained my wrist and don’t want to play anymore.”

“What did you do?”

“Acted like a macho jerk until the pain was so bad, I started to cry.”

“You cried?”

“In front of several very large football players who probably dislocated their shoulders on a regular basis and never noticed it. They thought I was a wuss.”

His grin practically tugged her to him. Izzy wanted to smooth her fingers over his forehead. Instead, she kept her hands on her denim capris. “You’re not a wuss.”

Nate laughed. “You’re too kind.”

“What happened next?”

“I limped to my car, got an X-ray and a very tall beer and went back to the gym from then on instead of to the football field.”

“You quit your team?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Did they try to talk you out of it?”

“Oh, no.”

A fizzy warmth tickled her chest. Seeing the vulnerable, imperfect side of Nate was a new experience. In high school, his success at sports, at academics and in the social realm had seemed effortless.

Izzy hadn’t told anyone that Nate had kissed her today. Hadn’t stopped thinking about it, either.

When she lapsed into a fantasy that included her, Nate and Eli together, she would forcefully wipe it from her mind. She was getting so good, she could complete the “wonder, drop it, wonder some more” cycle in about three minutes, then start up again with barely a break.

Instead of taking Highway 26 to their destination, Nate asked Izzy if she would mind his taking Burnside through downtown and up to Washington Park, where the Oregon Zoo sat like a hilltop village. Along the way, he asked her about all the places that had been remodeled or built during his absence, and she understood that he was viewing downtown Portland with the eye of a commercial architect. At eighteen, when they’d ventured into the city, he had dreamed aloud of someday constructing skyscrapers.

“You made it come true,” she said, letting the awe truly sink in. She’d spent so much time resenting him she hadn’t really considered his achievements. “You build skyscrapers.”

“Yes, I do.”

His tone was hard to read, so she probed, “You must feel crazy proud when you drive by one of your buildings.”

His fingers curled around the wheel. “I thought I would.” A muscle worked in his jaw before he spoke again. “In school, I wanted to focus on sustainable design for large commercial projects. But when my parents moved to Chicago after my father’s heart attack, it hit home that they were getting older and needed more help, so I started taking jobs. Anything I could get in a field related to architecture. One of the companies I worked for hired me right out of school, and I never looked back.” He shook his head. “I never looked around, either.”

“That seems reasonable. Under the circumstances.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Dreams and circumstance make interesting dance partners. I haven’t found the rhythm.”

Izzy stared at him, stunned. “Are you saying you’re not happy with your career?”

They were just passing Powell’s City of Books, and he glanced at the multilevel store as he answered. “I have no right not to be happy. I’ve had plenty of opportunities that others haven’t.” He gave her a sidelong look from behind his Ray-Bans. “I do realize that. But if I’m being a hundred percent honest, I feel disappointed a lot of the time.” His lips twisted. “Don’t say it.”

“What?”

“‘You’re a spoiled brat, Thayer.’”

Was she thinking that? She certainly
had
thought it, once upon a time. “I’ve never called you ‘Thayer.’”

He laughed, appreciating the irony. Then he remembered. “Yeah, you did call me ‘Thayer’ once. Remember the day we had a picnic at Trillium Lake, and you bet me the last five potato chips that you could spell more nine-letter words beginning with
S
than I could?”

She frowned. “Vaguely.”

“And, because I knew how much you loved barbecue potato chips, I magnanimously allowed you to win, after which you said, ‘Hand me the bag, Thayer.’”

“You remember that?”

“I remember because you didn’t even want to share.”

“Well, you eat more potato chips than I do. And you did not magnanimously let me win.”

“Did, too.”

“You did not.”

“I thought you said you only vaguely remember this.”

“It’s coming back to me. I won with
salacious
. I earned those chips.”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know. Unless you want a rematch. You still love barbecue chips?”

“As long as they’re ripple.”

“Thought so. I brought a bag.”

Just as with the cookies, she was absurdly touched that he remembered little details about her.

“And gummy worms mixed with popcorn.” Grimacing, he shook his head. “Do you still eat that?”

“Only when I go to the movies. Or watch one at home. Or think about watching a movie either in the theater or at home.”

“Even though I worry about the sanity of anyone who would eat that—”

Our son loves it.

“—I brought you some nonetheless. So, rematch while we wait for the concert to start?”

“Okay.”

As they left the city proper and headed into the wooded majesty of Washington Park, she recalled the other times they’d made this drive, in his battered pickup. The last time had been the evening she’d told him she was pregnant. “Why does your life disappoint you?” she asked. “What are you disappointed in, exactly?”

Navigating the turns in the road up to the zoo, Nate seemed to think carefully about his reply. “Some of it is obvious, I suppose. I want to design commercial buildings that are environmentally sound. And I want their exterior design to be harmonious with the surroundings rather than overpowering. But I have a secure job, and I have financial responsibilities, even though I’m not always on the same page as the people who commission building plans.” He flicked his gaze at her. “That sounds like a cop-out, even to me.”

She offered a small smile. “Not necessarily. I know about making choices based on responsibilities. Is there anything besides career that disappoints you?”

He hesitated only a moment. “When you get up each morning, do you have a sense of purpose, Izzy?”

Whoa.
“Yes.”
I have your son.
“I feel responsible to Henry and Sam, all the employees at The Pickle Jar. I suppose the fact that the restaurant is always struggling gives me a sense of purpose.” She wrinkled her nose. “I never thought about that before. It’s kind of a paradox, isn’t it? Maybe if we were a great success, I wouldn’t feel so driven. Do you think that’s your problem? You’re too successful?”

Nate didn’t smile. “Maybe.”

He turned the car into the entrance of Washington Park, where dense foliage in a dozen shades of green gave it a magical, almost otherworldly feel, protected and safe from the slings and arrows of the city below. That was how she had felt with Nate. “I loved that summer with you,” she said quietly. “It didn’t seem to have anything to do with the rest of my life. I guess that’s what you’ve been saying, too. So maybe that’s what we were?” She shrugged, still trying to figure it out after all these years. “Each other’s escape?”

He frowned mightily. “Maybe.” The word sounded heavy, reluctant.

“The problem was that real life intruded, and the bubble burst.”

On their right was a small parking lot in front of a clearing used for archery practice. Nate pulled the car into a space, unclicked his seat belt and turned to her. “You think it’s that straightforward?”

She nodded. “Yes. We were kids. What did we know?” She tried to laugh. “What do kids ever know about romance? We barely know ourselves at that age.”

“Maybe we knew more then than we do now,” he suggested, leaning forward.

Just like this afternoon, his eyes and the expression in them mesmerized her, but she was determined to keep her wits about her. She shook her head. “It’s a fact that the human mind isn’t fully formed until a person reaches his twenties, you know. There’s a lot of research on this. Until then, people don’t have the, um...”

Was he moving closer?

“...the capacity to, uh...the capability to think clearly and be logical and...”

He
was
moving closer.

“...not impulsive, so they shouldn’t be having relationships.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “Yes, it is. What’s simple is abstention. We should abstain from relationships. Focus on school.”

“Tall order.” His voice dropped to that low hum that made her stomach buzz. “What if you meet the right person early in your life?”

“Well, then you...wait. You wait.”

Nate reached for her, his warm, warm hand on the back of her neck, making every hair on her nape tingle and stand on end. For years, she’d been using her mind to override her emotions. She knew how to take control of her body and, except when it came to Eli, of her heart, as well. But now Nate kissed her, and it left her brain spinning.

She kissed him back. Her palms rested on his chest. When she found the strong thud of his heartbeat, her body trembled, years of yearning pushing against the dam she’d built to hold back her desire. It was easy not to respond to other men. Not so with Nate.

Just a little more
, her body begged.
We’ll stop in a second. Honest.

It took several seconds, however, and Nate was the one who pulled back. Not, she noticed, without effort.

“It is not,” he repeated his earlier words, “that simple.”

This time, she agreed.

* * *

If viewed aerially, the concert lawn at the Oregon Zoo would doubtlessly resemble an undulating sea of people, all milling about as they searched for seats, got in line for shave ice or ordered bento boxes, or bratwurst and beer from one of the tents set up around the venue. Nate held Izzy’s hand as they wove through the bodies preparing to listen to Chicago perform their greatest hits. The atmosphere was as festive as a Fourth of July, but no matter how many other people were present, Izzy’s attention remained solely on Nate. Or, more specifically, on his hand. Because just holding hands with him was more exciting than anything she’d experienced in years, and she was kind of curious about the delicious sensation, since a hand was a hand was a hand.

Except that Nate’s hand—the feel of his palm and his fingers—made her feel 100 percent safe and warm and loved. And for once, she wasn’t even worried about that.

I should be completely freaked out.

But she understood that this perfect sensation was temporary. Maybe that was what made the feeling okay. This time, she wasn’t going to be surprised when it ended.

Just a little bit longer, and then I’ll find the right moment to tell him about Eli, and after that...

Disappointment, sharp and sudden, tugged her heart down like an anchor. Once she told Nate about Eli, they would have to stop thinking about themselves, pull up their big-parent panties and pour all their energies into learning how to co-parent a teenage son.

Co-parent.
Such a grown-up, modern word.

Tiny needles of dread pricked her skin from the inside out.

“You okay?” Nate turned his head in question as they cut through a line of people at one of the beer tents.

Sick to her stomach, she nodded.
What if he wants Eli to move to Chicago? What if Eli wants to go? What if his mother still doesn’t accept Eli, or if she can’t accept his hearing loss? What if Eli feels terrible about himself after meeting his father? What if he feels terrible about me? What if—

“You’re cutting my circulation off, Izzy.” When they reached a bit of a clearing, he faced her, holding up their hands. “My fingers are blue. What’s up?”

“Fear of crowds.”

“Really? Is that something new?”

“I guess.” He surveyed the scene around them. “Did you see the sold-out sign when we came in? There are probably more people here than usual. Do you want to leave? Walk around the park instead?”

“No.” The music would start soon, and it would be too difficult to talk, and that would buy her time to calm down.

Coward
, her conscience chided.

Bite me.

“Would you like to get something to eat?” They’d been forced to leave their snacks in the car when they’d realized no outside food or drinks were allowed during the concert. “Or some wine before we sit down?”

Izzy’s stomach recoiled at the thought of food, and while a small wine buzz sounded tempting, she knew better than to dull her wits when she needed them more than ever. Frantic for something to do, however, she blurted, “Shave ice. I’d love a shave ice.”

Nate led her to the long line in front of the tent where multihued ridges of ice were served with fat straws to sip sweet, frosty liquid that came in myriad flavor combinations. She and Nate stood side by side, their hands still clasped. There was no chance they were going to lose each other standing in line, and Izzy grew self-conscious. Should she let go first? Their hands were just hanging there, together, as if they were dating.

“Bet I know what you’re going to order.” He grinned.