Marry Me Again (The Second Chance Love Series, Book 1) (7 page)

He'd forgotten every bit of that to have her.

Tucker shoved his hands back into his pockets and shook his head. He could still feel her soft cheek against his fingertips. And he knew that he shouldn't have touched her. He had no right. She didn't belong to him anymore, and she never would again.

* * *

Sammy woke early with a tummy ache.

This one was worse than the one from the night before. Even worse than the tummy ache he'd gotten the night Jimmy Horton slept over and they snuck downstairs in the middle of the night to eat the triple-decker chocolate cake his mother had made to take to some fancy party.

His mom had a cow about it. Jimmy just laughed, but Sammy felt bad and not just in his tummy. He didn't like to upset his mom.

She was upset now. Her tummy hurt yesterday, too. That's what happened when grown-ups got upset—their tummies hurt.

His dad was coming, and Sammy was worried.

Sammy pushed the covers back, didn't take time to make his bed or change his clothes. He could get away with that today.

In his PJs, he ran down the hall to his mom's room. Maybe she was still asleep. He hoped so. Then he could snuggle under the warm covers with her. She'd hold him close and tickle him, then kiss him while she laughed.

It was a game for babies, but Sammy didn't care, even if Jimmy Horton found out and teased him about it. Sometimes Sammy needed to be that close to his mom.

He'd never had a dad before, not that he could remember. Lots of kids didn't have one. It wasn't so bad.

"Mom?" He busted into her bedroom, but found the bed empty. Her bathroom was empty, too.

No snuggling under the covers. His tummy ache got a little worse.

Sammy ran down the stairs, calling out as he went. "Mom?"

She wasn't in the kitchen, either. He turned around, then saw her asleep on the couch.

"Mom?"

Worried, he shook her a little.

It took her a while to wake up. She started to smile at him, but yawned instead. She stretched her arms way up in the air, then held them out to him.

She gave him a big squeeze. He felt a little better.

"Whatcha doin' down here?"

"Sleeping." She kissed the top of his head, then tried to smooth down his hair. It always looked funny in the morning, with the ends sticking out every which way.

"How come?"

"Because I fell asleep down here and never made it to bed."

"Like me, sometimes?"

"Yes, just like you." She smiled real big, then kissed him on the nose. "We'd better get moving. I overslept, and it's getting late."

Sammy slid off the couch so she could get up, too. "Almost time?"

"Almost."

He looked at the door, then at the clock on the wall. He'd learned to tell time in kindergarten last spring. It was almost eight.

"Mom?" Sammy thought about all the questions he had and decided what he wanted to know most of all. "Do you think he's really coming?"

She quit straightening the cushions and knelt down in front of him. "Of course he's coming."

Sammy thought twice about asking anything else. Mom said talking about things made them better, usually. But it didn't get better when they talked about his dad. He didn't want to make his mom sad, but today, Sammy had to ask, anyway.

"But..." It was hard for him to even say it. "He never came before."

She fiddled with his hair some more, but it just wouldn't stay down the way it was supposed to. "He was here, but it was a long time ago."

"When I was a little baby?"

"Yes."

"And then he didn't come back anymore?"

"Yes."

Sammy wanted to know why. He was afraid he'd done something to make his dad mad. It must have been something really bad, but he couldn't remember.

Jimmy Horton said Sammy's dad must not love him, because he left and never came back. Jimmy's dad left, too, once, for a long time. But he came back.

If your dad really loved you, he'd come back, Jimmy said.

Jimmy was already seven, and he knew just about everything.

Sammy looked at his mom. He'd upset her again. Talking about his dad did that. Maybe he should talk to Jimmy about his dad, instead.

Yes, that's what he'd do. Jimmy never got upset when they talked about anything.

"I guess... I need to get ready."

His mom smiled a little, and Sammy knew he'd made the right decision. He headed up the stairs.

* * *

Rebecca waited until he was out of sight before sinking back down into the couch.

She'd been waiting for the next questions, waiting and dreading them.

Why didn't he come back, Mom?

Why doesn't he love me?

They'd danced all around these questions many times before, and even with all this time to prepare, Rebecca still hadn't figured out the right things to say.

A minute later, she forced herself to get up and go into the kitchen. She was going to cook. It would give her brain something to do besides worry about what the morning would bring, and give her stomach something to do besides turn on itself.

She opened the refrigerator to see what she had to work with, then checked the pantry.

She'd worried for so long—starting before Sammy was born, when she knew her marriage was in trouble—about what it might do to her child to be raised without a father.

But the reality hadn't been nearly as bad as she'd feared. She and Tucker and Sammy had never lived together, except for those awful few months right after Sammy was born. He didn't have happy memories of what it was like to be with both his parents, so he didn't feel the sense of loss that an older child would have felt when his father moved out.

Of course, when Sammy had gotten older, he'd realized that other kids had fathers, and he didn't, but it hadn't been a big deal. While it wasn't the way Rebecca would have preferred to have her son grow up, it was all right.

It wasn't as if Sammy were the only little boy who never saw his father. Their neighborhood bore out what the statistics said about fewer and fewer children living in traditional households. There were more single parents and step-families than families where a child lived with both his biological parents.

Sammy did just fine without his father for five and a half years. Then, six months ago, Sammy's friend's parents had gotten back together. Jimmy Horton was right up there with God as far as Sammy was concerned, and if Jimmy Horton's dad came back, Sammy's could, too.

Rebecca dug back into the cabinet for a skillet she rarely used. This was a good day for crepes. Sammy liked them, and he needed something to take his mind off everything, as well.

They'd had a rough six months. She'd listened to Sammy's nonstop questions about his father. She'd relived with him every moment he'd ever spent with his father. She'd pulled out the few pictures she had of them together and explained exactly what had happened when each one had been taken.

And then Sammy started planning his sixth birthday party. He wouldn't tell her what he wanted for a present.

"Ahhhhh, Mom," he'd said. "Everybody knows that you make your wish when you blow out your candles, and you can't tell anybody about it. 'Cause if you do, it won't come true."

Her suspicions had grown stronger as the day grew closer about exactly what his wish would be, but it was only after the smoke cleared that she knew.

Sammy blew out his candles with the saddest look she'd ever seen on his face. He'd watched the clock that night, refused to go to sleep, refused to tell her what was wrong, until the last seconds of his birthday had passed.

"He didn't come."

Sammy had sobbed and sobbed.

Rebecca had held him tight and hurt like she'd never hurt before. And she never wanted to hurt like that again, never wanted her child to hurt like that.

But here she was letting his father back into his life.

* * *

It was even harder than Tucker expected it would be to walk up to that door and ring the bell.

He couldn't call it hot, not yet, but he was sweating.

He was also fifteen minutes late.

Tucker had driven for miles throughout the night, first aimlessly wandering through Tallahassee, then heading south toward the Gulf Coast.

He drove until nearly dawn, wondering about all the things he'd missed, the precious times he'd thrown away, hoping it wasn't too late for him and his son. When he finally got back to his hotel, he was sure he wouldn't sleep. Damned if he hadn't done just that, just enough to make him have to rush to get here on time.

And then he had to circle the block three times before he felt like his legs were strong enough to hold him once he got out of the damned car and walked up to the door.

It was the thought of those eyes that turned his legs to mush. What would he find in his son's sad brown eyes?

He started to straighten the tie he normally wore around his neck, but he wasn't wearing one today. He punched the doorbell.

The sound of the two-toned chime was still echoing in the foyer when the door swung open with a fury. Rebecca gave him a glance lethal enough to cut him in two, then stepped aside to let him come in.

She wasn't in a generous mood this morning. She lit into him right away in a voice that was low and threatening.

"Don't you ever show up late again when he's expecting you."

Stunned, he remained silent.

Rebecca turned and walked into the kitchen, calling to the little boy as she went.

Tucker heard a flurry of whispers and footsteps across the carpeted floor, then found himself with the length of the living room separating him from his son.

It was a good thing he'd come the night before, a damned good thing, he decided. His emotions had gotten the better of him the night before. The sight of the boy had torn something loose inside him, some old wound that must have been festering for years, one he hadn't even known about.

That spot he'd thought was so empty, that black hole, wasn't empty at all. It was chock-full of a kind of hurt and anger and bewilderment that he couldn't begin to understand, even though he had only himself to blame for it.

How could a sane man do this to himself?

How could he fail to understand the magnitude of the gift that had been bestowed upon him? A son. His son. A bond that couldn't be broken, even through years of neglect.

The boy standing before him would always be his son.

Now, if only Sammy would give Tucker a chance to be his father.

Sammy stood there glued to his mother's side. If she'd been wearing a dress, the boy would have been hiding behind her skirts. As it was, Sammy had to make do with a pair of cream-colored slacks.

The boy wasn't that tall, yet he still seemed to be an awkward arrangement of mostly arms and legs. He had a slight build, a little slouch in his back, tons of sandy-blond hair and downcast eyes.

Tucker wasn't sure what he should do. Hell, he wasn't sure if he could make it across the fifteen feet that separated them.

They both stood there like actors forced out on a stage with no lines to say, Sammy huddled beside his mom and Tucker by the door.

Rebecca finally broke the stalemate when she walked into the room and urged Sammy to come along with her. The boy looked up, a long way up, for a quick glance at Tucker, one that didn't tell Tucker anything, then Sammy dropped his eyes to the floor again.

"Sammy—" Rebecca knelt in front of him and forced a brief smile "—this is your dad. Tucker, this is Sammy."

"Hi." Tucker was happy he managed to get the word out without having to clear his throat first.

Sammy, still huddled close to his mom, ventured another glance at Tucker. "Hi," Sammy muttered.

Tucker had just a moment to see those brown eyes, and he could see that they were glistening with tears.

"Is uhh..." He hesitated, not sure how six-year-old boys felt about crying and having anyone notice. "Is anything wrong?"

Sammy looked at his mom, back down to the floor, then at Tucker once again. He muttered something Tucker couldn't hear, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear once he saw the way Rebecca tensed up in an instant. She must have heard because Sammy was practically in her lap.

"What, Sammy?"

"Go ahead," Rebecca said. "Tell him."

Sammy sniffed once, then again. Clearly worried, he stared at his mom, and she nodded. Finally he looked up at Tucker. The boy looked so solemn, so hesitant, Tucker almost wished he hadn't asked.

"I thought... maybe you decided not to come," Sammy said finally.

Tucker took it like a fist to the gut.

He simply never expected that.

He wanted to protest, to tell Sammy that if his father said he'd be here, he'd be here, that the boy could trust his word. But why should Sammy trust him? The boy didn't even know him.

Tucker sank down to his knees in front of the boy. Finally he could look right into those eyes, big brown ones with long, thick eyelashes, now spiked together in the aftermath of his tears. Sammy would have beautiful eyes, if only they didn't look so sad.