The Comeback Girl (7 page)

The cop cleared his throat. “Just so you understand, this was my idea, not your mom’s. She said the final decision would be yours and Lucas’s. He’s with his mother at the moment, but I’ll talk to him as soon as I can. If you’re both against the idea, we’ll drop it.”

Zach’s impulse was to say, “Fine. Drop it.” But he didn’t. “Can I go to my room?”

His mother closed her eyes and nodded. She sank back on the couch. If the cop weren’t here, Zach might have hugged her, but he couldn’t look like a baby in front of the man his mother was planning to marry. Zach needed to think about this. Why couldn’t his mother be like other moms? Why couldn’t their lives be normal?

K
RIS BRACED
for a door slam, but it didn’t happen. She opened her eyes and found Donnie on one knee in front of her. His dark eyes were narrowed with concern.

“That went well, don’t you think?” she quipped.

His lips turned up slightly. “I think you’re very brave, and you handled that with style and grace.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I just told my son I was prepared to lie to the world in order to get a decent health care plan.”

The smile disappeared. “That’s not it at all. You offered to help, and I took it to the next level. You want to hang this on someone’s shoulders, put the blame where it belongs.”

She sat up straight. “Here’s the deal. I won’t say anything about the plan to anyone until we’ve worked out the details, but if we decide to do this, I won’t lie to my family. I’ve lied to them for nearly half my life. I won’t do it again. If you and I can talk our sons into supporting this decision, I will need to tell my sisters and Ida Jane the real reason we’re doing this.”

He nodded. “My mother has to know, too.”

Sooner or later the truth about their marriage would become common knowledge—this was Gold Creek, after all, but gossip wasn’t admissible in court. Was it?

Donnie reached out and took her hand. “I can see your brain churning. Let it go for now. If it doesn’t work out, there’s always plan B.”

“What’s that?”

He grinned. “I have no idea.”

Something tight loosened in her chest and she could smile again. Donnie had always had that effect on her.

He helped her to her feet. “I’d better go. You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

She followed him to the door. He was right. She
was
exhausted. But for some reason, she was loath to let him go.

He didn’t turn back, just strode purposefully to his vehicle. “Sweet dreams,” he called out.

Hah.
She’d be lucky to sleep. Period.

She locked the door, turned off the lights and slowly trudged toward her room. A crack of light visible beneath Zach’s door snapped off as she approached. The snub hurt, but she had never let her son go to bed without a kiss and she wasn’t about to start.

She opened the door and squinted into the gloom. A thumping—Sarge’s tail against the floor—was her only greeting. The hallway light helped her navigate to the bed. Her son was under his covers, his back to her.

Kris stopped to pet Sarge then leaned over and brushed back a lock of hair to kiss Zach’s cheek. He smelled of toothpaste, and soap.

“I love you, Zachie.” She whispered the nickname she’d called him when he was a toddler. He was supposed to answer, “I love you, too, Mama.”

He didn’t say a word.

Kristin’s eyes filled with tears. Maybe she was completely wrong to be considering Donnie’s proposal. Her only allegiance was to her son. Not to an old friend she’d once loved. Maybe she didn’t even know what love was—except when it came to her son. And if her actions were going to affect Zach’s feelings for her, perhaps she should rethink everything.

Zach moved suddenly, flipping to his back. “Do
you promise you’ll at least talk to my father before you do this…thing?”

Kristin nodded. She’d been waiting for Tyler to approach her, but now she was going to have to make the first move. “I don’t know exactly where Ty is, but I know someone who should be able to tell us—your grandmother.”

Zach’s mouth dropped open. “Who?”

“Your father’s mother lives in town. I told you that. I haven’t contacted her because…well, to be honest, I’m nervous of her. She’s disliked me and my sisters for a long time, and I’m not a very brave person, Zach. You know that. A brave person doesn’t run away and hide. A brave person deals with her mistakes and takes responsibility for them.”

She saw him flinch. “Not you, love. You were a gift, not a mistake. My mistake was not being honest from the start. One little lie compounded into this huge deception, and now I have to pay for that. My only regret is that you’re suffering, too.”

He didn’t say anything.

She stroked his hair. “Tomorrow, I’m taking you to meet your grandmother. Perhaps she can tell us how to contact your father. If not, I’ll go through my attorney. But I promise I will talk to him, face-to-face, if possible, before I make any decision about marrying Donnie.” She tilted his chin upward and waited until his gaze met hers. “Okay?”

He nodded then pulled back and turned over.

It wasn’t “I love you, too, Mama,” but it was a start.

D
ONNIE TOOK A SIP
of coffee. His stomach was a mess thanks to a sleepless night. After leaving Kris, he’d returned to an empty house. His mother was at a going-away party with her Gold Creek Garden Club friends; Lucas had spent the night with Sandy.

Donnie had used the silence of the empty house to reflect on the wisdom of his proposal. He’d asked himself whether or not he was being incredibly selfish.

He thought about Lucas. The boy hadn’t been happy for months. Donnie blamed himself for a lot of that. He’d been so busy at work and with his own dreams and plans that he hadn’t given Lucas the attention the child craved. And now he was actually considering leaving Lucas with Kristin and taking off. So the answer to the question about whether or not he was being selfish had to be
yes.
Now the question was, what was he going to do about it?

His mother’s suitcases were sitting by the door awaiting Sandy’s arrival. His ex had volunteered to give Maureen a lift to the Sacramento airport since it was on her way to Redding.

“All packed?” he asked when his mother dashed into the room—the fifth time in five minutes. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

She looked a little scattered but excited, too. Donnie detected a glow in her eyes that had been
missing for a long time. “No, I’m fine. Just a few last-minute things. I’m taking the bare minimum with me, but I don’t want to forget anything important.

“You’ll ship the rest to me next week, right?” She’d insisted on boxing up all her belongings to make room for the nanny-slash-housekeeper. The big stuff was in his garage.

“A live-in nanny’s going to need her own space,” Maureen had insisted when they first discussed the possibility of his hiring someone. “My quarters are perfect—separate bath, microwave, minifridge, private entrance, carport. Whoever you hire ought to love it.”

Donnie had been picturing someone like the Robin Williams character, Mrs. Doubtfire, at the time. Now he tried to imagine what it would be like having Kristin living twenty feet away.

“Oh,” Maureen said, snapping her fingers, “my extra pair of glasses. I’d better have them with me.” She spun on one heel and disappeared down the hallway.

Donnie took another sip of coffee.
Should I tell her about Kristin or not?
Last night, as he’d contemplated the magnitude of his proposal, he’d felt like an idiot. He’d talked to Kristin twice in ten years, then out popped a marriage proposal. It was ridiculous.
He
was ridiculous. He’d caught a glimpse of something good—two friends helping each other out—and he’d plunged in.

“When does your ad come out in the paper?”
Maureen asked when she returned. She pulled out a stool at the counter where Donnie was sitting, but didn’t sit down.

Donnie reached for the coffeepot and freshened the cup in front of him. Something told him not to tell Maureen anything yet. Why burden her with his problems? She had enough on her mind.

“Wednesday,” he said.
Unless I cancel it.
“Sandy’s taking Lucas shopping on their way back from Redding. I thought I’d paint your room this weekend.”

“And shampoo the carpet,” she added sternly. “And put up the new blinds I bought on sale last month. You still haven’t hung them.”

Donnie faked a petulant sigh. “Nag, nag, nag.” He gave her a hug to prove he was teasing.

She briefly rested her head against his shoulder then said, “I know I sound like a broken record, but you need a wife. Then I wouldn’t be the one having to remind you of what needs doing.”

He let her go and turned slightly. It was the perfect opening. Maybe he should test out his proposal on her. “Actually, Mom, I’ve—”

Before he could complete the thought, the front door opened and his son shuffled in, a lumpy backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Good morning, Lucas. Is your mother outside?”

The boy nodded. “I forgot my Yu-Gi-Oh! cards,” he mumbled, walking to the side-by-side refrigerator. He pulled out a quart of chocolate milk
and swished the carton twice then popped off the plastic cap and guzzled the liquid. The pink lid bounced on the floor like a top before rolling to a stop near the stove. When he was done, Lucas set the empty container on the counter and turned to walk away.

Donnie and his mother exchanged a look. “Son,” Donnie said, his tone controlled. “Please put that into the garbage.”

The boy turned slowly. He let out a long sigh then picked up the container and dropped it in the trash compactor. Donnie nodded toward the lid. Lucas shook his mop of unnaturally black locks before stooping to pick up the object. He shoved it in his pocket and left the room.

Maureen sipped her coffee then said, “I hope the housekeeper you hire is up to the challenge.”

Donnie knew exactly what his mother meant. While he didn’t doubt Maureen’s devotion to her grandson for a minute, Donnie knew Lucas was a difficult child, and he wasn’t sure anyone—even a mother as patient and loving as Kristin—could handle him.

As if reading the doubt that attacked him, Maureen put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good father, Donnie. I don’t know any single father who could have done better.”

A horn sounded.

“Better hustle, Lucas,” Donnie called out.

He put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and hugged her against him.

Maureen tilted her head and looked at him. Her ever-sharp antenna must have picked up something, because she said, “Ida Jane told me you visited the antique shop. I assume you went to see Kristin.”

Donnie kissed her cheek. “I never could keep much from you. I did see Kristin. We’re adults, Mom. She’s a devoted mother and a good businesswoman. There’s even a chance she might help me out with Lucas.”

His mother stiffened. “Like be your housekeeper?”

“We’re still working out the details.”

Her lips compressed and a line of worry crossed her forehead, but Donnie didn’t give her time to fret. “It’s all just speculation at the moment. I wasn’t going to tell you until it was settled. Put it out of your mind. My ad comes out Wednesday, and I’ll get this figured out. You are going to fly away and let me worry about what happens here, right?”

It took a few seconds for her to smile again, but she did. She hugged him fiercely then whispered, “If I survive the drive to the airport with Sandy, the rest—even Bobbie’s transplant—ought to be a piece of cake.”

He was still chuckling when the door opened and his ex-wife breezed in without knocking. “Hellooo,” she called in a contrived English accent. “Lucas, sweetie—”

For some reason, the customary prick of anguish, stemming, Donnie figured, from his deep-seated
sense of failure, failed to materialize. Usually being around Sandy left him feeling melancholy and aching for what could have been.

Instead of fretting about the past, he smiled at his ex-wife. “Good morning, Sandy. Coffee?”

She waved a glittery hand in dismissal. “No thanks. I’d love to stay and chat, but you never know about traffic and we don’t want Maureen to miss her plane.”

Donnie carried his mother’s luggage to the car, being careful to lift and bend properly. He grappled Lucas into an awkward hug before the boy could climb into the back seat. Although Maureen had volunteered to sit in the back, Sandy had vetoed the suggestion, saying, “Lucas will have his nose buried in some game by the time we hit the highway. I want someone to talk to.”

It was on the tip of Donnie’s tongue to point out that their son would benefit from Sandy making an effort to talk to him, but he caught his mother’s warning look. She was right. He couldn’t change Sandy, any more than he could change the past.

After one last tearful hug from his mother, Donnie watched as Sandy reversed. Her window slithered down and she stopped to tell him, “I’ll bring Lucas home Monday night. You have my cell if you need to reach us.”

Donnie plastered a smile on his lips and waved. He had some serious soul-searching to do. Then he had to make a decision about what would be best for his son.

“I
DON’T KNOW
what kind of car Gloria drives, so I can’t tell if she’s here or not,” Kristin told Zach Saturday morning as they pulled into a parking place in front of the
Gold Creek Ledger.

Their excursion had been delayed because Lillian Carswell, retired librarian and one of Ida Jane’s closest friends, had arrived late for her massage. The dear woman’s profuse apology had tacked another ten minutes on the clock, but Kristin still gave her a full hour as scheduled.

“You have the hands of an angel,” Lillian told her as she paid her bill. “I’ve passed out your cards to all my friends, but they’re foolish tightwads. I can’t get it through their heads that forty dollars’ worth of prevention could avoid thousands of dollars in doctor bills.”

Kristin wished all her clients were so appreciative of her work. Most exclaimed about how good they felt once the massage was over, but only a committed few scheduled follow-up visits. So, Kris went out of her way to keep good clients—like Lillian—happy. Even if it meant ignoring Zach, who’d
spent the whole time lurking on the bordello’s porch like a gargoyle.

Kristin hadn’t heard from Donnie. And in the light of day, she felt a little foolish about accepting his proposal. People shouldn’t get married for such lame excuses as financial security and health insurance. She planned to tell him that once she tracked down her son’s grandmother and talked to Tyler.

Perhaps she was overreacting. Her assumption that Tyler Harrison posed a threat to her custody of Zach was based on fear and guilt. Kris knew how she’d react if their situations were reversed. But why assume the worst? Maybe Ty had grown up and wouldn’t be vindictive.

“Do you want to wait here or come with me?” she asked her son, who was slumped in the passenger seat as if afraid to be seen with her.

“Wait.”

The monosyllabic kid had returned.

Kristin got out of the car and walked toward the bungalow that housed her brother-in-law’s newspaper. Jonathan Newhall had bought the
Gold Creek Ledger,
lock, stock and building, shortly after the murder charges against him were dropped. The poor man had ended up at Sam’s ranch suffering from amnesia, then three months later had found himself charged with the murder of the old miner, Lars Gunderson, who’d befriended him and who’d turned out to be his uncle. Kris’s sister Andi had never given up believing in Jonathan. Now the two were expecting a baby in December.

Kristin had almost reached the recently revamped entrance when the door opened and Jonathan stepped out. He blinked against the midday brightness and pulled up short. “Kristin,” he exclaimed. “What’s up? Need a new ad?”

She hadn’t planned on discussing her true objective with anyone. She stumbled around for an excuse before deciding she had nothing to hide by admitting the truth. “Um, no, not yet. Gotta make some money before I can spend it, you know.” She tried to peer past him, but a set of gingham curtains blocked the view. “Actually, I was looking for Gloria.”

Jonathan peered over her shoulder toward the car. A keenly intelligent man, he obviously made his own deduction. “She doesn’t work weekends. You might catch her at home, but I heard her mention attending the state fair.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “You could call first.”

Kristin swallowed. “Okay.”

He punched in a two-digit code then handed her the tiny, lightweight object. “I’ll go say hello to my nephew while you talk,” he said, walking away.

Kristin’s gaze followed him. Jonathan was a handsome man, fit and smart. He loved Andi with the devotion of a newlywed, yet their relationship—the part Kristin saw—was filled with good-natured teasing on both sides and a fundamental respect Kris envied. Kris was thrilled that Andi had found her soul mate.
Why can’t I be as lucky as my sisters?

“Hello?” a woman’s voice said.

Kristin pictured the person at the other end of the line. Late sixties. Petite, with elegantly coiffed silver-blond hair. Always immaculately dressed in suits, hose and heels. Kristin didn’t believe she’d ever seen Gloria out of uniform, so to speak. “Hello, Gloria, this is Kristin Sullivan.”

There was a long pause before the woman answered. “I’m surprised to hear from you. What do you want?”

“I thought you might like to meet your grandson. We’re at the
Ledger,
but obviously you’re not here today.”

Well, duh, as Zach would say.

The second pause was even longer than the first. “You’ve been back for several weeks. Why now?” Gloria asked.
Was that a tremor in her voice?

“I’ve been waiting to get something resolved through the courts,” Kris said, which was partly true. “But, it’s taking so long I decided it was silly for you and Zach to live in the same town and not know each other.”

Gloria made a funny sound, but when she spoke, her tone was all business. “I need to check with Tyler first. At what number may I reach you?”

So formal.
Kristin looked at her son, who’d gotten out of the car and was chatting with Jonathan. Zach gravitated toward men like flowers to the sun. He needed a father or a father figure in his life.

Enough of this foolishness, she decided. “You can’t. My cell phone is dead,” she lied. “How
’bout we just drive out? If your son decides you can’t meet your grandson, then we’ll leave. See you in about fifteen.” She pressed the End button and marched to her car.

“Thanks,” she said, handing Jonathan his phone.

“That went well, I take it,” he said, grinning.

“As well as can be expected. That woman has always been a—” Kris stopped herself when she saw her son look at her. “Never mind,” she said. “I’m just glad you’ve taken over the paper, Jon.”

She saw the look Zach and Jonathan exchanged and closed her eyes, regretting her comment. Jonathan patted her shoulder. “Don’t feel badly, Kris. I’ve had at least twenty people tell me the same thing. Gloria used to scare the pants off people—then write about their indecent exposure.” His infectious chuckle made Kristin laugh, too.

“She really had it in for the Sullivan girls,” Kris said once Zach was out of earshot. “Not that I blame her for hating me, I guess. But my sisters shouldn’t have been made to suffer for my crime.”

Jonathan lowered his voice. “You shouldn’t blame yourself either. Crimes of passion are the most defensible. We all have our moments.”

She smiled her gratitude and got in the car. Jonathan was a very nice man; her sister was lucky.
Donnie is a nice man, too. And just as handsome as Jonathan.

She pushed the thought from her mind. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked Zach.

He didn’t speak until they turned onto Stockton
Hill Road. Then, keeping his face toward the window, he asked, “Why isn’t her last name Harrison?”

Kristin turned onto the street leading to an enclave of homes sitting on five- and ten-acre parcels. “Your grandmother was a widow when she married Mr. Hughes. He’s dead now, too. Jenny said he had a heart attack a few years ago. Tyler’s father, Arthur Harrison, was the son of the local banker. The Harrisons were very well off by Gold Creek standards. They had the first swimming pool in town.

“But Ty’s father made some bad investments and wound up losing the bank—and a lot of other people’s money. He…uh, died when Ty was about your age. Maybe a little older.”

Kristin felt ashamed that the details of Tyler’s father’s suicide were fuzzy. She’d probably been focused on making the cheerleading squad or worrying about whether or not Donnie Grimaldo liked her.

“That sucks,” Zach said, looking out the window as the car slowed to maneuver around a curve.

“I think it was very hard on your father. I didn’t know him well, but I seem to recall he had a lot of friends before that happened. Then he just sort of disappeared into the background. I remember him wearing black all the time. And he stopped participating in school functions. He worked at the grocery store part-time and bought himself a Yamaha motorcycle when he turned sixteen.”

Catching a glimmer of interest in her son’s eye,
she scolded, “Don’t even think about it. No way, José.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What happened then?”

“Gloria’s brother owned the newspaper, and she went to work for him. That guy was a real weirdo. I don’t think anybody liked him, and the paper was a joke. But it was the only game in town so people bought it. She started writing a gossip column called ‘Glory’s World,’ and people read it to find out what everybody else was doing.”

“Did she write about what happened with you and my dad?”

“Here we are,” she said, ducking the question.

Zach looked at her. “If you and my dad had gotten married, would you be divorced by now?”

Kris swallowed. “Probably. We barely knew each other, sweetheart. We were drawn together for reasons that seemed important at the time.” She looked at him and smiled. “But I don’t know what we’d still have in common, except you.”

He didn’t say anything. She glanced out the corner of her eye and saw him staring straight ahead. A shiver of premonition passed through her.

She followed his gaze. There, beside Gloria, stood a tall, dark-haired man that could only be Tyler Harrison.

Z
ACH GRABBED
the steering wheel when his mother’s hands fell limp at her sides. She’d gone white when she spotted the man standing on the
porch. So Zach didn’t have to work too hard to figure out who he was.

My dad.

Tall, thin, dark hair. He couldn’t see the resemblance his aunts had made such a big deal about. Maybe the guy’s eyes were like his. And the nose.

So what?
He didn’t look rich. Or powerful. In fact, he looked kinda sickly.

“Well, let’s go meet your father,” his mother said, regaining control. She parked the car then reached across the seat to squeeze Zach’s hand.

He knew he had to move, but he was scared. Real scared. What if the guy didn’t like him?

When his mother first told Zach the news that his father was alive and didn’t know he had a son, he’d been furious with her. But now Zach was going to protect her, even if he was still mad at her. Especially for dragging him to Gold Creek. She might have screwed things up for them, but she was still his mom.

When she opened her car door, Zach opened his. They approached the house—a two-story box with white columns like some mansion from an old movie. Everything in the garden looked neat and tidy.

Sarge would hate it here,
Zach thought, looking around.

“Kristin,” the man said. His voice was strong. Like he was used to bossing people around.

“Hello, Tyler. This is a surprise, but I’m glad you’re here. It’s time you met Zach.”

His mother’s fingers dug into his arm, but Zach didn’t flinch. He lifted his gaze and immediately became engaged in some kind of staring contest with the man who was his father.

“Actually, Kristin,” the man replied, never breaking eye contact with Zach, “the time for that was eleven years ago.”

Zach didn’t like the man’s attitude. He bristled defensively.

His mother jostled his arm, so he’d look at her. “Zachie, I love you so much, but you don’t have to fight my battles,” she said softly.

Then she looked at the man on the porch. “Is this how you want it, Tyler? A battle? Isn’t it possible we both made mistakes?” she asked. “Can’t we let the past go and move on?”

The man whispered something to his mother, who looked at Zach briefly, then disappeared inside. Zach felt his mother brace her shoulders as Tyler walked toward them.

“No, Kristin, we aren’t going to let bygones be bygones. We’re going to court. My lawyer has advised me to sue for full custody. According to him, there’s not a court in this land that won’t take one look at the evidence and declare you an unfit mother.”

Zach jumped forward, his arm out like they taught him in football. “You’re wrong. She’s a good mother.”

To Zach’s surprise, Kristin slipped past him and faced Zach’s father. “You’re both right. I am a
good mother. I’ve always tried my best, and Zach knows how much I love him—even though the past few months have been tough.

“But you’re right, too, Tyler. I was selfish. And scared that you’d try to take him away from me.”

Tyler seemed surprised by her candor, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously and he asked, “Does that mean you’re abdicating your parental rights? You’re giving him to me?”

The thought made Zach shiver. He wished now that he’d brought Sarge along. What if this guy took him away? What if—

“No, Tyler, I’m not giving up anything. I’m offering to share our son with you. Late, yes? But it’s not too late. He’s the most incredible child you’ll ever know. And if you fight me for him, you might win in court, but you’ll lose a whole lot more.”

Zach could tell her words affected his father. Zach was so proud of her he almost smiled, but when she turned to look at him, he saw her tears, and it made him sad.

She hugged him so hard his ribs hurt, then she stepped away. She made a sniffling sound as she dug in her purse for something. A second later she passed him her cell phone. “Do what you have to do, Tyler. I brought Zach here this afternoon to meet your mother. He can call me at the bordello when he’s ready to come home.”

She took Zach’s chin between her thumb and fingers and made him look into her eyes. The tears were there, but she looked determined, too. She
wanted to do the right thing. She was brave. He could be brave, too. For her sake.

D
ONNIE PROPPED
one booted foot on the bottom rung of the wire fence and rested his elbows on the painted one-inch pipe that made up the horizontal railing. About twenty feet beyond, in the middle of the arena a cowboy worked a spirited young gelding, putting the animal through its paces.

The late-afternoon sun soaked into Donnie’s shoulders, melting some of his tension. When he couldn’t find Kristin, he’d come to the Rocking M. No Kris, but maybe Sam would have an answer for Donnie’s dilemma.

“I’m worried about you, my friend,” Sam said. “Something’s troubling you. How can I help?”