CHAPTER EIGHT

 

When Chic called, he ran. That wasn’t just his job, it was his life. He didn’t like it, but he did it and did it well. Most of all, he accepted it. She couldn’t. A day hadn’t passed in months they hadn’t at least spoken on the phone. And as summer sped toward fall, they saw each other as often as they could. They were taking it slow, and he thought it might be killing him. He would die for her. But every time his phone rang, she pulled away from him.

She tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did. His work presented an issue in their relationship he could do little about. They’d begun arguing about it. He asked her to trust him, but she didn’t. And he knew it. Just as he knew he would lose her.

“I’m a cop. A cop! I put guys like you in jail for a living.”

“It’s what you do, not who you are.”

“Bullshit.” She stomped her feet in frustration. “Does it make you feel better to tell me that? Is that how you justify what you do? It’s what you do, not who you are? You think the pieces of shit who killed Guff are sitting in prison saying it was just my job? Cost of doing business, thank you very much.”

“Oh, so you won’t talk to me about Guff, but you’ll use his death against me in an argument?” He stood, angry. She wouldn’t share that with him, refused to discuss it. She shut down whenever he made an attempt to discuss her late partner. One of the several pieces of herself she held back. Like her family and her friends. No one knew they were dating. She’d prepared for the end since the beginning.

“This is a mistake.”

“What is?” His heart raced. When he looked down, he saw his father’s hands.

“Us. We’re a mistake. We’re just too different.”

“I’m leaving. It’s up to you whether I come back.” He yanked her close, kissed her hard and left. Part of him wanted to start his bike up and just drive, drive and never come back. Instead, he left it parked at Kylee’s and walked to Devane’s.

He ordered the shot of whiskey, but didn’t touch it. He sat his phone on the bar next to the glass and stared at them both. Reaching for either would be defeat.

I am not my father. I’m not going to hide in a bottle. I won’t hurt the people I care about. That doesn’t make a man strong. But he wasn’t a weak man either. I’m not going to beg. I can’t quit. He stared at his cell phone. Willed it to ring. I should just let it go. Let her go. I’m not good enough for her anyway.

I’m James Donovan’s son.

“Booze doesn’t work by osmosis you know.”

The joy her voice brought cowed him and banked the simmering rage. She thought so little of him. And he had no way to prove her wrong. He grabbed the shot; downed it; and said nothing as she claimed the closest stool. He couldn’t let her know, couldn’t let her see, what she meant to him already.

Tim came over and turned his cheek for a kiss. She asked about Retta and the kids. He added bartender to the mental list of Parker-accepted occupations he’d compiled. Tim gave her a rum and cola before beating a hasty retreat. It may have been the nasty look JD shot him when he’d kissed her cheek. He couldn’t be sure.

“Tomorrow is the weekly family dinner at my parents’ house.”

He looked at her.

“Not going to make this easy on me are you, Donovan?”

“No I’m not, Officer Parker.”

She laughed in his face, and he fought to keep the corners of his mouth from curving.

“I’d like for you to come with me to my parents for dinner tomorrow, if you shut off your cell for a couple hours.”

“Will there always be conditions?”

“As long as you work for Chic Checcio—yes.”

He considered. He nodded. She smiled and kissed him long and hard on the mouth. He considered the invitation and the public display of affection a two-prong victory. And refused to listen to the mocking voice in his head.

“Looks like I’m coming to dinner.”

* * *

He looked good. Too good. Clean shaven in a pressed oxford shirt, wearing khakis and moccasins. He gave the impression of a young professional. And pulled it off.

“Did you get a haircut?”

“Yeah, why, does it look stupid?” His fingers drummed a beat against his leg.

He’s nervous. She smiled. “You look good, baby.”

His eyes widened. He used little pet names when he talked to her, but she didn’t think anything of those little endearments. He often called waitresses “sweetheart,” and once he referred to a bank teller as “honey.” But it wasn’t something she did as casually as he, and she suspected he’d read all kinds of things into the slip.

“Don’t make that face. This isn’t chess. You haven’t just made a critical error in strategy, and you haven’t lost any ground.” His fingers picked up the abandoned tempo, drumming frantically.

“I don’t know why you’re mad. But stuff it, because we’re here.” How can he read me so easily? He doesn’t know me that well. How could he?

She pulled to the curb, parked and faced him. She had something she wanted to say, but she couldn’t remember what. He was nervous when they left her house, she didn’t feel nerves coming off him now. Something heavy hung in the air between them. His eyes, it’s his eyes; he won’t look directly at me. Hasn’t since I called him baby.

“What’s wrong?”

“Now’s not the time. Later, okay?”

He smiled and opened the car door. She sat a moment longer while he circled around to her side. Whatever it was, he’d shaken it off already. She smiled when he opened her car door for her. He smiled back, no trace of the awkward moment they’d just had, no trace of the nerves he’d displayed earlier. He thought he was ready for this. Nothing could prepare him for dinner with her family. They’ll be kind. But they’ll also be nosey. She hopped out and led him to the back door.

Her mom stood at the sink, and the scent of roasting beef permeated the air. Her mom put down the peeler she wielded and pulled Jayson into a warm hug. Her dad left his paper on the breakfast bar and stood.

“Hey there, handsome. It’s been too long.”

“Hi, Mrs. Parker.” He smiled and returned her embrace.

“I could’ve sworn I told you not to make moves on my woman once already, young man.”

Her father took his hand, shook it like men do, but then pulled Jayson close for a hug that seemed to flummox him.

“How’ve you been?”

“My life improved by leaps and bounds when I smelled dinner.” He slung an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Oh my parents are going to love that.

“Wait till you taste it. Beer?”

“Yes, please.”

She dropped her bag on a chair, got a second peeler from the drawer and started working on potatoes while the men disappeared into the basement. Her dad had a refrigerator down there in his work room. Mom didn’t let him keep beer in the kitchen.

“I’ve got a big roast in the oven. Don’t ruin your dinner,” her mother hollered at their backs. “I’m worried about Jayson. Everyone is coming tonight. It’s a lot to take in all at once. We should’ve done something more intimate first. Just the four of us.”

“Too late now. Consider it trial by fire.” She smiled. It’s one way of weeding out the unworthy.

“You guys having sex yet?”

“Jesus, Mom, what kind of question is that?”

“The kind you’re going to get from your brothers and sisters.”

Talk about trial by fire.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“No. We’re not.”

“Why not? He’s handsome as sin.”

Her niece and nephew rushed into the kitchen saving her from continuing that humiliating conversation. She squatted down to eye level and returned hugs and kisses, oohed and aahed over a lost tooth, and showered praise over an imaginatively drawn beach scene. Purple ocean and green sand, should be titled Dr. Seuss Takes a Holiday. Jordan stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, when she straightened.

“Where is he?”

“In the basement with Daddy. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not, not always. Why are you here so early?”

Jordan smiled.

“Mom, she got here early just so she could interrogate Jayson.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling on me. You’re as bad as my kids.”

“It never stops, Jordan. I’ve got five kids and as soon as any two or more of you are in the same room at the same time, the tattling, teasing and rivalries from decades ago float right up to the surface.” Their mom turned and levied a spoon at them. They stood arm and arm, smiling at her. “Brats. Get out of my kitchen.”

They laughed and did as they were told.

“And Jordan? Be nice to Jayson.”

“Ha, I told ya.” She laughed and quickly stepped out of her sister’s reach. The front door opened, and more of her family filed in. The entire Parker clan had come early. Poor Jayson, we may never get him out of Daddy’s workshop.

She sat in her mother’s favorite chair, her youngest nephew, Gabriel, nestled and sleeping on her shoulder. Despite her conversation with Scott and Marisa, she saw him turn into the dining room. He stopped, mid-sentence, and stared.

Jessie and Molly were running; and James tripped over his own feet trying to keep up with the two older girls. Tray jabbered nonsense in Greg’s ear. Mikey banged a toy against the tray of his walker. Jordan yelled at the kids to stop running, and Mike and Kira were exchanging information on pediatricians with Pat and Susan. Kylee attributed the stunned look on his face to his first encounter with the entire Parker clan and smiled.

He crossed to her, negotiating the war zone like a veteran. Dodging children and stepping around adults while murmuring absent greetings. Then bent and kissed her lips before running a fingertip over her nephew’s soft downy head.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“Dinner’s ready,” her mom bellowed. Whoops, catcalls and the drumming of feet beating a path to the dinner table filled the room. Jayson helped her up and wrapped an arm around her.

“Save us two seats before we end up in folding chairs. I’m going to lay this guy down.”

She set Gabriel on his belly, patted his diapered bottom when he squirmed and threatened to wake. When she thought it safe, she tiptoed into the dining room. Jayson watched her from where he stood sentry behind two of the good chairs. She couldn’t put a word to the look on his face, but the expression sported by every member of her family over the age of five she recognized. I am never gonna hear the end of this.

After dinner, she and Jordan lost the coin toss and stood hip to hip before the kitchen sink. They’d been taking turns washing and drying for twenty years. It was the little routines she appreciated, like pretending they didn’t know the boys used a trick coin to get out of dish duty.

“I miss it sometimes.”

“You don’t wash dishes at your house?” She blew bubbles at her sister and laughed.

“I wish.” Jordan swatted her with the dishrag. “I miss Greg looking at me like I’m the only other person in the room. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I love my husband, and I know he loves me too. But with the greenhouse and the kids, we have so little time, so little romance. Seriously, LeeLee, every day is full of poop. I’m not playing, so don’t smile at me. I’m talking mulch, fertilizer, baby poo, dog shit, you name it. It’s everywhere, all day, every day. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change a minute of our life together for all the tea in China. But I’d be willing to sell my Tetley for him to look at me the way Jayson looks at you.”

“You know I’d take the kids in a heartbeat, all you ever need to do is ask. In fact, why don’t you guys plan a romantic weekend away and I’ll keep all three kids with me?”

“Really? You mean it?”

“Damn right, I mean it. I’ll email you my schedule. Whatever weekend I’m not on shift works best for you two, you take a mini-vacation, ‘kay?”

“Making time with my girl?” Jayson asked from the doorway.

Jordan turned away. Married or not, she wasn’t about to let a good-looking man catch her crying into their mother’s dishrag. Her sister was far too vain.

“For future reference, that line only works when Daddy uses it.” She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed his behind. “We’re almost done in here. Sounds like Dad needs a hand convincing the others to help him build mom’s gazebo. Give him a hand?”

He nipped her bottom lip, grabbed a cookie and strutted into the living room. She and her sister giggled, then the giggling escalated into laughter.

“Oh, my God, you left a foamy handprint on his ass!”

“I know. I did it on purpose.”

Then they heard the laughter and catcalls from the living room, and Jayson’s “What the hell?” followed by Molly’s “You said a bad word,” and their laughter turned to hilarity until they their mother hollered, “Kylee Ann!”