Ryan fetched the Sunday Los Angeles Times off the porch and took it to his office. Reading it was a lifelong habit, something he enjoyed, but today nothing held his interest. He couldn’t stop listening for Carly’s car to leave the driveway. When it finally did, he left the paper on the floor in a heap and pulled the SOS list out from under the desk mat. Maybe doing something with his sons would get his mind off Carly.
He hadn’t updated the list since the awful night at her apartment, so he picked up a pen and checked off Take Penny to the park and Meet Kyle’s girlfriend and her parents, things he’d accomplished before the tragedy. He also crossed off Take Eric to an aquarium shop. He’d squeezed that in after the shark fight with Penny. A ten-gallon fresh-water tank now sat in Eric’s room and was teeming with a variety of tetras.
With Penny occupied, Ryan wanted to do something special for the boys. His eyes locked on No. 15: Have breakfast at Minnie’s Pancake House, a place they’d liked when they were younger.
Before going upstairs, he detoured to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. In spite of the gurgle of the Keurig, the kitchen was too quiet, a reminder of the years he sipped his morning caffeine alone or with a woman who had spent the night. He didn’t indulge in one-night stands, but he had dated a lot. He hadn’t thought much about it until Penny came into his daily life, then the boys, and now Carly.
Ryan went upstairs to ask the boys about breakfast. Kyle was in the bathroom, so he knocked on Eric’s door first.
“Come in,” Eric called.
Ryan opened the door, saw a sleepy boy, and recalled the three-year-old who cuddled with a stuffed dinosaur. While Eric yawned, Ryan told him about Carly and Penny going to the beach. “So it’s just us guys. How about breakfast at Minnie’s?”
When Eric groaned, the pancake house with its signature children’s menu seemed all wrong.
“Or we could go somewhere else,” Ryan offered.
With the fish tank gurgling, Eric gave a man-sized stretch. “I kind of want to sleep in.”
It was a rejection but a mild one. And reasonable considering the sheet wrinkles on his cheek. Leaving Eric, Ryan went to Kyle’s room and rapped on the open door.
Kyle looked up from tying his shoes. “Hey, Dad. You know that old barbell set? I thought I’d do some lifting.”
Ryan didn’t bother to mention Minnie’s. The weights and bench, stored in the garage with the Impala, were another relic from Ryan’s past. He’d been scrawny in high school until weightlifting put muscle on his lanky frame. “I’ll back the car out so you can get to them.”
“Cool. Would you spot me?”
“Sure.”
Ryan went to his bedroom, put on cargo shorts and a polo shirt, and pocketed the car keys he kept in a box with cuff links, watches, and other treasures, including his father’s compass-style key chain. When Ryan was a boy, Garrett Tremaine had showed it to him with the admonishment to always know where he was going in life. Fingering it now, Ryan thought of Carly. He possessed the strength of will to keep her at a distance, but pushing her away, especially with her recent loss, seemed wrong to him, even cruel.
He needed to know how to treat her, and for the first time he could recall, his intellect failed to steer him like that old compass. As much as he admired his father, at times like this he missed his mother’s quiet confidence in God. She used to encourage him to pray, something he never did, though a quiet yearning occasionally made him lift his eyes to the sky with the vain hope that God was real. That urge hit now, but he ignored it and went to help Kyle.
When he reached the garage, the big door was open and Kyle was doing stretches on the lawn under a tree where last week Ryan had spotted a wasp nest. The gardener had removed it, but Ryan still glanced around. That’s what fathers did. They protected the people they loved, especially women and children. Animals, too, he admitted, a bit chagrined. He didn’t particularly care for cats, but Tom and Wild Thing were part of his family now.
Was that call to protect instinctive or learned? Ryan didn’t know, but if Kyle was old enough for a girlfriend, it was time for the talk that had been pushed aside in the chaos of the past week. They’d covered the biology a long time ago, but not the tougher questions, like when and who.
Ryan backed the car into the driveway, helped Kyle haul the bench, the bar, and the weights to the middle of the garage, then leaned against the workbench. Kyle picked up weights and set them down, gauging the heaviness to decide which ones to put on the bar.
Breathing in the smell left from the Chevy engine, Ryan draped one foot over the other. “Before you get started, I’d like to talk a minute.”
Kyle selected a ten-pound weight. “About what?”
“Girls.”
“Oh.” His hand went still with the weight in midair. He attached it as well as the matching one for the other side, then looked Ryan in the eye. “You mean Taylor.”
“You’re almost sixteen.” Ryan let the implication sink in. You’re almost an adult, a man. “Taylor’s a nice girl. You both have college ahead of you.”
Kyle’s expression turned stony. “Dad, I know all this.”
“I know you do. It’s just—” Just what? Kyle needed an example, not a lecture. And Ryan had set a poor one with the affair. “Just don’t forget what’s really important.”
“You mean school.”
“No, I mean Taylor.”
Kyle’s cheeks reddened. Looking down, he nudged one of the weights with his foot. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do.” To Ryan’s surprise, he meant it. He’d spoken with both boys about the divorce and his part in it, but Kyle was old enough for the next layer of reality. “You know what happened between your mother and me. I made a bad choice that hurt a lot of people.”
“Yeah.” Old pain leaked into his voice. “What are you trying to say?”
Ryan didn’t really know, and that was the problem. It was one thing for an adult to set his own moral compass, but Kyle was a teenager. Make your own rules struck Ryan as terrible advice. He wondered what Carly would say, thought of the way she cared about people, and saw a simple answer. “Don’t be selfish. Put Taylor first. You’re too young to be too serious. You might get a do-over in sports, but you don’t in real life.”
Kyle put his hands on his hips, his chin high. “Dad, I get it. Mom’s given me this talk about a hundred times.”
Hooray for Heather. Ryan made a mental note to thank his ex-wife for picking up the pieces yet again. They’d both moved on emotionally, but they’d be forever linked through their sons. With nothing more to say, Ryan pointed at the weight bench. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, sure.” Kyle hesitated. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it okay if I ask Taylor over for dinner? Maybe next Tuesday?”
“Of course.” Tuesdays were Family Nights and the best part of Ryan’s week. “Just check with Carly.”
“I will.” Kyle grinned. “She’s a good cook, isn’t she?”
“The best.”
Kyle stretched flat on the weight bench, flexed his fingers, then gripped the bar and started to press. Ryan stood close, counting out loud and ready to grab the bar if Kyle ran out of steam.
“Seven,” he counted. “Eight.”
Kyle’s arms wobbled. Ryan reached for the bar, ready to grab it, but Kyle squeezed out the ninth rep. On the tenth, Ryan lifted the bar from him, felt the weight, and realized something. As surely as the reps were building muscle for Kyle, Ryan’s past mistakes had prepared him for the situation with Carly. He just needed to take his own advice.
Don’t be selfish. Put her first.
He hoped she was enjoying the beach, but he sensed she needed more than the vague comfort of waves rolling up dry sand. Grieving for Bette and maybe homesick for Kentucky, she needed a real friend. It was a beautiful day, a perfect day to take the Impala for a spin, so Ryan decided to find her.
But first Kyle needed to finish his workout. With Ryan ready to grab the bar, Kyle did five more series of reps, resting in between. “Man, this is hard.”
Ryan laughed. “No pain, no gain.”
“Yeah, right,” Kyle shot back.
When he finished, they put away the weights. Ryan fingered the key to the Impala. “Are you going to be home for a while?”
“Until four or so. Taylor’s mom is driving us to the movies.”
“In that case, I’m going to check on Carly and Penny. Eric’s still asleep. Keep an eye on things, all right?”
Kyle gave a thumbs-up, draped a towel around his neck, and headed for the back gate. Ryan hadn’t driven the Impala since Penny tracked berry juice all over the seat, so he paused to check the upholstery. Sometimes stains re-emerged, but the seat looked as good as new. Pleased, he sat behind the big steering wheel, adjusted his sunglasses, and headed to the beach.