WEDNESDAY WAS LEANN’S day off.
In truth, as she turned into the elementary school’s parking lot, she mused how this day probably wouldn’t be too relaxing. Number one on her schedule was to switch her cop persona for her mom persona.
If she were lucky, she’d do a decent job.
The problem with being a cop, Leann thought while standing at the back of her son’s sixth-grade classroom, was she’d grown used to issuing orders and having them immediately obeyed.
That didn’t work in a sixth-grade classroom, especially when she was dressed in tennis shoes, old jeans and a bright red button-down.
“Mom,” Tim whispered, “don’t embarrass me.”
She shot him a look that had just last week sent a computer hacker to his knees in fear. Tim, however, was made of sterner stuff and huffed away. Honestly, working a ten-hour shift yesterday bringing down bad guys—Gary, dog owner extraordinaire; the outdated tag guy; and two speeders—was easier than helping in her older son’s class. And, to add insult to injury, she was helping with a Valentine’s Day art project. First problem—Leann wasn’t artistic. Second problem—she’d not been anyone’s Valentine in—she quickly counted in her head—five years.
No, six.
“Mom,” came a groan.
For the next hour, Leann worked her station. Every fifteen minutes she got a new group of eleven- and twelve-year-olds. She provided paint, clean paintbrushes and wipes to clean their hands with. Pinecones went from brittle brown to bright pink or red. Some pinecones were saturated; others were spotty. Most of the girls didn’t get any paint on their hands but cleaned them anyway. Most of the boys got paint on their hands, shirts and pants. Tim—she was no longer allowed to call him Bug, her pet name for him—managed to get paint on his ear. She quickly whipped out her cell phone and took a photo, which earned yet another roll of the eyes and an exasperated, “Moooom!”
Finally, the kids trudged off to PE and she and Patsy, the mother who’d thought up this punishment, helped the teacher clean up. In two days—once the paint dried—the students would glue on fake eyes and kissy lips and add pipe cleaners for arms and legs. Then they’d add a heart to the Valentine people. Leann figured it would have been easier to hand them a piece of paper and some colored pencils.
Patsy Newcastle, mom and Pinterest fan extraordinaire, never lacked for ideas. She’d found the Valentine’s people art project on Pinterest and had fallen in love. No surprise. Last year, Leann had helped the sixth-graders—then fifth-graders—make flowerpot people for Christmas, pinto bean turkeys for Thanksgiving and giant, hanging black licorice spiders for Halloween.
Leann felt sorry for Aaron in fourth grade. Anything art related was really limited, so Leanne usually took home extra unused material from Tim’s class so she and Aaron could make the projects. He liked making the giant licorice spider the best and probably would still have it hanging from his ceiling if he hadn’t eaten it.
She wasn’t so sure she still liked Patsy, who was saying, “I’ve already got an idea for Easter.”
“Are we even allowed to celebrate Easter in school?” Leann cautioned.
Patsy narrowed her eyes. “I’ll take responsibility.”
And, Leann would back her up. Patsy had been her best friend since their own sixth-grade year. The only private school in town had closed down, and, gasp, the Crabtree children had been forced into attending public school.
Leann loved it. The first day, she’d sat across from Patsy, who secretly passed her a stick of gum, and their friendship had been cemented. They’d become even closer when they gave birth to their first babies on the same day. Ryan hadn’t made it back to town and to the hospital until it was time to drive Leann and little Ryan—her ex insisted on naming the baby after himself—home. Patsy’s husband, however, had bounced between rooms, handing out chocolate cigars to visitors—Patsy had dozens; Leann had two: Patsy’s husband and Gail—and making sure both women had plenty of chocolate. Later, Patsy confided that half the time when he handed out a cigar, he’d said, “We have a boy! And so does Leann.”
The day Leann’s divorce finalized she stopped calling Ryan by his first name and switched to his middle name of Timothy, now Tim. So far, he hadn’t questioned it.
Exiting the classroom, they made their way past the playground—earning Leann a “Hi, Mom!” from Aaron, who was swinging and not embarrassed of her at all—and through the school office to their cars. Patsy wasn’t going back to work. She’d married a doctor and now acted as his receptionist, meaning she could make her own hours.
“I’ve got your boys after school,” Patsy reminded her. “Don’t worry. I’m thinking pizza and Star Wars.”
“I’m thinking pizza and homework,” Leann countered.
“I’m thinking a free babysitter is worth the price.” Patsy’s laugh choked off almost before it started. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease about this.”
Leann shook her head. “Don’t be. I knew Ryan would exit out eventually.”
“Nothing will change,” Patsy predicted. Her tone, however, didn’t support her words. “When do you see the lawyer about the new custody arrangements?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I can come with you.”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to always do everything by yourself. You have friends.” Patsy got in her car, rolled down her window and added, “I certainly don’t hesitate to make you do things with me, even if you’d rather do anything else. Don’t forget you’re both attending and helping with the Mother/Son Valentine’s Day dance Saturday after this one.”
“No kidding,” Leann said. “Both my boys have offered their opinions about my presence. Aaron thinks it’s cool, but Tim assures me no one will be attending. No one. He insists the school will be empty.”
“Being a sixth-grader’s mom is not for wimps,” Patsy cautioned. “Neither is being a cop. I hear there’s a good-looking newcomer in town and that twice you’ve threatened to arrest him.”
“What?”
“I gave you every opportunity to bring it up,” Patsy said. “You could have mentioned Gary Guzman when we were setting up the art project or just now as we’re fixing to leave, but no, not a word. I have to bring it up. What kind of best friend are you?”
“The kind that doesn’t bring up unimportant things. The kind who doesn’t go around arresting good-looking newcomers.”
“Ah, so you admit he’s good-looking.” Patsy emphasized the word. “Leann, I’ve seen him walking his dog. The man is gorgeous.”
“Dogs,” Leann corrected. “Now he has dogs. As in more than one. And, he’s unemployed and ex-military. I’ve already been a military wife. Rewarding, but she wanted a personal challenge for herself. Nope, nope, not the man for me. I could never trust him. I can’t believe you want me to go all doe-eyed over someone I’d never be able to trust.”
“Actually, yes, I do. You need a life, especially now that Ryan’s moving back.” Patsy’s voice practically oozed as she tried to add humor to what Leann considered the worst news ever. “Gary is Oscar’s brother, which means he’s nothing like your ex, and I’m sure he’s a good guy. Go have some fun. At the very least, Gary could remind Ryan what a mistake he made letting you go.”
Leann shook her head. Patsy watched way too many romance movies and truly believed in heroes. Leann knew better. What she didn’t share with Patsy was that the gorgeous—and yes he was—Gary Guzman, however, wasn’t just unemployed. He was also living on his aunt’s charity and, by his own account, was not at a place he could take care of others.
“Ahem!” Patsy was louder this time. “You’re off in la-la land, definitely not like you.”
“Sorry,” Leann said. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Any of it have to do with Geraldo Guzman?”
“Geraldo?”
“That is his first name. You knew that, right?”
“No.” Since the first meeting, she’d been one step behind. First, not getting his name at all and now not having the whole name.
“It’s a manly name.”
Leann almost gagged. One thing was for sure, Patsy wasn’t subtle. She was trying to get a rise out of Leann, but it wasn’t going to happen. “I… Oh, never mind. I need to get back to work.” Then, she rolled up her window and drove away, making sure not to look in the rearview mirror, where she’d see Patsy either bent over laughing or, worse, with a contemplative look on her face as she tried to figure out ways to get Leann and Gary together.
Not happening.
Worst timing ever.
Patsy had always dragged Leann into activities she’d never have ventured into on her own. And, Patsy had what looked like a perfect life. Her two children, a boy and girl, had been blessed with the willing-to-do-homework gene. Leann’s two boys hadn’t. Tim on a good day remembered he had homework but didn’t do it. Aaron, a fourth-grader, couldn’t even spell homework, so he claimed.
She didn’t pressure her boys. She expected them to do their best, worked with them when they struggled, and pushed only when she had to. They knew they were loved.
Something that, when she was their age, she’d not experienced. And, quite honestly, she’d not experienced it as an adult either. She doubted she ever would.
* * *
A NOISE REVERBERATED, LOUDLY. Gary’s eyes snapped open; sleep interrupted. He rolled and in one fluid motion crouched facing the door. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light so he could note windows with their blinds down but allowing in sunshine—too bright to signal morning—that accentuated a light burgundy door with a glass ornate knob. A white robe advertising Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast hung on a hook.
It took a few deep breaths before his heartbeat slowed and the adrenaline rush ebbed. He could accept that he was in Sarasota Falls, in a bedroom.
Downstairs came voices, his aunt greeting new guests and the chaos new guests carried with them; simultaneously, Wilma began to bark.
It was a safe kind of chaos, which, unfortunately, had induced Gary to head upstairs a few hours ago to check his cell phone and make a few calls. He remembered lying down, thinking to be lazy as he checked his phone but falling asleep for no reason…
The way his heart was beating, he knew he’d not fall back to sleep, not that he wanted to, and he needed to get Wilma quieted before the neighbors called the police again.
Hmm, would Leann be the responder?
No, his luck wouldn’t work that way. This time he’d get his brother. Come to think of it, he didn’t want to tell either of them that he’d been napping away the late afternoon with nothing to do and no one to notice.
Quickly, Gary changed out of his jeans and into shorts, T-shirt and his jogging shoes.
His workout routine had the additional perk of making his aunt Bianca laugh. Something about his having a Bianca’s Bed-and-Breakfast bath towel spread on the backyard grass, jumping over it and doing squats, tickled her funny bone. Then, Wilma gave him grief when he’d added her to the jogging regimen. Their time leash jogging had been a combination of his forcefully dragging her along or giving up and letting the dog sniff and meander whenever she wanted.
It meant Gary got half a workout.
Gary did, however, understand and appreciate the solid offensive stance Wilma assumed during cat reconnaissance.
Today, though, newcomer Goober proved to be a willing participant and eagerly took to the harness.
When Gary started his run, Goober trotted alongside in perfect sync. Surprise, surprise, Wilma followed Goober’s example. Maybe tomorrow he’d ditch Wilma, just take Goober, and see if he could do a four-minute mile, weighed down by a sixty-pound backpack and with a collie as his formation.
Something about the evening felt right, so instead of heading to the park and jogging the trail, Gary headed through some residential areas where cars were turning into driveways and individuals or families were exiting: parents who just finished work or parents who’d finished work, picked up kids and finally arrived home.
He and his siblings had walked back and forth to school, no need for keys as four houses in a row, on their street, had belonged to relatives. There’d always been an aunt with a cookie or an uncle wanting Gary to help rake the leaves. Plus, there was a key under a rock in the backyard. Probably still there.
The neighborhood changed, the houses got smaller and the yards looked more lived in. Gary’s jog turned into a slow trot as his conversation with Aunt Bianca reared its head and memories materialized. The home he’d grown up in had been the last on the block, the old farm of some long-ago immigrant, and it had been added to by so many generations that it looked like three houses all leaning against each other.
He stopped, no longer smelling the juniper or feeling the faint pain in his thigh where a piece of shrapnel had carved a quarter-sized hole.
Theirs had been the house with the best yard. He’d grown up playing kickball, dodgeball and hide-and-seek, until his father had disappeared and hide-and-seek became a term his mother used disparagingly.
“Hey!”
The word wasn’t directed at him, but it was loud enough to get Gary’s attention. Goober’s ears perked up. Wilma was too busy investigating a patch of grass to notice.
Two boys tumbled from a house about four lots away from where he stood. The older one clutched a football. Squaring off in the front yard, they began tossing. Within a minute, Gary could see that the taller one clearly had skill but no patience with the younger one, who seemed better at chasing the ball than catching it. The younger boy also had zero control when throwing.
“Hey!” The word became the chant of the older one as he got more and more frustrated.
Gary smiled. This could have been a scene from his childhood. He and Oscar with their younger brother, Hector, who’d always been more brainy than brawny.
“Hey!” Not a chance was the older boy going to get a workout. He seemed to know it, and his cheeks went slightly red even as his lips pressed together in ire. “I might as well be playing with a girl,” he finally spat.
Gary almost laughed. His sister, Anna, ran faster than big brother Oscar, threw farther than baby brother Hector and caught better than Gary—not that he’d ever admit the defect.
“I’m telling Mom,” the little guy croaked.
“No need,” said a familiar voice.
What? Did the woman have a beacon that drew him to her? Gary watched as Leann stepped out from the front door. Her hair was longer than he’d thought, and a bit redder, like mahogany. He moved off the sidewalk and onto grass where he watched from a safe distance, somewhat hidden by a tree. Goober obediently sat at his feet. Wilma pulled at the leash, heading toward Leann and her sons. Not a chance. Gary liked where he was, what he was watching.
The older boy made a strange hissing sound. Gary recognized it. It was the sound of a youngster who knew he was about to be bested and didn’t like it one bit.
“You don’t count, Mom,” the kid said. “You’re a cop. That means you can throw a football.”
“I could throw a football long before I became a cop,” Leann responded. “And, I’ve never, not once, thrown a football at a criminal.”
Gary had a sudden image of Leann throwing a football at some punk running away from a convenience store robbery.
“I have, however,” Leann said, “thrown footballs at my boys. Both of them!” With that, she snagged the football from the younger boy’s hands and spiraled it to the older boy, who jumped, managed to get his hands almost on the sides but lost his grip.
“Ha!” Leann said.
“Ha,” the younger boy echoed.
For the next few minutes, the front yard was filled with the younger boy tripping over his feet; the older boy scrambling, trying to catch easily and throw fiercely; and his mother not giving an inch until finally when the ball landed in a neighbor’s yard. All three of them charged for it and fell in a heap, laughing, until the younger boy’s hand shot in the air, ball carefully balanced.
Goober let out a low whine expressing her desire to inch closer, get to know them, play. Gary understood. He wanted to join in the fray, too.
What was it his aunt had said? Oh, yeah, that Leann had a story worth telling.
Gary turned and walked away. He knew all about stories, especially the kind his aunt read. She still believed in happily-ever-after. He wanted to, thought maybe his brother Oscar had managed to find it, but Gary too vividly remembered his mother’s love story, which ended with his father walking off the page. Never returning.
Aunt Bianca believed Gary could actually find out what happened to his father. Maybe that’s what he should focus on because he sure didn’t need to be focusing on single mother Leann Bailey, who was all I-can-out-football-you-and-look-great-doing-it.
She was all about stability; he was all about just making it from one day to the next.