PAM COULDN’T HELP HERSELF. She picked up the sugary doughnut laced with colored sprinkles and took the first satisfying bite, oblivious to the early morning chatter and bustle of the teachers’ lounge. One sinful indulgence. Surely it couldn’t hurt. As if in agreement, a tiny kick nudged her tummy.
Connie edged up next to her, a teasing smile on her face. “Back to your evil ways, huh?”
“Caught in the act,” Pam acknowledged, brushing crumbs off her maternity jumper.
“This is the big day, right?”
“I can’t wait.” Her ultrasound appointment was at eleven.
“Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”
“No way. I love surprises.” She finished the doughnut, wiped her mouth, then balled up the napkin and tossed it across the room into the wastebasket. “It’s like opening night and Christmas morning all rolled into one.”
“Good for you.” Connie topped off her coffee. “Any further instructions about covering your class?”
“Just keep Beau Jasper’s nose to the grindstone. Thanks for covering for me, Connie. I owe you one.”
“What time are you and Grant leaving?”
“Grant?”
“Surely he’s going with you?”
“He couldn’t justify abandoning his calculus class. Besides, he has lunch duty today.”
Connie searched her face, while Pam did her best to act as if going to her ultrasound alone was no big deal. Finally Connie simply said, “Men!” in a tone of voice that left no doubt which sex, at that moment, she considered inferior.
IT FELT LIKE playing hookey to be on her way to the doctor while her class was deep into a discussion of imagery in Hamlet. At least she hoped that’s what was happening. Barney must be excited about the upcoming ultrasound, too. He beat enthusiastic tattoos all the way to Dr. Ellis’s office.
Miraculously, the doctor was on schedule, and after the initial exam, Pam, uncomfortably bloated with all the water she’d had to drink in preparation, was sent down the hall to the ultrasound room. The technician helped her lie down, then bared her abdomen and applied a cold jellylike substance. “I’ll get the doctor,” she said, leaving the room. In her absence, Pam’s excited anticipation turned more and more to apprehension. What if something was wrong with the baby? She closed her eyes against the thought. She’d already had one scare. She couldn’t bear another.
“Pam?” Belinda Ellis, a broad smile on her face, peeped in the door. “Are you ready?”
“Most definitely.”
“Good.” She opened the door wider. “I have a surprise for you.” She stepped inside, followed by the technician, and then by Grant. “Your husband was able to make it after all.”
“Grant?” She turned her head and saw his big frame filling the range of her vision.
He hurried to the examining table. “You didn’t think I wanted to miss this, did you?”
Pam was aware of Dr. Ellis, studying them with the delight of an approving parent. “But how—”
“When Connie found out I couldn’t come, she turned into a one-woman dynamo, getting Jessie Flanders, of all people, to cover calculus and recruiting poor Jim to take my lunch duty.”
Pam smiled wanly, aware of the bittersweet quality of the moment.
Dr. Ellis spoke up. “Are you ready to meet this baby?”
Grant clutched Pam’s hand. “We sure are.”
Was it only this morning she’d told Connie she liked surprises? She wasn’t sure about this one, though. The more a part of this pregnancy Grant became, the more painful it would be when she had to leave him.
Then filling the screen was the image of a curved spine, a large head, and…
“See?” Dr. Ellis took the pointer and highlighted a blurry portion of the picture. “There are the hands.”
“Wow,” Grant said, squeezing Pam’s fingers.
“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Dr. Ellis said, as if this was the first time she’d seen an ultrasound.
“Oh, honey,” Pam addressed the screen, “I loved you before, but now…” She couldn’t go on, overwhelmed with powerful maternal feelings.
When the technician finally turned off the machine, Pam slowly lifted her gaze to Grant. Another surprise.
Tears he made no effort to wipe away coursed down his cheeks.
IT WAS JUST AS WELL they had two cars, Grant thought, as he slowly drove back to Keystone. He needed time to take in what he’d just witnessed. Movement. Tiny skeletal features. Amazing. Had Shelley done this test with Andy? Surely he’d have remembered.
When Dr. Ellis had confirmed the pregnancy was proceeding normally, he didn’t know who was more relieved, Pam or him.
But why hadn’t she asked him to come to the appointment with her? Was she shutting him out? He had to admit it hurt. Yet what right did he have to be there? He wasn’t the father.
The father. Just thinking about him caused Grant’s gut to tighten. Did he have any idea how difficult he’d made Pam’s life? Hell. No matter what was going on in his personal life, the man should’ve… Should’ve what? Not loved Pam? Damn difficult to do if his own experience was any measure. If Pam didn’t blame the guy, how could he?
All he knew was he wouldn’t have missed being there today for anything. Seeing the ultrasound had made the baby real in a way nothing else had. Most confusing was the fact that he could no longer think of it as a baby.
For reasons that had nothing to do with biology, a single notion filled his head—you’re my baby. Pam’s and mine.
Yet that could never be.
Weird. And cool, too. The pictures you brought home from the doctor, I mean. Did you ever see that fetus or embryo or whatever in the movie 2001, A Space Odyssey? That’s kinda what your baby looks like. I don’t mean any disrespect. I’m sure it’ll be lots cuter after it’s born.
Pam stifled a smile. Bless Andy’s heart, he was trying so hard to make her feel better, as if she’d been disappointed that her baby looked just as it was supposed to at sixteen weeks.
The other cool thing is that Gramps is coming to live with us for a while. I’m sorry he has to have his knee replaced, but this means I’ll get to spend more time with him. You’re lucky to have a dad like him. The kind that doesn’t get on your case or talk at you all the time, but really listens.
Viola had crawled underneath the afghan Pam had spread over her legs and was rooting around, seemingly puzzled by the altered contours of Pam’s lap. Eventually she settled her head right where the baby had been kicking a short time ago. Pam reread the last two sentences with mixed emotions. It was an accurate comment about her dad, but was Andy also saying something about Grant?
I need to ask you a big favor. I wanna get something nice for Angie for Christmas. Not anything too girly like perfume or bubble bath. But talk about clueless. That’s me. So I was kind of wondering if maybe you’d go with me to help pick something out. But don’t tell Dad, okay? It’s no big deal.
Viola nudged the afghan aside and looked up at her with knowing eyes. “You’re right, Vee. Those two guys are impossible.” She leaned over and whispered in Viola’s ear, “But I’m flattered Andy trusts me. I’m afraid trust is something he doesn’t know much about.”
THE NIGHT BEFORE Will’s surgery, Pam perched at the foot of his hospital bed while Andy sat in the single armchair, one jiggling foot crossed over his other knee. From beyond the drawn curtain, Will’s roommate’s family prattled in overly hearty voices about that patient’s recovery from a broken pelvis. “Grant said to wish you luck. He was sorry he couldn’t make it.”
“Big game?”
Pam caught Andy rolling his eyes. “This is the finals of the pre-Christmas Keystone Invitational Tournament, Dad. He was pretty keyed up.”
“From what he tells me, they’ve got a good season going. After I get my sticks back under me, I’d like to take in a game or two before I head home.”
“Grant would like that.” Pam nervously smoothed the fabric of the bedspread.
“What about you, son?” Will turned a craggy smile on Andy. “Will you go along and fill me in about the players, all the inside stuff?”
“Not much to tell,” Andy mumbled. “It’s all about Beau Jasper.”
“One-man team?”
Andy nodded.
“There’s more to a rodeo than the bull riding. And it doesn’t do to have men pulling in different directions. That only works in calf roping.” He coughed dryly.
“Jasper’s really good, Gramps.”
“When he’s eligible,” Pam said.
Andy’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”
Too late Pam realized she should have kept her mouth shut. Although it was inevitable Andy would pick up some school gossip, she’d been irresponsible to volunteer it. “Oh, nothing much. But he’s struggling in English, that’s all.”
“You wouldn’t flunk him?” Andy was incredulous.
Gramps scooted back against his pillow. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“It’d screw the team.”
“First of all, I doubt that, son. But more important, aren’t there rules about keeping your grades up?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“No buts, boy. A fella has to live by some sort of code. He’s not much of a man if he doesn’t play by the rules.”
Andy put his foot down, then recrossed his legs. There went the other foot, fidgeting with the rapidity of a bird’s wing. “Maybe.”
“No maybes, either. Maybes can get you killed.”
Pam watched their exchange with interest. Andy listened to her father in a way he listened to no one else. Despite the inconvenience of the upcoming sleeping arrangements, having Will in the house could benefit Andy.
The other patient’s visitors departed, leaving only the incongruous sound of canned laughter from his TV. A nurse parted the curtain and excusing the interruption, began taking Will’s vitals. Pam watched the blood pressure gauge, a tremor of fear eroding her composure. When the nurse finished, she smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid visiting hours are over.”
Pam’s stomach lurched. She couldn’t think about tomorrow’s “what if’s.” She approached the head of the bed and picked up her father’s work-roughened hand. “I talked with Barbara today. She sends her love.” Pam didn’t add that Barbara had actually thanked her for taking care of their father. Maybe there was hope for the two of them. “Rest well, Daddy. I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Don’t you worry, girl. No busted knee’s gonna keep me out of action, hear?”
Andy levered himself out of the chair and stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. “G’night, Gramps. Good luck.”
“At least you didn’t say, like Pammy always used to, ‘Break a leg.’” He chortled at his own joke. “Now, get on out of here.”
Pam picked up her purse and Andy started for the door.
“Son?”
Andy turned to face the old man. “Yeah?”
“Remember what I said. A fella always has to be responsible. If he’s a man.”
Pam averted her face before she alarmed Andy with the tears that threatened. Will Carver was a good man. And an extraordinary father.
And now, grandfather.
BOTH GRANT AND ANDY INSISTED on being with her at the hospital the next morning. Their welcome company helped keep her mind off the cold well of fear building inside her. Will had been both father and mother to her, and the thought of losing him was too hard to contemplate.
After what seemed an interminable wait, she crumpled with relief when the surgeon appeared to inform them Will had come through the procedure beautifully. When a nurse escorted her into the recovery room, her dad managed a smile, squeezed her hand and then drifted off.
Pam intended to spend the day at the hospital, but urged Grant and Andy to return to school. For all their good intentions, neither was comfortable in the hospital setting nor was there anything for them to do. By late afternoon, Will had been transferred to a regular room, tired but glad to have the ordeal behind him, and they’d both talked with Barbara, assuring her all was well. When Will noticed Pam’s eyes drooping, he mustered his strength and urged her to go home. “Nothin’ you can do here, ’cept leave me in peace.”
It had been a long day, she reflected on the drive home, marked by worry, boredom and relief. A warm cup of soup and her own bed sounded divine. Traffic was heavy and the late afternoon sun was in her eyes, so she exited the interstate and wound her way home, taking an unfamiliar route through her neighborhood. Stopping at a light, she recognized the park on the other side of the street. Not too far now. She fiddled with the volume control on the radio, then accelerated slowly through the intersection. Suddenly a dog darted in front of her. Braking, she watched it lope over the curb and off across the grassy area near the basketball court.
Then she saw it. A bicycle that looked like Andy’s. A car eased up behind her. The driver gently tapped her horn. Pam collected herself, gave an apologetic wave and pulled over to the curb. What could Andy be doing here? It was nearly dark.
She got out of the car, buttoned her jacket and started walking toward the bike. That’s when she heard grunts, shouts and the unmistakable words, “Gilbert, my man, awesome shot!”
She headed for the basketball court shielded by a stand of trees. Pausing there, she watched the pickup game in amazement. A couple of smaller, quick-handed boys and several taller ones were involved in a noholds-barred contest. Bumping, leaping, dribbling, shooting with authority toward the basket. She watched for several minutes, her heart pounding.
They were good. Very good.
But the best was Andy, his eyes darting around the court, his jaw clenched in determination.
So this was where he mysteriously disappeared to. Grant clearly had no idea. Equally clear was the fact Andy didn’t want him to know. What was she supposed to do about this? How could Grant not know his son was this talented? How devastated would he be to realize Andy couldn’t share this with him?
“Pam?” Andy had seen her. The action on the court stopped abruptly, the lone sound a ball being idly bounced by a tall African-American youth who stood with the others in a huddle, watching Andy approach her. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way home from the hospital when I saw your bike.”
“Crap!” He stood in front of her, eyes directed skyward as if imploring the heavens. Then in a gesture uncannily like his father’s, he ran a hand jerkily through his hair. “This is all I need.”
“What?”
“For you to tell my old man about this.” He turned away. “Jeez!”
She stepped forward, knowing that what she said right now was crucial. “I haven’t decided to do anything. Yet.”
He slowly pivoted to face her, regarding her with stony eyes. “I don’t want him to know.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
What was her obligation here? Would it hurt to keep his secret? “I’ll have to think about it, Andy.”
“You said we could trust you to keep our confidences,” he blurted out.
“In your journals.”
“But no place else? Is that it?” The boy’s voice was raw.
She laid a hand on his arm. “You’ve put me in a difficult position, Andy, but I’ll tell you what. I won’t say anything for now.” His head drooped in relief. “But you and I are going to talk about this later.”
He straightened and studied her warily. “How do I know I can trust you?”
She looked straight into his eyes. “Because I say so.”
He held her gaze, then finally glanced at his bike. “I gotta go.”
“I know. See you at home.” She watched him walk toward his bike and, under her breath, added, “Please be careful.”
She, too, would have to be careful. There was a delicate balance between keeping his trust and violating Grant’s.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Pam cleared off her desk, erased the chalkboard and grabbed the ungraded vocabulary quizzes. Maybe she could get to them while she visited with her father.
She checked her watch. Twenty minutes to drop Andy at home, then off to the hospital. When she leaned over to retrieve her purse from the bottom desk drawer, she heard a thump, like a dropped backpack. Looking up, she saw Andy standing a few feet from her. “You startled me,” she said.
“Sorry.” He made no move to leave. His hands were stuffed in his front pockets and she could hear the jingle of coin hitting against coin.
“Ready to go?” When he still made no move, she felt a tic of annoyance. “What is it, Andy?”
He jutted out his chin. “Did you tell him?”
“No, I didn’t. Not yet.”
“Are you gonna?”
“I don’t know. It depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you can figure out why you’re so determined to punish yourself.”
His face colored. “What are you talking about?”
“You love basketball, don’t you?”
“What’s the difference?”
Setting her purse on the desk, she summoned her patience. “The difference is that you’re denying yourself pleasure and accomplishment out of some misplaced notion of revenge.”
“That’s crap.” The coin-jangling grew louder.
“Is it? I think you’ve been blaming your father all these years for the divorce. Let me ask you something. Do you honestly think your parents would have been happy had they stayed together?”
He shrugged without looking up.
“Or that your father wanted to leave you? Walking out that door was probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. Like you, he’s been hurting every day since.” Her voice softened. “Can’t you give him a break?”
“Why should I?”
Sighing in exasperation, she moved closer, settling her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Darn it, Andy, why are you so hell-bent on turning your back on love?”
“Love?” He mocked the word. “Who gives a shit?”
Her eyes held his. “You do.”
He wheeled away, picking up the backpack he’d dropped by the door. She grabbed her purse and followed him down the hall. When she caught up with him, he glared at her. “So you’re gonna tell him, right?”
“No, I’m not.” Before he could react in relief, she hurried on. “You are. Just don’t wait too long.”
All the way home not a further word was spoken.
GRANT FELT like a pack mule, schlepping stuff up to the guest bedroom he and Pam would now share. He nearly tripped over the top step wondering how he was going to manage to keep his hands off her. And more importantly, how they were going to fool Will Carver into believing they were in love.
Before Will was released from the hospital, Grant needed to grade his finals and get the Christmas tree up. Then there was the shopping. He and Pam were giving Andy a laptop, so that when he returned to his mother, he could take it with him. Grant mentally counted the months. Only eight and a half left. He felt like a failure as a father. Heck, maybe he was.
He heaved the armload of clothes onto the guest-room bed. He needed a special Christmas gift for Pam. But what?
She and Andy were way ahead of him. Yesterday they’d gone to the mall. When they’d gotten home, Andy had volunteered nothing about their shopping excursion. When Grant had inquired of Pam, she’d merely smiled wisely and said, “Did you tell your father everything when you were fifteen?”
Sure, the kid had a right to privacy, but Grant felt totally out of the loop. Maybe he and Andy would have been forced to get along if Pam hadn’t moved in.
But he couldn’t imagine his home without her.
And now she was going to be in his bed. Every night.
He groaned in frustration just thinking about the self-control that would require.
“YOU DANG WELL DON’T have to give up your bedroom, kids.” Will eased down onto the straight chair, his left leg extended, then propped his crutches in the corner of the living room.
“We’ll manage,” Pam said, wondering how.
“It won’t be forever.” Grant set Will’s overnight bag in the hall, then eyed the staircase. “You don’t really want to be confined upstairs, do you?”
“Heck, I can get up and down the steps.”
“Dad—”
Will held his palms up in surrender. “I know, honey. Slow and easy.” He looked around the room. “It’s nice to be out of the hospital. Pretty tree,” he said, gesturing to the six-foot Scotch pine in the corner. “Sorry I couldn’t do much in the way of presents. But there are a few things I left in the trunk of my car before I went to the hospital.”
“We’ll bring them in later,” Grant said.
“I’m glad the boy’ll be here with us for Christmas. Nothin’ like a kid around to make the holiday.” His eyes twinkled. “And next year, just think. Gilbert Junior.”
Pam turned her back, pretending to adjust a tree ornament. Next year’s Christmas would be vastly different. No Andy. No Grant. No cozy little family. Steadying her voice, she answered. “It could be a girl, you know.”
“That’d be all right. Reckon I know a thing or two about female critters.”
Pam trusted herself to face him. “That you do, Daddy.” She crossed to him and laid a kiss on the top of his head. “Now, how about some lunch and then a nice long nap?”
“I am kinda tired. Sounds good.”
Settling him in front of the TV, Pam busied herself in the kitchen, heating some soup and grilling cheese sandwiches.
When Grant came through the kitchen carrying several wrapped packages, he paused. “How do you think he’s doing?”
Pam shrugged. “Okay, I guess. But he seems pretty weak.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.” He started to leave, but then stopped. “I think I’ll sleep in the den these first few nights. To be right there if he needs help.”
Pam noticed he couldn’t quite bring himself to look directly at her. Nor did she want him to. She picked up a spatula and flipped the sandwiches. “That’s a good idea,” she said not trusting her emotions. “Thank you.”
So. She had a reprieve. A few more nights sleeping alone. But the questions remained. Was Grant merely being solicitous of her father or delaying the inevitable? Was he as nervous as she was about what might happen when they shared a bed night after night?
Housekeeper. Think housekeeper.
CHRISTMAS MORNING. The turkey was in the oven, the table set, hot cider simmered on the stove. Satisfied, Pam surveyed the tree where Viola and Sebastian playfully pawed at the ornaments and colorful ribbons. Grant was helping Will shave. Once they were finished, she’d wake Andy if he hadn’t yet emerged.
He’d been all nervous excitement yesterday after delivering to Angela the delicate gold locket Pam had helped him select and returning with a boxed set of CDs he’d been wanting.
He stumbled down the stairs, rubbing his eyes, just as Grant helped Will into the living room. The older man greeted them exuberantly. “Merry Christmas, everybody.”
“Yeah, Merry Christmas.” Andy stood at the base of the stairs in his bare feet. “Anything to eat?”
After Pam served him a banana and warm cinnamon roll, they gathered around the tree, soft Christmas music playing in the background. Pam fought a pang of wistfulness. The scene appeared so festive, so homey.
Andy seemed tickled with his laptop, and the sweater she’d bought Grant turned out to be exactly the shade of his blue eyes, just as she’d hoped. Everything was greeting-card perfect until Andy opened his present from Will.
“Gramps, you’re the greatest!” Andy’s face was as animated as she’d ever seen it. “Wow!” He handed around the lettered certificate inside the box. “This entitles Andy Gilbert to one hand-tooled leather saddle and a half interest in Sagebrush Pepper Boy.”
Pam watched the spectacle in disbelief.
“Now, I know, you’ll be living with your mother some. But I reckon when you visit your family here, you’ll be comin’ to the ranch. A fella’s gotta have his own mount.”
Grant, his lips thinned in a grim line, caught her eye. She slowly lifted her shoulders in bewilderment. She’d known nothing of her father’s intentions.
Then Will pointed to a package wrapped in red foil. “Get that for Pam, would you, Andy?”
She examined the card, then looked up, confused.
“You’re seein’ it right. Barbara sent it. Asked me to give it to you.”
She and Barbara hadn’t exchanged gifts since Barbara had left home immediately after her high school graduation. They’d talked briefly on the phone several times following Will’s surgery, but…why in the world would her sister suddenly be giving her a Christmas present?
With trembling fingers, Pam opened the card and read the brief message. “My children used this. Now that you’re having a baby, I suppose Mother would’ve wanted you to have it. Barbara. P.S. I hope all goes well for you with your pregnancy.” Silently she handed the card to her father.
“Reserve judgment till you see what it is, honey. I think maybe Barbara’s trying.”
Pam slid her hand under the slick paper and slowly pulled it off. All she had to do was lift the lid of the box. But it suddenly seemed too much. She sensed the eyes of the men on her and knew she couldn’t delay further. She removed the lid and parted the layers of tissue paper.
Lying in the box was something she hadn’t seen since she was a tiny girl, but which was, nevertheless, comfortingly familiar.
“What is it?” Andy asked impatiently.
She gathered the pink-and-blue quilt against her breast and said with tear-filled eyes, “It’s the baby quilt my mother made for my sister and me. See?” She pointed to the embroidered “LC” in the corner. “Lillian Carver.”
Grant looked at Will, then at Pam. “That’s quite a gift.”
“I know,” she said, holding it against her where Barney lay quietly at rest. She took back the card from her father and studied it. I hope all goes well for you with your pregnancy. Could it be? Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t resentment that had held Barbara in its grip. Maybe it was fear. Fear of loving and losing someone else as she’d lost her mother.
In that instant, Pam made a decision. It couldn’t hurt, could it, to invite Barbara to come help after the baby came? And it might make all the difference.
Just when she thought Christmas couldn’t get any better, Grant nodded to Andy, who disappeared toward the garage. “Andy and I have a little something for you, too,” Grant said.
Pam could hear Andy banging through the kitchen, clearly carrying something large. An elfin helper couldn’t have looked any more pleased with himself than did her tall, beaming stepson when he entered the room bearing an exquisite wooden cradle and a huge flat package.
Happiness flooded through her. She turned from one to the other. “Grant, Andy, I’m overwhelmed.” She walked over to the cradle and crouched beside it, imagining her child rocking to sleep. She rubbed her fingers along the maple wood. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Just beautiful.”
Andy bounced on his heels. “Do you like it?”
The two men exploded in laughter. “That’s what the woman said, son,” Gramps shifted in his chair. “You came up with a winner.”
“What’s this?” Pam lifted the large package from the cradle. “It’s heavy.”
Grant sat forward expectantly, elbows on his knees. “Open it.”
When she removed the wrapping and saw what it was, she turned to Grant. “A wallpaper sample book?”
“Don’t we need a nursery?”
The reds and greens and yellows of the Christmas tree lights blurred in front of her.
“I thought we could fix up the spare bedroom,” Grant continued. “But I wanted you to pick out the paper, the color scheme. You’re the decorator, not me.”
“You can say that again,” Andy added.
She turned from the cradle and gazed at this warm, generous, thoughtful man. Realizing that Andy and Will were anticipating some kind of reaction, she knelt in front of Grant and took his hands in hers. “Thank you,” she breathed before leaning forward and kissing him tenderly.
When she pulled back, he squeezed her hands. “You’re welcome.” Time seemed to stop. No matinee idol had ever looked at his leading lady with such intensity. “There’s one thing more,” he said, clearing his throat.
“There can’t be. You’re spoiling me.”
“Oh, but there is.” He winked at Andy. “While you’re at it, for God’s sake, pick out some paper to replace that abomination in the kitchen.”
ANDY HAULED HIS LOOT up to his bedroom. The laptop was way cool, and he couldn’t wait to start the Anne Rice vampire books Pam had given him.
But the best was Gramps’s gift. It would be great to see Pepper again, even if a ride meant he’d have a monumentally sore butt. And his own saddle—that was really something. He’d bet not too many of the Keystone kids had their own—what had Gramps called it?—yeah, their own “mount.”
But then there was the package from his mother and Harry. He peered warily into the box as if it contained a nest of vipers. Jeez, how could Mom think he’d wear those smarmy Italian silk shirts or those skintight pants with the buttons? They might be okay in the Mediterranean, but in Texas? He’d be laughed off the streets. Or called names he didn’t want to think about.
He supposed his mother would phone sometime today. She’d want him to gush about the new clothes. Why couldn’t she have sent him the boom box he’d asked for? But that was just like her. She always thought she knew what was best for him.
Well, it hadn’t been best to keep him from spending summers with his dad, now had it? Of course, Pam and Gramps wouldn’t have been there then, so maybe it would’ve been different. Worse?
But it had been kinda fun going with his dad to shop for the cradle. At first it had felt weird to be in that big baby store. Cripes, how much stuff could one little kid need? The cradle they picked out was one of the most expensive, but like Dad said, “Pam’s worth it.” Then they’d gone to eat Mexican food, and on the way home, Dad had actually let him drive. It had been a really okay day.
How many more might he have had if his parents had just asked him what he wanted to do in the summers? Was that too difficult a concept?
But at least he had this year. And it was getting better and better. He and Gramps had plans to watch a bunch of old cowboy movies. Stuff like Shane and High Noon. He and Angie were getting along great and he even thought he’d done all right on his exams.
And Pam hadn’t told about the basketball.
But she expected him to. When he was ready.
He dumped the box of pretty-boy clothes in the back of his closet and shut the door. He reviewed again the great Christmas morning. One of the best ever. But he still felt nervous, anxious.
He wasn’t ready to tell his dad. Not yet.
THE DAYS IMMEDIATELY AFTER Christmas fell into a comfortable routine. Grant worked on some house repairs, set up his course outlines for second semester and spent early afternoons conducting short practices with his team.
Will was making a valiant effort with his therapy and bending over backward not to be any trouble. Grant was glad he’d decided to sleep in the den. Twice he’d caught the old man trying to get to the bathroom by himself and had been able to assist him. Will was a trouper and great company, especially for Andy, who might’ve been bored without their movie marathons. Grant was grateful for the mellowing he observed in his son.
Christmas had been a great day—harmonious, sentimental. Vastly different from the perfunctory observances of his past. Yet it had left Grant with an unsatisfied longing. Almost every gift had been a painful reminder that the good times couldn’t last. How would Will feel when the truth came out? Or Andy, whose relationship with Pam and Will was deepening daily?
Betrayed, no doubt.
New Year’s Eve, while Pam and Andy were running errands, Will limped into the kitchen where Grant was fixing the two of them bologna sandwiches for lunch. “Ever try fryin’ that dog meat?” Will asked as he lowered himself into a chair. “It’s mighty good that way.”
Grant smiled at the man’s colorful expression. “I’ll give it a try.” He placed a small skillet on the stove and began heating the bologna.
“That’s one good kid you’ve raised.”
“I wish I could take more of the credit.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s natural for kids to pull away.”
Grant turned down the heat and pulled out a loaf of bread. “I just can’t reach him. It’s almost as if he’s afraid to get close.”
The old man looked up, a gleam in his eye. “Think about it. Remind you of anyone?”
Grant leaned against the counter, pointing the spatula at Will. “You know men almost as well as horses, don’t you?”
Will chuckled. “There’s not much difference.”
Afraid to get close? Grant thought fleetingly about his own father, cold and rigid, then more intently about himself and his son. There wasn’t going to be a pattern here. Not if he could help it.
“Great fried dog,” Will said, after swallowing the first bite of his sandwich. “Pass me some more of that hot mustard.”
Grant savored the fresh bread, the tang of the sauce and the surprisingly rich flavor of the bologna. “It is good.”
“Say,” Will said, pausing to swallow another bite, “there’s one more thing. A man oughta start the new year with his bride, not with his gimpy father-in-law. So tonight, it’s upstairs to bed with you, son.”
The bologna suddenly took on the consistency of rubber. “Tonight?”
“You heard me. You gotta bring in the new year right, know what I mean?” Then Will winked broadly, suggestively, and Grant realized he’d developed a galloping case of pregame jitters.
PAM LAY ON HER BACK, the blanket pulled up to her chin, her eyes following Grant as he moved around the end of the bed to his side. “It feels strange, doesn’t it?” she said.
“I’m trying hard to think about it like Boy Scout camp.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Roughing it, you mean?”
He slid beneath the sheets, aware, with a jump in his pulse rate, that the “bundling” layer was gone. “In a manner of speaking.” He stretched out cautiously, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The light?”
“Oh, yeah.” He rolled onto his side and reached the bedside lamp. The darkness made him uncomfortable. Things could happen in the dark that didn’t happen in the light.
When he lay back down, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. As if she could read his mind, she said, “We’re friends, Grant. We can do this.”
Do what? “You mean get through this with no sex?”
“It’s probably harder for a man.”
You’ve got that right. “We have an agreement. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Well, we’ve got Barney on our side. It can’t be too appealing to be in the same bed with a butterball.”
If you only knew. “Are you comfortable enough? I could go back down—”
“Grant, we’ll have to sleep together sometime. We may as well start now. When Dad goes home, then we can go back downstairs.”
Roses. Damn. The whole bed smelled of her. “Yeah.” He couldn’t continue this conversation, not if he didn’t want to develop a bigger hard-on than he already had. “Have you completed all your grading?”
She withdrew her hand and seemed to stiffen beside him. “Yes.”
“And averaged your semester grades?”
“I finished this evening.”
“So?”
“What?”
“What about Beau? Did he pass?”
In the silence, he found himself counting the individual ticks of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Finally she answered. “No, Grant, he didn’t.”
Faster than he could mark F on a report card, his attention turned from sex to basketball. This was a disaster. “Are you sure? Can’t you do something?” She turned her head, and in the light from the streetlamp, he could see her one eyebrow raised. “No,” he said, expelling a deep breath, “I guess you can’t.”
At midnight he was still awake, marveling that there were revelers all over Fort Worth celebrating the new year with hope and promise, while all he could think of was that stupid line from “Casey at the Bat.” There was definitely no joy in his Mudville this night.