FRIDAY NIGHT, Ria finished her virtuous solo dinner of salad with chicken strips, looked in the snack cupboard and decided against dessert, and headed into the TV room. What should she do with a night to herself?
The girls had told her about their evening plans only this afternoon. Kaitlyn was sleeping over at Sunny’s place, and Sophia was going to a party at a girlfriend’s that might turn into a sleepover.
Usually, one or the other of them was home in the evening. And it was usually Kaitlyn. Ria tried not to plan activities for herself when she knew Kait would be home, because there was a chance Kait would need to talk, would get hungry, would in some way need her mom.
It was actually a very good sign that she didn’t need Ria quite as much in the past couple of weeks. Her counseling sessions seemed to be helping, even the family ones she claimed to hate. More important, she was finally starting to make friends. Wednesday after school, both Bisky’s daughter, Sunny, and a girl from the behavior support class, Venus, had come over to hang out with Kaitlyn, and Ria had nearly jumped for joy when she’d heard the three of them laughing and playing music and talking a mile a minute. Venus and Sunny had ended up staying for dinner, and they were both lovely girls—strong, independent, exactly right for Kait.
Ria felt guardedly optimistic about Kait’s state of mind. She just needed to get better at figuring out what to do with herself when she had a night at home alone.
She was flipping channels when the doorbell rang.
Dark had fallen, and she wasn’t expecting anyone, so she peeked out the venetian blinds. Her heart leaped and she hurried toward the door but stopped herself halfway there. She took a slow, calming breath, then walked the rest of the way to the front door at a leisurely pace and opened it.
“Hi, Drew,” she said with at least a semblance of calm in her voice. “Hi, Navy. You came to see me, did you?”
Navy wagged her tail hard and panted.
Drew held up his toolbox, eyebrow raised. “Heard you had a slow drain, ma’am?”
He was joking around like he used to do long ago, and hearing the fun in his voice did something to her. She held the door open. “Come on in,” she said. “Sounds like the girls have been complaining.”
He smiled. “Easier to complain to Dad than to figure out how to give you a hand themselves,” he said. “And I hope you don’t mind that I brought Navy along. She’s been doing better, but I want her to have as much exercise and attention as possible. Plus, she looked all sad when I started to leave without her.”
“And you’re a soft touch.” Had the girls told Drew about her need for handyman help to get him to come over? Were they trying to push the two of them back together?
No matter. She welcomed his presence for all kinds of reasons she didn’t feel like examining. “The slow drain is just the tip of the iceberg, if you’re serious.”
He came in, slipped off his coat and hung it at the end of the banister before she could take it from him. Then he kicked off his work boots. “I’m serious about helping you with repairs,” he said, “but you’ll have to be my partner.”
I want to be your partner. “Sure,” she said, trying to get used to the fact that he’d come over. What did it mean? Why had he come, really? “Would you like something to drink?”
“Not now,” he said. “Maybe later.”
Wait—he was planning to be here later? Ria’s body flushed warm. “It’s the drain in the main bathroom,” she said, going for a businesslike tone. “I’m sure it’s clogged because of all our hair, but I can’t get the stopper out to clean it out.”
“Uh-huh. You have to disconnect the pivot rod underneath.”
“Oh... Never heard of that, but I believe you.” She led the way to the bathroom, Navy tagging along behind, and opened the cupboard beneath the sink. “Just wait a sec while I clean out all the stuff under here.”
She grabbed bottles of shampoo and stacks of rags and set it all down beside the bathtub. “Okay, it’s empty. Do you do this or do I?”
“Let me see if I can do it by feel.” He knelt and felt around the pipes, then lay down on his back so he could reach in. “Hand me my pliers, will you?”
She did, and flashed back to when they’d first been married, living in a tiny fixer-upper in Baltimore. This was how they’d spent a lot of Friday nights, working on the house. Usually, Drew did most of the work and she was his helper, grabbing rags or wrenches, cleaning up spatters of paint.
It had brought them close together, and usually those nights had ended up passionate. She flushed, remembering.
“Can’t find those pliers?” he asked.
She forced her mind back to the present. Rummaged in his toolbox, found a small pair of pliers and handed them to him.
He worked at whatever he was unscrewing for a few minutes, his muscles stretching the sleeves of his shirt.
Ria rubbed damp hands down the sides of her jeans and then clenched them into fists. She wanted to move closer, be closer, and there was a part of her that felt it was her right. In many ways, she still felt like his wife.
She also had the feeling he wouldn’t mind.
“Got it. Let me slide the pivot rod through and... There. Try pulling up the drain stopper.”
She did, and it came up immediately. “Oh, how disgusting,” she said, jolted out of her romantic fantasies. She grabbed a couple of the rags and cleaned off the gunk she could see, then ran for paper towels and a chopstick to swab out the inside of the drain.
“Somehow, I’m glad I can’t see what you’re seeing,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the tub to wait for her.
She pulled up clumps of long hair out of the sink drain. “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to deal with the hair of three women all around your house and clogging up your drains?”
He said something under his breath.
“What?” Had he said what she thought he’d said?
“I miss it.”
“Our hair all over the bathroom?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Yeah. I miss everything.”
“Oh...” She let out a breath as she said the word. Her whole chest warmed.
He cleared his throat. “Something else I’ve been wanting to say. I was wrong, pushing you into what we did on the beach all those years ago. It seems like way too little and way too late, but I’m sorry.”
Her hands stilled and she stared at him. “You mean...the first time we...?” Absurd that she couldn’t bring herself to say what they’d done.
“Yeah. I mean, I could never regret having Sophia. But I shouldn’t have pushed like I did. I didn’t get it, how important it is to have, what do the kids call it...”
“Consent?” she asked, amazed he was even aware of the issue. Not that Drew was sexist—he was a true gentleman toward women—but he wasn’t exactly the type of man who listened to NPR.
“Yeah. Consent. I was way too aggressive. A jerk.”
“You may not remember,” she said, “but you definitely had consent.” She swallowed as memories of his hands, his scent, his male intensity, came back to her. She’d never experienced anything like it before, and it had shocked and overwhelmed her. And she’d loved it. “I was all in,” she said.
“I thought so, but... I’ve always felt bad.”
“Water under the bridge, anyway.”
“Well, but it’s not, because it colored everything that came after. You felt like you had to marry me, like you didn’t have a choice.”
“You felt the same,” she pointed out. “You felt obligated, too. Were you ready to get married at that point?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. “But I wanted to anyway. Done with that drain?”
“Uh-huh.” She watched while he slid under the sink again, instructed her how to lower the drain plug and rehooked up whatever needed hooking up down there.
She couldn’t believe he’d brought up the circumstances of their rapid marriage. In all their years together, they’d barely talked about it. Drew had never been a big communicator, and she hadn’t either, she guessed. She’d always felt lucky to be his wife, but also like she wasn’t entitled to the honor, like she’d gotten it unfairly. That hadn’t been something she’d known how to put into words.
He stood up and washed his hands at the sink, then turned in her direction. “Next?”
She felt her lips curve into a smile, unable to tame down her delight that he wanted to spend more time with her, to help her. “Well...if you’re sure, I bought some weather stripping to try to stop the breeze from blowing through the dining room windows, but I got the nail-on kind and I don’t know how to put it up.”
“Lead on,” he said and followed her to the dining room.
“Sit down,” she said. “You can have a beer while I find the materials.” She handed him a bottle, her face flushing a little when she realized she’d bought his favorite brand at the store last week. Had she been subconsciously planning to have him over? Should she dig up something else for him to drink so he wouldn’t know that?
In the end, she opened his favorite beer, set it in front of him and hurried off to get the weather stripping.
By the time she got back and explained to him what she’d bought, she’d cooled down a little. She listened to his explanation, cut the weather stripping to size, then held it while he nailed it in place.
“What we were talking about before,” she said, picking up the conversation where they’d left off. It was a knack most married people had, she supposed—keeping a conversation going all day, in between the chores of daily life. “Your parents always acted like I trapped you into marriage.”
“Maybe they felt that way at first.” He whacked the last nail into place. “But they realized pretty quickly that it was a trap I entered willingly. And then you gave them grandchildren—probably the only ones they’ll have.”
Ria felt a pang, thinking of the miscarriage. They’d be heartbroken if they knew.
So would Drew.
“Pretty quickly, my folks came to love you.”
She smiled. “I love them, too, especially your mom. I miss seeing and hearing about them.”
He leaned back against the wall and raised an eyebrow. “Want to hear about Dad’s visit Wednesday, and how he got drunk and had to stay over?”
She stared. Drew’s dad wasn’t normally a big drinker. “He did?”
Drew nodded. “We went to Tiny’s, down at the waterfront, and I had a hard time getting him back to my place. He was stumbling all over.”
Ria sank down on the edge of a chair. “I’ve only seen him a little tipsy, and that was on holidays. Was something wrong?”
Drew’s handsome face went serious. “Yeah. He’s upset because Stevie told Mom he’s gay.”
Ria nodded, thinking of Drew’s youngest brother. “Yeah. I figured.”
Drew’s face jerked toward her. “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ria let out a snort. “Because I didn’t think you could handle it, of course!”
“Really? I’m not like that.” His forehead wrinkled. “Am I?”
Ria shrugged. “You were always pretty invested in how macho you Martin men were. Not that a gay guy can’t be macho. If anyone can, it’s Stevie.”
“Yeah.” Drew shook his head. “Apparently he has a boyfriend.”
“Oh, that’s great!” She’d always thought Stevie seemed lonely. “Are your folks...? Does your dad accept it at all?”
“I’m sure Mom’s fine. Dad...well, he wanted me to talk to Stevie and, quote, straighten him out.” He chuckled. “I told him it didn’t work like that and that he should ask Stevie and his partner to dinner.”
“Good for you.” Ria couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. She’d never have accused Drew of outright homophobia, but she’d also never have guessed he’d be quick to accept a gay brother. “Do you think he’ll do it?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to picture.”
“Hey, you know what?” Ria smiled as an idea took shape in her head. “We could invite them to dinner here, and have your folks over, too.” And then she flushed. It wasn’t like they were married, that they should be hosting his family together.
But being here at the house, talking in this twilight setting, she felt like they were married. Only better, because Drew was changing. He seemed easier to talk to, somehow. A little warmer.
“Yeah. I’d like to see Stevie, meet his partner.” He spoke slowly, like he was thinking it through as he talked. “Stevie’s family, and I should make more of an effort to understand him.”
“He’d like that. He’s always looked up to you so much.”
“Really?” He looked in her direction, shaking his head. “You saw a lot of things I didn’t.” It looked like he was going to say more, but then he straightened. “Any more projects?”
“Of course,” she said promptly. When you were a homeowner, there was an endless list of them, and since she had the motel to manage, she rarely had time for repairs in her own actual house. “There’s a sticky drawer in my dresser that’s driving me crazy.”
He smiled. “Are you still using the girls’ old one?”
“Sure am.” He’d always made fun of her for the cartoonish daisies stenciled on it, a look the girls had long outgrown. But she liked how it reminded her of those early, carefree days. “It’s perfectly functional and it would be—”
“A waste to throw it out and get a new one,” he finished in unison with her. “I know, I know.”
“Up the stairs and to the right,” she said. “Banister’s on the left.”
She followed him, trying not to think about the suggestive situation of going upstairs together. Still, by the time they reached the bedroom, she felt a little breathless. Stop it, she told herself and led him directly to the dresser, showing him the drawer in question. “It sticks every time I go to pull it out,” she explained, demonstrating, pleased that her voice sounded normal. “And then again when I push it in.”
His hand was over hers, and when she went to pull away, he grasped it for just a second. She looked at his face, so she saw the slight flush that crossed it. “Do you have some of that canning wax?” he asked. “Or even a candle. That’s all this needs.”
“Um, sure. Let me grab some.” She welcomed the chance to get away from him, to cool down, and yet when she grabbed her box of Gulf Wax, her feet carried her back upstairs rapidly. It was like she couldn’t stand to be away from him when she knew he was in her house.
He’d pulled out the offending drawer. “Okay if I dump your stuff out?” he asked.
“Of course!” She watched while he did it and then put the wax block into his hand. He rubbed it slowly along the drawer slides and then handed it back to her. “Try that.”
She put the drawer back in, and when it slid perfectly, she clapped. “Thank you! That’s going to get rid of a daily annoyance, and the girls will be glad not to hear me complain about it every day.” She piled the clothes back into the drawer while Drew sat on the edge of the bed, patient in a way he’d never been before.
She slid the drawer in and turned and looked at him, instantly flooded with memories of all the good times they’d had in that very bed, the same one they’d had in their first apartment. Frugality and all that.
Driven by feelings she barely understood, she sat down beside him, wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for helping me,” she said, hearing the huskiness in her own voice, drawing in that special Drew-scent from his neck.
He froze.
She went still, too, heat flooding her face. Why had she been so forward? What was she thinking?
But she wasn’t thinking, and that was the problem. She was feeling.
She let her arms fall away and lifted her head. “Sorry. I—”
He wrapped his arms around her, brushed her hair back with a big hand and pressed his lips to hers.
There it was, that male certainty he’d always had, and it intoxicated her as he deepened the kiss. It was Drew, it was the same, and yet it was all new.
He lifted his head and she let out a little sigh of regret, but he was only adjusting her, pulling her into his lap. “Do you like this as much as I do?” he breathed into her neck, punctuating his question with a light nip that shot her heart rate so high she thought she might pass out.
She nodded, because she couldn’t speak.
“Let’s lie down for a little bit,” he said, sliding and tugging until they lay face-to-face. He kissed her nose, her forehead, her cheeks in a reverent, caring way. Then he tugged her close so that they were pressed against each other head to toe, and her insides melted.
They hugged and kissed some more, and then both of them were breathing hard.
His hand went to the bottom of her shirt.
She wanted him to touch her. She wanted her husband to touch her. Because even though legally they’d divorced, neither her body nor her heart had accepted the decree.
His hand slid beneath her shirt to her stomach, and she felt that icky little qualm: he’d feel that her stomach wasn’t flat.
It doesn’t matter. There are all types of bodies.
She didn’t completely believe it, but she was starting to. She leaned in to kiss him, moving her body to allow him access.
Abruptly, he withdrew his hand and pulled away, rolling over to lie flat on his back, breathing hard. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay, Drew.” She felt cold in the places he’d stopped touching.
“No. That’s what got us in trouble the first time.”
It was taking her brain some time to catch up with her body. “Huh?”
“I’m not making love to you again unless we’re married,” he said. “What if you got pregnant again? Which you probably would, knowing how we are together.” He shook his head. “I’d love to have another child with you, even at this late date, but not unless we’re a married couple.”
Every word he said dripped cold reality onto Ria. What if she got pregnant again?
Unbeknownst to him, she had gotten pregnant, the very last time they’d made love.
And then she’d lost the baby through her own negligence.
She rolled away from him and sat up on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths. “You’re right. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have... You should go.”
“Right. Sure.” He sat up, too, adjusted himself and pulled her close for a hard, fast kiss. “But know that I’m thinking about this, Ree. About us.”
She was thinking, too. She was thinking about the secret that stood between them, and wondering if it was time to tell the truth.
THAT SUNDAY NIGHT, in Ria’s kitchen, Drew put his plate away after eating way too much homemade pizza. “You’re an amazing cook,” he said to her.
“Yeah, Mom, you’re an excellent cook when you cook.” Kaitlyn’s tone indicated that she was only half complaining. “She hasn’t made pizza since...since forever,” she added, trailing off.
“Since they got divorced,” Sophia said. She sounded unusually annoyed.
“Well, I appreciate it now.” He reached for Ria’s hand.
The feel of her hand brought their home-repair evening back into his mind, and his body snapped to attention. He really wanted her, and it had taken superhuman effort not to go to full-on seduction. After all, she was his wife.
But she wasn’t. Not anymore. And things needed to be resolved before they took any steps toward a physical relationship.
He realized he was still holding her hand, his thumb rolling over its softness, and dropped it.
“Family game night wouldn’t be right without pizza.” Ria sounded a little breathless.
Kait cleared her throat.
“Family game night is stupid,” Sophia muttered.
Drew caught the awkward vibes and figured they were due to the hand-holding. He and Ria had better not build curiosity into the girls until they had figured this out, figured out if they could possibly get back together, if he could be a decent family man, if Ria even trusted him enough to try.
“Speaking of games,” he said, “bring it. I’m going to crush you guys.”
He remembered all the times they’d played cards or Monopoly as a family. He’d taught the girls to be competitive, not to cry when they lost. They’d had a lot of fun together, talking and laughing, jokingly trash-talking one another. Those were good memories.
“Monopoly or Scrabble?” Ria asked.
“How about...?” He trailed off as a realization slammed into him. He couldn’t play regular board games; he was blind. Without even trying to, he had built an expectation he now was unable to meet. In addition to his own disappointment—because he loved family game night—he felt like a failure.
If he’d have planned in advance, he could have at least pulled out the low-vision playing cards they’d given out in the rehab program.
“I vote for Scrabble. Let’s play Scrabble,” Kait said. Her voice had risen to the same tone she’d had as a younger child.
“Dad can’t play Scrabble, dummy.” Sophia’s voice was sharp.
“Oh ye of little faith.” He heard Ria push back her chair, and he tipped his head back to see the blur of her walking over to the shelf and pulling something off.
“Check this out.” She sounded triumphant as she thumped a box down onto the table.
There was a pause while the girls studied the box.
Then: “Braille Scrabble?” Kait said.
“Dad can’t read braille.” That was Sophia again.
“Hey, I’m trying to learn a little.” He reached for his older daughter’s arm and gave it a squeeze. She wasn’t herself tonight.
“It’s not just braille,” Ria explained, opening the box and pulling out the pieces, handing them around. “There’s braille writing on each piece, but there are also raised letters you can trace. They’re printed large, for people who have some vision. But here’s the really cool thing.” She pulled something else out and thumped it onto the table, too. “It’s a Scrabble board with a grid, so the letters don’t get knocked out of place as easily.”
“So it’s tailor-made for klutzy Kait.” Sophia gave a little laugh.
He heard the sound of a light slap. “Shut up. So I knocked the board over a couple of times. I was little.”
Drew ran his hands over the raised grid of the Scrabble board. He felt notations in certain squares. As the way it worked dawned on him, he felt a grin spread across his face. “So this is a triple word score,” he said, touching one square, “and this is a double word score, right?”
“You got it,” Ria said. “He’s not even going to have much of a learning curve here, girls. We’re doomed.”
As he heard her joking tone and ran his fingers over the Scrabble tiles with their raised letters and braille cues—maybe he could develop his braille skills a little from using them—Drew’s heart swelled with a different kind of love for Ria. He’d never stopped loving her as the mother of his children, and the moment he’d come to Pleasant Shores, he’d realized he was still attracted to her.
But this was something different. That she had anticipated the issue with his blindness and taken the time, had the foresight, to order their family’s favorite game in a format he could still use... That was true thoughtfulness. Ria didn’t call attention to her own quiet acts of kindness. It was just part of who she was.
Love for her swelled his heart.
They started to play. Drew was slow at first, but he got the hang of feeling the letters and visualizing word possibilities in his mind pretty quickly. The first time he was able to form a thirty-point word using a triple word block, he pumped his arm in the air. “Yes!” he crowed. “Step aside, ladies. The Scrabble King is back.”
“You’ve just been dethroned.” Kait was clicking tiles onto the board, and both Ria and Sophia groaned. Kaitlyn took his hand and showed him what she had built right beside him, raising her points above his.
Ria got a call from the motel—an employee had called in sick, so she’d have to take over the late shift in a couple of hours. Then Kaitlyn got a call from Venus and a text from Sunny. “We need to put these phones away,” Ria said, and Kaitlyn agreed, and they both tossed their phones in a basket Ria kept in the dining room for that purpose.
And then they were all just laughing and competing, and he felt like Ria was flirting with him a little bit, which warmed him, opened up possibilities.
Kait was involved in the game and happy, and he spontaneously reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re doing better, kiddo,” he said.
“Don’t think you can soften me like that,” she joked, but she squeezed his hand back, showing him that she understood what he had meant.
He’d missed being surrounded by the laughter and chatter of his family. He wanted it back.
But there was something missing: the sound of Sophia’s voice. Usually, she was as enthusiastic as the rest of them, but she’d been quiet tonight. Too quiet. Cranky and sad sounding when she did speak.
He reached for her hand. “What’s wrong, Sophia?”
She didn’t answer, but he heard her suck in a hitched, broken breath. Something wet dropped onto their clasped hands.
“Hey, you’re crying,” Kait said.
Ria put her hand on top of Sophia’s and Drew’s. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Yeah, it’s great that Kait is all better,” she said, her voice bitter. “But...”
“But what?” Ria asked. “What’s making you so upset, sweetie?”
“I...I think...” She broke off. “I can’t even say it.”
“What is it?” Drew could hear the fear and worry in her voice, and his lighthearted mood drained away, replaced by concern. “You can tell us.”
“I think...I’m pregnant.”
“What?” Ria said. “Are you sure? How late are you?”
“I took a pregnancy test.” Sophia blew her nose. “So I guess I’m sure.”
“You’re kidding me,” Kaitlyn said. “I thought... Never mind.”
Rage and fear warred in Drew’s chest, making it hard to speak. Hard to even breathe. Finally, accompanied by the sound of Sophia’s quiet sobs, he got the words out: “Who did that to you?”
“Yeah, Soph. Who was it?” Kaitlyn asked.
They were all quiet, waiting for her answer.
Finally, she spoke. “I can’t say.”
“Honey, you have to say!” That was Ria, her voice choked.
Grasping Sophia’s shoulder with one hand, Drew reached his other hand across the table and found Kaitlyn’s arm. He wanted to hold on to all of them. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he promised.
“That’s not going to fix anything, Dad!” Kaitlyn said.
“I’m not some mystery to solve!” There was the sound of Sophia’s chair pushing back, then footsteps rushing out of the room and up the stairs.
Drew pulled in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to think. Don’t use your impulses. Use your training. It had been drilled into him during police academy, and the concept had never let him down.
Though it was his immediate impulse, seeking revenge on whoever had gotten Sophia pregnant wasn’t what he should do. Especially since he didn’t know the whole story.
A thought rocked him: he was once that young person who’d gotten a girl pregnant without benefit of marriage. All of a sudden, he could see why Ria’s dad had hated him.
Ria was crying, and when Drew pushed back his chair and walked over to try to comfort her, he realized that Kaitlyn had gotten there first. She stood behind Ria’s seated form, her arms wrapped around her mother. “We’ll be okay, Mom. She’ll be okay.”
Drew closed his eyes. He was changing, changing from his dad’s approach to things, but the trouble was, he had no idea how to deal with his daughter’s pregnancy if he wasn’t going to act like a caveman dad. “What do we do?” he asked the huddled forms of Kait and Ria.
“You stay with Mom. I’ll talk to her.” Kait put his hands on Ria and then turned away.
“Kait—are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Better than you two.” She patted him on the arm. “I’ll make sure she’s okay. Give me a few minutes with her.”
“All right,” he said, “but we’ll be up. We need to have a talk.”
“Okay,” Kaitlyn said, and her footsteps raced across the dining room and up the stairs.
In the midst of his distress, he was proud that Kait was a sensible, loving girl. But this had to be killing Ria. He could hear her breathing hard, and when he reached out to touch her face, it was drenched with tears.
Tugging over a chair, he sat down heavily beside Ria, put an arm around her and pulled her to him. It was a mark of how upset she was that she allowed him to hold her.
He wasn’t crying on the outside, but inside was a different story. Sophia. His sweet young daughter, only seventeen now, so vulnerable. “We didn’t pay her enough attention, with all of Kait’s problems,” he said, guilt and regret rising up inside him.
Ria nodded against his chest, still crying.
“We’ll find a way to help her,” he promised.
They’d made a mistake, but they were going to fix it. Somehow, together, they were going to help Sophia cope with this devastating change to her life.