Gabe couldn’t stand it any longer. Why wouldn’t Faith answer the door? Was she seriously ill?
Fear drove him to return to her house and try the doors. Thankfully, the front door wasn’t locked. He knocked lightly as he opened it.
No sound. No lights.
But a heap lay on the couch.
“Faith?” He nearly strangled on her name as he ate up the room in three strides, then braked to a halt at her side.
She turned to look up at him. “Gabe?”
His eyes fell shut. Knees went limp. Some cop he was.
“Thank God you’re okay.” He flipped on a lamp. “Oh, man, you look horrible.”
Instead of the laugh and “Gee, thanks” he expected, she stared at him, forlorn.
“Rough time, huh?” He held up a bag from the pharmacy. “Natalie called me. I brought sinus medicine, flu medicine, pain relief, saltines and ginger ale. Choose your treatment.”
“Ben’s not coming.”
The jolt of three simple words knocked him back a step.
She huddled up once again. “Thanks for worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”
The sight of her tucked under that blanket, back curved so pitifully, made him ache for her.
He tossed the bag onto a chair, and then he lifted her so he could scoot in under her. He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t cry. Just sat there weak as a kitten. A kitten who’d taken a beating. His own chest ached as if someone had wrenched his heart. Why, Lord? Why, when this was the one thing she needed?
He didn’t know how long they sat like that. But after a bit, she snuggled against him as if letting go of some of the tension. But still no tears.
He brushed her hair away from her face. “How’d you find out?”
“Walt called. Ben’s team won the tournament. They’re going to another in Florida. With college and pro scouts.”
“That’s good for Ben, I guess.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. I’m probably being selfish.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just disappointed.” What could he say? Nothing would make it better. Not when the one thing she’d looked so forward to had been pulled out from under her. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head at how useless platitudes were.
“Can you let people know he’s not coming? I just can’t face the questions.”
“Sure. Don’t worry about it.”
She worked her hand out of the blanket and took hold of his hand. She gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
He wanted more than that, though. It went against all logic, and he had no idea what, if anything, he could do about it. But a quiet hum sang through his body and to the tips of his fingers as he knew, without a doubt, that he wanted more than friendship with Faith Hagin.
He brushed the hair behind her ear. Lifted her chin.
She looked into his eyes, and the bleakness there stopped him in his tracks.
Wrong time. She was too hurt. Too vulnerable.
So he pulled her to him once again, cradling her face to his chest. “We’ll figure this out. Surely you can spend some time with your son somehow.”
Her bone-weary sigh tickled his chest. “I’m driving down to see him briefly tomorrow before he leaves for Florida.”
Anger at the bad timing of the tournament made him grit his teeth, even though he knew this was ultimately a positive thing for Ben. “I’m glad you’re going. That’s a start. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. But thanks for your support.” She untangled from her blanket and stood. “I think I overindulged in a pity party today. I should go back to the café.” She folded the blanket and tossed it over the back of the couch. Then she tried to straighten her hair.
“I was just there. Your employees have everything under control.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist as if trying to keep warm. “Okay.”
“You want me to call Chelsea to come over with Monopoly? She’d love to keep you company.”
“Thanks, but I need some time to myself. To prepare for tomorrow. I’m going to offer to go to Florida with him. Although, his dad’s making a family vacation out of the trip— Disney World and all. How can I compete against that?”
He got up off the couch and hugged her. “It’s not a competition. Just be yourself. Remind Ben how great you are. I think he’ll figure out a way to spend time with his mom.”
A whisper of a smile lifted her lips. “Thanks.” She looked up at him like she might be interested in that kiss, after all.
But it was just gratitude. And timing. So he released her and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, moving toward the door. “Sorry about barging in uninvited. But Natalie told me you were sick. I was worried.”
Wrapping her arms around herself once again, she said, “You were just doing your officerly duty. No harm done.”
Officerly duty? If only it were as simple as that.
It wasn’t merely a shower but buckets of hard, driving rain that hammered Faith’s car the next evening on the way to see Ben. The nightmarish Atlanta traffic delayed her an hour.
And nearly frayed her last nerve.
When she pulled up at Walt’s house, she was pleased to see Ben’s truck. Walt had kept his word.
And if she were honest, she had to admit that he’d grown into a dependable man. And had a really sweet wife and cute kids. But sometimes, when he did little things like frighten her with phone calls, she couldn’t help but dredge up the worst memories.
She ran, splashing water over her sandals, to the front door of their huge home that sat in a prime location of a swanky Atlanta neighborhood. Walt’s success was still one thing that grated against her. Then again, she was thankful for all the advantages it offered Ben. Like his trip to Europe last summer. This trip to Disney World. And all the baseball travel that had helped him get to where he was today.
Walt’s wife, Susie, answered the door. She was cute, sweet, confident. Everything Faith was not. Only Faith never had been able to dislike the woman. She was very good to Ben.
“Hi, Faith. Come on in.”
“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic.”
She waved away the fact Faith was probably delaying dinner. “No problem. Ben’s up in his room packing. Top of the stairs, first door on the right.”
Faith didn’t really need the reminder. She’d visited with him here several times when he hadn’t been able to come to her house.
Her climb up the hardwood floor staircase was muffled by an elegant runner. She found her son tucking clothes into a suitcase that was open on his bed. No more little boy bedroom. This was an adult’s room with the exception of trophies lining shelves they’d built on one whole wall.
Ben startled when she tapped on his door. “Mom! I didn’t hear you.”
“Sorry I’m late. I hit traffic.” To hug or not to hug? He usually avoided it. But she couldn’t. It had been a while since she’d seen him, so she crossed the room and embraced him.
He actually hugged her back. “I’m packing.”
“I see. Can you use some help?”
“I’m good, I guess.”
They stood staring at each other, but he glanced away. He didn’t want to look her in the eye.
He suddenly turned away and grabbed a pile of T-shirts. He stuffed it in the suitcase. “Look, I’m really sorry. I know you’ve been buying tickets to Braves games and stuff. I had Dad call because I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I know this win is a huge opportunity. But I admit I’m really disappointed we can’t spend time together.”
“Yeah, well…” The shirts didn’t want to fit in the space he’d allotted. He shoved at them and grunted in frustration. “I’m tired of feeling like I let you down.”
His sudden anger made her jerk back as if slapped in the face. But she forced a calm she didn’t feel. Ben was obviously hurting, too. “What do you mean?”
He rolled a pair of jeans. Slapped them into the bag. “It’s all you could talk about—my visit. Even though you know how crazy my summer is with baseball. I love playing ball.” His cheeks reddened as he gave her a desperate look. “I’ll probably get a full ride to college. But are you excited for me? No, all you can think about is having me there. Just so you’ll be happy.”
“Oh, Ben. I’m excited for you. But, I love you and miss you so much.”
Pain ripped through her chest. She had no words. Had no idea where this anger was coming from.
He stopped fighting with the clothes and hung his head. “I’m sorry. I just…”
She pulled him to sit beside her on the bed. “Talk to me, sweetie. Don’t hold anything back. I need to understand.”
He took some shallow breaths as if trying to hold back his emotion. “I know you don’t mean to, but you always pressure me. To…I don’t know. To be everything for you.” He clenched his hands. “I feel like I can’t have my own life when you’re around or when I talk to you. You make me feel guilty. Because you need me so much.”
“Oh, Ben.”
He looked at her with troubled eyes. “Why didn’t you ever date anyone when I was younger?”
Memories of all the times she’d declined second or third dates rattled around in her head. “I did, but I never brought them home. I didn’t trust anyone not to hurt us.”
His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling. “I never knew. All I knew was that I had to be the man of the house. And you depended—” His voice cracked. “You depended on me to make you happy.”
She couldn’t make her voice work. A fist of regret clutched her by the throat.
He looked at her then. Big tears welled up in his eyes. He shrugged, and it seemed as if he were thirteen again. “That was just too much pressure for a kid.”
She hugged him, and this time, he clung to her, as well. Silent sobs racked his body. As if he didn’t remember quite how to cry now that he was a man.
Could there be anything more painful than a grown son crying on her shoulder, so big he could hardly fit? She swallowed her own tears as she rubbed a hand over his soft hair. She needed to be strong for him. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I never meant to do that to you. I just wanted to protect you. And I’ve always been happy as long as you’re happy.”
“How ironic is that?” He scooted away from her, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, then pulled his emotions together—trying once again to look cool and collected. “Don’t you see? That’s wrong. I know I’m your kid and all, but you need to take care of you now. And I’ll take care of me.”
She’d made her poor son miserable through his teen years, expecting him to fill a void he couldn’t fill. And she hadn’t even realized it.
Fingers of anguish clenched at her stomach. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I had no idea…” A sob tried to escape, but she locked it in. She had to focus on him right now. “You’re still my son, the most important person in my life. But I hope you’ll forgive me for pressuring you—even unintentionally.”
He struggled some more to check the emotion and continued packing. No forgiveness offered. “We’re going to the championship. It’s huge,” he said, dropping the subject.
“Your dad told me. I’d love to come to Florida to see you play.” Maybe they could find some common ground. “I’ve got the vacation time lined up already.”
His expression tensed. “I don’t think I’m ready to have you and Dad together for that long in close quarters. I’ll be nervous enough with the scouts there.”
“Sure thing, honey. I’ll come another time.” She stood and began rearranging his suitcase. “Why don’t you let a pro help?”
“Thanks. I hate packing.” He handed her a pile of uniforms.
“You know, I’m really proud of you and all you’ve accomplished. I met a man at a church dinner this past week who’s been following your career. He treated me like a celebrity or something.”
He shook his head, embarrassed. He’d always been awkward with the attention and seemed to have stayed humble—and grateful for any success.
She opened one of the jerseys to refold it. It was huge. “When did you get so grown-up?”
He shrugged. “Little by little.”
Yeah, gradual changes could sneak up on a person. Like her relationship with Gabe.
Should she tell Ben about him? She folded two pairs of pants before she got her nerve. But somehow she knew it was the right thing to do.
“You know, Ben, there’s a man I’ve started to care for.”
He seemed only the slightest bit interested as he handed her another jersey. “What’s his name?”
She took a deep three-second breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Saying it out loud would make it pretty real. But Ben had just shared his heart with her. She could share with him. “His name is Gabe. And he’s my next-door neighbor…”