Blossom Street (Books 1-10). Debbie Macomber
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suppose you’d like to know what happened,” Brad said, his voice defiant.
“No—you don’t have to—”
“Let’s talk,” he suggested.
“Perhaps later,” I said, my head spinning. “I need to think about this….”
“We can walk with you,” Cody inserted, eager to be with me. “Did you come here every week? We didn’t,” he said. “Mom thinks the wind and sun aren’t good for her skin, and she didn’t think Dad and I should come without her.”
“No, I stayed away, too.” This wasn’t the first time Cody had alluded to his mother. “Maybe you should tell me what happened,” I said, looking at Brad.
“Cody,” Brad said to his son, handing over the leash. “Go on ahead with Chase. Make him heel, okay?”
The boy showed his disappointment. “I want to talk to Lydia, too, Dad. I missed her.”
“You’ll get your chance, I promise.”
Cody looked at me, and I nodded in agreement. He gave a boyish grin and took off, walking sedately. “Heel, Chase. Heel!”
We both watched them for a minute and I smiled at Cody’s earnest effort to restrain the dog.
“It didn’t work out,” Brad said flatly. “Janice is gone.”
That was a pretty minimal explanation. “Could you give me a few details?”
Brad pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “You were right. Janice didn’t want me back, nor was she particularly interested in being a mother to Cody. She just didn’t want you and me together.”
I nodded.
“Cody once told her he wanted you to be his mom, and Janice got all bent out of shape. She went into panic mode and decided she couldn’t let that happen.”
“I see.”
“I stopped loving Janice a long time ago.”
I didn’t feel qualified to comment.
“I had to try to make a go of the reconciliation for Cody’s sake. A child deserves a mother and a father.”
“I love Cody, too,” I cried, “and I understood why you did what you did. But you completely discounted my feelings.”
“Be angry with me if you want,” Brad concluded, quickening his pace. “The thing is, I’m sick to death of women and their demands. I loved Janice and she pulled every string she could to manipulate me, using my son.”
“And that’s my fault?” I was a second away from reminding him that he’d been the one to shove me aside. As I’d told him, I knew why he’d done it and I loved the way he loved his son, but I had a hard time getting past the pain it had caused me.
“Now you want your pound of flesh.”
“I beg your pardon?” I certainly recognized the allusion but didn’t understand how it applied to me.
“You heard me,” he said. “What you want is for me to come crawling back to you because Janice decided she needed her freedom, after all.”
I swallowed down my pent-up anger.
“I notice it didn’t take you long to find someone else.”
“What did you expect me to do?” I asked, even though it had been a lie. “Did you want me to sit at home and pine for you?”
He hesitated. “No, and you didn’t, which is just perfect.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “You know what? I’ve had it with women and relationships. It’s just too damned hard.”
“I was the one you dumped,” I pointed out. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Brad had hurt me badly. Now I was supposed to pretend nothing had happened? None of my concerns appeared to interest Brad.
He shook his head. “It’s over, Lydia. With Janice, with you, and with every other female on the planet. I don’t understand women. I never have and I doubt I ever will. Living the rest of my life alone would be easier than dealing with an irrational female.”
“I’m not irrational!”
“Whatever you say. But I’m not crawling back to you.”
“Well, I’m not chasing after you, either.” I wanted to make that clear right then and there.
He smiled sardonically. “I know, and frankly that suits me just fine.”
41
CHAPTER
COURTNEY PULANSKI
According to Grams, Courtney wouldn’t be able to ride her bicycle much longer. Two or three weeks at the most. The autumn rains would start in mid-October, and it wouldn’t be safe to ride on slick roads. Soon it would be dark by midafternoon.
Courtney would miss riding as part of her exercise and weight-maintenance program. It helped her vent her frustrations and stay out of the kitchen. She’d managed to maintain her twenty-five-pound weight loss, which was no small feat. Making better food choices had become easier, but her gaze often lingered on sweets and on the candy machine. That stuff was pure poison for her.
The best development since school started was that she’d made a few friends, including Mike, her chauffeur. That was what he called himself, and with great flair. He was shy but she’d discovered that he had a subtle sense of humor that seemed to come out of nowhere. Every now and then, always unexpectedly, he’d crack a joke that was hilarious. Until recently, she’d hoped Mike would ask her to the Homecoming Dance, but it was plain he’d set his sights on someone else.
She was only now becoming acquainted with the students in her classes. Most days, she hung around with Monica and Jocelyn, girls from her trigonometry class. Jocelyn and Mike liked each other and were perfect together, so Courtney played the role of matchmaker.
Annie was her closest friend. They talked on the phone often and saw each other at school, but they didn’t have any classes together. Courtney liked Andrew, too. A lot.
Taking a sharp corner on her bike, Courtney rolled onto her grandmother’s street and coasted to a stop. She climbed off, wheeling the ten-speed around to the garage. Helmet looped over her arm, she headed toward the kitchen door.
“Is that you, Courtney?” Grams called from the living room.
“It’s me,” she shouted back as she stopped at the sink to get a drink of water.
“You’ve got company, dear.”
Courtney set the glass down and tried to remember whether she’d noticed any cars parked out front. She couldn’t imagine who’d be visiting.
When she walked into the living room and saw Andrew sitting on the sofa, she nearly dropped her helmet. “Hi,” she said, hardly able to find her voice.
“Hi,” he said, grinning back at her.
“Look, dear, he’s wearing the socks you knit him.” Grams seemed utterly delighted by this. “Well, I’ll leave you young people to discuss whatever you want to talk about.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pulanski.”
Vera hesitated on her way to the kitchen. “I have some oatmeal cookies in the freezer I can defrost if you’re interested, Andrew.”
He shared a look with Courtney. “Thanks, anyway, Mrs. Pulanski. Maybe another time.”
“You don’t need anything, do you?” Grams turned to Courtney.
“Nothing, thanks,” she said.
Her grandmother nodded and, good as her word, she left the room.
“What are you