Dreaming of Home. Glynna Kaye
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gauzy black skirt and curve-hugging denim jacket accentuated a mesmerizing sway.
Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the well-worn Bible on a table where he intended to read after his run. In an abrupt move, he pushed back in his chair, picked up the Sunday paper and attempted to focus on the latest world disasters. They didn’t hold a candle to the one he could see brewing right here in his own backyard if he didn’t keep his mind on business.
A few minutes later, at the sound of Meg’s laugh and Davy stomping up the stairs, he lifted his gaze again. Davy hurried back into the house, leaving Meg behind. She stepped onto the deck, looking even better close up than she had from a distance. She didn’t appear to harbor underhanded intentions beneath that sunny countenance, but from here on out he’d be on his guard.
“G’morning, Miss Meg.”
“Good morning, Davy’s Dad.” She smiled, her eyes assessing his sweat-stained “Go Navy” tank shirt, shorts and bare feet. The scruffed-up hair.
He guessed it was clear enough he wouldn’t be joining the churchgoers. “So, you’re hitchin’ a ride, huh?”
She set down an overstuffed canvas bag against the deck railing. “Your son made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged as he flashed her a grin. “He’s the ladies’ man of the kindergarten set.”
“No foolin’.”
He tossed the newspaper aside. “Hey, thanks again for hosting a dessert night for Davy. That’s all he could talk about at breakfast this morning. That blue fish was a hit.”
“I had fun, too. I miss my nieces and nephew. Regular little chatterboxes.”
He narrowed his eyes. Could his son have said anything last night, in his innocence, to further corroborate his dad’s ill-advised admissions to the engaging woman?
“I hope Davy didn’t fill you too full of tall tales.”
“Oh, I probably have enough goods on you and Bill now,” Meg said, tilting her head as an impish smile surfaced, “to make for a comfortable retirement.”
“Oh, great.”
Her smile widened, and against his will he drank it in like a thirst-parched man in the desert. He stretched out his legs and folded his hands across his midsection, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You know, don’t you—”
His dad poked his head out the door and set Davy’s backpack on the deck. “Be out in a minute, Meg. Meet ya at the truck.”
“Okay.” She glanced at Joe. “You were saying?”
What was with him, anyway? Every time he was around her he wanted to draw out the conversation. Make her smile. Laugh. What he really needed to be doing was setting her straight on this job thing. Or at least figuring out where she stood on it.
He waved her off. “Can’t remember. Was probably a lie.”
To his satisfaction, she rewarded him with that light, joy-filled laugh he’d already come to associate with her.
Still smiling, she turned to the deck stairs. “See you later, Joe.”
She’d reached the bottom of the steps when Davy dashed out the door, something flat and rectangular gripped tightly in his hands.
“Hey, mister.” Joe reached out to snag his son’s arm, but missed. “Whatcha got there?”
The boy paused for an uncertain moment, his eyes searching Joe’s. Then with a shy smile, he surrendered the object. An eight-by-ten picture frame.
Joe’s breath caught as he turned it toward him. A family portrait. Mom. Dad. Davy. Recovering, he gave his son a reassuring smile and handed back the frame. “Good lookin’ daddy you have there, kid.”
Davy rolled his eyes and hugged the picture to his chest. Then he turned and squatted to unzip his backpack.
“You don’t need to take that to church with you, bud.”
The boy stiffened and looked back at him. “It’s to show Miss Meg.”
“Yeah?” Joe looked around for her, but she’d moved off toward the driveway, out of earshot. Still, he lowered his voice. “You know, she may not want to see that.”
“Yes, she does.” Davy’s brows lowered as he turned again to the backpack and stuffed the frame inside. With a defiant glance over his shoulder, he snatched up the pack and dashed from the deck. “And you can’t stop me.”
Temper rising, he stood. “David—”
“Let it go, Joe.” Bill’s quiet voice came from the doorway.
Joe ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I don’t care if he takes the picture. It’s this insubordinate attitude that keeps popping out when I least expect it.”
“He’s had a lot of adjustments to make in his short life. He’ll come around.”
“I hope so. Don’t get me wrong, okay? I’ll owe her for the rest of my life, but Rosemary,” he said, referring to his mother-in-law, “didn’t always run a tight ship.”
“Patience, sailor.” His dad cast him a significant look before stepping off the deck. “What goes around comes around—like father, like son.”
Joe stared after him as he rounded up Davy and buckled him into the back of a blue extended-cab pickup. When everyone was secured inside, the truck backed out and his father returned a wave.
Like father, like son? Had he been such a rebellious little brat like Davy could be at times? He stepped to the edge of the deck, his grip tightening on the railing. It was great of his father to take in son and grandson after all these years. But he could see only a week into the experience that having two heads of the same household wasn’t going to work.
This week he’d start looking for a new place to live. Maybe to rent, but preferably one to buy. He still had the money from the San Diego house sale squirreled away. Buying would establish both the relational and legal roots he needed to ensure his and Davy’s future together. He’d do some sleuthing, too. See if he could figure out what innocent-eyed Ms. McGuire was up to.
With a curious twinge of disappointment, Meg glanced back at the house—and Joe—before both disappeared from sight. His attire had clued her immediately that he didn’t intend to join them, so Sharon was right about that. Although he could have if he’d been inclined. Canyon Springs Christian Church catered to seasonal visitors and was no stranger to the casually dressed crowd.
At any rate, she had to admit he’d looked gorgeous this morning, his muscular brown legs stretched out, sunlight glancing off a head of shiny, ebony hair. And that appraising look he’d leveled in her direction as she stepped up on the deck? It had been enough to send her heart scampering up her throat. It was a wonder she’d been able to return his greeting.
She shook away the memory of his dark, smoky eyes. “Thanks for inviting me along, Bill.”
“With gas prices seesawing again, it never hurts to carpool.”
“What’s carpool?” Davy rummaged in his backpack. “Where cars swim?”
“Look who’s a comedian this morning.” Bill chuckled as he turned onto the black-topped road.
They’d barely picked up speed when Davy thrust something over the seat. A picture frame dropped beside her.
“That’s my mommy.”
Bill exchanged a glance with her as she picked up the frame and turned it face-up. A family portrait. The kind you got at a department store or had made for a church directory.
“She’s beautiful, Davy.”
And she was. A playful, wide-mouthed smile.