A Texas-Made Family. Roz Denny Fox
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you’ll distract me with flattery? Just remember what I said, okay?” Rolling her eyes, Rebecca began ticking off the chores that Lisa and her brother needed to take care of while she was gone. “Darn, I still have to change this blouse. I’ll get Jordan to set the table.” Rebecca ruffled Lisa’s hair as she left the kitchen.
She had good kids, she reminded herself as she detoured to the laundry room to rub spot cleaner into the stain on her white blouse. She wished she and Lisa could have a more easygoing relationship. But the responsibility for the family’s well-being was all Rebecca’s. Their household ran as smoothly as it did thanks to the rules she’d implemented. One she always insisted on—eating at least two meals a day together in spite of her crazy work schedule. Tossing the blouse in with the rest of the laundry, she prayed it’d come clean as she set the load to wash, and hurried off to find something else to put on.
When everyone was finally seated around the table, Rebecca pumped Jordan about how his classes were going. Lisa didn’t voluntarily mention hers. When pressed, she said, “I’m researching an interesting English paper on early women authors. Did you know some had to use male pseudonyms in order to get published?”
Rebecca listened intently. “Life hasn’t been a walk in the park for women in a lot of fields, Lisa.”
Finishing her meal first, Rebecca rose and rinsed her plate in the sink. “Don’t forget, kids. No using the disposal until I get someone to check it out.”
“When will that be?” Lisa asked. “It smells yucky, too.”
“It won’t be until I can find room in the budget,” Rebecca said, collecting her purse and dropping a quick kiss on each child’s head. “Lock up,” she cautioned out of habit. “I close the restaurant all week, so leave a light on. And, Jordan, no staying up to watch late shows.”
“Mom, we know all that stuff,” Lisa said. “We’re not babies anymore.”
“Humor me, okay? Old habits are tough for old moms to break.”
“You always say that. Forty isn’t old,” Lisa said testily. “Age is a state of mind.”
“Well, then I must be ancient,” Rebecca shot back right before she went out and shut the door.
Her car coughed and died, coughed and died again. At last she coaxed the engine to turn over. Once out on the street, she patted the dashboard. Her car wasn’t getting any younger, either. Every day Rebecca battled San Antonio’s rush-hour traffic as she dashed between two jobs and home. Tonight was no different, but at least she was relatively satisfied that she had her household back on track. Lisa hadn’t mentioned the new boy again. Hallelujah! At least that problem had been successfully nipped in the bud.
REBECCA CONTINUED with that assumption through three idyllic weeks, during which things ran smoothly at the salon, at the restaurant and at home.
On Monday afternoon of the fourth week, however, she got home late because of more car trouble. She rushed into the house, out of sorts from having to wait for the bus after an unsettling call from Lisa’s school counselor. Giving Jordan’s foot a shake as she passed him on the couch, Rebecca said, “The Nissan’s kaput. When I left the salon, it refused to start and I had to have it towed to a repair shop. I’m running really behind. Jordan, are you listening? Get Lisa. I need a private word with her, and then the two of you throw together BLT sandwiches for supper. There’s lettuce and tomato in the fridge. Fix bacon in the microwave. That’s all we have time for tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Lisa’s not home yet. She stayed for the baseball game. Ryan’s the opening pitcher. He said he’d drive her home after the game.”
Rebecca skidded to a halt on the way to her bedroom. “Run that by me again.”
Unfolding his long body from the too-short couch, Jordan peered at his watch. “Lisa thought she’d beat you home. Usually she does. Today’s game must’ve gone into extra innings.”
“Are you saying this isn’t the first time your sister’s stayed after school for a baseball game?”
“Yeah. She watches the home varsity games. She’d like to sign up for the rooter bus, but she thinks you’d have a fit.”
“That explains why her counselor called me at work. She’s concerned about a sudden slip in Lisa’s grades. Listen, Jordan, I need to take a quick shower. Then you and I will walk over to the school. I haven’t got a clue where the ball diamond is. You can show me.”
“Aw, Mom. What’s the big deal? Lisa’s a brainiac. What’s the harm if she goofs off a bit?” Jordan’s question was drowned out by the slam of his mother’s bedroom door.
Following a very short shower indeed, Rebecca rushed back to the living room. Her coral-colored hair was darker than normal because she’d skipped drying it. She ignored the water spots on the light blue blouse she was tucking into a navy twill skirt.
Jordan launched a second argument against walking to the high school. “It’s a dumb idea, Mom,” he said, “Ryan could take a different route home and miss us alto—” He broke off when a key rattled in the lock and the door opened. Jordan raised a warning eyebrow at his sister, who was completely absorbed in something her companion was saying.
The boy trailing Lisa into the house towered over her by more than a head. He wore a dirt-streaked ball uniform and his nut-brown hair had a windblown, precision cut. No run-of-the-mill barbershop cut, Rebecca noted. But it was the kid’s possessive hand on her daughter’s waist that sent Rebecca’s mind reeling.
“Oh, hi, Mom,” Lisa said belatedly. “I didn’t see your car. I…uh, didn’t think you were home.” Grabbing her new friend’s hand, Lisa dragged him fully into the room. “Ryan’s game ran late. He won it with his brilliant pitching.” Lisa sent him a dazzling smile. “The coach let Ryan pitch the whole game. And he struck out the last three batters. Ryan, this is my mother, Rebecca Geroux. Mom, Ryan Lane, Central High’s pitching star.” Lisa didn’t bother to hide how enamored she was of the boy, who appeared to accept her admiration as his due.
Lisa babbled on, unaware of her mother’s growing tension. “I happened to mention to Ryan that our garbage disposal quit and is starting to smell really gross, Mom. He said he installed one in their house in Germany. He’s offered to look at ours to see if it’s worth fixing, or if we need to replace it. Either way, his labor’s free.”
Ryan held out his hand to Rebecca. “Happy to finally meet you, Mrs. Geroux. Lisa’s told me a lot of nice things about you.” His smile and the way he knew all the right things to say felt calculated to Rebecca. He seemed far too carefree to suit her.
Oh, yes, the counselor’s phone call suddenly made perfect sense. Lisa looked at the kid as if he made the sun rise and set. Ryan Lane was to blame for Lisa’s inattention to her schoolwork.
Rebecca had once married a boy with an engaging smile and a sense of entitlement. She had no intention of allowing Lisa to fall into the same trap.
Closing her eyes briefly, Rebecca dug deep to ground herself in the present. She didn’t want to remember the day she’d been forced to flee from Jack Geroux and find safety for herself and Lisa in a shelter. She’d learned the hard way that smiles and empty promises spelled disaster for a girl with no money of her own and far too little education.
When Rebecca opened her eyes again, all she could see was Ryan Lane’s arrogance. She couldn’t bring herself to shake his hand. For Lisa’s sake, Rebecca wanted this boy—Ryan—to disappear.
“Mom?” Lisa gripped Ryan’s left arm, but she’d begun to gnaw her lip in consternation at her mother’s silence.
Rallying at last, Rebecca found her voice and steeled herself. She abruptly stepped between them, effectively separating Lisa from the cocky interloper. “Excuse me, you’ll have to go. I need to leave for work, and with you bringing Lisa home so late our evening routine has been disrupted. While we’re on the subject of my daughter, let me be perfectly