A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family. Kathleen O'Brien
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“Last night was a mistake.”
So she had been avoiding him. “Why?”
In the doorway, a barrier between him and her home, Sue said, “I…with Carrie…it’s not right.”
At least she hadn’t said she wasn’t interested in him.
“I’m not going to be used,” she added.
Eyes narrowed, Rick hardly felt the fifty-degree chill. “Regarding Carrie, you mean.”
“It fits, doesn’t it? I fall for you. I give you what you want—your niece.”
“When did you come up with this theory? Before or after you shared your bath with me?”
“After.”
Her doubts were understandable. He blamed her for them, anyway.
“How about, I meet my niece’s foster mother. She’s different from any woman I’ve ever met. I want to get to know her. And the more I do, the more she’s in my thoughts all day long—”
“Can you honestly tell me those thoughts don’t include the fact that I can help you get Carrie?”
“My interest in you doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
“But you still hope I’ll help.”
“Of course I do.”
“Like I said, last night was a mistake.” She started to close the door.
“Wait.” Rick shoved his foot between the door and the jamb. “I hope you’ll help,” he said, “but last night…my interest in you…that has nothing to do with Carrie.”
“Uh-huh. And will it still be there if I recommend that your niece be placed with your mother?”
He didn’t like the question. “I think so.” His answer was instant, and honest.
“But you aren’t sure.”
“Last night did not happen with any thought in mind of you helping me with Carrie. I was thinking of you. Period.”
She glanced down—so did he—and saw her toes curling around the edge of the door frame.
“I don’t want a serious relationship,” she said when she glanced back up.
She’d said that before. “How about friendship?”
“I’m not going to help you with Carrie. If I think she’d be better off with your mother, I’m going to say so.”
“I know.”
“And you’re okay with that.”
“Not really. But I’ve been forewarned.”
“And you still want to be my friend?”
“I still want to explore last night further.”
When Sue grimaced, the tension between them escalated. “You’re not easy to peg, Rick Kraynick. Or to ignore.”
“Neither are you, Ms. Bookman. So at least we have that going for us, huh?”
She leaned back against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. “What makes you so…difficult?”
“Me? I’m as simple as they come. Boring, even.”
Her burst of laughter made him smile. “How does it work when you need time to yourself?” he asked. “With the kids, I mean?”
“Same as any other parent with kids. I call a sitter. One of the other foster mothers and I trade off whenever we can.”
“You think she’d be available one afternoon this week?”
“Which one?”
“Any one you’ll agree to spend with me.”
“Tuesday?”
“Tuesday. You think you can arrange it?”
Sue said she would. And before Rick made it back to his place, she’d already called him on his cell and told him that Tuesday was a go. She was going to meet him in the parking lot at school with her bike.
She talked to him for another hour while he sat in his underground parking lot, and had him laughing as she told him about embarrassing moments growing up with her dedicated parents. How they’d wear matching shirts with slogans, traipse through the grocery store as a threesome and flip coins in the middle of the aisle over ice cream flavors. And they showed up at lunch on the first day of school—every year until she started high school.
She had him laughing. Out loud.
Damn, that felt good.
His BUTT LOOKED EVEN better on a bike seat than it did in tight jeans. The deep tenor of his voice, familiar to her, from their phone conversations, distracted her from the vision. He told her about his climb from teacher to principal to administration in the Livingston school district—the system she’d attended—as they rode up and down streets she’d once walked on a regular basis. Some had changed. Some were exactly the same.
They were on their way to a new bike path he’d told her about. Along the route of an old railroad track, a paved path that stretched for more than twenty miles.
“This feels fabulous.” Dressed in black leggings and a matching long-sleeved formfitting tunic, she smiled over at him. “I used to ride all the time, but with the babies, I hardly ever have a chance anymore.”
“What do you do for exercise?”
“I used to hike Twin Peaks while Grandma played with the babies. But now that Grandma’s gone…”
There it was again. That reminder. Every single reminder was like finding out again, for the first time, that Grandma had died.
And that she’d lied.
“Sounds like the two of you were close.” Rick’s green eyes made Sue feel things she’d never felt before…as though he knew her better than anyone else ever had.
Which was ridiculous. Everybody knew how close she was to her grandmother. She was just vulnerable because she was missing Grandma.
“Very,” she said, turning her gaze back to the path in front of them, the trees sprouting new spring leaves. And she wanted the ride to last forever.
“They say it gets easier,” he said softly.
“That’s what I hear.”
“I’m not sure they know what they’re talking about.”
“You sound as though you’re speaking from experience, aside from your sister, that is.”
“I guess I am.”
“Recent experience?” Had he been in love? And she’d died?
Rick’s shrug gave Sue the idea she was on the right path. Did he find the subject difficult to talk about?
“How come you never married?” she asked, hoping to draw him out if he wanted to share with her.
Hoping he wanted to share with her.
He pedaled along easily. “She said no.”
Sue almost skidded off the path. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Seven years.”
“Is she still alive?” Sue asked gently.
“As far as I know.”
“Do you ever hear from her?”
“Briefly, six months ago.”
So much for the lost love theory.