A Mom for Callie (14 page)

It was no use. She simply wasn't hungry.

“I'm sorry, Angela, I really am, but I just can't eat. It looks good but…I'm just not in the mood.”

Angela waved her hand in the air then wrapped it around the wineglass in front of her. “I can't blame you. Kyle is playing head games with you right now and it's completely unacceptable.” Leaning forward across the table, the woman looked around the outdoor café for a moment before focusing her attention squarely on Betsy. “I admire Kyle for many things—his loyalty to my husband both in and out of the department, his love for his mother and his unwavering devotion to Callie. But this? It's too much.”

She had to agree. This one step forward, two steps back stuff was getting tiresome. Not to mention painful. Especially now, after everything they'd shared. “I thought we'd finally reached some, I don't know, understanding, maybe? We're both colored by our past and we're aware of that. But I thought after the other night, after we made love, that things would be—”

Horrified she'd spoken aloud, Betsy clamped her mouth shut, her hand instinctively reaching for the untouched glass of wine beside her untouched plate of
food. The last thing she wanted was to be peppered with questions that would force her to relive the most magical night of her life. Not now, when the magic seemed more like a fool's decision.

But it was too late. Angela's eyes widened as her glass smacked down on the table. “You were together? The other night? I knew it! I knew it was going to happen…you two are perfect for each other.”

“No. We're not.” Propping her elbow beside her plate, she rested her chin on the backside of her hand. “I wish we were, I really do. But we're not. A relationship that's truly meant to be shouldn't be this hard.”

Angela's brows furrowed. “How do you mean?”

She tried her best to explain, to put words to the revelation-of-sorts she'd reached over the past twelve months. “Well, if two people are truly right for each other it shouldn't be so hard. Compromise is good—don't get me wrong. But if the whole thing is compromise, someone is going through the motions all the time. A true relationship, one that's meant to be, shouldn't be like that.”

“You seemed to work together pretty effortlessly when we played volleyball.”

“Well, we certainly seem to have similar interests in terms of what we like to do—visits to the park, barbecuing with friends…”

“Romantic backyard picnics?”

Her face warmed at the memory. “You know about that?”

“I think the entire Cedar Creek police force and their spouses know about that picnic.” Angela made a face. “And I know I wasn't the only spouse who was asked why we don't do stuff like that.”

She laughed. “Sorry. But I owed him an apology
and it didn't appear as if he was going to give me an opportunity to give the standard verbal variety. I needed to take drastic measures.”

Breaking off a bite-size piece of bread from her plate, Angela nodded, an unreadable expression crossing her face. “So spending time together—in terms of what you like to do—is fairly effortless already?”

“Absolutely. With Mark, it was a constant study in compromise from the very beginning. Though, in all fairness, the compromise only came after the arguments.”

“He wanted to hang out in bars all the time?” Angela asked, a knowing smile lifting her lips.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you went along with it for a while…tried to embrace that life because you thought you should?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And when you finally said something, he made a token effort only to slip back to his usual behavior?”

She felt her mouth gape open. “How'd you know that?”

Angela shrugged. “It's the way it was with just about every guy I dated before Tom.” With a quick hand the copper-haired spitfire pushed the bread into her mouth. When she'd finished chewing, she continued on. “But, if I'm hearing you correctly, you're not picking that up with Kyle. Right?”

“Not at all.”

“O-kay…so where's the part that's not effortless?”

Lifting her chin off her hand, she leaned back against the wire-mesh patio chair. “Everything else. My fear over his job, his concern that I'm going to up and walk out on him at the drop of a hat one day. And yesterday—” she exhaled a sigh of frustration “—I have no idea what went
wrong there. One minute we're playing hide-and-seek in the park and Callie and I are waiting for him to find us. When he finally shows up, he's carrying an attitude that came out of nowhere. It's too much.”

“Ahh.” Angela pushed her plate to the side and leaned forward. “You have no idea where the attitude came from?”

“No. He just showed up with a poorly veiled innuendo regarding my ability to stick around.”

“Your ability to stick around?”

As silly as it sounded out in the open, it was all she'd been able to come up with to explain the irrefutable shift in Kyle's mood halfway through their outing with Callie. “One minute things are great and the next, he's practically volunteering to help me pack my bags.”

For a moment Angela said nothing. She simply sat there, looking down at her hands. Finally, though, she spoke, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “If you knew a breakup was coming, don't you think you'd find it less painful if you were part of the process rather than watching, blindsided, from the side of the road?”

“Of course. It's what made me want to give up on any notion of a relationship with Kyle. If
I
cut it off, then it would be my own doing. If I lost him because of some horrible tragedy, well, it would just be harder. Because I'd be unprepared.”

“And you don't think he feels the same way?”

The meaning behind Angela's cryptic statement hit her full force. She and Callie had been talking about the book. “Oh, I get it now.”

And she did. He knew her stay in Cedar Creek was tied to her work. When the writing was done, there'd be nothing to keep her here.

“What matters, though, is that none of this is in
surmountable.” Angela, too, leaned back in her seat, her fingers finding the stem of her wineglass and giving it a swirl. “It's really just a matter of jumping a few hurdles. The kind of hurdles you'll jump for the rest of your life for one reason or another. But as long as you know they're there, and you do your best to jump them together, they won't be such a big deal.”

She nodded, her mind registering Angela's words and commanding them to memory. “How did you get to be so smart with all of this?”

Ang shrugged. “There are times when Tom carries me, and there are times when I carry him, but we listen to one another
always.
And we respect each other's feelings above all else. It's the only way.”

She met her friend's gaze head-on. “A week ago, when I rented my place, I knew it was temporary.”

“And now?”

“I don't know.” And she didn't. “New York is my home. Or, at least it was.”

The left corner of Angela's mouth lifted, followed by the right. “Was?”

“Was…is…I'm not sure. The way I feel for Kyle is enough to make me want to stay here forever. But—” she stared out into the distance as reality reared its head “—this constant push-pull? This feeling as if I'm being blamed for something I didn't do? I can't live like that…and I won't.”

 

“S
O WE'VE GOT NOTHING
?” Kyle asked as his fist hit the locker. “C'mon, Jake gave a description of the guy, didn't he?”

Tom dropped onto the bench at the end of the locker
room. “He did. But, as of now, it hasn't turned anything up yet. The key word is
yet.
”

“Are we waiting until one of these losers breaks into my mother's home and takes off with my kid?”

“What the hell is with you, dude? There's not a guy in this department who doesn't have his ear to the ground for anything that might shed light on who these guys are. Guys are working extra hours, driving past your house at all hours of the day and night, driving their personal vehicles into the outskirts of town late at night. Why? Because we want this stopped as much as you do. For you and your kid.”

There was no denying the anger in Tom's voice. It was an emotion his partner rarely exuded outside of football season. But it was there now, and it was more than a little justified.

Resting his forehead against the cool metal of his locker, he closed his eyes, willed the tension in his body to ease. “Look, I'm sorry. I was out of line just now.”

“You're damn straight you were.” Tom pitched himself forward as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “It's only a matter to of time, dude. We'll get 'em.”

“I'm just worried. My daughter saw that graffiti.”

“But Betsy smoothed it over. It's okay.”

Betsy.

Just the sound of her name made his heart race and his stomach churn. How could one person make you feel as high as a kite one moment and like dirt the next? “It's not her job to smooth things over. It's mine.”

“I get that. But be glad she was there.”

“At that moment, yes. But she won't be for much longer.”

Tom stared at him. “What are you babbling about?”

Cocking his head against the locker, he stared up at the ceiling, the white stucco finish in desperate need of a paint job. “Betsy, who else?”

“I got that. What's this about her not being around for much longer?”

His eyes fixed on a round water stain that appeared relatively new. “This isn't her home, Tom. New York is. She's only here so she can write her book.”

“And?”

“When her book is finished, she goes back.” Without waiting for a response, he continued on, his mouth finally putting words to the nagging thoughts that had kept him awake half the night. “I've already accepted the fact that I'm an idiot—that I seem to be a glutton for punishment.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “My choice in women. At first, when I heard what Betsy did for a living, I likened her to Lila and that was unfair. I realize that now. Betsy is more grounded, more real. But that doesn't mean I'm blind. She's a writer—a fairly popular one at that. And, unless I'm mistaken, New York is where it's at for publishing, isn't it? She's not gonna give that up for me. Who would? Does it hurt? Hell, yeah. But I'm a big boy. Callie is just a little girl.”

“What does this have to do with Callie?”

“Sometimes I'm so wrapped up in my own world I forget that I'm not the only one who got hurt by Lila walking the way she did. That little girl lost her mother. Her
mother,
Tom.” He pulled his gaze from the ceiling and fixed it on his partner. “And what did I do? I served my daughter's heart on a silver platter to a woman who doesn't consider Cedar Creek her home any more
than Lila did. I'm not sure I can forgive myself for that one.”

“You lost me, dude.”

He tried again. “I should have known better as far as my heart was concerned. Hell, I
do
know better. But I ignored it and plowed ahead anyway, dragging Callie into my mistake by my own two hands.”

Tom's left eyebrow rose, and then his right. “Wait, let me get this straight. You've decided Betsy is leaving when her book is done. And because she's spent some time with Callie over the past week or so, you've decided your child will be forever damaged when she leaves?”

Listening to his thought process aloud made him squirm. “I think you're oversimplifying things a bit, but, yeah.”

“I'm not oversimplifying. I'm just giving the Cliffs Notes version. I'm a master at encapsulating ten minutes into thirty seconds.” Tom rose to pace around the locker room. “Has Betsy said she's leaving the second the book is done?”

He followed his friend around the room, watching with amusement as Tom opened lockers in search of superfluous snacks. “Not recently, but—”

“Then why are you so sure she's leaving?” In the third locker he came to, Tom hit the jackpot with an open bag of individually wrapped chocolate squares. Popping one into his mouth, he peered over his shoulder at Kyle. “You don't think Hanson will mind, do you?”

“I doubt he'll notice one or two…or three missing candies.” Kyle shook his head. “I'm sure she's leaving because she
lives
in New York, Tom. She's just here temporarily.”

Tom closed Hanson's locker then switched to the other side of the room, his fingers deftly opening and
closing each door. “I'm pretty sure she can write from anywhere. There are authors all over this country who live in places other than New York. That's one of the many beauties of computers, e-mail and an occasional airplane ticket.”

Was Tom right? Could Betsy really work from anywhere?

“Seriously, stop borrowing trouble and just see how things play out.” Tom gave up his search and headed toward the door. “You've got feelings for her—that's obvious. So why not see where they go?”

Oh, he knew where they went. And how they tasted. And how they felt. And how they sounded. And how they moved. It was all he'd thought about since they were together.

Well, that, and the nagging voice in his head warning him to get out before it was too late.

To Tom, he simply shrugged. “That's all well and good except for one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Callie.”

His hand on the door, Tom turned. “Callie was six months old when Lila left. She remembers nothing. And unless I'm missing something, she's one well-adjusted kid despite that.” Releasing his grip on the door, Tom crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Second, there's not a single one of us who can't benefit from feeling special even if it's only for a little while. Betsy does that for Callie.”