Homestands (Chicago Wind #1) (6 page)

She cleaned the kitchen, stacked leftovers in the fridge, and started the dishwasher. She was wiping the table when Mike thumped open palms against it. She jumped, flushing when he crooked an eyebrow at her.

“Time to play in your room, Terrell,” he said. “Your mom and I need to talk.”

“About how often I’ll get to see you?”

“That’s part of it.”

“Why can’t I stay?” Terrell dropped his chin onto his fist.

Meg straightened, ready for a tantrum.

“Come on, junior.” Mike pretended to struggle while pulling Terrell off his chair. “We’ve got stuff to discuss. We’ll tell you about it later.”

Standing at Mike’s feet, Terrell craned his neck and looked up. “Yes, sir,” he said and saluted stiffly, looking for a moment as if he might topple backward. “I’ll report back soon.”

“No, you won’t,” Meg told him as he goose-stepped past. “We’ll get you when we’re done.”

His marching turned to shuffling. “Aye, aye,” he mumbled, then left the room.

Mike sat down with a laugh. “I’m surprised he listened to me.”

They were alone. And Mike was smiling. She squeezed the dishcloth in her hand and turned her back on him, scrubbing the peninsula. “This is all a dream to him. Imagine if you were his age and found out your dad was…”

“Frank Thomas?”

His boyhood hero. “Well, something like that.”

“He seems like a good kid, Meg.”

“He is. Thank you.” She spread the dishcloth over the sink’s edge and looked around. What else could she do?

“Will you sit down? It’s hard to talk when you’re working.”

That was the point, but he was right. She couldn’t postpone their conversation any longer. She pulled a chair as far from him as she could without being ridiculous and sat down, arms crossed.

“Thanks for dinner.” Mike leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers intertwined. “You hit most of my favorites.”

She acknowledged his compliment with a nod, waiting for Monday’s wrath to return. “Thank you for being civil in front of Terrell.”

He studied her, his mouth forming a half-smile. “Actually—” He gave a small laugh. “I’ve been thinking about you for a long time. I’ve wanted to see you.”

She blinked away her surprise, forcing a fake smile. “Should I feel flattered?”

“Feel however you want. I guess that doesn’t impress you, though.”

“Not when you walked out on me.” Where was he going with this? “Why are you here, Mike? I thought this was about you taking me to court.”

“We’re not going to court—unless we can’t work this out.”

He was crazy if he thought she’d hand over any part of Terrell’s custody. “What are you expecting?”

“I want to spend time with Terrell. Lots of time.”

“So you want weekends or…” She dragged out the last word, hoping he’d catch her sarcasm. It was awfully hard for a guy to parent when he traveled half the year.

“Meg.” He straightened. “I’m not trying to take custody from you. He’s lived without me for six years, he looks happy and healthy here, and as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t take care of him by myself. Between my games and travel, he’d be living with a nanny half the time.”

“Three fourths of the time.”

Mike held up a hand. “Whatever.”

Silence fell between them. Mike sat still, watching her.

Meg eyed him back. What was behind this sudden change? “Did your lawyer tell you that you wouldn’t win custody?”

“I didn’t talk to a lawyer. When I thought it through, I knew it wouldn’t be right. Having a dad all of a sudden has got to be a shock to him. I can’t shake up his life any more than that.”

Interesting. Mike Connor with a conscience. Well, she’d take it, whatever his true motive. “How do you plan on this working?”

“I can call when I have free time and we can get together, hang out, do whatever six-year-old boys do.”

“Terrell would like that.”

“Good. During the off-season I can watch him while you’re working, keep him at my place every now and then.”

She gave a non-committal shrug. Until she knew Mike’s character—if he had any—she wouldn’t agree to a thing.

“Who watches him when you’re working?” he asked.

“My neighbor, Jill. Her husband’s been—” She paused, embarrassed at what she’d almost said. Well, Mike might as well know. “Clark’s been like a father to Terrell.”

Mike nodded, but his mouth twisted and he toyed with the rim of his cup. “Jill keeps him at her house? Nearby?”

She nodded. “Next door. Jill and Clark are good friends. They have a little boy too. Samuel, after Samuel in the Bible.”

Mike stared blankly.

What was she thinking? Mike wouldn’t know that story. It was new to her too. “It’s a story in the Bible. A woman who couldn’t have kids.” She waved her hand between them. “Never mind.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Since when do you read the Bible?”

It didn’t sound like a real question, but after a moment, she answered. “I became a Christian over a year ago.”

His mouth twitched. “Good for you.”

“We go to church Sundays and Wednesday nights.”

“Wednesday? Why do you go to Mass twice a week?”

“It’s—it’s not Mass, Mike.”

He sat up, expression serious. “What kind of church is it? I don’t want my son picking up weird ideas.”

“We follow the Bible. Is that weird?”

He shrugged as if that were up for debate. “And your parents?” A smirk covered his face. “I can’t picture them happy with this.”

The words stung like a sudden paper cut. “My parents are dead.”

His grin vanished. He pulled back, eyes closing. “Meg, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She studied her hands, angry that with no warning he’d resurrected her pain. “They died in a car accident awhile back. Bad snowstorm, white-out conditions.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Silence covered the room. The enormity of all the divorce had taken shook her still. She’d visited her parents in Dixon, Illinois, her childhood home, on rare occasions, afraid a mutual friend from high school would see Terrell, guess, and tell Mike. She’d never imagined that she’d lose her parents or that she’d be forced to sell the family farm she loved—because of him.

Mike blew out a deep breath, then tapped the tabletop. “My parents had been wondering. They’d lost touch with your parents and were afraid they were upset with them over… us.”

Us.

Meg met his eyes. How could he be so calm? “Mom and Dad were never angry at them.”

“If it’s any comfort, my parents were pretty peeved at me.”

“It’s not.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” He glanced around the room, lips pressed together as if he was thinking things over.

What had he expected tonight? What was it with all this niceness?

Her mind traveled back to the months following their separation and the way she’d asked him to come back every chance she got. Had he expected that?

She lifted her chin and waited for him to look back. When he did, she held his gaze. Did he see how strong she was? Had he noticed she’d said nothing about them?

“Meg, I’ve missed you.”

She caught her breath and turned away.

Mike leaned in front of her. “Do you ever wonder if we were too quick to—”

“
We
were too quick?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth. “Okay. Me. Sorry.”

How could he twist what had happened? If he even accused her of being the one who was unfaithful…

“You’re right.” His words seemed to pain him. “You’re right. I was the idiot. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I’ve spent years wishing I could change everything.”

Too late for that. Too late to take back his words and smirks and humiliations. “What good does that do me now, Mike? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I mean—I messed up. Okay? I wanted to make things right, but nobody knew where you were. When I saw you at the game, I had to come see you. You can’t think us running into each other doesn’t mean something.”

“Stop. Just stop.” She stood up, heart pounding, tears threatening. He’d looked for her? “I expect to fend off you and your lawyers, and instead—”

Thudding footsteps sounded in the foyer.

Terrell—what had he heard?

Meg sat, folded her arms and crossed her legs in an effort to calm herself.

A moment later Terrell’s voice sounded behind her. “Mommy?” His bare feet padded across the floor. “Is everything okay? You guys were talking loud.”

He leaned his head against her shoulder, and Meg forced a smile, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Everything’s fine, Terrell. Mike was about to leave.”

“Actually, I can stick around.”

Wasn’t he being helpful? “Not tonight.”

Terrell moaned.

Meg shot him a look. “It’s getting late, and you still need a bath. You have school tomorrow.” She stood, avoiding Mike’s eyes, and headed for the foyer.

Terrell followed. “But you said you’d tell me what you talked about.”

Meg listened for Mike’s footsteps behind her. There they were. “Later, Terrell.”

“Everything’s fine, Terrell. Your mom will explain it to you.”

His voice quivered. “I’m not moving away, am I?”

Her anger at Mike melted. How could she have forgotten Terrell’s fear?

She turned, finding Mike kneeling before him, his hands gripping Terrell’s forearms.

“You’re staying right here,” Mike said. “Whenever your mom and I say it’s okay, you can visit me, but this is your home. I don’t think it’d be right to take you away. Do you?”

Who
was
this thoughtful man?

Relief covered Terrell’s face. “When will I get to see you, then?”

“I’m not sure. Tomorrow the team starts a road trip, but when I get back we’ll plan something.”

Terrell’s lower lip protruded.

“I’m sorry, Terrell, but that’s the way it is when you play baseball. I travel a lot. When the season’s over, things will be different.”

Meg closed her eyes at the heartbreak on Terrell’s face. She should have prepared him.

“I got it.” Mike snapped his fingers. “Let’s make up a sign I can give you when I’m at bat. I’ll rub my chin, like this.” He dragged his thumb once beneath his chin, as if absentmindedly wiping something away. “That’ll be my way of saying, ‘Hi, Terrell. Looking forward to coming home and seeing you.’ What do you think?” Mike rubbed Terrell’s chin.

Terrell laughed. “I like that.”

With a grin, Mike stood to his feet. He rubbed Terrell’s chin again, then bent over for Terrell to rub his own.

Once they finished, uncomfortable silence returned.

Mike looked around, patting his pocket for his wallet. His eyes finally met hers. “I can’t go, Meg.”

“You can’t—what?”

“I need more time. Another half hour. We can get ice cream, play a game, something.”

She didn’t want another second with him, not after everything he’d dropped on her.

But he had her in a bind, and he knew it. A refusal would have him calling his lawyer.

He wasn’t playing fair.

“Fine. Ice cream.” She could hear the chill in her voice. “But he has school tomorrow.”

“Then half an hour.” Terrell’s cheers almost drowned out Mike’s voice. “Thanks, Meg.”

She ignored him as she headed for her purse. She hadn’t done it to be nice.

Twilight lingered over the ice cream shop, its crowded parking lot lit by brightness spilling from the shop’s windows.

Mike pulled into the last parking spot, disappointed to see so many people.

Two teenage boys walked in front of his car. One nudged the other with his elbow and pointed Mike’s way.

Not good, not tonight when he needed privacy.

Meg’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Something wrong?”

“No.” He smiled at her as he shifted into reverse, ignoring the way she sat with arms crossed. “We’ll go through the drive-through.”

Terrell ordered a caramel sundae and Meg a cup of frozen strawberry yogurt, the same thing she’d ordered the last time they’d eaten ice cream together. However long ago that was. She must live in ruts—fifteen years ordering the same frozen yogurt, six years hating his guts.

They waited silently while the sleepy teen, clearly not a baseball fan, filled their order.

So far the night had been a roller coaster. Getting to know Terrell had been the climb, followed by the deep plunge of rejection. When was the last time a woman told him no? He searched his memory. Seemed he was the one telling them no.

Their order finally ready, Mike handed his sundae to Meg, who directed him to a park at the end of her block. He parked on the street and followed her and Terrell to an isolated picnic table.

Two kids and a woman, who ignored him, played on the swing set.

This was better than he’d hoped. Privacy
and
setting.

Terrell scarfed his ice cream before Mike was halfway done and ran for the swing set.

The silence in his absence drew Mike’s gaze to Meg.

She played with her melting yogurt.

What did he say, now that their common bond was gone? He glanced Terrell’s way. “Having Terrell—and seeing you again—we’re like our own little family.”

She smiled as if humoring him. “We’re not a family, Mike.”

“I know.” He scraped hot fudge from the side of his bowl as he waited for the sting of her words to fade. It didn’t. “But it’ll be nice to look forward to seeing someone when I come home from a road trip.”

“What about your parents? Your sisters?”

“Mom and Dad live near LA now. Betsy’s up in Lake Forest, but I really don’t see her unless her boys want tickets to a game. They’re still White Sox fans. Go figure.”

Terrell waved from atop a plastic slide.

Meg waved back. “How are Betsy and Linda?”

“All right.” No, Meg had missed the bombshell that had rocked his family. “Actually, Betsy was getting beat up.”

The confusion in Meg’s eyes changed to shock. “Doug? He beat her?”

“From the moment they got married.”

She stared at him, the longest gaze she’d given him yet. “I never knew.”

“Neither did we. A couple years after you”—he swallowed, rephrasing his words—“after we divorced, he almost killed her. I was up here, playing the Sox, I think. My parents called, said Betsy had phoned them, was incoherent, and wouldn’t answer when they called back. They asked me to go check.” He tapped his fingers against the wood. “I found her.”