Robin was immediately indignant. “So? I give plenty to charity. I can buy a pair of shoes if I want.”
“Of course you can… but it's the principle of spending that much on shoes, Robin.”
“Oh man,” Robin cried, “here we go again! Doughnuts, shoes—you have too many damn principles, Jake.”
“And you obviously don't have enough.”
That stunned her—she gasped, then abruptly picked up her shoes. “I don't have to listen to this!” she snapped and went into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Okay, maybe he was out of line, but she went through money like water, unfazed by the enormity of what she was spending. Not that he would ever utter a word about what she did with her money, save the shoe incident, but for a man struggling month to month to pay his mortgage and keep his business afloat, it was a hard tiling to watch.
Truthfully, a lot of his discomfort was wrapped up in his pride. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get used to the fact that Robin had so much more than he did. He liked to think of himself as an enlightened guy, definitely a player in the new millennium, but the cold hard truth was when it came to men and women, he was pretty traditional in his beliefs. Men protected and provided. Women… well, women did whatever women did. Nurture. Raise kids. Bake and decorate. Actually, it didn't matter to him what they did, as long as he was the one doing the providing.
He wasn't even close to providing on her scale, wasn't even in the same galaxy. That quiet frustration led to more than one argument between them. Like the day she had the idea that they would “pop up to New York ” for dinner. The suggestion was so ludicrous to him that he didn't think much of it, until he overheard Robin calling in for the Lear jet.
“You're kidding,” he said flatly. “You are not thinking of ordering that jet up just so you can eat sushi in some New York bar.”
It was very obvious she was not kidding, and furthermore, did not like the way he asked that question. “Why not?” she demanded. “It's my jet.”
“It's not your jet, it belongs to LTI, and you have a responsibility to that company to be fiscally prudent. Don't you even think of the unnecessary expense to your father's company of jetting around the country on your personal whims?”
“News flash, Handy Andy—it's none of your business what I do!” she said hotly.
He hated when she said that, like he was some second-class citizen, unaffected by her decisions. But at the same time, it was none of his business. “At least I'm not frivolous,” he had retorted. “And God help LTI the day you're at the helm.”
That remark had infuriated her.
They didn't go to New York that weekend. Robin was mad for a full day, but did at last own up to being spoiled. And in return, Jake owned up to butting in where he didn't belong. But he would have been less than honest if he didn't admit that her endless resources were a source of distress to him, pointing out to him on a pretty constant basis that he was playing way out of his league.
And it sure didn't help matters that Mr. Ever-present Evan seemed to have the same disregard for money as she did. It seemed he was forever showing up to take Robin to dinner at some swank restaurant Jake could only afford to read about. It was all done under the guise of business, of course, and Robin was naive enough to believe it. Yeah, well, Jake saw Evan for what he was—a master at the game of wooing women, and in this case, Jake flat didn't have the resources to compete.
But he had to hand it to Robin—his lack of resources never seemed to bother her. Other than an occasional exasperation when she tried to pay for something and he wouldn't allow it, she never seemed to want more from him than he could offer. She seemed perfectly at ease at Paulie's or at the junior high ball fields, and never seemed to lament the fact that she wasn't at some fancy restaurant. Nevertheless, he was conscious of the differences between them, and perhaps even more acutely aware of the differences between him and Evan. He despised that man.
Jake might have considered throwing in the towel had it not been for the connection between him and Robin that transcended the money. When they were together, the love-making between them was ethereal. Robin had a healthy appetite and was an eager participant, willing to try almost anything a man could imagine. Every time she found her fulfillment with him, it was so open and unabashed that it
sent a shiver down Jake's spine. He was more than fulfilled; he was infused with a primal hunger for her.
There was so much to like about Robin, so much to enjoy, so much to admire, that Jake realized he was, inexplicably, and against his conscious will, falling in love with her.
Which was why, therefore, it was with some trepidation that he took her to meet what was left of his family when Easter Sunday finally came around. If anyone would send her running, it was the Mannings, and Norma Manning in particular.
In New York , Aaron sat in the Naugahyde lounge chair, his baseball cap on backward, hooked up to IVs in both arms that were pumping a shitload of cancer-fighting crap into him. He could see through the little square pane of glass in the door that Bonnie was just outside, leaning up against the wall, her head bowed. He could imagine the rest of her—one leg crossed over the other, her arms folded tightly against her middle as if she, too, might get sick. It was a pose he had seen more times than he wanted to count.
He owed her his life if he could manage to keep it. How funny that time could erase all the things he had once known about her, all the things he had once adored. But it had all come back to him these last grueling weeks, every little thing about Bonnie Lou Stanton that he had once loved so dearly. And he still loved her, he realized, maybe even more now. But it had taken an ugly cancer for him to remember.
He supposed this was God's way of shaking some sense into a man who thought he was stronger than Him.
And that afternoon he felt the sickness slowly moving through him, and he vowed on his very own life that if God granted him another chance at life, he would make it up to her. He would honor and cherish her like a queen.
He did not allow himself to think that he might have already squandered all the chances God was going to give him.
Easter fell unusually late that spring, but that Sunday morning dawned clear and beautiful, the air still cool from the night Gulf breezes. But by the time Jake arrived at Robin's, the humidity was setting in to stifle the day.
Robin didn't seem to notice—she was awfully bubbly. She had been in Burdette yesterday, working with Girt, and when she returned to Houston around six she had phoned to tell him that Reba had reached Bowling Nirvana, just like him, having scored a 200. Then she had added that she was having dinner with Evan to go over some figures.
“On a Saturday night?” Jake had asked, despising himself for sounding so needy.
“He's got to go to New York tomorrow, so this is the only time I can catch him. I'll call you when I get home, okay?”
Except that she didn't call when she got home, didn't call until this morning, apologizing profusely for having gotten in so late. Jake did not ask why, didn't really want to know why. No, actually he did, but he didn't think he had the right to know, and he damn sure didn't think he could
stomach it. Their relationship was, as he saw it, on unstable footing. On the one hand, Robin seemed to enjoy each moment with him as much as he enjoyed spending time with her, seemed to want to be with him. But he never felt the same level of commitment from her. In fact, there were times it felt as if she might flit away at any moment. Then the next moment he'd believe wholeheartedly she wanted what he wanted—a family, a house, a life.
Robin came bouncing out the door with a large paper bag, her face a wreath of smiles. “Look—Easter eggs! Grandma made them for me.”
Jake peered into the bag, saw what looked like a dozen hard-boiled, painted eggs. “Ah… great.”
She stuffed the bag and her purse behind the truck's bench seat and got in. “Do I look all right?” she asked.
“You look beautiful, Robin,” he said, meaning it.
She beamed. “T hank you. But what about the shoes?” she asked wiggling a pink sandal.
For a man who could count the pairs of shoes he owned on one hand, it seemed a rhetorical question. “What about them?”
“I mean, do they go?”
He looked at her slim-fitting capri pants and fitted blouse and shrugged. “I guess.”
She groaned, rolled her eyes. “Jake, a little help here? I'm really nervous.”
“Nervous?” He laughed. “Why?”
“Because I want to make a good impression!”
“Oh my—Baby, you'll knock 'em dead.” He laughed again, baffled how a woman like Robin Lear could possibly be worried what his family would think of her. The likelihood was much greater that Robin would be the one to be appalled.
But in fact, his trepidation was misplaced—it was his mom who seemed almost appalled when they arrived and Robin climbed out of the pickup truck and came striding forward. She smiled warmly, one hand gripping the paper bag with the Easter eggs, the other extended in greeting. “Mrs. Manning, it is a pleasure to finally meet you!”
Mom looked at her extended hand, took it gingerly. “Pleased to meet you,” she mumbled, and quickly let go. “Jacob? Ain't you gonna take her bag?”
Jake bent to kiss his mom's leathery cheek. “Happy Easter, Mom,” he said, taking the bag from Robin.
“I brought Easter eggs,” Robin announced hopefully, motioning to the brown bag.
Mom, in usual fashion, frowned. “We're having ham,” she said. “Hope you like ham.”
“Ah, yes! Yes, I do!” Robin exclaimed, a little too forcefully.
“Well. We better get them eggs inside,” Mom said. She paused to pull a smoke from her pocket, lit up, and exhaled as she gave Robin a quick once over before turning toward the house. Jake held out his hand to Robin. “Jacob says you work for a freight company,” she said over her shoulder.
“Yes. Lear Transport.”
Mom had nothing say to that.
“Do… do you work, Mrs. Manning?”
“Not anymore. It's all I can do to watch after Cole nowadays,” Mom said wearily and labored up the steps of her porch, opened the screen, and went inside, letting the screen door slam behind her.
God. Jake noticed, as he opened the screen door for Robin, that her smile was a little thin as she stepped across the threshold. He worried if she noticed how threadbare the carpet or dated the furniture was, or noticed the smell of turnips and stale smoke in the air.
“Yo!” he heard Zaney shout. Jesus, he was glad to hear that voice for a change. The guy had no family, and had become a permanent fixture at Jake's family gatherings.
“Hi, Zaney,” Robin said with a shy little wave.
“Robin! Look what I got!” Cole said excitedly as Jake shut the door behind them. He came rushing toward her with a new pair of sneakers that looked like spaceman shoes, definitely an appropriate addition to his already bizarre wardrobe. “Grandma got 'em for me,” he said, proudly holding them up, and Jake marveled how, in moments like this, Cole could still seem so childlike.
“Hey… sweet!” Robin exclaimed. “And huge!”
Cole grinned broadly, a rare sight.
Jake glanced up, saw his aunt Wanda and cousin Vickie, and made quick introductions. T hank goodness for Vic— she was, as usual, all smiles. “Hi, Robin! We've heard an awful lot about you!” she said, nudging Jake playfully in the ribs.
“Oh, is that right?” Robin asked, stealing a look at Jake.
“These are my kids, Elissa and Nicholas”—she paused, barked, “Kids! Get over here and say hello to Robin!” The two kids hurried to their mom's side, looked at Robin warily as she smiled down at them and wiggled her fingers in a childlike wave.
“Robin, look what else I got!” Cole called, oblivious to the introductions being made, bursting in on them so quickly that little Nicholas stumbled backward. Cole was holding a super-sized T-shirt with bright red flames licking up from the hem.
“Now that is cool,” Robin said admiringly.
“It cost twenty dollars!” he added, then disappeared again.
“Would you like something to drink, Robin? Some iced tea?” Vickie asked.
“T hank s, that would be great.”
“That's a real pretty jacket you got on there,” Vickie said as she motioned Robin to come with her. “What is that, linen?”
“Yes,” Robin said and looked over her shoulder helplessly at Jake as she followed Vickie to the kitchen.
“I saw something like that at Penney's I thought was real cute. Do you like Penney's?”
“Ah, sure,” Jake heard Robin say and placed a mental bet with himself how long it would be before she bolted.
“I think they've got some real nice stuff now,” Vickie was saying in the kitchen.
Not that Robin would know.
'They had their Easter sale last weekend, and I got Elissa a real cute little Easter dress,“ Vickie continued, as she fetched ice and tea from the fridge. ”But you know, Elissa's
at that age she doesn't like dresses. She's sort of a tomboy."
“Ah,” was all Robin could think to say, but she didn't have to look far to see where Elissa had gotten those tendencies. After all, her mom was wearing a KFLX Radio T-shirt, blue denim jeans, and caveman sandals. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly in a long ponytail that reached halfway down her back, and her bangs looked like they had been shellacked around an orange juice can.
“Now Nicholas, he's the one who's into clothes,” Vickie blithely continued. “It has to be Nike or Reebok before he'll even look at it! Do you know those sneakers cost seventy-five dollars on sale? Can you imagine paying that much for shoes'! Well, his daddy said to him, said, 'Son, when you start paying the rent around here, you can buy whatever shoes you want'—sugar?”
“—no, no t hank you.”
“—'so just forget it.' ” Vickie paused to hand Robin the glass of iced tea. “Kids are so silly,” she said cheerfully. “So. How long you been dating Jacob?”
Talk about getting right down to brass tacks. Robin sipped her tea. “A little while now, I guess.”
“Is it serious?” Vickie all but whispered behind her glass of tea.