Jake fetched the quilt.
Robin smiled, gathered it against her chest, then lifted up on her toes and kissed him. “Go get a beer somewhere.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“Yes. Go on. Come back in an hour or so.”
Jake looked at the closed door, shook his head. “I don't know if that is a good idea—”
“You have a better one?”
Touche. “Okay, fine,” he said and grabbed a jacket and his helmet. “But I will be back in an hour—”
“and a half—”
“—and if he hasn't straightened up by then, I'll… Shit, I don't know what I'll do.”
Robin gave him a patient smile, motioned toward the door. “Go on.”
“Fine,” Jake muttered irritably and stalked out the door, feeling completely helpless. At the local watering hole, he nursed a beer and brooded about the situation, coming to no conclusion, other than the fact that he and Cole might as well be speaking Chinese. They were that far apart, on opposite ends of the world. And he hated involving Robin in this ugly little family matter—he would just as soon she
never know how truly dysfunctional they were. But for some reason, she was the only one Cole seemed able to talk to. Nonetheless, he didn't like the thought of her exposed to the surly little monster for too long, and left his beer unfinished, heading back home after one hour.
The house looked asleep when he parked his bike in the old detached garage. He walked around to the front door, paused there, listening for where the two of them might be. Silence. Robin's car was in the drive, so they hadn't gone anywhere. Jake wandered through the house, checking the various rooms and finding no one. Cole's room was empty. So was his. In the kitchen, he scratched his head, tried to think of where they might be, and then noticed the back door was ajar.
He walked to the door and pulled it open, peering out the screen door to the darkened backyard, trying to see in the shadows.
When he saw them, his breath caught in his throat and he felt a wave of intense longing come over him.
On freshly mowed grass, Robin had stretched a quilt, and she and Cole were lying on top of it, side by side, staring up at the stars, pointing to various things in the sky. Jake watched them, blinking back the sting in his eyes, wondering how she had known to bring Cole something so simple and so comforting, how she had lured a boy on the verge of manhood to a child's pleasure. After several minutes, he pushed open the screen door and walked outside, down the steps of the back porch, and across the lawn.
“I see it!” Robin exclaimed, pointing to the east. “See it? It looks like a hat or something, see it?”
“That doesn't look like a hat!” Cole scoffed.
“Okay, then what?”
Cole considered it for a moment. “Uncle Jake's nose!”
He and Robin laughed together. Jake said nothing as he reached the quilt, just lay down next to Robin. She turned her head and smiled, then resumed pointing. “Okay, your turn, Cole.”
And Cole, either over his anger or oblivious to Jake, be-
gan to call out what shapes he saw. “I see a train… a basketball hoop…”
Jake slipped his hand into Robin's; she squeezed it tightly as she laughed at one of Cole's shapes, then said, “Okay, Jake. Your turn.”
He looked up, saw a canopy of stars. “I see a moon,” he started.
“No fair!” exclaimed Cole.
“Wait… it's coming to me. A Harley,” he added, to which Cole laughed. “And a heart…”
And the three of them lay side by side until the dew began to form beneath stars Robin said were there to show them how high they could dream.
It was over dinner several days later that Jake learned the root of Cole's distress that day was the girl again, Tara, the object of his obsession. She had, once again, decided she liked another boy and it had devastated Cole. It was that slimy little Frankie who had given him the news, then had talked him into going down to the levee to smoke a joint. God, but Jake hated that kid.
“You have a way with him that I can't match,” Jake told Robin. “He's lucky to know you.”
She blushed prettily, absently twirled her spaghetti around a fork. “It's funny. I hardly know him, really, but I think I'd do just about anything to help him. He's such a good kid. A little lost, but a good kid inside. And sensitive.” She glanced up at Jake. “Like you.”
Now it was Jake's turn to blush. “He's not sensitive. He's senseless.”
“You know what would be good for him? My family's ranch. He'd really like it—there are horses and cows and dogs. It would get him out of Houston for a long weekend, anyway. And it would give you a chance to bond with him a little. We could go this weekend.”
“Yeah?” Jake said, mulling the idea over. He had never been to a ranch, but he sort of thought it might do him a
bit of good, too. “You know, that sounds like a good idea,”
he said.
“Then you'll bring Cole and come with me?” she asked. Jake nodded. “Yes. Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”
“There's only one little catch,” she said, dropping her
eyes to her plate again. “What's that?”
“My dad is going to be there.” Okay, maybe not such a great idea after all.
Aaron's insides felt gummy, like everything had melted together. Still battling the effects of the latest round of chemo, he tried to make himself comfortable in the oversized wicker armchair on the veranda as he waited for Robin to arrive. But he wasn't having much luck—even the iced tea he was drinking made him queasy.
He really needed to lie down, but Aaron was anxious to see Robin, especially after talking to Evan. Of all his daughters, Robin was, as usual, the first one to heed his advice and take it to heart. Evan said she was really coming along, pouring herself into her work and learning everything she could about the company she was about to acquire. Working from home was good for her—she wasn't traveling as much, and what traveling she did do was focused entirely on this acquisition.
Evan said she was growing as a person. Evan said she was doing great. Evan said the one thing that seemed a little odd was her infatuation with the handyman.
When her Mercedes turned onto the drive, Aaron's heart did a little flutter of anticipation, and he hauled himself to
his feet, adjusted the baseball cap that hid a frightening loss of hair. As the car drew nearer, he could see a man was driving, and smiled to himself. Evan had made the trip after all. Good. That would give him the chance to review a few things with him.
But as the Mercedes coasted to a stop on the circular drive, Aaron's eyes narrowed. That wasn't Evan. That wasn't even close to Evan.
Robin bounded out of the car, came running up the steps to throw her arms around him, causing him to grimace with pain.
“Oh, Dad, I've missed you!” she exclaimed, and reared back, peering up at him, the shock of his appearance evident in her blue eyes. “Are you all right? You look tired. Do you want to sit down?”
“You don't need to baby me,” he said gruffly and ran a shaky hand over the top of her curly head. “Good to see you, kid.”
She smiled a brilliant, dimpled smile that could light up the whole state and reminded him of his mother. He smiled, too, but it faded the moment he saw the man come up on the steps of the veranda.
Slowly, he turned his head, took the man in, from the tips of his steel-toed boots to the top of his sandy-brown hair. He was tall, an inch taller than himself, probably six feet two, maybe more. And a big man, muscular—Aaron would have guessed him a football player at some point in his life. He was a good-looking fellow, there was no denying that. No wonder Robin had experienced such a tremendous lapse in judgment.
“Dad,” she said, her voice betraying her nerves, “this is Jake Manning. And his nephew, Cole.”
That was the first Aaron had even noticed the kid.
Manning stuck out his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lear. I've heard an awful lot about you.”
Aaron's eyes narrowed. “That right? Just what did you hear?”
Robin quickly jumped in with a nervous laugh. "Dad, he
heard about you from me—you don't think he's fool enough to tell you now, do you?"
Aaron slowly shook his head, despising the man already. “No. I don't think he's a fool at all.”
Manning was too smooth to let Aaron know what he thought about that. He was expressionless, just extended his hand again. Aaron reluctantly shook it, then gestured for Robin to step aside, away from his chair, so he could sit down again. He noticed the kid was staring at him, like he had two heads or something, and scowled at him to let him know he did have two heads.
“Robin?” Bonnie called as she came out the front door, Rebecca on her heels. She eagerly embraced her oldest daughter, kissed her on the cheek. “Oh, honey, I'm so glad to see you,” she exclaimed, then looked at Jake, and damn her if she didn't smile broadly, just as broadly as Rebecca. Women.
“Who have we here?” Bonnie trilled.
Jesus Christ, impressed with a pair of pecs.
“Mom, Rebecca, this is Jake Manning and his nephew, Cole.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lear. Rebecca.” He grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pulled him around. “Cole, you want to say hello?”
The kid muttered something unintelligible, but that didn't stop Bonnie and Bec from beaming ear to ear.
“Well, it's a pleasure to have you and your nephew at the Blue Cross Ranch, Mr. Manning,” Bonnie said giddily.
“Please… call me Jake.”
Please call me Jake, Aaron mimicked behind his back.
“Well then, you must call me Bonnie!”
“So you're the one who is redoing Robin's house?” Rebecca asked.
'That's me."
“Oh, I can't wait to hear all about it!” Bonnie exclaimed. “Why don't we sit down? Would you like something to drink? Iced tea? What about you, Cole? Lupe!” she called as she simultaneously ushered everyone to seats around a large wicker table.
“Jake, tell them about the brick,” Robin said. Manning nodded like a good little puppy dog, Aaron thought, and began to tell them what he was doing to her house. Aaron sat off by himself, refusing to listen, miserably ill and even more miserably disillusioned. He watched his daughter's face as the guy talked, the way it lit up with laughter when they talked about someone named Zaney, the way she hung on every word the handyman said.
And he watched Manning, the easy way he used his hands to talk, the easy way he laughed. He could see that Evan was right—the guy was too blue collar for Robbie. She deserved much better than that, could have her pick, dammit, so what in the hell had possessed her to pick up with this guy? More important, how long would it be before she saw what he and Evan saw, what Bonnie and Rebecca would surely see once they got through drooling? That every time this Manning fellow looked at Robin, he saw one big fat dollar sign?
Too disgusted and too sick to think, Aaron finally got up to go take a nap. He gave the kid a good hard glare in the process, thought it strange that the kid sort of smiled.
All the misgivings, all the anticipation of doom he had had before coming here had been right on. Aaron Lear made him feel about as welcome as a snake.
His total lack of hospitality pissed Jake off royally, no doubt about it. But at the same time, he could (begrudg-ingly) understand it. If he were Robin's father, he'd want better for her, too. Only Lear was overlooking one very germane and fundamental fact—he loved Robin. Yet that couldn't make up for his feeling of total discomfort at Blue Cross Ranch.
First of all, the place was immaculate, more of a castle than a ranch house. It was huge, sprawling along the banks of the river, with room upon room for which he couldn't imagine the possible uses. He'd never seen such rich furnishings in his life. Overstuffed leather chairs and couches, chandeliers suspended from longhorns in the ceiling, gold-
plated fixtures everywhere. He was so nervous that Cole might break something he could not afford to replace, he dogged the poor kid, whispering at him not to touch, not to sit, not to do anything.
Robin's sister Rebecca—a very pretty woman with a soft countenance—took pity on Cole and borrowed him away from Jake for a while to take him down to the stables. Cole was eager to see horses, but even more eager to escape Jake's vigilant eye.
Which left Jake with Bonnie and Robin. They talked about the work on Robin's house, about Jake's efforts to earn a degree. He felt slightly embarrassed that he was, at thirty-eight, just now in school, but Bonnie seemed quite impressed by it and applauded him for his determination. Her praise stood in stark contrast to his own mother's conviction that it was too late for him.
When Rebecca and Cole returned from the stable— Cole's face upturned in a rare wreath of smiles (“You can touch the horses!”)—Bonnie announced they should prepare for dinner, which would be served in the south dining room at eight. Jake felt a moment of panic; but Robin quickly informed him that he needed only a collared shirt as she showed them to the guestrooms. Guestrooms. Adjoining rooms with a huge bath he and Cole would be sharing. “If that's a problem, I can borrow one from Dad,” Robin said about the shirt.
Jake quickly threw up his hand. “That won't be necessary.” That would never be necessary. He would die before borrowing anything from Aaron Lear, especially a shirt.
Robin looked at Cole and frowned slightly. “Do you have anything but T-shirts?”
Cole shook his head. “No. That's all I got.”
“Come on,” she said and took him by the hand, led him down the huge corridor, disappearing in a room beneath a large portal window. When they returned, Cole was wearing a salmon-colored button-down shirt tucked into his oversized cargo pants. He looked ridiculous, like a mango stuffed atop a cantaloupe.
But Robin seemed awfully pleased with herself, and
smiled admiringly at Cole. 'There are a few things various guests have left behind. It's a little big, but it will work, won't it, Cole?"
He turned a mortified gaze to Jake.
“Be sure and wash your hands,” Robin blithely continued, then glanced at Jake. “You, too. I'll see you downstairs,” she said and left them to finish dressing.