Rescue Me (20 page)

“Yes, you did. If you two practice, you’re going to start hitting the ball more and more. That’s how I got better when I played softball.”

“Can you practice with us?” Jasmine asked, her eyes bright as Fourth of July sparklers.

“I, uh, sure,” Renee answered, looking to Alex.

“We can practice at my house, in the backyard, huh, Daddy?” She turned to Alex.

“I’m sure Ms. Moore is busy, Pumpkin.”

“Not too busy,” Renee said. Seeing the girls play today had brought back some of the few happy memories she had from childhood when she’d belonged to a biddy baseball team. It would be fun to help the girls learn the game. Not to mention the opportunity she would have to get closer to Alex.

“Kayla, I thought I told you to meet me at the car,” that Leslie woman said as she stalked up to them.

“Mom, guess what? Mr. Holmes’s girlfriend is going to help us practice hitting balls.”

“Ms. Moore’s not Daddy’s girlfriend,” Jasmine said. “Are you, Ms. Moore?”

Alex looked to Renee. She looked right back at him. Leslie stared at them both, her arms crossed over her surgically altered breasts, a catty smile tipping up the corners of her mouth.

“Yes,” Alex answered. If Jasmine’s inquiry had not already rendered Renee speechless, Alex’s answer would have. “Ms. Moore is my girlfriend,” he continued. “Kayla, Jasmine will call you later to let you know when Ms. Moore will be by the house to help you practice.”

The look in Leslie’s eyes could stop a freight train. “Come on, Kayla,” she bit out.

“Bye, Jasmine,” Kayla said as her mother dragged her toward a blue SUV.

When Renee looked down at Jasmine, the little girl was staring at her with excitement and awe dancing in her eyes. “Are you and Daddy getting married?” Jasmine asked.

“No—”

“No!”

“But you’re Daddy’s girlfriend,” Jasmine stated, as if she was trying to get things clear in her mind.

“Uh, yes,” Renee answered. Maybe Alex should have waited until he had the chance to discuss things with Jasmine before just blurting out their new relationship status. Renee could have used a heads up herself.

“Why don’t we go for ice cream to celebrate the game?” Renee suggested.

“But we lost,” Jasmine said.

“But you scored a run,” Renee reasoned. “That’s cause for celebration. And while we’re there, your dad and I can talk over a few things with you. How does that sound?”

Jasmine shrugged. “Okay. I can get two scoops?”

Renee looked to Alex.

“Sure,” he said, his expression confounded.

“Good, then let’s get out of here. We’ll all get two scoops and have a nice, long talk,” Renee said.

“So Ms. Moore is your girlfriend, but you don’t want to tell anybody?” Jasmine licked along the side of the cone, catching the rivulet of chocolate cookie dough ice cream that had escaped.

“It’s not that we don’t want anyone to know,” Alex said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with Ms. Moore and me being more than friends.”

“Your dad wants to make sure you know that I’m not trying to take your mother’s place or anything,” Renee added.

“My mommy is dead,” she said slowly, as if she were explaining this to a set of six year olds, instead of the other way around.

“So you’re okay with Daddy and Ms. Moore seeing each other?” Alex asked again.

“Yes,” Jasmine answered. “I told you that already.”

Well, that was easy enough. After their conversation last night, he had not expected kicking and screaming, but he was still surprised at Jasmine’s acceptance of the situation. Maybe it was simpler in a six year old’s black and white way of looking at the world. Maybe he should take a hint from his daughter.

“Is Ms. Moore coming to Uncle Eli and Auntie Monica’s wedding?” Jasmine asked.

“Maybe you should ask Ms. Moore that,” Alex said, looking pointedly at Renee.

“I’m not sure, but I’m thinking about it,” Renee answered, spearing Alex a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing.

Alex decided to press harder. “We have to convince her,” he said.

“Daddy will pay for everything,” Jasmine offered as incentive. “Right, Daddy?”

“Of course I will.”

“See?” Jasmine said, as if that should settle it.

“I’m thinking about it,” Renee said again. “Give me a few days to think some things over.”

Alex leaned over to whisper loudly in Jasmine’s ear, “I think she’s going to say yes.”

“Me, too,” Jazz returned in that same loud whisper.

Renee looked at them both and burst out laughing. “I have to be careful around you two. I’ve got the feeling you’re trying to tag team me.”

“You’ve got that right,” Alex said.

Margo wet the tips of her fingers with the muddy water and brought them back to the base of the rapidly spinning lump of clay. She pulled in a breath, letting the now familiar mixture of wet and baking clay smells soak into her lungs. The pottery wheel moved at lightning speed, the makings of a bowl or vase or pitcher forming before her eyes. She still wasn’t sure where she wanted to go with this piece. It was the story of her life these days, not knowing which direction she should take.

“I’m worried about Alex,” Margo said. “He’s been volunteering at Jasmine’s school for weeks, but we haven’t really discussed how things have been going.”

“Maybe he wants to handle things on his own, without your input,” Gerald answered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

“Just what I said, maybe your son wants to handle his own business without your input.”

Margo opened her mouth, then shut it, not all that certain she could control what would come out if she chose to speak.

“Say it,” Gerald encouraged with an indulgent sigh.

“I have nothing to say,” she answered, focusing on her pottery wheel.

The hourglass shaped vase on his wheel was nearly complete. He’d never veered from his course. Using the sketch he’d drawn at the beginning of the class, Gerald had efficiently and methodically created a thing of beauty from the fat lump of clay the teacher had plopped on the base of the pottery wheel.

“Fine, I’ll say it,” Gerald continued. “It’s none of my business.”

“That is not what I was going to say, for your information.”

“Yes, it is,” he laughed.

“You think you know me so well.”

He nodded. “I might not know everything, but I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the past year.”

“We’ve only been seeing each other a little over seven months,” Margo argued.

“But it’s been a year since we met,” Gerald reminded her.

“Goodness, you’re right,” Margo answered. “It was Halloween.”

“I was trick or treating with my granddaughter, and you let her use your bathroom.”

“And the poor thing nearly peed on the floor, trying to wrestle out of that Tinkerbell costume.”

His head flew back and his rich laugh turned the heads of some of the other students in the pottery class. He had a wonderful laugh, deep and full of humor. And sexy.

Margo looked on with wonderment as his strong fingers gently worked the wet clay. His touch was so light, so tender, coaxing the clay into shape.

“You never finished telling me about your surprise party,” he said.

“It was just as Monica and I had planned, we were even able to get the second line brass band I wanted.”

“Did your boys buy your surprised look?”

“Oh yeah. They have no idea I helped to plan the entire thing,” she laughed.

“I wish I could have been there,” he said.

Margo sobered. Gerald’s absence was the only disappointment with her surprise party, and it had affected her enjoyment of the event more than she thought it would. She’d spent most of the party thinking about how she couldn’t wait to tell Gerald about it. She shouldn’t have had to go back and tell him. He should have been there by her side, sharing in the celebration.

“How are your grandbabies doing?” she asked, turning her attention back to her wheel, and away from the guilt that continued to mount within her.

“They’re doing fine. A’naire is being honored at a banquet next month because of some state test. Her scores were the highest in the county.”

“That’s wonderful, Gerald. You should be proud of how they’ve adjusted to living out there.” Gerald’s oldest daughter, Layla, and her husband had moved their children to Atlanta after Hurricane Katrina. Margo knew it was hard for him to be so far away; he’d adjusted pretty well, too.

“I am, but I’d rather have them here,” Gerald replied. “How would you feel if Alex moved Jasmine to Georgia?”

Anxiety tightened Margo’s chest just at the thought of her grandbaby living four states away. “I get your point,” she said.

“Financially, they’re better off,” he reasoned. “Still, it’s hard not having family around all the time.”

“You’ve got me,” Margo said. “And, eventually, you’ll have my family.”

“Will I?” he asked.

“Yes,” Margo said. “I’ve put off telling my family about us for far too long. I want to tell them after Eli’s wedding.”

Gerald reached across his wheel and covered her mud splattered fingers with his equally dirty hand.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” Margo continued. “Most men wouldn’t put up with me the way you have.”

“I know a good thing when I see one,” Gerald answered. “You’re worth it.”

Margo’s heart melted right then and there. She was dangerously close to falling in love with this man. As smothering as the guilt had been when she’d first starting seeing him, Margo could no longer deny the multitude of sensations that rumbled through her bloodstream every time she was around him. Not just when she was around him, but all the time. Whenever she thought about Gerald, which was nearly every minute of the day, her entire being sang. She’d felt this way only one other time in her life. Years ago, with Wesley.

Wes, please don’t be angry with me
, Margo silently pleaded with her husband. In a lot of ways he was still her best friend, the one she turned to when she needed to talk to someone. His spirit was always there.

Margo wasn’t surprised at the sense of peace that washed over her. Wesley wanted her happy. And that’s how Gerald made her feel. Happy.

The instructor walked up to their station. “You’ve got great technique,” she said. She had to have been talking to Gerald because the misshapen mound of wet clay sitting on Margo’s wheel required no technique at all.

“Thank you.” Gerald accepted the teacher’s praise with his usual grace. She was probably a couple of years younger than Margo, with a long braid of graying hair that hung down the middle of her back. If she were not already so sure about the depth of Gerald’s feelings, Margo would have been jealous of the looks the teacher continued to throw his way.

It happened often when they were out. It was expected. Gerald was phenomenally handsome. His tailored suits and ridiculously expensive car only added to his appeal for most women. Those things didn’t mean much to Margo. It was the way he made her feel that continued to draw her in. He made her feel wanted again. With Gerald she was more than just a mother, or a grandmother. She was a woman.

She was a
woman
. She had a right to share her life with a man who loved her. Nothing else mattered—not whether her boys were ready to face the thought of her dating again or the way the women at the church would view her if she introduced them to her new boyfriend. The only thing that mattered was that Gerald loved her, and she loved him.

“I’m not sure how I’ll survive an entire week without seeing you,” she said once the teacher had floated over to another set of students.

“Tell me about it,” Gerald answered. “You’d better make sure you pack the battery charger for your cell phone, because I’m going to call you like crazy.”

“Do you know how much international calls cost?” Margo said.

“I don’t care. I’m calling you every single day, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

She smiled at him across the wheel. “I wish you could come to Eli and Monica’s wedding,” she said. “I really do.”

“You’re just saying that because you know I can’t go,” he laughed.

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t tease me. Remember, I’m the boss. I can say to hell with the case I’m working on and hand it off to one of the associates.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Margo reasoned.

“Don’t be so sure,” he said. “It’s going to be hell knowing you’re so far away.”

She felt the same way. The realization hit Margo right in the center of her chest. She craved this man. It had become harder and harder to hide their relationship because Margo found herself wanting to be with him more and more.

“It’s only five days,” Margo said. “We’re flying down there on a Friday evening. I’ll be back home by that next Wednesday morning.”

The teacher came back, carrying a flat spatula. “I think
this one is ready for the kiln,” she said. She slipped the spatula under the vase and lifted it, carrying Gerald’s creation to the small open oven that would fire it solid.

“It’s still a long time for you to be away,” Gerald said. “That good bye kiss will have to be something else if it’s going to carry me for five days.”

Margo laughed at her good fortune. There were so many women who would be more than willing to hand their bodies over to him. Younger women. More beautiful women. Women who wouldn’t have a problem introducing him to their families.

“Why do you put up with me?” Margo decided to ask.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A legitimate one,” she answered. “You have to admit I haven’t been the ideal … companion,” she said. Look, she still had a problem thinking of herself as his girlfriend. “I refuse to tell my children about you, and the furthest you’ve gotten with me is kissing. There are dozens of women who would give you so much more. Several in this room,” Margo said, thinking about the teacher.

“Are you trying to tell me that I should look for another woman?”

“Of course not,” she said with more force than she’d anticipated. The thought of him with another woman made her crazy. “I just want to know why, Gerald. Why do you put up with me?”