Temporary Father (Welcome To Honesty 1) (3 page)

Eli was her responsibility, Eli with his moods
and needs and their lack of a home to call their own. So why had she invited Aidan to join them in a hot-dog fest?

She wiped her palm across her forehead. Had the temperature grown warmer today, or had she backed herself into a hot corner? Lunch would be safe, with Eli and Van to keep an eye on her. Aidan, way out of her league, would see she had other priorities.

She took her phone out of her purse and dialed Van’s home number. In a second, her son answered, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. He must be slaying aliens.

“Hey, buddy,” she said.

“Can’t talk, Mom.”

Alien massacres for sure. “I asked Uncle Van’s friend over for lunch, and I wanted to warn you guys. Will you let your uncle know?”

“I’m not sure where he is.” His movement made Van’s leather sofa grumble. “I think I hear him in his office. He might be on the phone, too. I’ll tell him if he comes out.”

“Good enough. See you in a little while.”

“Okay.” He started to hang up. The phone hit the receiver, but then he was talking again. “Mom, did you go by Gross’s Sporting Goods?”

Her heart broke. She lied to her son because she couldn’t stand telling him no again. “I forgot you wanted me to, son. Maybe we can look together sometime this week.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t afford what I want anyway.”

She was failing her son, and all avenues of escape seemed to be disappearing. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay. Mom?”

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She gritted her teeth. “It’s normal to be upset you can’t have what you want.”

“I understand why, though.”

Something was wrong. All the more reason not to play sighs-and-smiles with her temporary neighbor.

A
IDAN SKIPPED
the hot-dog fest. Not that he didn’t want hot dogs or another few minutes with the first woman who’d made him feel alive in eighteen months.

At around dinnertime, he’d stood on the weathered gray deck of the cottage, scenting the delicious aroma of a grill at work—wanting to go—but Beth obviously hadn’t wanted him to show up.

In the end, he’d lost himself in the business channels on the satellite, pretending that catching up on the news he’d missed was just as much fun. Which probably explained why he’d fallen into a deep sleep on the fat, blue-and-white plaid sofa.

Something thudded into the door a little after six
in the morning. Aidan’s eyes opened and he gasped a deep breath. He rolled his head on a sofa cushion, not recognizing the tick of the clock, the rough scratch of the upholstery or the deep, thick silence of no-one-else-at-home.

He’d hardly slept since the heart attack. Not that he was avoiding Madeline’s accusing face in his dreams. He did try to sleep.

He pulled on sweats and padded to the front door. Outside,
The Honesty Sentinel
lay on the rug. He picked it up, sliding it out of its plastic sleeve.

His father was the one who’d persuaded the nurses to hide newspapers from him. Aidan had put his foot down the day his mother had tried have his television removed. No CNN? No CNBC? She and his father had retired from running the business eight years ago, but they still kept in touch with the business world.

She was trying so hard to cut him off from it, she must want him dead.

He caught up on the print news of the past ten days, licking his lips every so often in a craving for coffee. The hospital staff had cut him back to one cup a day.

After a caffeine headache that had lasted the first half of his hospital stay, he anticipated the lone, large, rich cup. Every lunchtime, he sipped, making the treat last.

Putting that boon off took all his concentration. He checked his watch. At seven on a Tuesday morning, his mother would be up, also scouting for coffee
before she went to the office. He dialed, and a severe British voice answered.

“I’m not sure Mrs. Nikolas is available. May I deliver a message for you to your mother?”

“Tell her she won’t avoid my questions about the business by pretending she’s asleep.”

“Oh, let me have it, Simon.” His mother’s impatience stabbed at the quiet. “You’re supposed to be resting, Aidan.”

“What goes on with the Skyliner deal? It’s not in the papers.”

“How’d you get a newspaper?”

“Mother, I ran Nikolas Enterprises by myself until—” Even the memory of that day made him feel mortal. “Tell me what’s happening. Dragonlawn—have they agreed to our terms? I want to start R&D on the redesign of their residential lawn mower. That’ll be a quick profit.”

“Aidan, I cannot listen to this. Put down the newspaper. Turn off your TV. Lay off the coffee, and go for a walk.”

“I haven’t touched caffeine, and obviously you haven’t, either. Tell me what’s going on or I’ll browbeat the staff into filling me in.”

“You’d have to fire them. Your father and I have warned everyone in the building they’re not to worry you about work.”

“I’m bored out of my mind.” He tightened his grip on the phone. “If somebody doesn’t tell me
what’s happening, I’ll fire the whole damn company and start over with loyal associates.”

“I’m sure they’ll be terrified. God knows I am.” His mother turned away from the phone. “Thank you, Simon.” She sipped loudly in Aidan’s ear. “Ahh, that’s better. Look, we’re fine. Work’s going well. I’ll let you know if your empire starts to crumble.”

“Let me talk to Dad.”

“Sorry. He’s already headed to the car.”

“Tell him to call me on his cell.”

“No.”

“No?”

“And I’ll tell him not to answer if you call. Between Madeline and a heart attack, we’ve been on the verge of losing you for the past year. I’m tired of being afraid, and I don’t care that you’re forty-two. You’re still my child. Have a good day, darling.”

Aidan pressed his fist to the granite counter. The expensive bag of coffee beans he’d stashed in the cupboard above the fridge sang a siren’s song. Bourbon would be even better.

Anything to dull the humiliation. He saw his car keys on the table. There must be a SuperComputer store in town.

They sold laptops.

S
MOKE
. Eli kept smelling smoke. In his hair, on his shirt and his jeans. Standing in the tall grass at the
edge of his uncle’s yard, he slapped at his clothes and his head. The smoke followed him like a shadow. It wouldn’t leave him alone.

No one else ever noticed because it wasn’t real.

He smelled it because he felt guilty—and that scared him bad.

Lucy jumped up, whining as she clawed at his arm. He pointed toward the edge of the lake where the grass grew taller. That shouldn’t stop a Lab. “Your ball is over there.”

She jumped at his hand instead.

He grabbed her and dropped to his knees, still hugging her. With his head close to her ear, he said it. “I set the fire.”

They all thought it was lightning from the storm that day, but Lucy knew the truth. He confessed to her at least once a day, and she loved him anyway. He only half believed she didn’t know what he was saying. Telling her made him feel better for a few minutes.

His mom thought he was upset because she’d left his father two years ago. Sure he wanted her and his dad together. Except he could do without the yelling. His dad’s yelling—and then the horrible sound of his mom whispering to his father to keep his voice down.

He couldn’t figure out why he was always madder at his mom.

Eli buried his face in Lucy’s silky ear. She nipped at his hand. She never bit—just held his fingers in
her mouth. He burrowed deeper, smelling Lucy and sunshine. He didn’t want even her to see him cry.

In the darkness of her fur and his closed eyes, he saw the cigarette again, a white tube with a glowing red top. The blackened match he’d thrown in his garbage can. It must not have been out.

The night before, his mom had been ranting through a news report about kids his age smoking. Sometimes the high school kids came by the lodge and tried to buy cigs. His mother threw them out. She could guess any guy’s age.

A lot of kids smoked at the middle school. After his mom had blown up like a maniac, he’d scored one from Billy Thorpe, and then he’d tried it in his room after school.

It had made him throw up. At the time, he’d been grateful for the lightning and hail and thunder that had covered the sounds.

He’d come out of the bathroom to find his room on fire. It had to have been that match. Or the cigarette.

They said a lightning strike had set the fire, but he couldn’t remember where he’d left the cigarette.

Sometimes that night happened all over again in his mind. He rubbed his hands as flames jumped at them again. The fire had eaten his blanket when he’d tried to smother it. It had flown across the papers and books on his desk. He hadn’t been able to make it stop.

As he’d turned, flames had already started on his DVD player and his video games. Black smoke had
wrapped him as fast as he could move. He’d started for the door, but pictured his mom standing out there, waiting to hate him.

He’d jumped out his window, slid across the green tin porch roof and then dropped onto the grass. Trying to hide from another clap of thunder, he’d yelled for his mother and run back inside, where Lucy was barking at the smoke that hovered, waiting to attack from the top of the stairs.

“Get out, get out,” his mom had shouted from the landing.

“I can’t.” He couldn’t leave her to fight his mess. He’d gone up and dragged her back down. They’d both hauled Lucy out by her collar.

By the time the fire trucks arrived, they’d all been covered in black soot, he and his mom hugging each other in the rain. Both crying, though she’d never cried before or since.

No one had noticed his burned hands that day. When his mom had grabbed him by both of them the next morning, he’d said he’d burned himself going back for her.

Guilt had made her face different—like she hurt. Maybe that was why something had been chewing on his guts ever since.

“Y
OU ASKED
A
IDAN
over here for
hot dogs
and you didn’t tell me?”

“Hold it down, Van. Eli will hear that you’re upset with me.” She laid a piece of salmon on the grill. Mrs. Carleton’s sister was still sick and Beth felt safe taking liberties with her kitchen.

“Don’t use your son to shut me up. I told you to stay away from Nikolas.”

“I didn’t say a word about a loan. You’re right. I can’t ask him for help.”

Van opened the fridge and brought back spinach and feta. “You sound upset.”

“I am.” She shrugged. “He could have been the answer to my prayers. Instead, I’m still looking.”

“Are you all talking about that guy in the cottage?”

Beth and Van turned.

“Did you meet him, too, Eli?” Van asked.

“I’ve seen him going in and out.” Eli crossed the kitchen and plucked a grape tomato off the cutting board. “I can see the cottage from my window.”

Beth passed him another tomato. “We’re supposed to leave him alone. Uncle Van says he’s here because he’s been sick and he needs quiet to get better.”

“I think you should date him, Mom.”

“Huh?” Beth turned, and the salmon she’d been in the process of flipping, splatted onto the floor.

“You should date him.”

“No, she shouldn’t,” Van said. “What are you talking about, Eli?”

“I heard you. Mom wants to talk to him. It’s time you started dating again, and if he knows you, Uncle Van, he must have the bucks.”

“Eli.” Beth bent to clean up the salmon. It slipped out of her hands. “Date him? Where’s that coming from?” Two tries later, she scooped up the fish and dropped it into the sink.

“I told ya. You need money. He has it. We’d be okay if you went out with someone like that guy.”

“We have all the bucks we need, and that’s no reason to date anyone. I don’t understand you. For the past three years, any time a guy’s looked twice at me, you’ve been upset. When those men who stayed at the lodge left a big tip behind, you thought they were trying to come on to me.”

“That was before we found out they tore the mantel off the fireplace in their room.” A shrug made him look a decade older. “You need a life, Mom. I feel like a bug under your microscope, and I’m old enough to know you should be interested in guys. I
don’t expect you and Dad to get back together anymore.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to matchmake for you, Eli. You’re creeping me out.”

“Most divorced moms date. My friends’ moms do.”

“When the guy is right. And the time. I have to get us back into our own house.”

“You worry all the time.” He grabbed the plates and silver she’d stacked on the counter. “I’ll set the table.”

Stunned silence thickened in the kitchen as he rushed to the dining room. Beth turned to Van, still clutching the oily spatula. “That was too many firsts. I should date, I need a life and he’s setting the table without being asked.”

“He’s hiding something. He thinks by going after you, he can keep hiding it.” Van popped a tomato into his mouth and turned toward the dining room door. “Sucks to be Eli.”

“Wait.” She almost lost another piece of salmon. “What are you going to do?”

“Drill for the truth.”

“He’s been fragile since the fire.”

“Which is why I want to know why he’s trying to find you a man.” Van paused, his hand on the door. “He’s been sullen and aloof and he avoids us. None of that is like Eli.”

So she wasn’t the victim of single-parenting paranoia. “Okay, try, but don’t upset him.”

“He’s my nephew.”

She set down the spatula and urged him through
the door. These days she couldn’t tell if Eli didn’t want to talk to her or just didn’t want to talk. They were both lucky Van would step in for Campbell, who grew less paternal as each day passed.

Her brother spoke first. Her son answered. She couldn’t tell what they were saying. She leaned on the counter, a knife in one hand, a tomato in the other, trying to hear.

If Van discovered anything earthshaking, he’d tell her. She finished the salmon, mixed greens, tomatoes, feta, almonds and vinaigrette into a salad and hurried into the dining room.

She stopped at the sight of Van and Eli, reading sections of the newspaper. No tantrum from Eli protesting his uncle’s nosiness. Nothing but normal.

Normal seemed off.

“Here we go.” Crossing behind her son, she lifted both eyebrows at Van, but he shook his head. She set the salad beside Eli and the salmon in the middle of the table. “It’s not much for lunch. I should have made rice or something.”

“This looks great,” Van said.

Eli grunted, which was more like him. Beth scooped up the newspaper and carried it to the kitchen when she went back for drinks. She poured a glass of milk for Eli and tea for Van and her.

Eli followed his usual method—eat, eat and eat some more, until even the salad vanished into distant memory. Then he ran for the front door. He spent every moment of each free day outside with Lucy.

“I forgot to tell him we have to work on the lodge today.”

“Leave him here.”

“He ought to help. It’s his house, too.”

“I know.” Van stretched to see through the elaborately draped windows. “But Lucy might do him more good than work. I couldn’t get anything out of him except what he told us both, but something’s wrong. I was sure he wanted you and Campbell back together.”

“Me, too.” She shuddered. “Don’t most children dream of reuniting their parents?”

“That bastard should have gone to jail. He still doesn’t pay child support half the time.”

“Shh.” She glanced toward the door, half expecting Eli to return.

“Beth, listen.” Van turned her away from the window.

“Yeah?”

“I have to leave for Chicago tonight. I hate to go during Eli’s spring break, especially when he’s acting strange.”

She wondered if his trip had something to do with his business troubles. “Van, can I just say one thing?”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t fool her. He was worried. “You don’t have to protect us. I appreciate your help, but this isn’t like with Cassie.” Guilt had ruined his marriage, although they’d truly loved each other. “I’m going to be okay, and so is Eli.”

“You don’t have to assume everything that bothers me leads straight back to Cassie,” he said. “You and Eli are my family now.”

“It’d be more strange if he weren’t acting different. It hasn’t been that long since the divorce in child years, and then there was the fire and now he has to get along with standoffish kids at his new school. But please try not to worry. If you don’t stop taking care of us, you’ll never have time for a family of your own.”

“Maybe Eli’s right. You do need to date someone. Just don’t ask Aidan for help on the lodge.”

She wasn’t likely to forget seeing Aidan at the doctor’s office, enraged because he had to continue taking life easy. “You don’t have to worry about that.” He’d been wearing jeans and a black sweater that only made him seem longer and leaner. “Not that he makes a convincing invalid.”

The doorbell rang. Van glanced that way. “But look in on him once in a while, just in case. I’ll be away for a week.”

“A fine job for the angel of death,” she said, teasing. The bell rang again.

Van kept on stacking plates and silverware, cracking only a small smile at her jab. “I’ll do these since you cooked. You can answer the door.”

Not one who fought for a chance to wash up, Beth headed for the hall. She opened the front door to find Eli and Lucy facing Aidan Nikolas. Aidan had Lucy by the paw.

“Nice to meet you,” he was saying.

“Morning,” Beth said, hoping Eli wouldn’t notice her voice had dropped low. Forbidden, unattainable fruit tended to take a woman’s breath away.

“Hi.” Aidan let Lucy go and the dog positioned herself in front of Eli, the picture of canine good manners and protectiveness.

Beth would have preferred to see Eli and Lucy tumbling down the hill with several of his friends. “Come in,” she said. “Eli, you met Mr. Nikolas?”

“And I made Lucy shake hands with him.”

“Why don’t we invite a couple of your buddies over to play? I’m going to work on the lodge, but Uncle Van won’t mind, and when I get back we can barbecue.”

“No, thanks.”

He sounded cheerful, but he hadn’t asked to have friends over in weeks. He hadn’t visited his buddies in the old neighborhood, either. Before she could say anything else, he patted Lucy’s head and spun toward the steps.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Nikolas. See ya later, Mom.” He shot her an encouraging glance that included their guest.

Blushing, she prayed Aidan hadn’t seen. Eli had never been impressed with material things—other than a sweet skateboard and the latest cool game. He probably didn’t realize his father had come from money until he’d run through it and alienated his own parents.

“Is your brother at home?”

Aidan’s voice penetrated. She pried her gaze away from Eli and Lucy. “Van’s inside. Come on in.”

She led him to the kitchen, where Van turned, dripping suds on the floor. “I’ll finish,” she said. “Mr. Nikolas—” calling him by his first name was surprisingly difficult “—Aidan wants to speak to you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Aidan held out one hand. “I wanted to thank you in person, Van, for letting me use the cottage.”

“No problem.” Van dried off on a tea towel before he shook his friend’s hand and sent Beth a sharp look. She almost laughed after Eli’s brow-waggling performance. “Join us up here any time you want. Use the pool—it’s heated.”

“Thanks.” Aidan stopped, and even Beth felt him glance her way.

Van took a step forward, as if to snatch his attention by the throat. “Have you eaten? We still have some salmon.”

“No, thanks.”

Stiff silence fell. Beth fingered a spot of water off the counter.

“If you’re sure,” Van said. “Beth tells me you met the other night while she was running.”

“She didn’t tell you I was choking?”

“Were you?” She pretended to know nothing about his health.

“No, but you burst out of the shrubbery as if you were searching for someone to resuscitate.”

“I’ve recently updated my CPR certificate.” Beth tried to laugh off his embarrassment. She might not get men. She might not trust her own instincts where they were concerned, but she was determined to remain kind—even after Campbell. “I thought you might have been Lucy. Every so often she eats her fetch ball and we have to fish the pieces out of her mouth.”

“Oh.” For the third time in less than five minutes, a man slanted her a knowing glance. Then he turned to Van. “Maybe I will use the pool if you don’t mind.”

“Any time. Beth’s the only one who goes out there. Even Eli won’t use it without his friends, and I never seem to find the time.”

“Even though you should for your own good.” Beth stored the milk and butter in the fridge and wished she hadn’t mentioned health. Having seen the proof of his illness in the doctor’s office, she thought Aidan looked thin. His hollowed cheeks would only make him more beloved to the photographers, but here in the back of nowhere, they made a woman want to ply him with sandwiches.

“You must get some exercise at the—I believe you said you were rebuilding a fishing lodge?”

“Mmm-hmm. Wouldn’t you know it’d burn down when our busiest season is coming?”

“Did you find the magazines I left you?” Van interrupted.

Aidan nodded, but he searched the faces of both
Van and Beth. Undercurrents would be one of his specialties.

“Good. And the television controls?”

“Van, I had a minor heart attack. I won’t be needing a home defibrillator or a babysitter.”

“Good news.” Van maneuvered him toward the kitchen door. “Let me show you the walking trails we’ve put in.”

“I found them.”

“Why don’t I bring down a couple of steaks for dinner one night?” Van “helped” him through the door, making pathetically sure not to include Beth. As if she’d pitch Aidan over dinner after she’d promised not to. “I’m traveling for the next week, but maybe the week after. Can you eat steak?” Van added.

“Sure.”

His short tone made Beth shake her head. She was still shaking it when Van came back.

“He seemed a little annoyed,” Van said.

“Can you blame him? You’re his friend, but you sounded as if you’d be putting his dinner through a food processor.”

“Why are you so defensive on his behalf?”

“I just realized he really was sick and doesn’t want to be. No matter what plans Eli has for him, I’m staying out of his way.”

B
ETH CLEANED
her room and then slipped into Eli’s to tidy the obvious messes—shoes on the dresser,
discarded Xbox games scattered in front of the TV and a plate laden with apple pie crumbs.

Then she changed into warmer clothes, tucking a sweatshirt under her arm in case the weather turned chilly. She peered through the pale pink voile over her bedroom windows. Clouds had begun to gather above Van’s verdant trees.

She grabbed her sneakers and ran down the stairs. Sitting on the last step, she was tying the laces when the doorbell rang. She hobbled over, one shoe on, one foot crushing a heel, and opened the door to find Aidan cradling Lucy—who was horrifyingly still—and bloody.

Groaning, she tried to gather the dog that was like her second child. Lucy didn’t move, but blood from her head smeared Beth’s shirt.

“Don’t,” Aidan said. “That’s going to scare Eli.”

“Where is he? Please, God, tell me he’s not lying out in the woods.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you I saw him come up here. Call him. He’ll want to go with us to the vet.”

“Eli.” She managed a whisper. She’d rather suffer anything than see her son hurt. Couldn’t she take Lucy to the vet and come home with reassuring news on her condition? “She is alive?”

“I think someone shot her with a pellet gun. Probably just a graze.” As if to back up his diagnosis, Lucy opened her eyes and scrambled for freedom with a whimper that made Beth reach for her again.

Aidan twisted away. “Get your son,” he said, his voice harsh with concern.

“Eli.” Beth turned toward the stairs. “Lucy’s hurt.” Great. The delicate approach. Way to destroy a boy. “I’ll find him.” She stopped halfway up the stairs. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but should you be carrying her?”