“Just black, thanks.”
Robin normally drank hers the same way. But for some reason she couldn’t begin to fathom, she added a generous teaspoonful of sugar to her own, stirring briskly as though she feared it wouldn’t dissolve.
“I hope your trip went well,” she said, carrying both mugs into the family room, where Cole had chosen to sit.
“Very well.”
“Good.” She sat a safe distance from him, across the room in a wooden rocker, and balanced her mug on her knee. “Everything around here went without a hitch, but I’m afraid Jeff may have spoiled Blackie a bit.”
“From what he said, they did everything but attend school together.”
“Having the dog has been wonderful for him. I appreciate your giving Jeff this opportunity. Not only does it satisfy his need for a dog, but it’s taught him about responsibility.”
The front door opened and the canine subject of their conversation shot into the room, followed by Jeff, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Mom, could Mr. Camden stay and watch the movie with us?”
“Ah…” Caught off guard, Robin didn’t know what to say. After being away from home for several days, watching a movie with his neighbors probably held a low position on Cole’s list of priorities.
To Robin’s astonishment, Cole’s eyes searched hers as though seeking her approval.
“You’d be welcome…I mean, you can stay if you’d like, unless…unless there’s something else you’d rather do,” she stammered. “I mean, I’d…we’d like it if you did, but…” She let whatever else she might have said fade away. She was making a mess of this, and every time she tried to smooth it over, she only stuck her foot further down her throat.
“What movie did you rent?”
“We haven’t yet,” Jeff explained. “Mom and me had to come to an understanding first. She likes mushy stuff and gets all bent out of shape if there’s an explosion or anything. You wouldn’t believe the love story she made me watch last Friday night.” His voice dripped with renewed disgust.
“How about if you and I go rent the movie while your mother and Blackie make the popcorn?”
Jeff’s blue eyes brightened immediately. “That’d be great, wouldn’t it, Mom?”
“Sure,” she agreed, and was rewarded by Jeff’s smile.
Jeff and Cole left a few minutes later. It was on the tip of her tongue to give Cole instructions on the type of movie appropriate for a ten-year-old boy, but she swallowed her concerns, willing to trust his judgment. Standing on the porch, she watched as they climbed inside Cole’s expensive sports car. She pressed her hand to her throat, grateful when Cole leaned over the front seat and snapped Jeff’s seat belt snugly in place. Suddenly Cole looked at her; she raised her hand in farewell, and he did the same. It was a simple gesture, yet Robin felt as if they’d communicated so much more.
“Come on, Blackie,” Robin said, “let’s go start the popcorn.” The Lab trailed behind her as she returned to the kitchen. She placed a packet of popcorn in the microwave. It was while she was waiting for the kernels to start popping that the words slipped from her mouth.
“Well, Lenny, what do you think?” Talking to her dead husband came without conscious thought. It certainly wasn’t that she expected him to answer. Whenever she spoke to him, the words came spontaneously from the deep well of love they’d once shared. She supposed she should feel foolish doing it, but so many times over the long years since his death she’d felt his presence. Robin assumed that the reason she talked to him came from her need to discuss things with the one other person who’d loved her son as much as she did. In the beginning she was sure she needed to visit a psychiatrist or arrange for grief counseling, but later she convinced herself that every widow went through this in one form or another.
“He’s grown so much in the past year, hasn’t he?” she asked, and smiled. “Meeting Cole has been good for Jeff. He lost a child, you know, and I suppose having Jeff move in next door answers a need for him, too.”
About ten minutes later, she’d transferred the popcorn to a bowl and set out drinks. Jeff and Cole came back with a movie that turned out to be an excellent compromise—a teen comedy that was surprisingly witty and entertaining.
Jeff sprawled on the carpet munching popcorn with Blackie by his side. Cole sat on the sofa and Robin chose the rocking chair. She removed her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. She was enjoying the movie; in fact, several times she found herself laughing out loud.
Cole and Jeff laughed, too. The sounds were contrasting—one deep and masculine, the other young and pleasantly boyish—yet they harmonized, blending with perfect naturalness.
Soon Robin found herself watching Jeff and Cole more than the movie. The two…no, the three of them had grown comfortable together. Robin didn’t try to read any significance into that. Doing so could prove emotionally dangerous, but the thought flew into her mind and refused to leave.
The credits were rolling when Cole pointed to Jeff, whose head was resting on his arms, his eyes closed.
“He’s asleep,” Cole said softly.
Robin smiled and nodded. She got up to bring the empty popcorn bowl into the kitchen. Cole stood, too, taking their glasses to the sink, then returned to the family room to remove the DVD.
“Do you want me to carry him upstairs for you?” he asked, glancing down at the slumbering Jeff.
“No,” she whispered. “When he wakes up in the morning, he’ll think you treated him like a little kid. Egos are fragile at ten.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
The silence seemed to resound. Without Jeff, awake and chattering, as a buffer between them, Robin felt clumsy and self-conscious around Cole.
“It was nice of you to stay,” she said, more to fill the silence than because she had anything important to communicate. “It meant a lot to Jeff.”