Chapter 5

 

After exchanging greetings with Keith, Susan knew she should have said a quick goodbye and gone on her way. But somehow, even knowing how foolhardy it was to stand there, she had been incapable of leaving.

The trouble was, it was so good to see him. And she realized, in that moment when her heart gave a glad leap at the sight of him, that she had never forgotten him.

How could she? she thought wryly.

How could she even have thought she’d forgotten him? Especially when Scott was a daily reminder of that one night of passion?

Driving home from the supermarket with Scott, she couldn’t concentrate on his chatter. Her mind played and replayed every word Keith had said, every gesture he’d made, every nuance of expression on his face.

She would have known him anywhere, even though there were significant differences in the way he looked now from the way he’d looked ten years ago. He was more mature looking, for one thing. A man instead of a boy. His hair was shorter, too, but still thick, with that blue-black sheen that had so fascinated her the first time she’d seen him.

And those eyes. Oh, God. Those eyes. They were Scott’s eyes, and yet they weren’t, for Scott’s eyes were clear, young, innocent. There was nothing young or innocent about Keith’s eyes. When he looked at her she had the feeling he could see right through her, just the way he had from the very beginning.

"Hey, mom, can me and Ryan go to the park today?"

Susan blinked, so deep into her thoughts she’d almost forgotten Scott was there. "Ryan and I," she corrected automatically. "And we’ll see." 

Grateful that he didn’t protest, her mind immediately segued back to her unexpected meeting with Keith. Throughout, her emotions had been chaotic, although she’d done her best to pretend the encounter hadn’t affected her. She hoped she’d pulled it off. She would die if she thought Keith suspected what she was really feeling. After the first shock, her overriding emotion had been fear, even as she realized the fear was irrational. There was no way Keith could suspect the truth about Scott. And yet, when he’d looked at her son, she’d wanted to grab Scott and flee, she’d been that afraid.

She shouldn’t have accepted Keith’s offer to put up that basketball hoop tomorrow. It was stupid to spend time with him. It was playing with fire, because he still had the power to affect her in ways that were dangerous to her well-being. Ten years might have passed, but nothing had changed for her. She still loved him. She still wanted him. And she could never have him.

But how could she have said no to Scott? He was so eager, so happy about meeting Keith. And it was so good to see her son enthusiastic and carefree again. For too long, he had been hurting, and if seeing Keith made him feel better, she didn’t want to be the one to take that good feeling away.

It’s only one afternoon. I’m making too big a deal out of this. I handled today’s encounter. I can handle tomorrow.

But that would be it, she decided as she turned the corner of their street. After tomorrow, she would not see Keith again. If Scott asked, she would make some excuse. And in a few weeks, there would no longer be a reason to worry. Keith would go back to Alaska, and she would never see him again.

* * *

Keith, along with the rest of his family, had been invited to dinner at Patrick Jr.’s home that evening.

“Wow,” he said upon arrival. “You’ve remodeled.”

“We had to,” his brother said. “We only had three bedrooms, and Katie really wanted a room of her own.”

Katie was now sixteen and a budding beauty, with the blonde hair of some ancestor somewhere, and the blue eyes of her father. In fact, Keith was a little stunned at how grown-up she looked. Girls grew up too fast nowadays, he thought. But she seemed like a nice girl. She was cheerfully helping Jan in the kitchen when he and Patrick walked to the back of the house.

“Hi, Keith,” Jan said. Her face was flushed, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Obviously, she’d been working hard, because the kitchen smelled wonderful and there was food in every stage of preparation on the counters and table-top.

“Hi, Uncle Keith,” chorused his nieces. They were all working at something.

Jana, twelve, and Briana, nine, were making a salad. Allene, the youngest at six, stood on a stool. The tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration as she carefully spread butter on slices of French bread. “I’m making garlic bread,” she said proudly.

“Ummm,” Keith said. “Can I have a piece?” He reached toward the cookie sheet where she’d been placing the finished slices.

“No!” she said in a horrified tone. “They’re not ready yet. They have to go in the oven.”

“Oh, I see.” Keith smothered his grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Men don’t know anything.”

She sounded so much like her mother, Keith couldn’t help it. He laughed, and so did Patrick Jr. Jan had a sheepish look on her face.

“I wonder where she heard that,” Keith said.

His other nieces grinned.

Jana said, “Girls are just smarter than boys, that’s all.”

“I’ll give you smarter,” her father said.

“Pat,” Jan said, “why don’t you get Keith something to drink and go on into the den? The others will be here soon.”

“In other words,” Patrick Jr. said, “she wants us to get out of the way.”

Within the next twenty minutes, the remainder of the family had arrived, and soon the normal division—men in the den watching ESPN, women in the kitchen bustling about—was firmly established. Keith wondered if his family would ever join the new century, and said as much.

“I help Jan all the time when we’re alone,” Patrick Jr. said indignantly. “In fact, I cook at least twice a week.”

Everyone looked at Patrick Sr. to see what his reaction would be to this piece of information.

“Nothing wrong with cooking. I like to cook, too,” he confessed. “But your mother doesn’t like giving up control of her kitchen.”

Keith and his brothers got a big kick out of this admission and teased their father for a while. During the affectionate ribbing, Sheila poked her head into the den to tell everyone dinner was ready. They all trooped into the dining room and were soon happily eating Jan’s excellent Italian feast.

“Man, this is good stuff,” Keith said around a mouthful of lasagna.

Jan smiled. “You need a wife.”

“Him!” Rose said. “They all need wives.”

“Not me,” Rory said. “I’m too young to get married.”

“Too young!” Patrick Sr. said. “I was only twenty-five when I got married, and you’re twenty-nine already.”

“Things are different now,” Rory said, looking at his brothers, who murmured agreement.

“Yeah,” Sheila said dryly. “Men are totally selfish and self-involved now, that’s what’s different.”

“Now, Sheila,” her mother said. “That’s not true.”

“You’re not out there dating, Ma,” Sheila said. “Believe me, it’s true.”

“I don’t think I’m selfish and self-involved,” Kevin said in a mock-injured tone.

“No, you’re not selfish,” Sheila returned, “you think driving a BMW convertible and going to Aruba every six months is your just due.”

“Hey, I worked hard for my money. If I want to spend it that way, it’s my business.”

"Yeah," echoed Rory.

"Playing the stock market isn’t working hard," she continued implacably. "It was fun for you. It’s like gambling. Anyway, you were just lucky."

"Smart," Kevin said, winking at Keith.

"Lucky," she insisted.

"It wasn’t luck that made him sell all his tech stocks before last year’s crash," Rory said.

“Me not being married isn’t about money or selfishness," Kevin said. "You can talk all you want about men and what you think they’re like, Sheila, but it’s not easy to find the kind of woman I want.”

“Which is?” Sheila demanded.

“Someone just like Ma.” Kevin grinned triumphantly.

“Oh, spare me.” Sheila rolled her eyes.

Keith chuckled. He realized he’d missed his family’s spirited disagreements. “Hey, squirt,” he said to Sheila, “you sound like you’re jealous of us guys.”

“Jealous! Why, I wouldn’t be a man even if you paid me. Everyone knows women are more intelligent than men. And quit calling me ‘squirt’!”

“Okay, squirt.” He laughed when she wadded up her napkin and threw it at him, and after a minute, she laughed, too. “So you’re the one who’s corrupted my nieces,” he said when everyone quieted down.

Sheila frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Keith explained about the conversation in the kitchen before dinner. Then the rest of his brothers got into the act, and before long insults were flying back and forth, with Katie and Jana joining in to help their Aunt Sheila, who they said was at an unfair disadvantage.

“To bring this conversation back to an intelligent level,” Sheila finally said, turning to her mother, “I saw Laverne Sheridan at the pharmacy this afternoon. I was shocked. She looks terrible.”

“Poor thing,” Rose said, her eyes turning soft with sympathy. “She’s taking Paul’s death hard. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child, let alone your only child.”

Sheila nodded. “I know. I felt so sorry for her. I’ll bet she’s lost at least ten pounds, and she couldn’t afford to lose any.”

“Yeah,” Rory chimed in. “I saw her last week and hardly recognized her. She looks years older.”

Rose shook her head sadly. “It’s such a shame. But thank God for her grandson.” She gave her granddaughters a loving look. “Because as long as she has him, she’ll always have a part of Paul.”

“I saw him today,” Keith said. “He’s a cute kid.”

“Yes, he is,” his mother said. She looked at Keith curiously. “Did you go over there? To Paul’s house, I mean?”

‘‘No, I ran into Susan at Kroger when I was picking up that stuff for you.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you knew Susan.”

“I met her before she and Paul got married. You know. That time I went to Austin and spent spring break with Paul.”

“Of course. That was right before you left for Alaska, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten about that. Well, she’s a lovely young woman. Laverne thinks the world of her.”

“Good-looking, too,” Kevin said.

“That’s what lovely means,” Sheila said sweetly.

“Not necessarily,” Kevin said. “It could mean she’s nice. That’s what you meant, Ma, isn’t it?”

Rose sighed. “Not another argument, okay?”

“I didn’t start it,” Kevin said.

“Enough,” Patrick Sr. said. “We all agree. Susan Sheridan is a very nice, very pretty woman, and it’s sad that she’s lost her husband at such a young age.”

Kevin obediently turned his attention back to his food, but not before winking at Keith again and saying, “See what you’ve been missing all these years?”

The talk turned to something else then, and Keith was grateful, because he’d felt uncomfortable throughout the exchange. Silly to feel that way, he knew, but he’d never liked concealing things from his family.

He kept thinking about what Sheila and Rory and his mother had said, though, especially about Paul’s mother. He decided that, even though it would be difficult, he would go to see Laverne in a couple of days.

For the rest of the meal, the talk was general and pleasant. Then, while they were in the middle of dessert—a rich chocolate cake loaded with pecans—his father turned to Keith. “I know you said you weren’t sure how long you’re going to be here, Keith, but I wish you’d think about staying permanently. We could sure use you in the business. Things are booming around here, and you know how I don’t like to hire outsiders. It’s much better to keep the work in the family.”

“You hired Jack Kinsella,” Sheila said.

“Jack is practically family,” Kevin said. Jack Kinsella was his best friend.

“Well, I am family, and he wouldn’t hire me!”

“Sheila, please,” Patrick Sr. said, “we’ve gone over this at least a hundred times, and I’m not going to change my mind. A construction crew is no place for a woman, especially one your age.”

“It’s okay for me to be in the office, though,” Sheila grumbled.

“That’s different. Being in the office isn’t dangerous. And the language is a lot cleaner.”

“You know, Dad, I’m a grown woman. I’m twenty-two, and I can take care of myself.”

Patrick Sr.’s face closed into stubborn lines. “I don’t want to discuss this further, Sheila.”

Keith looked at his sister. For a moment, he thought she was going to continue to press their father, but then her lips tightened into a stubborn scowl that matched his, and she slumped into silence. Keith bit back a smile. His fiery sister had always amused him, but he felt sorry for the guy she eventually married. She sure would lead him a merry chase.

“Well, Keith?” His father turned to him again. “Will you think about what I said?”

“Yeah, Pop, I will.” He looked around the table. All the adults were looking at him, and in every pair of eyes except Sheila’s—she was still scowling—he saw hope. He threw up his hands. “Okay. Okay. I’ll give it a lot of thought.”

* * *

Scott had a doctor’s appointment at two o’clock Tuesday, and it was three-thirty before they got back home. Susan was glad she’d told Keith to come at four. She would have hated for him to have to sit and wait on them.

“I’m gonna go change clothes,” Scott said. “’Cause I want to help Keith put up that hoop.”

“All right. While you do that, I’ll make some lemonade for you guys to drink, because it’s hot out there.” She debated changing her own clothes, then decided not to.

Keith arrived a few minutes before four. Susan’s pulse quickened at the sight of him, which first exasperated her, then made her feel guilty. What was wrong with her? Even if there weren’t other complications, Paul had been dead less than eight months, and here she was, acting like a giddy teenager.

But Keith did look so handsome, she thought as he walked toward the house. He was wearing khaki shorts with lots of pockets and a bright blue T-shirt that matched his eyes, and revealed his taut physique. Suddenly, she was very glad she hadn’t changed clothes and was still wearing the short brown and yellow print dress she’d worn to the doctor’s office, because she knew it showed off her legs to advantage and did them justice in a way shorts never seemed to.

As Keith neared the door, she quickly moved away from the window so he wouldn’t know she’d been watching him. Taking a deep breath, she composed her face before answering the doorbell.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

Her traitorous heart refused to beat calmly, especially in the face of that killer smile. “Hi. Come on in. Scott’s upstairs.”

Keith started to say something, but Scott, obviously hearing his arrival, came flying down the stairs. “Keith! You’re here!”

Keith grinned. “Ready to get started?”

“Yeah!”

Susan hadn’t heard this kind of enthusiasm from Scott since before Paul’s death, and once again, she knew she’d made the right decision yesterday. Hard as it was for her to be in Keith’s company, this was the right thing for Scott. And Scott’s well-being was a lot more important than her feelings. Especially since she was being ridiculous.

“Well, come on, let’s go get my tools out of the truck, okay?" Keith said. "And then you can show me where the hoop is.”

“Okay!”

They took off, and a few minutes later Susan carried the pitcher of lemonade outside and put it and a couple of glasses on the umbrella table on the patio. Then she walked out the gate to the garage.

“Susan. What do you think? Should I put the hoop here?” Keith pointed to the middle of the garage.

“I don’t care. Whatever you think.”

“Is that where you normally park your car?” He indicated the open garage, where her car was parked on the right side.

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe you’d rather the hoop go over here on the left side, then.”

“It really doesn’t matter. Wherever it is, it isn’t going to interfere with my parking.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I think it’ll look better in the middle.”

Once that was decided and Susan asked him if there was anything else he needed, she told them where the lemonade was, then went back into the house. She decided she would get started making a pot of chili for dinner, which meant she could unobtrusively watch Keith and Scott work from the kitchen window that overlooked the driveway.

Taking her Dutch oven out, she poured in a little olive oil, then got busy chopping onions. It took longer than usual, because she kept stopping and looking out the window. It was nice to watch Keith work. He obviously knew what he was doing. Paul hadn’t been very handy around the house, even though he’d tried. She was glad to see that Keith really was allowing Scott to help him. She knew Scott must be thrilled. Several times, she heard his laughter ring out. The laughter was good to hear, and yet in some way she couldn’t understand, it hurt her, too. The hurt was all tied up with Paul and how much he’d loved Scott and the guilt she’d never been able to banish.

When she finally finished chopping the onions, she heated the oil, then dumped in the onions, followed by ground turkey. Her mind still on the two males outdoors, she browned the meat and onions. Once that was done, she added the remaining ingredients and seasoned the mixture, then left it on low heat to simmer.

She knew it wasn’t wise to go back outside, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Keith was like a magnet, drawing her to him when he was anywhere near. After smoothing back her hair, she opened the back door and walked out to the driveway. Keith was just coming down the ladder, and the hoop was up.

“Well, I think that’s it.” He smiled at Scott, who beamed back. “Want to try it out, shoot a few baskets?”

“Yeah!” Scott said.

The look on his face as he ran into the house to get his basketball was worth any amount of discomfort Susan was feeling.

After he’d gone, her eyes met Keith’s. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Yes, it was. You made a little boy awfully happy.”

“I was glad to do it. He’s really a nice kid.”

She smiled. “Yes, I think so.”

Glancing away from her, he said slowly, “You and Paul, you did a great job with him.”

Without warning, Susan’s eyes filled with tears.

“Well, if there’s anything else you can think of—” Looking up, he broke off. “Susan, I’m an idiot.”

Embarrassed, she brushed the tears away. “No, it’s okay, I just got sad for a moment.”

He nodded slowly “I’m sorry. I miss him, too.”

She looked away. “Thank you.”

Just then Scott came through the gate. He held his basketball.

Grateful for the diversion, Susan said, “Looks like Scott’s ready.”

“Go ahead,” Keith said. “Let’s see you shoot one."

Scott missed on his first try but made the next one. Then Keith took a few shots. Soon he was showing Scott how to play one-on-one.

Susan went inside to check on her chili and make a salad. By the time she was finished, her emotions were back on an even keel. She wanted to go back outside, but she forced herself not to. Instead, she sat down at the kitchen table and leafed through the new edition of Cooking Light magazine, which was one of her favorites. But as much as she loved the magazine, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the articles, because she could hear the bounce and thwack of the ball as it hit the concrete and the laughter and good-natured shouts accompanying the game of one-on-one.

It was only when the game was over and she heard them come into the backyard that she went out to join them. Keith had downed one glass of lemonade and was pouring another. Sweat had soaked his T-shirt, and his face was red. Scott looked just as hot and wet.

“I’ll go get some towels so you guys can dry off,” she said. When she returned with the towels, the two of them had gone back out to the driveway. She walked out and saw Keith standing inside the garage. She handed him a towel and gave Scott the other one.

“What’re these?” he said, drying his face. He pointed to some boxes stacked against the inner wall.

“Oh, just some mini-blinds that I have to get installed.” Susan had been meaning to call the man who did that kind of thing for her but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Where are they going to go?”

“Upstairs, in the front bedroom. It’s the guest room.”

“I can put them in for you.”

“Oh, no. You’ve done enough.”

“Susan, it won’t take me thirty minutes to install these.” Without waiting for her to answer, he picked up the boxes. “Scott, bring my toolbox, okay? You can show me where.”

Later she would wonder what possessed her to say what she said next. But at the moment, the words just seemed to come out of her mouth with no direction from her. “The only way I’m going to let you do this is if you let me pay you back by feeding you. I made a big pot of chili. Will you stay and have dinner with us?”

“Yeah, Keith!” Scott said. “Stay and have dinner with us.”

Keith’s eyes met hers. “I’m all sweaty.”

“We don’t care!” Scott said.

“No big deal,” she said, echoing his earlier words.

“Well, in that case...” He grinned. “You don’t have to ask me twice. Chili is one of my favorite meals.”

While he was upstairs installing the blinds, Susan got the table ready downstairs. While she sliced a loaf of French bread and grated some cheddar cheese to sprinkle over the bowls of chili, she told herself there was no harm in him staying for dinner. Her paranoia of the day before had been ridiculous. After all, he didn’t suspect anything.

And as long as she didn’t give him any reason to, he never would suspect anything.