while Allie gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turned white. Why now? Why on top of everything else had Caleb had to reenter her life? Weren’t a few death threats enough to deal with for one week?
“Mom, can I have some ice cream?”
“Sure, baby.” She forced a smile. “What flavor?”
“I would want cookie dough, but that guy Adam ate it all.”
“My brother, Adam?” Caleb laughed.
“He gonna buy us more?” Cal asked as Allie filled his bowl.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, “I’ll make sure he brings you at least three tubs.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Once Cal was safely out of earshot back in front of the TV, Caleb said, “I’ll tell my brother to stay out of your fridge.”
“I don’t care,” Allie said. “Adam always did eat his own weight worth of food at least four or five times a day. Remember the time we slow-baked that huge ham to take to your dad’s for Thanksgiving, then came home from class to find Adam had eaten half, thinking it was lunch?”
Caleb smiled at the memory, as did she. And it was nice, at least for the moment, to share one of the more pleasant parts of their past rather than their rocky future.
“We had some good times,” Allie said. “Let’s not ruin those.”
“Who said I was trying to?”
“No one. I just—let me figure out a win-win solution for all three of us, okay?”
Brushing past her to help himself to ice cream, he said, “Great. That’s all I ask.” Gesturing to the sweet treat, he asked, “Want some?”
“Thanks.” She gave him her first real smile of the day. “That’d be good.”
“After that, how ’bout we watch TV with our boy?”
“You like SpongeBob?”
“I love SpongeBob—but I’m not knitting.”
BARELY ONE commercial break into the show, Allie was out, curled into a ball at the far end of the sofa from where Caleb sat. He swallowed hard, remembering how she used to fall asleep using his shoulder or lap for a pillow.
Slipping a blanket from the sofa’s back, he tossed it over her.
“Yo, Cal,” he said to his son. “What’s your bedtime?”
“Aw, man. It’s eight-thirty, but can’t I stay up just a little longer? I won’t tell Mom.”
“Sorry, pal. It’s nearly nine and you’ve got school work in the morning.”
“Five more minutes? I’ll do an extra good job of brushing my teeth.”
“Admirable negotiation skills, but no can do.” Caleb stood, held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
“Do I get a story?”
“Still going to do an extra good job on those teeth?”
Ten minutes worth of tooth brushing and scrambling into pajamas later, Cal was all set for bed.
Caleb, chest tight, drew back his son’s blue-and-red airplane sheets and comforter. Cal smelled like toothpaste and soap and kid sweat. Probably, he was supposed to have a bath, but seeing how he was still a virtual stranger to the boy, Caleb didn’t figure one night without a bath would hurt.
He was still furious with Allie for keeping these simple pleasures from him all these years, yet he was also so damned grateful she hadn’t lost their child. That she’d loved him to a degree she’d wanted to have his child.
She just hadn’t loved him enough to raise his child with him.
Weary of the past, Caleb asked, “Which book do you want to hear?”
“Dr. Seuss! Happy Birthday To You’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too.” Caleb took it from a nearby bookshelf, then flicked on the airplane lamp on Cal’s bedside table. “Like planes, huh?”
“Yeah. I like ’em a whole lot. I wanna be an astronaut, but Mom says I have to learn to fly planes before the space shuttle. Look up.”
Caleb did, and grinned. Spread across Cal’s ceiling was the Milky Way, along with a few extra planets and space ships NASA scientists probably hadn’t yet discovered. “That’s neat. Your mom hire someone to paint it?”
He shook his head. “She did it. She’s a good drawer, huh?”
“She sure is. I never knew that about her.”
“Did you ever meet my dad?”
Caleb coughed. “Let’s, ah, get started on this book.”
“Yeah, but did you?”
“Um…” Good grief, how was he supposed to handle this? “You know what, I did meet him, and he was a really great guy. You’d have liked him a lot.”
“What’d he look like?” Cal popped upright in his bed. “We don’t even have pictures.”
“It’s getting late. Shouldn’t we get started on this book?”
“Yeah, but what’d he look like?”
“Ah, come to think of it, a lot like me.” Caleb gently eased his son back to his pillow, then opened the book. “I wish we could do what they do in Katroo…”
“Hey, Caleb?” the boy interrupted not half a page into the story.
“Yeah?”
“Think we could play soccer tomorrow? In gym last week, I was picked last for teams. Billy Stubbs said ’cause I’m a wuss and can’t kick or be goalie.”
Billy Stubbs is going down.
“Sure, bud.” It might take some furniture rearranging, but— “We’ll play whatever you want. Get you so much practice Billy’ll beg to be on your team.”
Popping back up in his bed, Cal tossed his arms around Caleb’s neck, giving him a fierce hug and sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
“Sure, kid.” Fighting to speak past a throat tight with tears, Caleb said, “You’re pretty cool, too.”
ALLIE YAWNED, slowly waking to find herself alone in the quiet living room. Last she remembered, Sponge-Bob had been terrorizing Squidward. Where was everyone?
From upstairs came the muted sound of male laughter.
Big boy and little boy.
She
