lifted her wrist and checked out the illuminated face of her watch. “Hey, it’s only ten-thirty. I thought you guys would hang out longer.”
An obvious attempt to change the subject, but Jenna wasn’t ready to let it go. “Rachelle . . .”
Again, Stan squeezed her shoulders, almost as if to convince her to put off her questions. She didn’t want to, but perhaps Stan felt uncomfortable being privy to their family business.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “She’ll talk when she’s ready, honey. Give her a little time.”
Indeed, Rachelle seemed determined to change the subject. She peered at the SUV and grinned. “The squirt’s asleep?”
Stan said, “He snores like a trucker.”
Laughing, Rachelle hefted her purse strap up to her shoulder and headed for the vehicle. “I’ll take him in so you two can . . . visit more.” After a wink to Stan that had Jenna blushing, Rachelle got Ryan on his feet, but his eyes remained closed.
“Want me to carry him in?” Stan offered.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.” Ryan was more a sleepwalker than a willing participant as Rachelle guided him up the porch and inside.
After one more quick smile and a suspiciously scheming look, she closed the door and the porch light went out. A little embarrassed, Jenna shook her head. Her daughter could use an ounce or so of subtlety.
“Don’t worry about it,” Stan said. “She’s just showing that she likes me.”
Of course she did, Jenna thought. Everything about Stan was likable, from his easy nature to his charming smile. But she sensed it was more than that for Rachelle, almost as if she felt something had been missing from their lives, and Stan could fix that.
It made her feel like a bad mother, as if she hadn’t done the best she could for her kids.
In her own grief, had she neglected a portion of her children’s needs? The last three years hadn’t been easy for any of them, but she’d thought her kids were now happy and well adjusted. As a single parent, there were too many times when she couldn’t be somewhere, couldn’t do something . . .
“You’re tense,” Stan said. “Let’s sit on the porch swing and talk.”
Jenna nodded agreement, but at the same time, she worried over how quickly her kids had accepted Stan. What would they do when Stan stopped coming over? They’d be hurt for sure. Maybe she’d be smarter to end things now, before she slept with him . . .
“Come on.” His tone grim, Stan slid his arm around her waist and urged her along the walkway.
Absently, her thoughts still jumbled, Jenna told him, “Today was wonderful, Stan. I haven’t seen Ryan so excited in a very long time. Thank you.”
“No thanks necessary. I enjoyed myself.”
They reached the porch swing, and Jenna shook off her odd distraction. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should go in.” If she sat down, he’d kiss her, and she’d forget everything else.
“Why?” He didn’t look disappointed by her suggestion, so much as patient.
“I know my daughter,” Jenna explained, “and something happened tonight. She might need to talk with me.”
“Not yet.” Stan pressed her into the swing and then crowded in close beside her. With one big foot, he gave the swing a push.
Under the porch roof, the moon’s illumination couldn’t quite penetrate, leaving them in heavy shadows. A sense of intimacy enveloped them, crowding out other, more restless thoughts.
Then Stan said, “Rachelle fancied herself in love with Terrance. Earlier, before she left, she considered sleeping with him.”
Jenna jerked around to face him. “She told you that?”
“No.” Stan’s voice remained calm and even despite her disbelief. “She’d even had thoughts about marrying him some day. But tonight he moved too fast, pushing her, not being very nice.”
Lost, Jenna stared at Stan, her gaze seeking in the darkness.
“The good news is that her eyes were opened to the type of guy he really is. The bad news is, she’s hurt.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But your daughter is smart, Jenna. She won’t be seeing him anymore.”
Everything inside Jenna went still. Stan acted as though he knew it all for fact, when that couldn’t be. “What are you talking about, Stan? You can’t possibly know what my daughter is thinking or feeling.”
“I know.” Stan stared down at his lap, then abruptly turned and pointed at the moon. “You see that, honey? A big, fat full moon, just hanging up there in the sky, lighting the yard like midday. And not just any full moon. This is the second full moon this month. A rarity. A blue moon.”
A little spooked, Jenna turned her head and glanced up at the sky. The yard did seem unusually bright, and suddenly, the air settled, not even a leaf rustling.
A chill of alarm went up her spine.
“Don’t get spooked,” Stan told her. “But this is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Jenna had nothing to say to that, so she remained quiet, waiting.
As if he knew her every thought, Stan smiled. “For some people, maybe for you, a full moon heightens emotions. It’s not turning forty that made you think more about me. It’s the moon. Obviously, for a blue moon, the effect would be exaggerated. It definitely is for me.”
Jenna frowned. “Exaggerated how?”
His jaw worked. With his arm around her, her side pressed into his, Jenna felt his muscles tightening. “I was in trouble with juvy—juvenile hall—three times. All three times, I did things people couldn’t understand. I jumped one kid, put myself in front of another, refused to let a girl ride her bike home . . .”
Awareness dawning, though it didn’t make much sense, Jenna asked, “This all happened during a full moon?”
He gave one quick nod. “The guy I jumped was going to buy dope from some creeps, just to impress his girlfriend. After they tossed me in juvy, he did it anyway. And got in a shitload of trouble—just as I knew he would.”
“Buying dope is never a good idea, Stan.”
Rather than look at her, he stared straight ahead. “The guy I got in front of was going to challenge a bully who would have beat him up and humiliated him in front of everyone. That kid had enough troubles without adding more to his list.”
Idly, almost as if he didn’t realize it, Stan’s fingertips teased over her shoulder, caressing, stroking—keeping her close.
In a faint voice, somehow tortured by memories, he whispered, “The girl had lost her mother. She was feeling suicidal. I know, because . . . I felt what she felt. I couldn’t let her leave, knowing what she’d do. I caught hell for detaining her, but as a result, she got caught up in the same chaos that surrounded me.
