whose mere existence had torn her life apart. Tonight, though, after leaving Sullivan’s, she hadn’t been able to shake off the sudden yearning to see the little boy who might have been hers. Yes, she might have been the mother of a three-year-old, if things had turned out the way she’d always thought they would.
At first, as she skirted the field, Annie thought the trip was probably wasted. The area was crowded with kids of all ages. The sidelines and bleachers were jammed with families. She could smell hot dogs and popcorn, even from where she was standing on the opposite side of the street. The noise of all that cheering was deafening, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Cal’s shout to his pitcher or her dad’s startled cry when a dark-haired boy darted away from him and headed straight for the street, apparently chasing one of the ducks from a nearby park. The loudly quacking duck was trying to get away from all the frenzy and back to his more peaceful habitat.
Seeing the child toddling straight toward danger, Annie’s protective instincts kicked in without a single thought, she made a mad dash into the street and gathered the boy up before he could get a half foot away from the curb.
“Duck!” he cried mournfully, pointing to his rapidly fleeing target.
“The duck’s going to find his family,” Annie assured him. “Ducks need their families just like we do.”
When she finally looked into the boy’s startled gaze, she saw Ty’s eyes. No question about it. Stunned, she set the child on his feet and hunkered down in front of him, suddenly shaking over how quickly the incident might have turned into a tragedy.
Before she could utter a word, her father was beside them, kneeling down. “You okay?” he murmured, the comment meant for her, since it was obvious that the boy was just fine beyond being startled to have been plucked up out of the street by a stranger.
Tears stung Annie’s eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she asked her dad, her voice barely more than a choked whisper. “This is Trevor.”
The boy’s eyes brightened. “Me Trevor,” he confirmed. “Who are you?”
Completely captivated now and unable to look away, she said, “I’m Annie.”
“Annie’s my daughter,” Ronnie told him.
“And I know your daddy,” Annie said before she could stop herself.
“Daddy plays ball,” Trevor said with obvious pride. “But not now. He hurt.”
“That’s what I hear,” Annie said. Suddenly unable to bear it another minute, she stood up. “I have to go. Bye, Trevor. See you, Dad.”
“Annie!”
The worry in her father’s voice stopped her. She forced a smile. “It’s okay. Really.” She turned her gaze to Trevor. “No more running into the street, okay? You need to be very, very careful.”
“Trust me, he won’t get away from me again,” Ronnie said grimly. “I’d forgotten how fast these little guys could move. I blinked and he was gone. I thought he was fascinated by the ducks.”
“He was, so much so that he followed one when it tried to leave.”
Her dad flinched. “Maybe we should stick to playing on the swings, buddy. What do you think?”
“Swings go high, ‘kay?” Trevor said excitedly.
Ronnie looked a little sickened by that, but he nodded gamely. “We’ll see,” he promised.
“Dad, are you sure you have this under control?” Annie asked worriedly. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone Trevor’s age left in his care.
“Not a problem,” Ronnie insisted. “Katie and Kyle are around somewhere. They’re supposed to be babysitting their younger siblings and Trevor, but they have their hands full just with Jessica Lynn and Cole, so I said I’d watch Trevor. You go on. Enjoy your evening.”
“Yeah, sure,” Annie said, walking away.
She just wished she had the slightest idea how she was supposed to enjoy anything after that bittersweet moment with Ty’s son. Worse, how was she supposed to get that little boy out of her head now that she’d held him in her arms?
The mood at margarita night was way too somber. It was getting on Helen’s nerves. Everybody was walking on eggshells, trying too hard not to say the wrong thing. And no matter how innocuous the topic, Dana Sue and Maddie couldn’t see eye to eye. They’d argued over everything from the weather to the amount of tequila that was supposed to be in the margaritas. Jeanette and Helen had been left to referee.
“Okay, this isn’t working,” Helen announced after an hour. “Let’s just get it all out there. What are we going to do about Ty and Annie?”
“Nothing,” Maddie and Dana Sue said simultaneously.
“Well, that’s progress,” Helen said. “It’s the first thing the two of you have agreed on all night.”
“We’re not going to meddle in their lives,” Dana Sue added for good measure. “That’s final.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jeanette asked hesitantly. Although both Dana Sue and Maddie scowled at her, she refused to back down. “I mean, I know I haven’t been around all that long, but those two were so much in love. It’s just a shame to have them both back home and not even speaking to each other.”
“I agree,” Helen said. “Worse is what it’s doing to the two of you. I haven’t been to a party that felt this awkward since the first boy-girl party we had back in junior high.”
Maddie flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”
“Me, too,” Dana Sue promised. “I just get so darn mad when I think about what happened.”
“Do you think I don’t?” Maddie erupted with feeling. “I wanted to shake my son when I heard what he’d done, but what am I supposed to do? He’s my son, and that little boy is my grandson. I love them.”
“And you should have been able to celebrate having your first grandchild with us, your best friends,” Helen said. “Instead, we’ve all acted as if Trevor doesn’t exist. That’s just wrong. None of this is his fault, and it’s certainly not yours.”
“I agree,” Dana Sue said. “If I leave Annie out of it for just a minute, I can actually be happy for you, Maddie. Having a grandchild must be so amazing.”
Maddie reached out and squeezed her hand. “Do you think I don’t understand how you must feel? We were going to have grandkids together, you and me, because my son and your daughter were supposed to give them to us. I know we always vowed not to pressure them like that. Heck, we tried our best not to talk about it ourselves. We didn’t want them to know how much we were counting on it, but we were.”
“And now it will never happen,” Dana Sue said, her expression bleak.
“That is just so sad,” Jeanette commiserated. “I still think—”
“No,” Maddie said. “We cannot meddle. It will get even more complicated if we do.”
