sneaked a look over her shoulder toward the hall, and still lowered her voice. “Take him away. Please,” she begged, surprising a laugh from him. “He whines more than he works.”
Still grinning, he said, “Is this where I admit I don’t blame him? It sounds like a crappy job.”
Her freckled nose crinkled. “It is a crappy job, but I think I can mostly finish today. Especially if I’m left alone to do it in peace. Painting is bound to be more fun.”
He looked past her to see Jake approaching. “You set?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah.” The boy sounded eager. “You’re not coming, are you, Mom?”
“And now I feel so welcome.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “No, I’m not. But I was about to invite Ethan to stay to lunch when you get back if he’d like.”
“I’d love to stay,” he said without hesitation.
Her smile was more uncomplicated than any he’d yet seen. It lit her face. And, yes, he’d been right; her eyes were a brighter blue when she was happy.
“Good,” she said, bumping her shoulder against her son’s as he passed. “Have fun.”
Talking idly about nothing in particular, they drove to Jake’s school, which had the closest available outdoor courts. Despite the lack of rain, the sky was sullen enough they could have one hoop to themselves, Ethan was glad to find.
It felt good to palm a basketball, to feel the flow of muscles as he let loose of some long jump shots. He played often enough he hadn’t lost the instincts, the reflexes. Funny, though, how long it had been since he’d played on an asphalt schoolyard court like this.
Ethan shot from way outside and watched as the ball dropped through the rim and Jake snagged it. Hit by memories, he said, “Man, I spent hours at a school near my house when I was your age, doing nothing but shooting. Half the time there wasn’t any net. I was sure I’d be an NBA star.”
“How come you’re not?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know if I’d have made it or not, and I doubt I’d have been a star no matter what. But by then I’d changed my mind. I loved playing college ball, though.”
“You’re tall enough to play pro, aren’t you?”
“Probably. I’m almost six foot four. I played forward for Portland State, but I might have been able to move to guard.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of good college ball players, though, who had the same dreams I did. It’s probably just as well I’d moved on. If nothing else, pro ball isn’t a career that lasts long. One knee injury can end it just like that.” He snapped his fingers, and then beckoned for the ball, which Jake bounced to him. “Can you shoot from the free throw line yet?”
The boy grimaced. “Kind of.”
They worked on it for a while, Ethan offering a few suggestions and Jake noticeably improving, before Ethan asked how his week had gone at school. “You try standing up for yourself?” he asked.
Jake gave a stiff shrug. “I said what you suggested to a couple of people. I don’t know. Mostly people are still looking funny at me.”
“They’ll get over it.” Ethan stole the ball from him, dribbled a couple of times and did an effortless slam dunk. Aware of the openmouthed stare from a group of boys playing a short distance away, Ethan felt some amusement at himself. Showboating, were you? He tipped his head toward the boys. “That anyone you know?”
Jake didn’t look. “One is in my class. Another of those guys used to be a friend. Ron.”
Ethan made an acknowledging sound. “What d’ya say we dazzle ’em, then?”
“Yeah!”
They played hard, Jake’s layups getting smoother, his moves as he tried to steal the ball from Ethan sneakier. When they finally decided to quit, Ethan waited until they were walking past the other boys before he said easily, “Practice, and you’ll play varsity, no problem. You’re good for your age.”
Jake flushed with pleasure. “Thanks. I mean—that’d be cool, you know?”
Ethan tapped him lightly on the back. They were past being in earshot of the little shits who’d snubbed Jake. “Looks like you might get some height from your mom, too. I don’t think your dad was tall enough to seriously play basketball.”
“He played baseball in high school.” His forehead crinkled. “I think football, too, but mostly he was a really great first baseman.”
Hearing how uncertain but also defiant he sounded, Ethan had to wonder how well the boy remembered his father. Ethan’s own memories before age six or seven were pretty skimpy. Did Laura try to keep Matt’s memory alive for his son, or had too much anger gotten in the way?
“I played on a baseball team with your dad one year,” he commented as he buckled his seat belt and put the key in the ignition of his SUV. “You know, just for fun. Our team was made up of firefighters and police officers. You’re right, your dad was dynamite at first base. Hell of a hitter, too. I’d kind of forgotten.”
“I wish I’d seen,” Jake said sadly.
Counting back, Ethan said, “If you were born at all then, you’d have been only a baby. Your mom might have brought you to games.”
“You didn’t see her?”
“If I met her, I don’t remember.” He had trouble now imagining how he could ever have set eyes on Laura Vennetti and forgotten her, but he’d been married himself then and not looking. In fact, if he’d really noticed her, he would have made a point after that of not looking.
“I bet you were a good baseball player, too.”
“I wasn’t bad, but basketball was always my sport.” He flicked on his windshield wipers and said unnecessarily, “It’s starting to rain.”
“Mom won’t like that.”
Ethan grinned. “No, she won’t.”
When they let themselves into the house, she was just emerging from what he guessed was her bedroom down the hall. Her hair, loose now, gleamed, and she’d changed to clean jeans and a V-neck sweater snug-fitting enough to cause his body to stir.
“You quit before you got wet,” she said, seeming pleased to see them. “I didn’t even know the rain had started until I got out of the shower.”
“You finished with the deck?” Ethan asked.
“It’s as scraped as it’s going to get. Who knows when I’ll be able to paint now, though. The forecast isn’t very promising.”
“I noticed.” He and Jake both followed her to the kitchen.
She turned to see them looking expectant and laughed. “I cheated. I called to order a pizza. It should be here any minute. What do you want to drink?”
They had a brief skirmish, but Ethan insisted on paying for
