out onto the back porch. As one, both men sank into twin wooden rocking chairs Hank said Jenna’d ordered from some catalogue or other. Hank’s half-grown puppy, Mutt—the consensus was half black Lab, half German Shepherd—came bounding up the steps to them, planting his big black feet on Cal’s knee.
“I hear Dawn’s back,” Hank said nonchalantly. Cal might’ve laughed if his gut hadn’t felt like somebody’d filled it with a bucket of broken glass.
“You know, I’m beginning to think this entire town’s clairvoyant.”
“Nope. Luralene just happened to be standing in the doorway to the Hair We Are about the time Ivy and Dawn drove past this afternoon. I imagine the news has gotten clear to Claremore by now. Far as Pryor, at the very least.” Hank glanced over, his expression unreadable in the dim light coming from the screen door, then took another swallow of beer.
“What’s got everyone speculatin’, though, is why she’s back. Especially since she was just here in July.”
Cal stuck one booted foot up on the porch railing, pushing back the chair on its rockers as far as he dared. “Let’s put it this way—looks like you and Ryan aren’t the only ones to have fatherhood sprung on ’em this year.”
Hank had the beer can halfway to his mouth; now he lowered it, glancing back to make sure they wouldn’t be heard. “You got Dawn pregnant?”
“Yep.”
Hank sat back in his chair, taking this in. Rocked some more. Then he said, “Remember that night you cheated me out of twenty bucks when we were playing pool? And I asked you whether anything happened between you and Dawn when she was here on the Fourth, and you wouldn’t answer?”
“Well, now you know why I wouldn’t answer. And I did not cheat you out of twenty dollars. Not my fault you can’t play worth spit.”
Several seconds passed before Hank said, “So…what’s this mean? You two gettin’ married?”
“Nope.”
“She at least moving back here?”
“Nope.”
“And I take it you’re not sellin’ up and moving back east with her?”
“Hell, no.”
“Then what in tarnation—?”
“The way I see it,” Cal said, “is what we’ve got here is a baby on the way, a pair of parents who probably shouldn’t be having this baby together, and a whole bunch of questions without answers.” He took a swallow of beer and said, “Make for one helluva crappy night, let me tell you. Well, except for the baby part. I mean, I wasn’t exactly plannin’ on it right now, but it could be worse.”
Another several seconds passed before Hank said, “Yeah. It could be. She might’ve decided not to tell you at all. Then twelve or thirteen years down the road, you suddenly discover you have a kid.”
At that moment the kid in question banged through the screen door to say good-night, bending over to give her father a hug and a kiss before going back inside. Both men sat and rocked for a moment, the rockers’ creaking competing with a lone cicada buzzing its butt off.
“So what’re you gonna do?”
Cal sighed. “Damned if I know. Our goin’ to bed together was a fluke. Our havin’ a baby an even bigger fluke—”
“And you’ve been sweet on her your whole life.”
“You know, I’ve never given anybody cause to think that, so why—”
Hank just laughed. Cal rocked some more, thinking about that look on Dawn’s face when she was talking about those kids she worked with. “Her life’s back east. And there’s nothing Haven, or I, can give her that could even begin to replace what she’d be giving up.”
“Must’ve been some reason she got cozy with you.”
“Yeah. Boredom.”
“You know that for sure?”
Cal wiggled his bottle on his knee, frowning. “No. But maybe I’ve got better things to do than set myself up for a fall. There’s a reason I didn’t pursue her when we were in high school, you know. Even when we were kids, she practically buzzed with all the things she wanted to do, places she wanted to go. Causes she needed to champion. As we got older, it became crystal clear that Haven would never be enough for her. That I’d never be enough for her.”
“So you think she’s better than you?”
“No,” he said, irritation dragging out the word. “Just different. Life here suits me. It never did Dawn. And it never would. Especially now.”
“I see.” The floorboards squawked when Hank leaned forward. “So answer me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“All those gals you’ve dated over the years…how come you never settled down with any of ’em?”
“How the hell should I know? None of ’em…felt right, is all. Not for the long haul, anyway.”
“Uh-huh. As in, none of ’em were…enough for you?”
“You’re not hearing what I’m saying,” Cal said wearily.
“Dawn’s a helluva lot more—” he banged the beer on the arm of the chair, fighting for the right word “—complex than I am.”
Hank laughed. “All women are more complex than men, bozo brain.”
“And who the hell are you to give me advice, anyway?”
Heavy dark brows shot up. “Hey. Nobody told you to come over here. All I’m saying is, don’t sell yourself short. So the two of you are different. Big deal. So’re Jenna and me. And look at our parents, for the love of Mike. A farmer and a classical pianist? Look—at least you’ve got a fighting chance to see your kid grow up. That’s more than I had. And if you don’t try…what’s the alternative?”
From inside, the phone rang. Hank bounded out of the chair, dog scrambling and screen door banging shut as he grabbed the portable off the hall table. “Well, hey there, yourself, honey,” Cal heard his brother say, and his heart did this stupid thumping thing in his chest. He stood, as well, waving so long through the door before heading back to his truck. Once back out on the road, though, Hank’s words hit Cal like a well-aimed spit wad.
Why had Dawn ended up in his bed that night?
And, more important, why had he let her?
The answer whalloped him so hard, he nearly drove off the road: because he figured nothing would come of it, that’s why.
Because he thought he’d be safe. That since there was no danger of her falling in love with him, the opposite was also true.
If he hadn’t’ve been driving, he would’ve banged his head on the steering wheel. God knows his brain could use a little loosening up, anyway.
