him. Robyn Granger could have him, if she wanted him. If Robyn was “into” Brandon’s kind of sex.
This morning, Thomasina had written Brandon a succinct letter warning him that if he ever sent her another package of any kind, she would call the police. She had thought that would be the end of it. She’d been wrong. So very wrong.
She kept staring at the manila envelope lying in the middle of the table. Wishing it would go away. Wishing she had the guts to open it. Knowing that if it contained what she thought it did, she’d have no choice but to contact the local authorities.
Enough was enough.
Allen Clark drove a late-model Mercedes, dressed in suits and ties and when he had moved Mary Lee and Kevin to Huntsville, he’d moved them into a three-hundred and fifty-thousand dollar house in the southeast area. The guy was in his late forties, had been divorced for eight years when he met Mary Lee and had no children of his own. As much as Jim wanted to hate the guy, he couldn’t. From what he could tell, Allen really loved Mary Lee and seemed to genuinely care about Kevin. And for the first time in a long time, Mary Lee acted as if she was truly happy. Of course, her taking Kevin away from Memphis had screwed up Jim’s life and he resented the hell out of her attitude that Allen would make Kevin a better father. Okay, so Allen had more money. Big deal. And with Kevin living under his roof, Allen spent more time with him. But Goddamn it, Allen was not Kevin’s father. He was. And he loved his son, would do anything for him—anything short of giving him up for another man to raise.
Jim hadn’t seen Kevin in nearly two months, although he called him a couple of times a week. When they talked, Kevin raved about his new room, his new computer, his fabulous dirt bike, and his great new stepdad. Unless another guy had gone through the same experience, he wouldn’t be able to understand how Jim felt, how worthless and insignificant. When the only really good thing in your life is your child and suddenly you’re no longer the primary man in his world, it’s like having your heart ripped from your chest without the benefit of any painkillers.
Despite his heavy workload at the office, Jim had taken off early to accommodate Allen’s schedule. Allen had explained that he wanted to drop Kevin off at four and be home by five-thirty to have dinner with Mary Lee.
“She needs me,” Allen had said. “She’s scared out of her mind and if I’m not with her, she panics.”
Yeah, that sounded like Mary Lee. For as long as Jim had known her, she’d been self-centered, her needs coming before anyone else’s. In Mary Lee’s world, everything revolved around her. So why, when she was facing major surgery for cancer, would anything be different? He didn’t envy Allen in the least for having to play nursemaid to a woman who could never be satisfied. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t wish Mary Lee the best—he did. He prayed she’d come through the surgery with flying colors, have a complete recovery and live to be ninety.
It had taken him a long time to stop hating her. And even longer to stop loving her.
Jim stood on the small front porch of his duplex and watched as Allen pulled his Mercedes into the driveway. By the time Allen opened his door, Jim was at the end of the sidewalk meeting him. They shook hands cordially; then Jim glanced across the hood of the car and saw Kevin’s dark head. His twelve-year-old son was already five-eight. Jim figured by the time he was eighteen he’d be as tall as Jim, at six-three.
Allen popped the car’s trunk and Kevin joined him to retrieve a couple of suitcases and a laptop computer. For a minute there, Jim halfway expected Kevin to pull his dirt bike from the trunk.
“Is that everything?” Jim asked. “Need any help?”
Allen handed Jim one of the suitcases. “He should have enough to do him for several weeks,” Allen said. “If not, buy whatever he needs and send me the bill.”
Jim growled under his breath and said in a low, rough voice, “I think I can manage to buy my son whatever he needs.”
Allen’s craggy face turned pink. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. It’s just … Well, okay then.” He turned to Kevin who’d walked over and now stood between his father and stepfather. Allen smiled at Kevin. “I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as your mom comes out of surgery, and she’ll call you herself as soon as she can.”
Kevin nodded.
“She’s going to be all right.” Allen’s smile wavered. “And you’ll be home with us before school starts.”
“Yeah, sure.” Kevin shrugged.
“If you need anything …” Allen left his sentence unfinished.
“I’ll be fine,” Kevin replied. “You take care of Mom and don’t worry about me.”
Jim and Kevin, each with a suitcase in hand, stood on the small front porch of Jim’s duplex and watched Allen Clark back out of the driveway and head off down the street.
“Come on in and I’ll show you your bedroom.” Jim opened the door and waited for Kevin to enter first. He wanted to reach out and hug his son, to tell him how glad he was that they were going to be living together, at least temporarily, for the first time since Kevin was six. But a boy of twelve-going-on-twenty probably didn’t want his dad hugging him.
Kevin hoisted his suitcase and laptop onto the bed and looked around at the room. Jim dropped the other suitcase on the floor beside the closet and tried to assess the room through his son’s eyes.
“It’s probably nowhere near as nice as your room in Huntsville,” Jim said.
“It’s okay, Dad. Really.”
“Hey, at least here you’ve got a room of your own. Back in Memphis, you had to bunk in with me in that tiny apartment I had.”
“Yeah, this is better.”
“Look, Kevin, I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, staying with me for several weeks when we haven’t spent more than a few days together since you were little. And I know you’re worried about your mom. I’m concerned about her, too. But if anybody on earth can lick cancer, Mary Lee can. She’s a real scrapper. Always has been. It was one of the things I always love—liked about her.”
“It’s just not fair, you know.”
Kevin looked as if the weight of the world was sitting heavily on his slender shoulders and Jim would give anything if he could lift that burden and carry it for him.
“I know,” Jim said.
“She’s really happy with Allen. And she’s different, you know. She stays at home more and she laughs a lot and—” Kevin choked up.
“Your mother’s going to come through the surgery just fine.”
“But it’s cancer. Cancer! She could come through the surgery okay and still die.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“How can you be so sure? Besides, I know you hate Mom. Why do you care if she lives or dies?”
Jim reached out and grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “I don’t hate your mother.” No point in admitting to his son that he had hated her for years. “And I care because she’s your mother, because she was once my wife …”
Tears pooled in Kevin’s blue eyes. Norton eyes. Eyes like Jim’s. Eyes like Jim’s father’s.
Jim squeezed Kevin’s shoulders affectionately, doing his best to comfort his son. “You can call and talk to her every day. She’ll want to hear from you and know you’re doing okay.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “I can unpack and put everything away by myself.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jim understood that his son needed to be alone for a little while, that he needed to cry without his father watching him. “You unpack and get settled in while I make a few phone calls, then later we’ll go out for supper. How does that sound?”
“Fine.”