Kitabı oku: «Building Dreams», sayfa 3
However, when Ryan entered the apartment on Friday evening, far from improved, Mike’s mood had worsened. Sprawled in a chair with one leg hooked over the arm, he stared morosely at the television screen. In response to his father’s greeting he mumbled something but barely spared him a glance.
“Hey, what is this? Why the long face? Cheer up, son. Things can’t be that bad,” Ryan teased, tweaking the toe of Mike’s sneaker.
“Oh, yeah? That’s what you think.”
“So what’s the problem?” The question brought no response, and Ryan nudged him again. “C’mon, you know you can tell me.”
Mike grimaced, but finally he shot his dad a sulky look. “I don’t think Tess likes me anymore. She doesn’t return my calls. She doesn’t answer her door. I think she’s avoiding me.”
Ryan’s lips thinned. Impatience rippled through him and edged his voice. “It that all? So what? Forget about her.”
He turned away, flipping through the mail. It contained nothing of importance so he tossed it onto his desk and sat down in his easy chair. Picking up the evening newspaper, he glanced at his son, again. To his surprise, Mike was watching him, his eyes narrowed and filled with suspicion.
“Have you eaten?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah. I had some frozen egg rolls.”
“Good.” He snapped open the paper and tried to ignore his son’s penetrating stare.
“Dad, do you know why Tess is acting strange?”
“How the hell would I know?” Ryan barked, his conscience stabbing him.
“You didn’t talk to her or anything?”
“Look, Mike. Why are you making such a big deal about this woman? She’s nothing to us.”
“The change in her was real quick,” Mike mused, ignoring his father’s question. “Like maybe somebody did something to upset her.”
“So? Women get upset easily.” Ryan shifted in the chair and snapped the newspaper again, scowling at the printed page without seeing a word.
Mike sat forward, his eyes widening. “You did talk to her, didn’t you?”
Faced with a direct challenge, Ryan could not lie. He was always honest with his son. But he resented being cornered. Why couldn’t Mike just let the whole thing drop? “All right, yeah, I talked to her,” he replied belligerently. “So what?”
“When? What did you say to her?”
“She called and invited us over for dinner. I turned down the invitation.”
“But why?” Mike wailed.
Rarely did Ryan lose his temper with his son, but the anguished question pushed him over the edge. “Dammit, Mike, you know why. I will not be manipulated by some man-hungry female. What’s more, I resent the way the woman has been cozying up to you to get to me.”
Mike leaped out of his chair. His gangly body vibrated with outrage. “Tess wouldn’t do that!” he shouted. “Anyway, she’s not interested in you!”
“Don’t kid yourself. All women are on the make for a man. Or maybe I should say, a breadwinner.”
“Not Tess. That’s just plain stupid. You don’t even know her. You don’t know anything about her! She’s nice, and…and…and she’s special! And now she probably won’t ever speak to me again! And it’s all your fault!” he shouted, and bolted for his room.
“Mike! Mike, come back here!” Ryan called after him, springing up out of his chair. He could have saved his breath. Mike’s door slammed with a force that rattled the walls.
“Damn.” Spinning around, Ryan slammed his fist down on the back of the chair.
He paced back and forth across the room. This was all that damned Benson woman’s fault. He and Mike had never had a serious disagreement until now.
Why was his son so taken with her? What the hell was so special about the woman?
Ryan stopped and glanced toward the bedrooms. Mike might be innocent enough to believe she had no interest in him beyond simple neighborliness, but experience had taught him otherwise. Ever since Julia had walked out on him and Mike, women had been pursuing him like hounds after a fox. Strangely, it seemed that the more he tried to discourage them, the more remote and abrupt he was, the more relentless they were. And the more devious their ploys. Tess Benson certainly wasn’t the first woman who had tried to use Mike to attract his interest.
Ryan sat down on the sofa. Slumping forward, he braced his elbows on his spread knees and massaged his temples. He sighed. Maybe Reilly was right. Maybe Mike did need a mother figure in his life. That gentling, nurturing female influence that he and his brothers and sister had grown up with.
Guiltily, Ryan recalled the wistful look that sometimes came over Mike’s face when he talked about a friend’s mom. On those occasions Ryan had always stifled his twinges of conscience and told himself that they were doing just fine on their own. But were they? Was Mike?
Yes, dammit! Ryan shot up off the sofa and began to pace. Mike was bright and happy and well adjusted. He was doing well in school; he had plenty of friends. Just because no woman played an active role in his life that didn’t mean he was deprived. He could even be better off. God knew, some women were wretched mothers. Julia certainly had been.
He wanted to forbid Mike to have anything more to do with Tess Benson, but he knew that would not be wise. Mike was at a touchy age. Ryan didn’t want to push him into rebellion. No, the best thing he could do was wait it out. It might take time, but eventually Mike would get over his infatuation with their new neighbor.
At breakfast the next morning the atmosphere between the two McCall males was frosty. Mike responded to his father’s pleasant “Good morning” with a curt nod and skirted around him in the small kitchen as though he weren’t there, his young face stiff. Ryan’s question about what Mike wanted to eat was met with an abrupt, “Never mind. I’ll get it myself.”
After five minutes of sitting side by side at the breakfast bar, eating their cereal in stony silence, Ryan had had enough.
“This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “We have to talk about this, Mike.”
Mike merely shrugged and kept on spooning cereal into his mouth.
“Look, son,” he said as patiently as he could manage. “You know how I feel about women. You’ve always known. But, hey! Just because I don’t want to be around Mrs. Benson doesn’t mean you can’t be friends with her.”
Mike cut his eyes toward his father, his expression still sullen. “You hurt her feelings. Now she doesn’t want to be friends with me.”
“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to try harder. Look, tell her I said it was all right.”
Mike grimaced and stared at his cereal bowl.
“C’mon, son.” Ryan cuffed him on the shoulder. “Whaddaya say?”
Dramatically rolling his eyes, the boy heaved a sigh. “O-kay,” he agreed finally, in a put-upon voice that only a teenager can achieve.
“Good. So, how about it? Are we friends again?”
Mike shot him another sharp look. Ryan could see that he was struggling to hold on to his rancor, but Mike’s basic good nature never allowed him to stay angry for long. In that respect he was far more like his Uncle Reilly than his father. Ryan’s twin was unfailingly, at times maddeningly, good-natured and jovial, and on those rare occasions when he did lose his temper his anger never lasted long.
Finally Mike’s mouth twitched in a reluctant, somewhat abashed smile. “Yeah. I guess.”
By the time they headed out to do their Saturday grocery shopping and errands, the camaraderie between father and son was fully restored. Ryan’s mood was buoyant…until, a mile or so from the apartment, he spotted Tess.
Her car was sitting by the side of the road with a flat tire, and she was bending over the open trunk. He couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking that bright hair or that battered little car.
Ryan speeded up, hoping that Mike wouldn’t notice her. That hope was dashed almost instantly.
“Look! There’s Tess!” he shouted. “And she has a flat!” He looked at his father, his face at first eager, then crestfallen. “Aren’t you gonna stop?”
Ryan opened his mouth to tell him that these days liberated women changed their own flat tires, but before he could, Tess straightened up and turned around with the jack in her hands.
Ryan’s head whipped around as he zoomed past her. “What the—?” His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
He snapped his mouth shut then opened it again to cut loose with a stream of colorful curse words that had Mike gaping, stomped on the brake and brought the Cherokee to a screeching halt on the shoulder of the road.
He stabbed his son with an irate glare. “She’s pregnant! Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was pregnant!”
Chapter Three
“Me!”Mike squeaked. “Why should I? I thought you knew!”
“No, I didn’t know. How the hell would I kn—” Ryan stopped and raked a hand through his hair, aware that the anger he was heaping on his son was misdirected; it was himself he was furious with.
A pregnant woman, for Pete’s sake. A pregnant widow!
“Uh…are we going to help her?” Mike asked cautiously. He watched his father, his young face puckered with anxiety and hope.
Biting off another sharp curse, Ryan turned his face away and stared out the window. He did not see the traffic whizzing by nor feel the buffeting of its backdraft.
His emotions warred. He felt guilty as hell.
But dammit! He was angry, too. He had the inescapable feeling that he was being sucked into a situation against his will. It was as though he’d fallen into a raging torrent and was being dragged inexorably toward a waterfall, no matter how hard he fought against it.
He gritted his teeth. Dammit! Tess Benson wasn’t his problem. For several moments he sat ramrod stiff and stared into the distance, his face grim. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. A muscle along his jaw worked. Finally, as though drawn by a magnet, his gaze slid to the rearview mirror.
“Oh, what the hell!” he snapped, and reached for the door handle. “C’mon. Let’s go give her a hand before she hurts herself.”
“Yes! Yes!” Making a fist, Mike bent his arm and jerked it downward in one sharp pump of victory before scrambling out of the car and racing after his father.
With a face like thunder, Ryan stomped back toward the disabled car, his long strides eating up the ground. Mike had to break into a trot just to keep up.
When they rounded the end of the vehicle Ryan came to an abrupt halt, his frustration and fury soaring to even greater heights at the sight of Tess on her knees inside the trunk, trying to drag out the spare tire.
“Will you…come out of…there!” Grunting and straining, Tess tugged at the tire with all her might, but she couldn’t budge it. Unable to reach the spare because of her girth, she had climbed up into the trunk to get closer, but she still couldn’t get a good grip on the tire. Huffing and puffing, she sat back on her heels, perilously close to tears. What was she going to do?
She looked around forlornly. The traffic zipped past her as though she were invisible. Weren’t there any white knights left in the world?
The thought had barely flitted through her mind when a pair of hard hands hooked under her arms from behind.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a furious voice barked in her ear. Tess let out a frightened squeal but she was plucked out of the trunk as though she weighed no more than a sack of groceries.
Just as unceremoniously, she was plunked down on her feet and released. The instant she gained her balance she spun around—and gasped.
“You!”
Ryan McCall stood before her with his fists planted on his hips, his feet spread aggressively wide, glaring down at her as though he were contemplating mayhem. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t be climbing around in the trunk of a car or trying to lift a heavy tire?”
“Of course I know,” Tess fired back. “But I have a flat that needs changing. What else could I do? The nearest gas station is at least three miles away.”
“You can stand by the side of the road and look helpless until a good Samaritan comes along.”
“Oh really? If I waited for some big strong man to help me I’d be here all day.” She gestured toward the unending stream of traffic rushing by. “In case you haven’t noticed, chivalry doesn’t exactly seem to be in vogue these days.”
“Don’t worry, Tess. Dad’s real good at fixing tires. He’ll have it done in no time.”
Tess’s head whipped around. “Mike!” She had been so stunned by Ryan’s sudden appearance, she hadn’t even noticed his son hovering beside her.
“Just stand back and stay out of the way,” Ryan ordered, and swung around to the car.
“No, wait! Stay away from there!” Tess rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “I don’t want or need your help, Mr. McCall.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You can’t change this tire. If you won’t think of yourself, at least think of your baby.”
Giving her a disdainful look, he shook off her hand and, with infuriating ease, reached into the trunk and lifted out the spare. He bounced it experimentally on the ground and immediately erupted in another colorful burst of profanity.
Alarmed, Tess took a hasty step back, her eyes growing wide at the fierce expression on his face.
“This thing is flat, too! Woman, don’t you have a lick of sense? Driving around on half-bald tires without even a decent spare?”
“I…I didn’t know the spare was flat.”
“You didn’t know? That’s no excuse. You drive the damned car—you’re suppose to know what shape it’s in.”
“But…you see…my husband always took care of those kinds of things. I don’t know anything about cars.”
“Then you better learn. You don’t have a husband now,” he said heartlessly. He turned away and walked around to the side of the car to retrieve the jack, muttering a stream of invective and criticism.
It was too much for Tess. The tears that came so easily these days welled up. She struggled for control, but Ryan McCall was more than her overwrought nerves could take. He was the last person she had expected—or wanted—to see. Moreover, he was obviously furious and giving his assistance grudgingly.
Tess’s face crumpled, and she burst into tears. “Daaad!”
Mike’s anguished wail brought Ryan whirling around. “What? What’s wro—? Aw, hell.”
“Come quick, Dad! Hurry!” Mike’s face wore a look of horror. His frantic gaze jumped back and forth between his father and the weeping woman. Wanting to give comfort but afraid to touch her, he hopped around Tess, shuffling from one foot to the other, his hands hovering over her heaving shoulders.
Ryan stomped to the rear of the car and threw the jack into the trunk. Tess sobbed brokenly, the sounds harsh and raw, verging on hysterical.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, Dad. All of a sudden, she just started bawling.” Mike sent his father a desperate look. “Do you think she’s hurt?”
“I doubt it. Women in her condition tend to be high-strung. That’s probably all it is.”
Tess cried harder. The sounds were piteous and unnerving and they served to exacerbate Ryan’s guilt. His jaw clenched.
Mike looked distraught. “Do something, Dad!”
“Here.” Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, Ryan pulled out a clean handkerchief and stuffed it into Tess’s hands. “Now, take her back to the Cherokee, son, and try to calm her down. I’ll lock up her car and bring the tires.”
“Calm her down? How am I suppose to do that?” Mike squeaked.
“Oh, for—Here. Like this.” Ryan wrapped his arms around Tess and pulled her close. He expected her to resist, but she sagged against him and burrowed her face into his chest, her fingers clutching his shirt. Her response was so urgent and wholehearted, he realized that she had no idea who held her; she was merely reacting instinctively, responding to the warmth and comfort of human touch.
Ryan’s guilt deepened. He had forgotten how precariously balanced a woman’s emotions were during pregnancy. Julia had been a basket case when she carried Mike. She had burst into tears if you so much as looked at her. If anyone had shouted at her, she probably would have dissolved into a puddle.
Expectant mothers needed support and reassurance. They needed to feel loved and cosseted and cared for. He had learned that much. And when you thought about it, simple physical contact and gentle words—that really wasn’t too much to ask, considering what they were going through.
Staring out into space, Ryan rubbed his hands over Tess’s shoulders in slow circles. He had given Julia all that. Willingly. Gladly. Hell, he’d been downright enthralled by the whole process.
He had held his wife’s head and commiserated with her during morning sickness, rubbed her back when it ached, assisted her when it became awkward to rise from a chair, tied her shoes. When advanced pregnancy had forced her to make several trips a night to the bathroom he had helped her out of bed and waited outside the door to assist her back into it. Many times in the small hours of the morning he had dressed and gone out in search of whatever special food would satisfy her weird cravings.
Tess Benson was alone, with no one to do those things for her. Ryan wondered how she coped.
Despite her swollen abdomen—which he could feel pressing against his middle—she was surprisingly slender. She was a little thing, he realized. The top of her head didn’t even reach his chin, and as he ran his hands up and down her back, he noticed that her shoulder blades and ribs seemed incredibly delicate, almost fragile. She was soft and utterly feminine, the kind of woman that brought out a man’s most basic protective instincts. He was surprised at how pleasant it felt to hold her.
Ryan’s nose twitched. She smelled good, too. Over the acrid odors of exhaust fumes, road dust and hot paving he caught an occasional whiff of the sweet, clean scent that drifted from her hair.
Mike, Ryan noticed, was watching him intently, just as he always did whenever he was learning a new skill. With a pang, Ryan realized that in the past eight years his son had not once seen him show concern or affection for any woman outside of those within their family. The boy probably truly did not know how to comfort Tess.
The thought was oddly troubling, and Ryan quickly pushed it aside and set Tess away from him.
“See, that’s all there is to it. So, go on. Take her to the car,” he ordered brusquely. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Carefully, as though afraid she might break, Mike put his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, Tess.” With awkward but touching solicitude, he led her down the shoulder of the road to the waiting vehicle. Ryan watched them go, his expression thoughtful.
Tess could not stop crying; she had completely lost control. The Cherokee rocked when Ryan tossed her tires in the back and she let out a startled yelp, but still the tears came. When he climbed in behind the wheel, all she could do was bury her face in his handkerchief and gasp and choke and sob.
She was mortified. She expected him to berate her, but he merely leaned against the door and waited with surprising patience for the storm of weeping to end.
After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to pull herself together. Gulping, she wadded his handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I—I’m…s-sorry,” she mumbled between watery sniffs. “I—I guess I over…re-reacted.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Ryan turned the ignition key and started the engine. “Where were you headed?”
“To the gro-grocery store,” she said without thinking. Her head came up. “Oh, but…if you’ll just take me ho-home, that will be fine. I’ll call the garage to pick up the tires.”
“It’s no problem. Mike and I were headed to the store anyway. We’ll drop off the tires on the way and save you a road call fee.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped.
Tess stared at his hard profile in helpless frustration. Short of jumping out of the moving vehicle, it appeared that she had no choice.
The next hour was the longest, most miserable that Tess could recall. Despite Ryan’s assistance, she was still seething over the nasty things he had said to her. During the drive to the store neither spoke. He stared straight ahead, his face so hard it looked as though it had been chiseled from granite. Tess held herself stiff and pressed against the passenger door and did her best to ignore him.
The instant he parked the vehicle, she scrambled out. She doubted that it would occur to a mannerless oaf like Ryan McCall to open her door for her, but she wasn’t taking the chance of him getting that close.
If he even noticed her hasty action he gave no indication.
“We’ll meet back here in half an hour,” he announced when they entered the store. “If you finish first, wait for us.”
“Fine,” Tess replied just as tersely, and sent up a silent thanks as they parted company.
Throughout the store she constantly bumped into the McCalls. She and Ryan tried to ignore one another, but Mike made that impossible. At every encounter he greeted her with a huge grin and a barrage of silly adolescent banter. Even when they weren’t in the same aisle, he darted back and forth between Tess and his father. She had the horrible feeling that to the other shoppers they probably looked like a family out for their weekly shopping.
When they met at the checkout stand, Tess could not help but notice that, other than a few staples, Ryan’s cart was filled with frozen foods and microwave dinners. She experienced a pang of sympathy that anyone would have to survive on a steady diet of such tasteless junk. Then she remembered Ryan’s rude and vile response the last time she had shown concern over their eating habits, and hardened her heart.
On the drive home, Tess and Ryan barely uttered a word, but Mike more than made up for her reticence and his father’s tight-jawed remoteness. Sitting in the back, the boy leaned forward between the front bucket seats and chattered away about anything and everything. He was so obviously delighted to have her along, it wrung Tess’s heart.
Never had she seen such a welcome sight as their apartment complex. She was all set to grab her groceries and make good her escape, but Ryan foiled her plan.
“Mike, you take our groceries up. I’m going to help Mrs. Benson with hers,” he said before she could get the door open.
“I can help Tess, Dad.”
“No, I’ll do it. I want to talk to her. In private,” he added pointedly when Mike opened his mouth to argue further.
The boy’s alarmed gaze skittered back and forth between his father and Tess. “About what? You’re not gonna hurt her feel—”
“That’s enough, Mike.” Ryan silenced him with a long look. “Take the groceries upstairs like I told you.”
“Oh, all right.” His young face set in a sulky pout, Mike hurtled out of the Cherokee, snatched four sacks out of the back and stomped off.
Tess and Ryan followed. She wanted to protest that she had no desire to talk to him about anything, but since he had come to her rescue she couldn’t very well do that. After hefting each sack for weight, he handed her the two lightest and gathered up the rest. Side by side, they climbed the stairs without speaking, their arms laden. With every step, her dread grew.
Nevertheless, Tess always faced things head-on. If she had a dose of nasty tasting medicine to take, she swallowed it down quickly and got it over with. The instant they set the sacks on her kitchen counter, she turned to Ryan.
“You wanted to talk to me, Mr. McCall?” Her face stiff, she stared over his right shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes.
Ryan studied her, the look on his granite face inscrutable. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have said those things to you the other day.”
The statement caught her by surprise. An apology was the last thing she expected. “No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed, slanting him a cool look. “So why did you?”
“At the time, I didn’t know you were pregnant. Mike failed to mention that fact. I only made that discovery when I saw you standing beside your car this morning.”
Tess stared at him, her jaw slack. “So? What possible difference does that make?”
“Look, Mrs. Benson—”
“No, you look. You don’t know me at all, Mr. McCall. Yet you were rude and insulting. Your nasty accusations were un-called for, and most certainly undeserved…whether or not I happen to be expecting.”
“Okay, okay. Maybe you’re right. I guess I did jump to some hasty conclusions,” he conceded grudgingly. “But women aren’t very high on my list these days.”
Tess’s eyes widened slightly. Now what did that mean? Before she could ask, Ryan went on.
“Still, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I apologize.”
Tess merely looked at him. It would have been a lot easier to accept his apology if he had not sounded as though he were making it under duress. The terse words were correct, but he spoke them as though they left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Tess sighed. Ungracious or not, it was an apology. She supposed she would have to accept it, if only for Mike’s sake. Besides, she hated strife. And it wasn’t good for the baby. Unless he moved, she was going to be living next door to this man for years, so the prudent thing was to make peace.
“Very well, Mr. McCall. Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Her lips curved in a stiff smile, and she made a subtle move to escort him to the door. Ryan McCall made her nervous. She hadn’t noticed before just how big and overpowering he was. He dominated her small kitchen—with his height and his broad, brawny shoulders, all that brooding, raw masculinity he exuded. He was big and dark and fierce looking, and she was suddenly more anxious than ever to get him out of her apartment.
“There is one other thing,” Ryan said, thwarting her plan.
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s about Mike. He’s…uh…very taken with you.”
Unconsciously, Tess’s face softened at the mention of the boy, and her smile turned gentle. “I’m very fond of him, too. Mike’s a good kid.”
“He’s been upset these past few days. He thinks you don’t like him anymore.”
“Mr. McCall—”
“Look, I understand. You’ve been avoiding him because of what I said to you. But…well…” Ryan rubbed his nape and grimaced. For the first time, he looked ill at ease. “It’s been pointed out to me recently that Mike needs some feminine influence in his life. From his reaction to you, it’s difficult to argue with that. So…I just want you to know that I won’t object if you do want to befriend him. That is, if you don’t mind having him hanging around?”
“Of course I don’t mind. I enjoy Mike’s company. And he is a tremendous help to me.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” He nodded brusquely and headed for the door, much to Tess’s relief, but before he reached it, he turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll need your car keys.”
“My car keys? Whatever for?”
Ryan exhaled an impatient sigh. “So I can drive your car home after I put the tire back on.”
“Oh, no. Really, Mr. McCall. I can’t let you do that. I’ve been enough trouble already. I’ll—”
“It’s no big deal,” he said sharply, and Tess could tell she had annoyed him again. “Both tires should be repaired by now. I called my brother from the store. He’s going to drive me to pick them up. I’ll have your car back in less than an hour.”
With that settled, he stalked out. Tess locked the door behind him, then turned and leaned back against it, shaking her head, her expression bemused. What a strange man.
After that day, Mike became a frequent visitor. Though too young to be on the payroll, he often accompanied Ryan to construction sites and did odd jobs for his father and uncle. When Mike wasn’t with Ryan or hanging out with his buddies, he could usually be found at Tess’s apartment. On those evenings when his father worked late, she always made a point to invite the boy over for dinner.
Mike was boisterous and friendly as a puppy. And like a puppy, he was at that gangly stage where he seemed to be constantly tripping over his own feet. Filled with eagerness and boundless energy, Mike never walked; he loped. Nor did he merely sit down; he collapsed. As though he were held together by a single vital pin that someone had suddenly pulled, he would drop onto a chair or sofa like a sack of loose bones, sprawling out, long arms and legs draping over the furniture with all the rigidity of freshly cooked spaghetti.
Observing him, Tess often had to bite back a smile. She found his awkwardness endearing and viewed his guileless abandon with amused indulgence.
“If that kid ever grows into those feet of his and gets some meat on those bones he’s going to be one big son-of-a-gun someday,” Amanda commented on more than one occasion. “A big, good-looking son-of-a-gun. Just like his dad.”
Though it galled her, Tess had to agree. In spite of his perpetual fierce look, Ryan was a strikingly handsome man, and Mike was the very image of him. Unlike Ryan, though, Mike had a happy disposition and a lively sense of humor.
The boy had a penchant for telling jokes—bad jokes—the cornier and sillier the better. In Tess, who possessed a slightly skewed sense of humor herself, he found the perfect audience. He constantly barraged her and Amanda with awful puns and riddles and knock-knock jokes, and when a punch line drew groans, he clutched his sides and doubled over in a fit of laughter.
Of Ryan, Tess saw very little, which did not surprise her. Despite his apology, she did not delude herself that they had parted friends. At best, they had achieved a cautious truce.
Daily, she heard his comings and goings, and once she left the parking lot at the same time he entered it, but the only acknowledgment he gave her was a curt nod as they drove past one another. They didn’t exchange a word or come face-to-face until one evening about a week and a half later.
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