Kitabı oku: «A Texas-Made Family», sayfa 3

Grant muttered under his breath. The girl had to be Lisa Geroux. Her flashing aquamarine eyes reminded Grant of her mother. And there was no mistaking the chemistry she and Ryan shared. The joy vanished from Ryan’s face the instant the girl turned and pointed to him and Brandy.

Busted, Grant thought guiltily. She must have heard Brandy’s loud comment when they arrived. His stomach bottomed out the way it did when he pulled too many Gs in flight. Ryan was involved with a girl. And her mother was dead set against the relationship. What a mess. He could’ve retired any number of places, but he’d picked San Antonio. It’d been his first duty station and held some happy memories. He’d hoped his kids would like it here, and that maybe he and Ryan could heal old wounds.

Now it appeared they could be facing more problems than ever. It was evident they needed to talk about a lot of things. Not here in front of a crowd, but soon.

Standing, Grant took Brandy’s hand. Ignoring her protests, he led her to the side of the bleachers farthest away from where Ryan stood glaring at them. Grant jumped down and held up his arms for Brandy.

“Why are we leaving? We never got to watch Ryan pitch.”

“Turns out this wasn’t a good idea, Brandy. How about we go get ice cream instead?”

“Rocky road?”

“Sure.” It would no doubt ruin her appetite for dinner. Here he went again, being far too easygoing. But he couldn’t have both his kids hating him. Maybe he should get a few pointers on tough parenting from Rebecca Geroux.

Chapter Three

RYAN LANE stormed into his house around five o’clock, radiating belligerence. Grant had anticipated the outburst, which was why he’d made arrangements for Brandy to play at the home of a new school friend.

Grant looked up from the couch and marked his place in the Dale Brown book he was reading.

“What the hell were you doing this afternoon?” Ryan threw his duffel bag on the couch, barely missing his dad.

“Watch your language, and I suggest you rethink using that tone with me, Ryan.”

The angry teen showed no inclination to back down. Hands splayed on his hips, Ryan ignored his father’s suggestion. “You haven’t given a damn about anything I’ve done for seventeen years. I don’t want or need you poking your nose in my business now.”

“You’re wrong about my not caring.” Setting his book on the lamp stand, Grant stood. He still had three inches and a few pounds on his gangly, six-foot son. He recognized the show of testosterone, but Grant was determined to remain cool and in control.

“Right!” Ryan raised his voice. “You paid housekeepers and nannies, and that means you cared?”

Grant scraped a finger over the stubble on his chin. “I made sure I hired the most qualified caregivers I could find. My job made it impossible to be a full-time dad. You know, son, I don’t think that’s what’s bugging you now. Why don’t you tell me what you’re really upset about?”

“I want you to get off my back.”

“Coming to see you play ball is being on your back? Did you win, by the way?”

“No! My pitching went to hell after Lisa pointed you out in the stands.”

“About her…” Grant hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “She and her brothers were certainly excited about your home run.”

“They aren’t her brothers. Lisa babysits them.” Ryan acted as if his father was short on brain cells. “Their mother works with Lisa’s,” he snapped. “Lisa’s only sixteen, but she’s in all my honors classes. Her brother’s a freshman. Not that I have to explain anything to you about my friends or their families.”

Grant slid his fists deep in his front pockets. Belatedly he remembered Rebecca mentioning that her daughter babysat. “Ryan, I realize our family isn’t the most conventional. At Ramstein, because it was a closed community, I knew the parents of all your friends. Living off base is an adjustment. I’d hoped it would give us the chance to…get more in touch with each other, for lack of a better term. That’s why I bought a house with a patio and a pool. I want us to do things together.”

“Like, you suddenly think we’ll have barbecues and be best buds?”

“For starters, you could invite your friends over some weekend…with their parents,” he added as an afterthought. “I assume your friend Lisa has parents.”

Ryan scowled. “Lisa works most weekends. And Mrs. Geroux isn’t overly friendly. It’s a bad idea, all right?” He snatched up his duffel. “Besides, it’s just Lisa, her mom and her brother, Jordan. So drop it, okay?”

Grant heard Ryan clomp down the tiled hall to his room. His door slammed, and instantly the house pulsed with the sounds of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Grant shut his eyes, took a deep breath and reminded himself that Ryan was still just a kid. A kid who’d had too much autonomy for too long. That was Grant’s fault.

In sudden need of air, he fled to the patio. He’d hired a pool service, but brushing off the day’s accumulation of dust from the pool’s pebbly sides helped clear his mind. He didn’t think he could be of any use to Rebecca Geroux. Not without widening the rift between him and Ryan. Grant had been aware of their rift even before Teresa died. His dilemma had always been that he didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to explain his and Teresa’s marital problems to a boy who worshipped his mother. And was it too late to explain it all now?

Crap! Let Rebecca Geroux solve her problems by herself. Lord knew he had enough of his own. Problems that dated back to when he wasn’t much older than his son.

Teresa had come into his life at a bad time. They shouldn’t have stayed married, but she didn’t want a divorce. And her mental and physical health had been fragile, or so Grant assumed. Too late he discovered a lot had been manipulation.

Whether she meant to or not, Teresa had let her histrionics drive a wedge between father and son. And after her untimely death, Grant’s guilt kept him even farther from Ryan. He’d floundered, and that wasn’t the military way. So, he’d put the problem out of his mind.

Grant hung the pool brush on its pegs and headed back to the house. He should probably find Rebecca and explain why he couldn’t help her break the kids up. He also wasn’t happy with the way he’d let her leave the café.

After more internal debate, he decided to phone her. Since asking Ryan for the number wasn’t an option now, he turned to the phone book. Only no Rebecca or R. Geroux was listed in the San Antonio telephone directory. Thank heaven for the Internet. It was a little scary to see how easily he turned up her supposedly unlisted number.

Grant shut his bedroom door to make the call in private—not that Ryan would hear anything over the blaring music. On his first attempt, Grant misdialed. On the second try, a boy answered. Grant remembered Ryan’s saying Lisa had a brother. “May I speak with Rebecca?” he asked.

“She’s at work. Who’s calling, please?”

“A friend. I suppose I could drop by and see her there.”

“Yeah, sure. Anyone can eat at the Tumbleweed. But she’s always busy.”

Grant heard someone in the background ask who was on the phone. The boy obviously covered the mouthpiece before saying, “Some dude wants Mom. Okay, okay, Lisa. Uh…I’ve gotta go,” the kid said. And he hung up.

The Tumbleweed wasn’t hard to find in the directory. The place was open until ten, which gave Grant plenty of time to get the kids some takeout once Brandy got home. He just had to come up with a good excuse for leaving after dinner.

Greeting her at the door when her friend’s mother dropped her off, he took in his daughter’s smiling face. “Did you have fun with Kiley?”

“Uh-huh. She has a puppy. He’s so cute. Can I get one?”

“We’ll see. Puppies need a lot of care and attention.”

“I know. Kiley’s mama said puppies are like babies. The vet gave Kiley a book that’s got everything a pet owner needs to know. She said I can borrow it. I’ll bet Ryan would help me.”

“Help you what?” Brandy’s brother suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“My friend Kiley has a new shih tzu. I’m trying to talk Daddy into getting me a puppy from the same breeder.”

“I’d rather have a real dog. Like a shepherd,” Ryan said. “I came out to see when dinner is. I’m starved. What are we eating tonight?”

Grant reached for a folder of take-out menus. “I thought pizza. You two decide what kind.” He hesitated. He ought to eat with the kids. But then what excuse could he give Rebecca for going to the Tumbleweed? “I’ll place the order and give you the money to pay the delivery boy. I have an errand to run. I’ll grab something while I’m out.”

“What kind of errand?” Ryan asked, sounding suspicious. “You haven’t gone out at night by yourself since we moved here.”

Ignoring Ryan, Grant passed the pizza menu to his daughter.

Brandy wrinkled her nose. “Why can’t we have real food, Daddy? Kiley’s mom was baking chicken and it smelled so yummy.”

“That’s what moms do, kid,” Ryan said, plucking the menu from her hand. “Dads are pretty much worthless in the kitchen.”

“I beg your pardon. Some of the world’s greatest chefs are men,” Grant protested.

“You, then,” Ryan stressed. “Why don’t you hire a cook like you did in Germany?”

Brandy climbed onto one of the breakfast-bar stools. “I don’t want a cook. I want a mom.”

“Brandy, don’t be a dork. Moms aren’t as easy to get as puppies.”

“I am not a dork, Ryan,” Brandy said huffily. “Our room mom, Mrs. Sanchez, is supernice, Daddy. I’ll bet you’d like her. Manny Sanchez says it’s awful not having a dad to help at home.”

Ryan smacked his sister lightly on the head with the menu. “You are so lame. For parents to hook up they have to meet, hold hands and kiss. Can you picture Dad kissing your room mom—or anyone else?”

“All right, you two,” Grant said loudly. “Enough with trying to arrange my love life. What kind of pizza will it be tonight?”

“Hamburger and tomato,” Ryan said. “And I wasn’t arranging anything. I was explaining to Brandy how low the chances are that any woman would want to date you.”

Grant glared at his son as he dialed the pizza parlor’s number. “I’d like to place an order. One large tomato-hamburger pizza for delivery.” When he hung up, he realized Ryan’s declaration had shaken him. Grant had never considered himself vain. However, as he set out money for the pizza it was all he could do not to recheck his appearance in the mirror. How would Rebecca Geroux see him? But he refused to admit any interest in the woman beyond explaining that he really couldn’t help her.

“I’ll be back before Brandy’s bedtime,” he muttered, his hand on the doorknob.

“Will you look at puppies while you’re out?” Brandy pleaded. “Oh, and remember you said you’d look at clarinets.”

“Not tonight, honey. We’ll make time for that soon, though.”

Ryan glanced up from returning the menu to the take-out folder. “I have plans for the last weekend next month. Saturday afternoon and evening,” he said. “I thought I’d tell you in advance since you didn’t bother to ask if I was busy tonight. You just expect me to watch Brandy anytime it suits you.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan. If you have plans, I can do this another night.” Grant, who was partway out the door, turned back.

Ryan was obviously spoiling for a fight, and his flustered backtracking was almost comical. “I’m staying in tonight,” he mumbled. “But from here on, you’d better check with me first, all right?”

“That’s fair, Ryan. I want us all to get along.”

“Well, okay then,” the boy said, sounding surprised.

AFTER REVERSING his car out to the street, Grant massaged the tension from his neck. He shouldn’t have waited so long to start being a father to his kids. Work had always been his excuse. Now he had to feel his way through the minefield that Ryan, especially, delighted in laying down.

At the first turn, Grant punched the address for the Tumbleweed Steakhouse into his GPS, and he thought about seeing Rebecca again. How long had she been on her own? he wondered. Long enough to be back to dating? For all he knew she might already be seeing someone.

He found the restaurant easily enough, but hesitated about going inside. He wasn’t at all confident as to how he’d be received.

The minute he crossed the threshold, he spotted her. She didn’t see him, so he helped himself to a table near the door and noted what had attracted him earlier. The fiery hair had all but crackled in the sunlight that streamed in the café window that morning. Now, under the overhead lights, it was more muted, but still shone.

As she joked with customers two tables away, Grant liked how her eyes stayed bright with interest in what the older couple was saying. Making people feel important was a gift. Grant quickly opened a menu he found on his table to distract himself from an unexpected rush of heat.

He heard her footsteps approach, then halt as she recognized her next customer.

“I haven’t come to cause trouble,” he assured her, meeting her startled gaze.

“Why come at all?” Her low voice hit him hard. “You made your position plain enough earlier.”

“We need to talk further.”

“Not here,” she said uneasily. “I’m working, for pity’s sake.”

“Where then?”

She tucked her order pad in the pocket of a cowprint apron. “There’s an outdoor coffee shop on the next block.” She jerked her head. “I’m due a fifteenminute break soon, but you go on ahead. I’ll ask another waitress to cover my tables.”

“Is this your way of getting rid of me?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she insisted. “I’ll be along shortly. You can order me an iced coffee.”

Grant had been looking forward to one of those steaks that made his mouth water. And the talk he’d had in mind would probably take more than fifteen minutes. But he supposed even this much was a start.

Unfolding from his chair, he ambled out. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rebecca pull aside a blond waitress in a matching apron. Ouch, he could almost feel the glare that one sent him with her flinty gray eyes.

As he shut the door behind him, he remembered Ryan’s remark about the four little boys at the game belonging to someone Rebecca worked with. The boys were blond, too, so it fit. Grant peeked in through the window, wondering how much Rebecca would tell her friend about him. Most of his concern was about how quickly Ryan might hear of this meeting. He’d see this as his dad going behind his back.

Nothing to be done about that now.

Grant found the coffee shop easily enough. He bought them each a coffee and claimed a table away from the foot traffic on the River Walk. He’d barely set napkins under the cups when Rebecca slid gracefully into the chair across from him at the small, wrought-iron table. A lantern hanging from the brick building rained golden light down on her, accenting distinctive cheekbones.

Suddenly a light, flower-scented perfume had him imagining secret meetings in more intimate settings.

“So, talk already,” she said, peeling the lid off her coffee cup. “I don’t have long. I hope you’re here to say you’ve had second thoughts, and that you were able to convince your son to break up with my daughter.”

He shook his head, as much to focus his mind as to deny having any success.

She took a sip of coffee, and frowned. “Then what’s this all about?”

Grant set his cup down. “Why are you so set on meddling in their lives?” he asked, leaning toward her. “Do you hate all men, or just those interested in your daughter?”

“How dare you judge me!” Rebecca stiffened noticeably.

“I asked Ryan if he’d like to invite some of his friends and their parents to our house for a barbecue. I hoped it would open up a dialogue and maybe he’d mention Lisa. Ryan said you weren’t overly friendly.”

“I was rude.” She blew out a sigh. “I’d just learned that Lisa’s grades were slipping. I believe it’s because she’s smitten with your son. I want so much more for her. For her and my son, Jordan.”

“And ‘more’ doesn’t include falling in love and getting married?”

Rebecca’s eyes flashed angrily, and Grant held up a hand. “Whoa! Don’t get me wrong. I have no idea how tight Ryan and Lisa are. We agree on one thing, though. I don’t want my son getting married at his age, either. So far as I know, he’s collegebound, too.”

“So far as you know? He should’ve applied and been accepted somewhere by now.”

Grant fought to contain his irritation. “So maybe fathers and sons don’t share confidences like moms and daughters do.”

She studied him over the rim of her cup. “Lisa and I used to be close. She’s changed. It’s not just the grades and the boyfriend. Recently she lashed out at me, saying her father wouldn’t be as mean as I am. That hurt a lot.”

Silence stretched between them. “Then you’re divorced?”

“Yes. Since Lisa was two. Jordan’s never even seen his father.”

“Shouldn’t he be involved? Instead of coming to me for help, maybe you should be going to him.”

“That’s not an option. I know it sounds cold to you, and I don’t expect you to understand. I did hear somewhere that your wife died, which makes our situations completely different.”

Grant took a swig of his coffee. “How do you figure that?”

“The saga of my marriage would take way more time than we have.” Rebecca glanced at her watch. “I need to get back to work.”

“And we still don’t have a solution to your problem. I think our kids have a big date at the end of next month.”

“A big date? Doing what?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll see if I can find out. Maybe we should meet again after I do. Could be just a harmless outing.” Grant twirled his cup in aimless circles. “Rebecca, I’ll tell you something I was reluctant to bring up earlier. I have a…bumpy relationship with my son. I wondered if you might have some tips about how I could get closer to him. If I can do that, I’d have more influence.” He held up a hand. “I know that look. Just spit it out. You think I’m a bad father.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all. I saw where you live. Your kids have a good life. Nice house. Nice cars. You’re retired at what…fortyish?”

“Forty-two. Feels like more,” he joked.

“Well, you look like life’s treated you fine,” Rebecca drawled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I completely forgot about your wife’s death. Sometimes I speak before I think.”

His expression darkened a moment. “Listen, I’ll keep it short, but you seem to have gotten the wrong impression. It sounds like we’ve both had our troubles.”

Grant’s hands tightened around his cup, and he cleared his throat. “I grew up in Virginia. All I ever wanted to do was fly airplanes. I couldn’t get into the Air Force Academy because my family didn’t have the political connections. I went to college and applied to officers’ candidate school instead. While I was waiting to hear, I fell in with a party crowd. My folks gave me grief, but on weekends I tended to bunk at the frat house even though I’d already graduated. One night they threw a really wild party with plenty of booze. All the sorority girls came, and one latched on to me. Teresa. We got smashed, and she smuggled me into her dorm room for the night. That pretty much says it all, but we avoided each other after that. A few weeks later, on the day I heard I’d been accepted into an air force fast-track flight program, Teresa showed up at my parents’ house, bawling her eyes out, carrying a pregnancy test.”

Without thinking, Rebecca reached across the table and gripped his hand.

“That’s not the end of my story, I’m sorry to say. Do you have time for the rest?”

“A few minutes,” she said, checking her watch again.

Grant began tying his paper napkin in square knots to keep his hands busy. “I’d only been with Teresa that one night. Naturally I questioned whether I was actually the father. She totally lost it, screaming that she wasn’t the type of girl to sleep around. She swore to my parents that she loved me, and thought I loved her. Of course they believed her over me. She had the test as proof.”

Grant stuffed the napkin in his cup and scrubbed both hands across his face. “My folks pushed for a wedding. I already knew I had to do the right thing, so I let Mom arrange one at their house. She offered to have Teresa stay with them while I was in San Antonio for my training. I probably should’ve objected.”

“The result was Ryan, I assume.”

“No. Our daughter was stillborn at seven months. You’ll probably think the worst of me, Rebecca, but in some ways I was relieved. I’d had a taste of flying, and had my career in sight. Still, this was my daughter and I owed Teresa support. I flew home on emergency leave. It felt like visiting a stranger. I didn’t love her. But I should never have told her then that I wanted a divorce. I was an insensitive jerk and she certainly let me know that.”

“Oh, no. Teresa was grieving.”

“I grieved, too, when I arranged to have our baby buried. I took flowers to Rachel’s grave whenever I was in Virginia. Teresa never went. Not once. And she never let me forget what a bastard I’d been. I know now it was a mistake, but I wanted to avoid her anger as much as possible. I frequently requested duty assignments abroad.”

“I’d feel sorrier, probably, if you hadn’t ended up having two more kids.”

“I don’t blame you for judging me. But I was a faithful husband, although Teresa didn’t believe it. Not even after I suggested a second baby might improve our marriage.”

“It rarely does,” Rebecca murmured, then pushed back her chair and stood.

Grant glanced at his watch. “By my calculations you have three minutes left on your break. Come, I’ll walk you back.”

Rebecca seemed flustered by the offer and Grant wondered how long it had been since anyone had taken care of her. In an obvious attempt to cover her embarrassment, she straightened their chairs, picked up the cups and dropped them in a trash can as they left their table.

Grant had to lengthen his stride to keep up with Rebecca’s faster pace. He set a hand lightly on her waist to guide her around a family of four who were strolling leisurely beside the river.

She tensed under his touch and walked even faster.

“Hey, slow down. Where’s the fire?” He reached for her left hand, slowing her mad dash. “Ah…may I ask if you’re currently seeing anyone? Dating, I mean?” he added, seeing Rebecca’s confusion.

“Heavens, no. Working in the salon all day, then waiting tables at night and on weekends doesn’t leave time for a social life.”

“You work every weekend?”

“Saturdays. I have Sundays off. That’s when I do laundry, run errands and catch up on all the other household tasks.”

They had reached the Tumbleweed. But before Rebecca could open the door and escape from him, Grant spoke up. “I want to see you again. I could bring lunch to your salon. Tomorrow, or any other day that’s convenient.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because…well, because our kids are involved and you object. I’m not sure I do, but I’m willing to talk about it more.”

“Even though you don’t want to confront Ryan.”

“I want his respect. And yours,” Grant said pointedly.

Rebecca wavered. She tried to avoid his gaze, but his brilliant blue eyes held hers, until she felt her shoulders relax.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, with a tentative smile.

“It’s crazy,” she said. “I have no insights. And we’ve both been hurt before.”

“People heal. Do you ever think about that?”

Rebecca lowered her chin. “Lisa and Jordan have been my life,” she said softly. “I haven’t gone out with anyone since my divorce.”

“Listen, I’m only saying I feel something…a spark. I think you feel it, too. Why not see where it leads?”

“I repeat, it’s crazy. Say I agree to lunch, maybe the day after tomorrow,” she said, scrambling to remember her appointment schedule. “That’s not going to change my mind about not wanting my daughter to date your son. That’s a whole separate issue, Grant.”

“Absolutely. You and I are adults. They’re kids.” Grant casually leaned against the side of the building.

“You’re right about that. But I won’t give up trying to convince you to help me.” She gave him directions to her salon and they set a time to meet.

“So we’re set? I’ll bring sandwiches. Is there someplace we can go to eat and talk?” he asked.

“There’s a park across the street. It has great paths we can explore.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips for just a moment, then she opened the restaurant door. “It’s easy to see where Ryan gets his charm. I think I’m more worried about Lisa than ever.”

“Don’t be. We’ll put our heads together and find a solution that will work out for everyone, Becca.”

“No one’s ever called me Becca. I kind of like it.” She brushed two fingers over Grant’s jaw.

Before he could react and do what he’d wanted to do since he’d gotten a whiff of her tantalizing perfume earlier that evening, she hurried inside. Damn. He wondered just what he’d agreed to do. Grant hoped he hadn’t promised to work against his son, not when they so badly needed to find common ground.

LISA GEROUX had set her alarm so she could get up early. She dressed quietly, then filled her backpack with her schoolbooks. She made sure not to let her bedroom door squeak when she opened it. Glancing up and down the hall, she was relieved to see her mother’s door stayed closed.

Feeling she owed Jordan an explanation for leaving without him, since they usually rode the school bus together, she slipped silently into his room. His messy room. Sheesh, she wasn’t a neat freak, but if she didn’t break her neck in here it’d be a miracle.

Reaching his side without mishap, she knelt and clapped a hand over her brother’s mouth while she shook him awake.

“Mm-mm-mm!” he gurgled, flailing his arms wildly.

“Jordan, hush! It’s me.” She didn’t remove her hand until his eyes focused blearily on her face.

“What the heck are you doing? I thought I was being smothered!”

“Shh, keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake Mom. I’m leaving now, so I won’t be taking the bus.”

“What time is it?” Jordan asked with a massive yawn. He squinted at his bedside clock. “It’s 6:00 a.m. Is it even light out?” He peered past her to the window.

“Almost. I’m off to meet Ryan. I’ll catch a ride to school with him.”

“Mom’s going to be so pissed off.”

“That’s why he can’t pick me up here. He’s freaked out because his dad showed up at his game. Ryan thinks he’s spying on us.”

“Sounds more like something Mom would do.”

“I know. She’s got it in her head that if I have a boyfriend I won’t go to college.”

“She’s probably seen the silly girls at school who throw themselves at jocks. Most couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were printed on the heel. It’s the same with the jocks.”

“Ryan’s not like that. He said he’s been looking into colleges for a while now.”

“Saying doesn’t make it so.”

Lisa sprang to her feet. “Now you sound like Mom. I’m out of here.”

“Hey,” Jordan called after her. “What am I supposed to tell Mom?”

“Whatever! I don’t care. She thinks I don’t appreciate her saintly dedication to making sure she eats with us twice a day. You know, Dad wouldn’t treat us like babies.” Lisa wanted to slam Jordan’s door, but forced herself to close it quietly.

She did the same with the front door, although she was careful to make sure it locked. She hoped Ryan remembered to pick her up at the convenience store two blocks away. Most of her friends, even kids a lot younger, had their own cell phones. Lisa had never asked for one. But did her mother give her credit for that? No. She acted like she was the only one who made sacrifices.

Lisa reached the store. No Ryan. She used the quarters in her lunch sack to call him from the pay phone. That was another thing. Three out of five days she made her lunch and Jordan’s and didn’t get any thanks.

“Ryan?” Lisa heard breathing when the ringing stopped, but no one spoke. “It’s Lisa.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Aren’t we meeting like we said?” This wasn’t going as smoothly as she’d hoped. “I’m at the convenience store on South Zarzamora. Two blocks from my house.”

“Does your mother know?”

“Why should I tell her?” Lisa asked flippantly. “Anyway, she worked late and won’t be up yet. Listen, I’ll buy you a couple of doughnuts.”

“Uh, Lisa, maybe this isn’t such a hot idea. Last night my dad left the phone book open at the page with the restaurant where you work. And he went out for a while but didn’t tell us where he was going.”

“Do you think he went there?”

“I’m not sure. Brandy said he acted funny when he saw us together at the game. I don’t want to cause trouble for you or your mom.”

“I’ll have to walk to school if you don’t pick me up. I thought we had this planned.”

“Okay, Lisa. Jeez. Traffic is crazy this time of the morning and there’s no sidewalk along that street. Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” she said, and felt the knot in her stomach begin to uncoil.

RYAN HAD already showered and dressed. He needed to get a head start on an English paper, but now he tossed his books into a duffel bag with his baseball gear.

He pressed an ear to his father’s bedroom door to check if the colonel was up or not. Ryan would rather not get caught on his way out to meet Lisa.

In Germany, he hadn’t had to deal with his father wanting to know what he did with his time. Now, the colonel asked dumb stuff, like how were Ryan’s classes? Was there anyone he needed to talk to at the high school? This was a new development, and Ryan bristled over the colonel’s sudden need to micromanage his life. Ryan and a counselor had looked over his records from Ramstein. They’d chosen classes suited for a college track. As for baseball, he didn’t give a damn if his father came to any games. He never had in Germany or anywhere else. What the colonel didn’t understand was that he didn’t automatically get to be a dad, just because he had decided to retire and work from home.