Yours, Mine & Ours

Chapter Eleven

Well, Amanda thought, she’d handled that reasonably well. Or as well as she possibly could have. Mike hadn’t guessed she was upset. Neither of the kids sensed anything was wrong…although Molly was still sneaking questions at bedtime.

“I think you’re going to be a prosecuting attorney when you grow up,” Amanda said as she snuggled Molly in fresh sheets and her favorite doll of the week.

“I don’t know what a prosecutor attorney is.”

“It means someone who’s really good at asking questions. And at finding ways to get the answers they want.” She bent over to kiss Molly good-night. “Did you have a good time next door?”

“I told you that already. I had a great time. I didn’t scream about the worms. I just ignored Teddy when he was being awful that way. And I helped Mr. Mike in a whole lot of ways.”

“You did, huh?”

“He thinks I’m smart.”

“Everybody thinks you’re smart. Because you are.”

“I know. But he listens to me. Like I wasn’t a little kid. Like I was somebody you want to listen to.”

“Well, that’s really good.” The fairy night-light stayed on, but Amanda switched off the pink lamp with the fringe shade

“Mommy. Don’t go. I need some mommy time.”

“We can have all the mommy time you want tomorrow. But it’s late tonight.”

“Just a couple more minutes!”

Amanda wasn’t positive she could hold it together for a “couple more minutes,” but she sank back on the bed and said, “Okay, whiffer-sniffer.”

Molly giggled. “Thank you very much, Bonklewonkle.” It was an old game, always worth some smiles, but then Molly got more serious. “I don’t know what a meeting is. But I don’t like it, when I don’t know where you are.”

“A meeting is just a word to describe when people are getting together for some reason. And you may not always know where I am, Mol, but you will always, always be able to reach me. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll always have the cell phone on for you.”

“But something could happen to the cell phone. It could break. Or fall in the sink. Or drop in a lake. Or a car could run over it.”

“You’re right. Even having a very, very, very good cell phone isn’t totally foolproof. Things happen. But I would never leave you with anyone who couldn’t find another way to reach me.”

“Okay. I think. Mom.”

“What?”

“You were at the vet today, weren’t you?”

“No. Where’d you get that idea?”

“It just came into my mind. I don’t know how it got there. But if you weren’t at the vet’s, where were you?”

Amanda had prepared that answer before coming home, so it could slip off her tongue, fast and easy. “I was talking with some attorneys about some business.”

“Well, don’t talk to those attorneys again. Just talk to Mr. Mike. He’s an attorney. We don’t need any other attorneys. And then you wouldn’t have to be gone for a whole afternoon.”

“Hey. I’ve been gone lots of afternoons, and you never had a sweat before. Think of swimming with Grandma. And the Curious Kids Museum with Grandma and Grandpa. And you used to do mornings in daycare when I was working. You know I always come back.”

“I know.”

“I can’t be with you every second. And you can’t be with me every second. But that’s okay. Then we come back together and can tell each other about our adventures. Right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“So are we square?”

“We are very, very, very square. But, Mom.”

“What, hon?”

“Just don’t go wherever you went today, okay? Anywhere else is okay. But not to that meeting again.”

“I’ll try my best, ragamuffin. And now, you try your best to sleep really good, okay?”

“One more kiss?”

“Three more kisses, and don’t you dare try to escape a great big old hug, too.”

There. A few more giggles, more hugs, and finally, Amanda could ease the door closed and tiptoe out into the hall.

Her smile died; her shoulders sagged, and she lifted a shaky hand to pull the pins out of her hair. Her mother had left a message on the machine. An old friend from high school had left another message, said he’d be in town over the weekend, and hoped they could get together.

She turned the volume off the phone, switched off the light in the kitchen. She wanted a shower, to shake off the dirt of this terrible day. She wanted a glass of something alcoholic, too, but couldn’t work up enough ambition to actually get it.

Feeling boneless-tired, she sank into the blue chair in the living room and leaned forward with her head in her hands.

Most women she knew felt destroyed by a divorce. Maybe she’d been there, too, but she’d tried to see it as an opportunity to build herself into a better woman. A stronger woman. The kind of competent woman who wouldn’t just let bad things happen to her because she wasn’t strong enough to face the facts.

Well. She’d faced some facts this afternoon.

She’d failed to protect her daughter.

The only job in the universe that mattered.

She felt a claw on her ankle, sighed, and lifted Darling to her lap. A heap of purring fur leaped to the top of the chair and then delicately tried to wind herself like a scarf around Amanda’s neck. She loved both pets. Hugely. And they were overdue attention today, but just then, all she wanted was some nice, long, wallowing silence.

Somehow, someway, she had to get up the next morning.

Somehow, someway, she had to find a way to say the right maternal things to Molly.

Somehow, someway, she had to find a way to believe she hadn’t failed in everything that mattered to her.

“Hey. I knocked. But I wasn’t sure if you heard me…and the back door wasn’t locked…”

Her head shot up. The last person she expected to see was Mike, much less standing in the arch of her kitchen, holding a two-inch kitty-cat purse. The purse looked downright funny, hanging from the beefy wrist of a six-foot-two hunk.

More to the point, she’d assumed he’d be comatose by now, after dealing with two four-year-olds for most of the day. For sure he was wearing torn old jeans and a tee that looked as if it lost a wrestling match-it was that wrinkled and ragged. But he wasn’t.

He looked like the Mike she’d fallen in love with. Brash and unbrushed, a smile as natural as sunshine, that easy, earthy way of moving that was so purely male. It wasn’t hard to imagine him fighting down and dirty. It was easy to imagine him cleaned up, in a navy suit and white shirt, fighting to win with a forceful presence, and slow, quiet words. It was just as easy to imagine him being there, through thick and thin, no minor irritation like earthquakes or avalanches keeping him from those he loved.

He was just a bigger-than-life kind of guy. It wasn’t his fault.

But she wasn’t going to be on the list of loved ones he dug through those avalanches for. As often as she remembered the night they made love, she winced every time her heart replayed the messy hurts that showed up the next day.

And faster than pride, she straightened. Possibly she couldn’t find another fake smile today to save her life, but she tried for a normal, pleasant expression. “Aw, Mike, I’m sorry you went to the trouble. You didn’t have to bring over Molly’s purse. We’d have gotten it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. I’ve spent one-on-one time with Molly now. Once she realized she’d forgotten something as important as this-” he carefully removed the purse from his wrist and set it on the couch “-I figured there’d be hell to pay for someone. I didn’t want it to be me.”

She still couldn’t smile, but darn it, almost. “Uh-oh. Am I sensing she was a tad difficult this afternoon?”

“Are you kidding? She was perfect. I’m in love with her. She is absolutely honest. Just says everything like it is. That was cool,” he said, as if they were starting another conversation, “about the two jelly beans in the purse.”

“What? Oh. Yes. I told her, one for Teddy, one for her. I figured they’d be a conversation breaker when she first came over-”

“Great thinking, Mom. It really worked. And in the meantime…” From behind his back, he produced a sturdy box with fancy lettering. “I had something to celebrate. Had a bottle of Talisker hidden away for the past couple of years, needed an excuse to bring it out. Share a glass with me?”

“Thanks, Mike, but no. Honestly, I’m half asleep. Just really, really tired-”

“Just one short glass.”

“I’d like to, really, but just not tonight-”

It was like talking to a brick wall. Maybe he didn’t hear her, because he went into her kitchen and returned with two glasses. And maybe he couldn’t see her shaking her head.

“Very short. I promise,” he said genially, not looking at her face, just gathering the box, the glasses, some paper towels for napkins, and then settling-not on the couch or other chairs-but on the ottoman right in front of her. “You hold the glasses, okay? It’ll take me a minute to get this open.”

It was going to take him longer, because Darling leaped off Amanda’s lap and headed for Molly’s room. Princess, on the other hand, decided she’d rather sit on Mike’s lap than hers.

She loved them. But just then she wasn’t up for the cuteness of pets, or Mike this close, or Mike here at all. She’d put on a strong face all day. For Molly, she could do that. But for Mike…she wasn’t sure she could fake anything with Mike.

He didn’t act as if he noticed anything wrong. Just kept talking. “This cat has more fur than a coat. And I thought she was a kitten. You’re turning into a little white pumpkin, aren’t you…? Teddy’s at my parents’. His first overnight. It’s a big deal. He’s been afraid to be away from me at night ever since the divorce. Had nightmares when we’ve tried it. But…out of the blue, he said he wanted to, so I called them up…and they both leaped at the idea. I’ll be glued to a cell phone all night, but hoping it’ll work out okay.”

“Is that what you wanted to celebrate?”

“No, not that. I’m up for celebrating that another time-assuming he makes it all night without my being called to come get him. Okay, here you go…” He’d opened the blue box, produced the bottle and opened it, all without making the purring machine on his lap even budge. He poured equal amounts in two glasses, just filling them halfway, and handed her one, but with a caution.

“Now, this isn’t a drinking drink. It’s a sipping drink. A slow-sip-and-savor drink. The only place this is made is on the Isle of Skye. Aged ten years plus. And there’s no talking or discussion when you take your first slow sip. You just close your eyes and let it happen.”

He wasn’t talking fast; he just kept on talking in that slow, easy way of his. She couldn’t get a word in, much less an objection. She gave up, accepted the glass, and just figured she’d finish the drink quickly and then coax him to go home.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

She lowered the glass at his admonition, saw his grin.

“You don’t drink this without a toast.” He lifted his glass to hers, clinked. “To parents of four-year olds.”

“Good one.” Again she lifted the glass, but before it reached her lips, the scent hit her nose. “Hold on. What is this?”

“Scotland’s most famous single malt.”

“You mean, whiskey?”

He shot her a glower. “When you speak of Talisker, you speak in reverent tone and terms. It’s Scotch whiskey. You’ve never had it?”

“Actually, no. I’m usually a wine girl. Not that I haven’t had a mint julep or Manhattan at a party sometimes, but-”

“Okay. Another toast.” He clinked her glass again. “To virgin Talisker tasters.”

“Mike. You’re acting awfully goofy tonight.”

“Uh-huh. Taste.”

She took a slow, careful sip. Initially the liquid felt soft and smooth on her tongue, interesting, different…but that was before the fire. Flames shot internally straight to the top of her brain. Smoke whooshed out her nose, throat and possibly her ears. Embers drizzled down her esophagus. Tears welled in her eyes. Her entire living room blurred, tilted sideways.

Eventually the smoke cleared. The pale blue chairs and blueberry-blue carpet stopped moving. The soft light from the purple-and-blue Tiffany lamp looked normal again. Mike was hunched over the ottoman, less than two feet from her face, his exultant grin just full of the devil. “I knew you’d love it.”

“Love?” She opened her mouth, released some more fumes. “To tell you the truth…” She glanced at the amber liquid, considered, and couldn’t think of a single reason why she needed to tell the truth. He obviously loved the drink. “I think this may possibly be the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”

“Atta girl. Another toast. This one to redheads. But only to redheads who happened to be named Molly or Amanda.”

“Okay. Listen. I love the goofball thing. But, Mike. I’m not a big drinker, and I don’t do hangovers, and-”

“Me, either. That stopped being fun before I was nineteen. We’re not drinking a lot-I promise. Talisker is only for special occasions. You never level it. At most-no matter how much you beg-you can only have two glasses, max.”

She frowned, studying him, unsure where all his high spirits and energy and foolishness were coming from. It wasn’t as if she wanted to burst his bubble. If he had good news to share…well, that’s what being a friend was about, wasn’t it?

And especially after this afternoon, she knew she could never be more-no matter what she felt for Mike, or what she’d hoped for.

So she lifted her glass-tapped his-and said, “My turn to make a toast.”

Talk about a slow drinker. It took her a full half hour just to sip through a shot, and probably the same amount of time to level a second.

Mike never wanted her inebriated. He just wanted her to talk. She was wound so tight, he was wary that she could crack into a zillion pieces.

And even after two shots, he figured the bottom line. No amount of liquor was going to loosen her up. But maybe from exhaustion, or the late hour, she curled her bare legs under her and kind of hovered inside the pale blue wing chair.

“You told me before this that your ex was applying for partial custody. So this was it? That hearing?” By the time he got around to asking, he tried to make his voice as lazy and safe as a hum in the night.

“Yup.” She didn’t seem to want to continue, but finally, out it came. “Thom won. I lost.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s a real short story. I failed her. There’s only one darned thing in this life that I have to do right-and that’s protect Molly. And I failed big-time.”

Mike unclenched his jaw. Maybe later he’d find out Thom’s address and tar and feather the son of a seadog. But just then he was listening. And he was going to stay calm while listening if it killed him. “There has to be a little more to it.”

“Thom was pushing for joint custody. Obviously I’ve known that for a while. And here’s the thing. He’s her father. I never wanted to deny him the right to be her father, or to spend time with her. She needs her father and loves him. But damn it, Mike…”

“Keep talking.”

“It isn’t about being a dad for him. It’s about manipulation. Because when she’s over there, he’s somehow an absentee. There’ll be some woman friend of his that does the babysitting. He doesn’t actually want joint custody, because he doesn’t spend half the time with her that he could. He just wants not to have to pay me child support.”

“Keep talking.”

And about then, she bolted out of the blue wing chair, as if sitting still even a second longer was impossible. She was still wearing the navy-and-white outfit thing she’d put together for the court, but it was coming undone mighty fast now. The white shirt was no longer tucked in, no longer buttoned at the neck. She’d lost the shoes. The navy skirt was twisted around. Her hands started gesturing. The hair got wilder. She stumbled and circled and ambled around in her bare feet, not crying. Sometimes her eyes spit out some moisture, but those tears were hot and mad, not soft.

“I don’t need the child support. But I’ve been using that money to put together a college fund for Mol. He makes over six figures. Don’t you think it’s fair that he contribute?”

“Absolutely,” Mike agreed.

“I told the judge that Thom cancels half the time he sets up a visitation with Molly. I told him that he’s repeatedly left her with strange women she doesn’t know, and that often enough she comes back upset and shaken up. The judge didn’t care.”

“Who’s the judge?” Mike asked, thinking there was another tar-and-feather candidate. He knew a good number of judges, but not so many in the family court setup. She told him the name. Unfortunately all he knew about the guy was that he’d been on the bench for over a decade.

“The judge said…that unless there’s abuse or specific proof of neglect, that Thom is entitled to more time. Initially he didn’t grant equal custody. But as of right now, Thom gets an overnight every two weeks. Mike. I’m supposed to just spring this on Molly. After she just talked to me about not wanting to spend nights there!”

She spun around, and he saw her expression in the colored light from the Tiffany lamp. “Aw, Red. That’s the worst sting, isn’t it?”

“It is. This is supposed to start this coming weekend, which means I have to start talking to her about tomorrow. My job as a mom is-obviously-to make this as smooth and stress-free as I can. So I have to say something like, ‘Hey, lovebug, you know your dad loves you, and you’ll have fun on those sleepovers, and you know I’ll be there when you get back.’ So I’ll try. But, Mike, I’m afraid it’ll come out fake, because it’s such a lie. She doesn’t have a choice. How am I supposed to make her do something that I think is wrong? And make out like I think it’s okay?”

“I hear you.”

“When I got out the courtroom…Thom grabbed my hand. He said there’d be another custody hearing after this. I could count on it. And in the next one, he’d win full joint custody. That I shouldn’t kid myself. He’ll end up not paying a dime of child support.”

“Come here.”

“It’s not about the money. It’s about his using Molly in the wrong way.”

“Come here.”

“It’s about her feeling she’s lied to when she’s with him. That’s why she doesn’t feel safe there. And I always promised her that I’d protect her. And now I can’t.”

“Come here.”

She heard him, because she finally quit pacing around like a caged cat and faced him. “Mike, you can’t help me. And if you could, I wouldn’t want you to. I need to fight my own battles. And I swear, I’m trying. This is just the worst kind of thing to lose. I feel cut off at the knees. I failed my daughter.”

That was it. Mike strode over, scooped an arm under her legs, and lifted her in his arms.

He’d wanted her to talk. Well, she had. She’d spilled thoroughly. Only, now she was saying such ridiculous things that she obviously wasn’t in a reasonable mood.

And no one, but no one, could be more unreasonable than Red when she was upset.

Come to think of it…he was damned good at being unreasonable when he was upset, too. And right now, he was more than upset.

For her.

And with her.