About That Man (7 page)

“How come you keep looking out the door?” Tommy asked eventually. “You've already burned one waffle
because you weren't paying attention. Looks to me like the next one is going to go any second now.”

She whirled around just in time to see the steam coming from the waffle iron turn to something that looked suspiciously like smoke. “Blast it,” she said, yanking it open to reveal a waffle almost beyond edible.

“It's okay. I'll take it,” Tommy said, holding out his plate. “Looks like it's the best I'm going to get this morning.”

“Very funny, young man,” she said as she tossed it into the trash instead. “The next one will be perfect. You'll see.”

“I hope so,” Tommy told her, “'Cause I'm about starved to death.”

Daisy carefully spooned more batter onto the waffle iron and closed it, then faced Tommy. “Now that you've had some time to sleep on everything that happened yesterday, what did you think of your uncle?”

Tommy's face scrunched up. He shrugged. “He was okay, I guess.”

“You weren't very nice to him.”

Tommy frowned. “Why should I be? I just said what you were thinking. We talked about it, remember? You don't know why he abandoned my mom either.”

“Maybe I didn't understand it before he and I talked, but I do now,” Daisy told the boy. “He deserves a chance to explain it so you'll understand it, too. He told you yesterday that he tried really, really hard to find her.”

“And you bought that?” Tommy said scathingly.

She nodded slowly. “He sounded sincere. And it is true that your mom didn't have a lot of the identification papers that most adults have, like a driver's license and car registration. She always rode a bike.”

“Because she liked the exercise,” Tommy said defensively.

“True, but she didn't have a Social Security number, either.”

“I don't even know what that is,” Tommy said. “But if she didn't have it, it was 'cause she didn't want it.”

Daisy grinned. “I know that, but most grown-ups do have one. Some kids, too, if they want to get jobs. All of those things would have helped your uncle to find her.”

“He should have tried harder. He must be a really lousy cop,” Tommy said stubbornly.

Daisy sighed. She knew better than to push too hard. Even in just a few days, she had seen that Tommy didn't respond well to pressure. He had a definite mind of his own, and she was a big believer in a child's right to his own opinions. She could only try to shape them a little at a time. Besides, how much of her faith in Walker's sincerity was because she wanted to believe he was a good man for her own reasons? If she lost Tommy, she needed to believe he was with someone who could love him the way he deserved to be loved.

Well, the proof would come soon enough. If Walker didn't show up this morning, it would pretty much confirm Tommy's low opinion of him. She sighed again and opened the waffle iron just in the nick of time, finally managing one that was golden brown and steaming hot.

She put it on Tommy's plate, then sat across from him.

“You ain't gonna have one?” he asked as he slathered butter into every little nook, then poured maple syrup over it.

“Not yet.”

“How come?”

“I thought I'd wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Because she didn't want to bring up Walker's name again, she said, “Until I've had another cup of coffee. I'm still half-asleep.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him. “Yeah, Mom used to say the same thing, except sometimes I thought it was because she knew we only had enough for one person and she wanted me to have it.”

Daisy felt her eyes sting for this little boy who saw too much, and for the mother who'd tried so hard to give him a better life. Beth Flanagan had worn clothes until they were practically threadbare, but she'd brought Tommy to church every Sunday in slacks that had been neatly pressed and a white shirt and tie. His shoes had been polished and his hair combed. She would have been horrified to see him dressed the way Daisy had found him.

“Your mom was very special,” she told Tommy.

He nodded. “She was the best. I just wish she hadn't had to work so much. That's why she got sick, 'cause she was so tired all the time.” His expression turned serious. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Where do you think she is now?” he asked, his lip quivering. “Is she really in heaven like Anna-Louise says? Am I ever gonna get to see her again?” As if a dam had burst, his tears began to flow unchecked.

Daisy opened her arms and Tommy scrambled into them. “Oh, sweetheart, I know that's where she is, and she's up there looking out for you every single second. It's like having your own private angel.”

“That's good, isn't it?” Tommy asked, swiping impatiently at his face with a napkin.

“Very good.”

A sigh shuddered through him. “I just wish I could see her.”

“You will someday,” Daisy told him.

“But I mean now. What if I forget what she looked like?”

“You won't, I promise you. And you have pictures, don't you?”

He shook his head. “She took lots and lots of pictures of me, but we never took any of her.”

Daisy heard a sound at the back door and looked up to see Walker standing there, his expression unreadable.

“I have some photos you could have,” he said to Tommy as he came inside. “Of course, they were taken when Beth was just a girl.”

Excitement and wariness warred on Tommy's face. “You mean I could have 'em, like, forever?”

“Absolutely,” Walker said, still standing just inside the door as if he were uncertain of his welcome.

“When?”

“The minute I go home I'll find them for you.”

Tommy hung back, still tucked against Daisy's side. “Am I gonna have to go away with you?”

Walker cast a desperate look toward Daisy, then said, “That's something we'll have to talk about.”

“I don't want to,” Tommy said, his expression belligerent.

“I can understand that,” Walker said.

Tommy's expression faltered. “You can?”

“Sure. You don't really know me. And I don't know you. That makes it a pretty scary prospect for both of us.”

“I ain't scared,” Tommy insisted.

Walker barely managed to hide a smile. Daisy caught the quick twitch of his lips and admired the fact that he didn't want Tommy to detect his amusement.

“Then we'll just leave it that I am,” he told Tommy.

“Do you got any kids?”

“Two,” Walker told him, his expression sad. “They don't live with me, though. They live with their mother in North Carolina.”

“You live by yourself?” Tommy asked. “Or do you have a girlfriend?”

This time Walker did grin. “No girlfriend.”

“How come? You're not too bad-looking.”

Daisy chuckled at the massive understatement, then blushed when she caught Walker's speculative gaze on her.

“No time,” Walker said. “That's why my wife took the kids and moved away, because my job took up too much of my time.”

Tommy seemed to be trying to absorb this, his expression intense. “Then you wouldn't really have any time for a kid like me, either, would you?”

Walker looked startled by his insight. “I'd make time, if that's what we decide is best,” he promised.

“Would you take me to a baseball game sometimes?” Tommy asked. “I like the Orioles a lot, but I've never been to see a game.”

“We could do that,” Walker said. “I like baseball, too.”

“How about fishing? Do you like to fish?”

Walker nodded. “Do you?”

“A whole lot,” Tommy said. “Mom didn't. She thought the worms were disgusting. Sometimes she'd go with me, though, as long as I put the bait on her hook.”

Walker nodded. “Sounds like a fair arrangement.”

“I've got a boat,” Tommy announced. “It's not much to look at. It's just an old rowboat I found washed up on the beach, you know, before…”

“Before what?”

“Before my mom died. I haven't had much time to work on it yet, but it don't sink or nothing. I'm saving up to buy some paint for it.”

He inched away from Daisy and approached Walker with caution. “I could take you to see it,” he said hesitantly. “If you wanted. Daisy and her brothers helped me bring it over here a couple of days ago. It's down by the river.”

“I'd like that,” Walker said.

Tommy nodded solemnly, then turned to Daisy. “You want to come, too?” His expression brightened. “Maybe we could have a picnic. I'll make the sandwiches, so it won't be too much work for you.”

Daisy chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Why don't you and Walker go on ahead? I'll make the sandwiches and bring everything with me in a little while.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked. “I don't mind helping.”

“I'm sure,” she said, and sent them on their way.

She wanted time to compose herself. Seeing the fragile bond blossoming between Tommy and his uncle had shaken her. So had seeing Walker, for that matter. He was entirely too appealing, entirely too masculine. She liked the way his sun-streaked brown hair curled a little at the nape of his neck, the lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes.

And his cautious, sensitive handling of Tommy had unsettled her. Daisy wanted desperately to hate him, wanted to believe he was unfit to take Tommy away from her, but he was destroying all of her illusions about that.

He might not want Tommy yet. He might be uncertain how he was going to fit a ten-year-old into his bachelor life, but suitable? Oh, yes, he was father material. He might doubt it, but she didn't. It had become very clear to her in the last few minutes.

Once he realized it, too, then what? She hated the empty feeling that settled inside her as she thought about letting Tommy go. She was pretty sure the sensation had a lot to do with her heart breaking.

T
ommy was a chatterbox. Somehow that surprised Walker. After the boy's distance the night before and his caution earlier, Walker had expected a lot of uncomfortable silence when they went to look at this rowboat Tommy had rescued from the beach.

Instead, it was as if something inside of Tommy had been unleashed. Not that Walker thought the boy had decided to trust him. He suspected Tommy had just been longing for a male to talk to about all the things he didn't feel he could share with his mom. He'd been glad to learn that Tommy had never gotten to know his father. Maybe it was stubbornness or selfishness on his part, but he didn't think Ryan Flanagan could possibly have given anything positive to this boy beyond the donation of his sperm to give him life.

“What should I call you?” Tommy asked eventually.

“Uncle Walker or just plain Walker. It's up to you.”

“Okay. I guess I'll call you Uncle Walker. I never had a real uncle before.”

Walker refrained from pointing out that he'd had one all along. He had no idea why Beth had kept that fact from her son. Maybe, as Frances had suggested, she'd simply
had too much pride to turn to her brother or even acknowledge his existence until she felt she had her life under control. Maybe she'd grown tired of having Walker judge the decisions she'd made. Whatever the reason, Walker couldn't help feeling that he'd let her down badly even though he'd been little more than a teenager himself when she'd run off. That she'd come so close to having her life on track, maybe even to making that fateful call that would have reunited them, broke his heart.

When he and Tommy reached the narrow stretch of sandy beach down a sloping hill from Daisy's house, Tommy left Walker's side and raced ahead.

“It's right over here,” he called excitedly. “Wait till you see. We should have brought fishing poles. We could have taken her out.”

By the time Walker neared, Tommy was sitting on the pale golden sand, tugging off his shoes and rolling up his pant legs. He scrambled up and grabbed Walker's hand to half drag him toward the most pitiful specimen of sea-worthiness Walker had ever seen. Whoever had abandoned the boat had obviously known what they were doing.

“You haven't taken this out on the river, have you?” he asked, trying to keep a note of panic from his voice.

“Not yet. I've been scraping off the paint and stuff, getting it ready. My buddy Gary—he's older than me, but really, really cool—anyway, he's been helping me, when he's got the time. See how smooth it is?” he demanded, pride shining in his eyes.

The weathered wood was smooth, all right, and probably rotted straight through, Walker concluded after closer examination. He was fairly certain he could see daylight between some of the planks. He knew better than
to criticize it, though, or to warn Tommy away from it. He had to figure out another approach that would retain the boy's enthusiasm, while still keeping him from capsizing.

“You've done a lot of work,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

“Every day. Mom said it looked like a pile of junk, but I could see right off that it had potential. I mean, how else is a kid like me gonna get a boat? This one was free. It just needs a little attention.”

Sort of like Tommy himself, Walker guessed. “What does Daisy think of it?” He imagined she would be even more horrified than he was.

A little of Tommy's excitement died. “She just told me never, never to take it out in the water unless she was right here on shore where she could watch me.” He stared at Walker, radiating disbelief. “Like I'm some kind of a baby or something.”

“No, she's just being smart. A good boater always tests his craft to make sure it's seaworthy before taking it out to sea. After all, her brother probably knows a whole lot about boats. He's bound to have taught her a few things.”

“I guess,” Tommy said.

“Listen to her,” Walker advised. “And maybe Bobby and I can help you with some of this work so it'll get done faster.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “Really?”

“I don't see why not.” He reached in his pocket for his ever-present notebook and pen. Fortunately this one didn't yet have notes on an ongoing investigation. “Let's sit here and make a list of what we'll need. Then you and I can go to the hardware store or the marina after lunch.”

“Okay,” Tommy said eagerly, plopping onto the sand at Walker's side. “Maybe Gary can come over, too.”

“Sure,” Walker agreed. “Now what should I put on this list?”

“First of all, I think we need blue paint. And maybe white for the trim.” He gazed at Walker. “What do you think?”

“I think those would be terrific colors for a boat. Now how about some caulk to make sure those planks are sealed nice and tight?”

Tommy nodded. “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” He snuck a hopeful glance at Walker. “And it doesn't have any oars.”

Walker made a note. “Then we'll definitely buy some oars.”

“And more sandpaper. I've about used up all I could find in Daisy's garage.” He blushed a fiery red. “She gave it to me when we brought the boat over last week after she said I could stay. I didn't steal it or nothing.”

“Good. Daisy strikes me as the kind of person who'd let you have just about anything as long as you ask first.”

Tommy nodded. “Daisy's the best. Sometimes she can be pretty strict and stuff, but I think that's just because she never had any kids of her own. She worries a lot that I'm gonna break something.”

Walker frowned. He didn't want Daisy turning his nephew into some sort of sissy who had to worry about the breakables in her house. “You mean like those little porcelain things in her living room?”

“No, you know, bones and stuff.”

Walker's brief flare of indignation died at once. Laughter bubbled up inside him, which he repressed for the sake of Tommy's dignity. “Yeah, I can see where she might worry about that.”

“I guess it's a girl thing, huh? Mom used to get crazy about stuff like that, too.”

Walker nodded, wondering if he would ever share a moment like this with his own sons, regretting that he'd lost so much time with them. He tousled Tommy's hair.

“Definitely a girl thing,” he agreed. “Not that I think you should be testing your luck by climbing onto the roof or anything.”

“Nah,” Tommy said. “There's nothing up there, anyway.”

A niggling sense of dismay crept through Walker. “How do you know that?”

“I looked out the bedroom window,” Tommy said reasonably.

Walker breathed a sigh of relief. For a minute he'd wondered how Daisy had kept her sanity with Tommy around even for the week or so he'd been here, but apparently under that adventurous streak, the kid had been imbued with a healthy dose of common sense. Since he'd only been with Daisy briefly, that had to be Beth's doing. Obviously, for Tommy to turn out this well, Walker's little sister had to have gotten her act together. If only…

He sighed. Thinking about what could have—or should have—been was a waste of energy.

He glanced up just then and spotted Daisy scrambling awkwardly across the deep sand, lugging a picnic hamper that must have weighed a ton, and with a blanket tucked under her arm. She was barefooted and wearing khaki shorts that displayed very attractive legs. Her T-shirt was neatly tucked in, a prim touch that at the same time managed to emphasize just how tiny her waist was.

Walker started to rise to go and help her, but she waved him off.

“I've got it. It's not as heavy as it looks. Tommy, you could take this blanket, though.”

As she neared, Walker didn't miss the dismayed glance Daisy gave to the rowboat before she set the hamper down and began spreading out the blanket.

“The sand's still damp and cold,” she told him. “You shouldn't be sitting on it.”

Tommy groaned. “See, I told you she worries about everything.”

Daisy looked embarrassed. “I do not. I just try to be sensible.”

“Then, by all means, let me join you on the blanket,” Walker said, deliberately crowding her when he sat down. He stretched out his long legs until he was virtually thigh to thigh with her. “You're right. This is definitely warmer.”

She shot him a knowing look. “Very amusing.”

“My goal is to entertain.”

Tommy stood stock-still in front of them, a frown puckering his brow. “You two look kinda funny. You like each other, don't you?”

“We hardly know each other,” Daisy protested defensively.

“I think he's concerned about whether or not we are capable of getting along,” Walker said, his voice threaded with amusement. Her quick denial had been way too telling. She was definitely still thinking about that kiss the night before.

Of course, to his consternation, so was he. And despite his attempt to clear his head earlier, he was a very long way from knowing what he intended to do about it.

 

Daisy wanted to shrivel up and die. How could she have imagined that Tommy was asking if the two of them were
becoming a couple? Why would a ten-year-old even imagine such a thing about two people who'd just met?

Of course, a case could be made that a thirty-year-old woman ought to know better, too. And hadn't she been imagining that very thing herself more than once in the last twenty-four hours?

Focus on the food, she instructed herself firmly. She couldn't get into trouble if she was dutifully playing the proper hostess role she'd been taught to perform all her life. In a houseful of men, it had been up to her to see that social events ran smoothly, that their guests' needs were met.

“Is anyone hungry?” she asked, aware that her voice sounded a little too determinedly cheerful.

“I am,” Tommy said at once.

“Why do I suspect that you always are?” Walker teased. “Wasn't that breakfast you were eating when I got here? And that was when, an hour ago?”

“Yes, but I'm a growing boy,” Tommy retorted, accepting the chicken sandwich Daisy handed to him along with a bag of chips. “Anything to drink?”

“Sodas and lemonade,” she said.

“I'll have a cola.”

She found one in the small cooler she'd put in the picnic hamper, popped the top and handed it to him. She risked a glance at Walker. “How about you?”

“Not just yet. I had a big breakfast not that long ago.”

“Oh?”

“I ran into some friends of yours earlier, Richard and Anna-Louise Walton.”

Daisy froze. Anna-Louise was capable of great discretion…most of the time. When she wanted certain things
to come about, she had a way of bending her own rules. “Oh? How did that happen?”

“I went out for an early morning run. They caught up with me.”

Daisy knew all about Anna-Louise's determination to get healthy. She was surprised that she was still at it two weeks after announcing her intention to join her husband on his morning runs.

“Anna-Louise actually caught up with you?” she asked skeptically.

Walker grinned. “I was jogging in place at the time.”

She chuckled. “That sounds more like it. If you ask me, she's going to kill herself, especially with summer coming on and the temperatures climbing.”

“It was barely sixty this morning, and Anna-Louise looks as if she's pretty healthy, even if she is a little out of shape. Maybe you should join her.”

Daisy regarded him intently, trying to determine if he'd deliberately meant to be insulting. His expression was totally innocent.

“I was brought up to believe that proper Southern women didn't do anything to work up a sweat,” she told him.

He gave her a puzzled look. “What do they do?”

“If they have to exert themselves at all, they glow.” She shrugged. “Same difference, if you really want to know, but it's the one thing about which my father and I are in total agreement. I'm not going out and making a public spectacle of myself running around the streets of Trinity Harbor.”

“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, I thought you were more of an enlightened woman than that. Physical fitness is essential for
men and women. Unless, of course, you want to die young.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a look of dismay passed over his face. He turned in Tommy's direction, but fortunately the boy had grown tired of their company and was down by the river's edge skipping stones.

“Oh, God, what was I thinking?” he murmured. “What if he had heard me?”

“He didn't.”

“But he could have. He would have thought I was criticizing his mother. I'm sure of it.”

“Then you would have explained.”

“How?”

“By telling him that it was just an offhand remark, that it had nothing to do with what happened to his mother, though the sad truth is, she might not have died if she'd taken better care of herself. She worked too hard. She was physically exhausted. And when she caught the flu, she didn't see a doctor right away.”

“Why not?” Walker asked. “Didn't she have insurance?”

Daisy rested her hand on his forearm, felt the muscle tense. “Any doctor around here would have seen her whether she had insurance or not. She didn't go because she didn't realize how sick she was. How many people do you know who just assume they have to weather the flu, let it run its course? I'm sure that was what Beth thought, too. When one of her bosses came by to check on her, she realized how bad things were and insisted Beth go to the hospital, but it was already too late.”

Walker looked tormented by the image she had painted.
“It's not your fault,” she told him gently. “You couldn't do anything if she wouldn't turn to you. None of us could.”

“And you can live with that?” he asked bitterly.

“I have to. So do you.” She touched his cheek until he turned to face her. “We have to for Tommy's sake, because if we don't, he could start to blame himself. He was the one with her day and night, the one struggling to nurse her. He did the best he could, because she didn't tell him that she needed more help than he could give.”