Second Time Around (18 page)

“Great. Until then, who knows what libelous thing he might say? Her lawyers will be at our throats.”

“Hopefully not our throats. His. We’re not saying anything.”

“But Toby’s been let loose because of us. Lawsuits always trickle down. We’ll get sued.” Wriggens hesitated. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

He shook his head, then pointed at the TV. “It’s on.”

They watched the Yardley Pruitt interview—which was not much of an interview at all. The man only said two words: “No comment.” But that didn’t stop the anchor. “Since that interview with Mr. Pruitt, we have done some research into the life of the late Dorian Pruitt Cleese and have found that she was an exemplary teacher, winning many awards and the accolades of her peers. Here is Sue Benning, the principal of Ms. Cleese’s school.”

The report went on to interview the principal and two other teachers. Now Mac knew why Vanessa wanted to go back and explore life with her mother. She was a fascinating woman. He wondered what had happened that had kept them apart for over thirty years.

He bet Yardley Pruitt had something to do with it.

Cheryl tossed the lettuce salad. “I still don’t understand why you’re so upset about Toby. He’s really kind of pitiful. And people aren’t dumb. They’ll see he’s no love match for Lane.” She sprinkled the lettuce with Romano. “Actually, I can’t understand why she ever was interested in him—especially enough to go back to rekindle some teenage passion.” She forced a shiver. “Yuck. I think you and Wriggens are overreacting. Take a breath, Mac. Let it die on its own.”

Mac checked on the meat loaf. If only he could tell her what Lane was really doing in the past.

He felt her eyes on his back and turned toward her. “What?”

“There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

“No.” He turned back to the oven.

She slid between him and the appliance. “Uh-uh. Does not compute. Lucky for me you are a horrible liar. Fess up.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t.”

She traced his jawline and smiled her amazing smile. “Of course you can.”

“I can’t. I promised.”

She abandoned the seductive approach and thrust her hands onto her hips. “Promised who?”

He risked a glance. “Lane.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Oh, so it’s Lane now, is it? You two are on a first-name basis?”

“Cheryl…”

“We made a deal, Mac. No secrets. I’m too old to deal with secrets in a relationship; besides, it’s against my nature. My life’s an open book to you. And yours supposedly is to me.”

“And it is.” He’d told her more about his life with Holly than he’d ever told anyone. “But this is business.”

She removed her apron and drilled it into the counter. “You know what? I’m sick of secrets. You insist on keeping our relationship a secret and now you’re keeping a secret from me. It’s a pattern I can’t condone. It makes me weary and drives me crazy. I’m going home.” She strode to the entry, where her coat hung over the banister.

Mac hurried after her. “I would tell you if I could, but it’s imperative nobody knows—until Lane chooses to tell.”

“She’s not here!”

“Exactly. So I can’t speak of it without her permission.”

She shoved her arms in the coat and refused his attempts to help. “You don’t trust me.”

“I…” Actually, Cheryl did have a penchant for speaking first and thinking later.

“Fine. On this note of distrust, I hereby declare this evening over.” She yanked open the door.

“But—” Mac stopped when a group of reporters ran toward the door.

“Shut it!” he yelled.

She started to, but with a cock of her head, opened it wide and stepped out onto the stoop.

“Dr. Nickolby…” said one of the reporters. “What are you doing here?”

“Ask him.” She nodded toward Mac. “Ask my boyfriend.” She went to her car.

NINE

Let the wise listen and add to their learning,
and let the discerning get guidance.

Proverbs 1:5

Athens—1976

H
e’s doing it on purpose!

Vanessa tried not to stare at Bruce as he blatantly flirted with Amanda Jones in their Accounting Principles class. Tried not to even look at him. But it was impossible with him sitting one row over and two seats up. The seats weren’t assigned, so she knew he’d placed himself directly in her sight line to bug her and flaunt his status as a free man in spite of her pregnancy. In spite of all they’d shared.

And exactly what
did
we share?

She pretended to study her textbook and hoped the teacher would make his entrance soon. If she heard Amanda giggle one more time…

The thought returned:
What did you and Bruce share
—
besides sex?
They’d spent two months together. They’d met at a kegger right after they’d returned from Christmas break. He’d been drunk. She’d been drunk. And they’d ended up curled together on the stairs, lips locked, bodies wanting more. They hadn’t had sex that night. But when he’d called the next day, she’d gone out with him, knowing where it was heading. Two people didn’t backtrack easily from a lip-lock like the one they’d shared— though they had managed to hold off until the third date.

It wasn’t that Vanessa was promiscuous. She wasn’t. Not really. But as her college years progressed, and as she saw more and more of her girlfriends succumbing to the pleasures—or pressures—of sex, she’d decided to take the plunge herself. There had been only two before Bruce. And they hadn’t lasted long. Thank goodness.

She’d thought Bruce was different. Two months was respectable, a new world record. They’d even talked about a life together after graduation. Vanessa had mentioned marriage but Bruce had leaned toward living together. She’d been skeptical of what Daddy would have said to that one, but figured since she was twenty-one he couldn’t do much.
Except make my life miserable. Except cut off my allowance.

She shut her textbook with a slap, causing Bruce to look back at her. Money and guilt. It always came down to those two factors with Daddy. He held her captive with her need for money and his need for her. What was that line from a song in
Cabaret?
“Money makes the world go around…”

She found herself doodling. The word
Mother
curved around a heart. A heart? Symbolizing love? And her mother? She scratched out the picture. Yes, her mother had suddenly reappeared in her life. Yes, she seemed to genuinely care for her. But love?

What was love? Did her father love her?

She looked at Bruce. He winked at her and she looked away. Bruce certainly didn’t love her.

No one did.

The teacher came in. Time to think about facts and figures. That was fine with her. Those things were tangible. Measurable. They offered a right or wrong answer.

Unlike love.

Vanessa heard the phone ringing from the hall. She ran into her dorm room and caught it. “Hello?”

“You’re out of breath. Are you all right?” It was her mother.

She sat on the bed. “I was fine until I sprinted for the phone.”

“Sorry. Next time I’ll wait until you’re home.”

If nothing else, her mother could make her smile.

“Actually, you wouldn’t want to miss this call because I’m issuing an invitation. To my house. Tonight.”

But it’s Friday. I have to go home. Daddy’s expecting me.

“Don’t answer until I give you the whole scoop. I have good reasons that could trail up a chalkboard and down a wall. Just listen. Promise?”

Vanessa fell back onto her pillow. “I’m listening.”

“Number one, you and I have five years of bonding to make up for. Number two, I would like you to see my pad.”

“
Your
pad?”

“Hey, if
The Dating Game
can talk about bachelor and bachelorette pads, so can I. I’m single, you know.”

I know.

“On to reason number three. I make great fondue. Just got a new pot with all those little forkie-dealies.”

“Forkie-dealies?” Her mother’s vocabulary was making her a parrot.

“Reason number four is that I’m also inviting two lovely friends. I’d really like you to meet some of the people who populate my life.”

Whoopee. Gangs of fun. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes. We need a fourth for Pitch.”

“Aha. The real reason comes out.”

“I left it for last.”

Vanessa laughed. It was a foreign experience. That fact made her say, “Yes. I’ll be there.”

She’d go see Daddy tomorrow.

Dawson—1987

Lane didn’t want to go home for dinner. She didn’t want to face her parents, and especially not Grandma Nellie’s disappointment. She’d snuck out of the house before. If only she could sneak in.

Toby pulled up front. “You want me to go in with you?”

“Instead of me would be good,” she said.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of your grandma. She’s just a bitty thing.”

Lane snickered. “Bitty with a bark. You’ve heard her.”

He nodded. Anyone who spent much time at the Holloway house had heard Grandma go off on one thing or another. Not that she wasn’t usually right, but she did have a way of stopping the world and making it listen.

The front door opened and Grandma came outside. She stood on the stoop, her arms crossed.

“Uh-oh,” Toby said.

Lane took a deep breath and got out.

“I’ll wait.”

“You’d better not.” She shut the door and headed up the walk. Toby drove away.

“He’d
better
drive away,” Grandma said. “How dare he talk you out of fulfilling your God-given destiny.”

Lane tried to brush past her, but Grandma barred the door—all four-foot-ten of her. “I made the decision, Grandma. Not Toby.”

She pointed in the direction Toby had driven. “When are you going to see he’s not the man—and I use the term loosely— for you?”

Lane scuffed her toe on the stoop. “I love him. My future’s here. With him. This is my home.”

Grandma stepped aside. “Then go on in, Miss Dawson, USA. Go eat your lefse, lutefisk, and spritz cookies; marry your childhood sweetheart; and play the lead in the high-school plays with their cardboard sets and hand-me-down costumes. But don’t come crying to me when that dream of yours takes over your gut and makes you ache with maybes. You make many decisions like you did today and you’ll wind up without any maybes. Just could-a-beens.”

Grandma went in first, leaving Lane on the edge of the threshold. On this side sat the world, weaving its cords around her, teasing her, ready to pull her away into the unknown. The exciting unknown? On the other side was home and everything she knew. Inviting. Welcoming. Sure. Constant.

Her mother appeared. “There you are. Come in. Dinner’s ready.”

Lane stepped inside.