Single in Suburbia (11 page)

“We just finished the back nine, the course was packed today.” She could hear him put his hand over the mouthpiece for a moment and speak to someone else. She strained to hear whether there were female voices, but couldn’t make out anything over the general din. “I need to ask you a favor.”

A favor? Like being gone the whole morning without a single complaint from her wasn’t favor enough?

Hap didn’t wait for a response. He just expected her to comply, like she always did.

“I’d really like to grab a bite with the guys.” He covered the mouthpiece again, but she could hear him call out to someone that he’d be right there. Obviously it didn’t occur to him that she might object. “And I wondered if you could get Tyler to warm-ups. I’ll meet you all there in time for the game.”

“But…” Tyler hated her and let her know it at every opportunity. When Hap was around he turned the animosity down a notch. Being alone in a car with him was about as enjoyable as a root canal. “He’ll be so disappointed not to go with you. You’ve been gone all morning, Hap.” She said it gently, careful to keep the accusation out of her voice. No man liked to be nagged.

“I know, darlin’, and I’ll make it up to both of you. I’m just asking for this extra hour. I haven’t seen the guys in a month.”

There it was, the subtle reminder that he’d given up his old life for her.

“If you’d like to go out with your girlfriends tonight, Tyler and I can order a pizza and bach it.”

Her husband obviously hadn’t noticed she didn’t HAVE any girlfriends. The only women she’d shared more than polite chitchat with were Amanda and Candace. She swallowed back her hurt and irritation. “Of, course, Hap. You go on and have a nice time. We’ll see you at the field.”

Downing the last swallow of iced tea, she rezipped her cover-up. Inside she placed herself in front of the wide screen television, where Tyler could not ignore her. “Your dad asked me to run you to the field. He’ll be there in time for the game.”

Tyler grunted and then waited in impatient silence for her to get out of the way.

The roar of the baseball crowd boomed out of the surround sound speakers and followed her down the hall. She had to get undressed and step into the shower to drown them out.

Saturday afternoon Amanda donned her new rubber gloves and attacked the outdoor furniture with bleach and muscle, enjoying the feel of the sun on her bare shoulders as she scrubbed then sprayed away the residue of winter.

Hair riffled by the breeze, she put the earbuds in and strapped her iPod to her arm. With smooth French jazz swirling in her ears, she turned to the large wooden tub planters that she kept on the deck. After plucking the now limp mass of purple pansies, she added soil and conditioner, mixing them together in preparation for the summer annuals she intended to plant.

When her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, she removed one gardening glove and one earbud and braced the phone between her ear and shoulder.

“We’re losing again.” Candace was whispering, which meant she must be in the stands. “Is it normal to lose this many games?”

Amanda scooped the spent pansies off the ground and carried them to the garbage can. “We’ve been through a few rough patches in the past,” she said, “but this does feel unusually bad.” She walked back to the deck and leaned against the railing. “Who all’s there today?”

“The usual,” Candace said. “Susie Simmons is here going on about losing her cleaning woman and pouting about her son spending time on the bench. Meghan’s sitting by herself with her nose in a book.”

Amanda stared into the wooded backyard where a squirrel was busy stealing seed from a feeder. “You aren’t really going to make me ask are you?”

“Sorry,” Candace said. “Tiffany’s here. She arrived during the first inning and it seems that however uncomfortable the other mothers are with you, they’re ten times more uncomfortable with her. Of course that may have something to do with the fact that she’s wearing a backless halter and shorts so short I think we’re going to have to call them underwear.”

“Gosh I’m so sorry I’m missing that.”

“Yeah, well, Brooke and I miss you. It just isn’t the same with only two of us stooges. We thought we’d take you out to dinner tonight if you’re available.”

“Available?” Amanda laughed. “I’m not even going to pretend to check my calendar. But let’s eat here. I’ll make dinner if you’ll help me brainstorm afterward. I’ve got to figure out a way to make a living and it’s got to be something that doesn’t require start-up capital or experience.”

“All right,” Candace said. “But I’ll bring the wine. And if we’re talking no money and no experience, I think we may need more than one bottle.”

“The last time we drank together I tied over three hundred condoms to a tree. Let’s take it easy on the alcohol. I don’t want my new career to involve standing on street corners.”

After riffling through her cookbooks for inspiration, Amanda laced up a pair of Nikes and headed outside for a walk. Around her, Chandler’s Pond had sprung into full Saturday afternoon mode.

Across the street the garage door flew open and Myrna Hopewell buckled her three towheaded children—all under the age of five—into her Suburban and roared out of her driveway.

Two houses over, the Cotrell twins were setting up a lemonade stand. A gaggle of middle-school-aged boys milled around the base of Chad Hanson’s driveway taking an occasional shot at the nearby basketball hoop.

The well-manicured lawns served as backdrop to the bright bursts of pink and white azaleas and fat fingers of purple wisteria. Flats of Gerbera daisies and zinnias sat near the flower beds they’d soon call home. It looked like anyone who could was out in their yard breathing it all in.

At the end of her street, Amanda turned left and continued toward the entrance of the subdivision. The clubhouse parking lot overflowed with cars and on the adjacent tennis courts mixed-doubles teams warmed up, while those waiting to play socialized.

When they’d first moved to Atlanta, she and Rob had played on the neighborhood tennis team. She’d been adequate, nowhere near as good as Rob, but she could still remember the pure joy of moving on the court in tandem with her husband while her children played on the nearby playground.

Everything had felt fresh and full of promise then. They’d had Saturday tennis followed by a Saturday date night every week so that they could be alone with each other. She tried to remember when all that had begun to change, but there was no demarcation date, no specific day she could point to on which the kids’ activities had taken over the weekends and their time alone had somehow ceased to be.

Chatter and the lazy thwack of a tennis ball trailed after her as she passed the courts. Two streets ahead she rounded a corner and saw a sliver of the pond for which the neighborhood had been named. Two boys fished on the opposite bank and a family had spread out a blanket picnic next to the trunk of an ancient oak.

Amanda sank down onto a wooden bench shaded by the waxy green leaves of a massive magnolia. It was quiet and peaceful in her hidey-hole. Her thoughts skipped here and there, alighting briefly then moving on like the bee now buzzing around a nearby flower. The Rob she’d married versus the one she was divorcing; her life before and the one that stretched ahead of her.

Fear reared its ugly head and she mashed it back down. Everything about this day smacked of a new beginning; there was no room for fear in her new life.

Out on the pond a duck quacked. It was an angry, hostile sound that for some reason made her smile. “Oh, you,” she said. “What do you have to complain about?”

“Yeah, that’s a duck for you, never satisfied.”

The voice was masculine and nearby and horribly familiar. Amanda sat up straighter and stole a quick glance over her shoulder. A flush of embarrassment swept over her as she recognized the hunk who’d been behind her at the grocery store.

“So how’d things go the other night?” He looked even better in the daylight than he had in the checkout line. He was over six feet tall and blond, well built in a non-gym-induced way. Intelligent green eyes glinting with amusement considered her from the rugged face. A black Lab sniffed the bushes nearby.

Amanda blushed again. The front of her camisole felt damp and clingy from her walk, she wasn’t wearing an ounce of makeup, and he’d already introduced the topic of condoms. She prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, but it appeared this was just one more in a long line of prayers that was going to go unanswered.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We live over on Chandler Circle.” He named a street on the opposite side of the pond in the newer section of the subdivision. “This is Fido’s favorite spot.”

“You actually named your dog
Fido
?”

“Um-hmm.” He whistled and the dog’s ears perked up. “Here, Fido. Come here, boy.”

The dog crashed back through the brush, bounded toward the bench, and—just in case she wasn’t already embarrassed enough—poked its nose directly between Amanda’s thighs.

She gasped and shoved the dog’s head away.

“Sorry.” He reached for the dog’s collar and pulled him back. “He sits and heels and he’s got the first half of fetch down pretty well, but he’s definitely not a gentleman.”

Amanda smiled weakly and resisted the urge to look down to see just how wet the crotch of her shorts were.

“I’m Hunter James.” He stretched his hand toward her and she responded without thinking.

“Amanda Sheridan.”

Her hand disappeared in his and she felt the pleasant shock of warm skin and solid strength. His other hand remained clenched around the dog’s collar. The Lab’s tongue lolled out of its mouth and she wondered if after all these months of celibacy her crotch was sending out distress signals like those dog whistles that only canines could hear.

Hunter James didn’t rush to fill the silence that fell between them, but she could feel his thoughtful gaze on her face.

“It’s a nice spot,” he finally said. “Mind if I join you?”

Amanda did a surreptitious check to make sure the picnicking family was still within shouting distance. After all, Ted Bundy had been attractive and personable.

“Sure.” She slid over and he sat down beside her. Picking up a stick, he sent it sailing through the air. Fido raced after it.

Trying not to imagine what she must look like, or what he must think of her after the condom encounter, she stared out over the pond wishing for some of the boldness the margaritas had given her the other night.
Chaud et sexy,
the French words for hot and sexy shot through her mind. If she were a
French
soon-to-be-divorced woman, she’d seize this opportunity, not shrink from it. He was one of the most attractive men she’d ever met. And then, of course, there was that smile.

“It’s my favorite spot,” her Anglo self managed. “It’s a great place for figuring things out.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I can see that.” He settled onto the bench and stared out at the pond too. The silence surrounded them, interrupted only by the occasional quack of a duck and muffled bursts of conversation from the picnic. He was solidly there, but somehow managed not to invade her space.

Fido galloped back with the stick and shoved it toward Amanda. After a quick scratch behind Fido’s ear, she pulled the stick from the dog’s mouth and flung it as far as she could. The Lab raced after it.

“What kinds of things are you trying to figure out?” Hunter James asked.

The words “nothing major” almost made it to her lips, but she surprised them both with the truth. “Oh, you know, small things like what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. How I’m going to support my children after what feels like a lifetime as a stay-at-home mom.” She shrugged and looked up into his eyes. “Little things like that.”

Fido trotted back with the stick. Stretching out at his master’s feet, he began to gnaw on it.

Hunter placed a hand on the dog’s head and rubbed gently. “Sometimes we get broadsided by trouble when we’re least expecting it. But if there’s anything that can help you do what has to be done, it’s your children.” He sighed and withdrew his hand from Fido’s head, and for a moment Amanda wished he’d lay it on hers, not in a sexual way but as a gesture of comfort. “I’m sure it won’t be easy,” he said, the green eyes kind and sad at the same time. “But you strike me as exactly the kind of woman who’ll figure everything out just fine.”

“Thanks.” Hoping that he was right, Amanda dropped her gaze. A glance at her watch told her it was time to get going if she wanted to make it to the grocery store in time to get home and make dinner for Brooke and Candace.

She stood and dusted off the bottom of her shorts, oddly reluctant to leave. If she hadn’t known that there was probably a Mrs. James and a bunch of little Jameses waiting for him over on Chandler Circle, it would have taken an act of God to pry her from that bench.

“I have to admit I’ve been curious,” he said as she leaned over to give Fido a good-bye pat on the head. “Did you have enough?”

His eyes lit with the same amusement she’d noted during that first condom encounter. Here in the dappled sunlight they seemed even greener.

Her earlier embarrassment forgotten, she found herself smiling back. “Truthfully,” she said staring into them, “all the condoms in the world wouldn’t have been enough for what I was trying to accomplish that night.”

He laughed. A dimple creased his cheek. “I’ll have you know I’ve actually lost sleep trying to figure out what you did with that many. My imagination’s been running wild.”

She couldn’t stop her answering smile. Just sharing a bench with him had somehow lightened her mood. “Well, I’m afraid we’re going to have to chalk it up as one of the great mysteries of the universe.”

He laughed again, this time with appreciation.

“Because that’s one bit of information I intend to take to my grave.”

His laughter, which she really, really liked the sound of, followed her as she said good-bye and turned and left the park.

The day seemed brighter as she hurried by the tennis courts and made her way home.