Sutherland’s Pride (17 page)

Flynn gave her a proud smile. “I think so.”

“It’s nice to see a young married couple still in love these days,” the man said. “Young people nowadays don’t know the meaning of commitment. In my day, you didn’t have children unless you intended to stay together to raise them.”

Flynn agreed in a serious manner.

“Don’t let that precious little boy grow up without two parents,” the woman warned.

The old couple walked on, and Flynn turned to Pride.

“He won’t grow up without two parents who love him,” Pride said before he could speak.

He touched her cheek and stroked her tawny hair back from her face. “The way I figure it, I still love you, and I want you to love me. We need to spend time together, the way we did when we first met, so you can get to know me again. What do you say?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”

“I’d like to make it official,” Flynn said.

Pride nodded with equal gravity. “In that case, you may ask me out tonight. I’ll think it over and see if what you suggest sounds good to me.”

“Pride.”

“Yes, Flynn?”

“You don’t get to think it over. You have to say yes.”

“That takes all the fun out of it.” She grinned at him. “It’s obvious you’ve been reading Tracy Eric. When did you guess that I was Tracy?”

“I have a super-efficient secretary who’s Tracy’s Number One fan. She recognized Gloria’s picture. Said the kids’ names put her on to it.”

Pride began to laugh. “Gloria and I thought that picture looked nothing like her, and for obvious reasons, I didn’t want to do the column under my own name or photo. Please don’t send out any more roses. We’ve used up every vase and drinking glass in the house, not to mention a few pots and pans.”

Flynn chuckled with her. “If you want to be showered with roses and diamonds, then I have to admit, you deserve them.”

“A year-and-three-quarters ago, when I wrote that column, I’d have agreed with you,” she said in dry tones. “Now that Johnny is a well-adjusted two-year-old who sleeps through the night, I’m a little more reasonable.”

“Good.” Flynn smoothed Johnny’s hair. “Does that mean I can get away with begging you to take me back while sitting on this bench rather than kneeling on the ground?”

• • •

Pride arrived home with Johnny and discovered the Boudreaux family packing up to return to Lake Charles. She had known Gloria would be returning home today, because Eddie was due in early the following morning.

“Maybe we can stay on another day,” Gloria suggested, studying Pride.

“I wouldn’t let you. A man has a right to the peace and comfort of his own family when he’s been two weeks on an off-shore rig.”

Gloria, her arms full of paper sacks containing children’s clothing, plopped down on the white sofa beside Pride, who had taken a moment out to tie Johnny’s shoe laces.

“What are you going to do about Flynn?” she asked. “How do you feel about him, now that you’ve had time to be with him again? And I don’t mean that fatherhood stuff you write about as Tracy Eric.”

Pride shoved back a lock of her tawny hair and kept her gaze on Johnny’s shoes. “I … still have feelings for him.”

“Are we talking man–woman type feelings here, or are we talking the same kind of romantic trivia you wrote about in your last column?”

Pride gulped. She wrote that column before she realized Flynn knew about Tracy Eric, and Flynn had been thrilled with it when it appeared. It had taken careful note of the leap of Tracy’s heart upon beholding her former lover once more.

Gloria, however, looked at things more seriously.

“I didn’t know you thought romantic feelings were trivia,” Pride said, grinning. “This, from one of the two people who makes Vesuvius look like a worn-out toaster?”

“Get real. Of course Eddie and I are all-out romantics. What I’m talking about here is grown-up stuff, like forbearance and forgiveness. Without them, no marriage can survive for long.”

Pride kept her attention on Johnny as she set his feet on the floor. He scampered toward the kitchen, where the other children were eating breakfast.

“You’ll have to forgive Flynn for the way he hurt you three years ago,” Gloria pointed out, “and overlook the fact that he wasn’t there for you when Johnny was born.”

Pride mulled it over. “I’ll have to explore the matter in an upcoming column.”

“You’re hopeless.” Gloria sprang up. “If you want to know what I think, Pride Donovan, it’s that you write that column to avoid the feelings you want to avoid. No one, including you, wants to hear about forgiveness.”

Pride nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“While you’re at it, you can forgive your father.”

“I already have.”

“Not in your heart. You think you’ve got it all neatly pigeon-holed in your brain, but you haven’t forgiven him any more than you’ve forgiven Flynn. Before you can trust yourself to Flynn or any other man, you’re going to have to sort all those things out and realize you are not your mother.”

“I’ll start on a column tonight,” Pride promised.

“I’ll never understand writers.” Gloria picked up the sacks to carry out to her SUV. “But I do know one thing. The reason your column is so popular is because all the other single moms out there are full of the same feelings of betrayal and hurt as you are.”

“The column is popular for a reason,” Pride agreed.

Gloria leaned forward. “Until you overcome your past, you’ll never be happy. Just like lots of those other single mothers will never be happy. It’s too much fun to hold onto all the hurt and bitterness.”

Pride chuckled. “What we need here is a marriage guidance column by the most happily married woman in Louisiana and most of Texas, Mrs. Gloria Boudreaux.”

“Only I’ll call myself Sylvia John,” Gloria returned, and headed toward the front door. “Think about it, Pride. If you want to know my opinion, it’s that you’re holding on to your anger at Flynn in order to cover up your own guilt over not telling him two years ago about Johnny.”

Pride frowned. “I told Flynn I was pregnant three years ago. And told him and told him. Why should I feel guilty?”

“Because you’re letting your father’s actions poison your future,” Gloria replied. “Can’t you see that the poor man made himself three times as miserable as he ever made you?”

Pride watched Gloria shove open the door with her armload of sacks. She got to her feet and went to the bedroom to gather up another armload of Gloria’s sacks. She knew her father had been a miserably unhappy man. Maybe Gloria was right about him.

But Gloria was all wrong about her motives. She was merely being cautious, and who could blame her?

“I don’t feel guilty in the least,” she said. “It wasn’t my fault Flynn chose not to believe me.”

“You’ve convicted Flynn of being just like your father, and all because he really believed he couldn’t have children.” Gloria set the sacks in the rear of her SUV and regarded Pride. “One thing is obvious. Flynn wants you, and he wants Johnny. You’re going to have to make a decision.” She grinned suddenly. “Maybe with me and the kids out of the house, you’ll have enough peace and quiet to do a little straight thinking for once.”

With Gloria and her three children gone, Pride had so much opportunity to think, it almost drove her crazy. She wrote the beginning of a column that skimmed the surface of her feelings. The activity left her regarding the deeper emotions with trepidation. She wound up shoving all her doubts into the back of her mind to be dealt with later, probably in an upcoming Tracy Eric column. Tracy Eric, unlike Pride Donovan, never acted until she had digested and reformulated all the facts.

A day later, after spending the afternoon with Flynn and Johnny at a Houston Astros baseball game, Pride suddenly realized that Flynn treated her the way he once had, with the tender, teasing affection that once turned her bones to water.

That thought led to a consideration of whether or not he still harbored anger at her for not telling him about Johnny. If he did, she detected absolutely no sign of it.

She stirred chili in a saucepan over the stove in Flynn’s apartment and tried not to look conscious of his steady regard.

“You enjoy cooking, don’t you?” Flynn asked.

Tracy Eric had done a column or two on childhood nutrition. Flynn had made no secret of the fact that he’d read and studied every single one of Tracy Eric’s columns.

“It’s a lot of fun, if you approach it right,” she said. “Cooking in a bachelor’s kitchen is definitely a challenge.”

“Come on, Pride. I stocked this kitchen with you and Johnny in mind. What I meant was, you really enjoy making a home for Johnny.”

Pride smiled at him. “I suppose I do. I’ve been very lucky. Being a writer has enabled me to be at home with him a lot more than a nine-to-five job would have.”

“And it let you experience being a single working mother enough to write the Tracy Eric column,” he agreed. “Where do writers get their ideas, I wonder? Am I going to read about my efforts at parenting in an upcoming column?”

Pride shook her head and laughed. “Although, now that you mention it, Tracy Eric could do a lot with your approach to fatherhood.”

Flynn brightened. “She could? Do you think she approves of my approach?”

“Of course she does.” She couldn’t resist the hopeful expression on his face. Anyone would approve of the way Flynn had overcome his shock and had done his best to be a father to Johnny. “Tracy Eric thinks Johnny is a lucky little boy.”

“Me,” Johnny yelled from his comfortable position on Flynn’s lap.

“Yes, that’s you, young man. And while we’re on the subject of lucky, you and I need to have a little talk about how you’re supposed to behave when you’re visiting Daddy’s house.”

Johnny flung his arms around Flynn’s neck and clung. “Daddy’s house.”

“That’s right.” Pride tapped her spoon on the pan for emphasis. “When you’re visiting Daddy’s house, you don’t run through the living room with a glass of milk in your hand. You don’t run, period.” She regarded her son. “You don’t want Daddy changing his mind about his luck in having you, do you?”

“Now, Pride, what’s a glass of milk on the carpet?” Flynn asked, grinning.

“There’s a principle involved here, and it has nothing to do with the work involved in cleaning the carpet.”

“Even when you did the all work?” Flynn asked in meek tones.

“Careful, Flynn, or I’ll have a little talk with you in addition to the one I’m about to have with Johnny.”

“Uh-oh. Daddy needs to child-proof his apartment,” Flynn said, cuddling Johnny.

“True,” Pride said. “Just like you had to child-proof your wrist.”

Flynn glanced at the plain, Timex watch he’d bought to tide him over Johnny’s fascination with mariner’s watches and laughed. Johnny had accorded the watch serious study but abandoned it in favor of something more colorful.

“The truth is, I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about child-proofing,” Flynn admitted. “Maybe you could help me out.”

“Tonight,” she promised.

Since Johnny had already done some damage to Flynn’s apartment, and Pride had spotted several other hazardous items Johnny would surely investigate, she figured she’d better help Flynn immediately after supper.

She served bowls of chili and a green salad, and both males appeared well-satisfied. In fact, the satisfaction on Flynn’s face served to make her blush.

“Johnny has had a busy day,” Flynn observed when the little boy began nodding off after the meal.

“I’m not surprised. Let’s put him down on the sofa, and I’ll show you the basics of child-proofing.”

“Better put a pillow alongside him.” Flynn lifted the sleepy child and laid him gently on the sofa. “We don’t want him rolling off.”

She followed him to his bedroom, glancing in a guarded way around Flynn’s bedroom while he took a pillow from the bed. The bedroom was the only room in the small apartment that had character, chiefly because Flynn had set framed photographs on every available surface.

Pride jerked her gaze away from the bedside table. It wouldn’t do to let Flynn know she searched the photographs for evidence of other women in his life.

“Those are of you.” He pointed to a group of small frames.

The smile on his face set the seal to her irritation and she flushed. “Really? Why on earth would you keep photos of me in the middle of this harem?”

“The rest are of my parents and my relatives.” Flynn kissed Johnny’s forehead. “Take a look.”

Pride ignored the invitation. “I’ll have to send you some of Johnny. I have a beautiful picture of him in bed with his teddy.”

“Kiss our son goodnight,” Flynn ordered. “I want to talk to you.”

What on earth had she said? Pride tucked the pillow alongside the little boy then backed off as Flynn turned off all the lights in the room except one small lamp on the opposite side of the room.

“In here.” He looked grim as he held the door open for her to precede him into the bedroom.

Too late, she realized being in a bedroom alone with Flynn was a bad idea.

“All right, Pride,” he said. “I just want to know one thing. Have you included me, along with your father, on your list of unforgivable people?”

Her hand jerked in his, and she tried to withdraw it. “Heavens, Flynn, what a question. I don’t have a list of unforgivable people, and if I did, neither you nor my father, would be on it.”

“Is that so?” Flynn pulled her down to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “You could have fooled me. That disinterested act of yours always makes me wonder if you even know my name.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. You were looking almost human a little earlier, until I told you to have a look around.”

Pride lowered her gaze to keep him from seeing that her eyes had filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Flynn. Of course I forgive you.” She forced a smile. “If you’re interested, I forgave you the day you rescued Johnny from the water.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his for a brief instant. He regarded her sternly, and straightened to hold her in place by clasping her shoulders.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know.” She looked away. “I learned years ago how to look as if I didn’t care about things my father would say when he tried to hurt me or my mother.”