Crossroads (10 page)

“You may not be so eager once Uncle Ray puts you to work,” Mitch teased. “He can be a hard task-master. I have a feeling he has a list of chores for us a mile long.”

“That's okay. I don't mind.”

“Is this the same person who complains about taking out the trash?” Tess kidded her son.

“That's different, Mom. This will be fun.” He turned to Mitch. “Do you want me to load my stuff in the car?”

“Sure. I need to talk to your mother for a minute, anyway.”

He'd given her the perfect opportunity to issue the dinner invitation, Tess realized as Bruce headed out the front door. She took a deep breath and tried to quiet the thumping of her heart as Mitch walked closer. He stopped a couple of feet away, frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Are you really sure you'll be okay alone for a few days?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.” Her voice sounded a bit breathless, and she struggled for a more normal tone. “Besides, you guys will only be an hour away if I really need anything.”

“You'll call if you do?”

“Of course.”

He paused, as if trying to decide whether he believed her or not, then let it drop. “Okay. We'll check in every day. And I'll be back Thursday. I need to put in a couple days of work, even if it is spring break. I plan to head back down early on Saturday, so I'll pick you up about eight, if that's okay.”

“Fine.” It was now or never, she realized, forcing herself to take a deep, steadying breath. “Mitch, I— I can't thank you enough for all you've done for Bruce and me over the past couple of weeks. I know how busy you are, and I'm sorry we added to the demands on your time. But I honestly don't know how we'd have managed without you.”

An odd light flickered in his eyes, so briefly that Tess wondered if she'd imagined it. “I was glad to help.”

She was struck by the husky quality in his voice, but too distracted by what she was about to say to analyze it. “The thing is, I know I can never repay
you for your kindness. But I'd like to at least say ‘thank you' in some sort of concrete way. So I thought…that is, if you can spare a couple of hours…I'd like to treat you to dinner Friday night.”

For a moment Mitch seemed taken aback by the invitation. “You don't have to do that, Tess.”

“I know I don't. But I'd like to. You've been a good friend to us, Mitch, and I want you to know that we value that friendship.”

Their gazes locked, but his eyes were shuttered, giving Tess no clue what was going through his mind. She tried desperately to follow his lead and keep her eyes from reflecting the feelings in her heart. But she had no idea if she succeeded.

He looked at her for a long moment, clearly engaged in a silent debate, while she held her breath. Part of her hoped he would accept. Part of her hoped he would decline. Logically speaking, the latter was certainly preferable. Why prolong one-on-one contact when the attraction was one-sided? That was only an exercise in frustration. But good manners had compelled her to issue the invitation, so she'd done her duty. Now the ball was in his court.

“Is it okay if I take some painting stuff to the farm? Just in case I have time?”

There was a momentary pause before Mitch broke eye contact with her to look at Bruce, who was already clutching his easel in his hands. “Sure. I don't think Uncle Ray expects you to work every minute.”

“Great! Thanks!”

“I'll be right with you.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Before she could respond, Bruce disappeared out
the door. She turned back to Mitch and forced her stiff lips into a smile. “I hope Uncle Ray doesn't regret this. Bruce could tire him out by the end of the week. He's got an unbelievably high energy level when he's interested in something.”

“I'm not worried. Those two seem to understand each other. I think they'll set their own limits.”

“Well, just give me a call if I need to talk to Bruce.”

“I will.” He paused, and the expression in his eyes shifted again.
Troubled
was the word that came to Tess's mind. “I appreciate the offer of dinner, Tess,” he said slowly. “It's just that I don't want you to feel under any obligation. It was an emergency, and I was glad to help. You'd have done the same thing if the situation was reversed.”

“That doesn't mean I appreciate it any less,” she countered, then tried for a joking tone. “Besides, Caroline told me about a great restaurant, and this would give me an excuse to try it.”

When she mentioned the name, his eyebrows rose. “It is a great restaurant. Also very pricey.”

Did he think she couldn't afford dinner for two at a nice restaurant, she wondered? She sat up a little straighter, and her chin tilted up ever so slightly as her pride kicked in. “I can afford an occasional splurge, Mitch. Especially for a special occasion. Like thanking a friend for a very generous favor.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I didn't mean to imply you couldn't afford it, Tess.” He paused and took a deep breath. “How about this? I'll check with you Thursday, and if you're feeling up to it, it's a date.”

Hardly, she thought. But at least she had her answer. “That's fine.” She hadn't meant to sound put out, but she couldn't prevent a slight touch of coolness from creeping into her voice.

Mitch raked his fingers through his hair, his expression contrite. “Look, Tess, I didn't mean to sound ungracious. I really do appreciate the invitation.”

“It's okay.”

“No, it's not. And I'm sorry.”

It suddenly occurred to Tess that not once during her ten-year marriage to Peter had her husband ever apologized for anything. He seemed to feel that acknowledging a mistake somehow diminished him. But Tess viewed it in exactly the opposite way. To her, the ability to admit mistakes, to say “I'm sorry,” increased a person's stature. Her expression softened and she smiled. “Accepted.”

“I'll call you, then?”

“That would be fine. And Mitch…keep an eye on Bruce, okay?”

“Count on it. He'll be in good hands.”

Of that she had no doubt.

 

“I'd say that was one tuckered-out youngster. I'd be willing to bet he was out cold the minute his head hit the pillow.”

Mitch chuckled as he joined Uncle Ray on the porch swing, savoring a long, slow sip of coffee as they enjoyed the unseasonably warm spring evening. “I warned him you were a slave driver.”

Uncle Ray smiled. “You should have seen me in my heyday.”

Mitch gave an exaggerated groan. “I don't think my back would have survived.”

Now it was Uncle Ray's turn to chuckle. “Hard work is good for the soul. And the body.”

“You may have a hard time convincing Bruce of that tomorrow when he can barely move.”

“That boy is a hard worker, I'll say that for him. Willing to tackle anything. And he put in a full day. Nice young man, too. Not too many boys his age would give up a Saturday, let alone a whole spring break, to work on a farm with an old man.”

“He likes you.”

Uncle Ray looked pleased. “I like him, too.”

“I wish he felt the same about me.”

“Maybe he does.”

Mitch shook his head. “No way. I'm the authority figure who's been cramping his style.”

“You're also the friend who helped him out when his mom was sick and who introduced him to Joe Davis. He mentions him every time he e-mails me. That was a brilliant move on your part.”

Mitch shrugged. “I was lucky I knew someone who could tap into Bruce's talent. And I was lucky Joe was willing to cooperate.”

“I take it that the episode at the Y wasn't a chance meeting.”

Mitch hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

“Didn't think so. I could see your hand in it. It was a nice thing to do, son.”

“I was just glad I finally hit on something that seemed to reach him. He was definitely heading for trouble, and Tess was at her wit's end.”

“Mmm. Hard thing, raising a boy that age alone. I don't envy her.”

“Single parenthood is never easy,” Mitch concurred. “But from what she's told me, they're better off without Bruce's father. I have a feeling he did more harm than good—to both of them.”

Uncle Ray shook his head. “Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Bruce is a great kid. And even though I don't know Tess all that well, she sure seems like a nice person. Conscientious and genuine and caring.”

“She is.”

“Can't imagine why any man would let someone like her slip away.”

“Me, neither.”

Silence fell as the two men swung gently, a comfortable stillness born of secrets shared, absolute trust and mutual respect. Several minutes passed before Uncle Ray spoke.

“I've got some news for you, son.”

Something in the older man's voice put Mitch on alert, momentarily driving thoughts of Tess out of his mind. “What is it?”

“I've sold the farm.”

With an instinct honed long ago Mitch had braced himself for bad news. But his uncle's calm announcement stunned him. “What?”

“I've sold the farm,” Uncle Ray repeated. “At least, most of it. I kept the five acres around the house and barn.”

“But why?” Mitch couldn't even conceive of his uncle without the farm, or vice versa.

“Because it was time, son.” The older man's voice was quiet but firm.

“But…but this is your life.”

“It
was
my life,” Uncle Ray corrected him. “And it was a good one. But also a hard one. I'm getting older, Mitch. I can't keep up with things anymore.”

“But I'm more than happy to help.”

“I know that. But I can't expect you to spend what little free time you have out here. You need to live your own life, not help me keep memories of my old one alive. The Lord and I had a long talk about this, and I know it's the right thing to do.”

Mitch felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. “You mean you did this for me?”

“Partly. But only partly,” he clarified. “Mostly I did it for me. And that's the truth, Mitch. The fact is, time brings changes. People change. Circumstances change. And sometimes you just have to realize that it's time to move on.”

Time to move on.
The words echoed in Mitch's heart, and he stared down into his coffee.

“It's not an easy thing, letting go, is it, son?” His uncle's voice was gentle, and Mitch suddenly knew they weren't talking about the farm anymore. He turned, and though the light was dim, the kindness and understanding in the older man's eyes were clear.

“Not everyone has your courage, Uncle Ray,” he replied quietly.

“You do.”

Mitch shook his head. “I'm not so sure.”

“I am. And I'm sure about something else, too. You shouldn't spend the rest of your life alone. And lonely.”

For once Mitch didn't deny his loneliness. He'd dealt with it successfully for years, but lately the emp
tiness of his personal life had become oppressive, leaving him keenly aware of the hollow echo in his heart.

Mitch rose and walked restlessly to the edge of the porch, planting his hands on the railing as he stared out into the darkness. “So what are you saying, Uncle Ray?”

“You know.”

Yeah, he knew. Mitch drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I said I'd never get involved with anyone again.”

“That was years ago, son. And Tess seems like a real special woman. The kind that doesn't come around very often.”

He knew that, too. “She asked me to dinner.”

There was a moment of silence. “Are you going?”

“I don't know.”

“Why not?”

Mitch drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. As usual, his uncle had honed right to the heart of the matter. “Because I'm afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Messing things up. Making the same mistakes. Hurting the people I love. Just like before.”

“That was a long time ago, son.”

“I'm the same man.”

“Are you?”

Mitch thought about that. Was he? Hadn't he learned a great deal—about selflessness and sensitivity and listening—during the intervening years? Hadn't he learned to recognize what was precious and cherish it? Or was he just kidding himself that he'd grown and changed and become a better person?

“I don't know,” he said at last with a sigh.

“Well, I do. And the answer is no. You're not the same person you were six years ago. No one is. That's why I'm selling the farm. Because it's time to move on. Maybe it's time for you to do the same.”

Mitch didn't respond. But in his heart he acknowledged the truth of Uncle Ray's words. Though he'd always vowed never again to get involved with anyone, Tess had made him rethink that pledge. Because Uncle Ray was also right about her. She was special. Very special.

Mitch knew all that. Knew that he needed to revisit the decision he'd made six years ago, when his life was an emotional hell. Knew that if he didn't pursue his interest in Tess, he could very well lose the chance to build a new life. Knew, also, that he might very well let this opportunity pass him by, even if it meant spending the rest of his life alone.

Because the bottom line was, he was just plain scared.

T
ess checked her watch and frowned. Mitch was fifteen minutes late. It seemed highly unlikely that he'd forgotten their dinner date, considering that he'd called to confirm the time yesterday. He'd even offered to pick her up, but she'd figured it was safer simply to meet him at the restaurant. Since he wasn't the type to stand someone up, something must have detained him at the office.

Tess looked around the lounge of the upscale restaurant, where the maître d' had suggested she wait, and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt out of her element amid the cozy twosomes and intimate laughter coming from the small, candlelit tables. A more casual place would have been far more appropriate for a thank-you dinner than this romantic dining establishment, with its dim light, elegant rose-colored decor and mellow background music, she realized. Had Caroline purposely set her up? Her boss had hinted more than once that Tess should consider the
handsome principal in more than a professional light, but Tess had always sidestepped the suggestion. Maybe this was Caroline's not-so-subtle way of giving her a little push in what she considered the right direction, Tess mused wryly.

She just hoped Mitch didn't interpret it that way. His voice had still sounded a bit cautious on the phone when he'd called to confirm their dinner, and she'd been tempted once again to offer him an out. But something had held her back. So here she was, meeting a friend to repay a debt in what was clearly a place designed to foster romance.

Tess glanced yet again at her watch. Mitch was now twenty minutes late. They'd agreed on an early dinner, since she still tired easily, and he'd said he would come straight from his office. It was time to call, she decided.

Tess reached for her purse and stood. But she'd walked no more than two steps toward the foyer when she suddenly froze. Though she hadn't seen him in years, and his once-ebony hair now contained glints of silver, there was no question about the identity of the man who stood on the threshold of the lounge, coolly surveying the occupants.

It was Peter, her ex-husband.

 

“I'm glad you stopped by, Tony.” Mitch laid his hand on the boy's shoulder as they walked toward the office reception area.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“My door's always open, you know.”

“Yeah. But it's easier to stop by when school's out.”

“The guys give you a hard time about talking to me, I take it.”

The fourteen-year-old shrugged. “You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” He paused on the threshold and looked at Tony. “Hang in there, okay? I know things aren't great at home, but there are a lot of people who care about you. Including me. Don't forget that. And I'm here if you need me, anytime, day or night. You've got my home number, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you stop in and see me again next week?”

“I'll try.”

“We can meet somewhere away from here if that's easier, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Jackson.”

“You bet. Just remember that I'm here for you.”

“I will. See ya.”

Mitch watched the teenager cross the small reception room, then glanced toward Karen's desk, a troubled expression on his face. “I worry about him.”

“You worry about all of them,” she countered as she pushed her keyboard under the desk.

“Some more than others.”

“Are things still bad at home?”

“Yeah.”

She raised one eyebrow knowingly. “I'm not surprised. I heard his mother just got a big promotion. She'll probably be around even less now. Which means his dad will drink more than ever.”

Mitch looked at her and shook his head incredulously. “How do you know so much about everything?”

“Certainly no thanks to you,” she retorted. “You never tell me anything.”

“If I want the kids to trust me, I have to keep their confidences.”

She grinned. “I know. I'm just giving you a hard time. I know something else, too.”

“What?”

“You're late for your six-o'clock appointment.”

Mitch glanced at his watch, muttered something under his breath, then turned and strode toward his desk. He stuffed a handful of papers into his briefcase, sparing only a brief glance for Karen, who had followed in a more leisurely fashion. She surveyed him from the doorway, one shoulder propped against the door frame, arms folded over her chest.

Mitch looked at her again as he snapped his briefcase shut, noting her amused expression. “What?” he asked.

“Considering it's Friday night, and considering that classy suit and tie you're wearing, I have a feeling that
appointment
may be too businesslike a term for whatever you have planned for tonight.”

He flashed her a grin as he shrugged into a gray pinstripe jacket. “Fishing?”

“Maybe.”

“They're not biting tonight.”

“Maybe not here. But this isn't the only fishing hole in town.”

Mitch chuckled. “I told you before, Karen. You missed your calling. Are you sure you don't want me to put you in touch with my FBI contacts? They could use more good agents.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. So are you going to fess up,
or do I have to keep fishing?” When Mitch silently picked up his briefcase and headed for the door, Karen sighed and stepped aside. “Okay, have it your way. But the truth will come out.”

As he passed his secretary, Mitch winked. “Good luck.”

She grinned. “You, too. And by the way—it's about time.”

 

Please, God, don't let him see me!
Tess prayed silently but fervently. Peter was the last person she wanted to see, especially tonight. Not when she was already nervous about her dinner plans with Mitch. Not when she was so unprepared for a verbal sparring match with her ex-husband. Not when she needed every ounce of the confidence she had so painstakingly rebuilt after Peter's masterful job of destroying it. Just being in his presence made her feel insecure and shaky.

She glanced around desperately, hoping there was an alcove, a ladies' room, anything that would offer her an escape so she could mentally regroup.

“Tess?”

Too late. With dread she turned slowly to face the man who had once been her husband. He strolled over, and his gaze blatantly raked over her—cold, assessing, critical. He hadn't changed a bit, she thought bitterly. “It
is
you. I wasn't sure. You look more gaunt than I remember.”

Not “How are you?” or “Nice to see you.” Just a derogatory comment. She should have been used to it by now. Should have developed a skin tough
enough to deflect his barbs. Yet they still had the power to sting. And intimidate.

“Hello, Peter.” She tried for a cool, aloof tone, but couldn't quite pull it off. “What are you doing here?”

He knew exactly what she meant, but chose to play games, as he always had. “Meeting a couple of colleagues for a drink.”

“I mean in St. Louis.”

“Why didn't you say so? I'm in town for a convention. Just for a couple of days. I'm leaving tomorrow.”

It suddenly occurred to Tess that Peter hadn't even let his son know he would be in town. Had made no attempt to see or even call him while he was here. A deep, seething anger swept over her, and this time the coolness in her tone was real.

“I'm surprised you didn't call.”

He gave her a smirk. “Don't tell me you've been missing me.”

“Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't thinking of me.”

For a moment his face went blank, and then, for one brief moment, he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. How is the kid?”

Her knuckles whitened on her purse. “His name is Bruce,” she said tersely. “Or have you forgotten that, too?”

“Same smart mouth, I see,” he sneered. “You always were a master at dishing out guilt.” He glanced pointedly at the bare fingers of her left hand. “I'm not surprised you never remarried. No man wants to have someone constantly lecturing to him. Believe me, there are plenty of women out there a lot better
looking than you who know how to make a man feel good about himself.”

Tess's temples began to throb, and her legs suddenly felt shaky. The memories of her unhappy, bitter years with this man who was now little more than a stranger came rushing back, leaving a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Dear God, how had she managed to put up with his vitriolic verbal abuse for ten long years?

Tess had never been very good at hiding her feelings, and she knew from the smirk on Peter's face that he'd correctly deduced that his barbs had hit home. “So what are you doing in a classy place like this, anyway? Reporters must be getting paid more than they used to.”

“Tess! Sorry I'm late. I got held up at the office.”

Tess felt the comfort of a protective arm around her shoulders, and she turned, her throat tightening with emotion. He might not be wearing a suit of shining armor, but as far as she was concerned Mitch was every bit the knight rescuing the damsel in distress.

Mitch looked down into her eyes, and his gut clenched. He had hesitated on the sidelines when he'd discovered Tess talking with Peter, thinking that perhaps she'd run into an old friend. But her tense body posture quickly put that theory to rest. The man was no friend. Mitch had moved closer, and though he'd picked up only part of the conversation, it had been enough for him to identify the man—and for a white-hot anger to erupt inside him. Tess had implied that her ex-husband was insensitive and uncaring. But what Mitch had witnessed went beyond that. The man was arrogant. Conceited. Self-centered. And abusive.
He had hurt Tess before. Deeply. Now he was doing it again. And Mitch had no intention of letting him get away with it. Without even stopping to consider his actions, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. He didn't wait to assess her reaction, but instead smoothly transferred his gaze to Peter.

As Mitch had anticipated, the gesture wasn't lost on Tess's ex-husband. The other man's eyes narrowed appraisingly, and there was a glimmer of admiration in them when he spoke again to Tess. As if Mitch's interest in Tess somehow made her more worthy of his respect, Mitch thought with disgust.

“Are you going to introduce your…friend?” Peter prompted.

Tess was still trying to recover from Mitch's unexpected kiss and the brief but breathtaking sensation of his lips on hers that had, for just a second, made her completely forget that Peter was standing only inches away. She turned back to her ex-husband, taking comfort in the shelter of Mitch's arm, and quickly made the introductions.

When Peter extended his hand, Mitch hesitated. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. As soon as the brief handshake was completed, however, he reached over and entwined his fingers with hers, noting the coldness of her hand and the tremors that ran through it.

“Nice to meet you, Mitch. Can I buy you both a drink?”

Tess looked at Peter in disgust. He hadn't changed one bit. Jovial and considerate in public, an ogre in private. Would Mitch be fooled, as so many others had been? she wondered.

“Sorry, we're already late for our dinner reservations.”

“Another time, maybe.”

Mitch ignored that comment and turned to Tess. The smile he gave her was warm and intimate. “You look fabulous tonight. New dress?”

She looked at him in surprise. Actually, it was. She hadn't intended to buy anything new for tonight. But she'd seen a dress in the window of a small shop and hadn't been able to resist. The simple, elegant lines of the black cocktail dress were suited to her slender curves, and the moment she'd slipped it over her head she'd felt young and attractive and more woman than mom. It had been a foolish extravagance, of course, but it had done wonders for her self-esteem. Until Peter's opening comment about her gauntness, which had quickly deflated her ego. But Mitch's appreciative gaze helped restore her shaky self-confidence, even if it was only a gallant act for Peter's benefit.

“Yes.”

He gave her a lazy smile, then reached up and gently brushed a wayward strand of hair back from her face. “I like it.”

“So, you two seem like old friends.”

Mitch frowned, as if he'd completely forgotten the other man was there and was annoyed at being interrupted. He spared him only a quick glance, and once again ignored his remark as he turned back to Tess. “Ready for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“I think our table is ready.”

His hand still linked with hers, he deliberately turned away from Peter and led the way toward the
dining room. Tess followed his lead, turning for a brief parting look at Peter. Her ex's face was slightly ruddy, and his eyes glinted with anger. The picture of a man clearly not accustomed to having his charm rebuffed. As Tess turned away, she couldn't help but feel vindicated. Mitch hadn't been fooled. He had seen right through Peter and had very clearly put him in his place.

As they took their seats at the linen-covered table, the waiter smiled in greeting. “Can I get either of you something from the bar while you look over the menu?”

Mitch glanced at Tess questioningly.

“Just water, please,” she said.

“How about some wine?” Mitch suggested.

Tess didn't drink much. But if ever there was a night for it, this was it. “That would be nice.”

“I'll bring a wine menu, sir,” the waiter offered.

When he left, Tess drew a shaky breath and gave Mitch an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. I had no idea he was even in town.”

“So I gathered. And I'm the one who's sorry. I heard enough to get a very clear picture of your ex's character. I'm sorry he upset you.”

Tess tried for a smile, but barely pulled it off. “It was that obvious, huh?”

“To me.”