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“He’s our grandfather!” Stephen challenged.
“I know, but—”
“This is something your mom has to deal with in her own way,” J.D. interjected, and Tiffany felt as torn as she had when she’d first learned of John Cawthorne’s wedding.
“Maybe later we can all get to know each other,” she said, realizing that her son was somewhat isolated down here. He’d left friends in Portland when they’d moved. The few he’d made here were trouble. She took a long swallow of her coffee and thought about the cousins that he had. Her half sister Katie had a boy, Josh, a few years younger than Stephen, and Bliss was going to marry Mason Lafferty, who had a daughter, Dee Dee, from his first marriage. Surely there would be a baby on the horizon. And Katie had three brothers, none of whom were married, but who might link up with women who already had children.
With bone-chilling certainty Tiffany realized that Stephen was reaching out for a family, longing for more than he had, searching for a father figure. Just as she had when she’d been his age.
Tears stung her eyes, and her hands shook as she set her cup on the table. “We can’t go to the wedding today, but—”
“You mean you won’t go,” Stephen interrupted.
“But I’ll see that we get together with your...grandfather and his new wife soon.”
“Goody!” Christina said, throwing up her hands and losing a piece of bacon from her fist. It fell to the floor only to be sniffed at disdainfully by a curious Charcoal who h
ad been sunning himself near the window.
J.D. looked as if he had more to say, but one glance at Tiffany seemed to tell him that she was having trouble with the discussion, so he quickly changed the subject to fixing up the house with Stephen’s help.
“What do you mean?” Stephen asked when J.D. suggested they start with the fence.
“We’ll shore it up, replace a few boards and then work on the porch or the windows.”
“I don’t know how to do anything like that.”
J.D.’s eyes glinted. “Then it’s time you learned.”
Though Stephen acted as if he’d do just about anything to escape from his uncle’s proposed list of duties, he finished his breakfast, dropped his plate into the sink and followed J.D. outside. Tiffany, still recovering from her son’s interrogation, cleaned the kitchen, then helped Christina take a shower while J.D. and Stephen tackled everything from the gutters to the back porch.
It was almost as if they were a small family.
Be careful, Tiffany, she cautioned herself. That kind of thinking might land you in trouble. Big trouble. J.D. is your brother-in-law. Not your husband!
But Christina didn’t know it. She seemed to be in heaven hanging around outside, a satellite who orbited around her uncle. Stephen, on the other hand, made no bones about the fact that he felt used and overworked. He grumbled continuously as he and J.D. cleaned the gutters and straightened the fence. He complained that he was supposed to meet friends, that his back hurt, that he was tired, but his uncle would have none of it and ran the boy ragged.
They stopped around one for sandwiches and lemonade, then went back to fixing the back porch where it sagged. Meanwhile, with the sound of hammers pounding nails ringing through the house, Tiffany changed the beds, did the laundry and caught up on some neglected paperwork.
Christina had protested vehemently against a nap and was starting to get cranky around three-thirty. By that time, Stephen looked exhausted, and J.D. finally released him from his duties.
Stephen was on the phone in a second and had made plans before Tiffany could say anything. “We’re going swimming,” he announced.
“Who?”
“Me and Sam.”
“Sam and I,” she automatically corrected.
Stephen rolled his eyes while Christina chased a grasshopper through the dry lawn.
“Be back by six for dinner,” Tiffany told her son as he grabbed his scarred skateboard and sailed down the sidewalk.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You will be,” she called after him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said before adjusting his balance and coasting agilely around the corner.
