Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [171]
Picking up a sponge, she cleaned up the mess on the floor and packed Danny's lunch. When she went into the living room, Danny was stuffing his homework into his backpack with an expression so woebegone he looked more like six than twelve.
His drooping mouth caught at Jenny's heart. It reminded her of simpler times, when Danny hadn't thought beyond his next cookie. He was growing up fast, too fast, asking questions she didn't want to answer, wanting things he couldn't have -- like his father.
She was losing her child, her baby, and she couldn't bear the thought.
"Runner on first," Jenny said.
Danny looked up. "Huh?"
"Runner on first. Two outs. Two strikes, one ball. What's the pitch?"
A reluctant smile spread across Danny's face. "The heater."
"No curve?"
He shook his head. "Blow some smoke, Mom."
Jenny drew back her arm, Danny's sack lunch clutched in her hand. "The runner steals. The pitcher turns. She throws." Jenny hurled the bag across the room.
Danny caught it and dropped to the floor, tagging an imaginary runner. "You're out."
"Nice play."
"Nice throw -- for a girl."
Jenny walked over and pushed the cowlick down at the corner of Danny's head.
He brushed her hand away. "Aw, Mom."
"Hug me good-bye?" she asked hopefully.
Danny rolled his eyes, but did allow her one quick squeeze. It wasn't enough. She was lucky to get that much.
Danny paused at the front door. "Can we go to the mall this weekend? I want to buy a gift for your birthday."
Jenny looked at her son for a long moment, not sure if she should be touched by his thoughtfulness or impressed by his ability to manipulate her. The quirk at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Nice try, kiddo. Is Sportsworld having a sale?"
"Come to think of it ..."
"We'll see."
"That means no."
"That means, we'll see. Maybe Alan can go with us."
Danny made a face at the mention of Jenny's boyfriend. "Forget it."
"Come on, Danny, give Alan a chance. He's trying."
"Yeah, right." Danny hiked up his too-big blue jeans under his too-big sweatshirt and placed his San Francisco Giants baseball cap on backward.
Jenny sent him an affectionate look. Even though his clothes were atrocious, his attitude worse, he was still her kid, and underneath all that adolescent armor beat a tender and loving heart. She just had to remember that.
"You do understand about your father, don't you?" she asked.
Danny looked her in the eye. "No, I don't understand. I have a right to know my father. Kids are supposed to have two parents."
"I wish it could have been different."
"Don't you want to know what happened to him, Mom? Don't you care about him at all?" Danny didn't wait for an answer. He ran down the steps, across the grass, and disappeared from view.
Jenny walked out to the sidewalk to pick up her morning paper. The street was quiet and peaceful, just a block from the Pacific Ocean. It was a working-class neighborhood with small one-story homes, neatly kept yards, and plenty of bikes, skateboards, and soccer balls to keep the kids happy. There wasn't a lot of money in this part of town, but there was a lot of pride and a lot of love.
As she turned to go back to the house, Jenny saw her elderly neighbor Grace Patterson digging in her garden.
Grace was wearing a wide-brim straw hat to protect her aging skin from the sun and a pair of strong, dirty gloves over her thin hands. Despite her advanced age, somewhere in her seventies, Grace still worked in her garden, baked cookies for the neighborhood kids, and kept an eye out for Jenny and Danny. She was one of the reasons Jenny liked living in Half Moon Bay, a small coastal community just south of San Francisco. People cared about each other here. They weren't just neighbors but friends.
"Morning, Grace," Jenny called.
Grace looked up and waved. "Good morning. How are you today?"
"Late."
"Same as always." She tipped her head toward the street. "Danny ran by in an awful hurry. Everything okay?"
"He's almost a teenager."
"Don't say another word." Grace laughed as she got to her feet and walked