Once a Good Girl... - Wendy S. Marcus

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looked up at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and hurt. “You’re not the person I thought you were. I’m sorry I ever encouraged Victoria to give you a chance.”

      Ali had been one of three people to see something good in him, something of value, at a time when he had been unable to see it himself. Victoria and her Aunt Livi had rounded out the triumvirate.

      The intercom in the room sounded. “Recovery Room on line two, Ali.”

      “Be right there,” she responded without taking her eyes off of him. “Do the right thing, Kyle. Leave. And don’t come back. Victoria’s worked so hard to put her life back together. She’s interested in a man for the first time since you …”

      What? Since he what?

      “You are the last thing she needs right now.”

      With that parting shot, Ali, at one time his closest friend, turned and left.

      Back in town for two days and Kyle had more questions than answers. If Victoria hadn’t cried rape, where had the accusation come from? What was she doing in Madrin Falls, working as a nurse? A caring, competent nurse from what he’d heard and seen, but why hadn’t she gone to Harvard to become a physician as planned? Why was Ali warning him off? Why did Victoria’s life need putting back together? The most stable, together person he knew, why was she suffering panic attacks? Who was Jake and how serious was their relationship?

      Sensitive to turmoil, Tori nuzzled his thigh. He petted her soft head. “We’ll find out, girl.” And since Victoria and Ali didn’t seem eager to enlighten him, after work he’d visit Aunt Livi.

      The small raised ranch-style home looked better than he could ever recall seeing it. Neater. Prettier. The white siding could have passed for new, the once-dingy black shutters gleamed and a bright red door matched what looked like a freshly painted version of the heavy, antique planters he’d lugged out of the garage every spring and back every fall, which sat at either side of the front porch steps.

      The gravel driveway he’d shoveled every winter for years looked newly paved, and the grass he’d mowed summer after summer, while sodden from the winter thaw, seemed fuller, healthier.

      Odds were Livi had finally snagged herself a man with an interest in home maintenance. Good for her. Only knowing she had a man inside made him feel a bit guilty showing up at dinnertime, with an apple pie and an empty stomach.

      The woman knew how to cook, and had never passed up an opportunity to invite Kyle in for a meal. Something he used to thank his lucky stars for, daily.

      A boy responded to his knock. That was unexpected. He looked familiar. Probably because he shared Livi’s kinky red hair.

      “I thought you were the UPS man,” he said with disappointment. “Mom,” he yelled over his shoulder. “There’s a man at the door.”

      The kid looked up at him, got an odd look on his face. Kyle noticed his eyes, the same eyes that stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.

      “Jake Forley, you know better than to open the door when you don’t know who it is,” a familiar female voice said from the top of the stairs.

      Over the kid’s shoulder Kyle caught a glimpse of Victoria, heading toward the door, looking very at home in pink warm-up pants and a white V-neck T.

      This was Jake? Kyle shifted so Victoria couldn’t see him. “Is that your mom?” Kyle asked quietly.

      The boy nodded.

      “How old are you?”

      “Eight.”

      Holy hell!

      CHAPTER THREE

      VICTORIA struggled down the steps to the front door to see who Jake was talking to, stopping short at the sight of Kyle, holding a pie box, his expression a disturbing mix of suspicion and loathing.

      “Go downstairs, Jake,” she said, needing a few minutes to talk to Kyle, to diffuse his anger before making any formal introductions. Although, based on the way they studied each other, Kyle had a pretty good idea who Jake was. And vice versa.

      Her son turned to her, looking hopeful and excited. Of course he’d recognized his father, whose picture he spoke to every night before bed. “But it’s …”

      “I know. Go downstairs and give us a few minutes to talk.”

      “I don’t—”

      “Now.” She flashed him the look that said she meant business then moved her gaze to Kyle. “What are you doing here?”

      “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He glared at her, dared her to refuse him.

      Every instinct she had screamed: Slam the door in his face, grab your son, and run. She needed time to talk to an attorney to find out Kyle’s rights. Her rights.

      To talk to Jake about his expectations and set limits on the time he’d spend with his dad, if any. To prepare her son for the possibility Kyle might not be in town long and might not be interested in playing an active role in his son’s life. And most important, she needed time to figure out how to protect herself, both personally and professionally. He’d almost ruined her life once. She would not give him the chance to do it again.

      “No,” she answered, hoping he’d leave, sure he wouldn’t.

      “But, Mom …” Jake whined.

      She pointed to the door of his playroom. “Down. Stairs.”

      “Can I take the dog?” Jake asked.

      For the first time she noticed Tori sitting quietly, looking up at her, watching her life unravel. “No,” she said.

      At the same time Kyle said, “Yes.”

      Discord, two minutes into co-parenting.

      Victoria tilted her head and shot Kyle her best evil eye, the one guaranteed to make most people squirm. Kyle was not most people. He simply shrugged. “Livi loves animals. I came to see her.”

      “Aunt Livi is dead,” Jake said matter-of-factly, and walked downstairs into his playroom. With a flick of the wrist from Kyle, his dog followed.

      “Close the door,” she said to her son.

      Jake did.

      Except for pictures and the many stories Victoria had repeated through the years, Jake had little memory of his grandaunt who’d died a few weeks before his third birthday, leaving Victoria alone to care for her son. Not that Aunt Livi had been much help the last year of her life, but she’d tried.

      Kyle paled, clutched the storm door, his knuckles white. “When?” The word came out hoarse.

      His upset did not surprise her. Kyle and Aunt Livi had had a special bond. “Despite his upbringing he’s a good boy. There’s something special inside him. We can’t let it go to waste.”

      She’d sure changed her tune when Victoria wound up pregnant, and Kyle wound up gone.

      “Five years ago,” she answered. “Heart attack.” Victoria still harbored guilt that taking in her pregnant niece against her brother’s wishes, dealing with his threats and harassment, and helping a distraught teenager care for her infant son had been too much for Aunt Livi’s fragile heart. That Victoria had been at least partially responsible for the death of the woman who’d loved her like a daughter and, in return, she’d loved like a mother.

      Tears threatened.

      Not a day went by that she didn’t think of Aunt Livi.

      “And you live here now.”

      “She left everything to me and Jake.” The house and second mortgage. The car and car loan. Unpaid taxes. Credit-card debt.

      The

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