I turned and watched Erin and Tom walk down the hill. A mischievous part of me was looking forward to my mother’s reaction when she met him, and she didn’t disappoint.
“Why didn’t you tell us you’d met someone?” she said to Erin.
“Because I’m a grown woman, mother. I don’t need your permission.”
I pursed my lips, and my father coughed into his fist. Erin only called her “mother” when she was annoyed.
“Besides,” she added, “I don’t discuss my relationships with you anymore, remember?”
Tom politely cleared his throat, the equivalent of Christy’s “be nice” looks. I chuckled when I realized that Erin and I had both found people who curbed our worst behavior.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Beth,” he said. “You too, David. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I doubt that,” my mother said under her breath.
“Now you see where she gets it,” I said to Tom, who grinned.
“Gets what?” Erin said irritably.
“Your slightly prickly personality, sister dear. No one is ever going to accuse you of being a shrinking violet.”
“And no one’s ever going to accuse you of having charm or tact.”
Dad broke in at that point. “So, what do you do, Tom?”
“I teach psychology,” he said immediately. “And I occasionally write a book about it.”
“Sounds interesting,” Dad said with bland politeness. “I mostly read aviation magazines. And the occasional thriller. Tom Clancy, John Grisham, that sort of thing. I don’t imagine your books are anything like that.”
“No,” Tom chuckled. “Mine are…”
My mother listened to Tom and my father talk about books for nearly a minute before she connected the dots. She could be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. (I came by it honestly.)
“Hold on,” she blurted, and Tom fell silent.
Erin actually smirked.
“Tom. As in Thomas?”
“Yes,” he said.
Mom actually stared at him and tried to remember where she’d seen him before.
Bless her heart…, I thought wryly. A book flap, perhaps? A talk show? Late night TV?
Erin leaned toward me and said quietly, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
“Thomas Ryland?” Mom said in growing disbelief. “The Thomas Ryland, PhD?”
“That’s me,” Tom said with subdued amusement. He’d obviously been through this before.
“What about him?” my father asked.
“He writes those books! You know the ones. I read one last year. What was it called?”
Tom waited a polite moment before he supplied the title.
“Exactly! How’d you—?” To her credit, my mother didn’t actually finish her thought. Instead, she realized she’d been played. She turned a baleful eye on Erin. “Very funny.”
“I thought so,” Erin smirked.
“Be nice,” I warned her, and Tom backed it up with a glance.
“You’re no fun,” she griped, cheerful instead of churlish.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said to my parents. “We should’ve told you.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Mom said. “I saw you on Oprah. Last year. That’s when I bought your book.”
“Ah, so you’re the one,” he said drolly. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it.”
“I did. How do you know so much about…?”
They fell into conversation, and I leaned toward Erin.
“Happy?”
“Oh, immensely.” She watched Mom for a moment, and her expression softened. “I don’t know why I let her get to me.”
“She pushes our buttons,” I said simply.
“All of them.”
“I suppose it’s her prerogative. I mean, she made them and all.”
“Ha! No kidding.”
Laurie climbed out of the lake and ran toward us. She arrived with a breathless pout. I tried to be cheerful instead, which was more of my mother’s influence.
“What’s up, Flower?”
“Emily’s splashing us.”
“It’s a lake,” I said. “Sometimes you get splashed.”
“Make her stop.”
“Have you asked her yourself?”
“Yes. She won’t listen.”
I sighed and glanced at my own parents, who’d stopped talking to Tom and were doing their best not to look amused. My dad was more or less successful, but my mom shouldn’t have tried.
“Will you come swim with us?” Laurie begged. “She listens to you.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” I said. “All right. But I have to warn you, I might need help crossing the lake. Will you protect me from the evil water fairies?”
Laurie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy. There aren’t any evil water fairies. That’s only in stories.”
“What about Mommy?”
Christy squawked indignantly from several feet away.
“She’s only evil when we disobey,” Laurie said.
“I am not!” Christy protested.
Laurie knew better than to argue, but she set her jaw defiantly. (Did I mention that she had my personality?)
“Come on,” I chuckled, “let’s go see about these water fairies.”
“Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll protect you.”
“I’m counting on it!”
* * *
I was still in the lake with the kids when I saw a familiar figure walking down the hill. She was too far away to see any details, but that didn’t stop me from watching her. She looked good, although I sighed at the man beside her. He was wearing shorts. I wasn’t sure what I’d been hoping for, but he wasn’t it.
After a moment I sighed again, although at myself this time. Don’t rush to judgement. Always be mindful. I focused on my breathing and heart rate instead, things I could change. Then I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Glen Otis, wherever he was.
“All right,” I said to the girls, “I need to get out for a while.”
“No, Daddy!”
“Unh!”
“Sim!”
“Sorry,” I said, “I’m worn out. And I need to talk to an old friend.”
Wren had seen them too, and she hopped into the water to relieve me.
“I know,” she said to the girls, “let’s see if the boys want to race. I bet we’ll beat them. What do you say?”
Laurie was all for it, which meant that Emily was even more for it. Missy followed Emily’s lead, and the younger girls were happy to join in the excitement. Kara’s twins weren’t very competitive, but they shrugged in unison and decided that a race sounded fun.
“Thanks,” I murmured to Wren on the way past.
“Mmm. Good luck.”
I grabbed my towel and dried my hair as I walked around the lake, although my eyes never left the couple. They’d reached our little family group and were talking to them.
In my head I’d always thought of Gina as the teenage girl I’d fallen in love with, but the current reality was thirty-three and still beautiful. Her breasts were a little heavier and her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been, but at least she wasn’t rail-thin anymore. I realized with a shock that cocaine had probably kept her that way.
She looked good otherwise. Her hairstyle was an LA version of the Rachel (yes, from Friends), which made me smile. Christy had gone through the same phase, although her current hair was a layered bob, more like Monica’s. It was easy to manage, so our towheaded princesses sported the same hairdo.
Gina and the man both turned when I approached. She smiled, warm and genuine, but her dark eyes were different. They were calmer now, filled with a peace that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey yourself.” I was acutely aware of all the people around us—her family and mine, but especially Christy—so I shifted my attention to the man. I wanted to say something about his shorts but decided not to. Different strokes. “You must be John,” I said instead. “I’m Paul. Nice to finally meet you.”