The Mommy Bride

In the distance, bells rang from the hundred-year-old steeple at the First Baptist Church. The bright chimes echoed through the streets, lending as much character and personality to Lane’s End as the flowers hanging in baskets around the scenic historic district in the summer.

After catching a green light at the top of Mission Street, Ty finally pulled into his own house, a restored three bedroom home in the heart of downtown Lane’s End that he rented from another doctor. The ancient oak door stuck as he worked the key into the lock, turning it first to the left, then firmly to the right. When he entered, the first real sense of peace washed over him as he carried his grocery sacks into the remodeled kitchen.

Home, at least for now. The ceilings were a little too low, and the wooden floor was scratched and scraped from Maisy’s toenails. A faint chill crawled out of the window frames and the kitchen faucet had a constant, slow drip. But even counting all those flaws, Ty loved the old place. He loved how it made him feel, living in a house that had been home to so many before him.

Ty wasn’t sure why Dr. Michaels had offered him the place to rent for the past two years, but Ty was extremely grateful. Every two years, the elderly doctor offered one of the residents the home to live in for next to nothing. Dr. Michaels jokingly said it was his way of knowing that at least one of the residents was getting enough rest at night.

Ty knew it was a stroke of good luck. If he wasn’t living on Mission Street, some days he thought he’d be living in a mission.

Now, he had a rundown place with lots of personality and a really nice kitchen, thanks to the previous resident who’d accidentally flooded the dishwasher and ruined the floor and cabinetry.

Quickly, Ty emptied his grocery bags, pulling out the boxes of Hungry-Man dinners that had been on sale, along with two boxes of cereal, a case of Ramen noodles, and a gallon of milk. After picking out the Salisbury steak dinner, Ty leaned back against the counter as the microwave did its magic.

Maisy hopped off the couch and finally came over to say hello.

“How are you doing, girl?” he asked his old retriever.

“You keep everything running smooth today?”

Maisy lifted her muzzle so he could scratch her behind her ears. He let her outside and as Ty watched his old dog carefully make her way down the snow-covered back steps, he sipped a beer and thought about the woman he’d been trying so hard to ignore: Claire Grant.

From the moment he saw her hovering over her son at the wrestling meet, he’d been charmed. There was something so delicate about her…though he was quickly finding out that she was hardly fragile at all.

No, behind those wide-set golden eyes and dark blond hair was a woman who relied on herself. All practicality and patience.

He’d seen something in her son at the meets that reminded him of himself. He saw something in her manner that reminded him of the not-so-good places he’d been. He’d heard phrases he knew well. Words that didn’t say much but effectively covered up not-so-good circumstances. He saw pretty smiles that never quite reached the eyes.

And one day, weeks ago, he’d heard her tell her coworker Lynette she was “fine.” And that “fine” told him so much.

He should know—he’d had plenty of experience telling everyone he was fine when inside he was feeling like a lit match.

Those similarities had intrigued him. They made him want to get to know her better. And for a split second, he’d thought she felt the same way. But she’d rebuffed his clumsy offer of coffee.

He had enough of an ego to first be taken aback. He thought he looked pretty good, he had a good job. He was stable. All those things counted, right?

He’d thought they did.

So why had she said no? Was it really because of Wes?

Was it because she didn’t date? Or, was it that she didn’t want to date him?

Maisy’s scratching at the door brought him back to the present. “Let’s have some dinner, girl,” he said, pouring a cupful of Mighty Munchies into her bowl.

As Maisy attacked her food with gusto, Ty made a mental note to visit Wes’s next wrestling match. It wouldn’t do any harm to check on the boy’s shoulder. At the very least, Claire looked like she could use another friend. He supposed he could, too.

As the latest basketball results filled the TV screen, he almost felt happy. Maybe for once everything was going to work out.

HE FELT DIFFERENTLY at three in the morning. With a weary hand, Ty rubbed his eyes and moved to the edge of his bed, too-tense muscles once again warring with an active mind. Four hours tonight.

All in all, that was pretty good.

He didn’t sleep. He hadn’t since college, when he’d worked and studied at odd hours. Now, in his residency, sleep was a catch-can thing, too.

He just wished night demons wouldn’t plague him all the while and make things worse. Because the night was when he remembered the heartbreak of Sharon.

And he could still remember exactly what she’d said. There was no way she wanted to be saddled with a guy who was going to owe more money than she could imagine making during the next couple of years. And, well, she’d met someone else. An older guy who’d just been hired on at a big investment firm. It was time to call it quits.

Ty didn’t need a counselor to tell him that his mother’s leaving, his father’s lack of warm fuzzies and his girlfriend’s betrayal was enough to deliver a whopper of a punch. For a lifetime.

And it had.

Oh, he’d gotten through it, it was what he did best—what he’d learned to do back when he was a kid and nobody was around to get him up in the morning.

You didn’t complain. You did the best you could and tried to feel satisfied. You learned not to trust other people because sometimes things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to.

But maybe it was time to do things a little differently. Maybe it was time to start living again.

Chapter Three

“Claire, I really appreciate you helping us out,” Gene Davidson said from the doorway leading into the concession stand the following Saturday. “We were really shorthanded for volunteers at today’s meet.”

“It’s not a problem, coach,” she replied, muscling the giant amount of pancake batter in the industrial-size bowl. Feeding almost a hundred wrestlers after weigh-ins required an amazing amount of pancakes! “I’m a team parent. We all have to help out sooner or later.”

“Wes told me you’ve been putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. I bet you’d rather be sleeping at six-thirty on a Saturday morning.”

Claire wondered why Gene even brought that up. She was pretty sure all the parents on the team worked hard and would rather be sleeping in.

“Wes has to be here anyway,” she said with a smile.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Gene held up a hand. “I’m not worried, I just wanted you to know I appreciate your time.”

Claire’s shoulders relaxed as she realized she wasn’t going to have to go to battle with the man to prove once again that she was stronger than she looked.

As yet another rush of boys passed, their hair sticking straight up and sleepy expressions on their faces, Claire stopped stirring for a moment and tried to find Wes.

He’d been grumpy this morning, answering all her questions with one-word answers. Claire wondered if he was more nervous about the meet than he let on.

Unfortunately, Claire didn’t see a hint of her son in the crowd of teenagers. Only a familiar man leaning against the wall near the kitchen entrance and checking off something on a clipboard.

Ty Slattery smiled when their eyes met. “Way to put Coach Davidson in his place,” he said, making it obvious he’d heard every word of her previous conversation. “I bet he won’t say a word next time you show up early to make pancakes.”

Oops. “Did I sound rude?”

“Not rude, just a little brusque.” Stepping forward, he said, “How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The look Ty gave her, so warm and caring, made Claire stir the batter with a little more force than necessary. Made her think maybe he was more attractive than she’d originally thought.

His look made Claire feel like she was missing something. Made her remember that once upon a time she believed in dreams and fairy tales. In happily-ever-afters.

No way was she ever going down that path again. “You’re here early, too.”

“I’m working today—helping to coach and with any medical emergencies.”

“Gene should have been thanking you for your time. I know you’ve been putting in long hours at the hospital—practically every time I’ve come in your name has been listed as one of the doctors on duty.”

He shrugged off her comment. “It’s part of being a resident, I guess. Fortunately, this last rotation of mine is not too intense. I’ve got more days and weekends off than I can ever remember having.”

More kids wandered by. Jill Young, another wrestling parent, reached behind her to get cooking spray. “I’ll get started on the griddle, Claire.”

Claire was just about to say her goodbyes to Ty when he spoke again. “Coach asked if I’d check out a couple of kids for Lane’s End and the other competing teams. I decided to catch them while they weighed in. I’ll be sure and take a good look at Wes’s shoulder.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Because he was still standing there—even though they’d both commented on how busy they were and how much there still was to do—she said, “You can come back for pancakes when you’re done.”

“Are you finally agreeing to have a meal with me, Claire?”

“I’m offering to make you some pancakes, Dr. Slattery.”

After almost a full minute, Ty replied. “I’ll take you up on that. Beggars and choosers, you know.”

Just like she’d touched a barbed wire, a little zing charged right through her when he smiled again before turning to another group of incoming boys.

With more care than necessary, Claire picked up the whisk and attacked the batter again. No. She so did not need to even think about Ty Slattery…or her reaction to him.

Surely there had to be something about him she didn’t like. His smile? No, she liked that fine. The way he looked in those baggy khakis, like he’d rolled out of bed into the first pair of trousers that were available? No, rumbled clothes had never bothered her.

Maybe she really didn’t like the way he was always around. Always so helpful, like she didn’t have a mind of her own. Maybe it was his playful semi-flirting.

Yeah. That’s what she didn’t like. She didn’t like that one bit.

Claire, you’re worthless! Ray’s voice charged forth from the dead. Reminding her that she didn’t need—or want—a man in her life.

She might make pancakes for men. She might even serve them with a smile. But she sure as heck didn’t need to have them flirting with her. No way. No how.

“You okay, Claire? I think the batter’s called a truce,” Jill said.

With a clatter, the spoon hit the side of the stainless steel bowl. “Sorry, I don’t know where my mind went. I think I’ll go check on the syrup.”

Claire scurried out before Jill could say a word about that.

FIVE HOURS LATER, Wes slipped a burnished pewter-colored medal around his neck. “It’s only fourth place, Mom,” he said modestly, though his eyes told a whole different story. In them, Claire saw triumph and pride, two things that she knew were hard to obtain.

“Fourth place is terrific! We’ll have to put that medal on the wall at home.”

Wes looked over at the boy from a neighboring district wearing the gold medal. “It’s not that big a deal.”

His hot and cold bursts were wearing her out. “I think it is. If they didn’t think fourth place was special, they wouldn’t have made a medal for it, now would they?”

His chin rose and, in his eyes, a faint glimmer of pride shone for a moment. “I never thought of that.”

Unable to stop herself from touching him, Claire brushed back a thatch of hair from his forehead. “That’s why you have me, honey. To remind you.”

Like a flash, her son’s expression changed again. “Mom!”

“What?”

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered. “And don’t do that, either.”

Claire felt like she’d just been slapped. “Don’t do what?” For the life of her, all she could remember doing was being encouraging. “Wes, I’m just trying—”

“Stop, Mom.”

As Wes ran off to the locker room to wash as well as he could and get changed, Claire sat back down, letting her shoulders slump in the near empty stands.

“You okay?”

Ty. For once, she didn’t even care that he was nearby. Again. Right that minute, she could use a friend. Any friend. Correction, any understanding person. “Yeah.”

“You don’t look like it.”

Resting her elbows on her thighs, Claire said, “It’s nothing. Just teenage boy stuff. It’s all new to me.”

“What? You weren’t a teenage boy once?”

That made her laugh. “You’re right. I never thought I’d say this, but this is when I miss having a brother. I seem to really be messing up this afternoon.”

As boys and parents wandered around, picking up old Gatorade bottles, sweatpants and smelly socks, Claire kept her attention on the locker room door.

Ty kept his attention on Claire. He knew she was a single mom, but didn’t know much about her past. He also couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t mention Wes’s dad. Giving in to impulse, he said, “Where is Wes’s dad?”

Her eyes became guarded again. “Gone.”

“Oh.” Yep, that question had been a mistake. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no secret.” Finally sparing him a glance, Claire shrugged and added, “He passed away about three years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We were separated before that. We had a lot of problems. He, um, wasn’t a good husband. But he did love Wes. In his own way, at least. I guess that counts for something, huh?”

Thinking back to his own childhood, where his dad did the best he could even though a lot of times it wasn’t too good at all, Ty nodded.

Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled weakly. “Sorry, I’m not one of those people who loves to talk about themselves.”

He got that. He didn’t like to talk about himself, either.

And because her announcement was so refreshing, sounded so good, he wanted to know more. What had happened with her husband? He hadn’t been a good husband? What did that mean? What had happened to her?

Since she obviously didn’t want to speak of it, he gestured to the boys’ locker room. “What set Wes off?”

“I praised fourth place and called him ‘honey.’” Biting her bottom lip, Claire said, “At least I think that’s what I did wrong.”

“Not so good to a competitive, tough wrestler. Almost fighting words.”

Surprise and a bit of humor filled her gaze. “You get it.”

“Unlike you, I was a boy once.”

As they watched Wes, dressed in gray sweats and carrying an old backpack on his shoulder, leave the locker room with two other boys, Ty noticed a ribbon around the boy’s neck, though the medal was tucked under his sweatshirt. “Something tells me he’s prouder of that medal than he let on.”

“You think so?” Hope sprang to life in her eyes. “When I said that I thought fourth place was great, he glared. I keep saying the wrong things today.”

“Ever think that maybe you’re saying everything right and it’s Wes who’s taking everything wrong?”

“No. I need to support Wes. To be the best person I possibly can for him. I’ll just have to work on my words with him a little bit more.”

Wes picked up his pace as he approached. “Hi, Dr. Slattery.”

“Hi.”

Wes looked at him curiously. Claire probably would never see it, but there was a definite look of possession in the boy’s posture. Wes put it into words. “What are you doing here with my mom? My shoulder was good today.”

“It looked like it. I just wanted to tell you I saw your pin in that last match. How many seconds did that last? Thirty?”

“Coach said twenty-eight.”

There was a hint of a swagger in Wes’s voice. Ty firmly kept his expression low-key instead of smiling. “Impressive.”

“Yeah. I’m not very good. Some guys on the squad did youth wrestling, so they’ve got lots of experience. I’m getting better, though.”

“Good enough to place, huh?”

Wes fingered the ribbon around his neck. “Yeah. I was really surprised. This is just my second year. Coach said I did a good job.”

Though Claire was quiet, Ty noticed she was loving the amount of information Wes was divulging. Obviously, the boy had mastered the “I’m fine, nothing’s new” routine. Because he was intrigued by Claire’s past and because it looked like Wes could use a buddy, he impulsively said, “Hey, I was thinking about going out for chili. Are you hungry, Wes? Maybe we could all grab something to eat.”

“I’m starved.” After glancing his mom’s way, he tempered his response. “I mean, yeah, I could probably eat.”

Now all Ty had to do was convince Wes’s mom to give him a chance. “Do you like Cincinnati chili, Claire?”

She blinked. “Not really.”

“Oh. Well, they have other things at Skyline,” he said quickly. Why hadn’t he offered to go out for burgers? “I think they have salads there.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think—”

“It’s just food, Claire. I promise.”

“Thanks, but maybe some other time.” Turning to her son, she said, “Wes, are you ready to go home?”

Wes hadn’t moved. “No. I’m starving, Mom. Why can’t we go out to eat? We never go out to eat.”

Something dimmed in her eyes. “That’s because—”

Quickly Ty spoke. The last thing he’d wanted to happen was to bring up a touchy subject. “You sure about dinner? We could go to Wendy’s or something—”

After another look at Wes, Claire said, “You know what? Chili’s fine.”

“So that means we can go?” Wes asked.

“I think fourth place deserves a special treat.” Hesitantly, she glanced Ty’s way. “Are you sure you have time to eat with us, Dr. Slattery?”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Mom, he asked us.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want your company,” Ty stressed.

“Please, Mom?”

“All right, then. We’ll meet you there. For chili.”

“Great. I’ll go ahead and get us a table.” Ty walked out before Claire could change her mind.

Of course, Ty didn’t know if Claire had ultimately agreed because she, too, knew there was something tangible between them…or if she was only thinking of her son.

At the moment, he didn’t want to know.

Chapter Four

After edging her Corolla out of the icy parking lot and onto the salt-treated streets, Claire sneaked a peek at Wes.

Without a word, he’d tossed his backpack on the backseat and climbed in next to her. Now he was pushing buttons on the radio, flipping stations every twenty seconds. With each push, clips of loud music burst out of the speakers, jarring Claire even more than the chunks of gravel and snow under the wheels of the car. “Choose a station now, Wes.”

“I’m trying.”

“Choose or the radio’s going off,” she said, purposely injecting a tone that welcomed no argument.

His finger hovered over the knob before he defiantly turned it off himself. “Fine. Now nothing’s on. Happy?”

Claire bit back a sigh as she slowly rolled to a stop at the light. What in the world was going on with him? Was this typical teen behavior? Something more?

Instead of berating him for his attitude, she cast him a worried look. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“I guess.”

Something was wrong. That gravelly tone in his voice only came when he was on the verge of tears. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped about the radio, but it’s hard to concentrate on the road when a different song clicks on every two seconds. You’ll understand when you’re driving.”

“That’s a long time from now.”

“Not so long. Just three years.”

“That’s forever.”

As the light turned green and she accelerated, Claire privately knew better. Forever was never a long time.

For years, it had just been the two of them. Wes probably didn’t realize it, but he was her stability, her rock. No matter what was going on in their lives, she could count on Wes to be her partner. Now it looked like that relationship was changing.

“You can try the radio again if you want.”

After a moment’s pause, Wes pushed the button and again went through the whole process, just like he hadn’t heard a word she said. As Christina got replaced by Pink and then by some rapper, Claire had had enough. Pushing the power button in, an abrupt silence permeated the interior of the car.

Wes scowled. “What did you do that for?”

“You know why. You pushing button after button gives me a headache.”

“There’s no good music on.”

“I told you we could pop in a cassette.”

“Mom, your car has to be the only one in Ohio that still has a cassette player. We need a CD player. Or better yet, an iPod. You can get an attachment so you can hear your iPod in the car.”

So much for Wes being her partner. If he was, he’d realize she was pretty darn happy to have a car, an apartment, food and money in the bank. “Maybe next year.”

“It’s always next year.”

“We used to hope for the very things we have now,” she pointed out, just about at the end of her patience. “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten what life was like, living in our van.”

He slumped. “I haven’t forgotten. I just get sick of never having what everyone else has. Here in Lane’s End everyone has stuff I don’t.”

“Even rich kids want things they don’t have, Wes. You need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got. Count your blessings.”

“You tell me that every day.”

“Obviously I need to. What is going on with you? Is it the wrestling meet? Is your shoulder bothering you?”

“No.”

“What? And don’t say nothing. We’re almost at Skyline Chili. I don’t want you pulling this attitude in front of Dr. Slattery—especially since he was nice enough to ask us out to eat.”

His eyes narrowed. “How come he invited us, anyway? How come Dr. Slattery is always talking to you?”

Well, there it was. Wes was wondering what was going on with Ty and herself. And since she didn’t really know, Claire decided to slowly feel her way through the conversation. “I didn’t realize Ty was always talking to me.”

“Mom, he sat near you when he ate pancakes. I saw. Now he wants us to go out for chili with him.”

“Why are you asking me about this now? You’re the one who wanted to go out to eat. I tried to go home. Remember?”

“I remember. It’s just that we never go out to eat.”

“You know the reason for that. So, you only wanted to go out because it’s a restaurant meal?”

“Maybe I like talking to Dr. Slattery sometimes. He’s pretty cool. For someone so old.”

Claire curbed a smile. The way Wes spoke, it sounded like Ty was ancient. And she definitely knew her son liked being around men and doing “guy” stuff. Maybe this meal wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Choosing her words carefully, Claire said, “You know, Ty is pretty cool. And going out to eat during the week is pretty special. Maybe he feels the same way. Dr. Slattery lives alone, you know.”

The conversation paused as Claire slowly turned right, then left. There weren’t too many cars on the street, which was a real blessing. The little Corolla did okay in bad weather but was no match against the powerful SUVs that seemed to be the norm in Lane’s End.

Like Wes, sometimes she found herself wishing for things she didn’t have.

Wes broke the silence just as the bright blue and yellow Skyline Chili sign loomed about a hundred yards away. “So. Do you like him?”

“I like Dr. Slattery fine.”

“I mean like a boyfriend.”