Jennifer Greene - Yours, Mine & Ours

But it was four-thirty by then, and Amanda still wasn’t home.

He knew how courts worked. How custody hearings went. Amanda had no way of knowing how long she’d be gone, and she’d have called him if she expected to be crazy late, or if anything had happened. She’d never have left her daughter hanging.

So there was no reason for him to worry.

And he wasn’t worried exactly.

He was just glued to the window.

At ten to five, her white SUV zoomed into the driveway. The sound of the car sent Slugger baying and Cat snarling at the dog door to confront the arrival. Molly and Teddy didn’t budge-they were near the end of the movie-but when Mike said, “Your mom’s just pulling in, Mol,” the little one bounced to her feet.

Slugger and Cat beat everyone else out the door to greet her, then came kids, with Mike bringing up the rear. By the time he got a look, she was bending down to give Molly a giant hug and kiss, so he couldn’t see her face.

Teddy got in there, to start explaining that he thought he should have time at her house, too, and Amanda was agreeing with him. “I was thinking of something we could do that would be fun for you. You like getting your hands dirty, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Teddy confirmed.

“In fact, Teddy, I was thinking…maybe you could come over when we have a baking afternoon. Lots of flour all over the place. Lots of messes. Lots of squishing butter between your fingers. We could make pies or cookies or something. That sound okay to you?”

“That sounds like something I’ve wanted to do my whole life. And nobody ever let me before.”

After Teddy’s turn, his hound had to be petted, and Molly was still talking to her mom nonstop…but finally, finally, she lifted her head. “Hey, neighbor.

Did you survive?”

“We had a blast.”

“Uh-huh. What do I owe you? A day in a padded cell? Brownies? Cookies for the rest of your life? Slave labor cleaning floors? Pizza?”

She made the kids laugh…he did, too. “Let me think on it.”

“Yeah, you probably need a five-hour nap, huh?”

He chuckled again at her teasing, since she clearly wanted him to. “Everything go okay for you?”

“Sure did,” she said heartily. “Tell you about it when I get a chance. In the meantime…I’d better get Molly in and my brood fed and watered. Thanks, Mike. I really, really appreciate it.”

“Hey, no sweat. Anytime,” he said, and meant it. She looked at him, her expressions, her words, as if he were seriously a cherished friend, sincerity radiating from her tone and smile.

They were doing the friend thing really well, he thought.

And wished he could kick a mountain in the shins.

Something had whipped the hell out of her in that custody hearing. He didn’t know who won what-or who lost what-but Amanda’s eyes had the fierce brightness of a lioness. She was hurting. Bad.

Mike felt a sudden, sharp ripping sensation. Her hurting wasn’t supposed to be his business.

She didn’t want a hero. She wanted a friend. She didn’t want someone to beat up her enemies, to protect her, to watch over her.

She wanted a friend. She didn’t want him in the parts of her life that involved pain or fear or any of that other rotten life crap. She just wanted a friend.

Those were her rules.

Well, they’d played it her way. Now they were going to play it his way.

Well, Amanda thought, she’d handled that reasonably well. Or as well as she possibly could have. Mike hadn’t guessed she was upset. Neither of the kids sensed anything was wrong…although Molly was still sneaking questions at bedtime.

“I think you’re going to be a prosecuting attorney when you grow up,” Amanda said as she snuggled Molly in fresh sheets and her favorite doll of the week.

“I don’t know what a prosecutor attorney is.”

“It means someone who’s really good at asking questions. And at finding ways to get the answers they want.” She bent over to kiss Molly good-night. “Did you have a good time next door?”

“I told you that already. I had a great time. I didn’t scream about the worms. I just ignored Teddy when he was being awful that way. And I helped Mr. Mike in a whole lot of ways.”

“You did, huh?”

“He thinks I’m smart.”

“Everybody thinks you’re smart. Because you are.”

“I know. But he listens to me. Like I wasn’t a little kid. Like I was somebody you want to listen to.”

“Well, that’s really good.” The fairy night-light stayed on, but Amanda switched off the pink lamp with the fringe shade

“Mommy. Don’t go. I need some mommy time.”

“We can have all the mommy time you want tomorrow. But it’s late tonight.”

“Just a couple more minutes!”

Amanda wasn’t positive she could hold it together for a “couple more minutes,” but she sank back on the bed and said, “Okay, whiffer-sniffer.”

Molly giggled. “Thank you very much, Bonklewonkle.” It was an old game, always worth some smiles, but then Molly got more serious. “I don’t know what a meeting is. But I don’t like it, when I don’t know where you are.”

“A meeting is just a word to describe when people are getting together for some reason. And you may not always know where I am, Mol, but you will always, always be able to reach me. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll always have the cell phone on for you.”

“But something could happen to the cell phone. It could break. Or fall in the sink. Or drop in a lake. Or a car could run over it.”

“You’re right. Even having a very, very, very good cell phone isn’t totally foolproof. Things happen. But I would never leave you with anyone who couldn’t find another way to reach me.”

“Okay. I think. Mom.”

“What?”

“You were at the vet today, weren’t you?”

“No. Where’d you get that idea?”

“It just came into my mind. I don’t know how it got there. But if you weren’t at the vet’s, where were you?”

Amanda had prepared that answer before coming home, so it could slip off her tongue, fast and easy. “I was talking with some attorneys about some business.”

“Well, don’t talk to those attorneys again. Just talk to Mr. Mike. He’s an attorney. We don’t need any other attorneys. And then you wouldn’t have to be gone for a whole afternoon.”

“Hey. I’ve been gone lots of afternoons, and you never had a sweat before. Think of swimming with Grandma. And the Curious Kids Museum with Grandma and Grandpa. And you used to do mornings in daycare when I was working. You know I always come back.”

“I know.”

“I can’t be with you every second. And you can’t be with me every second. But that’s okay. Then we come back together and can tell each other about our adventures. Right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“So are we square?”

“We are very, very, very square. But, Mom.”

“What, hon?”

“Just don’t go wherever you went today, okay? Anywhere else is okay. But not to that meeting again.”

“I’ll try my best, ragamuffin. And now, you try your best to sleep really good, okay?”

“One more kiss?”

“Three more kisses, and don’t you dare try to escape a great big old hug, too.”

There. A few more giggles, more hugs, and finally, Amanda could ease the door closed and tiptoe out into the hall.

Her smile died; her shoulders sagged, and she lifted a shaky hand to pull the pins out of her hair. Her mother had left a message on the machine. An old friend from high school had left another message, said he’d be in town over the weekend, and hoped they could get together.