Glynna Kaye - Dreaming of Home

Okay, so it wasn’t surprising his son would be drawn to her. Maybe he did miss his mom. His grandmother, too, with whom he’d lived the past two years while Joe was halfway around the world. But not long ago Davy’s grandmother contacted him with troubling news that the situation was about to change, and Joe needed to come home.

Immediately.

He closed his eyes for a moment as a fist gripped his heart, determined not to think about that tonight. About his sister-in-law’s scheming intentions to take Davy away from him. Yeah, there was plenty of time to get to know the neighbors later. He and Davy needed uninterrupted father-son time.

Listening to the chatter around the table, it struck him that Meg’s interest in everything Davy had to say seemed genuine. From the Pacific beach he loved to romp on, to the puppy he was convinced he needed, she talked to him like he was a grown-up, not a baby.

But he’d picked up mixed signals on the sleepover deal. When Davy made his bold suggestion, he didn’t miss the sudden stillness that came over her expression or the hand that froze as she reached for her glass. Did she want a little kid she didn’t know bunking with her? Once she recovered from Davy’s rude proposal, though, she seemed to support it. Women. Go figure.

Okay. He could handle this. It was only one night, right? Tomorrow, in private, he’d deal with Davy—and his own interfering dad—about putting people on the spot. He stood to clear the table, taking a deep breath as he prepared to give the sleepover his reluctant blessing.

“You know what I think we ought to do, Davy?” Meg leaned forward, her gentle eyes on his son.

“What?”

“Instead of a sleepover, I think you should come to my place for dessert tonight. Then you and your dad can decide when you can stay overnight another time. Maybe when you can stay longer.”

Joe’s grateful eyes met Meg’s.

“But I want to come tonight.” Davy’s lower lip drooped.

“I know, but it’s already getting late. Probably almost your bedtime, right, Dad?” She glanced up at Joe. “If you stay tonight, all you’ll do is sleep, and we won’t get to play.”

“How about it, bud?” Joe prodded. “I bet Miss Meg makes a mean dessert.”

A frowning Davy pushed back in his chair and focused a challenging glare on his father. Joe braced himself.

Meg leaned forward as if oblivious to the father-son standoff, her tone playful. “Guess what I have, Davy.”

Eyes still clouded with disappointment, the boy turned. “What?”

“I have a blue fish named Skooter.”

“Blue?” Davy’s eyes brightened. “Is it real?”

“Yep.” She glanced down at her watch. “And I bet he’s getting hungry right about now. Should we go feed him?”

Davy turned back to his father, this time with a smile. “She has a blue fish.”

“You can see it if you go get your shoes,” Joe instructed, relieved the issue could be so easily resolved. No arguments. No tears. No tantrums.

On either of their parts.

The boy slid out of his chair, then with a bouncing gait headed to the hallway.

Joe focused again on Meg. “Now you’re sure you’re okay with this? If it’s not convenient—I mean, it is Saturday night. You probably have plans.”

“Hot date?” Bill teased.

Joe frowned.

Meg shook her head. “I was going to do laundry, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

“Okay. But I don’t like him inviting himself like that.” Joe cut a look at his father. “Or third parties aiding and abetting.”

Bill pushed back from the table and waved him away. “He’s five years old. If he was eighteen and invited himself to a sleepover at Meg’s, then you could have a serious talk.”

Joe responded with a sneer but couldn’t ignore the gut-punched sensation in his midsection. He didn’t want to think about Davy turning eighteen.

“An RV’s kind of an exciting place to a kid,” Meg pointed out. “Like a tree house or a tent. A dessert night will let him get a taste of adventure.”

He looked down at her. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“She’s sure, Joe, or she wouldn’t have suggested it.”

Davy appeared in the room again, arms laden with a huge stuffed bear.

“Hey, mister, you don’t need to take that thing.”

Davy clutched the plush creature. “He’s not a thing. He’s Bear.”

Joe took a step toward Davy, intending to confiscate the animal, but his son clasped the fuzzy critter tighter and spun away.

“Excuse me.” He held up his hands in defeat. “Fine. Whatever.”

Meg rose. “Let me help clean up. That’s the least I can do to thank you for inviting me to join you.”

“Thanks, but we might want to get going. I can tell someone’s getting cranky.”

Meg moved to the door to reclaim her shoes and laundry, but not before Joe glimpsed a quickly suppressed smile. Was she laughing at him? Implying he was the one getting cranky?

“Let’s go, bud.” He grabbed the throw blanket from the sofa, wrapped Davy up and swept boy and Bear into his arms.

Outside, Meg led the way through the moonlit RV park, weaving among the massive-trunked pines casting dense shadows on the threesome. Dried needles and leaves crunched under their feet. Crisp, faintly wood-smoked air assailed Joe’s senses, bringing back long-buried memories of his growing-up years in Canyon Springs. How odd to be here. The last place on earth he ever thought to be again. And certainly not as a single dad.

“This is it.”

Meg stepped under the lighted, striped canvas awning of what he knew to be a Class-C motor home. About a 20-footer from stem to stern, the midsized kind that fit over the top of a small pickup cab. She unlocked and opened the door, then flipped a switch. Welcoming light illuminated the compact interior. Joe set Davy down over the threshold, released him from his woolen cocoon and tossed the Navajo throw over his own shoulder.

The boy looked around. “Where’s Skooter?”

Meg remained outside but leaned in to point. “On top of the counter. Introduce yourself. We’ll feed him in a minute.”

Permission didn’t have to be offered twice. Davy abandoned Bear to scramble up on a built-in, upholstered seat for a closer look at the contents of the round fishbowl.

“Wow. He is blue!”

Meg turned a bright smile on Joe, and a curious tightness wrapped around his chest. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice.

“Thanks for bailing me out back there. You know, with the f-i-s-h ploy?”

“No problem. I could tell you weren’t comfortable with the sleepover idea. I shouldn’t have agreed to it without your okay, but I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

“Believe me, I can sure relate to that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But please don’t take my reluctance personally. It’s just that Davy and I—”

Meg held up a palm. “No need to explain. But if you do ever want to let him come for a sleepover, I’m fine with it. Experienced with nieces and a nephew.”

“Battle-hardened?”

“You could say that.” Her gaze lingered. “I’ll bring Davy home in—what?—an hour?”

Joe took a step back and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “An hour’s good. But I’ll come get him. You don’t need to be out by yourself in the dark.”

“Dad. Look at me.” Davy waved from where he kneeled on the seat, his forearms on the counter by the fishbowl. “Isn’t this RV cool?”

“Like a pirate ship’s cabin.”

“Yeah. A pirate ship.” Smiling, the boy turned again to the colorful aquatic creature as it whipped around the bowl in apparent delight at having company.

Meg lifted the hamper into the RV, then stepped up inside. “Guess we’ll see you in a bit.”