Pamela Hearon - My Way Back to You

“You look happy we’re almost done.” Mags shot him a grin as she unrolled a circular rug in the center of the room.

“I am that,” Jeff agreed. “I was also thinking about the learning curve our son will have to go through beginning tonight.”

“Yeah.” Her chuckle had a wicked edge that brought him to life again despite his fatigue. “He thinks it’s going to be like summer camp. He doesn’t realize how hard it can be to live with someone day in, day out...” She glanced away as her voice trailed off. “The room looks good, though.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she made a slow, tight circle, inspecting the afternoon’s progress. “Never thought we could make it look like this considering how it was when we started.”

Her tired eyes met his, and for a moment he thought she was going to say something else, but her gaze darted to the top bunk. “But that ghastly sleeping bag is a travesty when there were all those cute sheet sets to choose from.”

“This is easy to make up. No fuss. And just as easy to wash.” Jeff captured her gaze again and returned her tired smile. “And he couldn’t care less if his bedding is cute.”

Just then, Russ bounded into the room. “Look what I just scored out of the garbage!” He held up a leg lamp of The Christmas Story variety, except in miniature, tabletop size. “Gort says it works and everything.”

“Ick.” Maggie’s mouth creased sharply downward.

“Ah, c’mon, Mom.” Russ rubbed his hand delicately down the leg. “It’s a conversation piece.”

“Like conversation is something you need more of?”

“She has a point.” Jeff eyed the strange object that had his son captivated. “If it works, why would he throw it away?”

Russ shrugged. “Girlfriend gave it to him. Then she broke up with him yesterday, so he says he doesn’t want the reminder.” He set it on the desk and plugged it in. A flip of the switch and the fishnet-covered leg glowed dimly. “ Fra-gee-lee! That is rich!” A couple of posters he hadn’t decided on yet lay rolled up on the desk. He grabbed them and tossed them onto the top shelf of the closet. “Oh, yeah. Hey, Matt was down at the garbage, too, so I asked if he and Spike would like to have pizza with us tonight. Hope that’s okay. I figured we owed them for all their help. They’re meeting us at the hotel.”

Jeff grimaced, but neither Maggie nor Russ noticed his displeasure. They both seemed fine with the idea of more time with Thor and Company.

“Besides, Mom.” Russ swung around and caught Maggie playfully around the neck—standing a full head taller than she—and gave her a soft nuggie . “Matt says his dad thinks you’re hot.”

“Damn it.” Jeff swore under his breath.

“I am hot...and sweaty.” Maggie’s swift poke at the ticklish spot in Russ’s ribs efficiently broke his hold. She stepped away and wrinkled her nose. “He’s pretty basic.”

Jeff wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a compliment so it gave him a reason to chuckle.

“Go easy on him, Mom.” A movement in the hallway caught Russ’s attention. “Hey, Steeger,” he yelled, and bolted that direction.

Mags watched him and then turned to Jeff, eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen him so hyper. It’s like he’s five again.”

“Basic?” he asked.

“Tries too hard...easy to see through.”

“Ah.” Jeff tossed his wrench back into the tool bag Spike had provided. “So you prefer the guy who plays it cool.”

She gathered up the stack of towels she’d folded and started toward the bathroom. “I prefer no guy at all.”

The heaviness in his chest became apparent again. “Mags—” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—only knew he needed to say something, but Russ bounded back into the room.

“Can we go eat now? I’m going to gnaw on that leg lamp if I don’t get some food pretty soon.”

Maggie handed over her armload to him. “I can’t go eat like this.” She pointed at her top, which sported a dirty tread mark from where she’d moved an armload of sneakers. “And neither can you, Russ. Go shower. Now. You can make it a quick one.” She picked up one of the boxes that needed to go back to the car.

“I’ll get that, Mags. It’s too heavy for you.”

Jeff reached for it, but she held on and rocked back on her heels. “I’ve got it. Russ can get the big one after he showers, and you can bring the other small one. I’ll have the car by the front door in ten minutes. And don’t forget Spike’s tools.” She disappeared into the crowded hallway.

“Spike has her thinking all the rest of us are wusses,” Russ grumbled as he headed for the bathroom.

“ Humph. I was thinking the same thing,” Jeff answered, though too low for his son to hear. The bathroom door closed and he finished what was on his tongue. “I wonder which ranks lower in her estimation—a wuss or a basic?”

* * *

DID CHICAGO HAVE a downtown salon that stayed open late? Maggie glanced down Rush Street. With all the testosterone she’d been exposed to over the past three hours, her upper lip probably could stand a good waxing.

“So I see the puck headed right toward us.” Spike was in the middle of one of his many tales of heroic deeds. “And I throw myself in front of her and catch the damn thing in the back, right below my shoulder blade. Luckily, with all the layers I had on, it didn’t break anything. But I ended up with a bruise this big.” He held his hands out and cupped them to form a circle the size of a salad plate. “The doc said if I was an average-size guy, like you—” he gave a curt nod in Jeff’s direction as they walked “—it might’ve paralyzed me...or worse, if it had hit my temple.”

A hit to the mouth might not have done too much damage. Maggie kept her thought to herself.

“Oh, hell, Grainger.” Jeff pointed his arm in silent direction to make the turn onto Walton. “If the damn puck had hit you in the head, it would’ve ricocheted off.” The tightness in his jaw told Maggie he’d said it only half in jest, but Spike guffawed.

“Good one, man.”

She felt certain her presence—walking between the two men—was the only thing that saved Jeff from a hearty pounding on the back.

“I’m glad we decided to walk.” She changed the subject, trying to move the two fellows beyond the juvenile pissing match they’d fallen into somewhere around the time the salad had arrived. “Giordano’s has to be the best pizza I’ve ever had, but—”

“You think Giordano’s is good?” Spike’s mouth was moving again. “You ought to taste the pizza at this little tavern down the street from where I live. They have this one that’s loaded with all kinds of meats and cheeses...”

Maggie allowed her mind to race a half block ahead to the stoplight. And the lovely sign atop The Drake that screamed Freedom !

She glanced at her watch. They’d put the boys in a taxi back to their dorm right after they left the restaurant. Since traffic was light, Russ might be back at his place already.

Tomorrow wouldn’t be quite so busy, thankfully. Hot dogs and burgers at 11:30, followed by a four-man golf scramble. And in the evening they’d have a light family dinner sponsored by the team. Then she’d say goodbye to her precious boy-child until his first trip home, which wouldn’t come until Thanksgiving. Her eyes blurred, and she blinked away the tears.

“—carriage ride, Maggie?” Spike was pointing to the horse-drawn carriage stopped at the corner they were about to cross.

She rewound his question in her head. He was asking if she wanted to go on a carriage ride. And, while the idea was appealing, she couldn’t bear to stay in Spike’s company any longer than she had to. “It sounds lovely,” she answered. “But I don’t think I’m up for it. Thanks, though.”