Cathy Thacker - Tangled Web

Abruptly Joey looked as emotionally wiped out as she felt. “Can I go up to my room now, Mom? I want to lie down.”

Hope shot a concerned glance at her son. It wasn’t like him to want to take a nap, even after practice. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she pressed.

Joey rolled his eyes. “Yes!” He shot a worshipful look at his half brother. “Thanks, Chase. For fixing me up and talking to my mom. You know, calming her down and stuff,” Joey said shyly.

Chase held Joey’s eyes and touched his shoulder with fraternal affection. “Take care of that eye now, you hear?”

“I will,” Joey promised as he moved up the stairs.

Watching him go, Hope was struck by how young he looked. Only when he’d disappeared did Chase let go of her hand. And though she’d resented the way he had physically taken control of her and the situation, Hope found her hand now felt oddly naked and vulnerable without the warm cover of his.

Telling herself she couldn’t let Chase affect her this way, especially now that he was staying there, Hope turned her mind back to Joey’s troubles. “I’m still calling that coach,” she muttered.

“Do so,” Chase warned with a daunting raise of his brow, “and that son of yours will never forgive you.”

She looked at him in surprise, shocked not only by the quiet vehemence in his voice, but by his unaccustomed willingness to inject himself so fully into her and Joey’s lives. The Chase she had known in the past had always watched family dramas from a distance, never risking personal involvement. Was it possible he had changed or matured? Or was this shift due to Edmond’s death and to Chase’s own decision to assume more responsibility for the Barrister family and business, as a whole? She had no chance to ask; Chase was already heading for the front door.

“I assume Little League still practices at the park down the street?” he asked a trifle impatiently.

Hope stared after him, her feelings in turmoil. “Yes, they do.” Her voice sounded as dry and parched as her throat felt.

“I’ll run over and see if I can find Joey’s glasses. Or what’s left of them. And Hope,” he reiterated, turning to give her a meaningful look, “I meant what I said. Don’t do anything until you’ve had a chance to calm down.” His face looked tanned and healthy in the dwindling sunlight; he fastened his hazel eyes on hers and she knew in that one fleeting instant of visual contact that she had more than met her match. He turned and left.

Hope stared after him, bewildered and confused by his actions and yet oddly and perhaps inappropriately drawn to him all the same. When had he started caring what happened to her or her son? she wondered. And why was just the notion of that as disconcerting as the warm, insistent touch of his hand?

Short moments later, Hope found Joey curled up on his bed, his baseball mitt and trading cards beside him, the ice pack pressed against his bruised eye. He was watching a college baseball game on ESPN, and although he seemed focused on the pitcher, she knew his mind was still on the scene downstairs. Feeling worse than ever about what had happened and the overly emotional way she had handled it, she sat down beside him and gently touched his shoulder.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” she said softly. She knew she had overreacted but he was so small and so physically vulnerable. The idea of the Bateman twins picking on him deliberately made her blood boil. That she had dealt with Chase, Rosemary, and Russell Morris that day had contributed to her losing her composure. And that wasn’t fair to Joey. “You really shouldn’t have to quit the team because those twins picked a fight with you.”

Joey reached for his inhaler. “I really like playing Little League, Mom.”

“I know.” And he liked having Chase around, too. Seeing how well the two of them got on was a surprise to her. Joey worshiped Chase; Chase liked the unchecked adoration. And she hadn’t expected that she would like having Chase there, too, at least for a brief while. Even though they had disagreed on how to handle Joey, he had exerted a calming, male influence that had been missing in their lives. Hope was acutely aware of how much Joey missed Edmond, especially at times like this. Having Chase there had closed that void with remarkable ease. She knew, for that reason alone, she would be as sorry as her son to see him go. But there were other aspects of Chase’s presence that she didn’t like nearly as much: the probing way he looked at her, his almost overwhelming maleness, and the sexuality and health he exuded. The bottom line was she was never more acutely aware of her womanliness than when she was around him. And those were feelings she didn’t want. Not now. Not when she was a widow, and Chase was Edmond’s son.

Joey’s brow furrowed. “If you yell at the coach, then he might want me to quit. I know the other kids would. And then the twins will get mad, too, and they’ll just be meaner than ever—” His shoulders slumped in despair.

“They shouldn’t be mean at all.” Hope massaged his shoulder gently.

“I know but they are.” Joey exhaled loudly, as if exasperated with her lack of understanding about something he considered obvious. “Ain’t nothing going to change that, Mom.”

“There isn’t anything that will change that.” Hope corrected his grammar absently.

Joey shrugged, and drew on his inhaler again. She watched with relief as he began to breathe a little easier. He lowered the ice pack. His eye didn’t look any better, but it didn’t look any worse, either. His scratches and scrapes were all tended and neatly bandaged. And with the help of the inhaler, his breathing was still satisfactory. All was okay for the moment, she reassured herself firmly. “Can I get you some dinner?” she urged gently. “No? How about a glass of Gatorade?”

He perked up a bit at her suggestion. “Do we have the orange kind?”

“I’m sure we do. Want me to bring some up?”

Joey nodded, probably grateful he didn’t have to go down and get it himself, as was usually the case. Hope didn’t allow Carmelita to wait on Joey hand and foot; she didn’t want him thinking he was “above all that,” just because his family had money. She didn’t want him turning into a little jerk; rather to have the same sensible, matter-of-fact upbringing Chase had had. “Is it okay if I eat later?” Joey asked.

Hope touched his uninjured brow soothingly. “Sure, you can even have a tray in your room if you like.” He had been a trooper, she realized. Edmond would have been as proud of him as Chase had been. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling unaccustomed tears well up. On days like this, Joey wasn’t the only one who missed Edmond. It was hard to raise a child alone. There were times, like now, when she needed a strong shoulder to lean on, too.

Oblivious to the rush of loneliness she felt, Joey put the ice pack back on his eye, wincing slightly as it touched his tender skin. Looking more exhausted than ever, he yawned and closed his eyes. “Okay. Just don’t call the coach,” he warned once again.

“I won’t,” Hope promised. She qualified her statement honestly, “This time. But if it happens again—”

“I know,” Joey said. He opened his eyes and finished her sentence for her in a resigned tone that let her know how unacceptable having only a mother could be. “You’ll have no choice.”

CHASE FOUND JOEY’S glasses in the grass. Although covered with dirty smudges, the lenses and frame were unbroken, but the safety strap that held his sports glasses on had been ripped and would need to be replaced. Obviously, he thought, it had been quite a scuffle, and unless he missed his guess, Joey had done his fair share of swinging and shoving. He probably felt he had something to prove—because of his size, because of his asthma.