Laura Altom - Marrying the Marshal

“It is. Guess I’m not all that hungry, either.”

“I am.” He helped himself to thirds on meat loaf and mashed potatoes, carefully steering clear of the steamed broccoli along the way.

“That’s good,” she said, not in the mood to lecture Cal about vegetables.

“Man,” he said, mouth half-full of potatoes. “This was the crappiest day ever. At least Sam told everyone I have bodyguards. Wish that Caleb guy could’ve stayed here with me, but he said he had to hang out with you. Bet he was bored.”

If only!

“Yeah,” Allie said, sipping iced tea. “It was a pretty dull day.” Nothing but a few blood-balloons whizzing through her court.

“Sorry. Wanna stay home with me in the morning? After I do my work, we can go see Power Force.” The dear look on his face was so sincere, so hopeful, she couldn’t help but smile. Then she happened to flash back to that afternoon, and how Caleb had worn the same concerned expression.

A pang ripped through her at the notion that no matter how hard she’d tried convincing herself that in her mind Cal’s father was dead, he wasn’t. He was alive and well and quite possibly lurking just outside the house.

“Oh, baby,” she said, grabbing her son’s small, sticky hand. “I would love to stay home with you, and then go to a movie, but I can’t—we can’t.”

“How come you look like you’re gonna cry again? You never have before.”

“I know. There’s just a lot going on that—”

“You’ll understand when you get older.” Caleb strolled into the kitchen. His choppy, dark hair was wet, as were the shoulders of his denim shirt. For the most part, his faded jeans were dry, kind of like her mouth once she’d finished eyeing the ridiculously gorgeous combo of his body and face. In his left hand dangled a plastic bag.

“It still rainin’ outside?” Cal asked.

His father nodded. His father.

“Sure is,” Caleb said. “Want to go outside and play?”

“Yeah!” Cal leaped from his seat. “Can I take my plastic boats?”

“Whoa,” Caleb said, rubbing the boy’s head. “Slow down, mister. That was a joke. It’s a nasty night.”

“It’s nice in here,” Cal said. “We’ve got meat loaf. Want some?”

“That depends. Is it Grandma Beatrice’s recipe?”

“Yeah,” Cal said. “How’d you know?”

Eyeing Allie, he shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Man,” Cal said, back in his seat. “You’re good. What’s in the bag?”

“This,” he said, pulling out a Hershey bar the size of Cal’s head.

“Cool!” Cal said. “Thanks! Can I eat it now? What else is in there?”

“You can eat part of it now,” Caleb said. “And only if it’s okay with your mom. As for what else is in there, that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Cal made a face.

Caleb returned the look.

“Can I eat it?” Cal asked Allie.

“Sure,” she said. “After dinner. You the new shift?” Allie asked Caleb.

“Nah. I went ahead and sent Bear out to the front porch, but I’m officially off for the night.”

Cal asked, “Then how come you aren’t at the new movie, Power Force? That’s where I’d be goin’ if I didn’t have to work.”

Caleb laughed, and the rich normalcy of his voice washed through Allie. “You work a lot?” he asked his boy.

“Yeah. Mom makes me take out the trash. I have to make my bed, too. And sometimes when I forget to take the trash, she yells at me and I get talked to about ’sponsibilities.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s hard. You ever take out the trash? And sometimes, if it’s raining, I even have to take out Miss Margaret’s trash.”

“Who’s that?” Caleb asked Allie.

“Next-door neighbor, and a good friend. Before all this mess with Francis, we used to hang out a lot at each other’s houses. I told her she’s still welcome to come over, but she says you all intimidate her.”

“Hmm…” The man Allie used to love rubbed his chin. A fine shadow of stubble had grown over the afternoon. Back in college, he’d sometimes shaved twice a day. And sometimes, when he’d chosen not to shave and they’d been messing around, he’d rubbed his rough cheeks on her neck or belly…. And she’d liked that feel. She’d wanted—

“You know,” he said to Cal. “I think maybe once or twice your mean old mom nagged me about taking out the trash. But then I wised up and took it out before she even had to ask.”

He shot a wink Allie’s direction, and her heart flip-flopped.

Cal wrinkled his nose. “That still sounds like too much work.” To his mom he asked, “Can I go watch TV and practice my knitting?”

“After you clear the table and put back the fridge stuff.”

“Aw, man.”

“Come on,” Caleb said, reaching across the table for the ketchup and butter, flooding Allie with his all-male scent. “I’ll help.”

In a few short minutes, the job was done, leaving Cal scampering off to the den for TV, leaving Allie alone with his no-longer-smiling dad.

“He’s good kid,” Caleb said, joining her at the table.

“Thanks. I think so.”

“But no way did I hear right in that he actually wants to practice knitting?”

“What’s wrong with knitting? It’s good for hand-eye coordination. Plus, if he ever gets a job in Alaska, he’ll be able to keep himself warm.”

Shaking his head, Caleb’s only response was a grunt.

After a few seconds spent folding a leftover paper napkin into a ship, he asked, “Cal get good grades?”

“As and Bs.”

“Any discipline problems?”

“Other than sass now and then, nothing serious.”

“What’d you tell him about me?”

The hardball question came from left field. It took a second to regain her composure. “I—I told him you died.”

Caleb cursed under his breath. Shook his head.

“Well?” she asked. “What was I supposed to say?”

He half smiled. “For being such a brilliant woman, you don’t have a clue.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allie asked.

“Think about it. If you couldn’t stomach being around me, how hard would it have been to at least share custody of our son? What did I ever do to make you pull something this cold? Christ. You know how much I wanted to be a dad one day….”

“One day,” she said. “Not your junior year of law school. Not with marshal training after that. Not with endless hours of chasing bad guys and playing shootout till all hours of the night.”

“So basically, you’re saying you told Cal I died as a favor? So I wouldn’t be bothered?”

“Right.”

“And you actually believe that?” He pushed his chair back, putting her further on edge by standing directly behind her, rubbing her shoulders. Powerfully kneading, the way he’d always done after she’d had a hard day. “See, I’m thinking the whole thing goes deeper. Back to a little girl who lost her cop father at an impressionable age.”

Despite his all-too-pleasurable strokes, Allie froze.

“Know what else I think?” he asked.

“Wh-what?”

“You didn’t do this out of some saintly desire to shelter your son—our son—from pain. You were protecting yourself. That little girl inside was afraid that just like your old man, I’d get shot in the line of duty.”

Brushing Caleb’s hands from her shoulders, she said, “I should do the dishes.”

“Leave ’em.”

“What do you want from me?” she asked when he wouldn’t let her up.

“Simple. When this trial mess is over, I want joint custody of my son.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” she said, angry enough now that she easily broke his grip to stand. “No matter what you think, Cal is mine. And I’m not good at sharing.”