“Hi, Mom. Hi, Cole.” He went casually to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. “Anything decent to drink around this place?”
“Water?” Robin suggested.
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Funny, Mom.”
“There are a few more sacks of groceries in the car. Would you get them for me?” He threw her a disgruntled look, until Robin added, “You’ll find a six-pack of soda in there.”
“Okay.” He raced out of the house and returned a minute later, carrying one sack and sorting through its contents as he walked into the kitchen.
“I’ll help you,” Cole said, placing his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. He glanced at Robin and his eyes told her they’d continue their discussion at a more opportune moment.
Robin started emptying the sacks, hardly paying attention as Jeff and Cole brought in the last couple of bags. Cole told her he’d pick her up at six, then left.
“Can I play with Blackie for a while?” Jeff asked her, a can of cold soda clenched in his hand.
“Sure,” Robin answered, grateful to have a few minutes alone.
Robin cleared the counters and made Jeff a sandwich for his lunch. He must’ve become involved in his game with Cole’s dog because he didn’t rush in announcing he was hungry.
She went outside to stand on her small front porch and smiled as she watched Jeff and Blackie. Her son really had a way with animals—like his father. Every time Robin saw him play with Cole’s Labrador, she marveled at how attuned they were to each other.
She smiled when she realized Cole was outside, too; he’d just finished watering his lawn.
“Jeff, I made a sandwich for you,” she called.
“In a minute. Hey, Mom, watch,” he yelled as he tossed a ball across the lawn. Blackie chased after it, skidding to a stop as he caught the bright red ball.
“Come on, Blackie,” Jeff urged. “Throw me the ball.”
“He can’t do that,” Robin said in astonishment.
“Sure, he can. Watch.”
And just as Jeff had claimed, Blackie leapt into the air, tossed his head and sent the ball shooting into the street.
“I’ll get it,” Jeff hollered.
It was Cole’s reaction that Robin noticed first. A horrified look came over his face and he threw down the hose. He was shouting even as he ran.
Like her son, Robin had been so caught up in Blackie’s antics that she hadn’t seen the car barreling down the street, directly in Jeff’s path.
Eight
“Jeff!” Robin screamed, fear and panic choking her. Her hands flew to her mouth in relief as Cole grabbed Jeff around the waist and swept him out of the path of the speeding car. Together they fell backward onto the wet grass. Robin ran over to them.
“Jeff, how many times have I told you to look before you run into the street? How many times?” Her voice was high and hysterical.
“I saw the car,” Jeff protested loudly. “I did! I was going to wait for it. Honest.” He struggled to his feet, looking insulted at what he obviously considered an overreaction.
“Get into the house,” Robin demanded, pointing furiously. She was trembling so badly she could barely speak.
Jeff brushed the grass from his jeans and raised his head to a dignified angle, then walked toward the house. Not understanding, Blackie followed him, the ball in his mouth, wanting to resume their play.
“I can’t, boy,” Jeff mumbled just loudly enough for her to hear. “My mother had some kind of anxiety attack that I’m gonna get punished for.”
Cole’s recovery was slower than Jeff’s. He sat up and rubbed a hand across his eyes. His face was ashen, his expression stark with terror.
“Everything’s all right. Jeff isn’t hurt,” Robin assured him. She slipped to her knees in front of him.
Cole nodded without looking at her. His eyes went blank and he shook his head, as if to clear his mind.
“Cole,” Robin said softly, “are you okay?”
“I...I don’t know.” He gave her a faint smile, but his eyes remained glazed and distant. He placed one hand over his heart and shook his head again. “For a minute there I thought Jeff hadn’t seen that car and...I don’t know... If that boy had been hurt...”
“Thank you for acting so quickly,” Robin whispered, gratitude filling her heart. She ran her hands down the sides of his face, needing to touch him, seeking a way to comfort him, although her heart ached at his words. So many times over the past few weeks, she’d suspected—and feared—that Cole’s feelings had more to do with replacing the family he’d lost than love for her and Jeff.
With a shudder, Cole locked his arms around her waist and pulled her close, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he dragged deep gulps of air into his lungs.
“Come inside and I’ll get us some coffee,” Robin suggested.
Cole murmured agreement, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to release her. Nor she him. Her hands were in his hair and she rested her cheek against his, savoring these moments of closeness now that the panic was gone.
“I lost my son,” Cole whispered and the words seemed to be wrenched from the deepest part of his soul. His voice held an agony only those who had suffered such a loss could understand. “In a car accident six years ago.”
Robin kissed the crown of his head. “I know.”
Cole broke away from her, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. Mingled with profound grief was confusion. “Who told you?”
“Joyce Wallach.”
Cole closed his eyes. “I could use that coffee.”
They both stood, and when Cole wrapped his arm around her waist Robin couldn’t be sure if it was to lend support or to offer it.
Inside the house, Jeff was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his knees under his chin. Ever loyal, Blackie lay beside him.
Jeff looked up when Robin opened the front door. “I saw the car,” he repeated. “You’re getting upset over nothing. I hope you realize that. Hey, what’s wrong with Cole?” he asked abruptly. He glanced from Robin to their neighbor and then back to his mother. “He looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
In some way, Robin supposed, he had.
“You all right, sport?” Cole asked. “I didn’t hurt you when we fell, did I?”
“Nah.” He bit his lip, eyes lowered.
Cole frowned. “You don’t sound all that certain. Are you sure you’re okay?”