they’d found in a closet upstairs and stared up at the blankets arching over his head. He wished he were at home. He wished his dad would hurry.
He held up the bird Hope had given him, then lowered it real close to his eyes. Light from the living room filtered in through the blankets and if he squinted really hard, he could see it through the hummingbird. He thought about Hope, and about her drawing pictures with him even when his dad wasn’t around. She’d given him a present, too. And she hadn’t brought it to his house just so she could see his dad. Not like those other girls.
Maybe Hope was like Shelly. Shelly wasn’t like the others. She didn’t come over and pretend she liked Adam so she could talk to his dad.
He rolled onto his side and shoved the little bird into his shorts pocket. Maybe he’d find Hope a cool rock. He liked it when she took pictures of him and Wally, and he liked those blue boots she wore sometimes. She’d built the tent out of blankets, and she was funny when she ran from bats. He liked the way her hair shone.
Like an angel. Like his mom. Adam knew his mother wasn’t a
Adam tried to keep his eyes open, but the left one kept shutting. He thought maybe he’d close them both for just a few minutes, give them a rest before his dad came.
He knew his mom was an actress and that was her job. He knew some of the stuff she did wasn’t for real, like she couldn’t fly and she couldn’t come into the room and be invisible if she wanted. But he figured some of the stuff she did on her show had to be real, and he wished he could meet those kids she’d saved when their house caught fire last week. She’d saved their cat, too. And his mom knew Santa Claus. She’d saved Santa when he’d drunk too much and got hit by a bus. She’d told him that he had to live for all the kids in the world who loved him, and Adam wished he could go to the North Pole and meet Santa. He and Wally had talked about that. Since his mom had saved Santa, for Christmas Adam would ask for something big, like the go-cart his dad said he couldn’t have until he turned ten.
Adam yawned and shoved his hand beneath his cheek. He wished his mom could come live with him and his dad. Maybe if he were really good and wanted it really a lot, she would.
Dylan knocked on Hope’s door and waited for her to answer. It was half past eleven, and he’d left the hospital as soon as the twins arrived, leaving them to take care of their father as much as their mother. Dylan had never seen Paul so upset. He’d never seen him so emotional before, but when they’d wheeled Shelly away, her husband had started bawling. Paul blamed himself and was acting as if he’d plunged the knife in her heart. He’d said he just couldn’t stand to see her hurt.
Sure, Shelly’s cut was bad, but it was nowhere near life-threatening. As he’d sat with his friend, instead of being repulsed by Paul’s blubbering, he found himself a bit jealous instead. He’d never loved a woman like that. Not the kind that could make him cry like a girl, especially after nineteen years of marriage. He wondered why he’d never found a woman he could love that much. He wondered if he ever would.
Now, lust. Lust was different. He’d had a real luston since the morning MZBHAVN had pulled into town. And during the drive home, he’d thought of little else but standing in Shelly’s kitchen, studying the soft skin of Hope’s hand and the lines on her palm. And during that long drive from Sun Valley, he’d thought about the night he’d brought her home from the Buckhorn, too. He remembered the way she’d touched him, and like watching a movie stuck in slow motion, he recalled every detail. The moist texture of her mouth, the caress of her hands sliding down his chest, the heavy ache between his legs.
The front door swung open and there she stood before him, backlit by the chandelier in the entry. After so many hours with Wally and Adam, he expected Hope to resemble a crazed Medusa. She didn’t. Her hair was down and a little messy, but she looked warm and drowsy, like she’d just gotten out of bed.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
“No, I was lying down on the couch watching the end of Leno.” She stepped back and he entered the house.
She smelled all warm and drowsy, too, he thought. “The boys give you trouble?”
“They’re asleep.” She led him to the living room, and he let his gaze travel from the top of her hair, down her straight back, over the nice curve of her behind, to the backs of her smooth thighs. Her feet were bare. “We found some sleeping bags and kind of camped out.”
The tent made out of blankets shocked him. He supposed he would have been less surprised if they’d constructed a beauty parlor.
“They played haunted house upstairs for a while, and then when they got bored with that, we told scary stories down here.”
He moved his gaze from the tent to Hope. “They weren’t too much for you?”
“Well, they did wrestle almost constantly. Everything they picked up turned into some sort of sword or knife or gun, and the pulling-finger thing was a bit disturbing.” She cocked her head and looked up at him through the corners of her eyes. “I only thought about hitting the sauce once or twice.”
His attention was drawn to her smile, to her pink lips, and he wondered if she’d taste all sleepy, too. If she’d taste all warm and willing, as if he’d just woken her in the middle of the night to make love.
“Adam’s a nice little guy. You’re lucky to have him.” She brushed her hair behind her ears. “How’s Shelly?”
He opened his mouth to ask “Who?” but caught himself. Pushing aside the opening in the tent, he looked in on Wally and Adam. “She cut herself pretty bad. The doctors had to repair some tendons, but she’ll be okay. She should be home by morning.” The boys lay on top of more blankets and sleeping bags and were curled up like hibernating bears.
“That’s good news, I guess.”
“I think she’s doing better than Paul. He was carrying on like he’d killed her.” Dylan dropped the edge of the blanket and looked over at Hope. “I wasn’t around when Shelly had her boys, but she said that Paul was pacing and crying when they were born, too.”
“Didn’t you pace and cry when your wife had Adam?”
He didn’t correct her about Julie not being his wife.
“I didn’t have time. I barely got Julie to the hospital before he was born.”
“Short labor?”
“Long drive. We were visiting her father.” He moved toward her and glanced at the drawings on the coffee table. “Adam was born in the hospital there.”
“Adam mentioned her tonight.”
Dylan glanced up. “Julie? What did he say?”
“Just that she lives in California and has blond hair that used to be brown.”
It was definitely time to change the subject. “You all recovered from your encounter with Rocky Mountain oysters?”
“I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What your ex-wife does for a living.”
He looked her right in the eye and lied, “She’s a waitress.”
“Oh.” A wrinkle appeared between Hope’s brows as she sat on the arm of the couch.
“Now tell me if you’re recovered from the oysters.”
“Barely. If someone had told me that there were people who actually ate those things, I wouldn’t have believed them. It’s just too bizarre.”
At least when she talked about it now, she wasn’t screeching and pale and looking like she was about to vomit. In fact, a smile threatened the corners of her lips. Dylan liked her smile. He liked the sound of her laughter, too, feminine and sort of breathy. He liked it so much, he opened his mouth and told her the second biggest secret he knew. The secret so embarrassing
