Shooting the Moon

Brandon chose to play an eight of clubs, which was probably a mistake. Lauren’s last card of that suit was the ten, and all the face cards were out. She’d have to take the pile and any hearts Scott tossed into it, which meant Brandon wouldn’t be able to capture all the points.

Sure enough, when his friend piled a heart on top of her ten, Brandon groaned. “Oh, man. I was so close. Look at this.” He fanned out the cards he’d already taken. “I’ve got the queen of spades and nine of the thirteen hearts. I was only missing four.”

“You did great, babe,” Lauren told him. “It’s tough to shoot the moon. You have to be holding a lot of good cards and play them just right.”

“And if you don’t make it, you’re in major trouble,” Scott pointed out.

Brandon scowled at him. “But if you do make it, you’re the bomb. I would’ve won for sure.”

“You’ll have other chances,” Lauren promised.

“Does that mean we can play another game?” he asked.

“Not now. Scott’s mother is expecting him at home, you have to do your homework, and I have to start dinner.”

“Aw, can’t we go out for dinner tonight?”

“No, I’ve already defrosted a couple of steaks. I thought we could grill them outside on the patio.” She’d also made homemade rolls, scalloped potatoes, a candied almond salad and Brandon’s favorite dessert—cheesecake. Keeping herself busy with domestic tasks had helped her avoid thinking about Harley Nelson. But the time for his arrival was fast approaching and she couldn’t put off dealing with the situation any longer.

“Why don’t you go ahead and walk Scott across the street while I start the barbecue?” she said.

Taking her suggestion, Brandon followed his friend to the front of the house. As soon as Lauren heard the door slam, she took Harley’s card from her pocket, wiped sweaty palms on her blue jeans and dialed his number.

I’m only doing what’s best, she told herself. But if that was true, why did she feel so terrible about it?

Someone answered, but it wasn’t Harley. It was a woman.

Lauren drew a bolstering breath. He’s no good. He probably goes from one relationship to another, breaking hearts along the way, and this is just the next person in line. “Is Harley Nelson there?”

“I’m afraid not, but I’d sure like to reach him. This is Angela at Hudson & Taylor’s. He was shopping here earlier. When he paid for his purchases, he left his cell phone on the counter.”

Evidently she’d been wrong, in this instance, anyway. But that didn’t make her feel any better. She couldn’t reach him, and he was supposed to appear at her door in—she cast another nervous glance at her watch—an hour.

“Do you know his home number?” the woman asked.

“I have the number where he’s staying,” she said, grateful for whatever had prompted Harley to give it to her. “Hang on a second.”

Taking the cordless phone, she went to her bedroom and found the slip of paper Harley had handed her just before she left the restaurant. She rattled off the number, then hung up and dialed it herself, far more eager to talk to Harley now that the possibility of being unable to reach him seemed all too likely.

“’Lo?”

“Harley?”

“No, it’s Tank. Who’s this?”

“Lauren Worthington. I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to date your brother Damien.”

“’Course I remember you. We went to high school together.”

Part of the rowdy crowd, Tank had been popular, but Lauren had never really spoken to him until two years ago, when Damien had taken her to a family birthday party. “I’m looking for Harley Nelson,” she said, fidgeting nervously. “It’s important that I talk to him. Is he around?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him all day. But if he’s late or somethin’, don’t give up on him. I know he wouldn’t miss dinner at your place.”

“That’s just it,” Lauren said. “He’s planning to see Brandon, but I…um…I forgot that Brandon won’t be here. He’s got…” Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an event important enough to justify canceling, but nothing presented itself. “…something he can’t miss,” she finished lamely.

Tank hesitated as though trying to decide whether or not to believe her, and she fought the temptation to prop up the lie with more senseless babble.

“That’s too bad,” he said. “I know Harley will be disappointed.”

“Yeah…um…so will Brandon.” Except that he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Closing her eyes, Lauren briefly remembered a conversation she’d had with Brandon just a few months ago.

I hope I’ll be tall like my dad.

How do you know your dad was tall?

My mom used to talk about him.

What did she say?

That he was the cutest boy in school.

He was certainly handsome. She’d winked at him. But you’re going to be even better-looking.

He’d smiled, but seemed to sink into a rather somber mood almost immediately after. Grandfather doesn’t think I look anything like my dad.

Lauren had almost admitted that Quentin Worthington probably didn’t see any resemblance between father and son because he didn’t want to. But getting caught up in a conversation that would only disparage Harley wouldn’t do Brandon any good. Her father had told him enough negative things about Harley already.

Grandfather didn’t see as much of Harley as your mother and I did. Maybe he doesn’t remember.

That’s not it, Brandon had surprised her by saying. I think he’s afraid I’ll turn out just like him.

From the mouths of babes….

“I’ll give him the message you called,” Tank said.

Lauren massaged her temple. “Okay. And let him know he left his cell phone at Hudson & Taylor’s, will you? A woman by the name of Angela has it.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Lauren?”

“Yeah?”

“Harley’s…well, he’s—ah, shit, never mind. It’s none of my business. I’ll let you go.”

“What?” she prompted. Had Harley said something about her? About Brandon? About his plans?

Tank seemed to struggle with the words. “If it doesn’t work out for Harley to see Brandon tonight, I hope you’ll consider letting him come over another time. He’s pretty excited about meeting his boy.”

This, Lauren didn’t want to hear. She couldn’t think of Harley’s feelings. She already had her own heart and her parents and Brandon to consider. Even Audra’s memory seemed to be pulling at her. Lauren just couldn’t tell which direction her sister would want her to go. After her relationship with Harley, Audra had grown very bitter and blamed their father for most of her mistakes. If she were alive, would she be in Harley’s camp? If so, why hadn’t she ever contacted him?

Ignoring the melancholy that threatened whenever she thought of Audra, Lauren said, “I’ll keep that in mind,” but she warned herself to forget about it instead.

“Who was that?” Brandon asked, toting his backpack into the kitchen as she hung up the phone.

Lauren whirled at the sound of his voice. She’d been so wrapped up in her conversation with Tank that she hadn’t heard him come in. “No one you know, sweetie.”

“Did Grandma and Grandpa call today?”

“I talked to them this morning.”

“When are they coming home?”

“Not until the middle of June, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Delving into his backpack, Brandon began to spread his books on the table. “I have tons of homework,” he complained. “I don’t know why Mrs. Cooper had to give us so much today. Fourth grade isn’t supposed to be so hard.”

“It’s good for you,” Lauren replied automatically. Brandon was enrolled in one of the best private schools in the state and usually had quite a bit of homework. But Lauren’s thoughts weren’t on his education. She was wondering what she’d do if Harley didn’t go back to Tank’s—if he didn’t get her message. She certainly couldn’t stay here and hope to turn him away at the door.

“Come on,” she said suddenly. “Pack your stuff and bring it with you. We’re going to Kimberly’s.”

“What?” Brandon paused in mid-motion. “I thought you were making dinner.”

“We’ll take it with us and finish it there.”

He gave her a mystified look. “You’re acting weird, Aunt Lauren, you know that?”

“Just because I want to go to Kimberly’s? We go there all the time.”

“But we don’t carry our dinner over there.”

“It’ll be fun.” Hopping off the stool at the desk, she hurried to the large walk-in pantry to get the picnic basket.

“Do I have to spend the night again?” he asked.

“Don’t you like staying with Kimberly?” She found the picnic basket easily enough and hauled it out to the kitchen, where she started gathering their meal so they could leave as soon as possible.

“I guess,” he said. “But I’d rather stay home. It’s a school night, remember?”

“Isn’t that my line?” She forced a smile, hoping he’d cooperate without her having to push. She hated to make him go to Kimberly’s if he didn’t want to, but he had to go somewhere, and Kimberly’s place was safe. “We can make an exception every once in a while, you know,” she added, getting the salad from the refrigerator.

Instead of packing up, he sank into his seat and started flipping his pencil against the table. Tap, tap, tap, tap…

“Then can I go to Scott’s instead?”

“Not tonight.”

Tap, tap, tap… “Why?”

“Because Kimberly’s dog really likes it when you come to visit,” she said, searching for the plastic lid that would seal the bowl containing the steaks and marinade.

“I have to go to Kimberly’s because her dog likes me?” he asked with a grimace. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

Too nervous to tolerate the noise, Lauren wanted to grab the pencil out of Brandon’s hand. They needed to get out of the house quickly. What if Harley arrived early?

“Just get moving, okay?” she said, keeping her voice calm only with great effort. Brandon had some legitimate points—she was acting strange, spending the night on a weekday did break house rules, and they didn’t generally pack up their dinner at the last minute and flee from home. But she couldn’t explain her reasons, and she didn’t have time to argue with him. She was the adult. He was the child. She needed him to obey, and fast.

Finding the lid, she covered the bowl and forced it inside the already crowded basket, then turned her attention to wrapping the rolls in plastic.

Tap…tap…tap… “But I don’t see why Scott’s house isn’t just as good,” he persisted, slouching lower in his seat. “I mean, it’s across the street. You wouldn’t even have to come get me for school.”

“Just get your things, dammit!” she snapped.

The tapping stopped, and he jumped to his feet and began to fill his backpack, but she could tell from the expression on his face that he was surprised—and probably a little hurt. “What did I do?” he asked. “Why are you mad at me?”

Lauren gave up trying to close the overloaded basket. He didn’t know she was only trying to do what was best for him, that she was worried and on edge. He was just being a kid. “I’m sorry, Brandon,” she said, crossing the room and hugging him. “I’m just a little uptight right now and I need you to cooperate with me. Okay, honey?”

The confusion on his face didn’t clear completely, but he nodded. “Okay.”

“Everything will be fine,” she promised, resting her chin on the top of his head. “I just…I just need you to stay with Kimberly for a few days while I take care of some things. Then our lives will be normal again.” God willing.

“I miss Grandma and Grandpa,” he said.

“They’ll be home before you know it.” She kissed his cheek and started to pull away, then stopped when he said something so softly she missed it.

“What, honey?”

“I said my mom won’t. She’s never coming home again.”

It was almost the first time he’d mentioned his mother since the day she died. Lauren had tried to get him to open up and let the pain out, but he wouldn’t. He’d stood dry-faced and resolute throughout the viewing and funeral, ignored anyone who wanted to remember her or sympathize, and had kept up that indifferent facade ever since. Still, Lauren knew that despite Audra’s faults and shortcomings, Brandon had loved her with the kind of unconditional emotion so natural to children.

“It’s not easy when someone you care about dies,” she said.

“I don’t care about her,” he insisted, but there was a tremble to his lip that belied the harshness of his words. “She never wanted to be with me, anyway.”

The knots of anxiety in Lauren’s stomach grew painful. They had to go before Harley arrived. But this was the first chance she’d had to reach Brandon, to soothe him where his mother was concerned. If she brushed the opportunity away and hurried off, she was afraid he’d retreat behind the wall he’d built and never come out again.

“It’s okay to be angry, Brandon,” she said. “Your mother wasn’t perfect. She made many mistakes. But I know she loved you.”

“If she loved me, she wouldn’t have done what she did.”

“Look at me.” Lauren tried to raise his chin so she could see his eyes, but he wouldn’t allow it. He was staring at the hardwood floor, blinking swiftly to hold back tears—tears Lauren wished he’d let fall. Go ahead, Brandon. Let the poison out so you can heal.

“Your mother was just confused,” she said.

“She didn’t want me. She never did anything with me.”

Lauren pulled him closer so he wouldn’t have to worry about her seeing the tears swimming in his eyes, and rubbed a hand up and down his spine. “That’s not completely true. I remember you going in to lie down with her at night sometimes. The two of you would talk about all kinds of things.”

“That was only when she came out of rehab and was clean for a while. And it never lasted long.”

Rehab. Clean. Most nine-year-olds didn’t even know those terms—and Brandon was using them to describe his mother. It always saddened Lauren to hear him.

“I know,” she admitted. There wasn’t any point in trying to deny the fact that his mother had let him down. It would only make him feel guilty for what he was feeling when he had every right to be disappointed. He’d been cheated, and Audra’s death was probably her ultimate betrayal.

“I can’t explain why your mother did what she did,” she said. “I know she was basically a good person, Brandon. She was just so unhappy. She couldn’t find her way out of it, and nothing we did seemed to help. Maybe if I’d had more patience with her or tried harder to reach her as a friend…I don’t know.”

“What happened to my mom isn’t your fault,” he said. “It’s my dad’s fault.”

Lauren knew Brandon was only repeating what he’d picked up from his grandfather. But for the first time she considered what it meant to let Brandon believe what he did. Perhaps if she hadn’t seen Harley again, if he’d remained nothing more than a memory, she might have let the statement pass. Heaven knew she’d spent the last ten years more or less believing the same thing. But now Harley was a real person, a flesh-and-blood man, and he seemed a lot less like the bad guy her father’s words and her own imagination had painted him.

“No one is completely responsible for the decisions and actions of another, Brandon. We all meet people who influence us, but the decisions we make are our own. If we mess up our lives, it’s our fault, no one else’s.”

“But Grandpa said my dad broke my mother’s heart.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she murmured, and then, even though family loyalty warred with what she now considered the underlying truth, she added, “Grandfather blames Harley because it’s easier to blame him than your mother. He loves your mom; he doesn’t love Harley. But your mother could have chosen a different path than the one she took. She had a lot more going for her than Harley did. She had a family who loved her. She had plenty of food, clothing and other necessities. She had the best counseling money could buy. I’m sure I could’ve done more to help her, but Grandpa tried everything. She just wouldn’t grab on to the hands reaching out to her.”

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