My Twist of Fortune Page 3

  My day went from “meh” (the usual grind of getting five kids out the door), to fantastic (got to see Marla in a tight see-through cami), to annoying (picking up Chevelle from the nurse for the tenth time this month).

  As I stir the chili I prepared this morning and cover up the Crock-pot, Cade pulls up in my old beat-up truck. He drops his book bag on the table, grabs a Gatorade out of the fridge, and heads toward the pantry for a snack. It’s his usual routine, except instead of telling me what happened at football practice, he’s quiet.

  “How was practice?” I ask, breaking the layer of ice that’s fallen over the kitchen.

  He plops down in a chair and opens a container of Pringles. “At least they won’t have to change the lineup.” He puts a stack of chips in his mouth, chewing and downing them with a gulp of Gatorade.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jed Greene. His arm, Dad.” He shakes his head. “It’s good. I mean… I look mediocre compared to him.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He stops drinking and slams his drink down so hard, orange Gatorade spills onto the table. “I’m serious. By the end of practice, I was on the bench and Jed was throwing the passes. When Coach finally called me in, he put me at receiver.”

  “Well, receiver is a good position too. Remember when you said you wanted to play different positions? Maybe this is your chance.”

  “Not my senior year! I’m the captain of the team. I’m the one who brought this team up in the ranks since freshmen year.” He jabs his finger into his chest. “The position isn’t supposed to be stripped away from me my last year of play.”

  I run my hand over my forehead and drag it down my face. Laurie would handle this so much better than I’m about to. “Well, he is your cousin.”

  “Technically, second cousin.” Chevelle comes in with my phone in her hand. She places it next to me. “Aunt Marla says tonight is fine.”

  “Tonight for what?” Cade screeches and tosses his empty Gatorade container into the trash.

  Chevelle ignores her brother’s outrage and leaves the room.

  “Maybe basketball is more your sport,” I joke, but from the look on Cade’s face, he doesn’t find it funny. “I have to fix her water heater and Chevelle isn’t feeling well. Do you mind watching her?”

  “Again? You need to take her to see someone.” He stands.

  I’m thankful Chevelle left the room.

  “Everyone deals differently.” I open the fridge and take out the cheese and sour cream, then I spoon some chili into a bowl for him.

  “It’s been five years. She needs to talk to someone.” He grabs the cheese and dumps more than two handfuls into the bowl before sitting back down. “You do know my life is over, right? Maybe I should be the one in therapy.” He stirs his chili.

  I watch for a moment, wishing I could take away his adolescent problems. “We went over this when we found out they were coming. There’s more than enough room for two quarterbacks on the team.”

  He shakes his head and I wait for him to swallow his chili. “You know that’s not true. I mean, Jeff was a quarterback, you were a quarterback, and now Jed is coming in as a senior to take the spot. It’s not fair, Dad.”

  I slide out my chair and sit down in the one closer to him. When your kids lose a parent, especially as suddenly as they did, it’s hard not to want to put them in a bubble and promise that’s the worst thing that could happen in this life. And in comparison to losing your mom, not being the high school quarterback means nothing, but telling a seventeen-year-old that isn’t going to get my point across.

  “How about this weekend, we run some plays with you as receiver? I think you might like being the one who scores. And if Jed has the arm, maybe there’s more possibility for you guys to be an even better team this year.”

  He nods and leans back, his hands resting at the back of his head. Sometimes I look at Cade and think I’m looking at myself at his age. He’s been a mini-me since he was born. Unlike Fisher, who is all dark features like Laurie.

  “I’ll be back,” I say. “They have no hot water heater, and from the way you smell, I can’t imagine if Jed can’t shower.”

  “Let him stink. You should see all the girls fawning over him too.” Cade rolls his eyes.

  I smile at his jealous tone. “Every girl? I doubt Reese was.”

  “I caught her staring at lunch. She said she was looking for resemblances to me, but I know better. I broke up with her.”

  “Cade!”

  He shrugs. “She can date Jed if she thinks he’s so fucking hot.”

  “I doubt that was it. I’m sorry you think your world is ending because of Jed, but he is your cousin. You two share the same last name. You’ve got to get used to this.”

  “No.” He stands then pushes in his chair before grabbing his chili and walking into the family room.

  I hear Chevelle beg him to play a game with her. To my surprise, he agrees, and she squeals in delight. Standing, I push in my own chair. Laurie picked out this table, but it’s falling apart the bigger the boys get.

  I call upstairs, “Hey, Adam, do you want to go with me to install a hot water heater?”

  He runs down the stairs, always my eager helper. “Sure.”

  “Cade, you’re in charge.”

  I walk out the back door with my eleven-year-old son and start up my new truck, staring at my old truck with Cade’s football bag in the back. I understand how he feels. Hell, Jeff and I went round and round in high school too, but he was two years older than me. At least by the time I was a senior, I was the only Greene in Sunrise Bay High School.

  * * *

  I knock on the door of the McAlisters’. It’s quiet, but there’s a brand new truck in the driveway that wasn’t here this morning. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Marla isn’t alone. Not that I should care.

  “So I heard Xavier talking to Clara and I guess her mom said they can’t have any more sleepovers,” Adam says next to me.

  “Why?” I peek through the windows and don’t see anyone headed toward the door. I knock again.

  “You know, because they’re teenagers now. He’s a boy and she’s a girl, even if they are just friends. I think Clara’s mom is worried about… you know.”

  “Do you know?” I look down at him with wide eyes. One super thin silver lining that came from Laurie’s death is that I know my kids way better than I ever did before.

  “We had the talk last year, Dad.”

  Now, I can be out of it sometimes, but I know for sure I never had the talk with Adam. And if his brothers beat me to it… Lord help him. “No, we didn’t.”

  “Not you and me.” He signals with his finger between us. “Me and the school. You know, where they split up the boys and the girls and talk about the girl stuff and the boners.”

  The front door opens, and a little girl stands there looking up at us. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Hank and this is your second cousin, Adam.” I thumb toward him. “What’s your name?”

  “Wouldn’t you know that if we were related?” She slams the door and the lock clicks in place.

  I glance at Adam, who’s laughing. “She’s sort of right. Don’t you think it’s weird you don’t know her name? I mean, we do share blood, right?”

  “You don’t share blood, but you are related by blood.”

  “That’s what I meant,” he says.

  I knock again and Adam presses on the doorbell. I shoot him a glare and he shrugs.

  “The little girl isn’t gonna let you in, so we need to wait for an adult.”

  A shadow comes from the house and I hear some murmurs behind the door. As it flies open, all I hear is the little girl saying, “Stranger danger.”

  Marla looks from her daughter on the couch back at us. “I’m so sorry. Posey is really protective.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “Sorry about the delay earlier.”

  She’s dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Her hair is done
and she’s wearing makeup now. She’s more put-together and just as beautiful. “Believe me, I understand delays.”

  A set of headlights pulls up the driveway and she glances around us and sighs. Could she have a date? Or someone from high school visiting her?

  “Come on in,” she says, stepping back and waving us in.

  “Pizza!” A boy as tall as Cade, who I suspect must be Jed, slides down the stair rail. “I’m starving.”

  “Jed!” Marla scolds.

  He stops, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s listening to his mom or if he sees us. “Who are you?”

  “He’s supposedly our cousin or something,” Posey says, crossing her legs on the couch, clicking the remote.

  “Cade’s dad?”

  I nod.

  “And your first cousin once removed, actually,” Marla adds. “And you are… Adam?” She guesses correctly, which makes me the asshole who doesn’t know her kids.

  “I am.” Adam sounds as surprised as I am.

  “I’m Marla.”

  “Hey,” Adam says.

  “You’ll call her Mrs. Greene,” I correct.

  The room falls silent.

  “Like Grandma?” Adam says.

  I shake my head. Damn, this is weird. Especially when I already know late tonight when I’m all alone, I’m going to be thinking of Marla and not as my cousin’s ex-wife.

  “Fine. You can call her Marla,” I say and the tension in the room eases.

  “Excuse me,” the pizza guy says.

  Marla’s head snaps up as she grabs her wallet next to the door. “Yeah sorry.”

  We step farther into the house.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt the family reunion,” the guy says.

  Adam sits down next to Posey, watching whatever game show she is. Jed and I stand there awkwardly.

  “I heard about practice today,” I say. “Cade said you’re quite the quarterback.”

  His smug face says he knows how good he is and he’s already positive he’s beat Cade out of the starting quarterback spot. I’m not usually a ra-ra guy when it comes to boosting my kid’s ego. I teach my kids that you earn what you get and if Jed is better, then he deserves it, but the cockiness oozing out of this kid reminds me of his father. Unfortunately, that makes me go into “protect Cade” mode.

  “Cade’s been the quarterback for three years. The boys all play well together. Must be rough getting used to a new team?”

  Marla shuts the door, and Jed takes the two pizza boxes from her hands. A thank you never leaves his lips.

  “I guess that’s the good thing about quarterback. As long as I throw the ball to them and they score, it keeps everyone happy.”

  I nod. “The boys are tight. Maybe Cade could take you under his wing, show you around?”

  “That’d be wonderful.” Marla’s hand touches my arm.

  Something like a bolt of electricity zings up my forearm straight to my heart, making it beat a little faster. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a woman’s touch if a hand on the forearm gets me going.

  “Nah, I’m good. But thanks.” Jed walks off toward the kitchen.

  Marla’s shoulders sink. “I’m sorry. This has been a tough transition.”

  I’ve been where she’s at, when your teenage kid embarrasses you in front of another parent. “I understand.” I thumb toward the truck. “I’m going to go get the water heater. Adam?”

  “Coming.” Adam gets up and follows me to the truck. As we’re sliding the water heater out of the bed, Adam whispers, “That Jed is kind of a dick.”

  I want to correct my son’s language, but he’s got a point. The apple didn’t fall too far from Jeff’s tree, that’s for sure.

  “That ego of yours needs to get checked, Jed. You’re new to this school, and stealing your cousin’s spot on the football team isn’t something to gloat about.”

  “Second,” he mumbles with a mouth full of pizza.

  “Excuse me?”

  He swallows. “Second cousin.”

  I go through the stacks of paperwork all the kids brought home today, annoyed, frustrated, and embarrassed by my own son.

  “Can I go down and watch them work?” Posey asks, already sliding away from the table.

  “Can we not have takeout tomorrow?” Nikki asks.

  “Can I?” Posey asks for the second time, standing at the top of the basement stairs.

  “Let me go through your stack first, then you need to ask Hank if it’s okay for you to watch. But you have to stay out of the way.”

  She steps down one stair.

  “Posey, I said wait until I go through your schoolwork.”

  “It’s all done, with star stickers and excellent written on top. My teacher loves me.” She heads down the stairs.

  “Teacher’s pet,” Jed coughs into his hand.

  I put down Posey’s stack because I’m sure she’s telling the truth. She’s not my problem child at the moment. I pick up Jed’s pile, which is mostly football stuff. Fundraiser information, the spirit wear sheet, game schedules, practices, permission slips to take the school bus, and lastly the dreaded concession stand volunteer form. I hate the concession stand, and now I don’t have any of my old friends to commiserate with.

  “Hey, there isn’t a kid with the last name Demonte on the team, is there?” I ask Jed.

  He looks at the ceiling and shakes his head. “Not that I know of, but there are some guys whose names I don’t know.”

  Knowing my luck, Donna Demonte will be the go-to person in charge of everything to do with the football team and I’ll have to interact with her on a daily basis.

  I sign his bus permission slip, put the schedule on the fridge, and place the volunteer paper on top so I can pick a few dates and be done with it. In Mandi’s stack, there isn’t much to deal with, and I breeze right through Nikki’s.

  “Anyone want to talk about their day?” I take a slice of pizza.

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  I nod and take a bite of my pizza, thinking I’d rather go downstairs and strike up a conversation with Hank than sit here. But that would be awkward, so I sit tight.

  Posey comes up the stairs. “He wants to see you,” she says.

  I place the piece of pizza down, wipe my hands, and head downstairs, Posey following. The first thing I see is Adam using a broom to sweep all the water toward the drain. Posey picks up another one and helps him.

  “Thanks, guys.” I run my hand over Posey’s hair, and she moves her head out of the way as though she’s too old for me to do that.

  “Your parents are lucky they never finished the basement,” Hank says, plugging in a light and handing it to me. “Do you mind? I was going to ask the kids but thought if it drops in the water, we might all be electrocuted.”

  “You don’t want to leave your fate in the hands of a responsible eight-year-old?”

  He laughs. I forgot how much my body responded to that sound.

  “She locked me out. So she’s smart too.” He opens his toolbox.

  I glance at the kids. Posey is asking Adam who he had for a teacher in the third grade.

  “Yeah, unfortunately with all her responsibility and intelligence, she’s turned into my own little mommy, worrying about me like I’m her newborn.”

  He glances back my way. “I am sorry to hear about you and Jeff.” I raise my eyebrows, and he laughs. “He hurt you. For that, I’m sorry.”

  He focuses on the wrench and the nut while my throat closes up. I can tell that he’s sincere.

  “I bet coming back here brings up the good and the bad,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me.

  I glance at the kids again. Posey and Adam are each resting their weight on the brooms. Posey probably has one ear on our conversation and one ear on the conversation she’s in.

  I call to them, “Why don’t you two go have some pizza?”

  “Oh, I made chili at home. Adam will be fine.”
/>   “I have plenty.”

  Hank lets the topic go and the kids rush upstairs. “Seems you just signed up to be my helper.”

  “Is that my punishment? If so, I’ll take it. Adult conversation in the quiet of my basement? All I need now is wine.”

  “I could have smuggled some in,” he says, standing and lifting the old water heater up and out of the way.

  “I could help.”

  “Keeps me young.”

  We both laugh. When you’re in your early forties like us, you become very aware of how not young you are. I never felt as old as I did until Jeff told me he was leaving me—for a younger woman. He’s so cliché.

  It’s impossible not to look back at my life and what I’ve accomplished. Or haven’t. I told myself I was raising my kids and once Posey went to kindergarten, I’d enter the workforce again. But Jeff wasn’t big on me working, and I hate to admit it, I was scared. Scared I wasn’t qualified to do anything other than pack lunches, cut shapes out of construction paper, and drive my kids everywhere. I’m a smart woman, but I don’t have anything to put on a resume to prove it.

  Hank brings over a stool and swipes off any dirt on it. “Sit down. You deserve it.”

  “Thanks.” I sit, still holding his light, and he goes back to work on the water heater. “I’m sorry about Jed. Up there. Unfortunately he has his dad’s ego.”

  Hank doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I think all seventeen-year-old boys should be cocky right before the real world drags them down a level or two.” Another chuckle leaks out of him.

  I sigh in relief. “True. Although I’m not sure Jeff ever got dragged down.”

  He stops working and looks over. “He lost you, right?”

  Something flutters in my stomach. “Technically he gave me up.”

  “One day he’ll realize how stupid he was.”

  “You’re still as sweet as ever.”

  “And you’re still easy to be sweet to.”

  All I can do is smile and hope he doesn’t see the flush I feel heat up my cheeks.

  I watch him work for a while, the quiet of the room a nice change from my everyday life with a house full of kids.