He'd gone perfectly still and the world went silent. She saw nothing but his face, felt nothing but his closely shaven skin against her fingertips, heard his breath getting raggedy, breathed a scent she couldn't name-something all him, she supposed. Now if she could just taste …
He lowered his head, captured her lips in a kiss so sweet it was painful. Her eyes stung, her body ached. He didn't put his arms around her, though, or deepen the kiss but lingered gently, carefully, as if afraid she would break, then he pulled back and pressed his cheek to her hair.
"This is a really bad idea," he whispered against her temple.
"I know." But it had been so long since she'd been touched, so long since she'd been held and comforted. She'd handled everything alone. Selling the house, buying a new one, moving. Never mind the gangsters. "Would you hold me, please?"
His arms slipped around her. She tucked her face against his neck and savored him. Her ice-cold bones began to thaw. A sob rose. She tried to make a sound to cover it, tried to pull away. His hold tightened, not painfully but insistently.
"Don't be afraid," he said.
She wasn't, but how could she tell him that? He just felt good. Strong. Protective. "I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry."
"Shh. It's okay." He stroked her hair.
"I've just been … "
"Alone. I know."
After a minute she eased back. "Thank you," she said, turning away and going to the refrigerator, giving herself something to do. "I'm going to have some iced tea. How about you?"
"That'd be fine, thanks." He sat at the kitchen table. When she joined him with the drinks he said, "I checked on Paul's motorcycle. It was taken to a recycling yard months ago. The tow yard said you signed a release to the insurance company."
"I signed a lot of papers in those days. I don't remember one document from the rest."
"I can take a trip down there, see if I can track it down."
"Only if you think it will help. I assume it had been examined thoroughly."
He took a sip of his tea, then set down the glass carefully. She figured he had something important to say but was hesitant to say it. He looked different clean shaven. She'd kind of liked the bad-boy scruffiness after she'd gotten used to it. He looked … nicer now. Not as risky. It should've quieted her adrenaline, but no such luck. If anything, a lot of excess hormones were pole-vaulting inside her.
"Did Kevin find anything in Paul's paperwork?" he asked.
"I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet."
The front door opened, and Kevin raced up the stairs. "Mom?"
"In the kitchen," Caryn called out, grateful he hadn't caught them kissing. She didn't know how she could possibly explain that.
He shot into the kitchen. "Do I look okay?" He ran his hands down his long-sleeved, navy-blue dress shirt, patted his yellow and blue tie. His gaze flicked from Caryn to James, who nodded.
"You look nice," she said. "You'll need names and addresses and phone numbers for references."
"Like who?"
"Adults who would sing your praises," James said.
"It isn't enough that you recommended me?"
"You'll have to fill out an application like everyone else. It's one of the questions."
"I'll write down some names for you," Caryn said, standing. She realized she would be leaving them alone. She didn't want them to talk about James's mother-or anything else-without her. "Where's Venus?"
"Downstairs. I'm going to drop her at her house on my way."
"Good." She left the room, tracked down her address book then hurried back. She needn't have worried. They didn't seem to have spoken while she was gone. She wondered why, though.
"Tell me about your-James's mother," she said as she grabbed a pen and paper.
His eyes lit up. "She's cool. Did you know she sailed from San Francisco to Australia?" he said to James. "Just her and your dad."
"As a matter of fact, I did." He smiled. "It was the first year of their marriage. She was a few months pregnant with me at the end of it. They never stopped going on adventures, either. I've never been on the jungle ride at Disneyland, but I've been down the Amazon. And on safari, twice."
"Wow."
"I didn't really appreciate all they showed me until I was old enough to realize not everyone took those kinds of vacations."
"Your dad was a cop."
"Yeah. A good one."
Caryn heard pride in his voice.
Kevin leaned against the counter, relaxing. "Your mom showed me pictures." He nodded a little, as if to himself, as if coming to a decision. "I'm gonna go back another time when I don't have to be somewhere else."
"If you get this job," Caryn said, "you probably won't have much free time."
"I'll manage." He'd gone rigid. His tone was defensive.
"It was just a comment, Kevin."
"Whether you like it or not, Mom, I'm an adult. I can figure things out by myself now."
The silence that followed was one step short of torture. She finished writing down names and contact information and passed the sheet to her son. "Good luck," she said as cheerfully as possible.
"Thanks." He left without saying goodbye, which probably meant he was embarrassed by his own behavior.
"I'm sorry," she said to James, then picked up her glass, giving herself something to do. "I never know how he's going to react to anything these days. Pretty unpredictable."
"Unpredictable, huh?" He grinned, but she didn't know why. "Eighteen's a tough age. You want to break free from your parents, but you aren't necessarily ready to handle everything on your own yet."
"I admit I've had a hard time letting him go."
"Understandable, given your own loss. He seems like a good kid, though, with a good head on his shoulders."
"I hope so." She spun her glass on the table, then dragged her finger through the water beading up on the Formica surface. What now? Did he want to leave? Stay? Have dinner? Talk?
She tested the waters. "Would you like to see pictures of him growing up?"
A few beats passed. "Yes, I would. Thank you."
The emotion in his voice startled her. She hadn't tried to examine how he felt about everything-Kevin. Her. He'd known all these years that he had a child, of course, but had he wondered about him as a father might? She'd read articles written by other sperm donors. Some felt an attachment, a wish they could see the child, but most said they divorced themselves from the actuality of another human being, genetically theirs. They had helped someone who would've otherwise not been able to have a child. That was it. Like a civic duty.
She wanted to ask James where he stood, how he felt, but she wasn't sure she was ready for his answer. If he wanted to take Paul's place-
"Caryn?"
She lifted her head. "Hmm?"
"Pictures?"
She went to get her photo albums, then they spent the next hour poring over them. She shared stories of Kevin she'd forgotten but was reminded by the snapshot images. By default James also got a glimpse into her marriage and their family life-and so did she.
If anyone had asked her at any point during the past twenty years if her marriage was happy, she would've said yes. Certainly they had problems, like any other couple, but they'd worked through them. No marriage is perfect all the time.
But looking at the photographs gave her a different perspective. As time went by, she and Paul stood farther and farther apart, instead of arms wrapped around each other, as they had in the first few years. Again, normal, she supposed, for a settled-in relationship. There were fewer pictures as time went by, too. Also normal.
In the first ten years or so they'd worked hard, never having time or energy to be tired of each other or argumentative. They focused on surviving. Yearly his worth went up in the stuntman community. He made more money, enough for her to stay home with Kevin at what seemed like a critical time-prepuberty. She missed the company of neighbors in the isolated area where they lived. She no longer had coworkers, or praise for a job well done, or raises. Paul gave her a household allowance. Other than that, she knew nothing about their finances.
As she'd gotten to the album of Kevin's high school years, she saw changes in Paul that she hadn't seen in person. He'd lost weight. He looked gaunt. Worried? Scared? Had the gambling started that long ago?