Page 504 of Summer Heat
She turned up the volume another notch, and spun around with her son. The music, so rich and wild and yes, happy, washed away the strain of her bad day. Holding the precious, laughing body of her son in her arms, it all seemed worth it—losing college and Eric and having to be poor again when that was the one thing she’d vowed to avoid.
It was worth it. A thousand times over.
* * *
Lance could hear the music as soon as he turned off Tamara’s car in her driveway. It was the “Blue Danube Waltz,” floating out on waves of fairy-tale sound into the trees and the gathering dusk. In the living room she had turned a lamp on against the darkness, but had neglected to pull the curtains. He could see her plainly through the wide front window, dancing with her son. The little boy leaned back suddenly, letting his head fall, and Tamara spun him around. The boy’s hair fluttered like the fringe on a yellow scarf.
Lance didn’t move. He stood by the car, feeling somehow winded. It didn’t occur to him to be ashamed of spying on them. As he watched, Tamara put her son on his feet, and led a march around the living room to the sound of the drums. Then the boy led. And when the swirling started again, they spun around side by side, arms out to the side. Lance found his attention snagged by the sight of her dark, sleek hair swinging in a bell around her shoulders.
Watching them, the sense of brittleness that had surrounded Lance all day ebbed, and he felt only very tired and empty. He might have stood there all evening, immobile, but a car came down the road, spitting gravel from the shoulder. Shaken from his trance, he went to the door and rang the bell.
Cody flung open the door. “Hey, the forest man!” he said. The blond locks were tousled, and for a single moment, Lance was reminded of his brother Tyler. Ty’s hair was lighter, but he’d been impish like this.
Hard to believe now. Lance doubted there was a more serious person on the planet.
“Hi there,” Lance said. “Can I talk to your mom, please?”
He waited on the porch this time, unwilling to invade her private time with her child. Tamara came right to the door. Her cheeks were flushed a bright rosy color. “Oh, hi!” she said, pushing open the screen door. “Come in. Things are a mess, but…well, just come on.”
As he stepped in, the next waltz came on, deafeningly loud. “Cody, turn that down for me, please.” She looked at Lance. “Sorry. We got a little carried. away.”
He tried to find a smile, but it felt like only a shadow. “I saw you from outside. Looked like fun.”
“Come in and sit down,” she said. “Can I get you a cup of tea or something? I don’t keep liquor or beer, but we have other things.”
To his surprise, he settled on the couch. It was worn and comfortable, covered with a bright blanket. “I can’t stay long. But maybe a cup of tea would be nice.”
“Stay right there. I’ll get it.”
Cody had turned down the music, and now came over and sat down on the couch next to him. The boy pretended not to be interested. He sat close to the edge and swung his feet, his little hands in his lap, like a maiden aunt sitting with company.
Lance had practice making small talk with little ones. “You go to school yet?” he asked.
“No. Not real school. Only preschool.” He brightened. “But I can read. Wanna see?”
“Sure.” Lance chuckled.
Cody jumped down and scuttled over to the table. He brought back a stack of Dr. Seuss books. Lance guessed he’d been read to often, and had memorized the text of one or another of them. Cody held them out awkwardly, using his knee to keep from dropping the whole stack. “Which one do you want?”
“Let me help you, kiddo.” Lance propped the books up on his palms. “You pick.”
Cody looked at them carefully. “This one has mommy in it. I know that word pretty good.”
Lance put the others on the table and let Cody crawl up next to him. The boy felt warm against him. The painful ache in his chest somehow eased with the contact, and he dropped his arm around the child. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“I hafta go slow, though,” Cody said earnestly, his big blue eyes wide. “And you might have to help me with some words.”
“I can do that.”
Cody flipped open the book to a page in the middle and put his finger on the first word. “I don’t know this one,” he said.
“‘Are,’” Lance said.
“Are you mmmm-mmm—eeee mommy?” he said haltingly. “Oh! ‘Are you my mommy?’”
“Good.”
“That’s not his mommy, I don’t think,” Cody said with a frown. “A bird needs a bird mommy.”
