Shooting the Moon

“We’re all he’s ever known,” her mother put in.

“That might be true,” Lauren said. “But what if Harley takes us to court? You realize he could win complete custody. We stand to lose Brandon altogether.”

At last, a moment of silence. “What’s he like now?” Quentin asked, his voice less emotional and more calculating.

Lauren pictured the tall, handsome spectacle that was Harley Nelson and tried not to feel so much as a flicker of admiration, but something fluttered in her stomach all the same. “He’s taller and…a little broader,” she said to avoid saying anything more flattering. She could have added that he was confident, almost cocky, and very real, very appealing—far different from any of the stuffed shirts she’d dated. But she didn’t. “He still drives a motorcycle,” she said so her description wouldn’t sound quite so sketchy.

Fortunately her father didn’t push her for any more details. “See?” he responded immediately. “He hasn’t changed. Bad seeds rarely do. Probably doesn’t have a pot to piss in. Don’t worry, Lauren, there’s nothing a man like that can do to us or Brandon.”

So they had Harley outgunned as far as resources went. Did that justify denying him the opportunity to meet his own son? What about the moral side of the dilemma? And what about Brandon’s wishes? If he were to find out his father was in town, surely he’d want to see him. “But if Harley sincerely regrets what he did, then it would only be right to—”

“Don’t tell me what’s right,” her father snapped. “He couldn’t regret what happened any more than I do. That son of a bitch cost me my little girl,” he said, his voice growing hoarse with emotion.

Audra. Lauren felt the same sense of loss and regret she knew her father felt, but she had to ask herself how much of the situation ten years ago had been Audra’s fault? And how much had been Harley’s? Had she told him she was on the pill, as he claimed? If so, she certainly deserved a larger portion of the responsibility than the Worthingtons had ever allotted to her before. But the real question was whether or not Audra would’ve alienated her family and sunk into drug abuse without Harley starting her down the wrong road and abandoning her.

That was tough to say. Remembering the way her sister had behaved at school, flitting from one guy to the next, partying with the best of them and rebelling against any kind of authority, Lauren had difficulty placing all the blame in Harley’s lap. “She was eighteen, Dad.”

“So? What are you saying?”

That she was old enough to understand the consequences of her actions. Lauren had known better than to follow in Audra’s footsteps, even at the tender age of seventeen. “She was almost an adult.”

“How can you say that? Audra was just an innocent young girl when she met Harley.”

“He was the same age.”

“Maybe. But he was hardly innocent. And I tried to tell him to leave her alone. I told him what was going to happen. If only the little bastard had listened. Don’t you remember me catching them in the front yard in the middle of the night, both of them nearly falling-down drunk? I told him to stay away from her then. I knew it was just a matter of time before he ruined her life, and I was right.”

Lauren heard her mother warning Quentin to watch his blood pressure, but he seemed to pay no more attention to that than anything else Marilee said.

“He’s cost us enough already, Lauren. You know that,” he muttered.

“What about Brandon? What about what he might want?”

“Lauren, Brandon’s not even ten. He doesn’t know what’s best, and it wouldn’t be fair to involve him.”

“Shouldn’t we at least tell him that his father’s in town? See if—”

“Why? What good would it do?” he broke in. “If you bring Brandon into this, you’ll only upset him.”

Lauren didn’t say anything. She hated confrontations and avoided them whenever possible, especially with her father. But somehow it felt dishonest not to tell Brandon that his father had some interest in knowing him.

“Lauren?” her father said when she didn’t speak.

“I’m here.”

“I love Brandon, honey. You know how much.”

Lauren couldn’t help responding to the softening in his voice. “I don’t doubt that.”

“If Audra had listened to me in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. She’d still be with us. But she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let me do what I knew was best for her.”

Was Lauren making the same mistake? Was she undermining her father when she should be supporting him? The thought that she might be doing just that seemed to shed new light on everything.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I won’t mention Harley to Brandon, and I’ll tell Harley to stay away. But what do I do if he won’t take no for an answer? What if he won’t leave us alone?”

“Then we’ll get a restraining order against him until this can go to court. But don’t worry. It won’t get that far. The boy I remember from ten years ago wasn’t the kind to stick around long enough to fight for anything. Do you think things are any different now?”

Yes! She thought things were significantly different. Harley wasn’t a man who’d allow himself to be bullied or intimidated or denied. Not by Quentin Worthington or his fortune. How Lauren knew that, she couldn’t exactly say. It had something to do with Harley’s bearing and demeanor. At the same time, it was only a hunch and she could be wrong, so she hesitated to state her opinion too strongly.

“He’s a little more determined than he used to be,” she said.

“Then we’ll be just as determined. He’s not going to threaten my family’s well-being a second time.”

“Right. I understand.”

“Where is he now?”

“I believe he’s staying with an old friend of his.” In fact, she knew he was. He’d said so last night. He’d even given her the number.

“Well, if he comes around again, you send him packing. If he won’t leave, call the police.”

“Okay,” Lauren said, but her heart sank as she contemplated facing Harley and telling him she’d changed her mind. She felt sorry for him, for what he’d lost, even if it was largely due to his own poor judgment.

“I wish we were there to help you. Do you think your mom and I should come home?”

Deep down Lauren wished they would. She wanted Quentin to deal with the situation so she wouldn’t have to. Let him sift the rights from the wrongs, make the tough decisions—and accept the responsibility.

What a cop-out, she thought, cringing at her cowardice. She was nearly thirty years old. It was time she took charge instead of expecting her parents to handle everything.

“Don’t cut your trip short yet,” she said. “Let’s wait and see how things go. Maybe after I talk to him he’ll just…go home.” Yeah, right!

“Okay. But promise you’ll call us after you talk to him.”

“I will.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“Here, your mother wants to say hello.”

HARLEY SAT on the edge of a bed consisting of two mattresses and a cheap set of rails in Tank’s spare room, waiting anxiously for the sun to rise. He was surrounded by boxes filled with who knew what—leftovers from Tank’s marriage, probably, belongings that held too many memories to unpack—staring at empty walls and a dirty window with a broken blind. But he could’ve been sitting behind home plate at the World Series and it wouldn’t have made any difference. He would still have been thinking of Brandon.

He was going to meet his son today. Harley had envisioned coming face to face with him hundreds, even thousands of times, but he’d never anticipated feeling so…apprehensive. It might’ve been different if Brandon was younger and less likely to be critical. Toddlers didn’t care what a parent was like. They accepted whatever love they were offered. But a nine-year-old boy…

Harley stretched his neck, then squeezed the muscles in his left shoulder, wishing he could iron out a few of the knots. A nine-year-old boy would already know how to play ball and read and ride a bike. He’d have his own taste in clothes and his own opinions on what was cool and whether or not he might be interested in getting to know the man who’d fathered him.

What if Brandon didn’t want to be bothered? What if he didn’t want Harley to disturb his picture-perfect life with the Worthingtons?