His Brown-Eyed Girl

“I’ve been sitting on that bench.” Michael pointed toward the front of the store.

“With the smokers?”

“I wasn’t smoking.”

Charlotte skipped past the truck and climbed onto the cart return. “Jeez, Chris, pull your sister down. I told you to watch her. Chris?”

“He’s over there looking at lawn mowers.” Michael flung an arm toward the side of the store.

“Chris!”

The ten-year-old froze, looked around to make sure no one had witnessed then jogged toward them.

“Why did you yell at me across the parking lot?”

“Because you are supposed to be watching your sister while I load this lumber, and I’m pretty sure there aren’t any ‘hotties’ at Home Depot on a Saturday morning.”

Chris shot him a withering look. “Girls are prisoners just like me. We get dragged everywhere by our parents...even to Bed Bath & Beyond. No one cares what a kid wants. Besides, I’ve already seen Josie Dupont.”

“You’re wasting your breath, plague. She’s too hot for you,” Michael muttered.

Chris rolled his eyes. “This from the biggest social piranha at St. Mark’s.”

“Shut the hell up.” Michael reached for Chris, but Lucas caught his arm.

“Okay, I’ve had enough. Chris, fetch your sister and stop calling your brother an Amazonian fish.” Lucas heaved another load into the truck.

“What?” Chris asked.

“Look, stupid, if you’re going to insult me, at least use the correct terminology. It’s social pariah.” Michael’s voice dripped with venom...and a shade of hurt.

Lucas turned Chris toward where his sister dangled. “Go.”

Chris sighed and did as bid.

Lucas faced Michael who had fixed his gaze on the cars whizzing down Veterans Boulevard. “What did he mean by that? You having trouble at school?”

His oldest nephew stiffened. “What’s it to you?”

Lucas looked at Michael. Dark hair swooping low across a forehead that bore the hallmark of being thirteen. Acne also marred his cheeks and chin, but not so much that it took away from his handsomeness. He was thin and gawky, but so were many boys that age. He looked like the quintessential young teen but with Ben’s smile and brown eyes. It was as if Lucas saw his own brother twenty-two years ago.

“Just trying to hel—” Lucas bit down on his tongue because that sounded lame even to him. “Never mind. But if you want to talk or if anything is going on that can’t wait until your mother gets home, you know where I am.”

“Yeah, I do. You’re sleeping in my parents’ bed. A virtual stranger who doesn’t know me or anything about my life.”

Lucas nodded. “True, but I’m here.”

“Yes. You’re here.” Without another word, Michael started to unload the cart.

Such anger and frustration was to be expected when going through puberty. Lucas could remember how awkward the age was. One moment he wanted to hit his father, the next crawl into his lap and hide from the cruel world. So Lucas would give Michael space. No doubt he dealt with something at school, but the boy didn’t trust him enough to seek help or advice. Lucas would keep his eye on his nephew...in case he needed to intervene.

After loading the truck, he drove through a doughnut place and picked up a couple dozen to pacify the kids. Screw never rewarding kids with food. This was survival for Lucas and he’d “pick his battles” like the article in the parenting magazine on the back of the toilet had suggested. Ben and Courtney had no hunting, fishing or sports magazines lying around their house, but obviously liked knowing the ten best snacks for their toddler.

The entire way to Uptown, Michael was silent, noshing on doughnuts, earbuds in as Chris and Charlotte quietly worked on a sugar high Lucas knew he’d pay for later. Every time he glanced in his rearview mirror, he caught sight of the three-year-old, who looked like a commercial for everything cute. At one point she caught his eye and smiled, sugary doughnut gumming up her face, looking so like her mother he couldn’t help but soften.

Which was strange since he’d spent years being angry at the woman who had ripped out his heart and left her high heels embedded within its depths.

He remembered the first time he’d seen Courtney. She’d been eleven years old, all legs and glorious blond hair, dangling from a branch of an old oak tree in the front yard of the house her parents had moved into days before. Lucas had been cutting through on his way to his friend Matt’s house to shoot hoops when he’d seen her fall from the tree. He’d scrambled over some bushes, hopped the low fence and found her in a tangle, laughing like a loon. She’d looked up, grabbed the book that had also fallen and smiled. “This is exactly how these two met.”

“Huh?”

She pointed to the cover of a book that had a Native American woman entwined in a cowboy’s arms. “These two, Small Dove and Colt. She fell out of a tree and he caught her. Crazy, huh?”

Lucas took several steps back wondering why a kid was reading a book that seemed to have sex in it. “I just came to see if you were okay.”

She beamed at him. “You rescued me. You’re my siuleehu. That means soul mate in Cherokee.”

He hadn’t known what to say to that. Or to her every time she boldly rode her bike to his house, stalking him with sunshine and silly smiles, all skinny-legged and browned by the sun. Then one day, she stopped following him. And six months later, he started following a new Courtney. One whose flat planes had developed into curvy wonderfulness, a girl who smelled like a meadow, wore lip gloss and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. She’d been gorgeous, still funny but not so silly anymore.

For ten years they’d played tag with each other, giving each other their first kiss, accompanying each other to school dances, taking long walks down shady streets, sneaking in kisses, practicing moves on each other and cementing the idea Courtney had offered up that day years before—that they were soul mates.

To be together, build a life with a home, children and successful careers had been the plan...until Ben had come home from college with a hard body and a charming smile. While Lucas had been busy studying for law exams, his brother had been sending out resumes and schooling Courtney around town. Lucas had actually felt gratitude toward his brother for taking care of his soon-to-be fiancée while he studied. After all, they would be family within a few years.

But while he slaved over the intricacies of tax law, Ben and Courtney had been falling madly in love over lattes and late night movies.

Lucas hadn’t had a clue until he’d shown Ben the carat-and-a-half square diamond he planned to surprise Courtney with and watched the blood drain from Ben’s face. At that moment, he began to suspect the distance between him and Courtney had been because of Ben. A kernel of suspicion had bloomed, only to be confirmed days later when they had come to him, contrite, tears in their eyes as they explained how the impossible had happened, how they’d tried to fight against it, but hadn’t been able to stop fate. They were in love...and expecting a baby.

Lucas glanced over at that baby, thirteen now, and disdainful of the man who had stayed away from him because it hurt too damn bad to be in the same room with the two people he’d once loved so well, but who had betrayed him. Made a fool of him.

“You missed the turn,” Michael said.

“Sh—” Lucas bit off the curse word. He had to be careful with his language, but minding his tongue when he felt stressed to the limit was hard. “Easy fix. I’ll take the next exit. Little sightseeing.”

Except it wasn’t great sightseeing on the detour—most of the houses were dilapidated and lonely. Like a neighborhood time forgot...or more like politicians forgot after Hurricane Katrina. Lucas’s artist eye saw opportunity for some emotional photos. Maybe when the kids were in school, he’d come with his camera and play around with some shots. Wasn’t stark landforms against a barren landscape, but the beauty peeking from beneath the cracks and weathering had a rare quality.

Fifteen minutes later, they were on State Street. Ten more and they were in Addy’s driveway unloading bags containing the wood screws and other supplies. Michael, without being asked, hefted a roll of heavy-duty plastic from the bed of the truck and dropped it onto the grass next to the greenhouse.

“Careful,” Lucas said. He wished he’d brought his worn work boots, but the newer, shinier cowboy boots would have to do. “We don’t want to tear that plastic.”

Michael’s mouth flattened into a line. “I don’t know why I have to help do this. I didn’t tear it up.”

“Because it’s Saturday, the sun is out and a neighbor needs help.”

No response came from the kid.

Lucas glanced into the backyard where Chris ignored his younger sister who balanced on her stomach on the swing dangling from the massive wooden play set. His finger swooped across the small screen he held, his concentration centered on the iWhateveritwas in his hand. “Chris, please keep an eye on your sister while we unload everything,” Lucas called.

“Okay,” the boy said, not looking up.