Stop Here Read Online Free Page B

talk to, such a pleasure. He and Mark just came back from camping. The three of us plan to go sailing later. Will you join us?” Her words are friendly, but her gray eyes are hesitant. And why shouldn’t they be? No doubt Mark told her Bobby is some needy kid whose poor, overworked mother couldn’t give him anything. Certainly not that she’s the woman he bedded down with all these months.
    Lydia pours her a cup of coffee at the table. She can’t remember the last time anyone did that for her.
    Feet drum across wooden floors. Entering the kitchen, they both stop.
    â€œWell . . . hello . . .” Mark says. He licks his lips and manages a smile. “You’re a long way from home.”
    â€œMom, did something happen?” He’s alarmed as if caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.
    â€œNo, honey. I had some days off and decided to see some of the country. I was near enough to save Mark a trip and pick you up.”
    Mark leans against the counter, ankles crossed, arranging himself in a pose—no doubt familiar to his wife—she’s never seen.
    â€œBut I’ve only been here a few days.” His words are half-apologetic, half-accusing.
    â€œYes, I know. We never did decide how long the vacation would last, did we?” And she touches his cheek.
    Sensible words but her brain flashes another headline: duped, betrayed, his sweet talk, endearments, promises, all lies. Never mentioned a wife, did he? Her skin stings. Man needs a son to play with and takes hers. This weird kidnap, isn’t that what it is? Her roiling mind searches for a way to upend this ludicrous reunion. She’s a cop’s daughter, taught to take action. She won’t allow Mark to violate two women. Only Bobby’s puzzled gaze causes her to hesitate.
    â€œBut Mom, we have so many plans. Me and Mark, I mean . . .”
    â€œWon’t you reconsider,” Lydia asks with little enthusiasm. She must be wondering who this younger woman is.
    â€œNo, but thank you. Bobby, pack your stuff. We’ll talk more on the bus.” Or not, she thinks, because he’s so upset by now that his lips are quivering, his eyes narrowing against the tears. She can’t allow his disappointment to reach her. If he stayed the summer, he wouldn’t be mistreated. But it would be like stealing, wouldn’t it? Stealing her trust and then her son. Stealing what only money can’t buy. Why should Mark get the pleasure of her son?
    â€œMom, listen, I have an idea,” Bobby’s jerking her arm as if to shake some sense into her. With his pale skin and wheat-colored hair, he could disappear into any cornfield.
    â€œI’m listening,” she says gently.
    â€œHow about if I stay for July? Then you and me can have August together. How about that?”
    She can feel it and she’s strangely touched. He’s trying to negotiate her happiness as well as his own. She stands there in a circle of calmness that nothing in this situation justifies or explains. She knows her job as well as she would if she were working the diner. She has to reassure Bobby that none of this is his fault. And Mark hasn’t said a word, doesn’t dare to influence the moment one way or the other. If they go on much longer, Mark’s reticence will hurt Bobby even more than her insistence.
    â€œI have some plans for us, a surprise, but you need to pack up now.” And what would that be, she wonders, but it doesn’t matter. Surprises are the easy part. She’ll send him to sports camp and worry about how to pay later. He’s about to try one last time, but she adds with all the emphasis a mother can bring to bear, “Bobby, go do it, please.”
    After he’s clumped out of the room, she sips her coffee. The fury of a bird’s flapping wings speeds past the window.
    Mark stands there, a poster of the good husband. Why shouldn’t his wife know the truth?
    Lydia wipes the table