Page 33 of Hearts Don't Lie
She playfully swatted his hand. “Wash your hands, both of you. I’ll get everything ready.” Mac pulled a plastic plate and glasses from the cabinet.
She opened the door with her hip and stepped onto the back patio, placing a tray laden with a large plate of cookies, three glasses of ice, and a pitcher of lemonade on the table. The boys tumbled out and joined her. While they stuffed their faces, she shared stories about her trip, sans her client’s identity. Mouths full, they listened politely but grew more animated after their hunger was appeased, filling her in about camp and their plans for the evening—a tent sleepover at another friend’s house.
“Can I, Mom? I know I haven’t seen you for a few days, but—”
“It’s okay. Summer is almost over.” Mac smiled, connecting with her son’s bright eyes, masking her disappointment. “Shower first though.”
“You got it.”
Beck rose with his glass, taking it to the kitchen, the door halfway open. “That was great! Thanks, Aunt Kenna. I’d better shower too. Meet you in thirty, Bro,” he said before the door closed behind him.
“Thirty?”
“Um. They’re having a cookout too.” Seeing her reaction, he followed up with, “Uh, I can go after we have dinner.”
“Nope. It’s fine. You go have fun with your friends.” She stood and ruffled his hair. “We’ll do dinner tomorrow night.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a date.” He grabbed the plate, his glass, and the used napkins. His eyes flashed up to hers, gratefulness evident. “I love you, Mom.”
Mac searched her son’s eyes, so much like his father’s. Tears tickled her lashes and her voice cracked as she whispered, “I love you more.”
Deciding to make Stowe’s favorite dinner anyway, she opened a chilled bottle of red zinfandel and selected a country playlist to listen to while beginning preparations, occasionally singing along. She took a long sip and let the wine mingle on her tongue, thinking back.
Macandcheese, renamed by her son as cheese pasta pie, had been a staple for as long as she could remember. It had been an inexpensive, one-pot, easy-to-manage meal that filled her up. After having Stowe, she had elevated it, making a healthier version from scratch.
Alicia never cooked, so Mac’s meals had consisted of PB&J, cans of concentrated soup, macaroni and cheese, or a grilled cheese sandwich. Fruit and vegetables rounded out her diet, courtesy of the school lunch program. On rare occasions, she’d treated herself to a burger with money squirreled away from working odd jobs.
Gnawing hunger had been part of her youth. Until Hardin. She sipped again from her glass. Hardin took her out to eat whenever their dates occurred over mealtimes, which was more often than not. He also surprised her with incredible picnics. Her world and palate expanded, and the hunger pangs had vanished.
After being abandoned by Alicia and moving to Colorado, money was tight. Mac had intended on returning to the meager diet she had known, determined to support herself and the life growing inside her. But what happened was Issa Fleming. A true force of nature.
Tall and rawboned with beautiful, long dove-gray hair, Issa was Carol’s best friend, part of the national network that quietly supported girls and women who found themselves in difficult situations. Issa took her in and oversaw her diet and showered Mac with motherly love and pragmatism. She also helped Mac find work where she could earn enough money to increase her nest egg, some of which was used to legally change her name ahead of the baby’s birth. Issa also nurtured her emotionally and spiritually and introduced Mac to her daughter Cori. The young women became fast friends, and their friendship had only deepened over the years, with Cori embracing Mac and Stowe as family.
Mac asked Issa to be in the delivery room and, when she gave the final push on that beautiful May morning—straining, shaking, and yelping from the pain as Stowe slipped from the warm recesses of her body, it was Issa who placed the swaddled infant into her waiting arms.
“You have a beautiful healthy son,” she said quietly, her hazel eyes shining with unshed tears and love.
Mac beheld the face of her son. All emotional and physical pain evaporated. In that moment she forgave Alicia and welcomed and wholly embraced her fierce love for Stowe.
The timer went off and Mac blinked her damp eyes.I could cry over him anytime.She shook her head and smiled to herself as she lifted the slightly undercooked pasta from the cooktop and emptied it into the colander in the sink to drain. Next, she pulled a bowl of crumbled bacon from the fridge, something she kept on hand because she and Stowe added it to all sorts of dishes. Her eyes roved over the vegetables and other ingredients on the counter. The cheese pasta pie was almost ready to be assembled.
Mac placed a large cast-iron skillet on the counter and added butter to the saucepan on one of the front burners, deciding to start the roux after she finished her glass of wine. She was relishing the delicious jammy blueberry and peppery notes when there was loud knocking.
She had locked up after Stowe left for Clint’s house. What a fun night for her son, she thought as she made her way toward the front of the house. A cookout and scavenger hunt in addition to the tent sleepover. He was expanding his circle of friends before starting school next month. God, she was going to miss homeschooling him.
As she drew closer, all Mac could see through the small pane of textured glass at the top of the solid oak door was a dark head. A man. Hm.
“Yes?” she called.
“Mac?”
What the hell?
