Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Olivia
O f all the things I’d anticipated with our new move, Rosie and I being called for a meeting with the principal hadn’t been on that list. Principal Miller leaned heavily on his forearms, the stern expression on his face driving home the seriousness of the situation.
“She’ll be suspended for the rest of today, Thursday, and Friday. She can return next Monday. But let me assure you, Mrs. Hawkins?—”
“Chief Hawkins,” I corrected.
“—this type of behavior will not be tolerated at Newman High School. Another offense of this caliber, and it will mean expulsion.” He was a middle-aged man, starched shirt buttoned up to the collar, his comb-over failing spectacularly to cover the wide swath of scalp that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
“You’re sure my daughter was the only one involved in these drawings being passed around? ”
“Your daughter was the artist, ma’am,” he replied.
I glanced at Rosie, who’d been red-faced and silent during the entirety of this discussion . Just because she was the artist didn’t mean she’d pulled them out and shown anyone, though. Something about this whole situation stunk. “Rosie, did you pass around dirty pictures?”
“What? No, Mom! You know I don’t like showing my drawings.” Her high-pitched wail reverberated off the stark cinderblock walls. And I did know that she was very private about her art, keeping her talent to herself so if she shared something with you, you knew it was special.
“Then tell me what happened. How these pictures, these drawings with your initials on them, came to be passed around the school.”
Principal Miller butted in, “Mrs. Hawkins, we’ve already been through this with Rosa. She’s given her statement.”
I turned to face the idiot before me. “It’s Chief Hawkins, Mr. Miller. I am simply asking if any other children were involved to better understand the whole situation, because this behavior is out of character for my daughter.”
He puffed up his chest, obviously offended. “The bottom line is, we don’t allow pornographic material in the walls of this high school.”
This was going nowhere.
“Understood,” I gritted out. Beside me, Rosie sniffled, and I knew there was more to this story, but this man wasn’t going to listen. We’d just have to deal with the situation as best we could.
We completed the necessary paperwork, and then I marched her frustrating teenage behind out the door and to my SUV. The department vehicle had broken down on the way in that morning and had made me late. I’d just barely returned after juggling multiple meetings when I got the call to come get Rosie.
And to add to the list of super craptastic things, my mother called, saying she was putting my father in a nursing home because his dementia had gotten to be more than she could handle.
I slammed the door and took a few calming breaths before tackling the next thing on the list. The entire week had been a nightmare. My to-do list seemed never ending. Things were piling up and suffocating me, pulling me in multiple directions.
“Mom—”
I lifted my hand to cut her off. Deep breaths weren’t cutting it. I needed a drink. And it was only noon. God help me, I didn’t know what to do with her, with the school, with my job. I backed out of the high school lot and tried to focus.
“Rosa Nell Hawkins,” I said through gritted teeth, “the next words out of your mouth better be ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’”
“But Mom?—”
“No buts. I want the whole story, but right now, I need a cool-off period. You’re going home, and you’re going to do all your classwork. You will not watch TV, and as soon as I get there, that phone belongs to me. The only reason I’m not taking the dang thing with me is because you need to have it in case of emergency.”
Rosie flopped back in her seat, pouting. When we got to the house, she bolted up the sidewalk and slammed the door behind her before I could even climb out of the car. Fine. It was better if we didn’t talk until we both had time to settle down.
I drove to the station, running through the endless things that I’d had to postpone because of that unexpected trip. Why was it that I couldn’t seem to get caught up in this job? I’d expected to be busy, but there seemed to always be something falling through the cracks.
Cathy was on the phone when I walked into the office. I caught her eye as I passed, and her stunned expression made me pause. She turned to fully face me, saying, “Yes, sir. She just walked through the door. Can I place you on a brief hold?” With the touch of her headset, she stood, twisting her hands nervously, and I knew the day had taken another turn.
“What is it?” I demanded, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.
Cathy grimaced, the look so out of place with her normally chipper attitude. “Mayor Smith is on the line with a reminder about some conference that you must attend. It starts tomorrow. In Savannah. He said the organizer wants to know if you have your presentation ready.”
I stood frozen. What conference? What presentation? It felt like a threat. Like a setup.
Behind me, the door opened, and I felt a familiar presence at my back.
“What’s wrong?” Mac’s grumbly voice was right in my ear.
And suddenly, I couldn’t maintain my calm, cool, collected self. Not in his presence, anyway. I smoothed a shaky hand down my shirt, feeling a boulder of stress building between my shoulder blades. Crap was bubbling over fast, and I needed to get a handle on it. First, I’d figure out what Smith was up to. Maybe by the time I got done with him, I’d be able to face Mac. And then I’d figure out what to do about Rosie.
“Put the mayor through to my office, please. Captain Collins, if you’ll excuse me.”
I hurried to my desk as my line rang. “Chief Hawkins. ”
“Chief, I’m surprised I caught you.” The mayor’s jovial voice boomed through my ear. “I heard there was a little hullabaloo down at the high school today.”
His manner was offhand, but something told me he was making a point with his fake friendliness. And why would he have knowledge of anything related to my daughter? Regardless, I was not about to confirm anything, because I didn’t trust the man.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting, sir. How can I help you?” Thankfully, my voice didn’t give me away.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I was just telling your girl that I got an email reminder that the former fire chief was supposed to be delivering a presentation at the ACCG conference this weekend.”
My girl? Cathy wasn’t a girl. And she had a name. I clenched my fist and tried to keep my voice even. “What kind of presentation, sir?”
“Oh, I’m not sure of the details, but I can have my girl send your girl the email, and you can contact them.”
I bit my cheek to keep myself in check. “Thank you. I’ll let Cathy know to expect it.”
“You know, Chief…” During his weighty pause, I imagined him kicking back in his big executive chair, his beefy hands folded over his belly. “Directors within the city government are held to a higher standard, and in this city, the actions of the family members are also under scrutiny.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I counted backward from ten. This son of a biscuit-eater better not be threatening me because my daughter got railroaded at school. I was certain there was more to the story, just like I was certain there was more to this so-called presentation and his utter lack of communication about it.
Even though it went against everything in me to capitulate, instead of biting his head off, I played nice and made my voice sticky sweet when I said, “It’s a great place to work, Mayor. It’s obvious that the leaders of the community work very hard to make it successful.”
“Yes, well. I’m just reminding you that we hold everyone to the utmost highest level of moral representation.”
This self-righteous asshole. I wanted to ask, as defined by whom , but I figured that’d be pushing it. Instead, I steeled my voice. “Thank you for letting me know about the conference. Please do send over the information, and I’ll make it happen.”
I slammed the phone receiver down. It didn’t satisfy the angry riot of emotion swirling through my system, and it didn’t help the overwhelm that was edging over into anxiety.
But it felt good.
If only for a second. Because I already had too much on my plate and now, apparently, had to speak at a conference tomorrow.
I stalked out of my office and headed toward Cathy’s desk. We were reviewing the presentation details, me scanning the email from over her shoulder, when I felt Mac come up behind me.
Why was this a thing with him? How did he manage to sneak up on me like that? And why did my body respond like it was the most natural thing to lean closer to his warmth?
He brushed up against my elbow, and I got a whiff of his cologne, then heard his deep rumble of “Got a minute?” And everything caved in on me. Feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, I turned and met his eyes.
His expression shifted from hard to harder. The muscle in his jaw ticked. Apparently, something in my expression gave away the level of stress I was trying to handle. He grabbed my elbow and ushered me to my office, shutting the door behind us.
He led me to one of the guest chairs, then crouched before me.
“Talk, Livvie.”
Maybe it was the old nickname that broke through. Maybe it was just Mac being Mac. Whatever it was, once the truth started, I was helpless to stop the word vomit and was mortified to find my eyes stinging.
“It feels like Mayor Smith is trying to sabotage me. The police chief keeps avoiding my calls, and I know there is something up with the arson investigation. My mom called and had to put my dad in a nursing home today. And Rosie got suspended. And now I have to go out of town, and I don’t have anyone to stay with her, but I also can’t take her with me, because if the mayor finds out, he’ll use it against me. And I have to give a presentation that I’m pretty sure is going to be used as a test for Smith to pass judgment on me, and suddenly, it feels like everything is falling apart and everyone is out to get me.”
Through my diatribe, Mac’s frown intensified. “Tell me about the Rosie part.”
A huge sigh escaped as I deflated. “Apparently, she’s been drawing some erotica, and it got distributed around school.” I couldn’t even believe the words as I said them, but I’d absolutely seen it with my own eyes.
The line of his jaw shifted as if he might be gritting his teeth. He looked positively furious. I just didn’t know who or what he was furious about.
“She’s suspended tomorrow and Friday. She can stay home during the day alone, but I’m not comfortable going out of town and leaving her. And she can’t come with me, because this conference is closed, with no guests allowed because, apparently, there is some major political bigwig coming. I would’ve called my parents to come stay with her, but my mom just put my dad in a nursing home, and she’s got enough on her plate. Plus, I don’t have time to get Rosie there and make it back to the conference.”
That was enough to bring on the threat of tears again, but I clamped down my emotions. Crying wouldn’t solve anything, and right now, I needed focus and direction. I blinked rapidly, concentrating on the bare wall behind Mac until the feeling abated.
“What about her dad?” he asked softly, snatching my attention even as his words froze my insides, as the day took another unexpected turn. Now was not the time for this discussion, not that there ever was a good time to let a man know he had a fourteen-year-old handful of a daughter.
We’d only known each other that one week, but I’d been reminded of him daily over the years. Had regretted my stupid decisions and mourned the loss of that chemistry and connection we’d had. In the early weeks and months, I’d written him love letters, wishing I could find him so that he might know the wonderful child he’d helped create. Even as I’d married another man, Mac had still held part of my heart.
I should try to avoid the question, should find a better way to out this truth. But looking into the face of the man who’d meant so much to me, words failed me. I couldn’t lie to him. As I stared into his deep eyes, the world tumbled and fell away. Instead of Chief and Captain, we’d tunneled into a space where we were Livvie and Mac, and the outside world didn’t exist .
“Mac…” I willed him to understand the words I knew I needed to say but somehow couldn’t force out.
His head dropped on a gust of breath as if I’d hit him across the chest. The full impact of the unspoken truth lay between us.
He knelt, bowed before me, his big shoulders nearly trembling. He knew about Rosie. Or at least he’d suspected. Reaching for him, covering his hand that gripped my knee, allowing myself to touch this man as if no years had separated us, felt as natural and right and necessary as my next breath.
Shame. Hot, blinding shame coursed through me, and I pulled my hand away. I had no right to touch him. No right to comfort, not when I was the cause of this pain.
I was the worst person in the world for not finding him, for denying him the child he deserved to know. I hated myself for all that he’d lost.
I waited silently, twisting the turquoise ring that matched my daughter’s, needing the connection to her, because everything from this moment forward would change.
“She’s got my eyes.” He spoke to the floor, his voice guttural, raspier than I’d ever heard it, as if he’d had to push the words out.
My chin trembled as I whispered, “I know.” Those eyes had been my constant reminder and endless torment of the man I’d fallen for so long ago.
“And the same sandy-blond hair I had as a kid.” Maybe he was allowing me time to adjust to this truth. Maybe he was waiting on me to say something. Maybe he’d deliver another blow to the day. “She’s come to visit me. Nearly every day for the past week or more,” he said slowly.
I braced for the righteous anger that I deserved. Instead, the quiet rasp of his chuckle skated across my frayed nerves, leaving behind a warm tingle. “She’s given me every line under the sun about why she comes over. She says she comes to check on my dog.”
“She’s always wanted one.” My voice trembled as I studied my hands.
“But she knows who I am. And she comes to see me, and it makes me think she wants to know me.” Was that a tinge of hope in his voice?
“She does.”
Silence filled the room while the truth of that sank in. I was terrified of where this could lead—with either of them hating me, what could happen if he tried to take her away from me. But denying them a relationship wasn’t fair to either of them when they both clearly wanted one.
“Is that a problem for you?”
Any other time, with any other man, maybe it would’ve been. Instead, I shook my head. I couldn’t stop this train, didn’t want to.
“Then I have a possible solution to part of your issue. I’m off until next Monday. Why doesn’t she go with me to my lake house. She can get out of town, get her bearings. You can do your conference. I’ve got plenty of room. It won’t be a problem.”
“I don’t know, Mac. You guys don’t even know each other.”
“Then how about this, let’s ask her what she wants to do. If she wants to hang here, then I can do that too. But let’s ask her how she feels before just negating the offer.”
He was so confident, so compassionate and considerate. Just as I remembered. And it felt good to have support offered without argument or negotiation. Although Tim had made it a point in the early years to be supportive, as our marriage began to fail, he’d stopped being as available for Rosie, something she felt. And here was Mac, with his calm, steady presence, making things less stressful without my having to ask for anything.
Taking this step and allowing him into our lives was dangerous. For one, I didn’t want Rosie to get hurt. Two, that old flame had never really gone out, and every time I looked at Mac or even thought about him, it flickered to life a little more. But other than my messed-up emotions, I didn’t have a reason to deny Rosie this opportunity to know her father.
“Okay, why don’t you come for dinner, and we’ll talk it over more.”
We settled on a time, and Mac left, never discussing whatever had brought him in. He’d just witnessed me having an epic meltdown and stepped in. And, somehow, had made things better.
The next few hours flew by as Cathy and I worked on my presentation before she adjusted my schedule for the rest of the week to account for last-minute travel. I didn’t have the time or capacity to think about Mac and Rosie again until I was driving home.
I should’ve been somewhat relieved over the latest turn of events. But deep down, I knew things would get worse, and my concern started to spiral.
“Why are you acting so weird, Mom?”
I hadn’t yet told Rosie that Mac was coming over—or asked her about the apparently daily trips to his house—because I was too distracted with getting dinner ready and worrying over all the other things that had happened throughout the day.
The Mother of the Year Award was definitely not coming to me if I kept putting off these hard conversations, though.
“We’re having a dinner guest.” I paused and forcibly relaxed my shoulders.
A knock sounded at the door. Rosie watched me, her brows drawn together like she was trying to figure out who, or what, to expect before going to answer it. Her subdued greeting was faint, followed by Mac’s deep voice as they greeted each other in the entryway.
“Mom,” Rosie called as she led Mac into the kitchen. I didn’t miss the slight wobble in her voice. “Um, Mac is here.”
I turned the burner off, giving the chicken and rice a last stir. “Good, he’s right on time,” I said matter-of-factly. “Grab some plates and let’s eat.”
Panic blossomed across my adventurous daughter’s features. I gave her my best mom-eye, the one that said you’re busted . The girl was snared in a web of her own design as she realized she’d been caught in her little game of sneaking off to Mac’s.
“Hi, Mac,” I greeted, watching the pot to make sure the rice mixture didn’t stick. The evening was awkward enough without me burning dinner. “Please, come in and have a seat.” I glanced in his direction. Mistake.
He was entirely too handsome standing there awkwardly in the doorway. He’d dressed for the occasion. His salt-and-pepper hair combed neatly, a fresh shave, new dark jeans, crisp light-blue button-down shirt, tattoos peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves.
My heart flipped over.
Mac had dressed for a date with his daughter and was nervous .
He surveyed the small table for four. “Where do you want me?”
The question was innocent enough, except my dirty mind had derailed at the sight of the most perfectly fitted jeans ever made. My mind flashed to a dozen different images of where I could want Mac. Pressed up against me, pinning me to the wall. Under me as I straddled him at the table. Leaning over me, his weight delicious and heavy bearing into me.
Heat scorched across my entire face. I gestured toward one of the chairs and croaked, “There’s fine.”
Rosie’s hands shook as she set the table. I turned back to the stove, trying to both hide from my dirty thoughts and suppress the smile that threatened.
Did I like seeing my daughter so distressed? No.
Was it sweet that he’d shown up and was trying to impress? Yes.
Did my kid deserve a little stress after going behind my back? Yes.
I didn’t even know where Mac lived. How had she found out?
My own nerves were back, fluttering in my belly. I still wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go.
An awkward silence filled the room, and I glanced over my shoulder. Mac had a hand on the back of a chair, watching as Rosie meticulously set the table, stiff-shouldered and avoiding his gaze as she laid out the silverware.
This awkwardness was my doing. I dug for the courage to face the two of them, face the long years of failure and guilt, and lay all of the truth out in the open.
“Okay, supper’s ready.”
They dropped into seats across from each other like they’d been playing a game of musical chairs, and I’d just turned the song off.
“I wish I had a fancy serving dish, but we’ve not made it that far in restocking,” I explained, spooning heaping piles of food onto their plates.
Mac waited until I’d taken my seat, then said, “This looks good.”
It did, in fact, not look good. It looked like a soupy, cheap meal.
“It looks like mash. Mom, why is it so soupy?” Rosie complained, and just like that, things were back to semi-normal.
“It’s a little… juicier than normal. I think I added the milk twice,” I admitted. “In my defense, I was nervous and easily distracted. At least it didn’t stick this time.”
“Fun fact, Mom is a terrible cook,” Rosie told Mac. “Except for breakfast. She rocks breakfast.”
Thanks, kid . Nothing like a teenage daughter to spill the embarrassing stuff. “Since you fired the first shot, dear daughter, let’s talk about your day at school. Why are you drawing pornography?”
Rosie immediately went into argument mode. “It’s artistic depictions from romance novels. It’s not erotica or porn.”
Mac choked on a mouthful.
“It was enough to get you suspended, whatever it is, and it got me in trouble at work too.”
Mac’s head snapped in my direction, but I ignored him and added, “So walk me through everything that happened, Rosa Nell.”
Rosie slumped in her seat, fork clattering to her plate, and heaved a beleaguered sigh like it was so hard being a fourteen-year-old kid. “My art class is doing this pencil technique. It’s probably got some fancy name, but anyway, our homework was to depict a scene from a book. I did the homework from a Harry Potter book. But I liked it so much, I decided to see if I could draw something else. I grabbed a book from your stack and read it to pick a scene. So, if anything, it’s your fault for reading books about horny blue aliens.”
Oh. My. God. She did not just say that. I was going to die of mortification on the spot. Keel over right in my plate. Did my daughter care? Nope.
“So it’s just as much your fault as mine,” she continued, heedless of my last wishes. “But also, you know I don’t share my drawings. I think someone snuck into my notebook and snapped pictures and then sent them to everyone.”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at the man next to me. He’d gone still, hadn’t spoken a word. The words horny and erotic bounced around the room like they’d been blasted from a bullhorn, reverberating off the walls. He shifted in his seat, the rough denim of his jeans scraping across my bare skin as our knees bumped in the small space.
My chair screeched on the floor as I shot up. Jesus Christ, I was losing all capacity to function. “We forgot drinks. I’m thirsty.” Yeah, no shit after the knee touch and talk about erotica, and I would not be thinking about the positions my daughter had drawn and imagining Mac.
“Yeah, I could use a drink,” Mac said. Was his voice strained, or was it my imagination?
“Sorry. I got all nervous when you got here and forgot. And um, why are you here, Mac?” Rosie, bless her heart, stepped in, innocently dispersing the sexual tension and bringing us back to the whole reason for this dinner.
I stole a moment, hiding behind the freezer door, both to cool my face and to gather my wits. And my courage. Mac was silent, and it was my place to start telling the truth. “I invited Mac so that we could talk through some things. I think you know what they are.” I busied myself filling the glasses and passing them out. So much easier to have this conversation if I didn’t have to sit under his laser-beam gaze.
But with all my stall tactics out of the way, I rejoined the table and looked my daughter in the eye. Best to just rip off the band-aid. “Years ago, Mac and I met on vacation. We had a fling, and I came home with a souvenir.”
“Me.” She knew this part of the story.
“Right. Except, Mac didn’t know about you. And now that he does, we can move forward. And the two of you can decide if you like each other.”
My daughter looked at Mac with her whole heart in her eyes. What would I do if I lost her in this process? She’d never gazed at me with that much love on her face. Just like me, she was gone for the man, probably from the moment she’d met him. Had I messed up so completely by not looking harder? Or continuing to look through the years? By not taking all the steps she had to find him?
“Also? I’m sorry,” I blurted, heat rising in my cheeks. I’d raised Rosie to be honest in all things, so now it was time for me to own my mistakes. I gathered my courage and looked at Mac, then her. “I just need to say the words. I’m sorry. I failed you both, and I hope you can forgive me.” I hated the wobble in my voice.
Rosie stared at me wide-eyed. It was rare that I let her see me as anything other than strong and capable.
Mac grunted like I’d punched him in the chest. “Moving forward, Liv.”
And that was that.
“So, moving forward, does that mean we can be friends, Mac?” Rosie asked with all the hope a young girl could feel lacing the word “friends.”
“Yeah, Rosie. And we’re gonna start with you coming to hang out, not in secret anymore, with me at my house at Lake Martin while your mom goes to a conference for a couple of days. If you’re cool with it.”
“You’ve got a lake house?” Her eyes lit.
Mac nodded and dug into the food on his plate. Rosie was right, it did look gross. And he was being such a gentleman, making a point to eat the meal I’d prepared.
“Bought it with my dad a long time ago,” he told her. “Meant to be a place for us to fix up together, and then he and Mom would live there after he retired. Something we could keep in the family and pass down. Got plenty of space, so you’ll have your own room.”
“That’s cool. Will they be there? I’d get to meet them?”
Sorrow clouded his gaze as he stilled and looked at her. “No, kiddo,” he said softly. “They passed away before they could ever enjoy it.” The muscle of his jaw clenched as he paused. “But they would’ve loved you.”
Add another to the list of people I’d failed. More guilt burned through me.
Rosie pushed her food around on her plate. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” he replied softly. “This picture situation the one we talked about with the mean girls?”
“Yeah.”
Mac nodded in understanding. They’d clearly discussed her feelings over the situation, something I was going to have to come to terms with. They were allowed to have that, even if I didn’t like being left out.
“So,” Rosie shifted gears again, “what are we going to do at the lake house? ”
“I dunno. I’ve got some projects to work on, and you can help. Always got projects going over there. It’s a work in progress.”
From there, the conversation shifted to what Rosie would need for the weekend. Mac said he’d handle getting her, and before long, they were making their plans, while I sat by as an observer to this fast friendship they had formed.
All thoughts of suspension, schoolgirl issues, and dirty pictures forgiven and forgotten.
This was what moving forward looked like with him.
I decided I’d have to also let go of the issue with the school, because he’d helped her resolve the root issue. She was serving her punishment, and if art was her creative outlet, I wanted to support her. But I would make it a point to be more responsible with my reading material until I could have more in-depth discussions about sex. Not that I was a good role model for having responsible sex.
I played bystander while they made plans to spend time together, my heart cracking just a little in the process. And if I was honest, a little jealous, because their plans sounded like a lot more fun than a public-safety conference.
But by the time Mac left, I was at least comfortable with the idea of letting her go. And even more certain that them getting to know each other was the right thing, even if it was hard to accept.