Chances Are
R Ambardar

 

"Is this bench taken, sir?"  With characteristic eleven-year-old directness Kyle addressed a tanned, well-built man sitting by himself. His mother, Patricia, wished he hadn't, but she couldn't do anything about it now.  Kyle, the natural-born boss of his twin brother, Jason, led the way confidently to where the man sat occupying a whole picnic table.

"Er-–no," the man replied and turned sideways to face Patricia and gave mother and son a sparkling grin.

The grin did it for Patricia.  "Kyle–-please.  Sorry to trouble you," she began, turning toward the man.  "We'll find another spot.   Come on, boys."

"No no, it's fine.  Really. Besides, the park benches are all getting filled up. It's almost lunch time."

He had a plate of fish and chips in front of him. "Austin Carpenter. Won't shake hands because they're greasy."

There was something disarming about him.  Still, it did nothing to alleviate the constant reserve that accompanied Patricia like a protective armor since Mark picked up and left her and the boys for his female golf partner..  Despite the smile that stole over Austin's lean features, she had misgivings. Her boys had no business imposing themselves on a man sitting by himself.  They were at it again–-searching for a potential father.

"No–-we couldn't," Patricia began again, pushing her heavy dark hair out of her eyes.

The boys were ravenous and so was she.  They could get their food from the counter, eat it here and then go home.  She glanced at Austin, overcome by her reluctance to share the table with a total stranger.  But it would be crazy to haul away the boys and look for another, when suddenly, finding a table became a maddening game of musical chairs.

"If you're absolutely sure . . ."

"Go ahead, sit down."  A look of nonchalance crossed his face.

"Wait right here till I get the food," she told the boys, now seated on the bench and peering with gregarious curiosity into Austin's plate.  Flushing with embarrassment Patricia hurried away to get the food.  The sooner they ate, the sooner she could get the two monsters out of Austin's face. A few minutes later, Patricia laid out three plates of succulent fish and chips in front of the boys and sat down with them.   She wondered if she should try to make polite conversation in return for Austin's letting them share the picnic table with him. "The fish isn't bad."  Having finished lunch, he wiped his fingers on a napkin. "And talking of fish, the smelt are biting."

"You go fishing?"  Kyle said in a voice of hushed awe.

"Every chance I get. Down to Sandy Point."

Sandy Point.  That was close to where Patricia lived.

"Jason and I go there, but we haven't caught anything." A hint of disappointment seeped into Kyle's voice.

"You just have to know where to go."  He smiled, the corners of his grey-blue eyes crinkling attractively.

Patricia tried not to stare.  But she couldn't stop the question that insidiously infiltrated her mind–-when was the last time she'd enjoyed adult male company, or looked into a pair of eyes like that?  Shame on her!  He could be a homicidal maniac, or child molester, or . . .  With eyes like that?

Jerking herself back to real time, she realized he was talking about Sandy Point.   "You live near there?"

"Just moved in to Pilgrim Estates.  I work for the First National Bank."

"But that's where I work.  Are you one of the new vice presidents who moved to the Home Office from Florida?"  She vaguely remembered hearing about movement at the upper levels of management, but she'd never really paid much attention to it.  As if she didn't have enough to think about already.

"The same one." He grinned.  The next moment a pensive look stole over his face.  "I asked for a transfer up to the Home Office after my divorce."   He glanced at the boys who had wandered off to where a clown did a juggling act.   "I have a daughter a little older than your boys.  I thought she was better off with her mother."

She wouldn't have thought this handsome, well turned-out guy had just gone through a divorce.  "I'm sorry to hear ..."  She wasn't sure she should be sorry for him about something that wasn't her business.

"Thank you."  A smile perked up his lean features.  "I'm glad to know we're colleagues.  And now that we are–-let me say, it's nice to meet you--er  ..."

"Patricia Lloyd."

She had to get out of there--fast.  She was looking for husband material–-again.   She did it with Mark, and look at how she'd bombed.  She had a good job–-not the greatest, but it let her pay the bills, and allowed her to use her alimony for the boys' needs.

"Time to go, boys, Patricia called out.  Picking up their plates she stashed them together to dump them in the nearest can.

"Aw, Mom, couldn't we stay?"

"No."  She felt Austin's intense stare. He probably thought she was a drill sargent and not much of a mother.  And that was another thing.  Since the divorce, her self-confidence had taken a severe blow so that she didn't know if she did anything right.

"Look."  Austin said, grinning at the boys, "if it's okay with you, I can drop them off later.  How's that?"

The boys pranced around with a whoop of joy. "Yes!"

Patricia gave the trio a wry smile.  "Three to one. I'm outnumbered."

"Let's see–-Pilgrim Estates.  Can I trust the boys to give me directions to your place from there?"  Austin stood up and squinted in the noonday glare, looking like some guy in a commercial and making it very difficult for her to concentrate on matters at hand.

"It's 1017 Laurel, once you get to Pilgrim Estates."  She felt a prick of reluctance in taking up Austin on his offer and she didn't know why.  After all, the vice president of the First National couldn't very well make off with two kids he just met.  She recalled the name "Austin Carpenter", now that she remembered the newsletter that she'd seen on her desk. Oor else she'd have vetoed the idea of having the boys dropped off.  "I'd like them back in an hour.  By then, I'll be done with my chores."

"That'll be no problem.  Maybe we ca nbut some cotton candy.and get a boat ride."  He smiled at the boys, who appeared eager to be off with their new-found buddy.

"All right. Have fun."  She turned to leave.

Back at home, she zipped through the laundry, the kitchen cleaning, and washing windows which were caked with sticky hand prints.  It did seem a little easier without having the boys underfoot.

Somewhere between cramming the clothes into the dryer and kicking the oven door shut after spraying it, Patricia noticed that the sky had darkened and a colder than usual wind made its way through the open windows.  A quick glance at her watch showed that it was well passed two o' clock. Where were the boys? Surely, they couldn't still be at the Fest.   Good thing they had their own money from doing the neighbors' yard work, so there wouldn't be the embarrassmen of Austin Carpenter being obliged to pay for the boys' share of whatever they were doing.

Another hour passed before a shiny silver sedan drove up and out tumbled two boys with rain-slick hair plastered over her forehead followed by their chaperone.

"Where were you?"  Patricia tried not to sound like the worried wife with the inevitable nag in her voice.

"We got carried away with the rides, food and the sights. My fault.  I should have brought them home sooner."  Austin looked sheepish, which did nothing to diminish the pull of his good looks.

Patricia knew that wasn't quite true.  Get the boys to a carnival and bringing them home was like pulling teeth without anesthetic.

"Besides, they wanted to bring you a box chocolates."

"Because you've been working late at the office, Mom," Kyle jammed a box of Toblerones into her hands.

A warm glow spread to her face and she felt she might cry.  Patricia turned away and passed a hand over her forehead.

"Why don't I fix dinner for us this evening.  Fried smelt."  She kept her voice as level as she could as she looked at Austin, who seemed to be watching her pensively.  She'd never felt more under display of her feelings than now.  She had to get him out of here before she broke down.  She owed him a dinner for giving her boys a good time and bringing them home, and then they'd be all squared away.

"Thanks."  He smiled. "I'd lke that.  See you later, boys."   He turned around and ran lightly down the front steps to his car.

At five-thirty, the smelt sizzled softly in the pan, while Patricia got the rolls and salad ready.

"Mom, can we go over to Toby's for pizza and rollerblading?"

She poked her head into the living room, a spatula in her hand.  "Don't stay long after dinner just because he lives down the road."

Patricia went back into the kitchen to ponder this. Now she'd be alone with Austin, something she didn't want.  Could she call and cancel saying something had come up?   And have the obligation stare her in the face indefinitely?  No.   Besides, he'd probably be as eager to call it quits after dinner, being one of the big bosses.  Such guys just didn't fraternize with the hired help.

Half an hour later Austin stood at her doorstep holding a bouquet of carnations.   "For you."

She took them and stood aside to let him in.

"Something about the smell of fish cooking that makes things homey."

Austin stepped into the small living room looking completely at ease.

Mark had hated the smell of fish frying.  She wondered if that had driven him away.   "Please help yourself to some wine while I put these in water."

"Where are the boys?"

"They made plans with their friend Toby.  Ready to eat?"

"Famished."

Patricia worked hard to keep the conversation neutral, but after coffee an ominous silence enveloped them.

"Suppose you tell me what's bothering you?" Austin sat on the sofa with his arms stretched out across the back.

"Nothing."  Then why did her voice come out in a squeak?

"Let me have a stab at it.  You're still not over your divorce and

naturally, you're suspicious of every man that comes along."  His voice was resonated with understated wisdom.

"How can you tell?"  Patricia gave a hollow laugh.

"You'll have to tear down the wall sometime."

"The wall?"

"The one you've built around yourself.  And when you do--chances are that you'll find that not every guy is a cad."

"You're sweet."  Patricia got up and removed the coffee cups.   "But you're still the big boss and I . . ."

"I see.  You're a snob."  He injected a lightness to his tone that swept her defences away.

Why couldn't she just enjoy the moment instead of creating rules for herself.   "I'm sorry.  I'm still in the process of adjustment."

"I know all about adjustment.  I'm living it."   He got up and moved toward her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders.  "How about we go for an ice-cream--just like kids."

She smiled.  "I'd love that."

As Austin held the car door open for her she felt as giddy-headed as a teenager on her first date.  For the first time no silent admonition of Mark's lingered in her mind.   She was finally free.

She glanced at Austin's fine-featured profile.  And to think that she'd nearly decided not to go to the Seafood Fest!

 

 

Copyright © 2000 R Ambardar
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"