To Be a Dad. Kate Kelly
of his jacket pocket and started writing. “The wood’s full of rot. It’s gotta go. And those carpets are gross. Some of that new click flooring would clean this room up, and it’s not expensive.” He stopped writing and smirked at his brother. “Best of all, you can install it yourself.”
Great. How was he supposed to fit in reno work during lobster-fishing season? He was on his boat twelve hours a day because of the high tides. Collina got close to fifty-foot tides locally, five times higher than the rest of the Atlantic coast. Most ports along the bay drained out with the tide and filled up when the water rolled back in. Once he went out on the rising tide, he couldn’t return until the tide rose again. It wasn’t easy fishing on the Bay of Fundy, but it was one of the richest fishing grounds on the east coast of Canada. Plus, he’d grown up working on the bay and knew its moods and the riches beneath its surface.
Cal gave Dusty’s shoulder a brotherly punch. “I’ll help when and where I can. So will Pops. Matter of fact, we’ll have to watch how much he does. The doc says he still has to be careful. Heart attacks at his age are no picnic. I imagine Adam will lend a hand, too.”
Cal continued talking as he wandered into the kitchen. “This is where you’re going to need my expertise. Plywood cupboards went out with the sixties.”
“Right.” A ball of iron settled in Dusty’s stomach as he eyed the rust stains in the old white enamel sink. “Where the hell do I start?”
“I’ll go through the house and make a list of what needs to be done right away. If you want to get any renos done, you’re going to have to make room in here. I suggest you start carting everything out,” Cal said.
Dusty looked around, bewildered. “Everything? I just moved in.”
Cal took his elbow and pointed him toward the mountain of empties sitting by his kitchen door. “You moved in months ago. You’ve got to clean this crap out of here. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”
Dusty welcomed the straightforward work of hauling what was basically trash out of his house. Maybe he had let things get a little out of control around the house. The work prevented him from thinking about his real problem. Teressa. In one way or another, Teressa had been a problem forever.
He was crazy about her, and he couldn’t stand her. That was maybe putting things too strongly. But she came with so many problems attached, she scared him. First, the kids, and—okay, he liked kids well enough. But man, kids that didn’t go home at the end of the day? He worked hard, and when he got home he liked to kick back, drink a few brewskies and watch a game if it was hockey season or hang out with his pals. If Teressa lived with him—and face it, she had to move somewhere because where she was now wasn’t big enough even without the baby, and if there was a baby—she wouldn’t tolerate a bunch of guys hanging around.
He stashed an armload of empties in the back of his truck, pulled out his cell phone and checked that it was turned on. If he and Teressa had a kid he wanted to take care of it. His mom had died when he was young, but Pops had been a great dad. Still was. Not wanting to worry him, Dusty hadn’t told his father about the baby yet.
If there was a baby.
On top of the kids—and don’t get him started on the other fathers—there was Teressa. He sat on the tailgate of his truck and stared off into space. She was crazy sexy. If they had all these kids and babies and things, they’d never have time for sex again. That just plain sucked.
As for getting married and building a life together? Loveless marriages worked sometimes, didn’t they? His own parents’ marriage may well have been a marriage without love. His mother had died in a car accident while running away with her lover when he was thirteen years old. It had hurt like hell knowing his mom didn’t love him enough to stay, but now, looking at the tragedy, he realized Pops must have suffered the most of all.
If he married Teressa, and she screwed around on him because she didn’t love him, he didn’t think he could handle it. He’d always assumed he’d get married someday, preferably to a sweet woman who was crazy about him and liked having a fisherman for a husband. Teressa didn’t think much of his job or of him, or Collina as far as that went. She’d never stopped dreaming of moving away. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere but Collina and working on the water.
The only thing they had going for them was their friendship. Teressa was a good enough friend that she didn’t mind telling him off when he needed it. Like when Pops had his heart attack and Dusty had unraveled. Teressa pointed out that it wasn’t about him and told him to grow up and think about Pops. Her little speech had been exactly what he’d needed to ground him. She almost always gave him what he seemed to need, whether it was a slap up the side of the head, or a good laugh, or the ear of a good friend.
“Hey, bonehead. This is your mess, not mine. Get the lead out,” Cal called from the doorway of the house as he ambled toward Dusty.
Dusty pushed away from the tailgate. “How do you suppose people have sex if there are all these kids around?”
Cal grinned. “They don’t. Ever again.” He pounded Dusty on the back. “That’s good, considering how easily Teressa gets pregnant. I can see it now, you two and twenty kids.”
“Not funny.”
“Sorry. Tell you what. If you and Teressa do hook up, Anita and I will take your kids for a night here and there.”
His kids. Jesus.
“You okay? You look like you’re going to hurl.”
No, he wasn’t okay. He may never be okay again. What did he think he was doing? There were days when Teressa acted like she didn’t even like him. And there were days when she pissed him off royally.
He’d been waiting half his life to make love to her, and when the opportunity suddenly presented itself a few weeks ago the last thing on his mind had been birth control. If she was pregnant, what did that mean? Would he be expected to marry her and inherit an entire family? Did he even want a family right now? He was so mixed up, he felt as if his head was going to explode.
“You need to talk, Dusty?” Cal looked concerned.
Dusty shook his head. “I can’t think straight. I like Teressa, but she drives me nuts. I even like kids, and her kids are great, but that doesn’t mean I want an instant family.”
Cal frowned. “You’re not going to want to hear this, but I’ve gotta tell you, bro, like is not going to be enough to get you through the rough times. I love Anita, I’d die for her, and still sometimes I can’t breathe and have to get out of the house and away from her. I know this is a lot to take in, and you have my full sympathy, but you and Teressa have to sit down and talk. I think you, not Anita, should be over there holding her hand right now. I tried telling Anita that, but she’s got ideas of her own these days. Why don’t you go?”
“Right now?” What if Teressa wouldn’t let him in the house?
“Tell Anita I could use her help here.”
“You’re probably right. I should be with Teressa.” He remained glued to the spot.
“About time. Good luck, bro. Call later if you need to talk.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Cal.” Dusty climbed into his truck and started the engine and backed out of his yard. He concentrated on the road in front of him, feeling as if he was one step removed from everything around him. No more avoiding the truth. The hour of doom had arrived. Time to pay the piper. Man, he wasn’t going to hurl, was he? For damned sure he made himself sick.
Think of Teressa. Think of what she’s going through. He swallowed the acid in his throat, rolled down the window and sucked in a lungful of cold November air. This was Teressa. They’d known each other forever, and they’d work things out. Everything was going to be all right.
Maybe.