Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found) by Ruthie Henrick Page A

anymore.” He was pretty sure he could talk his dad into it, but his mom kept a pretty short leash.
    “Nope, not crossing the warden, champ.” His dad clamped an elbow around his neck and knuckled-rubbed the top of his head. “I want to enjoy my weekend.”
    He ducked out of the fake hug. He liked it a lot, but he didn’t want his dad to think he was a girl. “Yeah, I figured, but it was worth a shot. Can we go to the batting cages next week?” It was good to stay sharp, and his dad was a pretty good coach.
    “Sure thing, champ.”
    His chest had that same puffed up feeling every time his dad called him champ , his special nickname ever since he could remember. His mom always called him something lame, like sweetheart, or honey. “Hey Dad, can I drive? It’s only five miles.”
    “Ah, the question every father of a fifteen-year-old fields regularly. Dream on, champ.” Dad chuckled and swung behind the wheel, gunned the engine and waited for him to buckle in.
     

     
    “Are you sure they’ll hold our reservation?” A couple of schedule snafus—a last minute consult with the lead electrician, final tweaks to the plans for a new office complex—and Ben had them running late.
    “Relax, I called. They said everything’s fine. We should be there by ten.” His phone dinged. Stopped at a red light on the way out of town, his lips thinned as he read his text. He crammed the phone into his shirt pocket.
    Her shoes pried off, she kicked her feet onto the dash. “I’m glad we didn’t put off going north this year.” If she sucked in her stomach and bent forward she could reach the air vent to adjust it. In Sedona they wouldn’t need air conditioning. “I love the fall colors, but I am so ready to cool off for a few days.”
    She slid a glance to the face of her husband. That face was dearer today than when they first met fifteen years ago over pizza. The crow’s feet when he smiled and the grizzle in his beard were something she still wasn’t used to, even if they did radiate character and authority. And sex appeal—she smiled to herself—in a George Clooney sort of way.
    Ben opened his mouth to speak. Snapped it shut in a move that reminded her of Trey’s guppy and then faced her. “Trey could have stayed home alone. He’s old enough not to need a babysitter.”
    “Maddie’s not a babysitter. We’re only making sure Trey doesn’t get into trouble, Ben. I didn’t want to worry about him over the weekend.” She unclenched the fists resting on her lap—a reaction to the guilt trip Trey had been leading her on all week. “Besides, it makes it easier for Maddie to get him to football practice.”
    She didn’t want to argue about this. Trey probably could have stayed by himself. But by the time today rolled around, the idea of not giving in to her son’s pleading was simply a matter of principle. Thankfully Ben remained silent, merely nodded and turned his attention back to the road.
     

     
    The interminable weekend was finally over. She stood on the porch of the ancient Victorian and scanned the yard; let the peace of the quiet afternoon seep into her. The gardens lining the stone walkways valiantly struggled against the warmth of the August sun, but the trees dotting the property still retained their full complement of green. It was still too early in the year for autumn color.
    This weekend with Ben was supposed to be special, a relaxing break from work, away from the punishing heat of the city. Even—and yes, the guilt of it still niggled at her—away from Trey.
    Even now she wasn’t sure what happened. Saturday morning they did a little hiking, a little shopping—everything was fine. But some time during lunch his good mood vanished.
    She’d sat across from Ben at a cloth-covered table, feet whimpering from the miles they’d trekked. “Maggie will love that pottery bowl we found for her.” The server set her Cobb Salad before her. She smiled her thanks. “I hope Trey didn’t give her