What a Man's Gotta Do by Karen Templeton Page B

onto the plate before getting up from the chair and striding over to the back door. His hands rammed in his back pockets, he stared out the paned glass at the driving sleet. “I never had to live on the streets, if that’s what you mean.”
    â€œBut…?”
    Silence yawned between them as he obviously wrestled with how much more to say. “But I can’t say as I’d ever had what you’d call a real home, either.”
    Mala studied her cup of coffee for several seconds, debating how far to push. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the dog prance over to him and plop its tiny behind on his booted foot. She now watched as Eddie leaned down and scooped the puppy up to nestle against his chest, a smile teasing his lips as the wriggling mutt’s tongue darted out to lick his chin.
    â€œAnd what’s to prevent you from having one now?” she said at last.
    He turned, his expression bemused. “You know, I’ve never yet met a woman who didn’t think, given enough time, she could domesticate me.”
    At that, Mala let out a laugh. “Hey, I got all I can handle just trying to civilize my kids. Trust me—you’re in no danger from me.”
    â€œMaybe it’s you who’s in danger from me.”
    Her heart jolted. “Meaning?”
    His eyes never left hers, even as his fingers methodically scratched behind the pup’s ears. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve been in a woman’s company as long as I’ve been in yours tonight?”
    Irritation knifed through her. “Yeah, well, nobody’s tied you down. You got intimacy issues, the door’s right over there.”
    â€œThis has nothing to do with intimacy issues, Miz Oprah.” His obvious frustration stopped her short. “And God knows, I’m not into dredging up memories, but…” He let the pup down, then raked a hand through his hair, his features contorted with obvious conflict. His hand slapped back to his side, his eyes searing into hers.
    â€œMy father took off before I was born,” he said. “My mother’s parents kicked her out, I gather, and it wasn’t until I was nearly born that my great-grandmother, who was living in Austin at the time, apparently took pity on her and took her in. Except they fought all the time, and it seemed like every week, Mama’d be draggin’ me off to some motel or somethin’ in the middle of the night, only to drag me back to her grandmother’s the next day. But then Mama died when I was six, her folks were already gone, too, and I guess my great-grandmother decided she had better things to do with her life than worry over six-year-old boys. So she sent me off to Long-view to live with some cousin or other who eventually got tired of me, too, and sent me on to someone else. To make a long story short, for most of my childhood, I got passed from relative to relative like a Christmas fruitcake.”
    The bluntness, the brevity of his accounting didn’t fool Mala for a minute. Nor was its significance lost on her. “What aboutyour father? Did you ever hear from him? Do you even know who he—”
    â€œNo.”
    Up to that point, Eddie might have evaded an issue, but Mala would bet her Sara Lee cheesecake he’d never outright lied about it. Now, however, alarms went off, big-time.
    â€œWere you…mistreated?”
    He gave a rueful laugh. “Hell, Mala—you gotta notice somebody before you can mistreat them.”
    â€œOh, Eddie…”
    His eyes blazed. “Don’t. I didn’t tell you because I wanted your sympathy.”
    â€œI didn’t think you had,” she shot back. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to be angry. Why on earth didn’t one of your relatives turn you over to Social Services if taking care of you was such a hardship?”
    Eddie shrugged. “Who knows? Dumb southern pride, maybe. Or else it