Too Good to Be True(94)

“Don’t tell me what do to, old woman,” Mom muttered back, knowing full well that Mémé was too deaf to hear.

“So why’d ya leave accounting?” Dad asked. Cripes, he was like a dog with a bone.

“Maybe we can stop interrogating Cal for now, hmm?” I suggested sharply. Cal had grown very still next to me.

Dad shot me a wounded look. “Pudding, I’m just trying to figure out why someone would trade in a nice secure job so he could do manual labor all day.”

“It’s an honest question,” Andrew seconded.

Ah. Honest. The key word. I closed my eyes. Here it comes, I thought. I was right.

Callahan let go of my hand. “I was convicted for embezzling over a million dollars,” he stated evenly. “I lost my accounting license and served nineteen months at a federal prison in Virginia. I got out two months ago.” He looked at my father, then my mother, then Andrew. “Any other questions?”

“You’re a convict?” Mémé said, craning her bony neck to look at Cal. “I knew it.”

BY THE TIME THE GALLERY SHOW was over, I had managed to tell my family about Cal’s situation. Granted, I did a piss-poor job, given that I was completely unprepared. I’d been planning to figure out something a bit more convincing than It’s not as bad as it sounds…Plus, Margs had abandoned me, saying there was an emergency at work and she wouldn’t be home till midnight at the earliest.

“Happy?” I asked Callahan, getting into the car and buckling myself in with considerable vigor.

“Grace, it’s best to be honest right up front,” he said, his face a bit stony.

“Well, you got your way.”

“Listen,” he said, not starting the car. “I’m sorry if it was uncomfortable for you. But your family should know.”

“And I was going to tell them! Just not tonight.”

He looked at me for a long minute. “It felt like lying.”

“It wasn’t lying! It was introducing the idea bit by bit. Going slow. Considering the feelings of others, that’s all.”

We sat in the idle car, staring ahead. My throat was tight, my hands felt hot. One thing was clear. I was going to be spending a lot of time on the phone for the next day or so.

“Grace,” Callahan said quietly, “are you sure you want to be with me?”

I sputtered. “Cal, I shot myself in the foot for you this week. I told the headmaster of my school that I was dating you! I’m taking you to my sister’s wedding! I just don’t think you need to walk around with a scarlet letter tattooed on your forehead, that’s all!”

“Did you want me to lie to your dad?” he asked.

“No! I just…I wanted to finesse this, that’s all. I know my family, Cal. I just wanted to ease them into the idea of your past. Instead, you went in with guns blazing.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

“Why? Do you have a brain tumor? Are there bloodhounds tracking you at this very moment? Is an alien spaceship coming to abduct you?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” he answered drily.

“So. I’m a little…mad. That’s all. I just…Listen, let’s go home. I have to make some calls. And I should stay at my place tonight,” I said.

“Grace,” he began.

“Cal, I probably have twenty messages on my machine already. I have to correct the final essays for my sophomores and post all my classes’ grades by next Friday. I still haven’t heard about the chairmanship thing.

I’m stressing. I just need a little alone time. Okay?”

“Okay.” He started the car, and we drove home in silence. When we pulled in my driveway, I jumped out of the car.

“Good night,” he said, getting out.

“Good night,” I answered, starting up the walk. Then I turned around, went back and kissed him. Once. Another time. A third. “I’m just a little tense,” I reminded him in a gentler voice, finally pulling back.

“Okay. Very cute, too,” he said.

“Save it, bub,” I answered, squeezing his hand.

“I just couldn’t out and out lie, honey,” he added, looking at the ground.

Hard to be mad at a guy for that. “I understand,” I said. Angus yarped from inside. “But I really do have to work now.”

“Right.” He kissed my cheek and walked over to his place. With a sigh, I went inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A FEW HOURS LATER WHEN my parents had been called (if not soothed) and my schoolwork was done, I found myself once again staring over at Cal’s house from my darkened living room.

When I told Dr. Stanton about Callahan this week, I’d done it with the idea that Callahan would be part of my future. It was funny. A couple of months ago, when I pictured the man I’d end up with, I was still picturing Andrew.

Oh, not his face…it wasn’t that obvious. But so many of his qualities. His soft voice, gentle sense of humor, his intelligence, even his flaws, like how inept he was at changing tires or unclogging a sink. Now, though…I smiled.

Callahan O’ Shea could change a tire. He could probably hot-wire an entire car.

I stroked Angus’s head, earning a little doggy moan in response and a love bite to my thumb. When I was alone with Callahan, I was crazy about him. When his past came into my narrow little world of teaching and family …things were a little harder. But as Cal had pointed out, at least it was done now. Everyone knew. No more parceling out of information. There was something to be said for that.