Page 64 of Mack

“Mom.”

“Women things, Mack. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” She stared at him. “She’s wonderful, by the way. In case you didn’t know.”

“I do know.”

“And that shop. I bought too much. Your father is going to give me a look.”

“He always gives you a look.”

“He does.” She sounded pleased about it. “She’s good for you. I want you to know I think that.”

Mack was quiet for a moment, watching the snow-covered road unspool in his headlights. “Yeah,” he said. “I think so too.”

“Then stop worrying about what I said. Go home and get some rest. You sound tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Then rest. You can call her tomorrow. She likes you, Mack. Any fool could see it.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, honey.” He could still hear her smiling when she hung up.

He drove the rest of the way home in the quiet, the heater running, the snow falling soft in the headlights.

Any fool could see it. He hoped she was right.

He was nearly home when headlights appeared in his rearview mirror, coming up fast. Mack watched them and tapped his brakes. The vehicle backed off. Good. Another few seconds and he’d have hit the lights.

When he turned into his driveway the truck slowed, blew its horn, and drove on. Mack watched it go. He wasn’t sure if that was a thank you or just someone being an ass. Either way he let it go. He was off the clock and too tired to care.

He parked beside the side door, stepped out into the cold, and crossed the porch. Inside he hung his hat and coat, sat on the bench, and pulled his boots off. The house was quiet and warm, and he sat there for a moment just appreciating it.

He hoped the week would move fast. He had a promise to keep to a three-year-old, and he took that seriously.

He pushed up from the bench, went to the laundry room, and stripped off his uniform. Then he padded barefoot through the kitchen and up the stairs.

The shower was hot and he stood under it longer than necessary, letting the day wash off. More snow was expected this week but next week was supposed to warm up, at least for a few days. He was hoping for it. Not summer heat, just fall temperatures, that spot where you weren’t sweating or freezing and it was exactly the right temperature.

He turned off the water, reached for a towel, dried off, and wrapped it around his waist. At the sink he wiped the steam from the mirror, picked up his shaving cream, and shaved.

The following weekend Mack stood on the porch with his coffee and watched Mallory’s Tahoe come up the drive. He set the cup on the railing and walked down the steps before she’d even stopped.

He opened her door, she stepped out, and he kissed her.

“Hi, Mack!” T.J. hollered from the back seat.

Mack opened the rear door. “Hey, little man. Ready to build that snowman?”

“Yep!” T.J. held up a carrot. “Mama gave me the nose.”

“Mama thinks of everything.” Mack glanced back at her over his shoulder and grinned when her cheeks went pink.

He unbuckled T.J., lifted him out, and set him on his feet. The boy immediately took off around the car at full speed.

“T.J.!” Mallory called. “You’ll wear yourself out before you even start.”

“He’s a boy,” Mack said, as if that settled the matter.