He nodded and bent his head to his plate.
Molly reached out and squeezed Cait’s hand. The gesture was quick; she didn’t even look at her, and made no effort to prolong the moment. But she had to say thank you.
Then her eyes met Richard’s and she saw a tangle of emotion in his dark eyes as complex as what she felt. But he smiled, and she saw he meant it.
“I’m glad you decided to play basketball,” Molly said, cutting turkey on her plate.
Trevor mumbled something.
“What?”
“Some of the guys aren’t that glad.”
“Because you’re beating one of them out for a position.”
“Yeah.” He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “They’ve been a team. You know? I haven’t even been practicing, and now here I am.” He shrugged.
“Is it definite you’ll be starting Tuesday?” his father asked.
“That’s what Coach says.”
“Do you mind if I come? Or would you rather I didn’t?” Richard’s tone was careful, neutral.
Once again Trevor shrugged. “It’s an away game.”
“Not that far.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Good.” Richard smiled. “What about you, Molly? Do you go to games?”
“All home ones.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
Both the kids stared at them. Molly glanced at her daughter. “Cait, do you plan to go?”
“If I do, I’ll take the bus.”
“Do you mind…?”
“Why would I?”
They both knew why. Having your mom attending all official social events wouldn’t thrill any teenager.
But Molly smiled at both Richard and Trevor. “Then yes. I’d love to see Trevor play. And it would be fabulous if the team could beat Snohomish right out of the gate. We always lose to them.”
“That’s what Coach says.” Trevor reached with new enthusiasm for the bowl of dressing. “They can’t be that good.”
“It’s a way bigger high school than ours.”
“The team’s okay,” he said. “I think we have a good chance.” He stole a look at Cait. “It’s too bad you’re not a cheerleader.”
Wow. Would she have made it through the season? Basketball ended in early February—assuming West Fork didn’t make it to the playoffs. Which they usually didn’t, but they’d come close last year. Trevor might make the difference. That would extend the season well into Cait’s fifth month of pregnancy. No, Molly realized, it was lucky Cait hadn’t succumbed to her friends’ pleas and gone out for the squad.
“I like dance better,” Cait said, but subdued.
After a moment of silence—they were probably all calculating how pregnant she’d be—Trevor spoke. “You’ll come to the game, anyway, won’t you?”
Her chin was high, but her eyes showed vulnerability. “What difference does it make? You have friends.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Really? That’s not how it looked to me at Halloween.”
He gave a hunted glance at Molly and Richard. “I was mad.”
“You mean, pawing Ashley was for my benefit?” Any vulnerability had been replaced by sparks.
“Yeah.” He sounded and looked freaked. “Kind of. I mean, maybe.”
“Does she know that?”
“Well, not exactly. I didn’t say… And it’s not like we, you know…”
Before Cait could get her mouth opened, Molly lifted a hand. “Whoa. Can you two continue this somewhere else? Some other time? It’s way more than I want to know. And probably more than Trevor’s father wants to know, either.” Although she couldn’t be sure of that. What was inducing panic in her was the realization that Trevor might actually still like Cait. Love her? No, they were too young. Ridiculously young. But…think of the complications if they resumed their relationship. Imagined they really were in love. Talked about a future.
No, no, no.
Cait snorted, an indelicate sound. Trevor looked embarrassingly relieved. Richard, Molly saw with narrowed eyes, was amused. His kid wasn’t fifteen years old. Although surely the last thing he’d want was his kid losing the chance to go to college, just as he had.
Somehow or other, conversation found less dangerous paths, and the meal ended more pleasantly than it had begun. They all agreed to wait a little before they had pie. Richard offered to help clean up and gave his son the evil eye until he offered, too.
“If you’ll help me, why don’t we let these two off the hook? The kitchen isn’t big enough for four,” said Molly.