To Catch A Cheat Part 28

"Yes," Mona said, still glowing with happiness. How long would that last? "Third time's a charm."

"This is your third time to marry?" Speedy asked. "Or your third time to marry him?"

"Both," Mona said. "This was the first time we eloped, though." She looked past Coleman to view Trent, handsome as ever, sitting in the chair and waiting for this odd little scenario to end. "You're Trent."

"Yes, ma'am." Trent stood and extended his hand. She wrapped both of her palms around it and held it tight. "You really are a nice young man, aren't you?"

"I try."

"h.e.l.lo, son, I'm Daniel Kincaid, Rissi's-I mean Marissa's-father." He also extended a hand. Retrieving the one Mona had captured, Trent gave Marissa's father a firm, business shake.

"What do you know, we have newlyweds and a family reunion and a proclamation of love, all in one show," Speedy said. "We should call Oprah."

"A proclamation of love?" Mona asked, her head turning to view Marissa and Trent.

The round camera lenses zoomed in, snake eyes sizing up prey.

"Trent told Marissa that he loves her," Speedy relayed, "and we're waiting for Marissa's response."

"Well, technically," Coleman corrected, "we're asking the two of them if they want to continue seeing each other, or if they want the prize, a seven-figure multimedia ad campaign. That's a mighty nice prize," he said. "And may cause one to really consider whether he or she is in love."

"You're not seriously trying to talk him out of it, are you?" Speedy asked his partner. "Because it sounded like he meant it to me."

"I did," Trent said. "And, like I said earlier this week, I don't want the prize. I want Marissa."

"Ohhhhh," Mona moaned, her lip trembling as she stepped closer to Marissa's father. Her new husband. The guy who had cheated so long ago, and then again, and would probably continue the pattern.

Marissa's heart stilled in her chest. She couldn't look at them. She s.h.i.+fted in her chair to look at something else, and saw Trent. She looked away; she couldn't look at him either. Seconds ticked by. Cameras zoomed.

"He doesn't want the prize," Coleman repeated. His tan, golfer's face formed several thick creases as he smiled, believing he knew what her response would be. "Marissa, how about you?"

"I-" She took another glance at her mother, practically drooling over the distinctive presence of Daniel Kincaid. The man whose promises she believed, always, no matter what. The man who hurt and cheated again and again, and the man she couldn't stop loving, because he was her first, and her only, love. Marissa wanted to hate him, but she couldn't; he was her father, and she couldn't get past that to hate him. She loved him, too. They all loved him, and it didn't matter. He hurt them all, again and again. Because that's what cheaters do.

"He said he wants you," Speedy repeated, as though she hadn't heard Trent at all. "He doesn't want the prize."

"I'm sorry," Marissa said, locking eyes with Coleman, so she didn't have to see her mother, or her father, or Trent. "I understand he doesn't want the prize, but I do."

In adulthood, there are times when familial roles are reversed. The child a.s.sumes the role of caregiver, and the parent a.s.sumes the role of dependent. However, there are times when, even if the parents have relinquished the role of caregiver, they need to step up to the plate and do their jobs once more. Now is one of those times.

-MONA K KINCAID

Chapter 24.

The backseat of her father's Lexus SUV was probably plenty big enough for hauling whatever he needed on a daily basis, but currently, with all of his and Mona's luggage, as well as Marissa's suitcase, and Marissa, packed within its boundaries, the s.p.a.ce was rather cramped. Add to that her mother's continual neck swivel and bless-her-heart smile, and Marissa felt a bout of carsickness gearing up. And she didn't even know she got carsick, but evidently, she did.

"I thought you went to Branson on a bus," Marissa said.

Mona cleared her throat guiltily. "Well, if you'll remember, I said the seniors were going to Branson on a bus. I went to Branson, but I didn't ride with the seniors. We rode together." She moved her hand across to stroke the back of her husband's head, then she let her fingers twirl in the pale waves ending at his neck. Marissa's father had great hair, and Mona had always been a sucker for it. She still was, obviously. Mona's hair was also gray, but hers had that silver thing going, where Daniel's was Kenny Rogers white.

Marissa attempted to inhale extra air, since there seemed to be too little of it in the backseat. "And I thought Amy was picking me up," she said, watching the buildings lining I-285 fly by the window. Her stomach churned. It was not smart to watch buildings flying by, not with so little air.

"I called Amy to find out how to get to the apartment where you were staying, and she said she was going to pick you up. Since I thought you'd want to-talk-your father and I offered to pick you up instead." Mona did her neck swivel to see Marissa's reaction, and obviously got more than she bargained for. "Oh, my, you're green."

"Yeah." It was all Marissa could manage. Was she sick because of the car? Maybe. Or was she sick because she'd just turned down and humiliated the first guy she ever really loved, and the very first one who professed to love her back, on live TV and radio? Definitely.

"Daniel, get off at the next exit," Mona instructed.

He nodded, accelerated, and the car quickly veered up a ramp off the interstate. Marissa tried to remember if there was some sort of technique to breathing. In and out, in and out. Yeah, that was it. But the new-car smell of the Lexus was creeping into the mix, and she really didn't think she was going to make it much longer before she christened Daniel Kincaid's latest retirement perk with this morning's breakfast. Wait. She hadn't eaten breakfast. Or dinner last night. Or anything since yesterday morning's bread pudding. Oh, well, nothing like dry heaves to make your day complete. Her stomach pitched, as though telling her that was exactly what was about to happen.

"Daniel, pull in right there!" Mona demanded, and again, he obeyed. Well, what do you know, some things do change.

The car rolled to a stop, and Marissa fell out. Literally. She was on the ground before Mona had time to circle the car and see her daughter crawl to the curb, then immediately put her head between her knees.

"There you go, baby. Take deep breaths. Heavens, I should have let you sit up front. I never realized that you get carsick. You never did when you were little."

"I never have, until now." Marissa breathed in the warm July air and quickly began feeling normal. In, out. Nice, clean air. No new-car smell. This was good.

"It isn't the car, is it?" Mona asked, sitting beside Marissa on the curb and waving Daniel back into the SUV when he tried to approach. "We can handle this," she said, and again, he nodded, and got back into the car.

Was this really Marissa's father? Or some twin uncle Marissa didn't know about who didn't mind listening to his wife and doing what she asked, twice in one day?

"It's Trent," Mona continued. "You love him, don't you?"

"Yes." Easy question. Easy answer. The fact that she loved him wasn't up for debate. Whether she could trust a guy who might be like the man currently driving her across Atlanta was another story.

"Then why did you let him go, honey?" Mona asked, sincerity etched across her face. Amazing that this was the same woman who undeniably had had one champagne too many last night.

"No hangover?" Marissa asked, choosing that subject over the one her mother had initiated.

"It's bizarre, but I've never had a hangover on a night I had s.e.x. I think all of the expended energy must counteract the effects of the alcohol, or something."

This was said with such a matter-of-factness that Marissa didn't know whether to point out the eww eww factor of hearing that her parents had had s.e.x last night or to discuss the possibility of s.e.x reducing the chances of a hangover. Neither really seemed like an option Marissa wanted to take. Luckily, Mona kept talking without waiting for input. factor of hearing that her parents had had s.e.x last night or to discuss the possibility of s.e.x reducing the chances of a hangover. Neither really seemed like an option Marissa wanted to take. Luckily, Mona kept talking without waiting for input.

"Do you think you can get back into the car for a block? I know where I want to go. I'll let you ride up front, if that will help."

"Okay." Marissa got up and wobbled around the car, then let her mother help her in.

"Better?" her father asked, as she buckled her seatbelt, adjusted the air vent to blow directly on her face, and settled in.

"Yeah, better." She smiled at him. He did care about her, and Mona, too, for that matter. Marissa never had doubted that. The problem was that, occasionally, he cared about other women, too, way too much.

"Honey, make a right. I'll show you where to go," Mona said, getting in behind her husband.

He did as he was told, again, and then waited for her next instruction.

"Right there. Pull in and park, please," Mona said, and he did. She leaned over the seat and kissed him on the cheek. "Would you mind taking a drive or going to a nearby store or something for fifteen minutes or so? I believe we need to have a little time for girl talk."

He smiled, kissed her on the lips, then nodded. "Sure, dear."

"And when you get back, we'll swap, and the two of you can chat."

His face lost a tad of color at that, but again, he nodded. "You're right. That's definitely in order."

Marissa opened the door and was pleasantly surprised that she could stand on her own two feet without the least bit of wobble. Then she saw the red-and-white-striped awning and grinned. "Bruster's."

"Best ice cream around," Mona said. "Do you think you can eat some, with your queasy stomach?"

"I can always eat Bruster's," Marissa said, and oddly enough, her stomach did feel better, ready for ice cream. Bruster's had been a major source of comfort when she was a kid. Great report card? Head to Bruster's for cherry vanilla. Skinned your knee? Bruster's banana chocolate chip would fix you right up.

"What flavor?" Mona asked, nearing a side window of the old-fas.h.i.+oned ice cream stand.

"Hmm," Marissa pondered aloud as she read the large billboard of over thirty unique treats. What kind would help you feel better after you turned down the guy you love in front of most of Atlanta? "White chocolate turtle." No, it wouldn't fix things, but it couldn't hurt.

"White chocolate turtle in a waffle cone," Mona said. "And I'll take a banana split."

Within minutes, mother and daughter were sitting at an umbrella-covered picnic table and eating ice cream the way they had many years ago. Marissa licked hers and sighed at the way the caramel teased her tongue. It reminded her of . . . caramel apple ma.s.sage oil.

"Thinking about him, huh?" Mona asked, ever watchful of her daughter's every move and every expression.

Marissa nodded, and took a bite of the cone. This felt rather strange, having her mother appear to take care of her again, the way she had so long ago. For the past two decades, their roles had been reversed, with Marissa being the stronger of the two. The realization that they'd switched places again sent a lump directly to Marissa's throat, and it had nothing to do with the ice cream. A single tear pushed forward and trickled from her right eye. Mona reached out and wiped it away.

"Why didn't you tell him, honey?" she asked, merely moving the banana split around with her spoon. This wasn't about her, after all.

This was Marissa's pity party, so she took another big bite of her ice cream . . . and got brain freeze. She put her fingers to her temple and winced.

"Oh, I hate it when that happens," Mona said, sympathetically watching her recover from the ice-cream-induced brain freeze, but continuing with her interrogation. "Okay, honey. Tell me. What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything," Marissa said honestly. "It's what Daddy did, and how often he did it. And the fact that I seem to attract guys who do the same."

Mona nodded knowingly. "I thought that might be it."

"How am I supposed to trust any man not to cheat? And how do you?" There, that that was the kicker. Obviously, it was in Marissa's genes to fall for cheaters, and obviously, it was in her genes to let them walk all over her, time and time again, and take them back. was the kicker. Obviously, it was in Marissa's genes to fall for cheaters, and obviously, it was in her genes to let them walk all over her, time and time again, and take them back.

"I listened to that radio broadcast, when that woman said Trent cheated on her in college," Mona said, and she finally started eating the dessert. "That's what this is about, isn't it? You think the fact that he cheated back then means he'll do it again, and you're basing that on my history with your father."

Marissa swallowed, then nodded.

"So one time he cheated. And he was in college, still playing the field, as they call it," Mona said. "He wasn't married, sweetie."

"How do I know that it wouldn't spill over into marriage-not that he's asked me or anything, but-"

"If he hasn't asked you yet, he will," Mona said, appearing very certain of the fact. She smiled, then dug into the banana split, humming her delight with the medley of chocolate fudge, vanilla ice cream, cherries, and bananas.

Marissa licked her ice cream and stared at her mother, this extremely confident woman who ate ice cream, discussed s.e.x and hangovers, and gave her husband orders. "Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?" Marissa asked.

Mona laughed, in much the same manner as she had last night over the phone, when she was at her wedding reception, or whatever it was. They might have called from a topless bar for all Marissa knew. "I've wanted to tell you about everything for a couple of years, sweetie, but I didn't want to hurt you again. So I waited until I was certain he was in it for real this time, you know, committed and all. He is. Truly."

Marissa's head throbbed. There was a whole lot of information in that little spiel, but one factor well surpa.s.sed all others. "A couple of years?"

"That's how long we've been dating, dear. Oh, I wasn't going to let him just waltz back in and take control anymore. I'm a woman of the twenty-first century, after all. No more of this eighties lady kind of thing for me."

"Eighties?"

"Oh, okay. I guess I was a sixties lady, but eighties sounds better. Anyway, he came back a couple of years ago, wanting to start up in my life and in my bed, and I said no. Flat no. No questions asked. And then, of course, he came back again, and I made him court me, the old-fas.h.i.+oned way. And I made the turkey wait until we got married again until he got me in the sack," she said, while Marissa's eyes popped.

"Mother!"

"Oh, shoot, darling, this doesn't even get close to water-cooler talk at work, and you know it." She smiled. "Anyway, when I told him I was going on the senior center bus trip, and he knew that Vernon McDaily was going-Vern has had his eye on me for some time-he really got his tail feathers ruffled and put his b.u.t.t in gear, and it was high time. I'm not getting any younger, and Amy's toys can only take you so far."

Marissa had no control over the brain freeze that came when that that bit of information hit her ears at the same time a big gulp of ice cream hit her throat. She slapped her head. "Amy's toys?" bit of information hit her ears at the same time a big gulp of ice cream hit her throat. She slapped her head. "Amy's toys?"

"Phffft," Mona said, waving away Marissa's expression. "We're not going to talk about them today, though she's got some really amazing things. Right now we need to talk about you and that hot CEO who professed to all of Atlanta that he loves you and who you turned your nose up at like he was something nasty that you stepped in."

"I didn't," Marissa argued.

"Just telling it the way Atlanta saw it," Mona said, now enthusiastically finis.h.i.+ng her banana split. "I was going to save half of this for your daddy, but I believe he'll have to get his own," she said with a grin.

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"Do you really think Daddy has changed?"

Mona laid her spoon on the edge of the paper boat holding her treat and shrugged. "Honey, I believe he has, and I truly hope that he has. Can I tell you that I'm a hundred percent sure that he won't find a younger model and trade the old one in again? No, maybe not a hundred percent, but I'd say a solid eighty-five now."

"And is that good enough? He hurt you so much last time," Marissa said. And he hurt me. And he hurt me.

"Honey, I didn't go into this with my eyes closed. I know the chances of getting hurt again are there, but you know what, I love that man, and I believe he's worked hard to get me back for the past two years. Last night was beautiful. My dream come true. And if he has changed, and I don't give him a chance, or give myself a chance to really have us back together again, I'd never forgive myself. True love is worth that chance, don't you think?"

Marissa didn't answer, because a car horn right behind her caused her to turn and see Daniel Kincaid, climbing from his SUV.

"My turn?" he asked, approaching the table cautiously.

Mona nodded. "Well, shoot, I guess he'll get half of it after all," she whispered with a wink. Then she turned toward him. "I saved you half of my split, baby!"

Marissa giggled. Who would have known? Her mother took a while to find it, but she'd definitely located her sa.s.s.

"I'm going to hope that smile is a good thing," he said, sitting beside Mona and giving her a sweet peck on the cheek.