Home to Hart's Crossing (30 page)

“They stayed home this morning, Miss Hart. Patti was feeling a bit run-down and wanted to rest.”

“Oh? I hope she isn’t catching that bug that’s been going around. Francine Hunter was sick last week and has been coughing up a storm ever since. Tell Patti I’ll pray for her.”

Pray for us both. We need it.
“I will.”

Her brows drew together. “You look a little peaked yourself. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he lied. “I’m fine.” He pushed open the glass door and motioned her through.

“Well, all right then.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Be sure to tell Patti that she can call on me if she needs a hand with the little ones. I’m a good babysitter.”

“Thanks, Miss Hart. I’ll tell her.”

They said their farewells on the sidewalk before turning in different directions, Al headed for the parking lot, Till Hart walking home as she always did in nice weather.

He made it to his car without running into others who might want to pass the time of day. Thankful for that
not wanting to feel more of a hypocrite than he already did
he slipped into the red Spider, then sat there, hands on the steering wheel, not wanting to go home yet, not sure what he would say to Patti when he got there.

Maybe a drive would help clear his head.

He started the engine, left the parking lot, and followed the road out of Hart’s Crossing, picking up speed as he reached the main highway. The wind felt good in his hair, and for a time, he thought of nothing except the way the sports car hugged the road. But eventually, he remembered why he took the drive in the first place. To figure things out. To figure Patti out.

He’d driven several miles into the mountains by the time he slowed the car and turned off the road at a lookout point. He parked near the Idaho highway historical marker and got out, walking to the metal railing that overlooked the valley.

Figure out Patti.

Was that even possible? Could a man really understand a woman? He used to think he could, but lately…

He thought back to their honeymoon. They’d planned their wedding to coincide with the beginning of spring break and had left the next day for a week in Hawaii. Each night, they took long walks on the beach, holding hands, sharing their hopes and dreams for the future. Even when they said nothing, it seemed they were in communion with each other.

When had that stopped? When had he stopped knowing what she wanted before she asked? It seemed to him it was about the same time that he started waking up in the middle of the night, wondering how he could make his paycheck stretch another week, wondering if their credit was going to end up in ruins. Or worse. He tried to make Patti understand without letting her know how worried he was. He tried, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. They never talked about money these days. They fought over it.

How could he make things better? They never should have bought that house. Not after Patti lost her editing job. Not when they were about to start a family with two babies at once. Oh, their finances looked tight but okay on paper. But most of the time, he felt like he couldn’t breathe when his thoughts turned to money.

He shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. He’d come up here to think about Patti, and where were his thoughts? Back on their finances instead. Only maybe the two were tied together.

He loved his wife. He wanted her to be happy all the time, not just now and then. He wanted her to laugh the way she used to. He wanted her to look at him with trust, with eyes that said, “I know you’ll never hurt or disappoint me.”

How do I make that happen, God? How?

* * *

A twin in each arm, Patti glanced at the mantel clock in the living room, turned, and walked back to the kitchen. The clock on the stove said the same thing: 1:37.

Where was Al? He should have been home more than an hour ago.

She paced to the living room window and stared out at the street.

This wasn’t like him, not to come home, not to call if delayed. Even when he was angry with her, he wasn’t the thoughtless sort. He was dependable, the type of man who did what he said he would do, who checked his day planner so he never missed an appointment, and who kept the budget in a spreadsheet so the bills were paid on time. She liked those qualities about him. He made her feel safe.

Her own father had none of those qualities. Soon after he left her mother, her dad had moved away from Hart’s Crossing. Phone calls dwindled from once a month to once a year to an occasional birthday or Christmas. He didn’t make it to Patti and Al’s wedding.

Weston started to fuss, an outward expression of his mother’s inward feelings. With a soft moan, she turned from the window and carried the babies toward the stairs. Her right foot was on the bottom step when she heard the garage door open. She turned toward the kitchen. A moment later, Al came into view.

Where were you? Why didn’t you call me?

“Sorry I didn’t come straight home. I…I went for a drive. I needed time to think.”

She pictured Cassandra, placing her fingers against Al’s wrist. “What about?” Her heart raced. Maybe she didn’t want to hear his answer.

“About why we fight so much when neither one of us wants to.”

Her heart stopped racing. It hardly seemed to beat at all. “Did you figure it out?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “I was taking the twins upstairs. Their diapers need to be changed, and Wes is getting hungry.”

“Here.” Al moved toward her. “I’ll help you.” He took Weston into his arms.

What should she say to him? Was it better to talk or be silent? She wasn’t sure. She used to be sure about everything. Now nothing seemed certain.

She turned and ascended the stairs, Al following right behind. They entered the master bedroom, took identical changing mats, baby wipes, and disposable diapers from the small bureau near the bassinets, then placed the mats and babies on the floor and knelt beside them.

“Miss Hart asked about you after the service,” Al said. “She said to call her if you need a babysitter.”

Here it was. The golden opportunity to tell him about her extravagant purchase.

“Al, I…” She swallowed, searching for the words.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we
can
use Miss Hart sometime. I…I’ve decided to give the babies a bottle every now and then. So I don’t have to be with them for every feeding. Not formula, though.”

Tell him. Tell him the whole truth.

She glanced up, and the words stuck in her throat. He looked as uncertain as she felt. He didn’t want to fight, and neither did she.

Tomorrow would be soon enough. She would tell him tomorrow.

Chapter 7

SOMEHOW, ONE DAY BECAME two, which became three, which became more, and still Patti didn’t tell Al about the charge on the credit card. Why make waves when they were getting along?

But her reprieve couldn’t last forever. The credit card bill would arrive one of these days. Delaying would only make things worse. Unless she could get a little help. And there was only one person she could ask.

Early on Friday morning, she picked up the phone and dialed, punching in the extension when asked for it.

“Janet Alexander.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Patti?”

“Sorry to call you at work.”

“That’s all right, dear. Let me close my office door.” There was the sound of movement from the other end of the line. “There. Now tell me. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. You know how it is in Hart’s Crossing. One day’s pretty much like another. The twins are growing like weeds, and Al and I are both well even though there’s a virus or the flu or something going around since school started.”

“Are you getting more rest?”

“Yes. The twins are sleeping longer stretches at night. Not all the way through but almost.”

“Good. That’s always a relief.”

Patti chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Mom…you know how you told me that I needed to get out more? You know, have a breather from the babies, see a movie, go to the diner.”

“Of course I remember.”

“I haven’t been able to yet, but I decided to start feeding the babies sometimes from a bottle so they’ll get used to it. Then we can hire a sitter, and Al and I can go out together. Only we’re both against the idea of using formula.” Her words came faster. “Anyway, I was looking around online, and I found this breast pump that all the mothers rave about, so I ordered it. It’s absolutely the perfect thing. It’s making a huge difference. Only”—she drew a quick breath
“I need a little help with the cost of it.”

“How much?”

Her voice lowered. “Three hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred dollars? My gracious, Patricia Ann. It must be made of pure gold.”

“No.” She choked on a sob. “It isn’t.”

“Patti? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Everything.”

“Take a deep breath, honey.”

Patti wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so tired of crying, Mom. I feel like such a baby. I’m trying to make a nice home for Al and the twins. I love them so much. But it seems like I can’t do anything right. Al and I have been fighting a lot. Mostly about money.”

Her mother was silent for a while before saying, “Did you argue about the three hundred dollars?”

“Not yet.”

“You haven’t told him you bought it?”

“No.”

“Oh, honey. Keeping secrets isn’t good for a marriage.”

Patti stared out the window at the backyard. “I know. And it won’t be a secret for long because the credit card statement is about due.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “Will you help me, Mom? If you lend me the money, I’ll pay you back a little each month.”

She hated the silence that followed. She could imagine the wheels turning in her mom’s head as she debated the pros and cons of bailing Patti out of trouble. The amount of money wouldn’t bother her mother. Janet and Doug Alexander lived comfortable lives, and both made good incomes in their respective careers. Her mom’s concern would be whether or not giving Patti the money was the right thing to do, the best thing to do.

At last, the silence ended.

“I’ll give you the money, dear, on one condition. Actually, several conditions. First, you tell Al what you did. No more secrets. The two of you need to have a serious conversation about your finances and then live within the boundaries. Second, if you two are fighting as much as you say you are, you need to consider counseling. Two people can love each other and still need help learning to communicate. There is no shame in that. And third, tell your doctor how you’re feeling. Maybe the problem is more than lack of sleep or a need to get out of the house a bit more.”

Patti didn’t protest the conditions her mom set. She had no right to protest. Besides, it was good advice. Even in her emotional state she recognized that. “Okay.”

“I’ll put the check in the mail today.”

“Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it. Really.”

“I know, dear. I love you very much. You take care of yourself, and give my love to Al and the babies.”

“I will. I love you too. Bye.”

“Good-bye.”