Impossible Dreams (14 page)

Sandra narrowed her eyes. “Are you certain Constance
is yours?” she asked coldly. “My daughter wasn’t exactly a
one-man woman when you married.” She stalked out, spine straight, high
heels clicking.

Axell heaved his water bottle across the bar at a row of
whiskey tumblers. The sound of shattering glass didn’t equal the
devastation inside his soul.

***

October, 1945

I’ve gone back there every night this week. I can’t
stay away. She’s all I can think about. I can scarcely concentrate on the
books for seeing her in my head, her red hair sprawled across the pillow, her
white skin pale in the moonlight. I’m not a poetic man, but she makes me
want to sing songs.

I’ve got to stop going there. I’d be ruined if
Dolly’s father found out.

I need someone really bad...are you really bad?

Returning from the kitchen with an assortment of boxes,
including one filled with freshly baked cinnamon rolls, Maya discovered Axell
sitting at his polished bar, sipping an icy drink, a black cloud almost visibly
hovering over his golden head. Her insides did a tumbling number as she
remembered one of too many incidents in her childhood involving bar stools and
alcohol. Then seeing the half-empty bottle of mineral water sitting on the bar,
she breathed easier and approached with firmer tread.

“Drowning our sorrows so early in the day?” she
teased daringly, taking the stool beside him and opening the box of rolls.
After seeing Axell’s human side last night, she couldn’t view him
as an invulnerable paragon any longer. “Sugar is much tastier than
water.” She helped herself to a steaming soft roll, and with a sigh of
ecstasy, sank her teeth into it as she pushed the box in his direction.

Axell took a bun and tore into it like a vicious dog handed
a bone. Maya considered that a sacrilege. She adored cinnamon rolls, even the
kind from a can — which were the only ones she’d known growing up. One
savored cinnamon rolls, not swallowed them whole.

Picking out a plump juicy raisin, she contemplated leaving
this obviously angry man to his tantrum and going on about her business.
Unfortunately, right now, it looked like he
was
her business. Or
Cleo’s, anyway.

“Ticked you off, did she?” she asked
conversationally, licking a particularly sticky cinnamon-coated finger.

A V wrinkled the bridge of Axell’s nose as he glanced
over and caught her childish act.

Beaming in response to his frown, Maya popped another raisin
into her mouth. “Tell me not to play with my food if it makes you feel
better.”

Axell managed a smile of sorts. At least his lips turned up
briefly at the corners. His eyes, however, remained stony cold. His square jaw
had a stuck-out set to it that would have driven Maya into spasms if she
thought it aimed at her. For a change, though, she figured she was innocent.

“Carlos makes those rolls for the staff. I don’t
ever get one unless I go to the kitchen and demand one.” He polished off
the remainder of the sticky bun, and with a defiant gleam, licked his fingers.

Maya grinned. “You’ll notice most of your staff
is female,” she replied.

Axell squinted at her, followed the track of her thoughts
and finally saw its destination. He snorted in appreciation. “The old
billy goat.”

Maya snickered. “Shame on you. He’s a sweet old
man. Shall I go back to packing my boxes or would you care to explain your
serious snit?”

“I don’t have snits,” he snapped, throwing
back the glass of water as if it were whiskey.

“Right, and I don’t have constipation.”
She slid off the stool, and leaving the rest of the rolls to sweeten his
temper, strolled toward the door with her boxes.

“Where the hell do you think you’re
going?” he called after her. “Don’t you ever sit in one place
for three minutes?”

Maya directed a wry look over her shoulder. “Not where
I’m not wanted. I’m perfectly aware I’m a hideous intrusion
in your life, so I’m doing my best to make myself scarce.”

She walked out before Axell could summon a reply. Refusing
to consider Sandra’s insinuations of Constance’s parentage, he
distracted himself by staring at the door from which Maya had shot her parting
volley.

A hideous intrusion? Was that how the gypsy saw herself? He
realized that’s probably how she’d felt most of her life. He
remembered her mentioning she and Cleo had spent a lot of time in foster homes.
What must that have felt like to an uninhibited child like Maya, being shoved
into a stranger’s house, into an established way of life, not knowing the
rules or limits or how long she’d be welcome?

And that’s just exactly what he’d done to her
and Matty — shoved them into a strange situation, and left them to flounder for
themselves. She was good at it, he had to admit. He hated having his orderly
life turned upside down, hated any break in his routine, but she had slid
between all the cracks in his walls and found a niche of her own.

Amazed, Axell poured the rest of the water into his cup,
ignoring the shattered glass behind the bar as determinedly as he ignored
Sandra’s words. Maya and Matty hadn’t once set foot in his wing of
the house. Actually, if he thought about it, they hadn’t set foot
anywhere but their bedroom, the kitchen, and the family room, places he
didn’t particularly consider his turf. They stayed out of sight and sound
when he was home. He didn’t even know when they ate breakfast or how they
got to school. Matty took the bus, presumably.

Damn, but he’d been a blind bastard. Here he’d
been thinking of himself as a humanitarian, when all he offered was another
substitute foster home. He hadn’t thought of either them as walking,
talking human beings with minds and needs of their own.

All right, so he was a piece of shit. Considering he was
actually contemplating safeguarding his license by scratching the mayor’s
back and agreeing to close her school, that was nothing new. Slamming down his
glass, Axell stood up. On second thought, he turned and grabbed the box of
cinnamon rolls.

Watching Maya eat that roll was an experience he
didn’t mind repeating. Remembering his reaction to the kiss she’d
bestowed upon him earlier, he figured his libido was in sorry need of feeding.
He’d have to wait until the teacher moved out before satisfying his
hunger.

* * *

“Bosco,” Matty declared in satisfaction as he
wrapped his arms around the ragged rabbit and literally squeezed the fluffy
pink stuffing out of its many holes.

“Let me guess,” Axell said dryly from atop a
ladder where he was attempting to affix chimes over the door. “It’s
a chocolate rabbit.”

Maya beamed in approval. “I would have opted for
‘Nestle,’ myself, but Cleo is into ancient commercials. I think she
gets them from the oldies station.”

“N-E-S-T-L-E-S, Nestles makes the very best...”
Matty sang almost absently as he rummaged through his box of toys.

“
Chaw-w-klet
,” Constance finished for him
in a deeper voice.

Maya erupted in giggles and Axell glowered down at her.

“Clowns! I’m working with clowns. And remind me
never to meet your sister. The two of you in the same room is likely to be
dangerous to the sanity.” He stuck out his hand. “Give me another
nail.”

Maya sobered as she handed several up to him. “You do
realize this is all her stuff, don’t you? I’m just a place
holder.” As Cleo’s release date grew closer, her anxiety level
climbed. At least Cleo’s last curt note had thanked her for sending
Matty’s artwork.

Axell spoke around the nail he held in his mouth.
“Yeah. So call me stupid.”

“Stupid,” Matty mimicked from below.
“S-T-U-P-I-E-D.”

“
Stew-w-pid
,” Constance intoned.

Maya broke up all over again.

Grinning, Axell hammered the chimes in place. “Who
taught that kid to spell?”

“He’s five years old!” Maya protested.
“He barely even knows his letters yet.”

“He can almost read my Dr. Seuss books,”
Constance said matter-of-factly, opening another box the movers had left
stacked in the middle of the newly waxed shop floor. “Look, the crystal
ball!”

“Don’t play with that stuff, Constance,”
Axell warned as he climbed back down the ladder. “Maya has to tell the
cleaning crew where to put it all.”

“Actually, I think Matty is memorizing the
words,” Maya started to say, but the door swung open as soon as Axell moved
the ladder from in front of it.

“Headley! What the hell are you doing here?”
Axell propped the ladder against the wall and dusted his hands on a rag.

“Hell,” Matty repeated idly, removing one of his
few tattered books from the box. “Hell, bell, well...” He stopped
and pondered a new rhyme.

Maya covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter
since Axell didn’t look particularly happy with Headley’s presence.
She didn’t want to tick him off any more. It was generous of him to take
time off from his restaurant to spend the evening helping her move in. She eyed
the older man warily, knowing who he was by sight. Everyone knew Headley.

The elderly reporter eyed the children and the confusion of
boxes as if they might explode in his face at any minute. He shook out his
soaked umbrella — the rain had continued all night and through the day — and leaned
against it as he observed the contents of the few unpacked boxes. “Same
weird paraphernalia, hmm? Not much call for that stuff around here, is there?”

“That’s what you tracked me down to tell
me?” Axell removed the crystal ball from his daughter’s hands,
swiped it with his dust cloth, and set it inside the glass counter Maya had
cleaned earlier. “There’s actually some pretty good stuff in here.
It just needs the proper display.”

“A clean one,” Maya said dryly, not rising from
her seat on the packing crate as she set another pot of water on the hot plate.
“Would you care for tea? I can’t offer a seat...” She
gestured at the stacks of boxes burying the table and chairs.

“I’ll clear those away for you. The packing
crate is making me nervous.” Axell crossed the room and shifted a box
from one of the ice cream parlor chairs, ignoring the man who had obviously
come to see him.

Headley shifted another box and gallantly extended his hand
to help Maya from her awkward seat. “Miss Alyssum? Jason Headley. Your
name is familiar. Are you from around here?”

Maya shrugged. “So they say, but I don’t
remember the days of infancy.”

Headley grinned. “Anyway, I’ve heard a lot about
you.”

“From Katherine, I suppose,” Axell interjected.
“She exaggerates.”

“
She’s
not the one who calls me
twenty-months pregnant,” Maya pointed out, accepting the reporter’s
hand and exchanging her seat on the crate for the chair.

“Well you are, even if you refuse to act like
it.” Axell glared from her to Headley, than stalked toward the door.
“All right, Headley, let’s take it to the bar. I’m just
getting in the way of the lunatics over here anyway.”

Headley hesitated, glancing at the children digging through
still another box. Maya caught the hesitation immediately.

“Constance, why don’t you help Matty take his
things upstairs? Now that we have furniture again, we’ll be staying here
tonight.”

Matty screamed with delight and raced for the stairs.
Looking uncertain, Constance glanced back and forth between the adults, then
obediently followed with her skinny arms full of toys.

“Does that help, Mr. Headley?” Maya asked as the
children disappeared up the stairs.

The reporter lowered his bulk into the other chair and eyed
her jasmine-scented tea skeptically. “I’m not certain anything
helps, but I thought this might be something you needed to hear, too.” He
glanced at Axell, who stood with arms crossed, lean hip propped against the
glass counter, waiting.

Receiving no prompt to continue, Headley shrugged.
“The police arrested your busboys for possession and sale, Axell. Rumors
are flying that they’re just the flunkies and you’re the bigger
operation. Some people are jealous of the success you’ve made of that
place.”

Even through the gloomy twilight, Maya could see
Axell’s knuckles whiten. She recognized the lines tightening beside his
mouth. He had an enormous capacity for restraining his temper, or diverting it
in strange ways. She didn’t think she wanted to be around when the dam
broke this time. To drain off a little of the pressure, she spoke before Axell
could. “And why did you think I needed to hear this, Mr. Headley?”

“Just Headley, dear. That’s all anyone calls
me.” He shrugged his gray-suited shoulders again. “The connection
is nebulous, but it doesn’t take much in a small town. Your sister was
busted for drugs, Axell is moving her inventory into his building, and
you’re living out at his place. Your sister’s shop attracted a lot
of teenagers. One thing leads to another and tongues are flapping like sheets
in the wind.”

Shocked, Maya couldn’t summon a reply.

“Ralph is after my liquor license,” Axell
explained wearily. “I take that back, he’s killing two birds with
one stone with that rumor. Label us both as druggies and he eliminates any
chances of my running for his job and kills your business along with mine. He
figures you’ll pack up and move out, and then I’ll leave the
Pfeiffer property uncontested. He must have found out that I persuaded one of
the other council members to vote against the access road.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Headley asked
with interest. “I’d wondered.”

“He can’t do that, can he?” Maya asked
with trepidation. She’d lost homes before. Lost parents, dogs, cats, and
every valuable possession she’d owned except for the teacups. But
she’d never been the cause of someone else losing anything. She watched
Axell with growing horror. Surely, this was all just a rumor gone out of hand.