Mixed Blessings (6 page)

Her shoulders drooped with relief. “Other than yesterday, he's been in the dark, and he was too upset then to catch on.”

Peter grinned. “Luke thinks
aunt
is part of my sisters' names, so ‘Auntie Sandy' didn't hit his radar screen at all. So far, so good, right?”

She nodded.

“I saw your grocery list on the table. When Sandy
comes back with Ricky, why don't we all go do the marketing together?”

A tiny sparkle of humor glinted in her eyes. “Are you that desperate for coffee?”

Relieved that she'd recovered enough to tease him, he chuckled. “I will be by lunchtime.”

“Hmm. Addicted to caffeine?”

He propped the basket against his thigh and held up the other hand in a gesture of mock surrender. “I plead guilty. I'm pathetic. I love coffee—any kind of coffee—as long as it isn't decaffeinated. In fact, while I'm confessing my darkest secrets, you may as well hear it straight from me—I'm just as bad when it comes to pie. I'll eat anything served in a pie tin.”

“Anything?”

“Up 'til now. You name it, I've probably tried it.”

She cocked her head to the side and assessed him slowly. “Baked beans from a campfire?”

He perked up. “Do you like to camp?”

“Love to. I already bought Ricky a little backpack. We strap it on him, and he wears it around so he can carry a tiny bit of gear when I take him to Yosemite.”

“I love Yosemite.”

“My goal is to take him on a trip when he turns five. By then, Sandy will be out on her own and independent, so we can slip off without too much concern. Ricky enjoys going on walks, and he'd love to see the flowers and squirrels.” She paused, then added, “By that point, I have no doubt he'll be able to swim and climb trees. Besides, he's a trouper when it comes to walking. He doesn't often ask me to carry him anymore.”

“Just as well. He's a pretty good-sized tyke.” He smiled. “I used to do serious, backwoods survival hiking
a couple of times a year. Since I lost Darlene, I stick to safer hobbies.”

Her hands fisted tightly. “Everything changes, doesn't it?”

Peter set down the basket. Her hair looked as baby soft and fine as Luke's. Though the same color as Luke's, her eyes held the haunted cast of someone who suffered terrible heartache. He knew he'd only made her hurt more by being insensitive, and it bothered him. He wanted her to know he cared, and that he shared some of those same lonely feelings. Reaching over, he slowly took her fist into his hand and gently unknotted it as he spoke. “With a little one underfoot, you have to keep going, even when you feel like you can't make it another minute more.”

“Did you feel that way?”

“Sometimes I still do,” he confessed. “I'm lucky to have a household staff. They ease things considerably. I can't figure out how you get everything done.”

“I don't. Just look around you!” Marie pulled her hand free and flung her arm in an arc to encompass the room.

“You're too hard on yourself.”

A tense moment passed. Their lives and opinions differed so dramatically, bridging the gulf seemed almost insurmountable. She glanced at the front door. “Ricky and Sandy ought to be home any minute.”

“Marie, I want us to get together each weekend and on holidays until we settle the details.” Peter lowered himself into a battered leather chair and looked at her carefully. “How about if we alternate weekends? I'd expect Sandy to join you when you come up to my place.”

The expression on her face made his stomach flip. “What is it?”

She shook her head. “It won't work.”

“Ricky's room is big enough for Luke to share.”

“You'd let him spend the night here with me?”

His mind whirled. “Why not? I'd be here, too.” Something in her expression made him lock eyes with her. “You can't exclude me, Marie.”

“There's nowhere for you to sleep. There are only two bedrooms.”

“You already know I camp. I'd be happy out here on your floor or couch.”

Nervously wetting her lips, she managed to avoid his eyes. “I'm going to have to watch out for you. You have a knack for making impossible things seem reasonable.”

The front door swung open. Sandy and Ricky came in. “I've got a droopy kid here.”

“Luke's sleeping on Ricky's bed,” Peter realized aloud as he crossed the room to hoist his son off Sandy's lap.

“I gots two beds.” Ricky tried to hold up a pair of fingers but didn't quite manage the necessary coordination. After they put him on his nap mat on the trundle, Marie led Peter out of the room and left the door open a mere crack.

She turned to Peter and shook her head. “You talked him out of that shirt.” She referred to the juice-and-cookie-crumb covered Junior Fireman shirt Ricky had been wearing. “I was right—you make the impossible seem reasonable.”

“No, I don't. Otherwise, you'd be packing right now.”

M
arie groaned. “I can't believe I said that to you.”

“We're both raw. I can't see any sense in wasting our energy putting on a big act with each other. I'm not myself right now, either. I'm blurting out stuff and look—I grabbed Luke and jumped on the plane without even calling ahead.”

“So you're not usually this impulsive?”

“The most impulse thing I've done in the recent past is—” He had to pause and think. “Probably to whistle along with something on the radio. From the way I've acted in the last twenty-four hours, you'd never guess I'm the most boring man in the world.”

“You? Boring? Based on your
boring
track record, I wouldn't let you read Ricky a bedtime story. He'd be up all night with nightmares!”

Peter turned the tables on her. “Bet you didn't sleep much last night.”

She hitched her shoulder.

“Go ahead and take a nap.”

“Can't.”

She lowered her lids, and Peter knew full well she was trying to shield him from the emotional tumult in her eyes. “Even if you can't sleep, rest a little. Sandy is able to hold down the fort.”

Peter shepherded Marie to the door of the master bedroom. The room looked off balance. A cherrywood dresser stood to the extreme side on one wall. Sandy's hospital bed was next to the door, but they'd left enough room for her to maneuver her wheelchair. That left barely enough room for Marie's double bed to be crammed into the remaining space. Even so, both beds had white eyelet dust ruffles and matching mint-and-white striped comforters.

She'd moved everything like puzzle pieces until they fit. It reminded Peter of how complex it would be for her to account for all of the factors in her life. He softened his voice into a rare mildness and said, “We'll work things out in time. If you're worn to a frazzle, it'll complicate matters.”

“They can't get any more complex than this.”

He winked. “Then imagine—they can only improve.”

“Are you usually an optimist, Peter Hallock?”

“I'm a realist.” He resisted the impulse to caress her cheek. “If you come out of here before three o'clock, I'm going to do something drastic.”

“Three!”

“Three.”

“I don't take kindly to threats.”

“I don't make them lightly,” he shot back. “If I shut the door, can Ricky open it?”

“He just learned that stunt.”

“Luke can't—at least, not that I know of—but he's chunky enough that if he bumps into the door a few times,
the latches give. I can see these two are going to teach each other any number of naughty tricks.”

Marie leaned against the doorsill and gave him a jaundiced look. “I'm supposed to sleep after you said that?”

“I'll bet you could sleep through a six-point earthquake once you close your eyes.” He nudged her inside, pulled the door shut and stood on the other side for a minute. He caught himself just before he used the adjective
pretty
when he mentioned her eyes. They were pretty. Beautiful, as a matter of fact. Marie Cadant was a very attractive woman. He rubbed his hand over his jaw and shook his head to clear away those errant thoughts.

Sandy's wheelchair whirred down the hall. She looked at the closed door, at him and then jerked her head toward the living room and spun back around. Once they both got out of Marie's earshot, Sandy warned, “Don't even think of asking to sleep here tonight. When Marie has nightmares, she comes out here to read her Bible. Upset as she is, she's going to be up again tonight.”

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I could keep her company and calm her?”

“Not a chance. The only man who ever got past her guard was Jack.”

“Jack died two years ago,” he said in an equally muted tone.

“In that very room,” Sandy informed him. “She brought him home to die. He was shot in the head.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath.

“The doctor gave him maybe two weeks.” Sandy shook her head. “For three months, Marie tended him and did everything he needed. She was too proud to ask for help, and I was too selfish to think of offering.”

“Sandy—”

She shook her head to cut him off. “I see how hard
she has to work to help me. It must've been ten times harder with Jack. She took care of him all by herself, and Ricky was younger and more dependent.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I swear, Peter Hallock, I'll do anything to protect her. If you hurt her…”

Peter half collapsed on the sofa. He shook his head dumbly. “What it took for her to get through all of that…”

“Don't make it harder on Marie. She can't take anything more. She can't!” Sandy wiped her face with her sleeve.

“How much does Ricky understand?”

Her eyes darkened with pain. “He doesn't remember Jack at all. No matter how bad things are, Marie is always patient with Ricky. He trusts her to be the center of his world, and he depends on her to be stable.”

Staring at a picture on the mantel of Marie holding Ricky, Peter let out a noisy gust of air. “And the earth just shifted in its axis.”

 

When Marie woke up, she felt completely disoriented. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a nap. Her head felt stuffy, and she had a weird kink in her neck. She listened for a minute as she sat on the edge of her bed. The silence unnerved her. She bolted to her feet and flew to the door.

Marie came to a skidding halt at the end of the hall. Sandy was chattering on the telephone. Ricky was nowhere in sight. “Where is he?”

Sandy tilted her head and mouthed, “In the backyard.”

Spinning back around, Marie almost lost traction on the freshly polished hardwood. She regained her balance, darted down the hallway and headed toward the porch. Her impulse was to open the door and shout Ricky's
name, but the sound wouldn't come as she spied them through the window that comprised the upper half of the door.

Peter knelt in the dirt between Luke and Ricky. Their heads were together, glowing in the afternoon sunlight and they all made truck sounds as they played with an assortment of vehicles. Clearly, they were having a wonderful time. Marie carefully opened the door and eased it shut behind herself.

“Okay, speedy guys,” Peter said. “We have a nice, smooth course. Grab your cars. We're going to race now.”

“My fire truck is fast,” Ricky boasted.

“Yeah, tiger, I'll bet you're the fastest thing around here.” Peter must have sensed Marie's presence, because he turned toward her, winked and said, “I'll bet we're all the dirtiest things around here, too.”

“Dirt washes off,” Marie said softly.

“Daddy, I want to race!” Luke yanked on Peter's arm.

“Me, too!” Ricky zoomed his fire truck across a dirt path.

“Hang on, boys.” He stood up and dusted his knees. “Did you have plans, Marie?”

She watched the uncertain look in Peter's eye and she felt a surge of generosity. If she and Peter were ever going to work out this mess and get along, she would have to allow him to get to know Ricky. “Go ahead and have fun. I've got a few things to do inside. You boys behave yourselves and have a good time.”

Peter's face split into a beaming smile. “We'll do our best.”

Marie went back inside and searched for the grocery list. “Sandy, have you seen—”

“Peter went to the grocery store while you and the boys
napped. The man's hopeless. I haven't seen more junk food in a month of Sundays. Want a cookie?”

“No, thanks.” She snooped in the pantry and tilted her head. The cans and boxes were all ones she would have chosen. “How did he know what to buy?”

“He asked me about brands and stuff. He's pretty nice when he calms down.”

“There's dim praise.”

“Raffy dropped by and took care of the bathtub drain. He used some pretty colorful language in front of Ricky, so don't be surprised if he suddenly spouts off a few choice phrases.”

Marie sighed. “Thanks for the warning.” A tiny surge of relief washed over her. The Blue Wall still stood strong, and Jack's friends on the force hadn't stopped watching over her and Ricky. Though she appreciated their help and knew they'd bailed her out of several costly repairs by doing the work as a favor, Marie still struggled when they dropped by. Often they came right after work, but if they were assigned to the beat with her tract, they knew she had an open-door policy. Two of the guys showed up and built the ramp for Sandy the day she arrived, just so she wouldn't have to come and go out the back door. A week later, during the first rain of the season, one of them had been on duty and stopped off to be sure the ramp wouldn't be too slick. The sight of a man in the same uniform Jack had worn made her miss him that much more.

Sandy broke through her sad thoughts. “Are you going to ask Peter to stay for supper?”

“I don't have much of a choice, Sandy. He's got a right to see Ricky. If I get prickly, then he won't let me see Luke.”

“He and Luke are a package deal.” Sandy glanced to
ward the backyard where the boys both cheered about something. “But it looks like he's a good dad, Marie. Not many men are that clever with kids.”

Marie dug through her freezer and took out another package of pork chops. She'd already started thawing a package this morning, before he and Luke pulled their surprise arrival.
And it's turned out to be a pleasant surprise so far. Lord, I asked You to keep Your hand over this. Please don't let go.

A little while later, Marie returned to the backyard. She couldn't stay away. As she walked toward the dirt pile, Peter held his hand up and pushed his palm toward her. “Better keep your distance, ma'am. Men at work here. Grubby, filthy men.”

“Mommy, I'm dirty!” Ricky brushed off the firefighter emblem on his shirt and smeared the dirt more. He didn't look repentant in the least; he looked downright proud of his grimy hands.

“Me, too!” Luke held out his hands for inspection.

“I can see that. Your boss is almost as big of a mess as you are.”

Marie let Peter continue to play with them as she weeded and pruned. He'd come over, swipe some of her clippings and go “plant” them in the dirt pile to provide landscape for the city and racetrack he and they boys were making. Marie mentally corrected herself. He was constructing; the boys were wrecking havoc on whatever their little cars and trucks encountered.

The very low-key ordinariness of the late afternoon helped her tremendously. In the midst of such an upheaval, the fact that simple everyday play and chores still carried on gave a measure of sanity to her precarious world.

When the boys' interest finally flagged, Marie decided,
“Let's get you cleaned up.” She held the hose while they all splashed, squished and rinsed. She swiped at a smudge on Luke's cheek. “You have dirt here.”

“Do this.” Peter demonstrated cupping his hands, filling them with water, and making a bubbling sound as he stuck his face in, then scrubbed his cheeks.

Both boys laughed.

Marie watched in amusement as both boys used Peter's technique to “wash” their faces. Both of them got more water on their shoes than on their faces.

As they headed into the house, Marie felt a flicker of hope. If this was a true example of how Peter and the boys got along, with a lot of time and effort, they might be able to arrive at a workable solution.

 

As they finished supper, Peter winked at Marie. “Luke likes bedtime stories. What about Rick?”

Clearly, he remembered what she'd said about him boring her son into nightmares with his bedtime stories. She called, “Ricky, get your book and take it to Aunt Sandy.”
There. Took care of that.

Ricky grabbed his Bible storybook and climbed onto Sandy's lap. Luke tentatively tiptoed over, and at Ricky's invitation, he scrambled up and joined them. She read to them as Marie and Peter washed the dishes. Luke nodded off before the story was over.

The way Peter snatched up Ricky after things were done almost shattered Marie's heart. He did it so naturally, but the move showed a thirst to make and foster a budding connection—a connection that would be for keeps. She closed her eyes at that thought. For keeps…he wanted his son. He wanted Ricky, not just for a few moments or a little pal, but as his very own, under his roof, in his heart
and for a lifetime. She couldn't blame him, but she couldn't give in, either.

Marie opened her eyes again and watched Peter. Strong, yet gentle, he clutched Ricky to himself with a fierceness that defied words. The mixture of love and anguish on his face made Marie turn and walk away. In the few moments she'd held Luke, she'd fallen head over heels in love; so she knew she couldn't expect Peter to care any less for his own biological son, even if it caused her these moments of soul-deep torment.

Marie quietly slipped Luke into the upper bed of the trundle, then readied the lower mattress for Ricky. Peter's low chuckle blended with Ricky's delighted squeals. Airplane noises and more peals of laughter filtered through the door. “Do it again!”

Marie's head bowed in a moment of pain. Jack would have loved to hear those words.
I can't keep living in the past or wish for what might have been.
She finally summoned enough of a voice to call, “Bedtime, Ricky.”

Peter held Ricky securely around the torso and legs and “flew” him into the room like an airplane. They came directly to the bedside. Instead of putting him down, Peter turned Ricky, gave him a big hug then settled him into Marie's arms. Smiling at her, he whispered, “Do you say night-night prayers, too?”

“Uh-huh,” Ricky said, “Mommy helps.”

Peter knelt down next to Marie and wedged Ricky between them. “Okay.”

Marie slanted him a strained look and decided not to make an issue of his presence. He'd already handed Ricky back. As astute as he was, surely Peter intended it as a signal of his awareness that she was still in charge. She started the prayer, and Ricky quickly joined in, “Now I lay me down to sleep…”