Tea and Destiny (2 page)

“If she’s about so high and partial to her thumb, she’s the one,” he acknowledged with a smile that made her stomach do an unexpected flip. “Did I frighten her or something? I asked where her mommy was and she let out a war cry that would have straightened the hair on Hitler’s head.”

Ann struggled with the unfamiliar sensations that continued to rampage through her, decided her panic at Melissa’s scream was to blame and reclaimed a bit of control.

“So that’s it,” she said, satisfied with the explanation for her nervousness and oblivious to Hank’s confusion.

He was regarding her oddly. “That’s what?”

She tried frantically to recall what he’d just said. Something about Melissa’s mother and Hitler? She wasn’t sure what the Nazi connection was, but she understood precisely what had happened when Hank had mentioned the child’s mother.

“I wondered what brought on all the tears. She came in crying about some man.”

“Which explains the butcher knife.”

She glanced down at the weapon she’d grabbed on her way out the door. It was lying at her feet. “Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. In this day and age, I don’t suppose a woman
can be too careful,” he said, reaching down to pick it up. “Since you didn’t use it on me, I gather you’ve decided I’m harmless.”

Harmless?
No less than a pit of vipers. How had she forgotten that he had this strange effect on her? All she’d recalled after the wedding had been his infuriating habit of contradicting every opinion she held.

“Maybe I’d better explain about Melissa’s mother,” she said, clinging to a neutral topic. “The woman abandoned her a year ago, just took off without a word to anyone. A neighbor found Melissa all alone the next day. They say children adjust pretty easily, but Melissa hasn’t. She still wakes up in the middle of the night crying for her mother. Any reminder tends to set her off.”

Professional training kept her tone matter-of-fact, but she still seethed inside when she thought about it. “It’s beyond me how a mother could leave a child all alone like that. Anything could have happened to her. What if there’d been a fire? Good God, can you imagine?” she said, shuddering visibly. “Even waking up and being all alone would be enough to terrify a baby. When the social worker told me about it, I felt like going after the woman myself. No wonder Melissa’s not adjusting.”

Hank muttered what sounded like an indignant curse under his breath, then said, “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I guess I was just thinking of you as her mother.”

“We don’t do a lot of swearing around here,” she warned automatically. “The kids, well, some of them anyway, are at that impressionable age. As for Melissa, she calls me Ann. Some of the kids refer to me as Mother. It all depends on what they’re comfortable with. Since you’re going to be here awhile, I’ll give
you a rundown on each of them, so you’ll understand how they ended up here. The older ones are pretty open about things, but the little ones are still a little sensitive.” She fingered a package of cupcakes, regarded them distastefully and sighed. “Then there’s Jason. He rarely talks at all.”

Hank didn’t seem to notice the fact that she couldn’t shut up. In fact, he looked decidedly uneasy. “How many are there?” he asked, as if he were inquiring about enemy troops just beyond a strategic hill.

“Five. Six. It depends on whether Tracy stays with friends after her classes at the junior college in Key West. Tonight they’re all here. Occasionally one of the kids who used to live here comes back for a visit.”

Hank, a man who struck her as big enough and tough enough to fear nothing, seemed to take a panicky step closer to his truck. He looked as though he wanted to escape. She could relate to the feeling. She’d felt that way since the instant she’d spotted him standing in the yard in faded jeans, a body-hugging T-shirt and sneakers. He hadn’t seemed nearly as devastating in the suits he’d worn the weekend of the wedding.

“I probably won’t see all that much of them,” he said, an edge of desperation in his voice. “I’ll be working pretty long hours.”

She waved aside the objection. “Nonetheless, it’ll be better if you know. Come on in now and I’ll show you around.”

She led him in through the kitchen, simply because it was closest. It was also a mess, as it always was by Sunday night after a weekend of having everyone at home. She saw Hank’s eyes widen at the sight of dishes stacked all over the counter and tried to view the clutter
from the perspective of a bachelor who probably paid a maid to do his housework.

Toys were scattered all over the floor and her papers were strewn across the round oak table that could seat ten easily and usually was surrounded by that many or more, all trying to talk at once. It was chaotic, but she loved the happy confusion. She could understand, though, how it might seem daunting and disorganized to an outsider. She shrugged. He’d just have to get used to it.

“We have cleanup in another hour,” she said, stepping over a toy tank and rolling a tricycle out of their path as she plopped the groceries on top of the stove. “It’s hard to imagine now, but by the time we sit down to dinner, this room will be spotless. Look quick, though, because it’ll only be that way about twenty minutes.”

Hank was still standing uncertainly in the doorway. “Are you sure I’m not putting you out? I know you told Liz it would be okay, but…” He waved a hand around the room. “You seem to have enough on your hands.”

“Can you do your own laundry?”

“Yes, but…”

“Make your own bed?”

“Of course, but…”

“Are you any good at making coffee?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then it’s no problem.”

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ann regretted them. If he wanted to run for his life, she should have let him. She should have encouraged him.

When Liz had first approached her about helping Hank out, she’d been adamantly against it. The man was the epitome of everything she disliked in the male
of the species. He was handsome in some indefinable way that made him all the more dangerous. He had the powerful shoulders and chest of a lumberjack. He managed to have a light tan on slightly freckled skin that by all rights should only turn beet-red in the sun. His hair and beard were a golden shade just shy of red. He had laughing blue eyes that could undress a woman in ten seconds flat, usually before the introductions were completed. He was bold and brash and irritating. His treatment of women had all the finesse of the caveman’s, yet they flocked to do his bidding. With a reaction that was part astonishment, part dismay, she’d observed his effect on them at the wedding.

To top it off, his opinions on most subjects were diametrically opposed to her own. At the rehearsal dinner they’d been barely civil to each other. Their introduction had quickly escalated from hello into an argument about something so inane she couldn’t even recall it now. It might have had something to do with the hors d’oeuvres. Liz had witnessed the clashes with interest, which made her plea to Ann for help all the more unbelievable. Ann realized later it should have made her suspicious at once.

“Think of him as a project,” Liz had challenged. “You’ll have weeks to work on him.”

“I have six kids staying with me, plus a full-time career. I don’t need a project. I need a maid.”

“You need a man.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ann said, just catching on to the direction of her friend’s devious thoughts. “Just because you’re crazy in love and radiantly happy doesn’t mean that everyone aspires to the same state of marital bliss.
I do not need a man. I especially do not need a man who thinks that watching wrestling is cultural.”

Liz had laughed. “Hank does not watch wrestling.”

“Okay, maybe it was tractor pulls.”

“You’re just a coward.”

“Hardly. I just don’t have time to waste trying to rehabilitate a thirty-seven-year-old man. It’s too late.”

“You’re a psychologist. You know perfectly well it’s never too late to reform someone.”

“If they want to be reformed. What gives you the idea that Hank Riley has any desire to change?”

“Think of it as an experiment. You could probably get a great research paper out of it.”

“You’re stretching, Liz.”

“I’m desperate,” Liz had admitted finally. “I already told him you’d do it.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was a calculated risk. When have you ever turned down a stray?”

“Hank Riley has a home to go to. From everything you’ve told me and my own observations, he has more women to look after him than Hugh Hefner. He does not need me.”

Liz merely smiled. Ann found the reaction irritating. And, unfortunately, challenging.

“Maybe you’re the one I should be trying to reform,” Ann had finally said with a sigh of resignation. “Send him on. I suppose it won’t kill Jason and Paul to share a room for a couple of weeks. I’ll put Hank in Jason’s room. It’ll probably give him nightmares with all those awful sci-fi posters on the walls.” That thought had cheered her considerably.

Liz, however, had looked very guilty. It had left her virtually tongue-tied for just long enough to panic Ann.

“Okay, Liz. What is it you’re not telling me?”

“Now don’t be upset,” Liz pleaded. “You can still back out if you really want to.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Lord. It must be even worse than I thought.” She peeked. “Okay. Out with the rest of it.”

“It’s just that it’s more like a couple of months, actually. Maybe three or four.”

Ann had protested loudly at that, but she’d known she was beaten. There were moments when she’d even convinced herself it would be just fine. It would be good for the boys to have a male role model around. Not that Hank was the one she would have chosen, of course, but a little of that macho nature of his might be okay for them for a short time. He could take them fishing, play baseball. She could do those things perfectly well herself, but she knew in her heart it probably wasn’t the same. Whole textbooks had been written on a boy’s need for male bonding.

Now that Hank was actually here in the kitchen, though, she wondered. He seemed a little overwhelming somehow. At the wedding, he had infuriated her with such frequency that she’d barely noticed that he had an interesting effect on her pulse. She’d assumed that it had been part of her constant exasperation with him, but he’d done nothing in the past five minutes to flat out annoy her and her heart was reacting peculiarly just the same. Maybe it was the sight of all those empty calories—doughnuts, potato chips, corn curls.

“These have to go,” she said, taking a handful of packages and reaching for the garbage can.

Hank snatched them away from her, an expression of horror on his face. Indignation radiated from every considerable inch of him. “Are you out of your everlovin’ mind, woman? Liz said you wanted groceries. I brought groceries.”

“You brought junk. The kids will all be hyperactive if they eat that.”

“So tell ’em not to touch the stuff. I’ll sacrifice. I’ll eat every last chip myself.”

“You can’t tell children not to eat foods like that, then put them right smack in front of them.”

“I’ll hide every bit of it in my room.”

“See,” she said, waving a finger under his nose. “That is exactly what I mean. You’re addicted to that junk. That’s what it does to you.”

His blue eyes took on a challenging glint. “I enjoy it. I am not addicted to it. There’s a difference.”

“Smokers enjoy their cigarettes, too. That doesn’t mean they’re any less addicted.”

He took one step toward her, which put them toe-to-toe. Close enough for her to smell the minty freshness of his breath and the clean, masculine scent of his soap. Near enough to kiss. Oh, dear heaven.

“The food stays,” he said softly.

That gleam in his eyes turned dangerous. It might have been a warning about those damn corn curls, but she had a feeling it was something else entirely. She wasn’t particularly crazy about the alternative. She took a step backward, then lifted her chin to counter any impression of retreat.

“Keep them out of sight of the children.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

The response was polite enough, but the bold and
brash tone made her want to slap him. Hard. She was shocked by the intensity of her desire to strike that smug, unrepentant expression off his face. She was a trained psychologist, a woman who believed in rational thought and the importance of calm communication. She did not believe in spankings for childish misbehavior, much less in beating up on people just because they infuriated her.

“Anything else?” he inquired.

She bit back a whole string of charges about his attitude. He was Liz’s friend. Well, more precisely he was Todd’s friend, but she would tolerate him just the same. He was only a temporary boarder, after all. With any luck he’d chafe at the restrictions of living with them and be gone by the following weekend.

“Dinner’s at seven. We all help. House rule.”

“No problem.”

“There are others. Rules are important, especially for kids who aren’t used to having anyone around who cares enough to enforce them. I’ll explain them as the occasions arise.” She tried her best to make it sound as though the household adhered to strict military discipline.

“Whatever you say.”

She hadn’t expected him to be quite so agreeable. For some reason, it increased her irritation. She nodded curtly. “Then I’ll show you to your room.”

Before they could even gather up his suitcases, though, there was another of those bloodcurdling yelps from the far side of the house. Ann dropped the bag she was holding and took off at a run.

“Does everyone in this house do that?” Hank said, sprinting after her.

“Only when disaster strikes.” She hoped that sounded sufficiently ominous to terrify him.

“Does it strike often?” he inquired with what sounded more like curiosity than panic.

“If it makes you nervous—” she began.

“It does not make me nervous. I’m just worried it might be bad for their lungs.”

“Their lungs are very healthy, except maybe for Paul’s. He’s had a few too many colds this winter.” She paused in midstep. “I wonder why that is?”