Five minutes later the girls paraded through the room, their fingers in their ears, and Diana heard Beethoven start to bark. Probably Mrs. Eckstrom’s damn cat was deliberately taunting him, now that he was tied up and couldn’t chase her. As Diana directed the three boys, she brought her palms slowly downward, indicating lowered volume, but the Bad News Brass hadn’t learned how to do that yet.
Neither had Beethoven, Diana realized as the cocker spaniel became more vociferous in his disapproval. The phone rang, and Laurie pounded downstairs to grab it, but not before it had pealed several times. She knew the girls would love to have cell phones but it wasn’t in the budget.
“You’ll have to speak up, Jenny!” Laurie shouted into the receiver. “We’ve got quite a racket going on here.”
Laurie and Jenny continued their high-pitched conversation, and when Diana thought her ears could hold no more, Allison began practicing her drums.
“Diana.”
Zach was right behind her by the time she heard him, and she jumped three inches from her chair. Several seconds later she managed to get the attention of all three trumpet players, and they ceased their bugling.
“Yes, Zach?” Let him complain. He’d wasted the entire quiet morning at the library.
“This is impossible.”
She turned to him, an innocent expression on her face. “You knew I taught music.”
“Yes, but I thought it was mostly piano.”
“I never said that.”
“Okay, but the dog—”
“You knew we had a dog.”
“Yes, but he looks so small. How can he make so much noise?”
“He has excellent lungs, and he’s bored because he’s tied to the clothesline.”
“Okay, but does Allison have to play her drums right now? Isn’t she supposed to be on vacation or something? Who practices an instrument in the summer?”
“All my students, including Allison.” She was determined to brave this one out, especially considering the three pairs of round eyes staring at her and Zach. “I don’t see a problem.” She smiled sweetly, hoping the drop of perspiration sliding down her temple wasn’t erasing her cool and calm image.
He waved his arms helplessly in the air. “You’re all going at once! Right when I’m trying to work upstairs.”
“Then don’t work.” She could almost see his frustration level rise like the mercury in a thermometer.
“But I have to!”
“Zach, you chose to leave the house this morning when it was quiet. I have to earn a living, and teaching is my job. Allison needs to practice, and Beethoven—” She broke off as inspiration hit. What a perfect way to demonstrate to her three students, who would undoubtedly run home with tales of this encounter, what Zach’s exact position was in the Thatcher household.
“I suppose Beethoven has to practice barking,” Zach grumbled, wiping his damp brow with the arm of his T-shirt.
“He’s barking because he’s tied up,” Diana repeated, “and I imagine Mrs. Eckstrom’s cat is prancing around just out of reach. You obviously can’t work on your dissertation right now, so why not take the time to fix the fence? Then Beethoven can run around, and he’ll stop barking, which will solve at least one noise problem.”
Zach scratched his head. “Fix the fence?” His blue eyes grew worried. “Uh, with what?”
“Why, the tools in the basement, of course. You’ll find everything you need.” She stood and hurried to the kitchen for her purse. “This should cover the cost of any boards you have to buy, and there are several cans of nails sitting around.” She handed Zach some money, which he took with obvious reluctance. “After all, a deal’s a deal, right?” Her silver eyes challenged his blue ones.
His face tightened with sudden determination. “Right.” He tucked the money into his pocket and strode out the front door.
With a bright laugh of success, Diana turned to her students. “Okay, boys, let’s take it from the top.”
“Mrs. Thatcher, who is that guy?” piped one young voice.
“He’s our handyman,” Diana replied with a tiny smile.
For the rest of the afternoon she taught music and listened to the rewarding sound of sawing and hammering in the backyard. Now she was getting somewhere! Her fans would be fixed and the fence mended. Next she might have him tackle the kitchen faucet. Well, maybe she’d give him a few days off first.
After Zach had been working for about an hour, Allison came downstairs. “I’m going out to help Zach,” she announced. “He looks like he could use it.”
“Oh, I’m sure he can,” Diana replied solemnly, knowing full well Allison would manufacture any excuse to be around Zach, and a building project only sweetened the pie. It was amazing that Laurie wasn’t pitching in, except that she hated to get sweaty and mess up her hair. Even Zach couldn’t overcome that.
Once during the afternoon Allison raced through the living room, mumbling that she needed a bandage for Zach’s thumb, but other than that the afternoon proceeded smoothly. When the last student left, Diana straightened up the living room and strolled out the kitchen door to inspect the repaired fence. Her expectant smile faded at the scene before her.
Not surprisingly, both Allison and Zach were sopping wet, and the garden hose lay nearby, ready for the next time they decided to cool off. But what arrested Diana’s attention was the fence.
Zach stood to one side, petting an unchained and happier Beethoven, while Allison hammered in the last few nails. Most were crooked and had to be bent sideways, so that the boards looked as if they had been put up with very large staples. A few bent nails wouldn’t have mattered so much, but why hadn’t Zach matched the lumber to the wood of the existing fence? And why were the boards different sizes, and crooked, and what was that big Z of two-by-fours holding it all together? The fence looked as if it had been repaired by…by a twelve-year-old. Apparently Zach had allowed Allison to do almost all the work.
“Whatcha think, Mom?” Allison’s blue eyes sparkled with joy at her accomplishment. “Freaky, huh? Beethoven will never get past this fence again. Zach and I’ve built this baby to last.” She pounded on the fence with the hammer for emphasis.
“I can see that,” Diana said weakly. “Looks like you did a lot of work, Allison.”
“Zach did, too,” her daughter said. “Don’t we make a great team, Mom?”
Diana glanced at Zach, who seemed pleased as punch with the job he and Allison had completed.
“Al’s great at this sort of thing,” Zach said, throwing an affectionate arm around the young girl’s shoulders. His thumb had at least three bandages taped around it. “We had lots of fun, too.”
Diana’s eyes narrowed. Al? She shuddered at the masculine nickname for her daughter.
“Yeah,” Allison echoed enthusiastically. “Zach doesn’t mind getting wet like some people. Say, are you ready for one last spray from the hose, Zach? Sort of a celebration for finishing?”
Zach laughed, and his teeth showed very white against his tan. He’d taken off his shirt, and his muscles rippled in the late afternoon sun. “Why not? Care to join us, Diana? Sure feels good on a day like this.”
“Uh, no thanks.” Diana backed warily toward the door.
“Come on, Mom. You never have any fun anymore.”
Zach threw a challenging look Diana’s way. “Is that true?”
She shrugged under the scrutiny of his blue eyes. “I don’t know. I have fun.”
“She used to laugh a lot more,” Allison said.
Diana glared at her daughter, but Allison pretended not to notice. “You two did a great job on the fence,” Diana said hurriedly. “I’d better start dinner, or we won’t eat on time.” She turned toward the door.
“So what?” Zach called after her, and Allison giggled at the audacious suggestion that they eat late.
“I like an ordered existence.” Diana spun on her heel. Obviously Allison and Zach were out to sabotage her efforts to maintain some sort of rou
tine, but she vowed they wouldn’t succeed that easily. However, once inside the kitchen, she gazed longingly past her neat row of violets to the scene outside the window, where Zach, Allison and Beethoven frolicked in the spray from the hose.
An ordered existence. Jim had always preached it, giving her the freedom to be the more carefree one of the two of them. But Jim was gone, and she had the responsibility for providing order in all their lives. Her girls needed that stabilizing influence, the security of tradition. Wearily she wiped beads of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand and tried to forget that she’d rather be standing under the splashing water in the backyard instead of molding hamburger into a very dull meatloaf.
Allison spent the dinner hour describing the repair job in detail, and Diana marveled that Zach had allowed her to make so many decisions about the fence. But Allison looked so pleased with herself that Diana didn’t have the heart to find fault with the job, atrocious though it was.
She couldn’t remember Allison glowing this way since Jim had died, and that meant a lot more than a beautiful fence. Her handyman was helping in ways she hadn’t envisioned, she mused, glancing across the table at Zach. His freshly washed hair was combed back from his bronzed face, and his white knit polo shirt emphasized his deep tan. She had to admit he was very good-looking.
Zach raised his eyes and caught her assessing gaze. When she blushed, he smiled and pushed back his chair. “How about letting the girls clean up while we sit on the back porch where it’s a little cooler?” He picked up his dishes.
“That sounds nice.” He’s smooth, she thought, clattering her dishes a little too loudly as she stacked them into a pile.
“It’s Laurie’s turn to dry,” Allison said. “I’ve been dryer two times in a row, and it’s more work because the dryer has to put away.”
“Yeah, but last time you left half the dishes on the counter, and I put them away, bimbo,” Laurie retorted. “So that gives me the right to wash again.”
Diana frowned. “Don’t bicker, girls.” At least they’d stopped pestering her for a dishwasher. She and Jim had intended to put one in, but he’d died before they’d done it. They’d intended to get life insurance policies, too.
“Tell you what,” Zach said with a winning smile. “Allison washes, Laurie dries, and I’ll put away later.”
Allison laughed. “You? You don’t know where anything goes.”
“Then it’s time I learned if I’m going to be living here. Your mother will show me. In fact, I’ll throw in an extra bonus. I’ll finish clearing the table right now.” He disappeared into the dining room.
Laurie pulled a dish towel from the rack. “Sounds fine with me. Let’s go, Allison.”
“Call me Al.”
“Al? Why? That’s a boy’s name.”
Diana paused with one hand on the screen door to hear her daughter’s answer.
“Not if it stands for Allison,” she replied, tossing her blond ponytail. “And I like it.”
Laurie rolled her eyes. “What a bimbo. Okay, make with the soapsuds, Al.”
Diana shook her head and pushed open the door.
“Just leave the dishes on the counter,” Zach directed. “Your mother and I will be out here if you need anything.”
Diana settled into the cushioned porch swing, and Zach sank down beside her. After trotting up the white wooden steps, Beethoven stretched contentedly at their feet. The murmur of the girls’ voices in the kitchen and the creak of the swing as Zach and Diana moved lazily back and forth were the only sounds in the evening stillness, and the air smelled of wet peat moss and Mrs. Eckstrom’s roses.
Allison must have moved near the door, because her words were easily understood. “It sounded nice when Zach said that part about your mother and I will be out here if you need anything. Dad used to say things like that. It’s almost like Zach and Mom are married.”
Diana’s gaze flew to Zach’s face in alarm. He was grinning.
“Kids,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Especially Allison,” Diana murmured, looking away. “She speaks without thinking.”
“I haven’t been a teacher for nothing, Diana. I’m used to hearing all sorts of painfully candid statements.”
She still couldn’t look at him. “I would never want you to think I was looking for—that I advertised because I—” She stopped in confusion.
“Don’t worry. I don’t.” His eyes grew warm. “But surely someday you’ll consider remarrying, won’t you? You’re far too lovely to—” He stopped abruptly. “Oops. California tongue again. Sorry.”
She smiled uncertainly. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for giving me a compliment.”
“I wasn’t. And I’ll say it again. You’re lovely.”
She smiled once more and dropped her gaze.
“But I have no right to pry into your plans for marrying. I don’t even know how long—that is, when—”
“A little more than a year ago.”
“I bet you’ve had a tough year.” The hand that rested on the back of the swing brushed sympathetically against her shoulder.
Diana felt his touch, which lasted only a fraction of a second, through her whole body. When was the last time a virile, caring man had touched her? The few men she knew didn’t even believe in shaking hands with women. “Yes, it’s been a tough year,” she agreed, wishing his hand would drift back to rest against the thin gauze covering her arm. A harmless casual touch. Surely they could afford that tiny luxury.
“What was he like?”
“Strong, disciplined, hard-working. Probably too hard-working, but we didn’t realize he had a heart problem.”
“Sudden, huh?” Zach said, his voice gentle.
Diana nodded. “I’ve had well-meaning people tell me it was better that way, but I had no chance to prepare, emotionally or financially.”
“How did it happen?”
Disarmed by his compassion, she found herself telling him the entire sad story—Jim’s struggle to sell tractors in a depressed market, his worry over finances and then the sudden chest pains that preceded a fruitless race to the hospital. She described the emptiness, the numbness when grief was too vast for tears, and the moment when she had to tell Laurie and Allison their father was dead. She had no idea how long she talked and he listened, giving only a nod or murmur of understanding. She only knew that at last someone cared to hear what she’d bottled up for more than a year.
The anger, the resentment, the fear and anguish poured out, and Zach absorbed it willingly, encouraging her to continue until there were no more words. When at last she was finished, they sat silently, creaking back and forth in the old porch swing for long minutes.
At last he spoke in an unsteady voice. “Diana, I’m really sorry. You were both so young, and the girls—” His hand cupped her shoulder, and this time he didn’t move away.
She sat very still and enjoyed the electric current running between them where his hand lay against her thinly covered skin. She imagined she understood both signals pulsing through that touch. He did feel sorry for her, but that wasn’t the message that both soothed and excited at the same time. He also wanted her. For so many months she had conditioned herself to the role of widow and mother, but now, sitting here with Zach, she felt the stirrings of a forgotten role—woman.
Slowly she turned her head, and her gaze sought his. Yes. What she felt in his touch was smoldering in his blue eyes. She watched his lips move.
“I wish there was something…”
She didn’t respond. The answer was there for him to see, and she didn’t look away. Silently each accepted the truth written clearly on the other’s face. Then she gave a brief shake of her head, and he understood, better than if she’d shouted her refusal. His blue eyes darkened with regret.
“Yoo-hoo, Diana!”
They both started as the moment was destroyed. “Yes, Mrs. Eckstrom?” She rose from the swing, and Zach followed her down the steps and over to t
he fence, where her tall gaunt neighbor was standing on tiptoe and straining to examine Zach and Allison’s repair job.
“See you got the fence fixed,” Mrs. Eckstrom commented, moving her reading glasses down on her nose and staring pointedly at Zach as she flapped a pleated fan rapidly back and forth.
“Yes. Allison and Zach did it this afternoon, so Beethoven shouldn’t be a problem in your rose garden anymore.”
“That’s good.” Mrs. Eckstrom continued to peer at Zach over her glasses.
“And I’d like you to meet my handyman, Zachary Wainwright,” Diana said. “He’s in Springfield working on his doctorate in history. He needed an inexpensive place to stay, and I needed someone for small repair jobs, so we—”
“I see.” Mrs. Eckstrom’s lips pressed together into a thin disapproving line. “Where’re you from, young man?”
“California.”
“Uh-huh. Thought so.” Mrs. Eckstrom nodded wisely and continued her fanning. “How do you like our Illinois summers?”
“Warm.”
“So you fixed this fence, did you?”
“Al—I mean, Allison and I did, yes.”
Diana broke in. “Allison insisted on doing most of it, Mrs. Eckstrom.”
“So I see. I hope you’re better at history than fixing fences, young man.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Eckstrom,” Zach said gravely, as if he’d been complimented.
Diana almost choked on her repressed laughter as Mrs. Eckstrom peered at Zach in confusion.
“Land’s sakes,” the gray-haired woman muttered before clearing her throat noisily. “Well, it’s getting too dark for an old lady to be out. Good night to both of you.” With a curt nod she walked away, fanning furiously as she went.
“Good night, Mrs. Eckstrom.” Diana grinned at Zach. “By tomorrow the whole neighborhood will know I have a California surfer living in my house.”
“Who did a lousy job of fixing your fence?”
The Fix-It Man Page 4
