by Janet Eaves
Mike laughed and drank his coffee, set the mug noisily on the scarred side table. He had, in fact, spent some time playing with dolls Sunday. He’d spent much of the day at Charles and Dorothy’s since Betsy still couldn’t put weight on her ankle. She said he was a big help to her, and he enjoyed the time with LizBeth Ann. They’d made a little table out of scraps of wood and set it up in the back yard, and she had a tea party for her dolls. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. All he really had to do was watch, and, well, make the tea and carry it outside, and tell her not to worry about it when she spilled a little on the scrap-wood table. LizBeth Ann chattered the whole time, doing voices for the dolls and stuffed animals as they talked about their tea and how good it was, and discussed the weather. He’d never realized little girls were so entertaining.
“Daddy, you need to make the lion talk,” she’d said to him, looking severe. Turned out the lion required a deep voice, so he had to say important things about tea and weather on behalf of the king of the jungle. LizBeth Ann had prompted him when he’d done it wrong, which happened a couple times until he got the hang of it.
Once she made him laugh so hard that he’d thrown his head back and crowed—then noticed Betsy watching them from the bedroom window. She was smiling, but when she realized he was looking at her, she pulled back from the window and he didn’t see her there again. Silly. He knew she always watched when he was with their daughter. He’d been surprised she’d trusted him enough to take LizBeth Ann to Legend on Saturday. Surprised and glad.
“Not talking, huh?” Greg prodded.
Mike brought his mind back to the Deluxe Home Improvements front office. “Oh. Sunday? Not a lot. What’d you do?”
“Went fishing on the lake. Took my jon-boat and a case of beer up to the far end where you don’t get the noise from the Lake Lodge. The people who rent those damn pedal boats don’t get up that far either. It was a good time. Quiet.”
“Cool.” Most days that would have sounded good to Mike, but he realized he wouldn’t have traded his Sunday for any number of fishing trips. He and LizBeth Ann had discussed the possibility of renting one of those “stupid pedal boats.” He was going to talk to Betsy about it first. It would be safe enough, of course—until Betsy got wind of it. Then there’d be retribution. He knew better than to risk the uneasy peace they were currently experiencing.
“Hello? Mike!” Greg stood in front of him and waved his hand in front of Mike’s face. “You’re on another planet this morning, man. I asked, how close are you to being done?”
Mike sat up straight and crossed one long leg over the other knee, took a long swig of coffee. “Sorry. Just thinking about something. Um. I’m close to done. A few days. Friday for sure.”
“Great!” He walked back to his desk and sat down. “You’re ahead of schedule, right? I’ll come out and look at it today or tomorrow. Then, let me see where we need you next.” He flipped open a large planning calendar. “We’ve got a few jobs waiting for finish work, so you’ll be busy.”
He wanted to be busy. He was thankful to be busy, Mike reflected as he drove out to Charles and Dorothy’s. He was glad to have a good job doing work he enjoyed and had talent for. He wasn’t renting from family anymore. He was buying a little house on the north edge of town, had a decent truck—in fact, he was ahead on the truck payments—and he was providing insurance for his family. He felt good about all of it. If only… No, he didn’t dare even wish for it. He didn’t dare wish he could get his family together again.
He made the turn, slowing down when a dog ran across the road chasing a rabbit. There’s no way Betsy would take him back. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. There’s probably no way Betsy would take him back. But what could it hurt to try? What’s the worst thing that could happen? Her leaving again, and taking LizBeth Ann. That would be horrible. He’d have to watch Betsy, see how she was reacting to being back in Legend. If she really settled in, and got her own life going again, maybe she wouldn’t throw it all away as easily as she had before.
When she’d left then, she hadn’t had much reason to stay. Her brothers and sisters had gone, parents were dead, she was working fulltime, trying to take care of a baby and run a household. She had become friends with Midnight Shelby when the older woman first moved to Legend. She was so fancy and exotic. Everything Midnight did was successful, and Betsy worshiped her. When Betsy outgrew her winter coat, Midnight loaned her an expensive looking red wool cape. That sure made Mike feel like an idiot and a failure. He hadn’t realized Betsy’s pregnant belly wouldn’t fit in her coat anymore, and even if he had, he didn’t have the money to buy her something beautiful like that cape. She’d looked like a million bucks in it.
But besides her siblings’ departure, and the friendship with Midnight that probably made Betsy wish for a grander life, there was, of course, the Mike factor. He’d been pretty much of a jerk. He shook his head remembering how useless he’d been back then. No wonder she’d left him. If he could have left himself, he would have.
But now he was different.
When Betsy and the baby left, Mike had hit bottom, and hit it hard. He fell apart for a few weeks, and then, thanks to a couple of his cousins practically beating sense into him, he snapped out of the despair and began to make some changes. When Greg Andrews came to town and needed carpenters, Mike figured he had nothing more to lose, so he applied. Something about the work really clicked with him, and it was a turning point. Several things started to fall into place in his life. Finally.
It had seemed too late, until Betsy showed up in Charles and Dorothy’s entryway trying to stare him down, with Matt Branson there to haul somebody away for breaking and entering. What a great way to have her reenter his life! Betsy was a lot of things, but boring was not one of them.
It was a good time for her to come back to Legend. He was a better person, and responsible, and cared more about other people…at least, some other people…than he did about himself. Now, if Betsy put down some new roots, made some different friends in town, even if she wouldn’t take him back, he might not scare her off by trying.
But how to go about it?
Chapter Ten
Betsy heard voices. One, she knew, was Mike’s. The other she didn’t recognize. LizBeth Ann had actually fallen asleep during her quiet time this afternoon, and Betsy absolutely didn’t want her awakened. Naps were so infrequent, and so cherished. She’d been about to drop off, too, when she heard the voices.
Of course they were in the library. Where else? The beautiful room was nearly completed, and Betsy was itching to get the books up on the shelves as soon as Mike told her the finish was completely dry.
The pocket door was open and she leaned on the door frame, waiting for a break in the conversation. The other voice was coming from a tall, slender man with a blonde braid hanging down to the middle of his back. He was wearing beat-up jeans, work boots, and a beige tee shirt that had seen better days. His arms and shoulders were muscular, and the way he carried himself reminded her of a leopard pacing in a zoo. Smooth. Caged speed and strength.
“Oh—hey, Betsy.” Mike spoke as soon as he saw her, and she straightened, entering the room looking from one man to the other. This guy didn’t look familiar. He did, however, look interested. His eyes did a thorough inventory of Betsy from the top of her curly head to the tips of her fuchsia-colored toenails. And then back up again, where he locked gazes with her.
“Betsy, this is Greg Andrews.”
She’d been around his type before, ignored their smutty talk or innuendo, turned them down, tolerated them only when necessary.
“Mike’s boss.” The man reached his hand out to shake hers. Betsy put both her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
“Ah,” she said. “I do remember hearing your name from Dorothy.”
The guy clearly had no clue. He dropped his hand and smiled, showing perfectly straight white teeth. His piercing green eyes tried to capture hers again, but she focused on a spot on h
is forehead instead. He was going to come on to her, of course. She could see that, and it was laughable, because although he was handsome in a way, she was completely uninterested.
He winked, then asked, “And you are?”
“Betsy McClain. Mike’s wife.” For the first time in more than two years, it gave her pleasure to say it. And to watch the guy’s smile slide off his face. “Just wanted to ask you to hold the volume level down a little. LizBeth Ann is napping. Okay, Mike?” She looked at him for the last part, gave him a tiny smile.
“Yeah. Sure thing. She’s actually asleep, huh?”
“Mmm. I’ll close the door on the way out. Thanks.” She didn’t look at Greg again, or address him, but turned and made her way out of the room. A tiny devil in her was glad she was wearing a tee shirt that matched her toenails, that it and her low-rider jeans fit perfectly, and that she no longer had to favor the ankle she’d sprained a few days ago. She hoped Greg Andrews salivated a little bit after what he couldn’t have. Closing the door, she was tempted to stand there and listen, but the tiny devil was gone. She went back upstairs, lay down next to LizBeth Ann, and soon fell asleep.
“That is your wife?” Greg’s eyebrows shot up, but he kept his voice low.
“Yeah.” Mike couldn’t believe she’d said it out loud, to a stranger. And he sure couldn’t believe she’d said it in quite that way. Sounded as if she was proud of it or something. Couldn’t be. He’d imagined that part, he decided.
“She’s hot!”
“Hm. I don’t think I like the way you said that, man. Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“But—you’re divorcing her.”
“Yeah. But we’re not divorced yet. So forget about it. Right?”
Greg shrugged. “Whatever you say. She’s all yours, man. I’ll leave her alone because you ask me to. But that won’t work with everybody. You gotta know that.”
Mike ran his hand through his hair. “I guess.”
“She’s living here, you’re living in town, right?”
“Yeah…”
“And when Charles and Dorothy get back?”
“Not sure. We haven’t really talked about it. She won’t stay here, though. This is temporary.”
“Maybe she and the kid’ll move in with you?”
“LizBeth Ann. Like I said, we haven’t talked about it yet.” As in, there’s no way in hell Betsy would do that, and everybody in town knew it—except evidently Greg Andrews. He was still new to Legend, and not an insider.
“So what then? She leavin’ town again?”
“It’ll work out.” Mike had no reason to say this except to stop the line of questioning. Why hadn’t he been doing something about this? He needed to find Betsy and LizBeth Ann a place to stay, and quick, or maybe she would head back to the city. For all he knew, she’d left a deposit on an apartment. He hated when he failed to think things through. Hated it worse when somebody pointed it out to him.
Well, he did know pretty much everybody in Legend, and the ones he didn’t know, somebody in his family surely did. Plus, his cousin Martin was a realtor. Mike would get Betsy a place lined up by this time tomorrow. He was, after all, becoming Mr. Responsibility. This was just another way to demonstrate it.
****
The next day when Betsy and LizBeth Ann took breakfast to the library, the room was finished. Mike was sitting on the dark brown leather couch near the fireplace. All the furniture had been moved back in, and it looked better than anything in a magazine.
She sighed, as did her daughter. “Oh Mike, it’s perfect.” Ridiculous tears burned in her eyes, and she swallowed hard, banishing them. “Just absolutely perfect.”
LizBeth Ann ran across the room and jumped into her daddy’s lap, hugging him around the neck. He pulled her into a big bear hug and kissed her head. My goodness, how that relationship has changed in a few short weeks.
“I guess this will be our last breakfast in here,” Mike said as she set the tray onto the low mahogany coffee table.
I guess so. That’s sad…
“Daddy! Mommy! Can’t we have breakfast anymore?”
Mike had set her down, and she sat on the floor next to him to use the table more efficiently. But she looked up at both of them with pleading blue eyes.
“Honey— ”
“Princess— ”
They both stopped talking and looked at each other. Betsy shook her head slightly at Mike and lightly rubbed her daughter’s back. “LizBeth Ann, Daddy is finished working on this room. Now that it’s all done he’ll have to work at somebody else’s house.”
LizBeth Ann hung her head. “Do they have a little girl?”
“What? I don’t know, sweetie. Why do you ask that?”
She began to sniffle, and crawled back up into Mike’s lap. “Do they have a little girl to have her breakfast with you, and picnics, and go to tea parties, and be your princess?” Laying her head in the curve of his neck, she cried and twisted his tee shirt with her little fingers.
How to reassure her? The child had never had a father, had quickly become attached to Mike, and now she was afraid he was being taken away. Betsy couldn’t tell her things would always be good between father and daughter, because she simply didn’t know.
Mike put his hand over LizBeth Ann’s where it was worrying part of his tee shirt into a damp knot. He pulled her fist up to his mouth and kissed it, then set her up a little straighter so they were face to face. “LizBeth Ann, you are my little girl, and you are my only little girl. I don’t care who lives at my next job. Could be a boy, or a girl—or a pet giraffe!”
She giggled, and hiccupped.
“Doesn’t matter where I work. You will always be my little girl.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, when I’m working someplace else, we probably won’t eat breakfast together every day, or have as many picnics, but we’ll do it sometimes, and we’ll do other fun things together.”
She nodded. “Like tea parties?”
“Yes.” Mike smiled.
“And…like pedal boats?” She glanced at Betsy.
He smiled again. “Well, maybe. And walking on the path at the lake, and going to the playground.”
“And drinking foamy milk with Midnight O’clock?”
Mike hesitated. “That might be a thing for you to do with Mommy instead. But you and I will do things together.” He tweaked her nose. “Promise.”
LizBeth Ann smiled. “Okay. I promise too.”
Betsy, having successfully fought tears again, swallowed, and forced a smile. “Well, then, let’s eat!”
It wasn’t long after breakfast that Mike gave LizBeth Ann a kiss and hug, then stood to leave. Betsy walked him to the front door. He looked down at her, and she wondered what was on his mind. Something, obviously. She knew him that well, at least.
He held out a slightly bent business card for Deluxe Home Improvements, then flipped it over. “My cell number. You need anything, call me. Day or night—and I mean it.”
“Mmm. Okay. Let me give you mine, too.” He pulled out his phone and she recited the number while he entered it into his contacts list. It was interesting watching him punch the letters of her first name into the phone. For some reason it felt intimate to give him her cell number. Not many people had it, and there’d been a time not long ago she would have said he was the last person she’d ever give it to. Things had definitely changed.
Mike cleared his throat. “So, what are you doing the rest of the day?”
“Putting the books up, since you said the shelves are dry enough. Dorothy gave me the okay on the phone a couple nights ago. LizBeth Ann can help. I imagine we’ll have it done by the time they get home Monday.”
“Monday? They’ll be here that soon, huh?” He looked shocked.
“Monday.”
“And… this weekend? Do you have plans?”
Betsy shifted from one foot to the other. “Um. No, not really.”
“I just thought, you know, we could do something. The three of us. And…
” He winked. “I guess I’m going to the tea party.”
Betsy chuckled. “I guess you’re the official tea party parent. Don’t you feel lucky?”
“Yes, I do, Betsy. More than you can realize. Well, I’ll call you. Need to get started on the next job.” He pushed back from the porch post he’d been leaning on. “Later.”
“Uh-huh. See you, Mike.”
As he walked down the stairs to his truck she shut the door, refusing to watch him get in and drive away. She didn’t want to get too accustomed to watching him, because she was afraid it would become habit forming. Mike had the McClain charm, whether or not he realized it, and there were times even now that she wished…
But it was too late for that. Promises made, promises broken. Now he’d made some to LizBeth Ann. He seemed sincere enough, but if he broke those promises, Betsy knew she’d find a way to punish him for it. LizBeth Ann didn’t need to suffer anymore because of her parents’ mistakes.
Chapter Eleven
Saturday morning at eleven-thirty, Betsy and LizBeth Ann got out of the Bug and started across the grass to the shaded picnic table next to Lake Legend. When LizBeth Ann saw Mike sitting on the bench, she let go of her mother’s hand and ran to him. He swept her into his arms for a big hug and kiss. How had he let her get this old without being part of her life?
“Hey, Princess. How’s my girl?”
“Good! Did you bring the picnic?”
“Well, I sure did. Just need the table cloth.”
Betsy shook out the brightly printed cloth, then smoothed it onto the table.
“Okay,” she said. “That and the lemonade are my contributions to this picnic. Where’s the food?” She was actually smiling—the happy kind of smile instead of the forced kind she used around him so much. Maybe she was finally warming up to him. Mike sighed, hoping that was the case.
The three of them laid out the food. Fortunately Betsy had also brought paper plates and napkins, which Mike hadn’t thought of. Well, surely he’d get some brownie points for bringing sandwiches on wheat bread instead of white, and shiny red apples for dessert instead of the packaged bakery stuff he would have preferred. He hadn’t missed the fact that Betsy tried to encourage their daughter to eat healthy foods. In fact, he’d started packing healthier lunches for their picnics on Charles and Dorothy’s back lawn, because otherwise he almost had to share his junk food with LizBeth Ann—and be subjected to her mother’s frowning disapproval.
