Studying the tense look on his face, Rosie decided she’d rather deal with whatever was bothering him first and get it over with. “What?” she said, picking up her mug.
“It might be best if we talked about it later.”
“Where are the kids?”
“Eddie’s with Jeremy and his mother at the movies, and Allison’s in her room sulking.”
Nothing had changed from earlier in the week. Rosie glanced at the electric bill and nearly groaned aloud. The water bill was equally high. With both of them employed, they managed to cover expenses, but paying attorneys’ fees and maintaining two residences didn’t leave anything for extras.
A year ago, Rosie had been shopping the after-Christmas sales, loading up on wrapping paper and ribbon and assorted bargains. This year she couldn’t afford to do that. It was a sad commentary on what her life had become.
“All right, we can talk about Allison first,” Zach said, leaning back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest.
His body language made her feel a little wary, and she braced herself for whatever he had to say.
“For starters, Allison gave me a list I’m supposed to share with you.”
“A list?” Rosie asked, frowning.
“Apparently she’s got it in her head that the judge awarded her and Eddie the house, so she’s the one in charge.”
“I’m not putting up with that notion,” Rosie assured him. Frankly she’d be shocked if Zach fell into line with any ultimatum their daughter presented.
His mouth quivered slightly and she could tell he was more amused than angry. “Take a look at this,” he said. He unfolded the single sheet of paper and handed it to her.
Rosie scanned the carefully typed list of rules their fifteen-year-old daughter had given them. “What?” she burst out incredulously. “We’re supposed to stay out of the family room if Allison has a friend over and they’re watching television?”
“It gets better,” Zach told her.
Rosie’s eyes widened as she continued down the sheet. “We’re not to embarrass her by asking if she has her homework done or any other personal questions.”
“She’s got a rule for Eddie, too.” He pointed toward the bottom of the page.
Rosie couldn’t help it, she laughed outright at the last item on the page. “Eddie’s supposed to have his hair combed at all times.”
“Apparently her little brother’s unruly hair is an embarrassment to her.”
“Yeah, and neither one of us makes the grade, either,” she said, waving the sheet of rules.
Zach nodded. “We’re forbidden to enter her room, you’ll notice. And we require Her Majesty’s permission before cleaning in there or touching her stuff.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Zach could make his own decisions when it came to Allison’s list, but for her part Rosie was planning to ignore it.
“I wish this was the only letter I had to show you,” Zach said, growing serious. “The school wrote and said Allison’s grades have dropped considerably.”
“Did they suggest counseling?” Having Allison talk to a professional would be expensive, but Rosie would do whatever was necessary to help their daughter through this difficult transition period.
“I don’t think counseling’s the answer, especially with her attitude. I have a better idea, but only if you agree.”
“What?” At this point Rosie was open to just about anything. They were losing Allison. Every day their daughter seemed to be drawing further and further away from them. She was angry and rebellious. Rosie knew Allison had every right to feel the things she did, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing while her daughter self-destructed.
“Allison’s pretty disappointed about not getting a computer for Christmas.”
This wasn’t news to Rosie; she’d already heard it, many times over.
“What if she earns it?” Zach said.
“Earns it? How?” Rosie couldn’t see her daughter baby-sitting or doing the kinds of chores a typical fifteen-year-old did to earn extra cash.
“What if I bring her into the office?” Zach suggested. “Tax time is always hectic and we could use an extra pair of hands for filing, photocopying and so on. It would be a real part-time job with a real paycheck.”
Rosie’s heart started to pound with excitement. “That way we’d be able to monitor where she is after school, and who she’s with.” One of Rosie’s biggest concerns was the new friends Allison had found. Where Allison went and who she was with—those were major concerns for both Zach and Rosie.
“I think it’s a brilliant idea.” Rosie nodded happily. “And Eddie’s been going to his friend Nick’s place in the afternoons, so that’s not an issue.”
“Allison has to agree first,” Zach reminded her. “I’m not exactly her favorite person at the moment. There are no guarantees. She could say no when she learns she’d be working at the office.”
“But,” Rosie said, “she wants a computer.”
“Shall we mention it together?”
Rosie nodded, grateful to be included in the discussion. Zach went down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. A few minutes later, he returned with Allison, who had recently pierced her nose. Rosie cringed when she noticed, but managed to keep her opinion to herself. This new piercing was a response to not getting the computer she wanted, Rosie suspected. The kids had received some Christmas money from their grandparents, and the nose ring must be what Allison had spent hers on.
“Your mother and I want to talk to you,” Zach said when Allison slouched against the counter, arms crossed, defiance radiating from every part of her body.
“I figured you would when you read my list. I’m not willing to compromise on any of my fifteen points. Since the house belongs to Eddie and me, I expect you to live up to my stipulations.”
“We can discuss that later,” Zach said, smoothly diverting her from that subject. “What your mother and I wanted to tell you was how sorry we are that you didn’t get a computer for Christmas.”
Allison glanced between them, as though she wasn’t sure she should believe what Zach had said. She shrugged, implying it was no big deal, although that certainly wasn’t the impression she’d given earlier.
“We can’t afford it, Allison. I couldn’t be sorrier.” Zach looked genuinely regretful. “But,” he said, “we’ve come up with a way for you to get a computer.”
“You have?” Her eyes brightened with hope.
“I want to hire you,” Zach said. “Tax time’s coming and my new assistant needs some additional help.”
Her eyes, which had widened just a moment earlier, narrowed now with suspicion. “You want me to earn a computer?”
“It’s your decision. I’m just giving you the opportunity.”
She shrugged again, as if she wasn’t sure she should admit it. “I’d want a dollar more than minimum wage to start,” she insisted.
Zach nodded. “That’s acceptable.”
“And I should be paid overtime if I have to work extra hours.”
“That’s only fair,” Zach agreed.
Allison glanced from Rosie to her father and then back. “All right,” she said. “I’ll do it, but only because I want a new computer. Don’t think you’re doing me any favors.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Zach assured her.
“You ready to talk about my list now?” she asked, straightening abruptly.
“Let’s leave that for later. All right?”
She sighed in a loud, exasperated way. “I guess.” And with that she returned to her room.
Zach’s gaze met Rosie’s, and for the first time in what felt like years, they shared a smile.
Seventeen
Maryellen had been feeling anxious all morning, the first day of the new year. She’d invited Jon to dinner, and to her delight and surprise, he’d accepted. Only later did she realize that she’d offered to cook a meal for a man who was a professional chef. Her expertise in the kitchen was limi
ted to packaged macaroni and cheese and frozen entrées. With anyone else, she would’ve ordered takeout, but Jon ate restaurant food every day. She felt obliged to make the effort to cook for him.
But the meal wasn’t even her main concern. The important thing about this dinner was what she planned to tell him.
She wanted to change the terms of their relationship. And she wanted him to know that she treasured his Christmas gift, a photo album filled with pictures of the first four months of Katie’s life.
Jon’s photographs revealed hidden beauty in nature, catching an unexpected pattern or a fleeting moment. But his pictures of their daughter showed far more than the changes he documented as she grew week by week. Maryellen also saw the deep love he felt for his child.
Christmas morning when she unwrapped his gift and slowly turned the pages of the album, tears had spilled from her eyes. Jon loved his daughter, and if she’d read him correctly, he had strong feelings for her, too. Maryellen prayed she was right.
The first picture in the album was a shot of Maryellen smiling into the camera, her belly huge with their unborn child. The next photos were of her in the hospital and then of Katie in the nursery.
Her favorite was a picture he’d taken on the autumn day she’d gone out to his property and the eagle had been soaring high above, wings spread wide. Jon had captured Maryellen holding Katie and pointing toward the bird. He’d caught their daughter’s face in the sun, Katie’s jubilation and the soaring eagle, all in one dramatic shot.
Naturally, with Jon’s visit at hand and her insecurity about cooking, Katie was fussy all day, interrupting Maryellen at every turn. In the end, with cookbooks spread over the kitchen counters, she decided to bake a salmon, accompanied with wild rice and fresh asparagus. Meal preparation wasn’t exactly rocket science, but just then it felt like it.
The table was set and dinner ready to be served when Jon rang the doorbell.
Maryellen paused for a few seconds to calm her pounding heart before she answered, arranging a welcoming smile on her face, despite her nerves.
Jon brought a bottle of white wine and a bouquet of yellow daisies.
“Thank you,” she said, ushering him in.
“Thanks for inviting me.” Jon stepped into the house and stood there for a moment, looking awkward and out of place. He seemed as nervous as Maryellen. Katie sat upright in her bassinet and obviously recognized her daddy’s voice. Almost immediately she started chattering and waving her arms.
“She’s really developing a personality, isn’t she?” Jon said. He walked over to the bassinet, lifting Katie into his arms with familiar ease. Maryellen recalled how uncomfortable he’d seemed in the beginning. That had definitely changed.
“I’ll get dinner on the table,” Maryellen told him. She’d forgotten to remove her apron, which she immediately stuffed into a kitchen drawer. Heaven forbid he should know how hard she’d worked on this meal.
Jon followed her into the kitchen and grinned when he noticed the number of open cookbooks.
Maryellen’s gaze followed his. “Mom told me that the people with the most cookbooks are the ones who cook the least. That’s certainly true in my case.”
“I’m easy to please.”
Maryellen hoped that was true. “I’m not much good at this, so if dinner isn’t up to par, I hope you’ll take into account that I don’t do this often.” The serving dishes were already out, and she quickly transferred everything from the stove to the table.
“Katie’s already eaten,” she said, standing at the table with her hands on the back of her chair, fingers clenching it tightly.
Jon put his daughter back in the bassinet and joined Maryellen. She’d placed the flowers in a crystal vase; they provided a cheery accent and perfectly complemented her pale-yellow table linens. He opened the bottle and poured them each a glass as she jumped up to put on some music. When she finally sat down across from him, she offered him a shy smile. She was an emotional mess; if he said one derogatory thing about this dinner, she knew she’d burst into tears.
Jon served her and then himself, although by this time she had no appetite.
“I was surprised you came,” she said, not meeting his eyes. When she’d issued the invitation for New Year’s, she wasn’t at all sure he’d accept. For some reason, it seemed important to start this year off right, and for Maryellen that included a good relationship with her baby’s father.
“I’m surprised I did, too,” Jon confessed.
That stung. So much for flattering her ego or reassuring her. “Why did you?” she asked.
Jon glanced up, grinning sheepishly. “You seemed so sincere. I guess I wanted to be with you more than I wanted to stay away.”
That was as confusing as his original comment. She thought about pressing the issue, then decided against it. “Thank you for the photo album. I love it.”
“I liked your gift, too. No one’s ever knit me socks before.”
“Did they fit?”
He nodded and pointed down at his feet with a smile. “Wearing them now.” She smiled back. As he reached into the middle of the table for a dinner roll, Maryellen automatically passed him the butter.
“I wish you could’ve been with us at Christmas, but you had other plans, and I understand that,” she said, watching him for any telltale sign that would indicate where he’d been and with whom.
To her disappointment, Jon didn’t comment.
They ate silently for a few moments and then Maryellen put down her fork. She couldn’t swallow another bite. “I wanted you to come tonight because…because I feel I owe you an apology—for the way I behaved when I learned I was pregnant.”
His eyes, flashing with amusement, flew up to meet hers. “I like it when you apologize. Remember the last time?”
Maryellen had forgotten how they’d ended up kissing….
“Anyway, you don’t owe me an apology,” he assured her.
But she did, and she had every intention of saying what needed to be said. “Then I owe you an explanation.”
He shook his head. “It isn’t important.”
“It is to me.” Maryellen’s voice trembled slightly. She should probably wait until after dinner, but the need to explain felt like a rock on her chest. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy any part of their evening until she’d unburdened herself to Jon.
“I think you know that I was married while I was in college.” She set her napkin on the table and picked up the wineglass. Her hand tightened around the stem as she took a long sip of the spicy Gewürztraminer—coincidentally one of her favorite wines. It had a calming effect on her. “Clint and I got married for all the wrong reasons.”
“Everyone has regrets,” Jon said gently.
“Some people have more than others,” she whispered, unable to look at him. “Clint and I were careful, but I was pregnant at the time.”
“So the pregnancy’s the reason you married him?”
She was ashamed to admit the truth. “I married him because I’d convinced myself I loved him and that he loved me. He didn’t want the baby. He thought it best to terminate the pregnancy.”
Jon was silent as he leaned back in his chair.
Unable to remain sitting, Maryellen stood and walked into the living room, stopping by Katie’s bassinet. She peered at her sleeping baby, tears trickling down her cheeks. Impatiently she dashed them away.
There would be other pregnancies, other babies, Clint had told her, but the timing was critical. Maryellen had listened to him. She went against every dictate of her heart, and she’d regretted it from that moment on. For years she’d struggled with the guilt and the shame of what she’d done. What she’d never admitted to herself or to Clint, until it was too late, was how much she’d wanted her baby. She didn’t blame her ex-husband. She was the one who walked into the clinic. The one who’d signed the consent form. She accepted full responsibility.
“Maryellen,” Jon said, coming up behind her. He placed his hands on her sho
ulders. “It’s all right—there’s no need to say any more. I can figure out what happened.”
“Can you?”
Jon turned her and brought her into his arms.
“I didn’t want you to know I was pregnant last year,” she said, her face buried in his shoulder. “I was afraid you’d react the way Clint did.”
“I’m not Clint.”
“I know. You’re nothing like him. I know that now.” What she didn’t know was anything about his past. Even now, more than a year later, she’d learned very little—just fragments of his history. Small bits of information he’d let drop now and then. Every time she pried into his life, he pulled away from her, both physically and emotionally. Maryellen had come to rely on him in so many ways, she couldn’t bear to risk that withdrawal, so she kept her questions to herself.
She slowly raised her eyes to Jon’s, fearing what she’d see. Instead of condemnation and repulsion, she saw understanding and love. If he’d judged her harshly, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. When she saw his love, her reaction was instinctive.
She kissed him.
It’d been weeks since they’d last touched, since she’d been in his arms. Maryellen hadn’t truly understood how much she’d missed him—everything about him—and the moment their mouths met, she lost control.
Jon’s reaction was immediate. He splayed his fingers in her hair and their kisses became passionate, full of desperation and need. When he broke it off, he had to catch his breath. Maryellen clung to him, her own breathing labored.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” he said as he disengaged her arms from around his neck. Holding both her hands in his, he retreated a step.
This was what Maryellen had dreaded. Her heart sank as she pulled her hands free. She’d waited too long to tell him, delayed explaining. “There’s someone else…isn’t there?”
“Someone else?” he repeated. “No way.” He reached for her and brought her back into his arms. Then he kissed her again, and again. Harder, deeper, longer.
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