“I appreciate that, Maxwell.” She’d never done this before, and she didn’t see any reason not to take him at his word. Getting involved with the parent of one of her charges was something she’d never even considered in the past. Somehow, Maxwell had become a special case. He was different from any other man she’d ever dated, in all the ways she craved. “I don’t really know what to think about…what’s happening between us. I just know I can’t ignore the way you make me feel.”
His smile deepened, the crinkles forming around his nose and eyes.
Her heart fluttered. There’s no fight left in me when it comes to my feelings. I want to see where this can go, what we can have together.
“Then it looks like we’re both on the same page.”
She pushed aside her empty plate. “As long as we take things slowly…get to know each other…I think we’ll be fine.”
“I agree.” He gestured to their dishes. “The food was good, right?”
She smiled. “It was just as excellent as you promised it would be.”
He waved for the waitress, who removed their plates and left the check. Once he’d filled out the credit card slip, he asked, “Are you ready to head home?”
“Sure.”
He got up from the bench, easing around Sasha’s car seat, and stood next to her. Offering his hand, he helped her to her feet.
They stood there, face-to-face, with only a sliver of fragrant air between them. The sounds of the conversation and music in the restaurant faded, and the world seemed to stop as she stared into the deep brown pools of his eyes.
She let her gaze slide down to his full lips, lingering there. Feeling her emotions rise, she offered a soft entreaty. “Kiss me, Maxwell.”
He leaned in, his hand guiding her chin until their lips met. Fire bloomed inside her belly, and she held back, not wanting to seem too eager. She didn’t care who saw them, didn’t care what people might think. She wanted this. A moment later, he pulled back, and she realized how much that brief press of his lips had affected her.
This is going to be one hell of a ride.
Chapter 10
Maxwell strode into his parents’ garage Saturday morning, rolling up the sleeves of his green sweatshirt. Both his father’s single cab pickup and his mother’s compact sedan were parked in the driveway, and he assumed that was to make it easier to complete the task at hand. The weather had warmed noticeably now that they’d passed the middle of the month, so he knew he wouldn’t freeze to death with the garage door left open. He’d donned a pair of old, worn jeans and sturdy boots so damage wouldn’t be an issue—he fully expected his mother to put him right to work. As the only male child, he’d been assigned to handling physically demanding chores around the house since the age of ten, often acting as his father’s main helper.
Looking past his father’s orderly line of shelving and the carpentry workstation, he let his gaze scan over the opposite side of the space. That half of the three-car garage was where forty years of assorted junk had been piled up last year to make room for his father’s custom shelving.
“I’m over here, Max.”
He didn’t see his mother right away, but as he walked farther into the garage, he found her sitting on a low stool near the door that led into the kitchen. “Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, Max.” She wore a pair of old black sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a gray cardigan. With one hand, she held open a large black trash bag as she tossed a few small items inside. “Thanks for helping me out today.”
He chuckled. She says that as if I had a choice. I’m not going to tell her no. “No problem. What do you want me to do first?”
She gestured toward the door. “Grab a trash bag. There’s a box of them on the counter just inside the door. Then come on back out here.”
Inside the warmth of the kitchen, he grabbed the bag and stood for a moment, listening. He could hear the sounds of his father and daughter interacting somewhere in the house. Smiling as he listened to her coos in response to her grandfather’s voice, he opened the bag as he slipped back into the garage.
“Oh, good, you’re back.” She pointed to a large pile of boxes to the right of where she sat. “I’m going to keep working on this section. I want you to tackle those boxes.”
He moved to the area she’d indicated. “What’s in all these, anyway?”
She shrugged. “I know there are some of your and your sisters’ old things in there, but beyond that, I haven’t a clue.”
He reached up, pulling the top box down. Setting it on the floor, he opened the flaps. As he dug his hands through the piles of pastel-colored fabric inside, the contents became clear. “This looks like Kelsey and Lex’s baby clothes.”
“Oh my goodness.” His mother smiled, craning her neck to see around the piles. “We’d better put that box aside. I’ll wash everything, and then we can see if Sasha can fit any of it.”
She’s always been sentimental. He set the box aside toward the middle of the cement floor in the area where his mother usually parked her car.
“Come help me up off this stool, Max.”
He set aside the second box of baby clothes and went to where she sat, offering his hands. She gripped them and, with his help, pulled herself to her feet. “You good, Mom?”
She nodded. “Just remind me not to sit back down on that thing. It’s way too low for these old bones.” She gestured to the pile of bags between where she’d been sitting and the pile of boxes she’d assigned him. “Everything in these bags is recyclable. Glass, plastic, and cardboard. Once we get through, your dad can haul it all to recycling.”
“I agree, and we’re not even done going through the rest of this stuff, so there will probably be more.” He walked with her back to his stack of boxes. “I found a second box of clothes.”
She looked inside. “Oh, goodness, Max. These are yours.” She grabbed a powder-blue sleeper, printed with dozens of tiny bluebirds. “Your little pajamas. I can still remember how sweet you looked in them.”
“Mom, come on.” He smiled as he placed his arms around her shoulders. “You know there’s no way I can fit those things now. And since Sasha’s a girl, we can probably let this whole box go.”
She sighed, a wistful expression on her face as she clutched the sleeper to her chest. “I suppose. But I’m keeping this. There’s no law that says she can’t wear anything blue. And these are just so precious.”
He chuckled as he slid the box across the floor past the first box. “There. Now I’ve established my ‘keep’ and ‘donate’ piles.” Knowing his mother, the keep pile would soon get out of hand. She tended to hold on to things well beyond their period of usefulness.
“Here. I’ll help you go through the boxes now that I’m done over there.”
As they tackled the pile together, she reminisced on her days as a young mother, raising him and his sisters. “You were a pretty laid-back baby, and so was Alexis. Kelsey was the crier.”
“A sign of things to come,” he joked. Kelsey had always been the most outspoken and stubborn one among them, a flash of sparkle in an otherwise straitlaced family.
She shook her head as she searched through a box of old dolls. “Alexis was crazy about this one doll. I don’t think it’s in here…”
“The one with the pink hair and the mermaid tail?” Maxwell couldn’t believe he remembered that, but somehow, an image of it had imprinted itself in his mind. “Don’t you remember? She loved it so much that she already took it home with her. It’s on display in her curio cabinet.”
She laughed. “You kids certainly have given me plenty to smile about.” She put the box of old toys in the discard pile.
“You mean you’re not going to keep the girls’ old toys for Sasha?”
“And deny myself the pleasure of taking her toy shopping? No way.” She returned to his side, taking the box he handed h
er.
While his mother inspected that, he stooped down to open the very last box. Sitting on the concrete floor beneath the weight of all the other boxes had left this one misshapen and a bit crushed. Aside from that, it was the only box that was taped shut. It took some doing to get it open, and when he finally lifted off the packing tape, he looked inside, curious to see what he’d find.
His eyes widened for a moment as he marveled at all the brightly colored plastic. Another box of toys. In contrast to the last couple of boxes, the playthings contained in this box were made for boys. There were plastic planes and trucks, building blocks, and toy tools in bright primary colors. He dug down into the bottom, pulling up a handful of diecast metal cars.
His mother asked, “What’s that? Another box of toys?”
He nodded, still staring into the box. “Yeah, but this is boy stuff.”
“So it’s yours. Do you want to take it home with you like your sister did her mermaid doll?”
“No, I don’t want it.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the box contents. Where did these come from? How did they get here?
“Why not?”
He answered truthfully. “They aren’t mine.”
She dropped the box she’d been holding, and it hit the cement floor with a thump. “What?”
He drew a deep breath, trying to think of a good way to rephrase. “I don’t recognize any of these things, Mom.” He wouldn’t claim to remember everything about his childhood. But his favorite childhood toys? He remembered those. His set of bright yellow Tonka trucks. His collection of Marvel action figures. His baseball signed by Hank Aaron, which was on the desk in his home office. But this box held no sentimental value for him, because these were not his things. “I think I got rid of most of my kid stuff when I left for college. Remember? I put some things in storage and donated the rest. Dad insisted I not leave a bunch of stuff behind.”
Her expression hardened, her lips stretching into a thin line as she approached. “You’re sure they’re not yours?”
“Absolutely positive.” This is awkward. He wasn’t sure what to make of this. Could it belong to a cousin? No, he couldn’t remember any of his cousins bringing that much stuff to the house, even for a weekend sleepover.
She peered into the box, and as she did, her face tightened even further. A flicker of recognition crossed her face before she turned her back with a look of distaste.
He frowned. Does Mom know who they belong to?
Marching to the kitchen door, she flexed the knob and pushed it open. “Humphrey! Get out here, now!”
Maxwell stood back, folded his arms over his chest. Whatever’s about to go down, I’m not getting involved. No way. He would, however, observe. His mother looked ready to fight.
Humphrey appeared in the doorway a few moments later with Sasha propped on his shoulder. “Del, what is it? Why are you shouting?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I told you to get rid of those damn toys, Humphrey. They should have been out of here ages ago. Why in the hell are they still here?”
Patting the baby’s back, Humphrey shot back, “Now who needs a chill pill? Lower your voice before you upset the baby.”
She took several steps back. “Humphrey Devers. You’ve got some nerve telling me to lower my voice right now. You’re lucky I don’t do worse.”
Maxwell’s eyes widened as he watched the tense scene unfold. Who did the stuff in the box belong to? And why was a box of plastic junk such a point of contention between his parents?
“I’m sorry. I never got around to it, and I guess I…forgot.”
“Hmph.” She shook her head. “Get that mess out of my house right now.”
With a resigned sigh, Humphrey walked past his fuming wife and placed his granddaughter in his son’s arms. “Max, I’ll be back.” Placing a soft kiss on the baby’s forehead, he grabbed up the box and strode out of the garage.
Maxwell watched as his father loaded the box into the bed of his truck, climbed inside, and motored away.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Delphinia proclaimed, smacking her hands together. “I think I’ve had enough cleaning for the day. Give me my granddaughter.”
Seeing the way her expression softened, he handed over the baby. “At least I got to hold her for two or three minutes.”
“I’m going to ignore that comment.” Cradling Sasha in her arms, she went into the house through the kitchen door.
Standing alone in the garage, Maxwell looked out at the cerulean sky.
What the hell just happened?
* * *
Yvonne sat at the small kitchen table in her childhood home. The table’s surface was covered with various forms and important papers pertaining to her parents’ well-being. To her right sat her younger sister, Zelda. Next to Zelda was Janine, the new nursing aide Yvonne had hired to help take care of her parents.
Janine, a young woman with a short afro, bronze skin, and hazel eyes, was dressed in a set of lemon-yellow scrubs. As her eyes scanned the tabletop, she asked hesitantly, “Do you all have some kind of…filing or organization system? You know, to keep up with all the prescriptions, appointment slips, doctor’s notes?”
A twinge of guilt hit Yvonne as she shook her head. “No, I can’t say we do.”
Her mother, tending a pot of stew at the stove, interjected, “I keep all my papers in a shoebox on the closet shelf.”
Janine smiled in her direction. “Well, Mrs. Markham, you’re off to a good start then.” Leaning closer to Yvonne and Zelda, she lowered her voice. “I’ll work on a more efficient system of organization while I’m here.”
“I’m not hard of hearing, you know.” Marissa tossed the words over her shoulder without taking her eyes off the contents of the large stock pot she stirred.
“I got you, Mrs. Markham.” Janine released a nervous giggle. “I can see there will never be a dull moment on this job.”
“You’re right about that,” Zelda quipped. “Mommy and Daddy are a handful, but they’re also the best parents a girl could ask for.”
“That’s my baby.” Marissa gave Zelda an exaggerated wink.
Shaking her head at the two of them, Yvonne asked, “You’ll be fine with transporting them to doctor appointments and on errands, correct?”
“Sure thing. The company car is a minivan, so I should have plenty of room for your parents as well as anything they might need to bring along with them.”
Yvonne nodded, satisfied with her answer. She’d pored over Janine’s résumé, spoken to some of her past clients and their family members, and spoken at length with her boss at Helping Hand Home Care. Everything checks out with her. She’s young, energetic, and skilled. I think she’ll be a great fit. While she still felt a little guilty about having to hire help for her parents, she knew it was the best thing she could do for them, for Zelda, and for herself.
“I really think you’re going to be a good fit for us, Janine.” Zelda ran a hand over her hair. “It will be great to have someone we trust to make sure Mommy and Daddy have everything they need.”
“Up until now, my daughters have always done that.”
Yvonne turned toward the sound of her father’s voice, noting how perturbed he sounded. “Morning, Daddy.”
Clad in his blue flannel robe and pajamas, he entered the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane. “Hmph.”
Yvonne looked to Zelda, who simply shrugged.
Sighing, Yvonne stood. Placing her arm around his shoulder, she guided him to the chair she’d vacated. “Here, Daddy. Why don’t you sit down and talk to Janine a little? You know, get to know her.”
“I don’t see why I need a babysitter. I’m a grown man.” He dropped into the chair, hanging the handle of his cane on the backrest.
“Daddy!” Zelda let her head drop, appearing embarrassed on his behalf.
Yvonne remained silent. She’d had this conversation with her parents more than a week ago. Her father hadn’t been happy about it, and he’d made that clear from the beginning. She doubted there was anything she or her sister could say that would change his mind about things. It was all she could do to tamp down her rising feelings of inadequacy as a daughter. I’ve always taken care of Mommy and Daddy. Zelda too. I’ve always put their needs first. But if I’m ever going to save up enough money to open my own childcare center, I’ve got to get serious. She had a dream to pursue, a goal she wanted to reach. And as much as she loved her family, it was time for her to go after it.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Markham. You don’t need a babysitter.” Janine smiled in his direction.
His expression softened. “There now, see? This youngster understands where I’m coming from.”
Where is she going with this? Yvonne decided not to say anything and gestured for Zelda to remain quiet as well. It was the only way they’d find out where this was leading.
“Of course I understand.” Janine’s expression and tone conveyed her empathy. “So it’s a good thing I’m not a babysitter, isn’t it?”
His brow furrowed. “What are you getting at…um…what’s your name again?”
“Janine.”
He folded his arms over his chest as if waiting for her to make her point.
“Mr. Markham, I bet you’ve worked hard most of your life.”
“You’d win that bet,” he replied gruffly.
“I’m just here to help you out. I’ll take care of some of the chores and unfun stuff so you and your wife can spend your time the way you see fit.”
Silence fell on the room for a moment, save for the sound of the stew bubbling on the stove.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have someone like that around.” Gordon scratched his chin. “We’ll see how it goes, okay?” He reached across the table.
“Sounds good to me, Mr. Markham.” Janine shook his hand.
Never Let Me Go Page 12
