“Much better.” Gretchen noted the trim line of the straight-legs pants and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally a pair of maternity pants that didn’t make her backside appear twice its size. “Now, if I could just find a shirt that didn’t have polka dots or bows on it, I’d be in business.”
“Look, here’s one that’s designed like a man’s shirt, with a shirttail hem. Try it.”
Gretchen slipped it on. The white-and-khaki plaid was flattering and she liked the tailored construction and crisp cotton fabric. This was more like it. Maybe Matt wouldn’t feel like running the other way when he saw her in it. “Maybe if I could get the same thing in another color?”
Marissa grinned. “No problem. I saw something similar in navy on the rack.”
“Good, then let’s get it and go.”
As they approached the register, Marissa stopped her and said, “That’s only two outfits, Gretchen.”
Gretchen didn’t want to admit it, but that was all her budget would allow this month. Since starting college, she had taken out the minimum in education loans and lived frugally to avoid going any deeper into debt than she absolutely had to.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try on the knit separates or the wind suit?” Marissa insisted.
“Positive.” Gretchen smiled, knowing she could always come back later, perhaps during the Memorial Day weekend sales. “This is all I need right now.” Besides, there was no use investing a great deal of money in clothes she’d wear only for a few months and never need again.
“So how are things with you and Matt?” Marissa asked, when they were back out in the mall again.
“Okay.” Gretchen shifted her shopping bag to her other hand.
“That’s all? Just okay?” Marissa teased when they stopped to examine some handcrafted sterling silver-and-turquoise earrings in a jeweler’s display window.
Gretchen paused, thinking not only about what was right with their life together, but what was wrong with it. “Matt’s been very good to me,” she said cautiously. He was always looking after her. They took turns cooking dinner, spent time talking every day and made love almost every night.
“And?”
Gretchen shifted her shopping bag to her other hand, trying to find a more comfortable way to carry it. “And nothing.”
“Gretchen, I can tell when something’s wrong,” Marissa persisted, her expression tightening into one of deep concern.
Gretchen glanced away a long moment before turning back to face Marissa. “Things are getting better between us. But they’re worse between him and his kids,” she confided, “and the baby and I are responsible for that.”
Marissa took Gretchen’s elbow and guided her away from the jewelry center and out of earshot of other shoppers. “Are you saying that Matt blames you for that?” she asked, growing very still when they’d paused again.
“No.” Gretchen shook her head emphatically. She sat down on a polished wooden bench and settled her shopping bag between her knees. “He would never do that. But I still feel responsible as hell. I mean, sooner or later this is bound to come between us, too. Sooner or later he is bound to realize that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been around.”
Marissa was silent as she sat down beside Gretchen. “Then you have to fix it,” she said simply.
“I know,” Gretchen said with a heartfelt sigh. The question was how. Thus far all the calls she had made to his children—and she’d made one per child per week—had been either cut short or left unreturned. Thus far, her efforts to mastermind a reconciliation between Matt and his kids were not working at all.
* * *
“GOOD HEAVENS, Matt. What happened to you?” Gretchen asked several hours later, aghast. She’d never seen anyone so completely filthy. Matt was covered in grease and dirt from head to toe. Only his wrists and hands were clean.
Matt stepped inside the kitchen door and, still standing on the welcome mat beside the entrance to the garage, carefully removed his boots. He set them down, then came inside. “We were working on drilling equipment all day.” He spread his hands wide and looked down at himself with the contentment of a man who’d put in a hard day’s labor. “Scary, huh?”
Gretchen pushed away from the table spread with textbooks. “Only in that I wasn’t expecting you to look quite so...” she hesitated, not wanting to insult him.
“Grungy?” Matt supplied with a wink.
Gretchen grinned and sashayed closer. “You said it, not me.” She looked him up and down mischievously. “Although now that you mention it, you’d be perfect as the before screen in a detergent commercial.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Cute.”
“I thought so.”
Chuckling, Matt headed for the adjacent laundry room. “Washer empty?”
“Yep.”
Though they were living together, sleeping and eating and even cooking together, they were still doing their own laundry and errands most of the time. It was as if they were afraid to get too close, or come to depend on each other too much just yet.
Gretchen lounged against the doorway, enjoying the view of Matt in such a masculine, earthy state. She folded her arms in front of her. “Are you really going to try to get those clean?”
“Honey, I’ve washed out a lot worse,” Matt drawled as he shucked his jeans and socks, stripped off his denim work shirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He dropped them all in the washer, turned the temperature selector knob to hot, pushed the buttons for heavy-duty cycle and soak, and added hefty amounts of detergent and all-fabric bleach.
“That’ll really do it?” Gretchen asked. She would’ve sworn nothing would get that grime out.
Matt nodded. “Should. If not, I’ll run them through a second cycle.” He caught her glance and continued, deadpan, “In case you’re wondering, I am planning to get a shower before dinner.”
“It never would’ve occurred to me to ask,” Gretchen shot back wryly. Unlike his first wife, Gretchen didn’t mind a little dirt. In fact, one of the things she liked most about Matt was that he wasn’t afraid to get dirty.
Matt took her hand in his, tugged her close and kissed the top of her head. “Come upstairs with me. We can catch up while I shower.”
“I gather you had a good day,” Gretchen said, as he kicked off his boxers and stepped into the shower.
“The best. It was very productive. What about you?”
As she turned to answer him, Gretchen couldn’t resist a look at his silhouette through the glass. Brawny shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and leanly sculpted hips, muscular thighs and calves. And the rest of him was just as beautifully made. Swallowing around the sudden dryness in her throat, she looked away. There was a danger in wanting too much. “I had a good day, too,” she reported casually. She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. Noticing her lipstick could use touching up, she did that, too.
Matt turned toward her as he soaped down his body. “That lecture you were looking forward to today...”
“Was great. My other classes were interesting, too.”
“Did you meet with your adviser?”
“Yes.” Gretchen spoke loud enough to be heard above the shower. “No luck on substituting the prerequisite speech class. I’m going to have to take it second summer term if I want to enroll in the required class in the fall.”
“That’s awfully close to your due date, isn’t it?”
Gretchen shrugged, bracing herself for the argument sure to come. If she had a complaint about Matt, it was that he tended to worry a little too much, believing that if one should err it should be on the side of caution. “I should be done with my exams a week or so before I deliver.”
“That’s still cutting it awfully close.” Matt frowned as he cut off the water and stepped out of the shower.
Gretchen watched, dry mouthed, as he dried off briskly, then wrapped a towel around his waist. With effort, she forced her mind back to the conversation. “I know.” She pushed
the hair from her face. “But what’s the alternative? Wait another year to take that class? The professor I want only teaches it fall semester.”
“Would it be such a crime to take it with another professor?” Matt asked gently, stepping closer.
“In this case, yes,” Gretchen explained patiently. “I told you, Matt. My having a baby is not going to interfere with my getting my degree. In fact, my having a baby doesn’t have to change my life—or yours—at all.”
“Right,” Matt replied, deadpan, as he led the way out into the bedroom.
Gretchen sensed a lecture on the perils of parenthood coming on, by one who had experienced it all. She leveled a warning look at him as he rummaged through his bureau. “Matt, don’t start.”
“Hey!” Matt dropped his towel and pulled on his boxers. “Who said anything?”
Gretchen lifted her brow. “But you’re thinking it,” she accused.
“That’s because it’s true.” Matt put on a fresh pair of socks, disappeared into the adjacent walk-in closet, then returned, carrying dark brown slacks. “Having a baby does change your life in myriad ways.”
Gretchen sat down on the edge of the bed as he finished getting dressed. “Maybe in the old days, before almost all women worked—”
“The old days?” he echoed, chagrined.
“Sorry.” Gretchen blushed. “I didn’t mean to imply you were behind the times on this subject.”
“But you think it,” he countered, as he shrugged on an ecru cotton polo shirt.
“Now who’s reading minds?” she exclaimed.
Before he could reply, the doorbell rang. Before either of them could do much more than move toward the door, they heard the front door open and close. “That’s probably Angela. She said she was going to stop by tonight,” Matt explained. “She has something for you.”
Gretchen blinked in surprise. “For me?”
Matt lifted his shoulders in a decidedly casual shrug, but there was no hiding the happiness in his eyes. “That’s what she said,” he replied. “I think she’s trying to make amends for the way they all charged out of here last month after we told them the news.”
Maybe miracles did happen after all, Gretchen thought. Now, if she could just get Matt to meet all his children, including Sassy, halfway, they’d be able to blend their family into one happy unit. So far, Matt was proving as stubborn as the rest of them. “It was hard on all of us,” Gretchen said.
“And it’s past time to make amends,” Matt said, both happy and relieved. “I’m glad she’s here.”
“Dad? Gretchen? Are you up there?” Angela called impatiently from the bottom of the stairs.
“I’ll go down and talk to her while you finish getting dressed and dry your hair,” Gretchen said.
“Thanks.”
“Your dad will be down in a minute,” Gretchen told Angela as they met at the bottom of the stairs.
Awkwardly, Angela thrust a baby quilt at Gretchen. It was bordered in white, yellow, pink and blue, and decorated with the alphabet and stuffed-animal appliqués. “Oh, Angela, this is beautiful.”
Acting as if the family argument had never occurred, Angela beamed. “Do you really think so? I made it myself from scraps of material and stuff I had around.”
“It’s gorgeous. Really.” Gretchen had never seen anything so lovely.
“Thanks.” Angela smiled shyly. “I wanted it to be really special. I’ve been working on it in my spare time for the past month.”
Gretchen hugged her. “We’ll cherish it. Your dad is going to be so pleased.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s getting cleaned up. They were working on the drilling equipment all day.”
“Oh, yuk,” Angela said. “My mom always hated that. He came home looking and smelling really gross.”
“Yeah, but he cleans up nice.” Gretchen grinned.
Angela brightened. “You’re right about that.”
Gretchen led the way into the kitchen. “We were about to have dinner. Want to eat with us?”
Angela paused shyly. “If there’s enough and I wouldn’t be intruding.”
“Angela, this is your home,” Gretchen said sincerely. “You will always be welcome here. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
“I know, Gretchen. And I was never really mad at you. It’s just... Dad can be so stubborn sometimes.”
“I know.”
“And someone had to side with Sassy.”
Gretchen wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t see the point of getting into an argument about it, either. “How are she and Luke?” she asked casually.
“Still upset with Dad and, by default, you,” Angela said honestly.
“Will they get over it?” Gretchen asked bluntly, not certain how much more of this feuding she could take.
Angela bit her lip. “I’m not sure.”
“What usually happens when the family has a disagreement like this?”
“I don’t know. It’s never happened before.”
A chill slid down Gretchen’s spine.
An awkward silence fell. Angela glanced at the course descriptions and registration catalog on the table. “So you’re registering for summer classes, too,” she said brightly, changing the subject adroitly.
Gretchen forced a smile. She went to the stove and stirred the pot of simmering chili. “I’m trying. I keep changing my mind about what I want to take this summer.”
“Me, too.”
“So how are your classes going?” Gretchen asked, as she brought out the ingredients for corn bread.
“Okay.” Without warning, Angela looked glum.
Maybe here was her chance to be if not exactly a stepmother, at least a friend. “Something wrong?” Gretchen asked, as she measured cornmeal and flour into a bowl.
Angela pulled up a stool. “Promise you won’t tell Dad?”
They were treading in dangerous territory. Gretchen did not want to be in the middle of any quarrels between Matt and his daughter. On the other hand, Angela looked like she needed someone to talk to. Gretchen knew she couldn’t turn away. “If you tell me something in confidence, I promise it will not go any further.”
“I want to change my major again. And Dad is going to absolutely freak when he hears.”
“What happened to psychology?” Gretchen went to the refrigerator for eggs and milk.
Angela waved airily. “I’m not cut out for that.”
“Then what?” Gretchen asked, perplexed as she broke eggs into a bowl.
“That’s just it. I don’t know. The more I try to settle down and pick something out the more scared I get. I’m terrified of making a mistake. I don’t want to end up like my mom and my dad.”
A chill went down Gretchen’s spine, as she switched the oven knob to 350 degrees. Was there more to the failure of Matt’s marriage than she knew? “I’m not sure I understand,” she said slowly.
Angela’s expression became even more troubled. “They were my age when they got married. They both thought they knew what they wanted out of life—each other—only to find out they didn’t belong together at all. They were miserable in the years before the divorce, Gretchen.” Lip quivering, she glanced up and continued in a whisper, “They tried not to let on to us, you know, but we all saw it. I can’t go back to living that way again. Feeling like...nothing in my life is right.” Her eyes gleamed moistly as she pushed away from the stool and began to clear the kitchen table. “And yet I’m so tired of being in school, of putting my whole life on hold. I need to know what to do.”
Gretchen drew a deep breath, feeling as if every ounce of maternal instinct she had was being put to the test. “Have you checked with the career counselors?” she asked gently as she walked over to help.
Angela nodded. “I’ve taken all the aptitude tests countless times.”
“And?” Gretchen carried her stack of papers and books over to the far kitchen counter, out of harm’s way.
Angela sighed and
looked even more miserable. “I get a different result every time. One time, I’m suited for a career in sales, the next medicine, the next law, the next accounting.”
“Well, maybe you’re going about it the wrong way,” Gretchen said at last, as she returned to her corn bread.
Angela brightened. “How so?”
“Maybe you need to stop thinking about what you ought to be and concentrate instead on what you like to do.” Gretchen added the eggs and milk to the dry ingredients already assembled. “In your spare time, what do you do?”
Angela shrugged. “Sew, read. Make things.”
Next Gretchen added salt and baking powder. “So maybe fashion design is where you should be. Have you taken any human ecology or home economics courses?”
“Well, actually, yes, when I first got to UT, but I just couldn’t see myself as a department-store buyer or a home-ec teacher, and that’s where most of the kids were headed....”
“Then maybe you should set your sights a little higher. Think about opening your own clothing shop. Or sewing clothes on commission, for individual customers to suit their individual needs.”
“But what if I go ahead and get a degree in design and then find out I can’t make a living?” Angela asked anxiously.
Gretchen mixed the batter with a wooden spoon. “Angela, if this quilt you’ve sewn is any indication of your talent, that will never be a problem. You have style and creativity in abundance. And if it’s something you like to do... At least think about it,” Gretchen urged softly.
“What’s going on?” Matt stood in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Angela made us a quilt for the baby,” Gretchen said, changing the subject adroitly, as she moved to spoon batter into a pan. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Very.” Matt admired it quietly, then hugged his daughter. “I’m glad you came by,” he said softly, feeling more content than he had in weeks. “I’ve missed you.”
* * *
“THAT WAS FUN,” Gretchen said after Angela had left.
Matt waved goodbye to his daughter, all the love he felt for his eldest child reflected on his face. “Yeah, it was.” He smiled with a deep, paternal satisfaction as her car disappeared from view, then slowly shut the door.
Daddy Christmas Page 14
