His Ideal Match

by Arlene James

  What he actually said was “I doubt it.” That was more stunning than the question itself.

  Nathan glared and asked, “How come?”

  Phillip searched for an answer. “For one thing, people who get married should be in love.”

  “And you’re not in love with my mom?”

  Oh, boy. He’d walked straight into that one. After gasping like a fish out of water for several seconds, he did the only thing he could: he answered honestly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not? On account of us kids?”

  “No. I’ll admit that I’ve never thought of myself as husband or father material, but if I was going to be someone’s father, I would be honored to be yours.”

  Nathan thought that over some then shook his head. “Grace and Tucker maybe, but not me. I know you don’t like me.”

  “That’s not true. I have a lot of respect for you, Nathan.”

  “Like I’d believe you about anything,” Nathan sneered.

  “I don’t like the way you act sometimes,” Phillip admitted. “But you stepped in to help your mom after your dad died, even though, after her, you’re the one who misses him most. I’m not sure I’d have done that myself. I’m more like Tucker, frankly—all fun and games.”

  Nathan narrowed his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses then looked away. “Tucker’s okay most of the time,” he muttered.

  Phillip hid a smile. If Tucker was okay, then he, Phillip, must be okay, too, in his way.

  “Put your shoes on,” he said. “Let’s go to the park.”

  Making a great show of his reluctance, Nathan slowly got off the bed, went to the closet and found a pair of shoes. He stomped his feet into them without untying the strings and dragged himself toward the door. As he stood next to Phillip, he looked up and asked, “My mom’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  Phillip’s breath caught. Did this kid actually want him to marry his mom?

  “Your mom’s beautiful,” Phillip told him flatly. “But I’m not sure she really likes me very much.”

  Screwing up his face, Nathan gave his head the barest of shakes, as if to say that Phillip was too stupid to live. “She likes you.”

  Phillip tilted his head, studying Nathan like a bug. “What makes you think so?”

  “She kissed you, didn’t she?”

  Phillip’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression blank. “She did, but maybe not for the reason you think.”

  Nathan rolled his eyes, yanked open the door and marched out, as if to his doom. Phillip stood there a moment longer, wondering if Nathan knew something he didn’t or if wishful thinking was about to get him in way, way over his head.

  By the time he entered the sitting room, Odelia and Carissa had herded the children to the door. Phillip joined them there, and they all quickly took their leave of Carissa. Phillip ignored her curious looks, uncertain himself what had really happened with Nathan. True to his nature, he simply put the matter out of mind.

  Phillip was used to an active lifestyle, but in the space of the next few hours, the children wore out him and the other two adults supervising them. Phillip wound up chasing Nathan and Tucker all over the park while Odelia and Kent took turns pushing Grace on the swings and the merry-go-round. She obligingly matched her pace to theirs, making Phillip muse that Grace often seemed to be a happy adult in a child’s body, while too many adults behaved like spoiled children. Nathan and Tucker, on the other hand, were active little boys. They went from driving on imaginary roads to fighting imaginary battles to riding imaginary dinosaurs, and all of it involved running, jumping, climbing, hiding and making loud noises. Phillip had his hands full making sure they didn’t get lost or hurt. He was ready to tie them to the picnic-table bench by the time they all sat down to eat lunch.

  Thankfully, Hilda had packed such a hearty meal, crammed with all their favorites, that the children stuffed themselves. Afterward they could barely keep their eyes open. Odelia spread a blanket in the shade of a tree, and even Nathan dozed for a few minutes, but then he and Tucker were up and off again. Odelia and Kent looked positively exhausted by the time they got the picnic basket repacked and the children loaded back into the car. Even Odelia’s hat was drooping.

  On the way home, Kent asked the children how they liked living at Chatam House. Tucker and Grace had only good things to say, but Nathan shrugged and grumbled, “It’d be okay if I had my own bed.”

  Phillip decided then to get those bunk beds moved into the master suite ASAP.

  Hypatia and Magnolia agreed to watch the children swim in the pool while Phillip, Odelia and Kent went upstairs to clean up and, in Kent and Odelia’s case, nap. Phillip was expected at his brother’s for an early dinner, and he’d promised to pick up Dallas on the way. After delivering the children back to the suite in their wet bathing suits and towels, he asked Carissa for a report on her day and was pleased that she was pleased.

  “I know you engineered this outing,” she said, “and I thank you.”

  “Well, if it helps you work...”

  “Yes,” she said, “the more money I make, the sooner we’ll be out on our own.” That wasn’t his point, but he let it stand. “This will all be so much easier once school starts again,” she went on. “We’ll be in our own place, and even Grace will be out of the house half days.”

  “That will be helpful,” Phillip commented idly, thinking how to broach the subject of the bunk beds. “Listen, I know you don’t want to get too comfortable here, but Nathan really wants his own bed. Would you mind if I set up the bunk beds?”

  She seemed troubled by the prospect. “Oh, I’d hoped to avoid that.”

  “I think it really would help.”

  “It would give the boys more room to play,” she considered.

  Phillip took that as consent and promised to take care of it then hurried off to pick up Dallas.

  They arrived at Asher and Ellie’s sprawling, modern, blond-brick house just as their sister Petra and her husband, Dale, did. Dale was in the construction business with his father, and Petra had taken over the day-to-day operation of the office. Phillip still couldn’t get used to seeing his once-quite-sophisticated sister in jeans and casual tops, but he loved the fact that she always seemed to be smiling. Petra had a soft look about her now, a warmth, that he’d never suspected was part of her personality. Dale seemed his usual easygoing self, nodding as Phillip asked to borrow a truck again in order to move a set of bunk beds from storage to Chatam House.

  “I’ll do you one better,” Dale said. “I’ll help you move them later tonight.”

  Phillip grinned, and they shook hands on it. “Can’t pass up that deal.”

  Asher let them in and led them to the living room, his two-month-old daughter cradled in the crook of one arm. She didn’t stay there for long. First Dallas, then Petra snatched her up. When Ellie called from the kitchen, Petra passed the baby to Dale as casually as if she was passing him a puppy or a pillow, and Dale took her just as easily, cradling her tiny head in his palm and making a bed for her of his forearms. She kicked and cooed and generally seemed to be trying to join in the conversation as the men chatted about golf and baseball and Asher’s passion, soccer. Then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, she screwed up her little face and screamed. Horrified, Phillip couldn’t believe it when both Asher and Dale began to laugh.

  “Guess we know what that means,” Asher announced, rising from the sofa in the sunken living area. Before he could say or do anything else, Ellie swept in to throw the baby onto her shoulder.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  She went out again, and only as she and the infant disappeared did Phillip realize that they had taken a rather loamy smell with them.

  “That child cannot abide a dirty diaper,” Asher said with unusual pride. Phillip could only
shake his head.

  “Ought to be a snap to toilet train, then,” Dale observed idly.

  Phillip coughed into his hand and changed the subject. “We have a situation at Chatam House I need to discuss with you, Ash.”

  He gave his brother a quick rundown on Carissa’s situation with her mother. As always, Asher listened attentively. Finally, he spoke.

  “Well, there’s nothing to be done unless this Alexandra acts. If she forcibly takes one or more of the children, or if she files suit, even if she should file a complaint with Child Protective Services, then Carissa can intervene legally. Otherwise...” He spread his hands.

  Phillip nodded. “I understand. But if the need arises, you’ll help Carissa protect her children, won’t you? She’s a wonderful mother, and she’s done the very best she could under very tough circumstances. I want her to know she’ll have help.”

  “She’s Chester’s niece and the aunties have taken her in,” Asher replied. “That’s enough for me.”

  “Great,” Phillip said, relieved—not that he’d really doubted Asher would help—but then Ash grinned.

  “With you championing her cause, though, I’m wondering if legal representation is enough. Maybe we should be preparing to welcome her to the family.”

  Phillip’s mouth fell open. “Why does everyone automatically assume—”

  The words died as Ellie unceremoniously dropped his niece into his hands, declaring, “Sounds like you should be getting used to this. I have to get back to the kitchen and take care of dinner.”

  Phillip made a strangling sound and bobbled the child but managed not to drop her. She seemed not to mind, if her toothless grin was any indication. To his surprise, she stared straight into his eyes and lifted a brow as if to ask what he thought of her. Having never held a baby before, he was too busy trying not to break her to form many impressions at first, but soon he began to realize how soft and tiny she was. Soft, tiny and very real. This was a person, a whole, complete person in a tiny, gurgling, strangely adorable package.

  He thought of Grace, and then he remembered a box of baby photos that he’d stumbled across—well, accidentally dumped—while helping Carissa clean out the apartment. Images flashed before his mind’s eye: Carissa with very long hair, holding one of the boys on her lap and mugging for the camera, baby smiles and baby feet, fat tummies and chubby hands, a single tooth in a wide smile, drooping diapers and first steps.

  He concentrated on the niece he’d avoided all these weeks, this little bit of helpless humanity in his lap. Soon she would be as engaging and charming as Grace. Or not. He couldn’t really imagine any little girl being as engaging and charming as Grace, but Marie Ella would almost certainly be bright and athletic and treasured, and he would love her. He did love her, soft, sweet, little thing that she was. He swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking of her growing up. She would change so much over the weeks, months and years ahead.

  So would Grace and Tucker and Nathan.

  He realized suddenly and with surprising gratitude that, in some way, Marie Ella would always be a part of his life, but he wondered if he would be around to see the changes that time would bring to the Hopper kids. The insight that he wanted to be there to see them grow stunned him. He could only imagine how much Carissa wanted to see her own children grow up, what it would do to her if Alexandra for some reason gained custody of one or two of them.

  No, that could not happen.

  Lord, he prayed silently, staring down at his wriggly little niece, please, don’t let Carissa be separated from her children. Make the path easier somehow for all of them. She’s had enough pain, enough loss, enough difficulty.

  For some reason, he thought of the phone app. They’d just been playing around with it, but could that really turn into something profitable? He went over it in his mind, realizing that he needed to make some phone calls, ask some questions.

  A poke in the shoulder made him jump.

  “Well?” Petra asked as she took the baby from him.

  He blinked at her, wondering when she’d come into the room. “Well what?”

  “Weren’t you listening?” She hoisted the baby onto her shoulder and began to pat her little back. “Have the aunties said anything about the Fourth of July?”

  The aunties often hosted an Independence Day celebration at Chatam House, but with all that had been happening lately, Phillip wondered if it was a good idea this year. Perhaps they were wondering the same thing.

  “Uh, with Carissa’s dad, uh, that is, Chester’s brother, having passed away recently, they may want to curtail activities this year. I’ll, um, have to ask them.” Someone ought to ask Carissa how she felt about it. She ought to have a say. Chatam House was her home, too, at least for now.

  * * *

  “So what did you and Phillip talk about before you went to the park today?” Carissa asked as she tucked Nathan into bed beside his brother that evening.

  Nathan smoothed the covers and looked away, shrugging. “Oh, he said he wasn’t good husband or father material, stuff like that.”

  Carissa’s heart thunked heavily inside her chest, but she kept her gaze bland. It was no more than she’d expected, no more than Phillip had essentially said to her.

  “What else?” she probed lightly.

  Nathan looked down at his hands. “He said you missed Dad more’n I do and I miss him more’n Tucker and Grace.”

  “Uh-uh!” Tucker protested, sitting up sleepily.

  “Do too!” Nathan insisted. “You don’t hardly even remember him.”

  “I still miss him,” Tucker insisted glumly, plopping back on his pillow. “And I think Phillip is good husband and father ’terial.”

  Carissa straightened the covers. “It doesn’t matter,” she said briskly. “Now, go to—”

  A tap at the door to the suite had her looking into the hallway. Nathan rolled up onto one elbow.

  “I bet that’s him.”

  “Go to sleep,” she instructed, her heart rate accelerating as she moved swiftly around the bed and headed out the door, pulling it closed behind her.

  She rushed across the sitting room and flung open the outer door, only to be greeted by a mattress. It shifted, so that the narrow end poked through the doorway. She recognized the bunky boards that were part of the boys’ bunk beds as Phillip and another man carried them into the suite. She noticed that Phillip clanked as he moved, his pockets full of tools.

  “I hope it’s not too late,” Phillip said, “but when Dale offered to help me move the bunk beds tonight, well, I... Oh, uh, Carissa Hopper, this is my brother-in-law, Dale Bowen. Dale loaned us his truck the other day.”

  Bowen set down his burden, though Carissa knew from experience that the padded bunky boards, which were composed of a stiff foam board and a foam mattress, were fairly lightweight. He smiled and shook hands with her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bowen.”

  “Dale,” he said, picking up the bunky board again. “Where do you want this?”

  “Uh.” Carissa pointed toward the bedroom, and Phillip led the way. “They aren’t asleep yet, but I’m not sure about—”

  Nathan appeared in the hallway. “Oh, boy!” he said. Then, “Tucker, get up!” He motioned for Phillip and Dale Bowen to come ahead with the boards.

  Phillip complied, instructing, “Get these tools out of my pockets so we can tear down the big bed.”

  Nathan worked quickly, running to his room with the tools in his arms. Phillip paused to look at Carissa. “It’s okay, isn’t it? He really wants his own bed.”

  “It’s okay,” she said in a thick voice.

  While Phillip dismantled the queen bed, Dale Bowen carried in the pieces of the bunk beds from the landing. Then both men carried the queen bed out, returning to put together the bunks. Dale left at that point, and Phi
llip went to scrounge up linens, apologizing for not thinking to bring any from the storage unit. Carissa used the sheets from the queen bed to make up the top bunk for Tucker, who was so sleepy that she had to help him climb the ladder into the top bunk. Phillip returned with fresh sheets just as Tucker crawled through the opening in the side of the upper.

  “Come on, slide your legs beneath the covers,” Carissa coached.

  At five feet and five inches in height, she had difficulty at the best of times pulling up the covers, but with so much sheet tucked in, she was finding it nearly impossible. Standing nearly a foot taller than her, Phillip would naturally have an easier time of it.

  “Here, let me,” he said, passing her the sheets for Nathan’s bed. While she shook out Nathan’s sheets and began sorting top from bottom, Phillip got Tucker settled. “There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.”

  Tucker yawned and mumbled, “Good night.” Then, with the bedding folded beneath his arms just so and the pillow adjusted beneath his head to his liking, he proclaimed, “See! He is too good father ’terial.”

  Carissa paused in the act of smoothing the sheet over the mattress of the lower bunk, thankful that the shadow of the upper hid her flaming face from view, while Nathan silently smacked his forehead against the bunk bed’s outer foot post. Phillip cleared his throat and backed up a step, his hands sliding into his pockets.

  “Well, I’ll let y’all...” The words drifted off as he moved toward the door.

  Finding her gumption, Carissa straightened and turned to face him. “Thank you, Phillip. The room has much more space now, and the boys will be much happier this way.”

  “Yes,” Nathan said evenly, drawing a deep breath. “I like this much better.” He faced Phillip then, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet like a prizefighter, his arms at his sides. Very solemnly, he lifted his hand.

  Phillip smiled, just a little, and shook Nathan’s hand.

  Tears blurred Carissa’s eyes. She didn’t know why—perhaps because her son was growing up, perhaps because he and Phillip had called a truce, perhaps because it was understood now that Phillip was no threat. Good husband and father material or not, Phillip Chatam had made it clear that he had no interest in becoming either, at least not so far as she and her children were concerned.