Kisses And Kids (Congratulations Series #1)

by Andrea Edwards

  “Your aunt isn’t going to desert you,” Trisha said. She tossed one book with no cover and flipped through another. Someone had decorated the inside cover with a crayon, but it was still readable. She put it on the shelf. “You know she’s been working with Mrs. Adamanti to find you and Angie a new home. She’s not going to leave unless you and Angie are taken care of.”

  “Davey says nobody’s gonna want us ‘cause we’re too old.”

  Trisha reached over to pull the boy into her lap. “Don’t you listen to Davey. Someplace there’s somebody who is really going to be glad to get you two. Mrs. Adamanti’s really good at finding homes for kids, you’ll see.”

  Angie flew into the study room with Pat right behind her. “Pat’s here,” she announced. “We can go now.”

  Pat looked decidedly startled and Trisha climbed quickly to her feet. “Angie, I haven’t even talked to Pat yet. How about if you and Rulli carry those old books out to the trash for me?”

  “All right, but I ain’t staying here alone all day,” the girl said. “It’s just too boring.”

  Trisha flashed a smile at Pat as the kids left the room. “We’ve a little problem,” she said.

  “So I gather.” His eyes were tight. “Angie had a little message for me when she opened the door. Something about her and Rulli coming with you this afternoon.”

  Trisha grimaced. This wasn’t the way she’d planned the day would go. “I told her I was supposed to go to your place, but I never said they could come along. It’s just that their uncle was taken to the hospital last night. They were left all alone and wandered over here even though we’re closed on Sundays. I figured I’d just stay with them and we could do our search some other time.”

  He looked as if his would-be home run had just been caught by an outfielder at the fence. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “They can come. I’ve got plenty of food.”

  “Really, we can do it another time,” she said quickly. She couldn’t read just what his disappointment meant. “I never meant to force us all on you.”

  “Hey, it’s a big house and you wanted an all-out search” He shrugged. “Now we’ve got more bodies to do the looking.”

  “Look for what?” Angie asked.

  Trisha let her eyes search Pat’s again, looking for some sign that he’d rather not have them all, but found none. Not that she could read much of anything in his expression. He had on his closed-up, politely distant look.

  “A treasure,” Trisha said slowly. “Pat’s grandmother said there’s a treasure in his house and we’re going to look for it.”

  “Cool,” Angie said.

  But Rulli looked confused. “You mean like a pirate treasure? Did pirates used to live in your house?”

  “Sure,” Pat said, putting his hand on Rulli’s back as he ushered them out of the room. “We’ve always been a wild bunch of guys.”

  Trisha followed them, closing up the club, with a warmth growing in her heart. The kids bickered good-naturedly with Pat as they trooped out to his car. She was sure he hadn’t really wanted the kids to come, but he was being an awfully good sport about it. How many other men that she knew would have let the kids tag along?

  Pat had the kids settled in the back seat by the time she got to the car. She sat with her back to the door so she could keep one eye on the kids and the other on Pat.

  “Cool car,” Angie said, her voice brimming with approval.

  “I bet you can go really fast, huh, Pat?” Rulli said.

  “Yeah.” Pat pulled out of the parking lot. “If I pedal hard.”

  Trisha smiled but the kids let his humor sail right over their heads.

  “This ain’t fast,” Angie pointed out. “Uncle Henry’s old car goes faster.”

  “We’re in the city,” Pat said.

  “Davey goes fast in the city.”

  “Davey probably has a load of speeding tickets, too,” Pat said and continued along at the speed limit.

  “Big wimp,” Angie said, slumping back in the seat, the sense of approval totally drained from her voice.

  “That’s okay, Pat,” Rulli said. “You don’t gotta go fast. I don’t want you to go to jail.”

  “Thanks, kid.”

  The kids grew silent, staring at the big, old homes that lined Washington Street. This outing would be just great for them. It would take their minds off their uncle and their precarious home situation. And Pat might even enjoy it. Trisha was sure she was going to. They pulled into the driveway next to Pat’s house.

  “Wow, this is a mansion,” Rulli said.

  “No, it ain’t,” Angie said. “It ain’t got no big walls around it with guards and dogs.”

  Pat flashed a smile at Trisha as he opened her car door. “Trust Angie to put me in my place.”

  “We all have a purpose in life.”

  “Oh?” His eyes took on that fiery look. “And what’s yours?”

  “The same as all women.” She moved her seat forward so the kids could get out. “To civilize the men around them.”

  “I might need a lot of work,” he said.

  “I don’t give up easily.”

  The kids had run up on the porch. Angie was peering into a window while Rulli was walking a pretend tightrope along the edge of the porch. Pat took Trisha’s hand as they walked up the stairs. It was going to be a good afternoon. The kids would add to the day, not detract from it. She was certain of it.

  She was still certain once they got inside, even though the kids seemed to think the spacious rooms were an invitation to kick off their shoes and run around, turn cartwheels and slide in their stocking feet across the floors. Pat looked a little startled, but she knew the kids would calm down.

  “Guys, come on,” she called. “Remember, this is Pat’s house. Let’s behave.”

  “They are,” Pat muttered. “They may be behaving poorly, but it’s still behavior.”

  “Thanks. You’re a big help.” She turned back to the children. “Kids.”

  Rulli ran back over to her. “Let’s look for treasure.”

  “Where’s it hid?” Angie had screeched to a stop in front of a fireplace and peered up. “Maybe there’s a secret room with bodies in it.”

  “I doubt it,” Pat said. “We’ve never lost anybody in this house.”

  “Pirates murder people,” Rulli pointed out.

  “The people who lived here were nice pirates.”

  Rulli looked distinctly disappointed, but Trisha just waved them into the living room. “Let’s do this right,” she said. “We’ll do a room at a time and everyone works together. Angie and Rulli, you look down low for anyplace something could be hidden. But be real careful not to break anything.”

  The kids darted off immediately. Angie started at the door and crawled around on the floor, looking at the baseboard and plasterwork; Rulli looked under the furniture.

  “This is going to be very productive,” Pat said.

  “Hey, you don’t believe in the treasure anyway,” she pointed out.

  “No, but somehow I figured this afternoon was going to proceed a little differently.” His eyes gave her a hint at the kind of afternoon and evening he’d hoped to have.

  She patted his hand. “You’re a real hero to these kids. Rulli is scared stiff about what’s going to happen to them, and Angie has to be, too. You’re helping them forget for a little while.”

  His smile held little humor. “That’s me. Role model. Hero. Next month I’m going to be featured on one of those Saturday-morning cartoon shows.”

  “Come on,” she said with a laugh. “Let’s look up high.”

  She took him by the hand and led him over to the fireplace, where she started looking for cracks and secret panels. She wasn’t about to tell Pat, but she thought he was a hero, too. He was letting the kids into his life when they needed someone. Not everyone was so willing to share themselves.

  “Hey, I found something,” Rulli called.

  Angie was the first one over, peering under the sofa with
him. “It’s just a pen,” she said in disgust as she pulled a ballpoint pen out from under the couch.

  “Well, I didn’t say it was the treasure,” he pointed out.

  Trisha just exchanged a smile with Pat and went back to the fireplace. She’d found no loose bricks or little rosettes that turned or any other things that always revealed the hidden treasures in movies. The damper was soot covered so anything hidden above the fire would have been charred.

  She moved on to the built-in shelves on either side of the fireplace. Pat brought her a step stool, but it didn’t bring any great luck. An hour later, they were searching the parlor; a while after that, it was the dining room. But no luck anyplace.

  “This is boring,” Angie whined. “I mean, like really boring.”

  “I told you there was no treasure,” Pat pointed out. “Want to help me fill my bird feeders outside?”

  “Yeah,” the girl said and got to her feet. “I’m gonna be a forest ranger when I grow up.”

  “Forest rangers have to work with bears,” Pat said.

  “I ain’t afraid of bears,” Angie said. “I ain’t afraid of nothin’.”

  Since Trisha had heard Angie mouth those words often enough, she could have finished that line herself. Instead, she pasted a smile to her lips and sank onto a dining room chair. “What about you, Rulli? You going to quit, too?”

  “Uh-uh,” he said. “I like this.”

  She frowned at him. “We’ve got to go about this smarter, though,” she said. “If you had a treasure, where would you hide it?”

  He thought for a minute. “Under my bed.”

  “No, it can’t be under furniture. None of this furniture is old enough.”

  Trisha heard Pat’s voice and Angie’s laughter as a screen door slammed at the back of the house. Suddenly she felt very lonely. This afternoon might not be going as he envisioned, but it wasn’t as she had expected, either. She’d somehow thought she’d have to be fighting her fears about growing closer to Pat, not sitting here with Rulli.

  “Let’s walk around the house,” she said. “Maybe that’ll give us some ideas.”

  So she and Rulli toured the house on their own. The second floor had four bedrooms. Pat’s was the largest one with a sitting room/porch off it. Then, in what Trisha had thought was a hallway closet, they found a narrow set of small, steep stairs leading up to the third floor and down to the kitchen. They went up to the huge dormitory-style room.

  Rulli walked across the wide-open floor littered with old furniture and boxes. “I always knowed Pat was rich,” he said in an awed voice. “But I didn’t know he was this rich.”

  “I don’t think Pat is rich,” Trisha said.

  “Yeah, he is,” Rulli insisted. “He’s gotta be to live in a humongous house like this.”

  Trisha would have said that Pat was comfortable. But this probably would have been palatial to any kid who lived in a two-bedroom bungalow with six other family members.

  “It’s been in Pat’s family for a long time,” Trisha said. “He got the house when his grandmother died.”

  Rulli wandered over to the dormer windows at the far end. “Aw, neat,” he exclaimed. “You can see Coveleski from here.”

  Trisha joined him at the window, her eyes glancing at the baseball stadium in the distance, then looking down at Angie and Pat in the backyard.

  “Man, wouldn’t it be great to live here?”

  The pathos in Rulli’s voice brought a lump to Trisha’s throat.

  “You could see all the games for free.”

  She put a hand on Rulli’s shoulder and roughly cleared her throat. A good social worker didn’t get emotional about her client’s problem, not if she wanted to help. She focused her attention on the stadium. All she could see was the outfield.

  “I don’t think you could see much of the game from here,” she said.

  “I guess.” She could feel Rulli shrug his shoulders under her hand. “But I bet you could see the fireworks real good.”

  “Yeah, I bet you could.”

  The huge emptiness of the house was impressive, but sad, too. This was a house made for a family, made to be filled with kids and love and laughter, not to be so silent and empty. Why wasn’t Pat married and making this place a real home? Not that it was any of her business.

  “Come on, big guy,” she said. “Let’s get back downstairs.”

  “Are these the kids’ stairs?” Rulli asked, as he looked down.

  “I think they were for the servants.”

  “Oh.” He sat down at the top of the stairs. “Can I look for the treasure up here?”

  Her eyes flickered over the dusty items scattered in the room. It didn’t look as if anyone had been up here for ages.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Just don’t mess anything up.”

  “I won’t. I’ll stay by the stairs.”

  “That’s fine,” Trisha said, stepping around Rulli and moving sideways down steps that were about as deep as the width of a man’s hand. “I’ll be on Pat’s porch.”

  She walked through Pat’s bedroom and onto the porch where she sat in a wicker chair and watched Pat and Angie in the backyard. They were talking and laughing as they cleaned out some birdbaths. Angie seemed to be ordering Pat about, but he looked to be taking it well. She obviously needed a strong hand but Trisha hoped that wherever the girl landed, that strength would be tempered by gentleness.

  There were so many needy kids in this town. And then there was Pat, with so much to give, yet so determined to remain apart. Trisha closed her eyes. She wished she could find the treasure in the house, just to show him that it was all right to believe.

  “Miss Stewart!” Rulli called as his little feet thumped down the stairs and across the hall. “I found it! I found it!”

  Trisha jumped to her feet as Rulli came flying through Pat’s room. He had a grungy-looking wooden box about the size of two cigar boxes.

  “I found it!” He put the box on the wicker chair and raced over to the porch railing. “I found it!” he called out to Angie and Pat. “I found the treasure!”

  As Pat and Angie came running, Trisha took a look at the box. Her heart was racing with excitement. The box was certainly old. The wood was dried and dusty, the brass trim on the box was badly tarnished. It didn’t seem to be locked, but Pat should be the one to open it. It was big enough to hold all sorts of exciting things.

  “It was under the window seat,” Rulli said, then hurried back out into the hallway as the back screen door slammed. “It was under the window seat in the attic,” he called down the stairs. “It thumped funny when I jumped off. The treasure was under it.”

  Angie flew onto the porch. “What is it? Is it lots of money?”

  Pat wasn’t far behind, but he slowed down when he saw the box. His eyes grew soft, not with disappointment, but with familiarity. “Well, what do you know?” he said. “I haven’t seen that for years.”

  “You’ve seen it before?” Trisha asked.

  “It ain’t the treasure?” Rulli sounded crushed.

  Pat shook his head and squatted down slowly next to the box. “Depends on what you mean by treasure.” He ran his fingers in the dust on the cover. “It’s an old box that my brother and I used to keep stuff in.” His voice softened until it was barely audible. “Our treasures.”

  “How’d it get under the window seat?” Rulli asked.

  Pat shrugged. “I probably hid it there and forgot.”

  He pulled it open. The box was filled almost to the top with papers and photos and little trinkets. He took the top papers off and unfolded them.

  “This is a story I wrote in first grade,” he said with a little laugh. He passed it along to Trisha. “Man, did I ever slave over it.”

  The kids looked over her shoulder at the shaky block letters telling about a bunny. “You must have really been proud of it,” she said.

  He had already picked up the next papers. “I kept it because I figured I could use it the next time I
had to write a story. I wasn’t going through all that work again.”

  Angie snickered. Obviously a kindred spirit.

  “I wrote a bunny story,” Rulli said. “It was in second grade.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Pat looked up from the papers he was looking at. “We’re bunny buddies, then.”

  “Yeah.” Rulli looked pleased at the idea.

  “I think bunny stories are dumb,” Angie said, and leaned on the arm of the chair to peer over Pat’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

  “My report card from third grade.”

  “Uh-oh,” Angie said with a giggle in her voice. “You got a D.”

  “What in?” Rulli was trying to stand on his tiptoes to see.

  Pat looked anything but pleased. “Spelling.” He glared at Rulli as he tucked the report card under his bunny story. “I had a run of bad luck.”

  Angie snickered as she ignored the glare that was now turned on her. Trisha struggled to keep a serious look on her face.

  “Hey, look at this,” Angie cried as she pulled something from the box. “It’s a pocketknife.”

  “That was my brother’s.” Trisha could clearly see the shadow that crossed his face. She could feel her heart go out to Pat. “I got it for him for Christmas one year and he thought it was the greatest thing he’d ever gotten.”

  “It’s cool,” Angie said, pulling the blades out.

  They looked about as sharp as a butter knife, so Trisha figured Angie’s fingers were safe. But was Pat? He was looking off toward the backyard, obviously lost in the past somewhere. She wished there were a way to help him accept the past, to remove that burden of guilt he seemed to always carry with him. But she knew of no way. Maybe all she could do was give him a little space.

  “Look at these,” she said, pulling out an envelope of old photographs.

  They were faded and curled with a brown tinge to them, but even without such clues, she would have known they were old from the people in them. They were group photos, taken on the front porch of what was now Pat’s house. The women were in white, frilly long dresses, the men in suits with starched collars. It must have been taken in the early 1900s.