Tender Loving Care

by Jennifer Greene

  Carrying her suitcase back to her bedroom, she dropped it just inside and noted that Marjorie’s was neatly packed and ready for her departure in the morning. All she could think of was that Marjorie’s son would also be leaving all too soon.

  Switching off the light, she tiptoed toward the boys’ room. The fuzzy darkness and silence enfolded her like a soothing balm as she moved closer to the bed. Both boys were asleep. Snuggled up to his blanket, Parker had kicked off the rest of his covers. She bent over to tuck him in again, dropped a soft kiss on his cheek and then glanced at Aaron.

  That fast, two arms reached up to her in the darkness. With a smile and a tug on her heart, she crossed to the other side of the double bed and leaned over to hug him.

  “You’re back,” he whispered. “Is Uncle Rafe back, too?”

  “Sure-he’s in the kitchen right now. Did you have fun with Uncle Rafe’s mom?”

  “Yes. Snookums? Don’t go.”

  She sank on the edge of the bed, smoothing his hair and the covers. “I’ll stay for a minute, but you have to go to sleep, lovebug. It’s late.”

  “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

  Something welled in Zoe’s throat. “Didn’t you remember? I promised you we’d come home tonight.”

  “So did Mommy. But she didn’t come back. Zoe?”

  “What, darling?”

  “Mommy’s dead. She isn’t coming back ever and my daddy isn’t either.”

  He said it easily, bluntly, four-year-old style, as if he were informing her of something she might not have been sure of before. Zoe studied his eyes for tears, but she was the only one with sudden diamonds in her eyes. Propping her elbows on both sides of him, she leaned closer. “Know something?” she whispered lightly.

  “What?”

  “Part of your mommy and daddy can’t ever die for you, did you know that? Any time you’re feeling sad, all you have to do is close your eyes and feel how much they love you. Close your eyes and you can remember them kissing you good night; you can remember last Christmas; you can remember making cookies with your mommy and being snuggled on your daddy’s lap. You’re always going to be able to do that, sweetheart. Any time you want to, all you have to do is close your eyes to feel how much they love you. That love’s still there, and it won’t ever go away.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Can we see your whales again tomorrow?”

  Smiling, she tucked the covers around his neck and kissed him again. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  Slouched on the sofa with his long legs stretched out in front of him, Rafe had had his eyes peeled on the doorway since she’d left. When she finally wandered back in, he could see how tired she was. Pale mauve shadows made her eyes look huge, and her face was paler than cream. She needed sleep…but something more than fatigue had been eating at her all afternoon and evening.

  He crooked his finger and motioned her next to him. She sank down on the couch’s center cushion like a duchess, all straight spine and a proper distance away, not at all what he had in mind. He figured she was worried about propriety for his mother’s sake.

  He was worried about Zoe. He hadn’t been able to make a dent in her long silence on the trip home-not that silence in itself had to be dangerous. No two people could have been any closer than they’d been over the weekend, and in his head he knew he’d gotten through to her. He’d felt her love, and heaven knew he felt oceans of love himself for her. As soon as his mother was gone, they could talk. Zoe was temporarily overtired, but there was no reason to think anything was seriously wrong.

  But there was. His pulse ticked an uneasy beat, affirming it. Wrapping his fingers around her shoulders, he gently but persistently tugged until, like an accordion, she finally folded closer. Marge was talking thirteen to the dozen. His mother always talked thirteen to the dozen, and Zoe was starting to smile…but it wasn’t a Zoe smile.

  Zoe smiles were spontaneous and mischievous and showed off perfect white teeth. When she really laughed, her eyes overflowed with joy. He tucked her into the curve of his shoulder, but her spine was still rigid, and the curve of her lips was distinctly polite. He told himself again that he could wait until his mother was gone in the morning. And knew, immediately, that he couldn’t manage more than twenty more minutes before hauling her off to some private spot where he could find out what was wrong.

  “…I should have brought pictures of when they were younger.” Marge’s knitting needles clicked as she rocked. “I’ve got tons of photographs, Zoe. Everyone’s the same. Brian and Nathan stand there looking like angels, their hair all combed, their shirts tucked in…and then there’s Rafe. He always stood in the left side of the pictures; I don’t know why. If he didn’t have a black eye, he always had a scrape that showed. I swear I could have safety-pinned his shirts and they still wouldn’t have stayed tucked in…”

  “Mom, Zoe is bored,” Rafe said quellingly.

  “She is not.”

  “I am not,” Zoe affirmed.

  The two women apparently enjoyed discussing embarrassing moments in his past history. Rafe might have been amused-his mother inevitably embellished the stories, and with such relish-if he hadn’t seen what she was doing. His mom was a pro at sneakily maneuvering in exactly the direction she wanted it to go. That she’d taken to Zoe the instant she met her was obvious. That she was ignoring her son sent him the warning message that she was gearing up to delicately pry, a complication he definitely didn’t need.

  “Anyway, you’re having your own experience raising boys, it would seem.” Marge propped her glasses down on her nose to look over them at Zoe. Her steady stream of light conversation only gradually slowed to a gentler, more serious pace. “I think you two have done something perfectly wonderful, taking on those kids. Shouldering all the responsibility and juggling jobs and upsetting your lives-I don’t think many people would have done it. But I have to admit I’m not very clear on your plans from here. Rafe mentioned he’d have to be back in Montana-”

  “At the end of next week,” Rafe finished for her, and droned warningly, “and I already told you we haven’t made firm plans about the children yet.”

  “Did you, dear?”

  “Yes. And I told you why we hadn’t talked yet, which was that we agreed from the beginning to try not to form conclusions or make judgments until we’d spent as much time together with the kids as we could.” Anyone who’d ever met Rafe could tell that the subject was now closed.

  Marge chuckled sympathetically, looking directly at Zoe with an onward-and-upward determination that would have impressed a general. “Zoe, when Rafe leaves next week, are you staying here with the children? Or-”

  “We haven’t discussed that either, Mom. But we’ll work it out.” For Rafe, the discussion of the subject was now ended.

  “Of course you will, of course you will. It’s all so complicated, with your jobs and all. I was just wondering…”

  “Mother-”

  Matched sets of blue eyes were snapping at each other. All Zoe could think of was that she wasn’t ready-maybe she’d never be ready to face the impending talk with Rafe. But now was no worse than any other time, and she wouldn’t have mother and son bickering when she could prevent it with a few words. “Naturally, you mother is curious about our plans,” she scolded Rafe gently, and then directed a deliberate smile at his mother. “I’m taking the children, Marge.”

  It was an excellent argument-stopper. Rafe stiffened in total silence like a poker beside her. And Marge’s lips stopped moving for the first time in half an hour; her knitting needles even stopped clicking. Zoe definitely had the floor.

  Her palms dampened, and a huge ball of sadness swelled in her throat. Her voice stayed calm and quietly assured only because she demanded that of herself. “As Rafe said, we haven’t worked out all the details,” she told Marjorie, and admitted frankly, “He’s going to argue with me. You’ve got a wonderful son, Marge. I can’t t
ell you how warm and loving he’s been with the kids. He’d take on total responsibility for them in a minute, but I’m not about to let him do that.”

  “Dammit, Zoe-”

  Gently, she raised her voice, her eyes focused only on his mother. “His work is important to him, and occasionally he’s had to travel because of it, which would be almost impossible with two children. And in Montana, I can’t imagine where he’d find day care. So much that he needs and wants in his life would be complicated by children. From the very beginning, I knew it was more logical for me to take them. My job hours are more flexible, and my work is more settled.”

  Marge stopped rocking altogether. “Yes, but my dear, I thought you two-I was so sure that-”

  “Mom, you’re tired,” Rafe announced.

  If mother and son occasionally bickered, it was rather obvious their wavelengths were also finely tuned to each other. “Good heavens, I certainly am.” Marge shoved her yarn back into the knitting bag and stood up. “I’m absolutely exhausted. Can’t imagine what I was thinking of, talking this late. It’s after ten, and I’ve got a flight to catch in the morning. Now, you two just finish this nice pot of tea. Don’t bother about me…”

  A good fairy couldn’t have disappeared faster, only Zoe touched her fingers wearily to her temples, not certain she wouldn’t have been happier if the good fairy had stayed. Rafe had lurched to his feet and was standing with his hands on his hips, a glowering frown beamed directly at her. She saw a thousand things in his eyes. Frustration and love. Anxiety and irritation. Mostly she saw a man damn close to exploding, but his voice ladled out the surprise of gentleness. “Zoe, you’re so tired you can’t see straight. I’m going to get you a brandy. Just sit there, would you? Just stay right there.”

  She nodded, but the minute he was out of sight she dashed for the bathroom.

  Hands trembling, she closed the bathroom door, turned on the light and flicked on the cold-water tap, so that the noise of the water would muffle the harsh low sound that escaped from her throat. Tears made rainbows in her eyes.

  Crying was foolish. Her decision to take the children alone was best, and the only one she could make. She felt good about it. Wonderful. Ecstatic, in fact, and pressing a cool washcloth firmly to her eyes, she willed herself not to cry.

  She was afraid he was going to argue, that he was going to try to talk her into a foursome. Being Rafe, he’d do that out of a sense of responsibility. She couldn’t let him do that. Over the long weeks, Rafe had given her an incomparable gift. Herself. She was Zoe again, the strong woman she’d forgotten how to believe in since her hysterectomy. She had only one gift to give him of equal measure-a sensitivity to his real feelings, as he’d been sensitive to hers.

  In so many ways, he’d tried to tell her he didn’t want the responsibility of children. She hadn’t listened, but the weekend in Oregon had told her what he wanted and needed in his life: a woman who was free to dash off on a whim. The adventure of a one-on-one relationship with no strings attached. Freedom and privacy and spontaneity. He wanted a woman to climb mountains with; she’d always known it.

  Rafe wanted her, she knew. And she also knew that he loved her, but in time he was bound to feel resentful if the lifestyle he really wanted wasn’t possible. He’d find another woman, someone to whom he alone mattered, a relationship in which he wasn’t roped down by years of sticky fingers and interrupted dinners and night-walking little ones with colds.

  She was really very happy she’d come up with a solution that worked for all of them. Any minute now…any minute now…she was going to feel incredibly happy.

  When the doorknob turned, she straightened instantly. Then, bending her head, she wrung out the washcloth. “I was just coming out,” she said brightly.

  Rafe came in and quietly closed the door behind him.

  “Really. I was just coming back out…”

  He reached around her to turn off the faucet. The silly thing was still running, and in the mirror her complexion looked somewhere past chalk and halfway to gray. Two strong hands cinched her waist, turned her around and lifted her to the vanity. His fists came down like jail bars on either side of her. Her lungs suddenly had a hard time finding air, and she couldn’t seem to look past the third button on his shirt.

  “I was-”

  “No, you weren’t, Zoe. I don’t know how long you were planning to hide out here, but my guess is two or three years.”

  She took a breath. “Your mother’s still awake.”

  “My mother is entitled to stay up all night if she likes. She’s a grown woman. She can make that kind of decision all by herself.”

  “She’ll think there’s something funny if we don’t-”

  “Probably. I really don’t care. Put your arms around my neck, honey.”

  “That won’t-” she took a huge breath “-change anything.”

  “Certainly it will. It’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better.” He raised one limp arm and curled it around his neck, then the other. One look at her face and a shudder had wrenched his heart. If the damn woman ever tried to hide tears from him again, she was going to get the worst scolding she’d ever heard in her life…or maybe not. He’d never managed to stay angry with Zoe for longer than two seconds at a time, and anger was distinctly the last emotion he felt for her now.

  He nudged her forehead with his, well aware she was fiercely fighting to control her emotions. “One of us is slightly on the selfish side, Snookums.” He meant to make his tone light and soothing, but somehow it escaped like the scrape of a tire on gravel.

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know, dammit. You think it’s you.”

  “But it is, Rafe. I’m the selfish one.” She tilted her face up. “I’ve spent six weeks thinking of me, of what I was afraid of, of what I could handle, of what I wanted and needed. You must have thought I never heard what you said about your own feelings. Liking kids isn’t the same thing as wanting them. You’ve tried to tell me in a dozen ways that kids weren’t important to you.”

  “I worked damned hard to give you that impression, but I never guessed it would backfire like this. I want the monsters, Zoe. Did you think I didn’t?”

  “You said-”

  “That kids weren’t important to me. That they’d never mattered. That I didn’t want the responsibility of raising them. I know what I told you, and I admit that a few months ago I wasn’t planning on listening to four-year-olds’ monologues on a steady basis, but it’s obvious that sort of thing grows on you. We’re not just talking growing; we’re talking clinging ivy. So we start adoption procedures tomorrow; all problems should be easy to solve.” His matter-of-fact tone deteriorated into vibrating emotion. “You’re the troublesome one, woman. Now, are you going to listen to me?”

  “Rafe-”

  “No talking. Just listen.” She was such a mess. Where the washcloth had pushed up her hair, he pulled it back down again. For token color, he gently pinched her cheeks. And to erase the agony of uncertainty from her eyes, he lifted her chin so she could see the unquestionable sincerity in his.

  “I love you,” he said gruffly. “But if I’d let you think I could handle the kids, I was afraid you’d take a fast train in the wrong direction. I was afraid you’d think I wanted a package deal like that bastard who hurt you, and I was afraid you were overwhelmed by the responsibility of caring for our two miniature scoundrels, and I was afraid you’d feel pushed because we’ve had too damn little time alone together. Only I’d had enough time about ten minutes after I met you, Zoe, and living with a woman day and night for six weeks is a hell of a good way to get to know her. I’ve seen you mad, scared, sexy, irritable, joyful, serious, silly. I love you, and I’m talking long term. Permanent lease. Total dominion. So just say yes, and for God’s sake don’t start thinking.”

  “Yes.”

  She wasn’t sure he heard her. At some point during his ranting, his head had started coming down. His lips homed in on hers as her arms tighten
ed around his neck. He molded an unfamiliar kiss on her lips. Her mouth was still sensitive from a long weekend of the taste and texture of Rafe; she thought she knew every variety of kiss in his more-than-versatile repertoire. Not this one.

  This kiss was the fragile plea of a man who needed her to believe in him. His lips savored hers, holding on, afraid to let go. She tasted urgency and tenderness, beguilingly sweet need and the strong flavor of lonely desperation. Love me, said his kiss. I need you, Zoe.

  She kissed back, so hard that tears stung her eyes. Believing in him was a choice she’d made a long time ago. Believing in herself had been the tough part, but she really couldn’t doubt how he felt. Not now.

  His lips trailed down along her jaw to her throat. “I love the lady who thinks she has no courage. The one who jumps in a tank with a three-ton whale. I love the lady with that tiny scar on her tummy.” His lips pressed in her hair, on her temples. “I love Snookums. I love the woman who thinks she’s so selfish. The one who crams two kids in a bathtub with her.” His kisses coasted down her forehead, with one for the tip of her nose. “I love the Zoe who wears crazy hats, and the one who comes apart at the seams when she’s touched in certain places. Can’t you put me out of my misery, Zoe? Say yes.”

  “I already did, love,” she whispered.

  He raised his head. “Then say it again.”

  “Yes.”

  “And again.”

  “Yes.”

  Slowly, he lifted her off the vanity and leaned back against the far wall, drawing her with him. Thigh pressed on thigh, heart beat on heart. The blue of his eyes made the sky look dull, and his smile possessively took in every inch of her face. “You don’t get to take it back, you know.”

  “I don’t want to take it back. Can’t you understand how agonizing it would have been for me to let you walk out of my life? But I wanted what was right for you, Rafe. I didn’t want you to have to sacrifice-”

  “I can’t seem to tell you enough that I’m the only selfish one in this twosome. I’m getting it all, sweet. Exactly what I want. Don’t you dare still doubt it-or ever doubt that you matter more to me than life.”