Nancy Herkness

by Shower Of Stars

  “Um, no thanks, I had a big breakfast. I’ll just have some chips,” she said, scrabbling in the big wooden bowl of organic sweet potato chips.

  “What’s got you spooked?” he asked, putting down his sandwich.

  “Spooked? Nothing.” She took a deep breath. “We have to talk about some personal subjects. And I hate lying to Rhonda.”

  “It’s a little late to develop scruples,” he said, tilting a glass of lemonade to his lips.

  Charlie tore her eyes away from the ripple in the muscles of his throat as he swallowed. “I’ve always had scruples. I just use tremendous self-discipline to overcome them,” she said with false flippancy.

  He chuckled. “Let’s get our lies in line then.”

  With a supreme act of will, Charlie concentrated on the task at hand. They went over the spontaneous wedding story she had made up and got the details right. They discussed Jack’s retirement story and nailed down the time frame. When they got to the topic of their philosophy on child-rearing, Jack picked up the pile of papers he had sent ahead.

  “I put all that in the autobiographical section.”

  “I didn’t want to read that part without your permission.”

  “Those scruples again,” he said, but there was approval in his voice. He handed her three sheets of paper stapled together. “Go ahead and read it. You’ll need to know it all for the interview.”

  She would rather have read it in private, but Charlie took the papers and settled back in her chair. The beginning was a very sanitized version of a boy’s life. His mother and father had divorced when he was ten. He had one younger brother. Charlie was surprised to discover he hadn’t finished high school; instead he had a high school equivalency diploma. She was aware of his lack of college education although one would never guess it from knowing him.

  His work history was more revealing. He had gone into meteorite hunting at age seventeen. Charlie frowned. She remembered his story of the first meteor shower he had ever seen. But at seventeen how had he even known there was such a thing as meteorite hunting? He must have been a very focused young man.

  She came to the section on child-rearing. He had written a fairly lengthy essay. She took a deep breath and plunged in. Much of it was similar to what she had written since she had given him her essay to read. The penultimate paragraph caught her attention.

  Children should be allowed to be children as long as possible. Every effort should be made to shield them from cruel situations and harsh choices that an adult would find difficult to face. It is the parents’ responsibility to protect their children even as they teach them the wisdom and judgment that will enable the young people in their charge to make these hard decisions.

  There had been nothing like this in her own essay. Every instinct said this was a statement from the heart. Something very bad had happened in Jack’s childhood. She finished the essay and put the papers down on her lap. “Very thorough, if a little bland.”

  He smirked. “I’m doing my best to fade into the background.”

  Charlie looked at the length of him stretched out in her chair, at the luminously blue eyes, at the shift of muscle under fabric as he leaned over to set the plate down on the table, and burst out laughing. “You have about as much chance of doing that as the fireball we saw.”

  “Now how should I take that?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. “There’s the blaze of glory, the brilliance and the heat,” he drawled the last word. “On the other hand, the glory is brief and generally ends in total destruction.”

  “You could take it to mean that you’re noticeable.”

  “Thus grounding my flights of fancy.”

  “There’s another small matter I want to discuss,” Charlie said, brushing aside his caprice. She didn’t want him charming her just now. “Sallyanne will be expecting us to sleep in the same room since we’re married. I’ll use the fold-out couch in the living room so you can have my bed. But I won’t fold it out until after she’s in bed for the night.”

  “A preemptive strike,” he said almost to himself. “A gentleman always takes the couch. You can keep your own bed.”

  Charlie pushed aside her recollection of the last time he’d played the gentleman. “I have to get up early to get her ready for school, so the couch makes more sense for me.”

  “I only sleep late when I’ve been up meteor watching. Don’t argue, sugar, unless you want to join me on the couch.” He stood up and stretched, exactly as he had on the morning after the first meteor shower.

  Charlie locked her gaze resolutely on the tray she was loading with plates and glasses. She picked it up and held it in front of her like a shield. “Would you like to come with me to pick up Sallyanne?” she asked.

  “No, let’s have the introduction here. I want to be able to talk with her face-to-face, not in a schoolyard or over a car seat.”

  She nodded her approval and carried the tray into the kitchen. He walked in behind her, and the kitchen walls suddenly shrank around them. Charlie put the tray down with a clatter and looked at her watch. “I’ll do the dishes later. I should drop off Major and get going to the school.”

  He picked up a glass and pulled open the dishwasher door. “See you soon.”

  Charlie called the dog and fled.

  In a half an hour, she was back with Sallyanne in tow. They had discussed the new man in the house, but Charlie held her breath as Sallyanne preceded her through the front door. Jack came out of the kitchen with a smile that made Charlie’s internal temperature shoot up ten degrees. The dimple was strongly in evidence, and the ice in his blue eyes had melted completely. .

  “Hey, Sallyanne,” he said, striding over to squat in front of her. “I’m Jack.”

  Charlie gave herself a mental shake. All that warmth and sunshine is for Sallyanne, not me.

  “Hello, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, putting out her hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” he said, engulfing her small hand in his. “I’ll be staying here with you as much as I can, but I know Charlie told you I’m real busy with business right now.”

  “Yes, sir, she did.”

  “I’m a lucky man to be living with two beautiful ladies.”

  Sallyanne giggled. Charlie snorted. However, she gave him full marks for immediately getting down to Sallyanne’s eye-level. Tall men were intimidating as she remembered from her childhood.

  “Charlie is very beautiful, isn’t she?” the child said.

  “The most beautiful woman in the world. That’s why I married her.”

  “Let’s have some cookies,” Charlie said, brushing past Jack with enough force to make him brace his hand on the floor to keep his balance.

  He chuckled and swept Sallyanne up in his arms as he stood. She shrieked with delight.

  Jack continued to lay on the charm with a trowel all evening.

  Charlie supposed she should be grateful things were going so well between her “husband” and her ward but somewhere it hurt that he would smile for a child he considered an inconvenience and not for her.

  After Sallyanne was in bed, Charlie took out the sheets for the sofa bed. When she came back to the living room, Jack had already flipped open the mattress. He took the fitted sheet from her and expertly slipped the corner on before smoothing it in her direction.

  “I think it went well,” he said in a low voice. “She’s a nice little girl.”

  “You’re great with children,” she agreed, brushing out some wrinkles. “You should have ten.”

  “Not me, sweetheart.” His face was closed. “I’m a wanderer. And wanderers don’t make good fathers.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “I wish I was.”

  An odd response. She shook out the top sheet.

  “Did you see your father much after your parents’ divorce?”

  “More … questions, Madame Journalist? I thought we’d called a moratorium on those.”

  He had been about
to say something else. In that pause after “more,” Charlie had heard a revelation forming. “Sorry. It’s one of those occupational hazards.”

  “When do I get to see the meteor-shower article?” He tucked a pillow under his chin and slid the pillowcase on.

  “I decided to honor the spirit of our agreement so I’m not writing anything about you.” Charlie plumped the comforter she had spread over the sofa bed.

  “I see.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “The auction is coming up soon, so I’m looking for publicity just now. The right kind of publicity.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? I have a rough draft on my computer. I’ll print out a copy for you to approve.”

  “Thanks, sugar. I appreciate it.”

  Now he was smiling for her. The soft light of the table lamp threw shadows over half his face, but she could see the gleam of strong white teeth and the hollow of his dimple. His eyes flickered with something she thought it was better not to put a name to. She arranged the last pillow on his bed. “All done. You can have the bathroom first.”

  He nodded and disappeared down the dark hallway.

  Charlie looked down at the bed they had made together. Instead of perfectly plumped pillows and pristinely flat sheets, she saw the shape of Jack’s body under the quilt while his bare shoulders rumpled the sheets. From an indent in the pillow, he smiled at her with those blue flames dancing in his eyes. “An overactive imagination is a dangerous thing,” she murmured, turning on her heel and heading for her bedroom.

  She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. Twinkle slunk out from under the bed and sat down to wash his ears. Since she had company, she put on a white, man’s T-shirt and a pair of flannel boxer shorts. She decided to burn off the excess energy humming through her by brushing her hair one hundred strokes, something she hadn’t done since childhood. So she stood in front of her mirror and started counting.

  Fifty-one, fifty-two… She was interrupted by a light tap on the door. “Come in.”

  The knob turned and Jack leaned in the door. “The bathroom is …”

  He stopped.

  Her brush halted in midstroke as she watched the flames she had only imagined before flare to life in those cold eyes. Fire and ice. She had never understood the power of opposites as she did now.

  “Damn!” he said. The door slammed, and she was alone again.

  Her brush hit the floor with a bang.

  Jack turned his back on the door to Charlie’s bedroom and stood for a long moment, remembering the sight of her standing in a pool of light, her long legs bare and her hair streaming down over her shoulders and back, shimmering like a fine chardonnay.

  He needed to move. Fast.

  Striding over to the French doors, he unbolted, unlocked and unlatched the various security devices with less deftness than usual. Then he was outside, heading for the channel’s edge. The breeze from the ocean was bracing. He inhaled it gratefully. Two chairs sat invitingly on a small stone patio but Jack paced along the cement wall that kept the water from undercutting the lawns along the channel.

  What had Miguel said about long blond hair? That it could turn into a rope. Her hair was more like a fuse that ignited a nuclear reaction. It fried his brain and made his body want to explode. Inside her.

  He needed to take a long, grueling run. But he couldn’t leave the doors unlocked, and he was not going to go near her again tonight, even just to get a key. Tomorrow he got to touch her.

  Wrong word choice.

  Tomorrow he had to touch her for the benefit of the social worker. He looked at the water below him, the lights glittering off its wavelets. It looked cool and welcoming. He started to unbutton his shirt, then muttered a curse and started back toward the house.

  Rhonda Brown thought Charlie and Jack Lanett both looked heavy-eyed and tired. She attributed it to a long night without sleep, especially when she watched Jack use any excuse to put his hands on his new bride. The man was clearly in love.

  One point in favor of the surprise wedding.

  By the time she had spent three hours in their company, Rhonda was convinced the marriage was real and the two of them suited each other well. She had no doubts about Charlie’s commitment to parenting. Jack was harder to read. Charlie had warned her he was a very private man, but she got glimpses of the intensity under the control. He was a charmer all right but there was substance there. And one paragraph in his essay had convinced her he was good father material. He had talked about protecting children from adult decisions with total conviction.

  “All right, you’re approved,” she said, closing her file with a snap. “As long as all the other paperwork comes through without a problem.”

  The smile that lit up Charlie’s face chased away all traces of honeymooner’s fatigue. Jack picked up his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re going to be a mother,” he said softly against her palm.

  “And you’re going to be a father,” Rhonda said.

  “Of course I am. But I understand what this means to Charlie, given her past. This is a tribute to her.”

  Charlie sat mute, unable to frame a coherent sentence. It was done! Six months from now, she would bring home her new baby daughter. Tears welled up and spilled onto her cheeks; she broke down and sobbed. She felt Jack’s arms go around her, and she let him pull her against his chest. It felt good to burrow into his shoulder and have his shirt soak up the salty tears.

  But she had to say something to Rhonda so she leaned away and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy, and so relieved we finally can go forward. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me, honey. You earned it.” Rhonda was putting folders back in her briefcase. “By the way, I’m expecting a response from social services in Tennessee any day now. Then I’ll know how to proceed with Sallyanne.”

  Charlie felt a pang. “So soon?”

  “The sooner the better,” Rhonda said, giving her a knowing look. “You two are getting attached to each other, and since she’s not staying, that’s a bad thing.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “You know she’s right,” Jack said, tightening the arm he still had around her. “You have a hard enough time giving up the dogs and cats you foster.”

  How did he know that? Charlie was sure she’d never told him.

  But Rhonda was saying good-bye, and Charlie had to focus on being a good hostess. Not that Jack was any slouch in that area; he had been as smooth as silk with the social worker. He had also put on a very convincing show of being an adoring husband. If he touched her one more time, she would start smoking. Charlie decided she was going to take a long run as soon as Rhonda left, preferably on the beach in the frigid surf.

  Jack closed Rhonda’s car door and lifted a hand in farewell. As he came up the sidewalk toward where Charlie stood on the front porch, he said, “Congratulations on your approval.”

  “Thank you for doing such a great acting job.”

  “I’m going to take a—” he began.

  Charlie had already started to say, “I’m going to go for a—”

  “Run,” they finished together.

  “Great minds think alike,” she said.

  Jack frowned. “I want to really push it.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down,” Charlie said, stung. “It’s a big beach, and we can go in opposite directions.”

  He walked past her into the house without another word.

  Perversely, she decided she liked the adoring husband act better.

  They changed, stretched and jogged to the beach with a minimum of conversation. Charlie pointed him south and watched his stride lengthen. She indulged herself in the view of his backside and muscled legs in fluid motion for a few seconds, then she and Major turned to run north and along the channel.

  She got home and showered long before Jack. His gray T-shirt was almost solid black with dampness when he came thr
ough the door. “Is that sweat or ocean spray?” she asked.

  “Both.” He headed straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. After downing half of it, he said, “I needed that.”

  “Speaking from recent experience, a hot shower is the icing on the cake.”

  “Do I stink?” he asked with a sudden grin.

  “Not at all. You smell like a rose.” And he looked utterly marvelous lounging against her kitchen counter as though he belonged there.

  He tossed back the rest of the water and wiped his mouth with the white hand towel he had slung around his neck. “I’ll go clean up.”

  He was using Charlie’s bedroom to dress when she went to pick up Sallyanne at school. By the time she returned, he had on a crisply pressed pair of chinos and a light blue polo shirt. His hair was still damp and showed a tendency to curl at the longish ends.

  He scooped Sallyanne up into a hug and carried her to the back porch where he had put out lemonade and oatmeal cookies. Charlie noticed Sallyanne didn’t protest that she had to do her homework, but then Charlie wouldn’t have protested either. The three of them spent a delightful afternoon and evening together. After dinner, they played a vicious game of Crazy Eights—with “Nasty Twos” and “Killer Fours.” Charlie asked Jack to read Sallyanne her bedtime chapter of Narnia and he did so with great drama, changing his voice for each character.

  After she said her prayers, Sallyanne asked hesitantly, “Charlie, may I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  Jack leaned down and ruffled her hair before he kissed her cheek. “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

  “What is it?” Charlie asked when the door closed behind him.

  “Ma’am, I told a fib before.”

  “About what, honey?”

  “About Major. Well, about dogs.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not really allergic. I’m afraid of them, and Mama said it was easier just to say I’m allergic. She said it wasn’t really a lie because I’m allergic to them in my brain.”

  “That’s true.”

  “But it is a lie, and I made Major go live somewhere else because I lied. And that’s not right.” Sallyanne’s voice quavered, and tears brimmed in her eyes.