Home Again

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Joey. He looked enough like Mark to be his son, with his tousled black hair and big, dark eyes. He appeared small for his age, his feet not reaching the floor.

  Even with the distance between them she could sense Joey’s vulnerability and wanted to scoop him up, hug him and tell him everything was going to be just fine.

  Objectivity, Dr. Kennedy, Cedar told herself, then crossed the room to stand in front of the pair.

  “Hello, Mark,” she said, smiling. “And you must be Joey. I’ve been eager to meet you.”

  Joey glanced up at her, then quickly directed his attention to his hands that were clutched tightly in his lap.

  “Say hello, Joey,” Mark said.

  “’Lo,” Joey mumbled.

  “I’d like to chat with you a bit, Joey,” Cedar said, extending one hand toward the little boy. “Shall we go into my office? We’ll let your Uncle Mark stay out here and finish reading his magazine.”

  “No,” Joey said.

  “Hey, buddy, we talked about this,” Mark said. “I’ll be right here waiting for you, I promise. You go with Dr. Kennedy.”

  “Call me Cedar, Joey,” she said.

  Joey frowned and looked up at her. “That’s a weird name.”

  “Oh, cripe,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Joey, you don’t tell someone that their name is weird.”

  “Well, it is,” Joey said.

  Cedar laughed. “It’s different, that’s for sure. It was my mother’s last name before she got married. She thought by sharing it with me, it would connect us in a special way.”

  “Is your mom dead?” Joey asked.

  “No, she isn’t,” Cedar said. “She and my father live in Florida now. I miss them very much.”

  Joey folded his thin little arms over his chest. “You’d miss them more if they were dead people ’cause you couldn’t talk to them on the phone or nothing. Nothing.”

  “I never thought of that,” Cedar said. “Let’s go into my office and you can explain it to me further.”

  Joey slid off the sofa, but ignored Cedar’s outstretched hand. Cedar smiled at Mark, but he just shook his head again, a frown on his face.

  “Did Joey get a snack, Bethany?” Cedar said. “Busy boys are hungry after school.”

  “He certainly did,” Bethany said. “He had a juice box and a granola bar.” Her secretary was a plump woman in her early fifties, who was in the process of consuming her own box of juice and a granola bar.

  “Good,” Cedar said, then placed her hand lightly on Joey’s back and guided him into her office, shutting the door behind them.

  In the office Cedar patted the seat of one of the chairs fronting her desk, then sat down in the other one once Joey was settled.

  “How come you’re not sitting behind your desk like the principal or something?” Joey said.

  “I like to sit here when I’m getting to know a new friend.” Cedar paused. “Joey, would you like to talk some more about how you can’t speak with your parents on the telephone?”

  “No,” he said, drumming his fingers on his thighs and watching the repeated motion.

  “Okay. So, tell me, do you like your teacher at school?”

  Joey shrugged.

  “Have you made some new friends?”

  Joey shrugged.

  “Are you getting along all right with your Uncle Mark?”

  Joey shrugged.

  “Are you tired of eating scrambled eggs?”

  Joey’s head snapped up. “Those eggs are so gross. They’re never good. Sometimes they run all over my plate and sometimes they’re hard as a rock and…I hate scrambled eggs the way Uncle Mark cooks them. Totally, totally gross.”

  Cedar nodded. “They do sound gross. Have you told Uncle Mark you’d rather not have scrambled eggs anymore?”

  “No. No, ’cause he…he might get mad at me or something and tell me I can’t live with him, and I don’t have anywhere else to live because…because I don’t.”

  “Because your parents were killed in the accident?” Cedar said gently.

  “That’s none of your business,” Joey yelled.

  “Okay. Let’s go back to discussing those gross scrambled eggs. I’ll make a deal with you.”

  Joey narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

  “I’ll be the one to tell your Uncle Mark you’d rather not have scrambled eggs again. I guarantee that he won’t get angry about it.”

  “Bet he will. He’s grumpy.”

  “We’ll see,” Cedar said. “I’ll do that for you, but you have to do something for me. That’s how this deal works.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Well, if you don’t want gross eggs, we have to decide what you do want, then teach Uncle Mark how to make it. You invite me to your house and we’ll give him a cooking lesson. That’s your part of the deal. You invite me over and we, together, show Uncle Mark how to make your choice and tell him it can’t be gross when he does it. How’s that? What would you like to eat instead of scrambled eggs?”

  Joey shrugged.

  “Well, I guess you’re stuck with gross eggs then.”

  “No, wait,” Joey said. “I’d rather have chicken with barbecue sauce. I really like that. But Uncle Mark can’t ever learn how to make it. No way. He got a big fat chicken one time and stuck it in a pan without barbecue sauce on it or nothing, just a fat naked chicken and we waited for it to cook and stuff, you know? I was really hungry and hours went by and then Uncle Mark figured out he didn’t turn on the stove right and the stupid chicken was just sitting there. Cold. I mean, that is so dumb.”

  Cedar laughed. “So what did you have for dinner? No, let me guess. Gross scrambled eggs.”

  A hint of a smile appeared on Joey’s face, then disappeared in the next instant.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Eggs again.”

  “Okay, my new friend. We’re in business. I’ll buy what we need to make barbecue chicken, bring it to your house, and you and I will show Uncle Mark how to fix it.”

  “He’ll never go for this,” Joey said, rolling his eyes.

  “Let’s find out,” Cedar said, getting to her feet. “I’ll go get him.”

  “He’s going to be really, really grumpy,” Joey said, then sighed.

  Cedar opened the office door. “Mark? Would you come in please?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” he said, getting to his feet and hurrying across the room. “How’s it going?”

  “Joey and I have something of great importance to discuss with you.”

  “Already?” Mark said, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, that’s terrific.”

  “Mark, you take the chair opposite Joey and I’ll sit behind my desk now,” Cedar said.

  Mark settled onto the chair and looked at Cedar, an expression of anticipation on his face.

  “Joey and I have talked at length,” she said, “and I have agreed to be the spokesperson here.”

  “I’m listening, believe me,” Mark said, leaning forward.

  “Mark,” Cedar said seriously, “you make extremely gross scrambled eggs.”

  “I…what?”

  “Yes. Totally gross,” Cedar said. “Joey would prefer not to eat the scrambled eggs you prepare. Ever again.”

  “What?” Mark repeated.

  “So, Joey and I are going to teach you how to make what he would like to eat. Barbecue chicken.”

  “This is the matter of great importance that you wanted to discuss with me?” Mark said, none too quietly.

  “I told you, I told you,” Joey said, stiffening in his chair. “He’s getting grumpy right now. See? He is.”

  “I am not grumpy,” Mark said, then cleared his throat. “I’m…I’m just a bit surprised about the subject, that’s all. My eggs are gross, Joey?”

  “The worst,” Joey said. “Totally.”

  “I didn’t think they were that bad,” Mark said, frowning. “They wouldn’t win first place in an egg-cooking contest, but…you want barbecue chicken? I didn’t have much luck with that
other chicken, remember?”

  “Yeah, well, this time Cedar and me are going to show you how to do barbecue chicken right,” Joey said. “Then you’ll know how to do barbecue chicken and gross eggs will be history.”

  “Got it,” Mark said, a bemused expression on his face.

  “What evening this week would be good for you?” Cedar asked. She flipped through her engagement calendar. “We’ll cancel our Wednesday afternoon appointment. I’m free Thursday or Friday.”

  “Pick one,” Mark said, throwing up his hands.

  “Friday night?” Cedar said, then recorded it. “I’ll be at your house by five-thirty.”

  “But I work until…” Mark hesitated. “Five-thirty, it is.”

  “Good,” she said. “Joey, it was wonderful to meet you and I am really looking forward to cooking with you and enjoying that chicken. I’ll see you Friday night. Why don’t you go see Bethany now and tell her I said you could pick a piece of candy from the jar. I want to speak to your Uncle Mark for a second.”

  “’Kay,” Joey said, then slid off the chair and ran out of the office.

  Cedar leaned forward and folded her hands on her desk. “Mark, I am so pleased with the progress made today with Joey,” she said, smiling.

  “You are?” he said. “Pardon my confusion, but I thought you two were coming in here to discuss Joey’s parents. But the topic was my crummy eggs? Why are we thrilled?”

  “Because Joey and I are establishing a rapport. He was comfortable enough with me to tell me that he wished he didn’t have to eat those scrambled eggs.”

  Mark got to his feet. “Why didn’t he just tell me?”

  “Mark, you have to understand where Joey is coming from. He is a bright little boy who realizes that you are the only person available to provide a home for him. He’s lost his parents. He’s now terrified that if he upsets you, you won’t want him to live with you.”

  “That’s nuts,” Mark said, nearly shouting.

  “Shh,” Cedar said, rising to round the desk. “I don’t want Joey to hear any of this. He used me as a buffer to deliver the message about the eggs and to inform you what he does like to eat. It’s a marvelous start. Our Friday session will also give me a chance to see his bedroom, the possessions that are important to him, and to watch the interaction between you and Joey.

  “Joey’s problems are not going to be solved overnight. It will be a slow process. He did not want to discuss his parents with me, and I didn’t push him on the subject. I have to establish a level of trust with Joey first. And…well, I need you to trust me, too.”

  Mark looked at Cedar for a long moment.

  “Doesn’t that work both ways?” he said finally. “Don’t you need to trust me?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “You’re going to be coming to my home, plus you said we’d be going on outings together with Joey at times. We’ll also have private meetings such as this one right now to discuss progress. I’m referring to you trusting me as a man, not just as Joey’s guardian. Do you trust me as a man?”

  “I…” Cedar stopped speaking.

  Why was Mark doing this? she thought frantically. She didn’t intend to view him as a man. No, he was Joey’s guardian, his uncle, the person who was now that little boy’s father. Their relationship had nothing to do with Cedar, the woman, trusting Mark, the man.

  Mark Chandler unsettled her, made her acutely aware of her own femininity and his incredible masculinity. She had no idea if she trusted him. She was having enough trouble trusting herself not to overreact to his blatant sensuality whenever she was near him, for heaven’s sake.

  “Your question is immaterial, Mark,” she said, tearing her gaze from his.

  “I don’t believe it is,” he said. “How is Joey going to relax around me if he senses tension between you and me? How will he come to trust me if he feels that you don’t? Think about it.”

  “I…”

  “You have my address on that form I filled out. Joey and I will be waiting for your arrival Friday night. We’ll all cook dinner together, just like a family. Right? Right.” Mark nodded. “See ya.”

  Mark strode from the room. Cedar sank into one of the chairs in front of her desk when she realized her trembling legs were not going to support her for one second longer.

  This was not going well, she thought, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks. Mark had made a legitimate point. Joey would be aware of any tension between her and Mark and might very well hold back because of it.

  She had to somehow gain control of her raging emotions before Friday night. She was a professional. She’d taken part in in-home therapy a multitude of times and found it to be very effective and informative. She would concentrate on Joey and the chicken, and view Mark as the client that he was. Not a man…a client.

  She could do that.

  Couldn’t she?

  Chapter Three

  On Friday evening before Cedar arrived, Mark stood in the middle of his living room and nodded in approval. He had made a fire in the hearth that was now crackling with leaping flames. The cleaning lady, who came three times a week, had done her usual expert job.

  Mark had built the large house in Fountain Valley, an affluent area at the north edge of Phoenix. The split floor plan featured a master bedroom on one side of the house and three more bedrooms on the opposite side. There were also a sunken living room with a flagstone fireplace, a formal dining room, a big kitchen with an eating area, and a library with built-in shelves.

  The backyard boasted a swimming pool, plus a separate Jacuzzi beyond a good-size covered patio.

  Mark had hired a decorator who had chosen large, comfortable furniture in tones of gray and light-to-dark burgundy. The overall effect was one of simple elegance.

  He had known when he designed and built the house that it was much too big for a single man, but he’d had hopes of having a wife and children someday and wanted to be prepared. He’d also intended to establish a sizable investment portfolio that would provide not only for his retirement, but for college educations for his children. He wanted available funds for any emergencies that might arise.

  One had.

  Until Joey’s arrival, the three spare bedrooms had been empty. Together, they had shopped for Joey’s furniture, which had proven to be a study in frustration, as Joey offered no opinions and answered most questions with his ever-familiar shrug.

  Wanting Joey to have his own possessions with him, Mark had his nephew’s clothes, toys, and books shipped from New York. He had even purchased a Game Boy as a gift for Joey, but had yet to see the little boy play with it.

  Cedar would see that Joey had a nice home.

  Joey’s new bedroom was large and had its own bathroom. It contained a double bed, dresser, desk, and bookshelves to hold his belongings. Everything that a little boy could possibly want was available under this roof.

  Yeah, right, Mark thought, shaking his head. It all sounded great except for the fact that Joey was a very unhappy kid. The easy way out would be to blame Joey’s emotional state entirely on the loss of his parents. That might very well be true, but Cedar would need to make that determination.

  “No, part of it is me,” Mark said, frowning.

  He was doing a lousy job of being a father, no doubt about it. He should be able to get Joey to smile, for Pete’s sake, to talk to him, to spend just one evening with his Uncle Mark.

  Hell, what did he know about being a dad? Not a damn thing. He sure hadn’t had any kind of role model. Not even close. Should he tell Cedar that? Explain his own childhood to her so she could understand why he was doing such a crummy job of—no. He wasn’t about to pour out his heart and soul to a woman he hardly knew. No way.

  The doorbell rang, jerking Mark from his rambling thoughts. As he started across the room, Joey came running down the hall and entered the living room.

  “Cedar’s here,” Joey said, zooming to the door. He flung it open just as Mark reached him. />
  “Hi, Cedar,” Joey said. “Did you bring the chicken and stuff?”

  “I certainly did,” Cedar said, smiling. “Are you ready to be a chef?”

  “Yeah,” Joey said. “Cool.”

  “Joey,” Mark said, “why don’t you invite Cedar in?”

  “Huh?” Joey said. “Oh. You wanna come in now?”

  Cedar laughed. “Yes, thank you.” She stepped into the living room and swept her gaze over the large expanse. “What a lovely home,” she said. “Oh, and a fire in the hearth. Perfect.” She looked at Joey again. “Would you take one of these grocery sacks, please?”

  “Sure,” Joey said, slamming the door closed, then accepting one of the bags.

  Cedar hadn’t acknowledged his presence or even glanced in his direction, Mark thought. So, okay, she was here in her role as Joey’s psychologist, but still—

  Man, listen to him. He was reacting like a bratty little kid who was jealous because the new baby was getting all the attention. But, cripe, the woman could at least say hello.

  “Hello, Cedar,” he said.

  Cedar slowly, very slowly, shifted her gaze to meet Mark’s.

  “Hello, Mark,” she said.

  “Let me take that other sack,” he said, reaching toward it.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Cedar said.

  “I insist,” he said, then grasped the bag, the back of his right hand brushing her breast lightly. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to…sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” Cedar said. “On to the kitchen, gentlemen.”

  Providing that her legs would carry her that far, she thought frantically, which was doubtful because her bones were dissolving from the incredible heat that was consuming her. That one-second flicker of Mark’s hand on her breast was wreaking total havoc on her body.

  There was a flush on her cheeks, too, she just knew there was, darn it. This evening was not starting out well at all.

  “Are you coming?” Joey said from across the room.

  “What?” Cedar said. “Oh, yes, of course. Lead the way, sir.”

  In the kitchen, Cedar offered the appropriate compliments on the state-of-the-art appliances and the generous size of the room, finally deciding that she was babbling like an idiot.