Huntington Family Series

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Actually, yes.”

  “And you don’t have to worry about her being a crazy weirdo, because she’s not.”

  Ryan could see that just looking at her. She was most definitely not crazy, but her life was obviously not simple, either. One could see that as well. She was beautiful, polite, and caring, but also removed, wary, and vulnerable. That might be fine for Tiger, but Ryan wasn’t sure the combination was a good thing for his heart.

  “Okay, we’ll talk later. Maybe on Monday?”

  Maxine grunted with disgust. “Sorry, Tiger, that’s all you’re gonna get, but don’t stop bugging him.”

  “Maxine,” Kerrianne protested.

  “Fine. Okay, I’ll be quiet.” Maxine laid a hand on Tiger’s shoulder. “At least about that. But tell me, Tiger, where’d you get such an odd name? I mean, what kind of a name is Tiger anyway? Sounds like you were born in the jungle.”

  The boy laughed. “Oh, that’s my sister’s fault. She liked golf.”

  Maxine cast Ryan a confused look.

  “Ria’s into sports,” he explained. “She was going through a golf phase. When we named him Tyson, she was sure we’d meant to name him after Tiger Woods but made a mistake. So she called him Tiger, and that was that.”

  “I like the name Tiger,” Tiger said proudly. “It’s tough, like a Jedi knight. Or maybe a wizard, like Harry Potter.” He growled and lifted his hands up as though clawing something.

  “My, my,” Maxine said, adding a few tsks for good measure. “Sounds like you’d better put him in Kerrianne’s preschool. Wherever you have him now, he’s watching way too much TV.”

  Ryan chuckled without amusement. “I’ll do that,” he said, wishing she’d mind her own business. He glanced at Kerrianne. “Got any openings?”

  Kerrianne blinked in surprise, and he found he was glad he’d followed the urge. For a moment the closed look was gone.

  “Uh, sorry. I don’t have any openings. But you never know. Maybe later.”

  Disappointment that was completely out of proportion to the question made a bitter taste in his mouth. “Maybe.” He glanced at his truck. “Guess I’d better go get the rest.”

  “We’ll help,” Maxine offered.

  “There’s only one or two left. They’re not big—I can get them in one trip. But thanks. And thanks for coming to the play.”

  “Thank you for the tickets. Are you doing another play soon?”

  “Not until January.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not telling.” The truth was, they hadn’t really decided. The group had voted to take December off this year, since there was so much competition with other productions and activities during the Christmas season.

  “Humph.” Maxine pursed her lips. “Tiger,” she said, “it seems we’ll both have to keep bugging your dad.”

  Tiger lifted his hands in the exaggerated shrug that Ryan had spent hours teaching him for a play he’d been in several months earlier. All the adults laughed.

  “Good night.” Maxine started for her car.

  Kerrianne nodded at him, and Ryan felt a warm tingling shoot through him. At that moment more than anything he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to discover what she was feeling underneath that stiff veneer. He wanted to see if his gut feeling was right about her somehow being important in his life. Or was it just to Tiger’s life as a future preschool teacher? The thought made Ryan depressed. He wasn’t ready to believe that quite yet. Miraculously, this smart, attractive, funny woman had appeared in his path, and he wasn’t the type to turn down what might possibly be destiny.

  No, he thought, we’re not through, yet. You wait and see.

  “Good-bye,” he called after her. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Chapter Four

  “Maxine,” Kerrianne said as her friend drove from the parking lot, “was this a set-up? Because if it was, you did a lousy job.”

  “What? A set-up?” Maxine glanced over momentarily. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ryan What’s-his-face.” Kerrianne tried to remember what name had been listed on the program.

  “Ryan Oakman. Actually, S. Ryan Oakman, but I never asked him what the S meant. So what about him? And don’t scowl so. It’ll give you wrinkles.”

  “He’s a widower. Are you trying to say you didn’t know anything about it?”

  Maxine’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my. For crying out loud. No wonder those children kept coming to him for stuff. I never imagined. The poor guy! Alone all this time. And I had the nerve to hit him up for tickets.”

  Kerrianne felt her defensiveness fade. “You really didn’t know? This wasn’t an effort to get us together?”

  Maxine made a left turn at the light. “Honey, if I’d known he was single, I would have snatched him up myself.”

  Kerrianne let out a burst of laughter.

  “What?” Maxine asked, in an offended tone. “I mean it. So what if he’s a little young?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to do any man’s laundry again. Or cook him dinner.”

  “I wouldn’t have to. He’d do it. That’s the beauty of youth; they can be trained.”

  “Right.” Kerrianne rolled her eyes. “He’s still a man.”

  “Well, at least at his age, he’s bound to be romantic. Not like poor old Harold, who would have to take vitamins just to get up enough energy to kiss my cheek.”

  Kerrianne had a brief vision of Ryan’s lips coming down on her own. Guilt flooded her and she pushed the unsettling vision away. She loved Adam. She most certainly would not think about kissing Ryan—or any other man. Good thing she’d told Ryan she didn’t have any openings in her preschool, though that wasn’t strictly true. If she’d really wanted, she could have squeezed in one more student, but interacting with Ryan on a regular basis wasn’t something she was prepared to do in light of her attraction to him.

  Maxine turned right at the next bend in the road. “Of course, Ryan does have children, and I’m quite beyond that. So I guess you can have him if you want.”

  “I don’t want him!”

  “Okay, okay. I thought you did.” Her glance was teasing. “Still, you have to admit that it was fun to go out tonight. In fact, I think it’s time you got out a little more. I know you’re still missing Adam, but he wouldn’t begrudge you a little fun.”

  “I don’t want another man.”

  “I’m not talking about another man. I mean to get out and meet other singles, men and women alike. I tell you, there’s a lot of comfort being with people who know what you’re going through.”

  Acid rose in Kerrianne’s throat. Was Maxine like all the others who seemed to think everything in her life could be cured with a little understanding? A dash of understanding, a priesthood blessing, and a little fresh air. Voilà, she’d be cured of heartache permanently.

  Not in a million years. What they didn’t understand is that nothing could bring back Adam. She still had to endure a lifetime without him. She had to raise her children alone. Not even Maxine could understand that kind of heartache.

  She was about to protest, to voice at least some of these thoughts, but then she remembered her feelings when Ryan told her about his wife. She had felt something at the realization that he understood her feelings, at knowing he lived the same existence she did. Maybe she had everything wrong. Maybe each thing—understanding of others, the blessings, and even fresh air—did lessen her pain until she could actually be happy again. Not just fleetingly, but every day.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

  Maxine obviously sniffed victory. “Good. There’s an activity next Friday night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “An activity? What kind?”

  “A gathering. Don’t worry about it. You’ll enjoy it. I’ll be right with you, and if you don’t like it, we’ll leave.”

  “What would I wear?”

  “Something like you have on tonight.” Maxine brought the car t
o a stop in Kerrianne’s driveway and looked her over with a critical eye. “I was going to suggest getting some new pants, but do you think you could put on a little weight instead? Five pounds would do you a world of good. You’re a woman, you know, not a scrawny teenager.”

  Kerrianne sighed. “I’ll think about it.” She climbed from Maxine’s car, feeling drained of all energy. “Thanks, Maxine. It was a really good play.”

  “You’re welcome. Call me if you need me.” Maxine always said that as they parted. So far Kerrianne never had taken her up on the offer.

  She went to the front door, fumbling with her key. It wasn’t late, but the children were likely in bed; she prayed that they were. She didn’t want to check teeth or find pajamas tonight. The entryway and the living room were darkened, and Kerrianne followed the light emanating from the family room.

  She was surprised to see all the children spread out on the floor. More children than she had left a few hours earlier. They all seemed to be asleep, covered in her extra blankets, except for Lexi, whose eyes were glued to the television. The overhead light had been dimmed with the wall switch to about halfway.

  “Lexi, what—” She broke off as a figure on the couch lifted slightly and turned toward her. Kerrianne’s heart beat overtime until she realized it was only her sister. “Manda? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

  “No,” Amanda said hurriedly, her green eyes glinting in the half light. “Or nothing too serious, anyway. Benjamin wasn’t feeling well and wanted you, but the kids couldn’t remember your cell number, so Misty called me. I came over instead of giving them your number so you wouldn’t have to miss your play.”

  “We think Caleb took the number from by the phone.” Lexi sat up from her mound of blankets. “He was making a paper plane with it earlier, and I took it from him like three times. Then we couldn’t find it—not even he could remember where he put it.”

  “Where’s Benjamin?” Kerrianne mentally berated herself for not realizing he was sick. No wonder he’d come to her bed last night. And come to think of it, he had been rather listless all day.

  “He’s here, right by me.” Amanda gestured.

  Kerrianne walked quickly around the couch and saw Benjamin sleeping with his head on a pillow wedged next to the armrest. Even in the dim light his cheeks were rosy with fever.

  Amanda stood up to let Kerrianne sit beside Benjamin. “He is hot,” Kerrianne said, as she gathered Benjamin’s thin body into her arms.

  “Blake and your neighbor gave him a blessing, and then Blake went to the store to get some children’s pain reliever. I’m out, and I couldn’t find yours.”

  “It’s in my vitamin cupboard, clear at the back. You should have called me.” Though she was happy her sister had stepped in to take care of things, she felt guilty to be enjoying herself while others did her job.

  Amanda grinned. “Not a chance. You don’t get out enough as it is.”

  There it was again—the insinuation that if she got out enough, her life would miraculously change. Kerrianne let the words run over her without stopping them; she’d already lost that argument once tonight. At this point, staying silent was the best way to protect her emotions. Especially with Amanda. Her sister had more than once accused Kerrianne of relishing the pain. “You like missing Adam, don’t you?” she’d said only last month.

  “Well, I’m certainly not celebrating the fact that he’s gone,” Kerrianne had retorted.

  “Yeah, but you don’t have to stop living. You can’t believe he’d want that.”

  “I am living!”

  “No. You, my dear sister, are only existing.”

  Kerrianne knew Amanda was right, but she didn’t know what to do about it now any more than she did then. Regardless, she didn’t want to repeat that particular conversation in a hurry.

  “So how was it, anyway?” Amanda asked, oblivious to her thoughts.

  “Good. Fine.” Kerrianne was too distracted by both her thoughts and her son’s fever to dwell on the play. “What about your kids?” She lifted her chin to indicate Amanda’s soon-to-be-adopted foster children, Kevin and Mara, who were snoring together under a blanket by the TV, and Amanda’s two-year-old son, Blakey, who had his own blanket next to Caleb in the middle of the room. “I’d feel bad if they got sick.”

  Amanda shrugged. “They were together all day yesterday. If it’s contagious, they’ve already been exposed. But don’t worry. I kept them away from Benjamin as much as possible.” Amanda sat down on the other end of the couch as she spoke. At five months along, she was in the cute stage of pregnancy when the stomach is big enough to tell the world you really are pregnant and not simply gaining weight, and yet not so large as to be overly uncomfortable. Or at least most people wouldn’t normally be so uncomfortable at this stage. The swelling in Amanda’s legs had her midwife worried about gestational diabetes.

  Kerrianne held tightly to Benjamin. If Adam hadn’t died, she would have had another baby two years after Caleb. They might even have a fifth one by now, a newborn, if she’d kept up the two-year spacing. But there were no more babies for her and Adam. She hoped her face didn’t show any of her thoughts, not wanting her sister to know how desperately she envied her.

  “I’ll go get the pain reliever.” Amanda came to her feet again, and Kerrianne let her go, though she didn’t want to wake Benjamin to give it to him. As long as his fever wasn’t too high and he wasn’t uncomfortable, she knew by experience that it was better to let him sleep for as long as possible to aid in his healing.

  As Amanda returned with the small, childproof bottle, her husband, Blake, arrived from the store. “We’ll just keep this for ourselves,” Amanda said, taking the small bag from him with a smile. “Kerrianne’s already got two bottles, and if this spreads, we’ll need it.”

  Kerrianne groaned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Amanda smiled. “It’s not your fault. Kids get sick.”

  Blake knelt on the carpet and scooped up eight-year-old Kevin, reminding Kerrianne briefly of Ryan, though the two men looked little alike. Blake’s brown hair was short, his face clean-shaven, and his eyes brown. Though he was a handsome man, her stomach didn’t feel the slightest twinge of warmth at his gaze. Thank heaven! she thought, still more unsettled than she liked to admit by her unexpected encounter with Ryan.

  “Don’t you want to give him the medicine?” Amanda asked.

  “Not yet. He’ll probably wake up soon.”

  “Look, why don’t we take Lexi home with us? That way Blake can run her back to Mitch’s tomorrow and save you the drive to Sandy.”

  Kerrianne looked at Lexi. “Would you mind?”

  “Whatever’s best for you,” Lexi said. “I’m just sorry he got sick.”

  “Thanks, Lexi. Here, let me pay you first.”

  “No, really, it’s okay. My dad left me money, when he . . . you know, in his will.” Like Kerrianne, she seemed to hate saying the D word.

  “Yeah, but that’s for your future—college and all. This is for candy and video games, or whatever it is you girls like to buy these days.” Kerrianne fished bills from her purse and pressed them into Lexi’s hand.

  Lexi grinned. “Well, if you put it that way.”

  Blake had returned from settling Kevin in their van and now picked up four-year-old Mara. Amanda awkwardly lifted little Blakey, curling him against the bulk of her stomach. “If you need us, just call. We’re only five minutes away.”

  “I will.”

  Amanda’s green stare fixed her in the eye. “You mean it?”

  “Yes.” Kerrianne laid the still-sleeping Benjamin on the couch and walked them to the door, locking it after them.

  With her sister’s family and Lexi gone, the house had fallen into its customary bleak silence. A silence that was almost loud. Kerrianne lifted Misty and took her upstairs to bed, trying not to think of Adam helping to carry the children as Blake had done for Amanda. Misty opened her eyes briefly but didn’t speak or see
m to understand that she was being carried. Next, Kerrianne picked up Caleb, who didn’t stir in the slightest as she put him in bed and pulled up the covers. Benjamin she placed in her own bed, knowing he would be more comfortable there and that she might be able to doze at least a bit as she watched over him.

  “Mom,” he moaned.

  She smoothed his forehead. “I’m here.”

  “I wanted you. Caleb lost the number.”

  “I know. But it’s okay. I’m back now.”

  “I’m hot. I hurt all over.” His fingers tightened weakly on her arm.

  “You’ll be okay. I promise. Here, I have something for you to take. Chew it up quickly, and drink this water.”

  Benjamin didn’t complain as the other children always did when taking pain reliever. He didn’t try to spit out the tablets or make horrible faces. He just chewed quickly and drank a sip of the water.

  “Try a little more water,” Kerrianne urged. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

  He gave it a try but choked.

  “Good, that’s enough. I have it right here if you need more.”

  “I love you, Mommy.”

  Tears threatened. “I love you, too, Benjamin.”

  Between worrying about Benjamin and taking care of him each time he awoke, Kerrianne spent a sleepless night. Half the time she felt pity for Benjamin’s pain, and the other half she spent feeling sorry for herself for having to endure the vigil alone.

  Overshadowing all was the fear of losing Benjamin the way she’d lost Adam.

  Suddenly she was angry at Adam for not being there. Yes, she knew it wasn’t his fault, but it was better to be angry at him than feel the bitter loss all over again as though he’d died only yesterday. Four years. Yesterday. It made little difference to the rest of her life.

  “I’m so mad at you,” she whispered. “We were just beginning. We had our whole lives ahead of us. If you were here, you could have been the one to give him a blessing.” She could almost imagine his saying in return, “Ah, but then you’d miss all these growing experiences.”

  She sobbed aloud. “I don’t want to grow without you!”

  There was no reply this time, as though not even her imagination had anything left to give.