“We don’t like having women around?”
“No, it’s not that at all. But sometimes we have more fun as guys when they’re not here.”
Dylan didn’t quite get that, but didn’t care. He was having a great time. And his uncle seemed to be nicer lately. Or maybe it was just that things didn’t seem quite as awful to Dylan as they had for a long time. The last few days, everybody was getting along better in the house, but he’d noticed that Bobbie hadn’t come over today before going shopping. She and Uncle Nate usually saw each other every day. He’d even seen them hugging. It would be cool if she moved in, but he’d heard his uncle say she was going to Italy after Christmas. That was across the ocean and you had to fly there, or take a cruise.
Hunter and Uncle Nate had talked about women while making coffee in the kitchen. Hunter was saying he didn’t understand them, and Uncle Nate said he’d like to help him, but didn’t understand them, either. Dennis had said that you had to love them without understanding them or you’d go crazy.
Hunter had asked him how you could ever love something you didn’t understand. Dennis had smiled and told him that if he loved a woman, he’d find out.
Hunter leaned toward Dylan now and asked, “Would you go get us another ice cream bar?”
“Uncle Nate usually only lets us have one at a time,” he answered, then remembered that this was Life without Women Day and that rule might not apply.
“Me, too!” Sheamus pleaded, then turned to Dennis. “You want another one?”
Bobbie’s father nodded. “Yes, please.”
Dylan went into the kitchen and relayed the unanimous request to his uncle, who was pouring coffee into this tall thing that kept it warm.
“Sure.” He pointed to the freezer at the bottom of the fridge. “Help yourself.”
Dylan hadn’t thought about it before, but since he’d drawn the picture and had to think about what had happened to his parents, it didn’t exactly hurt less, but he felt a little better about the fact that he and Sheamus and Uncle Nate were still here. And that Uncle Nate was taking care of them.
“Do you know Justin Parker?” he asked as he dug the ice cream bars out of the freezer.
His uncle screwed the top on the coffee thing. “Think so. The blond kid that helped you with the Mentos geyser.”
“Yeah. Did you know his mom died?”
Uncle Nate turned to look at him. “No. I know Mr. and Mrs. Berg have a foster home and he lives with them.”
“Yeah. When his mom died, his dad left. Justin doesn’t know where he is.” He was having trouble holding four bars and his uncle reached above his head to get a bowl for him to drop them in.
“That’s terrible about Justin.”
“Yeah. And people don’t like to adopt older kids.”
“Who told you that?”
“Justin. Some other foster kid told him. So, Mr. and Mrs. Berg are nice and everything, but he’s really lonesome.” Dylan drew a deep breath and looked into his uncle’s eyes. He was beginning to realize that saying thank-you about big things was hard. He sucked it up. “I’m really glad Sheamus and I didn’t have to go live with a foster family,” he said quickly. “I’m glad Dad had a brother.”
Uncle Nate was quiet for a minute, then he said, his voice a little funny, “Yeah, me, too. It helps me a lot to have you and Sheamus.”
Dylan didn’t know what to say after that, so he ran off with the ice cream bars. But he felt good. And it had been such a long time since he’d been anything near happy.
* * *
NATE WENT TO Rolling Thunder Barbecue for ribs, beans, potato salad and rolls. When he returned home, a bright yellow envelope stuck out of his mailbox. “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID” was written in capital letters on the front. He ripped it open and unfolded a plain white note card. “And that was the sweetest, most generous thing anyone’s ever done for us,” it read. “Thank you, Nate! Our daughter sent us a check. Here you are. We’ll tell everyone we know what a good man you are.”
Nate pocketed the note and smiled to himself. He was beginning to understand that there were all kinds of things in life that simply didn’t show up on a profit and loss statement.
He went inside to serve dinner and turn on The Dirty Dozen. Sheamus was fast asleep, but Dylan was wide-awake and soon totally absorbed in the movie.
While completely upside down about his relationship with Bobbie, Nate was happy and hopeful over his brief conversation with Dylan about his friend in foster care. Nate knew it didn’t mean all their problems were resolved, but there was an understanding at the base of their relationship that could be built on as Dylan grew older and communication probably got harder.
They were all in a stupor of overindulgence when the women returned around 8:00 p.m. Nate heard them in the kitchen and was a little surprised to hear laughter, since they’d been up since 5:00 a.m. Maybe being without men was as good for them as being without women had been for him and Hunter and Dennis.
Still, each man’s head turned toward the kitchen and the bubbling sound of female conversation. There was crunching plastic, rustling paper and—he couldn’t quite believe his ears—giggles.
He got up to investigate. They were all standing around the table, an enormous pile of bags, paper and a lot of things they’d bought strewn across it.
Bobbie had a knitted hat made to resemble a raccoon sitting atop her head. It was too small for her, but he gathered from her remarks that it was one of two she’d bought, for Addie and Zoey.
Sandy ran a hand over a dark blue sweater. “My!” Stella said. “Cashmere. Is that for Hunter?”
Stella had pulled on a plush yellow bathrobe for her daughter and she looked a little like a tall Easter “Peep” when she leaned over to touch the sweater.
“I can’t believe,” Nate said, walking bravely into the middle of their estrogen-infested area, “that you’ve been shopping for fifteen hours.”
All three women turned to him with smiles. Despite their joviality, they did look tired.
“We shopped for about twelve hours,” Bobbie corrected, covering a yawn. She looked soft and sleepy. He felt completely disarmed. “We spent the other three eating and drinking coffee.”
The room was suddenly filled with Hunter and Dennis, the boys and Arnold.
Bobbie pulled a squeaky toy shaped like a bone out of a bag and tossed it at the dog, which leaped into the air bit down on it, making any conversation impossible for the next minute. A one-note squeak repeated over and over.
Nate smiled at her flatly. “Thanks a lot, Bobbie.”
“Sure.” She studied him as though he puzzled her, then he realized she was probably uncertain what to do about her feelings for him. Another point for his side.
She turned with a smile to everyone else. “Hi, Dad. Hi, guys. Hey, Hunter.” She delved into another bag and surfaced with two miniature Christmas trees. She worked a switch on the bottom and they lit up, each decorated with tiny ornaments. She held them out to the boys. “For your rooms.”
“Cool.” Dylan took his from her. “Thank you, Bobbie.”
“You’re welcome. I bought a couple of other little things to put you in the holiday spirit, but I’m not sure which bag they’re in. I’ll bring them by tomorrow.”
Sheamus held his tree as though it were a puppy. “My own tree!” he said. He smiled up at Nate. “I wish Bobbie lived here!”
A sudden silence fell and vague discomfort filled the room.
Bobbie pulled the raccoon hat off her head and ruffled Sheamus’s hair. “Well, I’m close enough that you can run over anytime,” she said bracingly.
“Yeah.” Sheamus sounded halfhearted, but with another look at his tree, he perked up again and took off to put it in his room. Dylan followed, and Arnold raced after them, squeaking his toy as he pranced in their wake.
“Need a ride home?” Hunter asked Sandy.
She seemed surprised by the invitation. “Yes, please,” she replied, watching him a little warily as he picked up her things
“Okay, well...” Arms loaded with Sandy’s purchases, Hunter started for the door. “Thanks, Nate. Most fun I’ve had in ages. Take care, Dennis. Bye, guys!” he shouted toward the stairs.
Sandy ran ahead of him to open the door. Nate flipped on the outside lights. He couldn’t hear their conversation as they packed the back of Hunter’s car, but it sounded increasingly agitated. By the time they were both in the front seat, voices were raised and they were too busy arguing to wave as Hunter backed out of the driveway. Nate watched them go, wondering what had happened.
In the kitchen, Dennis and Stella seemed to be making a date for breakfast. Good, he thought.
Bobbie was moving her purchases from bag to bag, trying, he guessed, to make a more manageable burden.
“Want me to help you carry that stuff home?” he asked.
She gave him that wary look again. “I’ve got it,” she said. “Thanks, though.”
“Don’t forget to get your car washed this weekend at the mini-mart,” he told her as Dennis took some bags from her, preparing to leave. “All proceeds for the food bank. And the Urban and the coffee house are donating half their proceeds. Why don’t we all meet for dinner Sunday night, my treat?”
“Deal,” Dennis said. “But I’ll split the bill with you. And isn’t there a bake sale somewhere?”
“St. Mary’s,” Nate replied. “Next weekend. I think the schedule was in Wednesday’s paper.”
Dennis made a face and tipped his head toward his daughter. “That’s too bad. This one used it for strategizing her shopping. Anything of a news nature is illegible or cut out.”
Nate laughed. He turned to catch Bobbie’s glance, but she was already out the door. “We won’t miss anything, trust me. See you Sunday.”
“And I’ll see you in the morning!” Stella shouted to Dennis over Nate’s shoulder.
“Watch out for the chrysanthemums!” Nate warned as they reached the edge of his property. He saw them move more slowly, step carefully over the mums, then finally reach the path lit by Bobbie’s back porch light. He closed the door and turned to find Stella right behind him. She was smiling brightly.
“I feel thirty years old tonight,” she said. “Well, my feet feel sixty-seven, but the woman inside feels thirty. When I was thirty, I had children and a job, and shopping had to be done quickly. Today, we just had fun. It was wonderful.”
“I’m glad you had fun. And I’m glad you’re enjoying Dennis’s company.” Nate teased her with a frown. “But if he talks you into moving to California, the boys and I will be very upset.”
“That won’t happen.” She gathered up shopping bags, letting him carry half as he walked her to the door. “What are you going to do about Bobbie?”
“I’m working on that.”
“Have you told her that you love her?”
He sighed. “No, she wouldn’t want to hear it. At least, that’s been the case in the past. Things may be shifting in my favor, but I’m not buying any advertising yet.”
Stella opened the front door and took the bags from him. One of them tipped sideways and spilled more than a dozen pairs of socks onto the porch.
Nate looked from them to her. “Is there a centipede on your list?” he asked.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BOBBIE DELIVERED HER commission on Monday to praise and flattering enthusiasm from the law firm’s partners. Sandy winked at her as one of the men took down four flower prints hanging across the back of the room and personally replaced them with her quotes from Oliver Wendell Holmes scripted in calligraphy on her handmade paper. Bobbie was proud of the pieces and thought how much in her life had changed since she’d come to Astoria to complete them.
And now she could focus full-time on the painting for the fund-raiser.
The following Friday, she was ready to abandon her workroom for a day with her energetic art class. She had the children hard at work on stars with glitter, bells, candy canes, snowflakes and other symbols of Christmas. Fernanda patrolled the room to prevent anyone from gluing hair or fingers. There was glitter everywhere, but it gave her little students a sort of fairy-tale look Bobbie enjoyed as she walked among them.
Crystal Moreno, a usually quiet and hardworking little girl with long dark hair and enormous eyes, chose to draw on her star rather than apply glitter. The subject appeared to be female, with long brown hair and wide red lips. Crystal had put glitter in her eyes.
“That’s a pretty face,” Bobbie exclaimed. “Is she someone you know?”
“That’s my mom,” she said, adding eyelashes.
“Well, she’s very pretty. She’ll like that star a lot.”
“It’s for my dad,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “He’s in jail and can’t come home for Christmas. He didn’t do anything bad,” she added, as though accustomed to having to explain herself. “We didn’t have food one time ’cause he didn’t have a job anymore, and he took money from a store.”
Horrified that this little child had to deal with such a thing, Bobbie got down on one knee beside her desk, wanting to offer comfort, but not sure what to say. Fortunately, Crystal was chatty.
“He wants my mom to get a divorce,” she said, looking lost. “But she got mad at him when he said that. They had a fight. I’m going to give this to him when we visit.”
“I’m sure he’ll love it. But what about one with your face, too. And...do you have brothers and sisters?”
“I have a little sister.”
“I’ll get you two more stars. If you don’t finish today, don’t worry. I’ll help you next week. Maybe we could even put them on a string to remind your dad how you’re all waiting for him to come home.”
The little girl brightened visibly. “Okay.”
Bobbie stood to find Fernanda right behind her. “I’ll get the stars,” the woman said.
Bobbie continued to circulate among the children, making a mental note to tell Nate about the family and see if one of the holiday gift baskets could be earmarked for them.
The session ended in an enthusiastic but chaotic cleanup and a spirited race for the door when it was time for lunch. Crystal came to wrap her arms around Bobbie’s waist, then ran off to follow her friends.
Fernanda helped Bobbie store the unfinished ornaments until the next week’s session. “Have you ever thought of getting licensed to hold art therapy classes?” she asked. “You seem to have a gift for helping children with their problems through artwork.”
Bobbie dismissed her praise with a shake of her head. “Thank you, but I operate more on gut instinct than knowledge. And, really, I don’t know how much it’ll help.” Just yesterday she’d have said, “Besides, I’m moving to Italy after the holidays,” but today, for the first time since she’d made the decision to go, she wasn’t sure she would.
“You should think about it, Bobbie. My husband is a psychologist. I know he could point you in the right direction for classes to become certified.”
“Thank you, Fernanda.” Bobbie gave her a quick hug, then brushed glitter off her shoulder. “I’m going to miss you when this is over. Only one more class.”
“I’ll miss you. This had been more fun than it usually is. And that’s all thanks to you.”
“That’s sweet of you, Fernanda. See you next week. I’m bringing cookies.”
“Great. I’ll arrange for milk and hot chocolate.”
On her way home, Bobbie pulled up at her favorite viewing spot overlooking the river. It was a beautiful day, with big puffy clouds floating in a row above the subtly purple hills on the Washington side. The water was like glass today, only a red-and-black freighter at a
nchor disturbing the surface.
It was difficult to admit how much she would hate leaving Astoria. She’d come to love the town and the people so much. Nate in particular. And her feelings for him were now so strong that she wanted to stay with him.
Her painting of him was a testament to her feelings. Though he was shown only in profile, he looked handsome, slightly brooding, a young man of the sea at his prime. He gazed over the river as though dreaming of a woman he’d left behind in some exotic locale. Bobbie wanted to think that in quiet moments, he dreamed of her. She was proud of the painting, though it was as much a reflection of how she felt as it was an image of him and the old riverfront.
He was everything a woman could ever want—if she didn’t want to go to Florence, too.
Bobbie sat staring at the mountains and the clouds, and wondered why she’d felt so driven to make this trip. Was Sandy right—that the idea gave her hope, and as long as she did what she’d promised herself, she believed she wouldn’t die?
Bobbie considered that. Last year she’d have told anyone who asked that if she wasn’t able to devote herself completely to her art, her life would be shortened. That was before she’d fallen in love with Nate, Dylan and Sheamus. Research had proved that love could lengthen a life, but, ideally, she’d want to stay with them for what she could give them, not for what they could give her. The question was, could she still be a loving, giving woman if she let her dream go and stayed with them?
The answer, she realized with sudden insight, was that she could if she was determined to. Love wasn’t a blast of emotion showered on one by fate. It was a decision made and recommitted to every day.
She felt a stirring of character muscle—a fragile one, she decided, laughing at the word. She could do this.
If Nate still wanted her to.
* * *
SANDY MADE A TURN in front of the mirror at Clarissa’s in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, emerald-green gown.
Always Florence Page 18
