by Arlene James
“Where’s Darla?” she queried of Parker.
He loosened his hold on Kendra’s arm slightly, as if forcing himself to relax. “Just where she ought to be,” he said. “Home.”
Dr. Sandra Pendleton smiled thinly. “That’s exactly what I’d expect of you, Parker. You don’t even realize what benefit attending her parents’ funeral could be to the child.”
“I don’t see any benefit in it for an eighteen-week-old infant,” he confirmed.
“Of course you don’t, Parker,” she retorted, “but a properly trained adult could see to it that the experience is encoded in the brain for recapture later.”
Parker literally smirked. “Oh, sure,” he said drolly. “No doubt that theory is embraced by everyone but extraterrestrials and us troglodytes.”
Dr. Pendleton was not amused. “A child whose possibilities are limited,” she quoted sagely, “is a child with limited possibilities.”
“And a child with scraped knees is a child in pain,” Parker replied sadly.
Sandra Pendleton drew herself up tightly. “Pain is one of nature’s most adept teachers,” she snapped. “Self-caused pain teaches caution. Self-conquered pain teaches perseverance, stamina and self-reliance.”
“And a lack of care teaches a kid that she’s worthless and deserving of pain,” Parker contended. “I know damned well you had a mother who kissed your sores and made them better.”
“My mother was as well-meaning and well-informed as any other of her generation,” Sandra declared angrily, “which is to say, not very well at all! Behavioral science has taught us that—”
“Behavioral science has taught some of us one thing and some of us another,” Parker interrupted. “It’s a matter of interpretation and perspective, and I don’t mind telling you that yours are downright screwy! What’s more, lady, I intend to make certain that you’ll never get a chance to test them on my niece.”
“My niece, as well,” she reminded him coldly.
“Granted,” he said with deadly calm, “but Nathan and Candace named me her guardian, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s that.”
“We’ll see,” Sandra told him, and with a nod of her head she signaled her husband that he was now allowed to pick up the sniffling child standing quietly between them.
Parker dropped his arm from about Kendra’s shoulders and balled his hands into fists. He gritted his teeth, then by breathing deeply managed to stop. “She won’t have her, Edward,” he said. “Sandra Pendleton will not practice her lunacy on my Darla! Do you hear me?”
Edward bowed his head and glanced up at Kendra doubtfully from beneath furrowed brows. “I hear you, old buddy,” he said softly. “I hear you.” And then he looked away guiltily.
A fear of immense proportion seized Kendra in that moment. She saw suddenly just how unlikely Parker was to win custody of “his” Darla and just how distasteful Sandra Pendleton’s parenting techniques were to one reared by loving, doting parents. In a flash, she remembered the pain of scraped knees and the pleasurable comfort of a mother who had folded her close and promised relief. She remembered praise for treatment endured patiently and the pride that came afterward. She remembered, too, shamelessly milking every last drop of sympathy from her parents before the scabs formed and the suffering became more liability than boon. They were memories of such sweetness that they woke in her a nostalgia so sentimental as to bring tears to the eyes—and grow apace the fear that Darla Sugarman might never know such nostalgic sweetness if robbed of her uncle’s inept but loving care. Kendra could safeguard that child’s future by marrying her uncle. The thought lodged in her mind like an annoying jingle that, once heard, could not be forgotten.
Parker helped quiet it for a moment when he seized her hand and squeezed it. “No point in standing out here,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go in.”
She nodded and began climbing steps again. With each one that fell away beneath her, she heard that inner voice telling her what she already knew. She could fix everything by marrying him. Six months was all it would take, a half year out of her life. He might not be the best of fathers, but it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. On the other hand, Sandra Pendleton might not be the worst of mothers. Again, not for lack of trying. But that was unfair. Sandra sincerely thought she was correct. She sincerely believed her ideas were superior to the collective wisdom of countless generations of traditional mothers, and that conviction meant not a thing to a little girl in need of the traditional hug and a bit of commiseration.
They reached the top of the steps and walked sedately beneath the portico supported by towering columns, then through tall, elaborately carved doors and down the long vestibule. At the open door to the sanctuary, the funeral director awaited them. Organ music drifted through, the tune dignified, solemn and hauntingly beautiful.
“A moment please,” the director intoned, scanning the congregation to be certain that all were settled properly.
At the end of the aisle, Sandra Pendleton was leading her noisy brood to the foremost family pew, leaving the one directly behind for Parker and his friends. Once they were all ostensibly seated, the director nodded. Parker squeezed Kendra’s hand, and together they started that long walk toward the two identical coffins resting side by side in the midst of a bank of flowers before the altar rail. Kendra heard sniffling and muted sobs and whispers from either side of the aisle, and when she glanced at Parker’s profile, she noted a tiny muscle trembling in the hollow of his jaw. She slid her free hand over the inside of his elbow and received a squeeze of her captured hand in return.
At last they reached the end of the second pew and halted. Parker stepped back slightly to allow her to enter before him. Then Edward followed and squeezed past her to sit at her side, while Parker settled himself on the other, next to the aisle. At some unseen signal, the organ music faded away and the throbbing sound of a harp smoothly picked up where the last organ note had left off. Suddenly the voices of a mixed choir lifted in song, the beauty of the harmony so overwhelming that the words themselves seemed of little importance. Kendra closed her eyes and let the music soothe her—until a slight bump against the pew immediately ahead brought forth a screech of pain. The littlest Pendleton had just learned an unpleasant lesson about fidgeting while bearing scrapes upon one’s elbows. In an apparent attempt to quiet the crying child, Sandra Pendleton lifted her onto her lap, but the little one continued to weep. After a few moments, the oldest Pendleton child, a boy of about ten, turned a censorious expression on his injured sibling.
“She’s acting like a baby!” he grumbled.
His mother turned a complacent look upon him. “Yes, she is.”
“Well, she’d better cut it out or I’m going to pinch her!” he hissed.
Sandra turned her attention back to the choir. “Pinching is not acceptable,” she said calmly, but she shifted her sniffling daughter to her husband.
He took the child onto his lap, and there the little girl leaned back against his chest and brought her feet up onto his knees, hugging her legs with her arms. Presently, she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, breathed a shuddering sigh and popped two fingers into her mouth. A few seconds later, she was asleep.
The service lasted slightly less than half an hour, and when it was done, Kendra found herself with a new appreciation for Parker’s taste and sensibilities. The whole thing was carried off with decorum and dignity, from the opening chords of music to the closing words of prayer. The only really uncomfortable moments came when the caskets were opened for the final viewing. Contrary to custom, Parker elected to view the bodies first. Kendra was sure that he had crushed her fingers by the time they made the brief, obligatory pauses at the foot of each casket. The Pendletons were right behind them, the older children whispering and jostling as they approached the altar. Parker clearly did not wish to linger to witness whatever havoc they might wreak. Switching his grip from her hand to her elbow, he steered Kendra toward the side door that had been opened for them. Be
fore they made good their escape, however, the littlest Pendleton, carried in her father’s arms, was somehow awakened and set up a frightful shriek.
For several moments, Sandra and Heath Pendleton talked to their daughter in calm, level tones, explaining that there was nothing to fear, that Aunt Candace was neither cold nor in pain, but that she could not wake, sit up or speak. Finally Sandra began to grow impatient.
“You’re too intelligent to carry on like this,” she said sternly. “We discussed the clinical details of death at length only yesterday.”
“Clinical details,” Parker muttered, and before Kendra knew what he intended, he had left her there by the door and was striding purposefully back the way they had come. He walked straight to Heath Pendleton, but his softly spoken words, whatever they were, were for Sandra Pendleton alone. She stiffened as if he had struck her, but when he reached for her daughter, she made no protest, merely watched as the little girl went willingly into his arms and buried her face in the curve of his shoulder. As he carried the child to the door, he caught Kendra’s hand and pulled her along with them. “There, now,” he said the instant they stepped down into the hall. “You can cry all you want.”
The terrified cries abruptly ceased, and the child turned a damp, tear-stained face up at him. “I don’t like that!” she declared stoically.
Parker’s smile was grim. “Neither do I. In fact, I understand exactly how you feel. But there really is nothing to be afraid of, I promise. If you should have a bad dream or two, remember that. Okay?”
“‘Kay,” she said around her fingers, laying her head against his chest.
“Good girl.”
They wound their way through corridors that led to a back door. The limo waited for them, having been parked on an apron of cement adjacent to a covered walkway. They went to it and leaned against its fender. Parker sighed wearily, and the subdued child in his arms mimicked his action. He smiled at Kendra over the crown of the little one’s head, and she smiled back, thinking how natural he seemed with that child in his arms. She marveled, knowing that only one day earlier she would have scoffed at such a notion, but that was before he had brought Darla to her apartment, before he had asked Kendra to marry him. She knew now with dreadful certainty what she was going to do, and the knowledge did nothing to cheer her.
Suddenly Sandra Pendleton burst out onto the covered walkway, her brood close behind her. Indignantly, she stalked over to Parker and glared up at him. Her eyes narrowed, and she was huffing and puffing through her mouth, but she mastered the obvious desire to scream invective at him and lifted her chin.
“I...regret the disturbance,” she said stiltedly. “Now let me have my daughter.”
Parker’s expression remained blank as he handed over the child. Then quite deliberately he switched his gaze to the child, smiled warmly, tweaked her cheek and winked. The little girl beamed at him. Kendra rolled her eyes. Was there no female of any age whom he could not charm? Well, apparently there was one. Sandra Pendleton shifted the girl to her hip and fixed him with a belligerent stare.
“I’m well aware,” she said caustically, “that you disdain both my efforts and my intentions, but I implore you to abandon this selfish stance you’ve taken and release Candace’s child into my care. Whatever you think of me, I am far better able to care for an infant than you are, and you must know it!”
Parker shook his head. “I don’t know any such thing.”
“I know why you’re doing this!” she exclaimed. “You’re jealous! You’ve frittered away your life on pleasures and parties, and in your shame and grief you’re striking out at the only accomplished person within your reach. But think of the child! Think of her future.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing!” Parker retorted. “I’d rather see her go to a rank stranger than become material for your zany psychological experiments.”
“How dare you—”
“You leave me no choice!” he shouted. “Besides, I made a promise to my brother and sister-in-law! This was their idea, you know, not mine!”
Sandra sneered, curling her upper lip in a most unattractive manner. “Nathan and Candace were sweet people,” she said, “but they were both as pathetically ignorant as you. I know what they said and thought about my work! But the day will come when I am vindicated, Parker. Mark my words.”
“Maybe,” he said evenly, and his voice took on the ring of steel, “but it won’t be at Darla’s expense. Mark my words.”
Sandra turned suddenly to Kendra. “You look like an intelligent woman,” she said. “Make him see reason, please, before it’s too late. The child is already woefully behind. Candace just wouldn’t listen, you see. She couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of education beginning in the womb! But I’m sure I can bring little Darla up to speed with a relatively short period of intensive training, provided I can get to her quickly enough! Don’t you see? You must help me. You must help Darla.”
Intensive training for a four-month-old? Kendra was well aware that her mouth was hanging open, and she didn’t bother to close it. Instead she covered it with her hand and shook her head. “Sorry,” she managed to choke out, barely mastering an absurd desire to giggle, “I’m afraid I’m just one more speck in a sea of ignorance.”
Sandra stepped back, eyes narrowed to slits, jaw working side to side. She cocked her head and regarded them both snidely. Finally she sniffed and put her nose in the air. “I’ll see you in court, then,” she said to Parker before turning on her heel and striding away.
One by one, her wide-eyed flock followed. Last of all went Heath. A quiet, burly fellow with a passion for horticulture and too much colorless hair about his ears, he had always seemed the defenseless, long-suffering type to Kendra. The weak, apologetic shrug he gave them as he turned away did nothing to dispel the impression.
Parker waited skittishly until they were out of earshot before he vented the temper threatening to explode. “She’s crazy!” he exclaimed, poking holes in the air with a rigid finger. “No! She’s not crazy—she’s ambitious, egotistical!” He turned on Kendra, spreading his hands beseechingly. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t about Darla. This is about Sandra! She’s going to try her theories in court. She’s going to dazzle some poor, naive judge with her psychobabble, and after he hands over the kid—against the wishes of her deceased parents—Dr. Pendleton will happily thumb her nose at her critics! What better way to prove the validity of her screwy ideas?” He clapped both hands to his head. “God, I feel sorry for those kids!”
Kendra sighed, utterly defeated. “I see what you mean,” she admitted reluctantly.
He dropped his hands. “You do?”
She nodded. “I guess Nathan and Candace were right after all. She is rather...extreme.”
“That’s putting it mildly!”
Kendra cravenly changed the subject. “What did you say to her that made her let you take the little girl out of there?”
He folded his arms smugly. “I asked her if she was trying to impress everyone with her parenting skills, and because she was, she had no real option but to shut the kid up any way she could, even if it meant letting me take her out. To tell you the truth, I think she wanted Heath to do it, but because it went against her rule about being able to reason with properly trained children, he just didn’t catch on. You should have seen the look she gave him when I took the kid.”
Kendra remembered the way the child had gone into his arms without the least hesitation, as if she trusted him on sight. For the first time, Kendra admitted to herself that he had the makings of a wonderful father. Too bad that he just wasn’t decent husband material. Nevertheless, she was going to have to marry him. She just couldn’t let Sandra take the baby away from him. If only there was some other female who could do this! On the other hand, maybe there was. Well, it was worth a chance, anyway. She bit her lip, mentally seeking the best approach. They were in the car on the way to the cemetery when it came to her.
“Parker,” she said ca
refully, “are you still interested in getting married?”
He sat up straight, the weariness and pallor momentarily banished from his face. “Absolutely.”
“Well, I was wondering then,” she hurried on, “if you’d considered Jeanna?”
The sudden rise of his brows told her clearly that he had not, and she pressed on, making her case.
“I couldn’t help noticing that there’s some tension between the two of you and I thought that perhaps you had...that she had...grown more fond of you than was wise, perhaps.”
His smirk was blatantly arrogant. “You could say that.”
Kendra swallowed down an unexpected spurt of indignation. “Then surely that would work in your favor now. I’d bet that if you asked her, she’d—”
“You’d win that bet,” he told her flatly, “and that’s precisely why Jeanna Crowe is the last woman I’d ask to do this for me.”
Kendra looked at him in utter confusion. “You want a woman who doesn’t want you?”
“I want a temporary wife,” he snapped, “someone with enough compassion to help me protect Darla from Dr. Frankenstein-in-a-skirt, someone who won’t cling to my neck like a wet scarf once the objective is accomplished, and trust me, that is not Jeanna Crowe!”
The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. “You had an affair with her, didn’t you?”
He glowered at her. “Yes.”
“And she didn’t want it to end, did she?”
Something kindled in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes, and he shifted slightly toward her. “No.”
“You hurt her!” she accused.
He flexed a muscle in his jaw. “She hurt herself. ‘Fun and games, Parker,’ she said. ‘Just fun and games.’”
“But you knew she hoped it would become more,” she whispered. “You knew she was hoping for love!”
He stared at her a moment longer, and then he blinked and turned away. “Yes,” he said.
She felt tears burning her eyes. It was the day, she told herself, this damned difficult day! What did she care if he’d had “fun and games” with Jeanna? She didn’t. She simply felt sorry for her friend, foolish, silly Jeanna. For Parker, she felt nothing but contempt. And that was exactly why she had to do it. She was probably the only female in the whole blasted city who was immune to that fatal Sugarman charm. She could keep Darla out of Sandra Pendleton’s “laboratory” and fulfill the last wishes of two of her dearest friends, and she could do it—she’d be damned if she couldn’t!—without sacrificing either her heart or her dignity to Parker Sugarman’s libido, which was saying a lot more than any of his “play partners” could say.
