Kids Is A 4-Letter Word

by Stephanie Bond

  On the way to the Sterling house, her mother called on the car phone and chatted about nothing for ten minutes, then cleared her throat and said, “Josephine, I hope you remembered to see your doctor and arrange for birth control.”

  Stunned, Jo realized her mother thought she was still a virgin. It took her a few seconds to recover. “Yes, Mother.”

  “Good, because the wedding night can be very scary if you’re not prepared.”

  Pamela would not believe this conversation. “Okay.”

  “So, are you—” Helen cleared her throat again “—prepared, dear?”

  Jo bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. “I think I know what to expect, Mother, yes.”

  “Good, because if you have any questions, I’ll be glad to answer them, or if I don’t know, I’ll ask your father.”

  Jo held up the handset and looked at it, incredulous. She put the phone back to her mouth and said, “Thanks, Mom.”

  By the time she pulled into John’s driveway, she was a walking bundle of nerves. The entire house was lit up, and Jo sat looking at it, realizing how accustomed she’d grown to its rooms, its lines, its ambience. She stepped out of the car, zipping her coat, then pulled the carton of books from the trunk and headed toward the door.

  She’d barely reached the top step when the door flew open and the kids came running out.

  “Jo!” Jamie cried. “My room is neato!”

  “Where’s your cape?” she asked.

  “I’m just Jamie again,” he said bluntly, then smiled shyly, a first. “You can call me that—Jamie, I mean—if you want to.”

  Claire pulled her down for a whisper. “My boobies don’t hurt anymore, Jo. And guess what?”

  “What?” Jo whispered back.

  “Jeremy Winder carried my books to math class!”

  “Really?” Jo’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t tell Daddy,” Claire begged.

  “It’s our secret,” Jo promised.

  “Just Plain Jo!” Billy said, pulling on her pants leg. “Billy is big boy now.”

  She noted the lack of a diaper under his jeans with an exaggerated gasp. “Yes, you are a big boy, aren’t you?”

  “Need a hand?” John asked from the doorway.

  She looked up and drank in the length of him, head to toe, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed casually. Her mouth went dry, and she could only hand him the carton. “There are two more in my car,” she said, turning back to get them.

  He told the kids to come in from the cold, then caught up with her and withdrew the larger box, leaving the smaller one for her. “So, Saturday’s the big day.”

  She smiled, avoiding his gaze. “Uh-huh.”

  “My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

  Glancing up, she said, “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

  “Who knows?” His voice was soft and teasing. “I might just crash the party.”

  He walked ahead of her, then said over his shoulder. “What’s in these boxes, anyway?”

  “Books!” Claire squealed from inside the house, lifting volumes from the first carton. They set down the other boxes and Jo watched as Claire arranged the books chronologically, fingering the spines lovingly. Once she’d finished, she rose and hugged Jo around the waist. “Thanks, Jo. I’ll take good care of them.”

  “I know you will,” Jo said, stroking her hair.

  John cleared his throat loudly, then asked abruptly, “Aren’t we supposed to be doing a walk-through?”

  “Right,” Jo said, releasing Claire. He obviously wanted her to leave as soon as possible.

  To force herself to keep her mind on business, Jo grabbed a clipboard and pen, then backtracked with John to the entryway. He coolly approved each selection from wallpaper to sculpture. In his office, Jo noticed that several wide file cabinets had been added, along with a drafting table.

  “I decided to move my office home,” he explained. “To be with the kids as much as possible.”

  Jo nodded, her admiration for John growing even as her chest tightened with pain. He was a good father and deserved a partner who would be an equally good parent. She brushed aside the disturbing thoughts and forged ahead with the walk-through.

  They moved throughout the downstairs, Jo’s spirits alternately lifting and falling when she recognized how well the rooms had turned out and how much she was going to miss being in them. She especially liked the green kitchen, and had instructed a still life of Annie’s be hung by the breakfast table. The overall effect of the first floor was homey and livable. She could tell John liked it very much because his children moved through the rooms so comfortably.

  They all climbed the stairs, the boys showing off their room first, then Claire. Jo pretended she had never seen any of it before tonight, exclaiming over every piece of furniture, and every picture. After reviewing the guest room, they left the kids in their rooms and she followed John to the master suite, conscious of her physical reaction to his proximity in the intimate setting.

  He opened the door, and Jo caught her breath. The room was still decorated as beautifully as she’d left it, but John had changed it to reflect the way she’d presented it to him with the software: the bed was turned down, jazz music played softly, even a fire in the sitting-room fireplace. It was stunning and titillating.

  “H-how’s the new mattress?” she asked, her eyes riveted to the bed.

  “Heavenly—didn’t you try it?”

  She raised her gaze to find him staring at her. “No.”

  His smile was slow and provocative. “Want to?”

  Unsaid words hung in the air between them. Jo blinked first. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she said quickly, moving away from him. “You’re happy with the rooms, then?”

  “As happy as I can be under the circumstances.”

  She looked at him and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Look around—these rooms are for lovers, not for one man to rattle around in.”

  She felt her cheeks grow even warmer.

  He laughed ruefully. “You know, when I asked you to decorate this home to your taste, I thought it was a brilliant strategy.”

  “You don’t like it?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Oh, I like it tremendously,” John assured her, then added softly, “but my strategy backfired, because you’re in every room.”

  Jo stared at him, and her mouth opened. Her brain short-circuited and transmitted words of love to her tongue, but they stalled there. She longed to share this room with him, to lie beneath him in his bed—but a frightening thought crossed her mind. What if she sacrificed everything for this man only to discover a few months from now that the lust had diminished and she was left with a husband who didn’t love her and three children she couldn’t bear to leave?

  “I have to go,” she said suddenly, backing out of the room. She trotted down the stairs and gathered up odds and ends she’d left lying around in far corners of the house—a ruler, a level, color strips.

  When she turned toward the front door, she was surprised to see the four of them standing together. Claire stepped up and handed her a gift wrapped in ratty Christmas paper. “It’s from all of us,” she said. “So you don’t forget.”

  Jo’s hands shook as she removed the paper to reveal a framed picture, painted by Claire. It was the front of their house, impressively detailed and colored. In the yard stood a tall man with red hair, and three children, all appropriately sized and hair-colored. The picture blurred as Jo’s eyes watered, her throat clogged with emotion.

  “We signed our own names,” Jamie said, his voice full of pride. “Except for Billy—he used his handprint.”

  “And Dad picked out the frame,” Claire piped in.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jo said tearfully, kneeling to gather them in a hug. “Thank you. I’ll miss all of you.”

  She released them abruptly, then stood and faced John.

  He looked at her, through her,
not really focusing. “Good luck, Jo.”

  She nodded. “Goodbye, John.” Then she turned and walked out the door, clasping the picture to her chest.

  “JO!” Pamela admonished. “Everyone’s waiting!”

  Jo looked up from her handkerchief into her best friend’s concerned face. “I can’t stop crying.”

  “It’s your wedding day—you’re supposed to cry.” “Not this much, Pamela. I don’t think I can do it.” “Of course you can do it. Alan’s waiting up there with a huge grin on his face, and I’m wearing this horrid peach taffeta dress—all for you.”

  Jo smiled through her tears and took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “I can do this, I can do this.” She kept repeating it to herself as she exited the dressing room and her father offered her his arm.

  “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, beaming. “Are you ready?”

  Jo nodded and kept repeating, “I can do this, I can do this.” But as soon as the doors to the small chapel were opened, she began to sob and nearly buckled. Her poor father half pushed, half dragged her down the aisle past a jam-packed crowd of family and friends and deposited her beside Alan, whose forehead was slightly creased with concern. “Jo,” he whispered, “are you all right?” She nodded, then yanked the silk hankie from his breast pocket and blew her nose mightily.

  The music ended, and the preacher began, “Dearly beloved—”

  “Wait,” Jo said, holding up her hand. The audience gasped.

  “Jo,” Alan snapped, “what is wrong with you?”

  “I need a minute with my aunt.”

  Alan looked incredulous. “What?”

  Jo turned around and held her gloved hand over her eyes against the bright lights. “Hattie, where are you?”

  Her aunt stood in the second row and made her way to the aisle. “Right here, dear.”

  Jo waved her over behind the organist, then turned to the singers and said, “Sing something.”

  They broke into a hesitant version of ‘O Promise Me,’ then Jo asked Hattie, “So, how’s Torry?”

  Hattie’s smile was joyous. “He’s simply wonderful.”

  “Do you think you two will get married?”

  “Oh, yes.” Hattie nodded convincingly, dislodging a bright orange straw hat with a white plume. “He proposed last night.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Like I said, Jo, you know when it’s right.”

  “What are you going to tell Herbert?”

  “That I hope he finds someone who loves him the way I love Torry.”

  A cold hand wrapped around Jo’s arm from behind, and she turned to face her mother. “Josephine Helena Montgomery, are you trying to send me to the grave from a heart attack?”

  “Mother, I just want to be sure I’m marrying the right man.”

  “The right man?” Helen said tightly. “Look at your groom, darling! He’s gorgeous, he’s smart, he’s successful—”

  Jo looked at Hattie. “She’s right.”

  “But does he curl your toes?” Hattie asked.

  Helen frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come on, Helen, I’m talking about the bedroom—”

  “Stop right there, Hattie!” Helen held up her hand. “I’ll not have you talking about perverted things in front of my daughter.”

  At the sound of a deep voice being cleared, Jo looked over her shoulder.

  “Jo,” Alan said, motioning to the crowd. “Everyone’s getting a little restless. What’s going on over here?”

  Jo shooed her mother and aunt back to the pews, then turned to Alan. She looked into his eyes and all the powerful feelings of admiration, respect and companionship were resurrected. Alan loved her, and would make her happy.

  “I’m ready,” she announced.

  They took their places and the singers stopped mid-lyric. The minister began again, and so did Jo’s tears. She leaned on Alan and sobbed throughout the introduction. John didn’t love her. He’d move on to find a mommy for his kids—someone who could cook and sew and swap coupons with other mothers. When the minister asked if anyone objected to the joining of this couple, the only sound that could be heard were her sobs echoing off the walls.

  The minister paused for so long even she looked up at him. Then the peal of a bell sounded, jarring everyone to their feet. “Fire alarm!” the minister shouted. “Everyone stay calm—”

  But his words fell on deaf ears. The guests stampeded to the back of the church, out into the hall and down the front steps. Worry and relief flooded Jo when she realized the ceremony would be delayed a little longer. She and Alan were among the last to emerge into the cold, blustery wind. Rain was threatening to spill from the gray sky any moment. Remembering what John had said about crashing the party, she shivered and scanned the milling crowd for his face, wondering if he might have slipped in to sit in a back pew.

  “Jo!”

  She knew that voice: Jamie. Jo turned to see all three children standing together under a tree, waving. Claire’s words came back to her: “What if something happens and you don’t marry Alan, then would you marry my daddy?” One look at Jamie’s face and she began to suspect who had pulled the fire alarm. She walked over to them as fast as her long dress would allow. “What are you kids doing here?”

  Claire raised her chin and poked her glasses. “Jo, we want you to be our mommy.”

  “Yeah!” Jamie said.

  “Jo-mommy!” Billy chimed in.

  The minister called for everyone to return to the church. “False alarm!” he shouted.

  Jo looked at them and sighed. “Come with me,” she said, extending both hands. Linking on to her, the children followed her into the church and down the hall into the dressing room. She sat down and motioned for them to sit at her feet.

  “How did you get here?”

  “We took a taxi,” Jamie said proudly.

  “We showed the driver the wedding announcement in the paper and told him to bring us,” Claire said. “Then we left a note for Daddy.”

  “Jo-mommy!”

  “Can’t you be our mommy, Jo?” Claire pleaded.

  Jo’s eyes watered, but she was nearly cried out. “Claire, you’ll understand this better than the boys, so please listen very carefully, okay?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “To make a marriage last, two people have to really love each other. Your daddy can’t marry me just because the three of you want him to, do you understand?”

  Claire nodded. “I think so. You’re saying that daddy doesn’t love you.”

  Jo nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Does Alan love-you?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “And you love Alan?”

  Jo hesitated, then said, “There are different kinds of love, and yes, I love Alan on one of those levels.” She heard a sound behind them, and froze. Slowly, she turned to see not only Alan, but John standing in the doorway. Alan’s face was a mask of disappointment, and John’s…his was unreadable.

  “Kids,” she said softly, “I need to talk to Alan alone for a few minutes. Would you wait outside?”

  John collected them at the door and herded them into the hall, closing the door behind them.

  Jo walked up to Alan and touched his hand. When he opened it, she placed her engagement ring in his palm. “I can’t marry you, Alan. I’m sorry. You’ve been good to me, and I’ll always admire, respect and care for you, but you deserve someone who loves you more than I do.”

  Alan pursed his lips, his blue eyes welling with unshed tears. “It’s Sterling, isn’t it?”

  Jo swallowed, her chest aching for what she and Alan had once meant to each other. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Alan, but yes, I’m in love with him.”

  “How does he feel about you?” he asked, his voice choked.

  She smiled. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Well,” he said, attempting to laugh, “I feel like a marathoner who just lost a race t
o a spectator.”

  “Alan,” she said softly, “I hope we can—”

  “Still be friends,” he finished for her, then gave her a pained smile. He inhaled deeply and expelled the breath noisily. “If he’s not good to you, Jo, he’ll have to answer to me.”

  She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Alan.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes as she watched him leave, then she walked toward the door to tell the children goodbye. Suddenly John appeared in the doorway and Jo stopped, unable to move.

  “Am I correct in assuming that since your fiancé just left looking like a wounded animal, you are now unengaged and available?”

  Jo’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes.”

  John walked into the room and dropped to one knee in front of her. His green eyes shone soft and warm. “And if I professed my undying love, would you give your hand in marriage to me?”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “Start professing.”

  “Jo,” he said, taking her hand, “I’ve thought of nothing but you since the first second I saw you.” He bit his lip, then smiled. “I’m crazy in love with you, and I can’t bear it if you don’t love me, too.”

  Inhaling sharply, she mirrored his smile. “In that case, I have good news.”

  He grinned and rose to his feet, holding her by her arms. “Say it,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to within an inch of hers.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “With all my strength.”

  “Say you’ll marry me,” he breathed.

  “I’ll marry you.”

  The sound of giggling reached their ears and they turned to see all three children crowded in the doorway.

  Jamie grinned. “Are you gonna kiss her, Daddy?”

  John looked back to Jo and laughed, shaking his head. “I sure am, son.” He tilted his head and captured her lips in their first truly uninhibited kiss, straining toward each other, but somehow managing to keep it G-rated for their cheering audience.

  Amidst the background of clapping, Jo said, “Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good dress and a perfectly good church and perfectly good food, doesn’t it?”