Adding Up to Marriage

by Karen Templeton

  Especially when it vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

  “I have to say, Jewel,” Silas’s father said, his hands cradling a belly well-rounded before he’d consumed four pieces of fried chicken and made-from-scratch chocolate cake with buttercream frosting, “you’re almost as good a cook as my Donna.” This, Silas noted, with a wink for his mother, who, knuckling her cheek, gave his dad a sly smile followed by a gentle slap on his forearm.

  “And I will consider that high praise indeed,” Jewel said with a smile as she stood to gather the dishes off the kitchen table, only to give Silas a funny look when he practically snatched the nearly empty chicken platter out of her hands.

  “You cooked, the boys and I will do the dishes. Won’t we, guys?” he said pointedly to his progeny, who reluctantly slid from their seats and trudged over to the trash to begin scraping the bone-heaped plates already on the counter. No fool he, Doughboy roused himself from his bed by the back door and lumbered over to keep them company.

  Donna laughed. “Your poor daddy’s about had it with heated up casseroles from the church ladies. And where did you learn to bake like that?”

  Although Jewel had relinquished the clean-up duty easily enough, now she stood by the counter with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her lightweight sweater, as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.

  “When I was a little girl, we lived next door for a while to this lady who won all sorts of awards and stuff for her cakes and pies. One day I asked her if she’d teach me, and she said okay. That was her fried chicken, too.” She sort of laughed. “Mama was never much of a cook, so I learned how in self-defense.”

  Silas glanced over in time to see her flush, shove a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “Um…if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some studying done tonight. Unless you want me to help with the boys…?”

  “No, you go on,” Silas said. “Technically you’re off duty at five, anyway.”

  Then, because clearly his brain had taken off for parts unknown, he stared after her as she left.

  A minute or so later, their chore done, the boys grabbed their Papa’s hands and dragged him into the living room to read to them. Leaving Silas alone with his mother.

  “That gal’s the sweetest thing, isn’t she?”

  Silas rinsed the platter and stuck it in the dishwasher. “I suppose.”

  “Real fine cook, too. And the boys certainly seem fond of her—”

  “Ma. Don’t.”

  Instead of taking offense, Donna patted the chair beside her. “Quit that for a minute and come sit.”

  Expelling a huge breath, Silas scrubbed his hands on a dishtowel, lobbing it at the counter before he slumped into his chair like a pissed-off teenager. His mother chuckled, a halo of rebellious hair floating around her nearly wrinkle-free face. “It must really suck, having such a bully for a mama.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said, his mouth pulling into a smile despite himself.

  Donna laughed again, then propped her chin in her hand, the twinkle fading from her eyes. “That gal’s a real lost soul, isn’t she?”

  Silas’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think she’s interested in being saved, Mom.”

  His mother’s chest wobbled when she chuckled. “The ones who most need it usually aren’t. But I’m not talking about matters of faith, I’m talking about that look in her eyes, like she’s scared at any moment she’s gonna get the boot. And out of all my boys,” Donna continued with a tender smile, “you were the one most likely to bring home baby birds and the like. Unfortunately for you, that baby bird’s got a broken wing you haven’t yet figured out how to fix.”

  Not looking at his mother, Silas tapped his thumb against the table for several seconds before saying, “Let’s just say stability wasn’t exactly a hallmark of her childhood.” At his mother’s raised brows, he said, “Her mother showed up out of the blue earlier today,” then shared the more salient points of the conversation that had followed.

  “I see.”

  “Good for you, ’cause I sure as hell don’t.”

  “Guess that depends what you’re looking for.”

  “I’m not looking for anything.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course you are. We all are. Even if we don’t know it. And yes, I’m going all flower child on you. Deal with it. Look,” she said, leaning closer, “something about Jewel’s obviously troubling you. Or at least perplexing you. No shame in that.” She smiled. “And I promise I won’t read more into it than there is.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Silas said, and his mother lightly smacked his shoulder. Then he sighed. “It’s her whole ‘I’m just a kid’ schtick—I’m not buying it.”

  Using a discarded napkin to sweep up crumbs from the table, Donna said, “Noah said the same thing, not two days ago.”

  Silas frowned. “Noah?”

  “What, he’s not allowed to have an opinion?”

  “Of course he is, but…”

  “But…?” Donna coaxed, her mouth twitching.

  “Nothing,” Silas irritably mumbled, crossing his arms. “What, exactly, did he say?”

  “Same as you, more or less. That her ditzy routine’s an act. He saw through her in a heartbeat. But then, I suppose Noah has more experience with that sort of thing than you do.”

  “And you say that like it doesn’t even bother you.”

  “Oh, Noah will find his way. Or rather some woman will find him, and the poor boy won’t know what hit him. But that’s a crisis for another day. Right now we’re talking about Jewel. And her mama.” Donna’s brow bunched. “A figure skater, huh? To get as far as she did—that takes a lot of discipline.”

  “And what does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure. But you know me, looking for the good in everybody.”

  One side of Silas’s mouth hiked up. “Even Jewel won’t come right out and accuse her mother of messing her up. According to her, Kathryn’s not a bad person, just clueless—”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Got it!” Jewel yelled as she sprinted from her room, phone in hand, to yank open the door and let out a strangled shriek; Silas arrived on the scene just in time to witness her hauling some skinny, shaggy, baggy kid into her arms.

  Only to let go, slug him in the arm, yell, “What the heck were you thinking?” then hug him all over again, until the grinning kid untangled himself from her grip enough to look up and say, “Oh, hey—you must be Silas, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah. And you are?”

  The grin stretched so far the boy’s ears rose a half inch.

  “Aaron. Jewel’s stepbrother.”

  “I cannot believe you hitched!” Jewel said, slapping her brother on the arm through his thick hoodie before setting a plate piled with fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and coleslaw in front of him. The first but probably not the last, she was guessing, since he’d already edged past six feet at fifteen, for God’s sake. Silas’s parents had gone back home, although Donna gave her the requisite “Let us know if you need anything” spiel before she left, and Silas was putting the boys to bed. Leaving Jewel mercifully alone with her brother so she could smack him around without witnesses. “Are you insane? You want tea or milk?”

  “Milk, please. And I didn’t exactly hitch—” Aaron grabbed the glass from her before it reached the table, gulped half of it down “—I got a ride from my friend’s older brother’s best bud, he was coming down to Albuquerque, anyway.”

  “Then why didn’t you say that to begin with?” Jewel said, dropping into the seat catty-corner to him, watching him stuff food in his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “You said ‘hitched’—” Then she shook her hands. “Never mind. But how did you find me here?”

  “You said it was a small town, everybody knew everybody else’s business—I asked at that Mexican restaurant, the lady at the register told me where you were.”

  Probably how her mother had found her, too. Which was neither here n
or there. She frowned. “And…how did you get from there to here?”

  “Some dude at the restaurant brought me. It’s okay, the same lady said I’d be fine, and she doesn’t look like somebody you’d mess with.”

  “Big gal? Older? Dyed black hair?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s Evangelista, she owns the place. And you’re right, nobody’d mess with her. But, Aaron, honey…” She dipped her head to look up underneath his straggly, dishwater blond bangs. “You can’t stay here. You’ve gotta go back and work this out with your dad.”

  “No way, sorry.” His head wagging, Aaron stripped half the meat off a drumstick with one bite. “He’s getting married to that chick I told you about. Witch Woman.” He barely glanced at Jewel, but long enough for her to catch the tears. Damn.

  “Oh, sweetie…” Sighing, she sagged back in the chair, her arms crossed. “I hurt for you, I really do. But this isn’t even my house, there’s barely room for me in the office, let alone you—”

  “I don’t mind, I’ve got my sleeping bag. You won’t even know I’m here, promise. Besides, you said your place will be fixed in a week or so, right?”

  “That’s not my house, either.” When Aaron frowned at her, chewing, she waved her hand again. “Never mind. Aaron. You’re not listening—”

  “I thought you missed me?”

  “Of course I miss you! Like you wouldn’t believe! But…I can’t take care of you—”

  “And like I said, you don’t have to take care of me. I’m not helpless! I just…need someplace to stay.”

  “Oh, geez, baby—”

  “It’s totally okay with Dad. And for cripes’ sake, I’m not a baby!”

  No, he definitely was not. Except for the zits peeking through the bangs and the peach-fuzzed lip and teary eyes. Jewel sighed. “So if I called him right now, he’d say that.”

  The kid’s honey-colored eyes meeting hers, he dug out his cell phone and handed it to her. “Go ahead—” Then looking past her, he stood so fast his chair tipped backwards. “I didn’t mean to be any trouble, Mr. Garrett,” he said, fumbling for the chair before it hit the floor, his cheeks bright red when he shoved his hair off his forehead. “I honestly had no idea Jewel wasn’t in her own place, sir. I’m sorry.”

  Silas stared hard at her brother for several seconds, then rammed his hands into his back pockets. “And maybe,” he said quietly, “you should’ve found out exactly what your sister’s situation was before simply showing up and upsetting her.”

  Jewel’s mouth fell open. “I’m not—”

  “Yeah, you are,” Aaron said, looking sheepish, before cutting his eyes to Silas again, only to dip his head. “Guess I didn’t exactly think that one through, huh?”

  Jewel saw Silas take a deep, steadying breath. “How old are you again?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Silas’s gaze touched Jewel’s before returning to her brother. “There’s a futon in my family’s shop, about a mile from here. You can crash there tonight. Go ahead and finish your meal, come get me in the living room when you’re done, I’ll drive you over.”

  After Silas left the room Aaron looked to her, his brows nearly meeting over his nose. “This isn’t exactly working out the way I’d planned.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when a person charges ahead with something when he’s already been told it won’t work. So you should consider yourself lucky to have someplace to sleep at all.” Jewel stood to take his dish. “Silas was under no obligation to offer you even that much. You’re none of his concern. That he did…” She walked over to the sink, realizing her hands were shaking. “Frankly,” she said, turning, “I’d’ve put you on the first bus back to Denver.”

  “Really?” Aaron flashed her that wicked, dimpled smile that had instantly melted her heart when she’d first clapped eyes on the adorable two-year-old, and could still work its charm thirteen years later. “No. But,” she said when he laughed, “only because I don’t have the money right now. This is serious, Aaron. And you sleeping on the futon in the Garretts’ shop isn’t even remotely close to a solution.”

  The kid’s smile faded, even as his gaze swung to the leftover cake glittering like a trophy underneath the glass cover. Sighing, Jewel yanked a plate out of the cupboard and cut him a double slice.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, forking in a huge bite. Then he peered up at her from underneath his bangs. “You didn’t finish your sentence.”

  “What sentence?”

  “You said something about me being none of Silas’s concern, then you said, ‘That he did…’. That he did, what?”

  “I can’t remember,” she lied, taking his already empty plate to cut him another slice, watching herself—once more—get sucked into something without her permission.

  And she wasn’t only talking about her brother.

  Truth be told, Silas’s first reaction when he’d seen Jewel pull the scrawny, sad sack kid into her arms was Oh, hell no. More responsibility, he did not need. But what was he gonna do? Toss the kid out on his butt?

  Besides, once he got past the initial Why me?, Reaction Number Two clobbered him on the head, which was that if he wanted to go digging in Jewel’s past, who better to hand him a map and shovel than her stepbrother?

  Yeah. About that. In a week, tops, Jewel’d be out of his house, out of his life—except for the babysitting which was minimal contact—and all that stuff about it making him crazy unless he figured out what made her tick? It would fade. If he gave it half a chance. And/or told his brain to shut the hell up about it. Whatever was going on inside Jewel’s head, it wasn’t up to Silas to know, or fix, or make better.

  Or her kid brother, sunk down with exhaustion in the seat next to him. Except Silas sensed Aaron was genuinely miserable, that he hadn’t taken off on a lark, which naturally tugged at Silas’s heart.

  Even so, the boy shouldn’t be rewarded for running away, nor did Jewel need that extra burden right now. Hence the futon offer. Not that sleeping in the office was like being consigned to hell: Silas, as well as all of his brothers, had all crashed on that futon at one time or another, for one reason or another, and lived to tell the tale. But the shop was what it was. And what it was, was several notches below a Motel 6.

  “Your father even know where you are?” Silas said when they got inside and the kid dumped his backpack and bed-roll onto the office’s scuffed wood floor.

  “Yeah, actually.” He held up his phone. “GPS. Nice being tracked like some loser criminal, huh?”

  “Considering what you did, not such a bad idea.” The kid grimaced. “You need to at least tell him you’re okay—”

  “My father doesn’t give a crap about me,” the boy said quietly, plopping onto the edge of the futon and bouncing a little before popping back up to undo his sleeping bag, spread it out on the mattress. “And I’m not saying that because I’m some spoiled brat who’s pissed because he didn’t buy me the newest game system or something. He gives me everything I ask for. Except himself. It sucks, and I…” He swallowed. “I got tired of being last in line, okay?”

  If the kid had snarled at him, or given him attitude, that would have been one thing. But he hadn’t, which tamped down Silas’s annoyance. He propped one hip on the desk, his hands linked on his lap.

  “You pulled a fast one on your sister, though. That wasn’t exactly cool.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Aaron shoved his long fingers, the nails chewed to the quick, through his stringy hair. “But I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She died when I was little. I never even knew her.” The sleeping bag arranged to his satisfaction, he flopped on it, his skate shoes thudding to the floor when he toed them off. He leaned over to drag another hoodie out of his backpack, wadding it up and stuffing it behind his head. “Jewel was the closest I ever got to somebody acting like my mom. When her mom and my dad split, I felt like somebody’d punched me in the gut.”


  Ah, hell. It was everything Silas could do not to yank the kid into his arms himself. “But she’s only, what? Nine, ten years older than you?”

  Aaron wriggled around to prop his head in his hand. “Yeah. I know. But it was her who cooked and cleaned and stuff, who came into my room at night when I got scared. Who took me to school and helped me with my homework. Dude—she took care of me. She cared about me. Nobody else did. Ever. So now…”

  His Adam’s apple working, he shook his head. “I didn’t know where else to go. I know we’re not related by blood or anything, but she’s, like all I’ve got. Hey—” Spotting the computer, he bounced upright again. “You got wireless? ’Cause I could totally gank your signal for my laptop.”

  Silas pushed himself away from the desk. “Knock yourself out. On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Call your father. Maybe it doesn’t matter to him,” he said when the boy opened his mouth, “but it matters to Jewel. And me.”

  “Okay, fine. Whatever. But it won’t make any difference.”

  Thinking, And this is what I have to look forward to, Silas walked to the door. “It shouldn’t get too cold in here, but there’s a space heater if it does. Just turn it off when you go to sleep. Somebody’ll come get you for breakfast around seven-thirty. And…”

  And, what? This wasn’t his problem to solve.

  Yeah. Say it another hundred times or so, and maybe you’ll actually believe it.

  “And we’ll figure out what comes next,” he said. “’Night.”

  “’Night. Silas?”

  He twisted back. “Yeah?”

  His laptop already open, the kid looked up, his face silver in the glow from the computer screen. “I know this has nothing to do with you. So I really, really appreciate you not kicking me to the curb or anything. Seriously, thanks. And if there’s anything I can do to, like, return the favor? I’m totally cool with that.”

  “You’re welcome,” Silas said after a moment. “Although you might want to wait to see what we decide before you thank me. See you in the morning.”