Adding Up to Marriage

by Karen Templeton

  When he got back, Jewel was still at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. He thought at first she’d been crying, but when she lifted her head she was dry-eyed, her brows drawn behind her glasses. Obviously miffed, but not a basket case. Then Silas thought about what Aaron had said, about her being the only mother figure he’d ever had, and he thought, Gotcha.

  Except, somehow, it felt a helluva lot more like he was the one who’d been caught.

  Chapter Eight

  “I’m so, so sorry about this,” Jewel said before Silas could open his mouth.

  Silas looked at her for a long moment, then moseyed over to the cake platter, cutting himself another piece and plunking it on a napkin. “I’m a lot more sorry about this,” he muttered around a bite, dripping crumbs all over his shirt. “Triple Temptation, you should call it.”

  Jewel smiled, but it wasn’t her normal puppies and rainbows smile. And it faded fast. “Oh, Lord, Silas…first my mother, then Aaron, both in the same day…so not fair.”

  “To which one of us?”

  She burbled out a laugh. “Both.” Then she sighed. “I called Aaron’s dad while you were gone.”

  “Oh? And?”

  “Went straight to voice mail. I mean, if it was your kid, wouldn’t you be jumping on the phone the minute it rang? Or calling his cell? Geezy Pete—what is wrong with that man?”

  Her obvious worry about someone she hadn’t seen since she was sixteen, who wasn’t even a blood relative, cut Silas to the quick. Then it struck him, especially when he considered her extremely charitable attitude toward her mother, that there wasn’t a soul on earth more loyal than Jewel Jasper. That when she loved, she loved like a child—deep and forever and unconditionally.

  Not helping, he thought, the bite of cake clogging his throat. He grabbed some child’s leftover milk from dinner and gulped it down.

  “You really care about the kid, don’t you?”

  A small, heartbreaking smile touched her mouth, and he wanted to hold her so badly it made him dizzy. “Probably way more than I should.”

  “No such thing. Sounds like he’s damn lucky to have you in his life.”

  She blushed. “You’re sweet to say so, but what good am I to him right now? Especially if I have to send him back…” Cradling her head in her hands, she muttered, “I have no earthly idea how to fix this.”

  “And maybe you should go on to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning—”

  “This isn’t your problem, Silas!” Straightening her glasses, she blew her nose into a napkin. “Oh, Lord, if I’d had any idea…” Her mouth flat, she met his gaze, her own an odd combination of confusion, vexation and determination. “The last thing I wanted, or expected, when I accepted either of your offers was for you to get sucked into my family dramas. I keep thinking you must be having some serious regrets, right about now. You want me to make other arrangements, I’d completely understand—”

  Without thinking, Silas reached across the table and grabbed her hand. Not the smartest move he could’ve made, considering the zzzzt that practically made him lurch, both at her touch and the way her eyes latched on to his in response, but too late now.

  “And you can stop that train of thought right now. You’re not going anywhere. Unless you want to.” After a moment, she slowly shook her head and Silas released her hand. “Besides, you got a hefty dose of my parents tonight, too. I think we can call it even.”

  Tucking her hands into her crossed arms, she smiled. “You may have a point. Although there’s a big difference between cooking a little dinner and suddenly having a runaway on your hands. And I repeat—this is my problem. Not yours.”

  Silas settled back in his chair, considering how much he should say. Finally he settled on, “When’s the last time you had anybody there for you?”

  Her gaze instantly sharpened. “What do you mean?”

  “Aaron told me you as good as raised him when you were kids. That for all intents and purposes you were his mom.”

  Jewel flushed, then gave a nervous laugh. “He was exaggerating, he was far too little to remember…”

  “Then you didn’t do all the cooking and laundry? You weren’t the one who comforted him when he had a bad dream?”

  Her cheeks got so bright he half expected them to combust. “I was only doing what needed to be done. And it wasn’t like I minded. Keeping everything in order, being who Aaron came to when he was scared or sad…it made me feel good. Like…”

  “Like you mattered?”

  “No! Okay—” she toyed with one of her earrings “—maybe deep down that was partly true, although I don’t remember thinking about myself at the time. All I wanted was to see him happy. And you know as well as I do there’s no better feeling on earth than when a little kid trusts you. So…maybe it did make me feel like I mattered. Mattered to him.”

  “And he wasn’t the only one you took care of, was he?”

  When her eyes lowered, Silas reached for her hand again. “I knew there was something screwy about what you said earlier, when you gave me that song and dance about how you had never really grown up because your mother hadn’t. In fact, the opposite was true, wasn’t it? Not the part about your mother’s immaturity—I’ve met the woman, there’s no denying that—but it wasn’t that you never had a chance to grow up. It was that you grew up too soon.”

  Her eyes glanced off his before she got up to cover the cake again. Oddly encouraged by her silence—at least she wasn’t denying it—Silas pushed further. “What I’m not understanding, is why the act?”

  Her gaze jerked to his. “Act?”

  “Yeah. No damn way are you a space cadet. But something tells me you want people to think you are. I don’t get it.”

  Jewel scraped the frosting off the knife blade with her index finger, sticking the goo in her mouth before dropping the knife into the dishwasher. “Liking to have fun doesn’t make me a space cadet,” she said softly.

  “The Beanie Babies?”

  She almost smiled, only to slide to the floor to hug the dog, not even trying to dodge The Tongue. “You know, sometimes I think the world would be a much better place if more people let themselves act like kids from time to time. I don’t mean shirking their responsibilities, or not being able to function on their own. But being able to simply enjoy life without analyzing everything to death.”

  “Believe it or not, I agree,” Silas said quietly, hurting for her, for what had been so rudely taken from her. “The world does need more of that. But that’s not what I’m talking about. Which you know.”

  She glanced up. “It’s just easier that way.”

  “What’s easier?”

  “Life. My life, anyway.”

  “Still not getting it, honey.”

  After a long, considering look, she got up and shuffled back to the table to drop into the chair again. “Okay, you’re right, I was the caretaker in my family from the time I was old enough to run the washer and reach the stove. I honestly don’t know if I picked up the slack because I wanted Mama to notice me, I was genuinely afraid I’d starve to death or because I’m a nurturer. All three, I suppose. However…”

  She took a deep breath. “I love my mother, Silas. And I know she loves me. But somewhere along the way it hit me I’d become a doormat. That I was enabling Mama—not that I knew the term at the time, but that was the truth of it—by doing everything for her so she wouldn’t have to. Even after I’d had my little revelation, though, it was simply easier to stick with the status-quo than to try to change things. Change her. Finally it occurred to me that was never going to happen—for either of us—unless I left.”

  And he could see it in her eyes, that the decision had nearly killed her. “When was this?” he asked gently.

  “The epiphany? When I was still in high school. Couldn’t get away, though, until college. We were living in Las Cruces then. I think—we lived so many places it’s hard to remember—but I ‘escaped’ to Albuquerque when I got a scholarship to UNM
nursing school.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Moved to Albuquerque to be closer to me.”

  “Damn.”

  She smirked. “Yeah. And sure enough, every time I’d try to assert myself, tell her I had plans, she’d always get to me, and I’d feel bad for her and drop whatever I was doing to go help her, or hang out with her…and we’d be right back at square one. So after I graduated I moved up to Billings to work in a hospital there.”

  “And she didn’t follow you?”

  “Amazingly enough, no. She’d started coaching baby skaters by then, had a good thing going in Albuquerque, so she stayed put.”

  “So when did Justin happen?”

  She almost smiled. “Caught that, didja? My senior year of college. I’ll admit I was temporarily blinded by the idea of being married, and Justin’s a nice enough guy, but…” She shrugged. “I wasn’t ready. Fortunately I realized that before I made a huge mistake. I think Mama took it worse than Justin.”

  “So I gathered.”

  “Anyway, while I was in Billings I shared a house with a midwife who did home births and who’d apprenticed with Patrice several years ago—which is how I ended up back here—as well as with a recently divorced family therapist who was only too happy to let me babble to her in exchange for a decent meal.”

  She tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair, massaging her scalp where it had been. “I already knew how lopsided I’d let my life get, but she helped me see that it’s one thing to be giving, another thing entirely to give until the well runs dry without clue one how to fill it up again. Not to mention that because I’ve never actually been part of a balanced relationship? I have no idea how one goes about that.

  “So the consensus was I needed to do two things. One, continue to stay out of my mother’s way as much as possible, even if kills me, until she either learns to stand on her own two feet, which I’m not holding my breath about, or until I can be her daughter without being her lackey.”

  She held his gaze until Silas felt the weight of whatever she was about to say somehow shift to him.

  “And the other?”

  “Avoid romantic entanglements until I find that balance. Until I figure out how to make Jewel happy before I lose myself again by trying so hard to make somebody else happy. Only thing is, it’s been three years, and I don’t feel any closer to understanding what the heck any of that means than I did then.” She paused, then said softly, “Now do you get it?”

  Yeah. Right between the eyes. Not that her words surprised him. His reaction, though, threw him for a major loop. “That still doesn’t explain the act, though.”

  “Sure it does. Because I did learn something from observing my mother—that while some men find the giggly, helpless routine amusing, most don’t. And even those who do get tired of it pretty quickly.” Her shoulders hitched. “It’s a useful…tool.”

  “You act goofy on purpose to keep men at bay?”

  “The serious ones, anyway.”

  “Meaning guys who are serious in general, or ones who might be serious about you?”

  Another small shrug preceded, “Either. Both.”

  Silence thrummed between them.

  “And…which one was I?”

  She smiled. Sort of. “Oh, come on, Silas—it’s like using a seat belt—doesn’t mean you’re gonna get in an accident, just something you do automatically. In case.”

  He could have left it there, strangled in its seat belt metaphor. But he didn’t. Oh, no, just had to poke at it by saying, “Except now I know. That you’re pretending.”

  “Ah, but you also know why I was. So nothing’s changed, right? Come on, the last thing you need in your life is some chick with more issues than TIME Magazine. Far as I can tell, I’m as safe with you as I’d be with Santa Claus.”

  Depends on who’s wearing the Santa suit. “Can’t argue with that logic,” Silas said, feeling unaccountably grumpy. “However, there is one tiny glitch in your logic you may have overlooked.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Actually, two things. One, that being a giver isn’t a liability. Or a character flaw. Not as long as you give because you want to, and not because you’re trying to get something in return. And two,” he added before she could wedge in an objection, “I’m no more capable of looking the other way, of not lending a hand when it’s needed, than you are. For good or bad, it’s who I am. What I do. Which means if you think you have to handle this situation with Aaron all by yourself, you’re dead wrong.”

  “I see,” she said. Silas couldn’t tell if she was amused or pissed. Probably both. “And what if I don’t want your help?”

  “You’re outta luck. You want to find balance? First step is to let somebody else share the load. And if you don’t,” he said, standing, “you’ll have to answer to my mother. And I don’t think either one of us want that.”

  After another long moment Jewel cracked up laughing. Then—get this—she got up and wrapped her arms around his waist to give him a hug, before heading back to her room.

  Leaving Silas standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  And worse, what the hell came next.

  Jewel had barely walked into the kitchen the next morning when a knock at the back door scared the bejeebers out of her. God knew she was already jittery as all get-out on account of getting maybe a total of three hours sleep the night before, thanks to both her idiot brother and the even bigger idiot whose houseguest she was.

  Pressing her pounding heart back into place, she shoved aside the flimsy window curtain to see Aaron doing a rapid, stiff-handed wave, his grin all but hidden by the breath cloud masking his face.

  “Thanks for shaving five years off my life,” she said, barely getting out of his way as he shoved his way inside to dump his gear on the floor beside Doughboy’s water dish. “How on earth did you get here? One of us would’ve picked you up later.”

  Even though he was shivering like mad, Aaron went straight to the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice. “I’m about to starve. Besides, it was fricking freezing in that shop and the heater didn’t work. So I walked over here. What’s for breakfast?”

  “I’ll let you know once I’ve woken up. And for pity’s sake!” Jewel swiped the carton from him a split-second before the open spout reached his mouth. “That’s disgusting! Here.” She plunked a glass in front of him and poured juice into it. “Welcome to civilization—”

  “Aaron?” Silas said, shrugging into an old leather jacket as he came into the kitchen. “Did Jewel go get you…? Oh.” His gaze scraped her jammies and ratty robe. Her uncombed hair. Yeah, she was ready for her photo shoot, all righty. One side of his mouth tilted up and her stomach went flippity flop. “I’m guessing not.”

  How was it, she wondered, that two people could have a lengthy conversation about why nothing was going to happen between them—whether those actual words were used or not—only to have said conversation somehow turn and bite them both in the butt? At least, hers certainly had chomp marks on it. Whether Silas’s did or not, she couldn’t say. For sure.

  Then he did the gaze-scraping thing again, and she thought, Oh, for heaven’s sake—I look like hell on a bad day! Get over it! and as if he could read her mind his grin stretched a little farther, and she knew her sleepless night had not been without cause. What on earth had possessed her to admit she’d been playing the airhead on purpose to throw Silas off the scent? All that folderol about seat belts notwithstanding.

  “Pancakes okay with everybody?” she said, slamming the griddle onto the burner, making all parties present flinch, including the dog, which only seemed fair considering the state they’d put her in. Except for the dog.

  “Yeah, sure—”

  “Cool.”

  Because for hours she’d lain awake with one word scrolling across her brain like those dumb CNN headlines at the bottom of the TV screen: Why…why…. why…?

  Why had she blabbed like that? And
why to Silas? And why, why did Silas care? And why did she care, whether Silas cared or not?

  One seriously messed up chick to go, please.

  Deciding she’d clobber with the griddle the next person dumb enough to initiate early-morning banter, she got out pancake ingredients, made batter, slapped syrup and plates and flatware on the table, made pancakes, served pancakes, and drank copious amounts of coffee whilst glaring at the two males at the kitchen table. Who, it pained her to note, seemed either unaware of her grumpiness or were taking great pains to ignore it.

  Nothing worse than an unappreciated snit.

  Then, noticing the time, she went in to rouse Ollie. Not because she had to, but because small, sweet, sleepy boys—even groggy, grouchy ones—were far preferable to the big, heartbreaking, wide-awake ones currently yukking it up over her pancakes.

  Okay, they weren’t exactly yukking it up. In fact, the conversation sounded pretty darned serious. A conversation she should be having with her brother, not Silas. And would, as soon as she had a chance. And yet…

  “Go ’way,” Ollie now mumbled, burrowing farther underneath his covers. “I’m sleepy.”

  Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jewel curled herself around the little boy, gently tickling him through two inches of polyester fiber filling. “I know, sugar, but you have to get ready for school.”

  “Don’wannagotoschool.”

  “There’s pancakes.”

  One eye peeked over the comforter edge, underneath a fan of electrified blond hair. “With choc’late chips? And whipped cream?”

  “Only if you get to the table by the time…” She tapped her finger on the face of the digital clock by his bed. “The number on this side of the dots turns to ten.”

  “Pancakes?” Tad bellowed from across the room, his covers flying as he scrambled out of bed and charged across the hall to the bathroom.

  “Hey! Me, first!” Ollie said, stomping after him, where the boys held a brief battle for first toilet rights—Jewel did not want to know—before they torpedoed back to their respective dressers for clean clothes. Or, in Ollie’s case, the jumble of jeans, hoodies and T-shirts beside his bed—Silas’s single concession to messy, apparently. A second later Tad appeared in front of her, apparently no match for the buttons on his western-style shirt.