by Arlene James
The room went dead silent. Davy peeked out between his fingers. Heller closed her mouth, embarrassed again, and both Cody and Punk slumped in their chairs. Jack cleared his throat, picked up his knife and fork and muttered, “Eat your dinner.”
The muted clinks and clatters of civilized dining replaced the chaos. Heller cleaned Davy’s hands and began feeding him herself. Could anything else go wrong? she wondered. It’d be a miracle if Jack ever came back after this—but then she’d said that before. And she was supposed to want him to stay away. Only she didn’t. So naturally this time he probably would. That would make Punk deliriously happy, make Cody very sad, and break her heart. Blast! Was there no winning? Jack’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
“Uh, Heller…”
She turned away from Davy, spoon suspended in midair. “What?”
He merely inclined his head in Davy’s direction. Heller looked back to her youngest son. He was chewing energetically, his eyes switching back and forth between her and Jack, his cheeks puffed up like a little chipmunk’s with the excess of food she’d blindly poked into his mouth. She dropped the spoon.
“Oh, for—” She grabbed up a napkin, intending to make him spit into it, but Jack caught her hand and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Davy seemed to catch every nuance of the byplay, and while she watched, he grew from a big baby into a little boy, his little jaws working like jackhammers until finally, he gulped, sighed and grinned—at Jack. Jack grinned back, winked and reached across Heller to ruffle Davy’s curly hair. Davy beamed, leaned across the tray of his high chair for the spoon that Heller had dropped on the table and began to eat with all the dexterity of a four-year-old. Jack chuckled and tucked into his own dinner. Every so often, he would glance at Davy, who’d smile and keep eating as if some silent communication known only to the two of them had been passed.
Cody watched the interaction between his brother and his principal with bald hope, while Punk first stared, then returned to her glare, but not, Heller noted, before something very like jealousy flashed over her face. Suddenly Heller understood that her beautiful, prickly little girl was as afraid of opening her heart to Jackson Tyler as Heller herself, as afraid and as desirous. She wanted to like him; she just didn’t want to be hurt again by a man who almost seemed too good to be true. Almost, but not quite.
Heller thought of what had happened between them the last time they’d been together: how he’d stripped her to the waist and reduced her to a puddle of jelly before she’d even realized what was happening; how he’d smiled at her as if utterly delighted when she’d announced that she would not sleep with him; the way he’d pressed her for this dinner date and disavowed any concern for the gossips or his reputation or anything but her. No, he wasn’t perfect. He was flawed in exactly the right ways. Her heart sped up, and for the first time she felt real hope. But that was a dangerous emotion and one she meant to crush—as soon as she figured out how.
The remainder of the evening passed without incident, or at least without making any incident seem larger than it actually was. Jack insisted on helping her cleanup, so the two of them bumped around in the kitchen while the kids pretended to watch television instead of them.
Afterward, he decided to go. Cody and Davy came to say goodbye, Cody receiving a pat on the back that plastered him to Jack’s side. Davy demanded to be picked up, jabbering as if Jack just naturally understood every unintelligible word, while his fingers explored Jack’s mustache. Apparently satisfied, he kissed Jack on the nose and allowed himself to be put down. Jack bade Punk a polite farewell and contented himself with an answering grunt before turning to Heller. She’d been wondering if he was going to kiss her, but even when he slipped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close she didn’t know for sure. Only when his mouth briefly pressed to hers did she have her answer, and then he was thanking her and slipping through the door, promising to see her again soon.
She closed the door behind him and turned to her family with a smile. Davy ran around the room in circles, jabbering to himself, before finally bolting down the hall. Cody beamed her a delighted smile and went after his brother. Heller chuckled to herself. Maybe this could work after all. Stranger things had happened. Punk was quick to burst her bubble.
“Well, I think he’s a pain,” she announced smartly. Heller tried not to snap. “You made that abundantly clear.”
Punk seemed determined to push her, though. She leaned back on the sofa and fixed Heller with narrow, knowing eyes. “If you just gotta have a man to kiss you,” she accused, “why don’t you let Daddy come back home?”
Heller’s temper flared. She heard herself saying, “Carmody’s no man. He’s a boy, and he always will be.”
Punk looked, for an instant, as if she’d been slugged. Heller’s stomach turned over. Contrition flooded her. She plopped down on the couch next to Punk.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Sullen, Punk hunched a shoulder in dismissal. Heller picked her next words carefully.
“It isn’t about kissing, Punk. It’s about sharing and caring and, most of all, trust.”
“Daddy trusts you!” she said, swiping tellingly at her face.
“Maybe,” Heller said. “He trusts me to take care of you and the boys, I think. But there’s a deeper kind of trust, Punk, where you trust someone not to hurt you, and neither Carmody nor I can do that with each other.”
“Why?”
Heller sighed. “That’s a private matter between your father and me.”
“’Cause he went with those other women?” Punk asked astutely.
A chill shivered through Heller. “Yes. Because of those other women.”
“Don’t you think old Mr. Tyler would do that, too?”
Heller shook her head, determined suddenly that her daughter understand the importance of fidelity. “Not every man cheats on his wife, Punk. Don’t you ever let yourself believe that. Every wife—and every husband, for that matter—has the right to expect loyalty. Without that there can be no trust, and without trust you can’t have love, Punk.”
“Do you love Mr. Tyler?” Punk asked, her chin wobbling.
Heller felt her heart drop again. “I—I don’t know for sure, Punk. I think I might, if he…That is, I think Jack’s still trying to find out how he feels about me and what that means to him.”
“Are you gonna get married if he asks you?” Punk pressed, frowning.
Heller caught her breath. “I—I…N-no one’s talking about marriage, Punk! Goodness, I’d just like to be able to get through an evening together without everybody screaming at each other.”
Punk sighed and propped her head on her fist, her elbow digging into the sofa cushion. “I don’t want to yell,” she muttered. “It just happens.”
Heller looked at her daughter with a kind of hopeless compassion. “I know, honey. I have that problem myself sometimes. But it’s important to try.”
Punk nodded without enthusiasm and slid off the couch to the floor. Falling on her stomach, she propped her chin up in front of the television and reached for the remote control, effectively dismissing both the subject and her mother. Heller let her, simply because she didn’t know what else to do or say. Why, she wondered, her hope extinguished, couldn’t anything ever be simple?
Chapter Eight
Jack’s smile faded as he viewed the clerk behind the counter. He was absolutely certain that Heller was supposed to be working now. He felt a prickle of unease. Something was wrong. Heller didn’t miss work unless something was wrong; she simply couldn’t afford to. He took a long look at the short, wiry, cigar-chomping, fiftyish man in her place and decided that he seemed unlikely to give out information on demand. He seemed unlikely, in fact, to be polite.
After a moment’s consideration, Jack decided that it would be best to ask any questions casually. To that end he took a can of iced tea from the walk-in cooler and got in line behind an old woman buying paper plates, and two litt
le girls trying to come up with enough coins to pay for a loaf of bread and two pieces of candy.
The cigar man rubbed a stubby hand missing two fingers over his bristly white hair and grimaced around the soggy butt clamped between yellow teeth. “Have you got the money or haven’t you?” he demanded of the girls. One of them sent a trembling, doe-eyed look at him and continued searching her pockets. Pleasant fellow, Jack thought wryly. Fishing a quarter from his pocket, he stepped forward and placed it on the counter. The little girl with the doe eyes looked up, flashed him a smile of recognition and giggled thanks. Jack was unsure of the child’s identity, but she was definitely familiar. He winked and stepped back into place.
The man behind the counter scooped up the coins, counted out six cents change and slapped it down out of the child’s reach, apparently intending it for Jack. The girls hurried out of the store, their purchases clutched in sweaty hands. Jack mused that the least the man could have done was give them a paper sack, but he kept that opinion to himself.
The elderly lady in front of him offered to let him go first, evidently in appreciation of his generosity to the girls, but he smiled and shook his head, then popped the top on the tea and slugged back half of it while she paid for the paper plates and the man with the cigar glared at him. To buy himself a few moments conversation, as well as to irritate the curmudgeon, Jack paid for his tea with a twenty-dollar bill. The guy shot him a glare, picked up the six cents and threw it back into the cash register before painstakingly counting out change for the twenty. Jack leaned a hip against the counter and guzzled tea.
“So where’s Heller today?” he asked in what he hoped was an offhand manner.
The cigar shifted from one corner of a frown to another. “Don’t never hire a woman with kids,” he grumbled. “It’s always something.”
“And what was it this time?” Jack probed, fighting back a spurt of alarm with a chuckle.
“Damned baby-sitter run off, she says.” He waved that three-fingered hand dismissively. “But if it wasn’t that, it’d be something else.”
Betty. Well, well. Jack sipped more tea. “I thought Heller was pretty dependable. A woman in her position can’t usually afford to miss work.”
“Yeah, well. She don’t come to work tomorrow, I’m gonna have to replace her.” The man plucked the cigar from between his teeth, grimaced and stuck it back. “I can’t stand catering to these cruds around here.”
So the bad-tempered man was Heller’s boss. Good grief, was there any indignity or irritation that poor woman didn’t have to endure? Jack finished the tea, crushed the can and tossed it into the trash bin on the other side of the counter, saying, “I’m sure she’ll work something out.”
“She better,” the fellow grumbled as Jack scooped up his change, stuffed it into his pocket and left the place.
“Well, hello.” Heller stepped back and allowed Jack entrance into her home, Davy perched heavily on her hip.
He smiled, ruffled Davy’s hair and dropped a feather-light kiss on her cheek. “What’s this I hear about Betty running away?”
Heller rolled her eyes. “That goose has taken a powder with her best friend’s husband! Can you believe it?”
“You mean, she was the other woman?”
“Evidently.”
“Holy cow.”
“Meanwhile, I’m left high and dry.”
Jack chuckled and spread his arms. “What does that make me then?” Davy apparently took his stance as an invitation and, holding out his own arms, lunged at Jack. “Whoa!” Surprised, Jack scooped him up and brought him against his chest.
Heller laughed and wrinkled her nose in astonishment at her son. “You fickle thing. All morning long you’ve been stuck to me like skin, then as soon as a better ride comes along, you abandon me!”
Jack loosened his hold on Davy somewhat and made an obvious effort to relax. Davy pulled a wet finger from his mouth and stroked Jack’s mustache with the intense concentration of an entranced scholar. Heller shook her head. “Well, you’ve worked your magic on him,” she told Jack wryly.
He grinned. “Good. Then we’ll get along just fine while you’re gone.”
She cocked her head. “Gone?”
He shifted Davy to his side, holding him safely with one arm. “I went to the store before coming here.”
“I assumed that.”
“Pleasant fellow, your boss.”
She smirked and folded her arms, striking a doubtful pose. “Yeah, right, and crocodiles make good house pets. What’d Mac say to you?”
Jack settled a compassionate look on her. “He said that if you didn’t come in to work by tomorrow, he’d fire you and hire someone else.”
She put both hands in her hair. “He must not have found anyone to fill in for me. Blast! He hates working the counter.”
“I noticed.”
“I have to find Mother!” She whirled away, grabbing the phone mounted on the wall above the counter that divided the kitchen area from the living area. Agitatedly she punched in a series of numbers and waited, her fingertips drumming on the countertop. Finally she slammed the receiver back into its cradle and gave an inarticulate cry of sheer frustration. “Where is that woman? She never leaves her house before two. She doesn’t even get out of bed before noon!” She smacked the countertop with the butt of her fist.
“Hey.” Jack carried Davy over to her, positioned himself just so, and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “She’ll show up eventually.”
“But I need her now!” Heller insisted.
His arm tightened. “It’s okay, honey.”
Her anger receded in a flood of warmth that came with the sound of concern in his voice. “You’re right,” she agreed, succumbing to the temptation to lay her head against the hollow of his shoulder. “McCarty will just have to wait. Surely I’ll find her before tomorrow.”
“Frankly,” Jack said, “I don’t see the need for either one. I’ll stay with the kids. You go on to work.”
She straightened and looked up into his face. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Might make McCarty think twice next time there’s a crisis. At least he’ll know you won’t take advantage.”
“But I would be,” she said. “I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“No way. Look, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
“Yeah, right, as if baby-sitting someone else’s kids was just what you had in mind for the day.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, removing his arm from about her shoulders in order to tickle Davy’s belly where it peeked out from beneath a too-small T-shirt. Davy clapped his hands over the spot and giggled. Jack smiled. “But it could be fun.”
Heller shook her head and reached for Davy. “No, really, I can’t let you do that.” To her surprise, both Davy and Jack pulled back, Davy snuggling possessively against Jack’s chest, one little arm curling around his neck. Heller’s mouth fell open in surprise. Then she narrowed her eyes at her son. “Traitor.”
Davy grinned around a trio of fingers and said, “Yack ickel muh.”
Heller poked a finger playfully at his tummy and said, “Well, Mommy tickles you, too.”
He grinned but pushed her hand away and laid his head against Jack’s chest again. “Yack,” he insisted firmly.
Jack chuckled, and at the sound rumbling up from deep in his chest Davy raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’ve got this one in my corner.”
“Don’t forget Cody,” she muttered, remembering how her oldest son had actually suggested that perhaps she ought to call Jack, when they’d realized what Betty had done.
Jack patted Davy’s back and said wistfully, “Now if I can just get your daughter to like me.”
“Good luck,” she told him ruefully.
Jack reached out to smooth the fall of her hair. “Maybe this time on our own will help.”
She wrinkled her nose, thinking that he knew all too well how to get around her. He apparently took the expression for disap
proval.
“On the other hand, if you don’t trust me…”
“It’s not that!”
“Maybe you’d just rather leave your mother with them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Actually,” she admitted, “I don’t like to leave them with my mother at all. You’re by far the more responsible sitter.”
“Well, then?”
She looked at Davy snuggled against his chest, sighed and capitulated. “It’ll only be until nine. I’ve managed to cover myself at the nursing home this evening.”
He smiled and slowly bent toward her, bringing his face close to hers and saying, “Great. Then we’ll have the evening to ourselves.” He kissed her lingeringly on the mouth. Davy babbled something about “Yack ickeling Mommy” and then closed his pudgy little hand in Heller’s hair, pulling until she tilted her head back.
“Ow! Jealous little monster.” She lifted the hem of his T-shirt and kissed him noisily on the belly, while Jack gently pried his fingers free of her hair. “I’ve gotta get going,” she said, once free. Then she turned to hurry toward her bedroom and plowed straight into Cody and Punk.
Cody was beaming, an excited, hopeful glint in his eye, while Punk maintained her usual scowl. Heller knew in an instant that they’d both witnessed that kiss, and to her surprise she felt her cheeks begin to burn. A quick glance in Jack’s direction showed that he had carefully composed his own expression into one of unconcern. For once, she decided, she was going to let him handle the repercussions.
She dropped quick kisses on her son’s light brown head and her daughter’s light blond one, then announced, “I’ve got to go in to work, after all, kids. Jack’s going to stay with you, but I’ll be home early. You be on your best behavior.”
Cody agreed brightly. Punk scowled. Heller beat a hasty retreat, changed her shorts for jeans and was out the door before she could think twice about leaving Jack to the mercies of her two obviously adoring sons and her glaringly hostile daughter. She reflected guiltily that she hoped Jack had sense enough to keep the knives out of reach. Otherwise he’d need stitches before she got back.
