by Arlene James
It was actually fun, even though Punk—what an awful name for a little girl!—did her best not to enjoy herself. After Davy fell asleep in his lap and was tucked into bed, Jack decided to entertain himself in the only way that seemed open to him, since the other kids were in determined possession of the television. He made a quick trip out to the car, pulled his putter and a can of balls from the golf bag in the trunk and went inside again to set up a little putting green in the hallway with a piece of carpet and a plastic cup. The first time the ball made that distinctive rattle in the cup, Cody came to see what was going on. A discussion of the fine art of putting followed, and Jack found himself letting Cody try.
The putter was much too long for the boy, of course, but Jack tried to teach him the basics, anyway. When he looked up sometime later, it was to find Punk watching with wistful concentration. Expecting her to turn up her nose, Jack offered her the putter. To his surprise she not only took it, she allowed him to correct her stance and grip and guide her through the swing. To his utter amazement she not only sunk the first putt but the second and the third, as well. In fact, it seemed that as long as she stood in that exact same spot, she could sink those putts indefinitely. Jack studied her solemnly then said, “I think I’d better take you golfing.”
She studied him back, then finally nodded just once.
Jack called the store and informed a harried Heller of his plans. She thought he was insane but didn’t actually forbid him to take the kids out, as long as he waited until Davy woke up from his nap. There was a lengthy delay when Davy woke to a wet bed, Jack having failed to put plastic pants on him. Davy had to be bathed and changed, then the bed had to be stripped and the bedding washed in the bathtub. By the time he got the sheets and pads rinsed and got up off the floor, his knee was killing him. He ignored it, beyond swallowing some of Heller’s aspirin, and hustled the kids, a safety seat and a change of clothes for Davy into his car.
Cody and even Punk, though she struggled hard not to show it, were wildly appreciative of his car. It was the first “new one,” according to Cody, in which they’d ever ridden. Jack didn’t tell him that it was three years old, knowing that would point up the decrepitness of their mother’s twenty-plus model.
Jack put the car on the highway and headed toward Dallas. On the outskirts of Lewisville, they passed a popular fast-food place with a very visible sign. Davy gasped and immediately began struggling with his belts, babbling something Jack could not discern. Cody interpreted.
“He wants a kiddie meal. They got toys in them.”
Jack glanced at the dashboard and saw that it was nearing dinnertime. “You guys hungry?”
Even Punk admitted that she was. Jack exited the highway and doubled back.
Once inside the building, Jack mechanically ordered a super-deluxe burger and super fries for himself and three kiddie meals. Cody tugged on his elbow and answered his questioning glance with a solemn pronouncement.
“Punk and me don’t usually get kiddie meals.”
“Oh? How come?”
Cody glanced at the clerk and said uncomfortably, “They cost too much.”
Jack looked at the menu board and in moments calculated that the kiddie meal, in special container with toy, cost a grand total of sixty cents more than the burger, fries and cola sans container and toy. That came to a buck twenty. Had money ever been so dear for him as it was for Heller and her kids? He looked purposefully at the clerk, a pimply teenage boy, and said, “Oh, well, it’s too late now. It’s already been punched into the computer. Right?”
The teenager winked. “Right.”
Jack thought he heard a distinctly feminine gasp of delight, but when he looked down, Punk was staring disinterestedly out the window. Cody, however, curled his small hand gratefully around Jack’s larger one.
It took some doing to get Davy fitted into a high chair and then to pry away two of the three kiddie meals, which he had hugged to himself with gleeful toddler greed. Jack then found himself struggling to get food down youngsters more interested in playing with new toys, however cheap, than eating. Davy especially delighted in putting his toy on his head and then waggling it until the toy fell on the floor. Then he would whine until Jack returned it to him, only to repeat the process.
By the time they were back in the car, Jack was having second thoughts about this outing. But it was impossible to disappoint these kids, especially when they were already acting as though they’d just finished a tour of Disneyland. Punk’s scowl had even been temporarily displaced by a carefully blank expression that failed to obscure the gleam in her eyes.
That gleam intensified when, equipped with a putter just her size, Punk soundly beat Cody at a game of miniature golf. Jack gave up any thought of competing about the fifth time he chased down Davy and brought him back to the proper green. The sixth time, Jack threatened exasperatedly to tie the little stinker to him, at which point Cody informed him that Heller often did just that. Emboldened and desperate, Jack went to the attendant at the desk and inquired if he might have a length of soft, cotton cord. The attendant did him one better, producing an actual tether, complete with small, zippered harness. Jack was sheepishly relieved to know that he wasn’t the only adult who had this problem.
No sooner was Davy zipped into the harness, which was then clipped around Jack’s wrist, than the little tyrant decided he’d really rather ride on Jack’s foot than run around. The game then became one of trying to get a putt past Davy without it being grabbed or kicked astray. By the time they left the miniature golf park, Jack figured he could play the movie version of Frankenstein without rehearsal, he’d dragged his kid-laden leg around so long. His knee was throbbing intensely, but he felt a warm, glowing delight in the day. He didn’t have to wonder if the kids enjoyed themselves, either.
Even Punk, who hadn’t expressed one word of gratitude to him personally, gushed to her mother about her prowess with a golf club and went so far as to fail to sneer at him when he elaborated on her obvious gift for the game. Cody was positively beaming, and Davy, who went eagerly into his mother’s arms, babbled incessantly about “Yack” and proudly displayed his fast-food toy. All in all it had been a fine day, and as Jack watched Heller make herself an egg salad sandwich, he anticipated a fine evening. Heller was tired but smiling as she parked herself on the sofa next to him.
“You saved my life today.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
She cut him a narrow, smiling look. “Friends, hmm?”
He slid an arm around her shoulders, grinning down at her. “Maybe a little more than just friends.”
Punk got up off the floor at that and plopped down next to her mother. As if in support of Jack, Cody took a position next to him. Not to be outdone, Davy crawled up and sprawled across both Jack’s and Heller’s laps, babbling around the fingers that he constantly thrust into his mouth.
Heller shook her head, laughing, then slowly sobered. She laid her head back against his arm. “Well, we got through today,” she said. “What about tomorrow, though? I can’t let you sit my children every day, and I can’t afford to lose my job.”
“I have some ideas about that,” he told her. “I know some trustworthy young women who could be counted on to watch over things around here.”
“Oh, that’s great. I was going to put an ad in the newspaper, but this is better. I won’t have to worry about a babysitter who comes with your recommendation.”
“Hey, I think I’ve just been complimented,” he said, grinning.
Heller lifted her nose. “Don’t be silly. That wasn’t a compliment, just a statement of fact.”
“Yeah? Well, just how hard would you have to work to make a compliment out of it?”
Heller sighed dramatically. “Ask me later, when I’m not so tired.”
He laughed and stroked her arm lightly, more than merely complimented, when she laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder and settled in to stare at the television. Jack waited expectantly as
one by one the children dropped off to sleep.
“I think it’s bedtime,” he whispered delightedly, more than an hour later. He lifted his arm from about Heller’s shoulders and gently scooped up Davy’s utterly limp body, but as he slid to the edge of the seat in preparation for rising and looked back over his shoulder at Heller, it was to find her sleeping as soundly as exhaustion demanded. So much for his delightful evening.
Jack chuckled to himself as he quietly put Davy to bed, remembering the plastic pants this time, then gently roused the other children and urged them into pajamas and bed. Cody was the soul of cooperation, settling happily into the upper bunk of a rather rickety set of beds that Jack was determined to strengthen at first opportunity. Punk was glum but either too tired to protest when he tucked her in or actually warming up to him. He was almost afraid to think that it might be the latter, but he had hopes.
With the children down for the night, that only left Heller. After consideration, Jack decided to let her stay where she was. She roused slightly when he eased her down onto the sofa, mumbling something about the kids and school. He smoothed back her hair and lightly kissed her cheek, whispering, “The kids are fine, honey. Get some sleep.”
She sighed and folded her arms against her chest. He eased off her shoes, then found a lightweight blanket to spread over her. Going down on his haunches next to her, he ignored the pain in his knee and studied her face for a long while. Was this extraordinary woman his destiny? He hoped so, for he’d never known a more valiant, more determined, harder working female in his life, and something told him that if ever she allowed herself, she would love with all the ferocity of a lioness. He wanted to be loved like that. He wanted to make life better for her and her kids. More than anything else at the moment, however, he wanted to slip beneath that blanket with her and slowly awaken her body with his own. But he knew that the time was not right, so he contented himself with a kiss brushed across her tempting mouth.
She sighed and breathed out a single word. “Jack.”
His heart stopped, then took up a slow, heavy, almost painful throb. He heard himself whispering, “I love you,” and in that instant he knew that it was true. What would happen with them? Could she learn to trust again? Would she yield him her heart?
Questions without answers. And yet, he mused, if ever a man might find his destiny drawn and posted in crayon, it was Jackson Tyler. That thought in mind, he switched off the television and reluctantly left her, careful to lock the door behind him as he took himself off to a bed that somehow no longer felt like his own simply because she wasn’t in it.
* * *
Heller smiled at Mary Beth Kern and offered her hand to seal the deal. Mary Beth smiled back, pretty despite the braces and freckles, and shook Heller’s hand eagerly. “Thanks, Mrs. Moore. I’ll do a good job, I promise.”
“I’m sure you will,” Heller answered.
Mary Beth whirled, golden hair flying and swooped down on the kids. “Want to go outside and show me around the place? I bet we can make a neat fort out back!”
“Yeah!” Cody and Punk scrambled up, stuffed their bare feet into shoes discarded only minutes earlier and rushed to the door. Meanwhile Mary Beth coaxed Davy into her arms and propped him on her hip. When the door opened, however, and it became apparent that Mary Beth meant to take him outside, Davy balked.
“Yack! Yack!” he called, opening and closing his hands, arms stretched out toward his new favorite, who sat at the end of the dinner table.
Mary Beth carried him over, and Jack took him into his lap. “He likes you, Mr. Tyler,” Mary Beth observed.
“Yeah, we’re old buddies.” He tickled Davy’s tummy where his perpetually too-small T-shirts left it exposed. Davy collapsed back into Jack’s arms, giggling and flailing his arms and legs, his reaction entirely too jolly for the effort expended by Jack.
“Is it okay if he stays in here with you while the rest of us go out and play?” Mary Beth asked.
Jack patted Davy on the bottom. “Sure.”
But Davy suddenly suffered an attack of toddler’s capriciousness. Bawling, “On go! On go!” he flipped over and practically crawled up Jack’s chest, launching himself at Mary Beth. Everyone laughed as the tall teenager caught him and swung him onto her hip.
Heller snatched his sandals from the counter and thrust them at Mary Beth. “Better put these on him.”
“I’ll do it before I let him down,” she promised and herded her charges out the door.
Jack shook his head. “You’ll like her. I’m glad she was available.”
“So am I,” Heller said, leaning against the end of the counter, “especially since she’s willing to work for less than I was paying Betty.” She said nothing of how she was going to manage the evenings, since Mary Beth would not be sleeping over. Heller figured that she could bully her mother and Carmody into helping out until she could work out something else, though what that was going to be, she couldn’t imagine at present. She smiled to cover her concern and asked, “Want some tea? It’s cold.”
Jack shook his head, a slow heat in his eyes. He lifted an arm and hooked a finger in the empty belt loop of her jeans, tugging her forward to stand between his legs. Heller knew it was folly to tempt fate like this, but she couldn’t help putting her hands upon his shoulders and smiling down at him. He reached up with his other hand and clamped it around her nape, pulling her down until her mouth met his. Sighing, she let her eyes drift closed and rubbed her lips against his.
Chuckling, Jack wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto his lap. He crossed his legs, trapping her between them, and lifted a hand to stroke her hair. “We need to talk,” he said huskily.
Heller nodded, but as she slid her arms about his neck, her gaze fell to his mouth. “Later,” she whispered.
Jack groaned as he answered her invitation, grinding his open mouth against hers and filling its soft, sweet cavern with the restless sweep of his tongue. She pressed herself against him, feeling his hardness from thigh to breast. Oh, he enticed her so easily to this fine, hot madness. If she didn’t develop some resistance, she was going to find herself in a very untenable situation, the kind of situation that a woman of her experience and maturity could not justify.
Reluctantly she pushed away. He let her go just as reluctantly, his hands following to skim over a hip and up an arm. She backed up against the end of the counter and caught her breath. “I, um, have to change into work clothes.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Need any help?”
Laughter erupted. “If I did, I’d lie about it! You’re much too much a temptation.”
“Am I?” Pleased, he leaned the chair back on two legs, locked his hands behind his head and propped his crossed ankles on the corner of the table.
“Stars, I’m going to regret that,” she muttered.
He gave her a wolfish grin and wink. She threw up her hands, then escaped down the hall, laughing at the way her heart pounded at the promise in that wink. Lord, he made her want what she couldn’t have, and he didn’t even have to touch her to do it. She shook her head in wonder. Once she had believed that this was how it was meant to be, how it would always be between a man and a woman, but then experience had convinced her otherwise. She saw clearly what she had not wanted to admit even to herself: it had never been like this with Carmody.
Carmody had been a haven from the chaos and uncertainty of her parents’ home; not a safe haven, as it turned out. Eventually the situation became as chaotic and uncertain as the one she’d fled, but she had felt duty-bound to be the best wife she could be to him. How much easier that would have been if Carmody had lit this kind of fire in her. Suddenly she was asking herself if her tepid response to Carmody might have driven him to other women. If that were so, might she not trust Jack in this circumstance not to grow tired of her?
She pushed both thoughts away and pulled a newer, darker pair of jeans from her cramped closet. As she shimmied out of the old ones and into the newer
ones, she asked herself if Jack would find her so attractive if he could see the stretch marks on her belly and breasts. They were pretty mild, really, just a shiny pink line here and there. Still, Jack could surely have his pick of women—one more thought on which she did not want to dwell. She switched her attention to more immediate problems.
Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she reached for the receiver of the old rotary dial phone on her bedside table and laboriously spun out her mother’s number. Fortunately Fanny answered this time. Heller then spent several difficult minutes alternately pleading her case and biting her tongue as Fanny complained about the imposition and everything else that came to mind. Heller assured her mother that the imposition would be temporary and finally got off the phone by saying she was going to be late for work.
When she emerged from the bedroom, purse in hand, it was to find the kids piled up on the living room floor with Mary Beth, Davy standing at her back with both arms wrapped around her throat and jumping up and down with glee as she described a game they were to play. Jack looked on benignly, his elbows propped on his knees. He got up as Heller caught Mary Beth’s eye and gave her a little wave to indicate that she was leaving. Together they slipped out the door and down the steps. There they should have parted ways, but he took her by the elbow and walked her to her car, where he kissed her quickly and said, “See you later, hon.”
It never occurred to her that he meant that same night.
Chapter Nine
Jack hummed to himself as he climbed the stairs in the gathering dusk, limping slightly. He paused on the stoop, rapped once, then opened the door and went in. The living room was empty.
“Mary Beth? Kids?”
He heard a door open in the hallway. Shoes clacked on the linoleum, accompanied by a faint metallic jingling, and then the most astonishing woman appeared at the entrance to the living area. Jack felt his jaw beginning to drop and quickly clapped a hand over his mouth and pretended to clear his throat. The woman struck a kind of slouching pose, her hands—complete with purple press-on nails—were poised at the waist of a clingy purple dress, cinched in with a yellow belt at least five inches wide. That was about the length of the skirt, too. The dress also featured a plunging neckline and tight sleeves that ended just below the elbow. On her arms she wore heavy, gold bracelets, fitted with dozens of jingling charms. Her bleached blond hair was pinned on top of her head in piles of stiff, frizzy curls, exposing clumps of charms dangling from her ear lobes almost to her shoulders. She wore purple and yellow shadow on the loose lids of bloodshot eyes, which matched her bloodred lipstick all too well. And on her feet were purple shoes—which unfortunately were not a good match with the dress or the eye shadow—with ankle straps and stiletto heels at least six inches high. It was a miracle that she could stand up in them, let alone walk.
