by Judi Lynn
“That’s not good. Who does he think will take care of him when you leave?”
“His kids who come home to rescue him and inherit all of his money.”
“Like that’s going to happen. I guess I feel a little sorry for him. It sucks to get old and have to depend on people when you’ve never had to.”
Brad shook his head, nodding toward Keagan. “This guy’s too much of a softy. He can be had with a sad story.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Karli had gotten the impression people could only push Keagan so far.
Brad thought about his answer. “Sometimes, he should put himself first. He’s happy staying in the background.”
Keagan chuckled. “I don’t have a choice when I’m with you. When we’re around women, I might as well be invisible.”
Brad reached for another sandwich. “Well, I wasn’t talking about the ladies, but really, you don’t even try. They come to our table because I flirt with them. You don’t make an effort.”
Keagan shrugged, unconcerned. “I want to get my studio up and going first. I’m not ready for women.”
Not what she wanted to hear. Karli raised an eyebrow. He’d better get ready, because she had him in her crosshairs, but it was going to take more work than she’d expected. She gathered their empty plates—his plates, the ones he’d made. She motioned to them. “I love these. I wanted to use them for lunch, but there are only four of them. How many patterns do you make?”
“I try to do something new for each season, painted any way the customer wants. You should come to the studio on my parents’ farm. I can show you my lines.”
Just herself and Keagan? “I’d love that.”
Keagan finished his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’d better finish up. We’re almost done. Once the sun gets a little lower, it gets damn chilly. Thanks for the food.”
They climbed back up their ladders and half an hour later came to say goodbye to her. She walked out to see the finished work and smiled. She’d expected bare wood, but the men had painted it and all of the other columns so they matched. “The house looks sturdy again—neglected but solid.”
“It’s a good house.” Keagan’s voice sounded wistful. “I always think it’s sad to see a good house left to die.”
“Die?” Brad laughed at him, but Karli nodded agreement.
“A house is more than wood and nails on a foundation. It shelters people, becomes a home.”
Keagan locked gazes with her. “That’s how I feel.”
Brad laughed at both of them, then started to his pickup. “Gotta go. I’m meeting some people at Chase’s tonight. Wanna come, K?”
Keagan gestured across Axel’s dry, weedy field. “Mom invited me for supper tonight, since I’d be so close.”
“You had a choice,” Brad called. “You could hit Chase’s with me.”
“Maybe next week.”
“Yeah, right, you’ll probably hole up in your studio.” Brad pulled away.
With a wave, Keagan climbed in his SUV and left, too.
Karli had enjoyed their company. She grimaced as she walked back into the house. She got to spend Saturday night with Axel. Woo-hoo! She took a deep breath. So far, she’d struck out on everything she’d tried with the old man. Maybe she was going about things wrong.
She went out to the sun porch to straighten his TV tray and asked, “Can you drive?” She’d seen an oversized gray pickup in his garage.
Axel gave her a look. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. But if you don’t want people in your house, maybe you should go to them.”
Axel turned back to his TV show. “Doesn’t matter. Can’t drive, and I’m not paying.”
Back to square one. “Then we haven’t made any progress.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve been eating high on the hog.”
If looks could kill . . . She took a deep breath. How could she make him understand? “I didn’t come here to pamper you. I’m a nurse, but I’m not your nurse. I came to help you find a nursing home or get you live-in care.”
“No worries. You’re doing that, missy. You just being here will bring some of the others, and then they can knock themselves out, trying to win my favor.”
The old man just didn’t get it. She put a hand on his forehead and shook her head. “Nope, no fever. You’re not delirious, just deluded.”
He sniffed and turned away. “Just you wait and see. They’ll be here.”
As she carried his things to the kitchen and began putting them away, she slammed doors a little harder than needed. But if any of his kids were like him, the old fool might be right.
Chapter 11
On Sundays, Keagan went to his parents’ house for their big meal. Last night, his dad had tossed hamburgers on the grill, and it had been just him and his mom and dad. He’d been glad they kept it simple, because he’d eaten two helpings of chicken-fried steak and four of the small ham sandwiches Karli had made for them.
On Sunday, his sister and her family were there, too. He gave a quick knock before walking into the long living room. It was empty, but the TV blasted Dora the Explorer. Marcia’s kids must have claimed it while the adults did their own thing. He heard voices in the kitchen, then decided to walk through the dining room to the kitchen at the back of the house. Sometimes, the two women went crazy and cooked enough food for an army. Today, thankfully, he saw a pot of soup on the stove and cornbread cooling on the counter. Marcia saw him and came to wrap him in a hug. “Hey, bro.”
His mom turned from rinsing a pan. “Not sure why, but I get hungry for soups when the evenings get chilly.”
“Where are the kids?” Keagan didn’t see any sign of the two rowdies Marcia called hers, but the minute they heard his voice, they came roaring up from the basement. Jenna attached herself to his left leg, and Jack took the right. He walked back and forth with them, and they giggled when he pretended to try to shake them off.
Marcia rolled her eyes. “Stuart roughhoused with them before we came this morning, and they still haven’t settled down. Then they went down in the family room to play foosball. They’re all wound up.”
Keagan smiled. He and Marcia had spent plenty of time in the family room in the basement when they were growing up. He grabbed each kid by the back of their sweatshirts and lifted them into the air, swinging them to and fro. Screams and laughter filled the kitchen, and his mom smiled at him. “It’s time all of you headed to the dining room so we can eat.”
Keagan let out a long sigh. “I probably don’t have time to get anything out of my SUV then.”
Marcia gave him a wary look. “It’s nothing that makes noise like that awful Halloween telephone you bought them, is it? The howls and cackles about made me nuts.”
He smiled. He’d done better than he’d thought if he could irritate his sister and entertain the kids with one present. “No noises come out of this one.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s a cagey answer.”
“I know.” He went to his vehicle and returned with a long box. While the women carried things to the table, the kids ripped it open, and he used his dad’s air pump to blow up the giant turkey that served as a punching toy.
Marcia laughed. “Maybe they’ll hit that instead of each other.”
“Fat chance. They’ll just learn to punch better.” At four, Keagan thought they had pretty solid form.
His mom carried the big soup pot to the table. “It’s time. Come and get it.”
Stuart and his dad wandered in from wherever they’d disappeared to, and everyone took their seats at the table. His dad bowed his head and said a quick prayer before Mom started passing the food. Keagan snagged a big piece of cornbread, then handed his dad his soup bowl to fill. When the salad made it to him, he loaded his plate and drizzled it with honey mustard dressing.
> Marcia fussed with the kids’ plates before serving herself. She looked prettier than usual today in a pink sweater that showed off an interesting necklace. Keagan nodded toward it and said, “That’s an eye-catching piece. I like it.”
His sister broke into a huge smile. “I made it. Lefty Morgan asked me to sell some of my pieces on consignment in his jewelry shop.”
Keagan nodded, impressed. Lefty used to strike him as a shifty name until his mom explained that he’d gotten it in school because he was left-handed. “Lefty mails a lot of jewelry to customers. I’m always picking up orders to deliver at his shop, a lot of them from out-of-state.”
Stuart beamed at his wife. “Lefty wants to have more variety. He sells plenty of his silver and gold jewelry and class rings.” He held up his right hand to display the ring he’d gotten when he became an Eagle Scout. “He’d like to have more fun pieces like Marcia’s, made from polymer or polished stones.”
Keagan was happy for her. She might not have made it to Chicago after art school to design jewelry, but now she could do it in Mill Pond. Before she met Stuart, who loved farming, she’d always talked about moving to a big city and hitting it big. After she married him, they’d built a house close to Mom and Dad’s and helped them work the fields. Even then, Marcia still designed jewelry for local craft shows and sold a lot in Indy, but then she had the twins. No more jewelry. To Keagan, it looked like no more dreams.
Keagan swore that would never happen to him. Not a second time. When he’d been with Cecily, she’d demanded most of his time, craved attention. Pouted and fussed when he spent time in the studio. She constantly wanted to be doing something. It had been a struggle to get any pottery done. When she’d met Ryan, he was happy to work alongside her every day and then take her out every night. Keagan couldn’t compete with that.
After she left and he got over her, he discovered he was happy delivering mail and selling his dinnerware. He never wanted to be joined at the hip with a woman ever again. He grinned at his sister. Her personal passion had been put on hold, but she was back at it again. “Way to go, sis.”
He looked at his dad. “What have you been up to? Are you and Stuart done for the year?”
“If the weather holds, we’re going to plow the back fields, get them ready for spring. We’ll probably start on them tomorrow.”
“A head start is always nice.” He grinned at his mom. “Are you done canning and freezing for the year?” She was a paralegal and worked for a lawyer in town, but she always took off work to put up pint and quart jars for the year.
“I took off two days next week. I have more eggs than I’ll ever use, so Marcia and I are making and freezing egg noodles.”
His parents raised chickens, and even though they shared the eggs with Marcia and her family, his dad got tired of eggs for breakfast once in a while. Sometimes that meant a flurry of lemon meringue pies, pavlova, or custards. Noodles were always good. If Keagan got lucky and his mom decided to make chicken ‘n noodles, she’d send him a quart to heat up for supper.
Adult conversation ended when they finished their meal and the kids were excused from the table. Squeals ensued while Jack chased Jenna around the table. Keagan pitched in with clean-up, and then he went to watch football with his dad and Stuart while his mom and sister came and went. The kids disappeared into the basement with their blow-up punching bag.
When it was time for him to leave, his mom handed him a bowl of leftovers to deliver to Karli and Axel. Keagan frowned. “I used to get the leftovers.”
“Buck up, buttercup!” his sister teased. “This way, if Karli doesn’t want to cook lunch for the curmudgeon, she doesn’t have to.”
He knew better than to complain. He took the leftovers and drove home to the house he and Brad rented. Soon, he thought, he’d have a place of his own. A studio of his own. He couldn’t wait.
Chapter 12
Karli slept in on Sunday. When she finally got up, she pulled on her robe and wandered to the kitchen, flipping on lights as she went. It was a gray, dreary day.
“Do you know what my electric bill will be next month?” Axel called from the sun-room.
“Shut it! Do you know how much free food you’ve gotten? It balances out.” She’d set the coffeepot last night, so poured herself a cup, took a long sip, then poured a cup to take to Axel.
“’Bout time you got your ass out of bed. I’m starving.”
She shrugged. “There’s still cottage cheese and Ensure in the refrigerator and plenty of leftovers. Roll yourself out there like you used to.”
He pouted. “Aren’t you gonna fix something for breakfast?”
“When I damn well feel like it.”
He looked out the long bank of windows. “Crappy day today. Good thing it’s football Sunday.”
“If you were a smart man, you’d get up once a day and exercise a little. Muscles are for moving. If you don’t use them, you lose them.”
He gave her an odd look. “Doesn’t really matter to me. What does it matter to you?”
She sighed. “Some people only think about quantity of life, but I’m a nurse. Quality matters, too. I’d like you to stay healthy enough to enjoy whatever days you have left.”
“You don’t want me to drop over and get the hell out of your hair?”
She grinned. “Where would the fun in that be?”
He laughed, caught off guard. “Good, then feed me.”
“Nah, I believe in tough love. Get in your wheelchair and move a little.”
He studied her. “You’re not all that tough. I can wait till you’re ready to cook.”
He was in an odd mood this morning. She nodded and motioned to his coffee cup. “It’s getting cold. Drink it while it’s hot.” She returned to the kitchen and stared out the window over the sink. Gloomy, gloomy day. Dead fields stretched far into the distance, and she could see a big, white house with a red barn and a few outbuildings as tiny dots before more fields stretched out of sight. Keagan’s parents’ house? He went there most Sundays, didn’t he? She glanced at the clock. Too early for him yet. She wondered what he was like around his mom and dad, his family.
Family. She thought about her mom and dad in Indianapolis, and opened the cupboards to pull out the ingredients to make pancakes. Her mom made them every Sunday when she was growing up. When she carried a stack of them, drizzled with maple syrup, in for Axel, he actually licked his lips.
“My mom used to make these every Sunday.”
“So did my mom.” She frowned. “You always talk about your mom, never your wife. With twelve kids, didn’t Eloise cook a lot?”
“She made toast every morning. That woman didn’t cook any more than she had to. Didn’t like it.” He grimaced. “Not sure she liked anything. Mom loved cooking, loved working in her gardens and flower beds. Loved sewing.” His eyes lit up when he talked about his mother. “She loved this house, and then she went and died way too early.”
Karli could almost feel his pain. “Mom said your dad was a nice grandparent. He was loving, wasn’t he?”
“He was okay. Weak. When Mom died, he did what needed done, like Eloise, and that was about it.” He finished his pancakes and ran his finger over the empty plate to lick off more syrup. “Whoever said that people marry their parents knew what he was talking about. I ended up with a woman just like my dad.”
Karli pursed her lips. Was Keagan like one of her parents? Was that why she was so attracted to him? Her mom was warm and lively, her dad easygoing and steady. Hmm, if Keagan had some of her dad’s virtues, that wasn’t a bad thing. She asked the first question that came to her mind. “If Eloise didn’t make you happy, why have twelve kids with her?”
“The woman loved sex.” When Karli almost choked with surprise, he shook his head. “Once I had four kids with her, it’s not like I could kick her out. How the hell could I farm and care for them? I figu
red I was stuck and might as well make the best of it.”
“But you knew she was lazy. Why not spend more time with the kids when you could?”
“I can’t stand kids. They’re whiny and always want something.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Then you were as bad as Eloise.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
Damn, he was annoying! She took a deep breath, grabbed his plate, and started to the kitchen. She called over her shoulder, “I’m driving to Bloomington today. I want to do a little shopping, and everything closes in Mill Pond on Sundays.”
“Good, you’ll be out of my hair while the big football game’s on this afternoon. Just leave me a bottle of Ensure.”
He was a pain in the ass, so why did he get to her? On top of that, this house was just plain depressing. While she washed up, she decided to go to a home improvement store and buy paint for each room downstairs. If the townsmen were willing to fix the outside of the house, why couldn’t she make the inside look a little better?
Okay, that wasn’t her most brilliant thought. Paint wasn’t cheap, and she didn’t plan on staying here much longer, but she’d go crazy if she didn’t have something to do. Why not paint? She’d give Axel an ultimatum and then call health care services, tell them what she’d done and why it hadn’t worked, and then let them decide what to do, but she didn’t want to be blamed for neglecting Axel.
Was that the only reason?
She thought back to Keagan saying that he hated to see a good house die. She liked this house. It was warm and inviting, even when Axel wasn’t. It deserved better.
Lord, she was losing it! Since when did she care about cooking and cleaning? But the sad truth was that she did care. Was she just playing house? Playing make-believe? Not her style. For some reason, though, right now, it made her happy to be in this house, so she was going to go with it.
On the ride to Bloomington, the road curved and dipped, full of beautiful scenery. She found a complex on the outskirts of the city with a home improvement store and headed straight to its paint aisles. She chose a soft rose color for the parlor, a rich cream for the dining room and living room, and robin-egg blue for the kitchen. She bought a ladder, paint brushes, and rollers, and lots of edging tape. Then she found all kinds of safer grip handles that Axel could use.
