By the time the pizza arrived, Mat had disappeared. She found him outside with his head under Mabel's hood. He grunted that he would eat later. She suspected he needed some time alone, and she was more than happy to give it to him.
After dinner, Nealy scrubbed the tub, undressed the baby, and set her in the water. She gave a gleeful shriek, then began splashing with the plastic measuring cups Nealy'd brought up from the kitchen.
“You certainly do know how to have a good time,” she said with a laugh.
“Da!”
She turned and saw Mat standing in the door. His arms were crossed and one shoulder pressed against the jamb. “I'll take over,” he said wearily. “I didn't mean to stick you with her.”
“I don't feel stuck.” Her words sounded sharper than she'd intended, but she was angry with him. Angry with him for not being the man she wanted him to be—a homebody who would hold on to these girls.
She knew she was being unfair. Mat hadn't asked for any of this to happen, and it said a lot for his character that he had gone to so much effort on their behalf. But she was still angry with him.
Button slapped both arms into the water and sent up a tidal wave to impress him.
“I just saw Lucy heading downstairs carrying a portable television,” he said. “1 hope I don't have to worry about pawnshops again.”
“Where was she taking it?” She did her best to wash one of Button's ears, but it was a catch-as-catch-can proposition.
“To the motor home. She said she and Button weren't going to stay in the guest room no matter what you said.”
Nealy sighed. “There's a double bed with one side against the wall so Button couldn't roll out. I thought it would be a good place for them. Obviously Lucy didn't agree.”
“Lucy's a brat.”
The pizza must have revived the teenager's fighting spirit because Nealy would bet anything that she was matchmaking again—making certain Nealy and Mat were going to be alone in the house.
Squid followed Mat into the bathroom and plopped on the tile near the tub. Button shrieked and sent up a splash to welcome him. The dog regarded her balefully, then mustered the energy to crawl beneath the sink where the undertow wouldn't get him.
“That's the most pathetic excuse for a dog I've ever seen.”
“On the positive side, I made Lucy take him outside and give him a bath, so at least he doesn't smell anymore. And he certainly has a healthy appetite.”
“Three different neighbors came over to introduce themselves while I was moving the motor home into the driveway. It's a good thing you're keeping that damn padding on.”
“People are naturally friendly in the Midwest.”
“Too friendly.” He picked up the rag Lucy'd used to scrub the tub and began swabbing the water Button had splashed on the floor. “I don't know about you, but I've had more than enough of driving around in that motor home, so I reserved a rental car. We can pick it up tomorrow morning.”
She wanted to ask him what he was going to do about the girls, but Button had lost interest in her bath, and she wanted to get her settled first. “I'll finish up here.”
While Mat got Button's bottle ready, Nealy dried her off and dressed her in a clean pair of cotton pajamas. Then she carried both Button and the bottle out to the motor home to turn over to Lucy.
When she returned, she found Mat sitting on the back step with a cup of coffee and Squid curled at his feet. She eased down next to him and gazed at the quiet backyard. Fireflies flickered above the peony bushes, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle drifted in the air. Through the back window of a neighbor's house, she caught the glow of a television set. She wanted to drink it all in so she'd never forget this perfect summer night in the heartland.
Mat took a sip of coffee. “I called Sandy's lawyer earlier. I told him where the girls were and what had happened. As you might expect, Pennsylvania Child Services isn't too happy with me.”
“You're going to take the girls back.” She'd meant to ask a question, but it came out as a statement.
“Of course. As soon as the bloodwork's taken care of.”
“You're having the paternity tests done here?”
“There's a lab in Davenport. I don't want to deal with all the red tape waiting for me in Pennsylvania.”
“So you'll have the tests done, and then you'll be able to wash your hands of them,” she snapped.
“That's not fair.”
She sighed. “I know. I'm sorry.”
“This isn't what I want! I put in my time as a family man before I was twenty-one, and I hated it.” He gazed around at the quiet yard. “I've worked my whole life to get away from all this.”
It hurt knowing something that meant everything to her was repugnant to him. “Was your childhood so terrible?”
He set his coffee mug on the step. “Not terrible, but you can't imagine what it was like growing up without any privacy and being responsible for so many females.”
“What about your mother?”
“She'd work fifty, sixty hours a week as a bookkeeper. She had eight kids, and she couldn't afford to turn down overtime. The girls ran rings around my grandmother, so most of the time it was just me. I couldn't even leave after I graduated from high school. My grandmother was getting frail, and my mother still needed me, so I lived at home while I went to college.”
“Surely some of your sisters were old enough by that time to take charge of things.”
“They were old enough, but that didn't mean they were reliable.”
Why should they have been, she thought, when their older brother had such a strong sense of responsibility?
The dog shifted closer to Mat's feet. Mat rested his arms on his splayed thighs and let his hands drop between them. The dog nuzzled his fingers, but Mat didn't seem to notice. “Look at me. In less than a week, I've acquired two kids, a pregnant woman I'm telling everyone is my wife, and a damned dog. If that isn't bad enough, now I'm living in a house in Iowa.”
She smiled. “All you need is a station wagon and a mother-in-law.”
He moaned and sagged forward. “When I was on the phone earlier... I rented a Ford Explorer. I wasn't thinking.”
“Explorer?”
“An SUV, today's station wagon.”
She laughed.
His innate sense of humor surfaced, and he managed a pained smile.
“What about your job?” she asked. “Don't you have to get back to work?”
“It'll hold.”
There were some things that didn't add up here. “Lucy tells me you drive a Mercedes. Nice car for a steel-worker.”
It took a moment for him to respond. “I never said I was a steelworker. I told you I worked in a steel mill.”
“The difference being?”
“I'm management.”
“I see.” She slipped her hands between her thighs. “How long before you go back?”
“It takes two weeks to get the results.”
Hope flared inside her, only to fade as he went on. “I'll probably fly back with them tomorrow night, maybe the next day. I guess it depends on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm not leaving you alone.”
“I don't need a bodyguard. That's why I left in the first place.”
He reached down and absentmindedly scratched behind Squid's ears. “The President held a press conference this afternoon. You were the main topic of discussion.”
She'd deliberately avoided listening to the news, and she didn't want to hear this.
The dog propped his muzzle on Mat's foot. “Vander-vort reassured everyone there was no reason to be alarmed about your safety, that you'd spoken with Mrs. Bush just this afternoon.”
“Uhm.”
“Apparently the special task force of agents looking for you has narrowed their search, and they expect to locate you soon.”
She propped her elbows on her knees and sighed. “They probably will.”
“I don't know. You seem to
have covered your tracks pretty well.”
“They're the best. Sooner or later, they'll find me.”
“He blamed your disappearance on the nefarious villains that make up the opposition party.” His mouth twisted in a cynical smile. “He said you'd become increasingly distressed watching your husband's political opponents put their own narrow interests above the best interests of the American people.”
She gave a soft laugh. “He would say that.”
“So which First Lady are you going to call tomorrow?”
She leaned back. “No more First Ladies. All of their phones will be monitored by now. I'll have to move on to the Supreme Court or the Cabinet.”
He shook his head. “It's still hard for me to believe.”
“Then don't think about it.”
“It's tough not to.” That flinty note had crept back into his voice. “You should have told me.”
“Why?”
“How can you ask something like that?”
“What would you have done if you were me?”
“I guess I'd have taken control of my life before it got this far.”
That made her angry. “Spoken by someone who knows absolutely nothing.”
“You asked.”
She jumped to her feet. “You're a jerk, you know that, Mat? Lucy's right.”
He shot up, too. “You led me on!”
“Well, excuse me for not running up to you in that truck stop and announcing that I was Cornelia Case!”
“That's not what I'm talking about! You had plenty of time after that to tell me the truth.”
“And end up having you either snarl at me or bow and scrape?”
Outrage flashed in his eyes. “I never bowed and scraped in my life!”
“This morning you told me you'd made coffee. As soon as you knew who I was, you treated me like some kind of houseguest!”
“I told you I made coffee! What the hell's that supposed to mean?” His eyes were turning the color of storm clouds, but she didn't care.
“That's not all, and you know it!”
“No, I don't know it! And I never bowed and scraped to anybody in my life!”
“Then tell me why we're sitting out here instead of finishing what we started two nights ago! This is Iowa, Mat! Iowa!”
The fact that she'd had to remind him—that it mattered who she was—hurt too much. “Forget it. Just forget it.” She yanked open the door to the sunporch and hurried inside.
Mat watched the screen door slam and tried to figure out what had just happened. How had he become the bad guy? Was he supposed to throw the First Lady of the United States on her back and do everything to her he'd been thinking about all day? Damn her for not being Nell! And what was all that crap about bowing and scraping?
He jerked open the door. “Come back here!”
She didn't, of course, because when had she ever done anything he'd asked her to?
He heard the side door slam and realized she was running off. Out to the motor home where she could lock herself away from him. Out to the motor home after he'd ordered her to stick like glue to his side. Had she once stopped to consider the crackpots who might be looking for her? Of course not.
He didn't let the fact that he'd already made a fool of himself today with the backfiring incident keep him from charging through the house to the side door and out into the yard. On the way, he tried to calm himself down, and he'd almost succeeded when he found the door of the Winnebago unlocked.
He nearly went catatonic. She was an idiot! And, First Lady or not, he intended to tell her so.
He stomped inside and found her throwing a sheet down on that miserable miniature couch where he'd spent the past four nights. “Are you out of your mind?” he exclaimed.
She whirled around, every inch the Queen of Sheba. “What do you want?”
“You didn't even lock the damned door!”
“Quiet! You'll wake up the girls.”
He glanced toward the closed door at the back, lowered his voice, and bore down on her. “As a taxpaying citizen of the United States, I resent like hell what you're doing.”
“Then write your senator.”
“You think that's cute? What if I were a terrorist? Exactly where do you think you'd be right now? And where do you think this country would be if some nut decided to take you hostage?”
“If the nut turned out to be as cracked as you, I'd be in big trouble!”
He thrust his hand toward the door. “Get back in that house where I can watch you!”
Those patrician nostrils flared, her aristocratic spine stiffened. “Excuuuse me?” She drew out the syllables like a long line he'd just stepped over. Her expression reminded him that, while his ancestors had been strapped to a plow in Eastern Europe, hers had been sipping martinis on country club verandas. He knew he'd gone too far, but he wanted her so damn bad that he couldn't seem to stop himself.
“Do you ever think about anybody but yourself?”
Her eyebrows shot right into that highborn forehead. “Get out!”
He was making a fool of himself, and if he stayed a moment longer, he'd only dig in deeper. But he'd never been good at backing away from a fight, so instead of acting like a reasonable adult, he leaned down and scooped her into his arms, blanket and all.
“Put me down! What do you think you're doing?”
“My patriotic duty!” He kicked the door open, then had to juggle both her wiggling body and the door so he could lock it behind him before he carried her to the house.
“You are out of your teeny-tiny mind!”
“Probably.”
“Stop it right now! You're acting like a Neanderthal!”
“Yeah, well, live with it.”
Inside Mabel, Lucy lay awake. The sound of the argument had brought her stomach pain back. She'd never expected them to fight like this. And she couldn't even figure out what they were fighting about, since nothing Jorik said made sense. At least she understood it when Sandy and Trent used to fight about money.
But Jorik and Nell were a lot smarter than Sandy and Trent had been, smart enough to know that people needed to talk over their problems instead of just yelling at each other. What if they decided to break up?
Her stomach cramped.
She glanced over at Button, and the soft baby snores reassured her that her sister was still sleeping soundly. Making up her mind, she slipped out of bed and, moving as quietly as she could, made her way into the house.
“Put me down!”
“When I'm good and ready.”
She peeked around the corner and saw Mat carrying Nell up the stairs. Nell kept ordering him to let her go, and her voice sounded like she was shooting ice picks at him, but he wasn't paying any attention.
Lucy's stomach ache grew worse. Any minute now Jorik would go stomping off and get drunk, then Nell would start crying and get drunk, too. And then they wouldn't talk to each other for a long time.
Lucy couldn't stand it. She crept up the stairs in time to see Mat marching into the guest bedroom.
There was a soft thumping sound as if he'd just set Nell down. Lucy reached the top step.
“Get out of here!”
“You bet I will!”
Lucy pressed her body against the wall and turned her head far enough to see inside. The only light in the room was coming from the hallway, but it was enough. And even though Mat had said he was leaving, he didn't seem to be moving.
“Don't think you're going anywhere!” he exclaimed. “I'll be sleeping right outside this door to make sure you stay where you are!”
“Stop telling me what to do!”
“Somebody has to!”
“Right! You never know when another car might backfire!”
They were so engrossed in their argument that they didn't notice her. Nell just looked pissed, but Jorik looked really upset—like something big was wrong— and Lucy wished Nell would calm down long enough to ask him why he was so bummed. Any minute now Mat would stom
p off, just like Trent used to.
Lucy started to turn away when she spotted the old skeleton key in the lock. Right then, she knew what she was going to do. It would get her in even bigger trouble, but Mat was already so mad at her, what did it matter?
Nell saw her just as she pulled the key from the lock. “Lucy? What—”
Lucy slammed the door, shoved the old key in the outside of the lock, and gave it a hard twist.
“Lucy!” Nell shrieked at the same time Jorik let out a yell.
Lucy put her mouth to the door and yelled right back. “You two have a time out!”
First Lady
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Mat rushed to the door and twisted the knob, but it didn't budge. He banged his fist against it. “Lucy! Open this door right now!”
Nothing but silence met his demand.
“Lucy, I'm warning you . . .”
With the door shut, the room's only illumination came from the streetlight outside. Nealy hurried to the open window and looked down at the motor home in time to see the teenager run inside. She pressed her cheek against the glass. “You're wasting your breath.”
He came over to stand beside her and followed the direction of her gaze. “This time she's gone too far.”
Nealy wasn't ready for their argument to end. She'd been ill-used, abused, and she had a whole litany of sins that she still wanted to rain down on his head. At the same time she wondered how he could look so good in a worn white T-shirt and gym shorts.
Straightening, she let the curtain fall back in place, turned on the small light that sat on top of the dresser, and glared at him. “This is all your fault.”
He pushed himself back from the window and sighed. “I know.”
That took the wind right out of her sails. Although she wasn't proud to admit it, she'd been enjoying their fight. Imagine having someone yell at her like that. And imagine yelling right back without any need to censure her words or stifle her emotions. Her Litchfield ancestors must be spinning in their well-tended graves.
Even though he'd manhandled her, she hadn't been the slightest bit afraid of him. He might believe he was capable of battering the females who upset him, but she knew differently.
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