by Lois Richer
“How did all these things just happen to come together today?” she asked softly as she swung her legs over the side of her chair and moved so she was mere inches from his face. “Exactly what have you done, Gabriel?”
“You always call me by my full name whenever you’re ticked.” He didn’t bother to move back, just sat there studying her with that serious, intent look he gave to some of his biggest projects. “It reminds me of Miss Milton in third grade. She was a termagant.”
“What did you do?” She prayed that he hadn’t embarrassed her all over town by saying she was tired, haggard, needed help, was unable to cope. She didn’t want that kind of attention or pity.
“Me?” He blinked innocently. “I just went for coffee to that little restaurant in town.”
“Uh-huh. And my aunt Susan is a truck driver. Spill it.”
“I didn’t know you had another aunt.”
She reached for the pitcher.
Gabe’s gaze narrowed as he assessed her seriousness. Apparently he was convinced. “I went for coffee, Blair.”
She picked it up and held it above his head.
“Honest!” Gabe held up both hands. “I may have mentioned that I wished my wife had a little more time at home, for me and our son. I can’t remember now.” He smiled like the wolf enticing Little Red Riding Hood. “It was just guy stuff. You know, newlywed questions and all that.”
Blair groaned. She could just imagine it. A bunch of the locals hearing that the groom was being ignored by the bride. Sympathy. Vows to help him out. Calls to their wives.
“My name will be mud.” She set the pitcher down, walked to her chair and flopped into it. “I’ll be the local laughingstock.”
“No, you won’t.” Gabe moved to the side of her chair and crouched next to it as one hand covered hers. “They genuinely care about you.”
“Uh-huh.” She closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere but here.
“They do.” His hand moved to her chin and tilted it. “Look at me, Blair.”
“Yes?” She glared at him angrily.
“Did you ever think that some of those people could do a better job than you? That they were just waiting to be asked to help, to be needed? That they wanted to feel a part of things but were afraid to volunteer for fear they wouldn’t measure up to your standard?”
She frowned. “No, I can honestly say I never thought that,” she muttered, anger nipping at her tangled emotions. “You make me sound like Attila the Hun.”
He shook his head, his eyes dancing as he inspected her body when she lay back on the chair. “I don’t think so.” He laughed. “More like Mary Poppins. Capable of anything.” He stood and pulled her up beside him, hugging her close for just a moment. “I know you can do it all, and you know you can do it all, but let’s not tell everyone, okay? It makes them nervous.”
After a moment Blair pulled away, chin thrust out as she glared at him. “You’re not off the hook that easily,” she muttered. “What you’re saying is that I tend to take over.”
He nodded soberly. “Like a bulldozer. Not that you don’t have to sometimes. But not right now.”
“And not when there are people, capable people who could do it far better.” She sneaked a glance upward and caught an odd look on his face. “Just how did you know about all these things, anyway?” she demanded.
Gabe’s arm fell away from her waist. He reached up and took a sheet of silver-gray paper from his shirt pocket—paper that she’d left on her dressing table this morning.
“Ronnie Morris is doing the canvassing. Tina George will take the kids to camp. Maddie and Stu are taking your place as Sunday morning greeters at church. Somebody named Elfie has taken over the Sunday school picnic, and Tatiana—” he glanced up, a frown twitching at the corner of his mouth “—is that right?”
Blair stuffed down the giggle and nodded.
Gabe continued reading from his note. “Tatiana has been conscripted to help out with the Kids’ Crusade.” He folded the note carefully and handed it to her. “Are you angry?”
“Should I be?” She kept her face solemn, her eyes serious. “You walk in, take over my life and reorganize it all in one half hour. How would you feel?”
“Mad,” he confirmed, shoulders slumping as he walked to his chair and sank into it disconsolately. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. You were doing too much.” His face hardened. “And you know it.”
Blair walked to the edge of the pool and sat near his chair. She dangled her legs in the water. “Yes, I do know it,” she admitted finally.
“Huh?” He got up from his chair, walked around it and sank down beside her. “Did I hear that correctly?”
“Don’t push it,” she warned, but there was a smile in her voice.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Thank you for not raking me over the coals,” he whispered against her ear. “I just wanted some time for us to bond as a family, and I couldn’t see how we were going to do it if you were never here.”
“I was here.” She looked up and caught the pained look on his face. “All right! I was gone a lot. I thought I was helping them.”
“You were helping them.” He hugged her again, and his mouth brushed against her forehead. There was a lightness in his voice, a tenderness in his touch that told her he wanted to do more. “But we need help, too.”
She sighed. “I know I’m possessive about my business,” she murmured, allowing herself to relax against him for a moment. “I guess I’m such a control freak because I’m so scared of messing up.”
Gabe pulled away, holding her at arm’s length as he stared at her. “Messing up? You?” He shook his head in mock reproof, but his voice was confident, brimming with assurance. “You’re not going to fail at anything, sweetheart. You can do or be whatever you need, if not with the candles and honey, then with something else. You don’t have to prove to me that you’re a success. I already believe it.” He drew her close once more. “I just wish that you did.”
Blair closed her eyes and relished being held so tenderly. It had been so long, so very long since she’d felt protected, cared for, cherished. She reflected on the word for a moment. Yes, that was it. Cherished. When Gabe held her like this she felt delicate, but oh, so strong. She felt protected, yet ready to defend. She felt—loved.
“What do you mean—you wish I believed it?” She barely whispered the words, hating to break the spell.
“I think you’re trying to prove yourself, Blair. Isn’t that what all this frenetic activity is about—showing everyone that you can do it, that you can handle whatever you get? Mother, granddaughter, niece, friend, church member, businesswoman.” He stopped a moment. “Superwoman,” he said, holding her away so he could look into her eyes. “Isn’t that it?”
She shrugged, pulling away. He was getting a little too close for comfort.
“I think it is. But don’t you see, honey? It doesn’t matter to Mac or Willie or Albert, but especially to Daniel, that you’ve got all these irons in the fire. First and foremost, what Daniel wants is his mommy there when he wants her.”
She listened to him without speaking.
“You were wrong, you know.” Gabe pressed her head against his chest and swept his hand down the length of her damp hair. “There is no such thing as making quality time. You can’t make it. It happens in those moments when you’re relaxed and not really thinking about anything. That’s when the enlightenment comes, the questions are asked, the biggest decisions are made. You can’t schedule that. I should know.”
“Why?” she whispered, so afraid to break this sacred time but needing to pull away, to regain her equilibrium. She drew back, but left her arms wrapped around his waist.
“For the first few weeks after my mother died, my father used to make me sit down for a half hour every day after dinner, if he was home. I had to tell him everything I’d done that day. If I missed something, I’d hear about it later.” He sighed, fiddling with her curls, wrapping them around his
finger and then watching as they sprang away.
“I suppose he thought he was making time for me. What it really felt like was an interrogation. I never did tell him how scared I was of the school bully, or that I hated art class.”
He laughed, but to Blair, there was no humor in it.
“I wanted so badly to tell him that Mom usually let me pick out one shirt, a special one. And that I wanted a red shirt, a bright red one. Stupid little things that we might have discussed while we were playing at something or sitting together.”
She tilted her head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you want with Daniel, isn’t it? That time of quiet confidences?”
“I want him to feel that he can trust me with anything. That’s the way I want you to feel, too. But we need time together to build that trust.”
She sighed, acknowledging the truth of what he’d said. “I know.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Blair.” His hands held her head so she couldn’t look away from that steady regard. “I don’t care much what other people think. I know, or at least I’m beginning to know who you are deep inside.” His voice dropped to a gruff whisper as he set her away and stepped into the pool.
“You don’t have to half kill yourself to prove to me that you could get along just fine without my help, Blair. Believe me, I already know that. You’ve proven it for seven years.”
As she watched him submerge himself into the water, eyes squeezed tightly closed, Blair felt her throat tighten up. He thought she only tolerated his presence, that she didn’t need him to be in Daniel’s life, to be in her life.
How had she ever made him believe such a terrible lie?
Chapter Ten
Blair shifted on the tiled edge of the pool, prepared to go to Gabe, to swallow her pride and tell him how wrong he was, to admit she needed him now more than she ever had.
“Mommy! Daddy! Guess what?”
Daniel’s excited voice checked the impulse, and Blair stayed put. She would deal with this later, she decided. During some of that time Gabe wanted them to spend together.
“We’re out here, son. By the pool.”
Gabe emerged from yet another dousing and paddled his way from the deeper water to the shallow.
“Daniel’s home,” she told him.
In the second that he absorbed her words, Gabriel Sloan transformed right before her eyes. His eyes lit up, and his mouth lost the tense, tight line that held it captive. He climbed the steps eagerly, snatching a towel to dry as Daniel hurled himself through the door that led off the kitchen.
“Are you guys swimming now?” he asked, big eyes round with amazement. “Don’t you have to work, Mom?”
Blair cringed inwardly, then forced out a laugh. “Not right now. Right now we’re taking a rest.” She held out her arms and pulled him close when he ran into them. “Boy, you’ve grown again. I can feel it.” She pushed the hair off his face and smiled. “What’s got you grinning?”
“Teacher said to ask if we could look after Babycakes until next fall. She’ll take him back when she returns from her summer trip. Can we, Mom? I’d take good care of him. I promise.” Daniel crossed his heart, his eyes pleading with her just as his father’s had mere moments before.
Blair considered it. “I don’t know,” she murmured. She tilted her head to stare at Gabe. “Maybe we’d better ask your dad what he thinks.”
Daniel raced over to the big man and flung himself into arms he seemed to know would be waiting for him. “Can I, Daddy?”
Gabe snuggled him on his lap in a nearby chair, then frowned. “I don’t know,” he said.
“I promise I’ll take really good care of him. You won’t even know he’s here. I’ll feed him and water him, and take him for walks lots so he doesn’t get into any trouble. He can’t stay at his own house anymore ’cause they’re moving away. And their new place don’t allow no dogs. Can I?”
It whooshed out in a jumbled mass of begging and promises that made Blair grin. Especially when she caught sight of Gabe’s face.
“What or who is a Babycakes?” he asked, one eyebrow tilted.
“A dog, silly.” Daniel grinned at his father as if he were teasing. “You know that. I tole you before.”
“Oh. Yes. Babycakes, the dog. Right.” Gabe blinked, then turned to Blair with a shrug that screamed, “Help!”
“A very large dog. An English sheepdog. A blind English sheepdog.” Blair kept her lips pinched together. This organized, helpful man was in for a surprise if he thought Babycakes was a regular dog. “He’s sort of the kids’ mascot. They all love him. Some folks in town found him early this spring and have let him stay on their farm. But they’re moving.”
“Oh.” Clearly Gabe didn’t know whether to say yes or no. His eyes begged her to help out.
“Can we have him here for the summer, Mommy? Ple-e-e-ease.” Daniel dragged the plea out to a twelve letter word.
“Babycakes is a boy dog.” Blair hid her grin behind her hand. “I don’t know, Daniel. I guess it will be up to your father to decide that. I promised him I wouldn’t take on any other jobs. He thinks you miss me too much.”
Temporarily diverted, Daniel nodded. “I did miss you last night, Mommy. You always come and kiss me good-night.”
“I did last night, too,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “It’s just that you didn’t see me because your eyes were closed. All scrunched up. Like this.” She made a face and honked a loud snore.
“I was sleeping!” Daniel giggled, wiggling to get a look at his dad. “Wasn’t I?”
“If that obnoxious noise can be called sleeping.” Gabe tickled Daniel, then glanced over his head at Blair. “Is this dog thing okay with you?”
She got up, sauntered up the stairs, then paused at the door to the bedroom. She forced her face into a mask of seriousness and turned to face him.
“I’m leaving that up to you.” When his eyes widened at her simpering tone, she smiled. “I don’t want to volunteer for anything more. My husband might think he was being ignored. I wouldn’t want the town gossiping about that. Would you?” She stepped regally into the room and swept the French doors closed behind her, snicking the lock into place.
“Oh, boy, are you in for a surprise, Gabe.” She stepped under the shower, her mind busy with a picture of Babycakes loose in the castle. “A really big surprise. If you thought we were busy before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
In the process, Gabe might just discover how very much she needed him right by her side.
He wanted her to trust him? Then that’s exactly what she’d do. Blair sincerely hoped her husband knew what he was asking for.
“Would somebody please get this stupid animal off of me?”
Friday morning, Gabe’s muffled protests carried through the open kitchen window where Blair was mixing a batch of cookies.
“Please?”
She stifled the burble of laughter that itched to be set free and walked to the patio doors. Gabe lay on the grass, his body swathed by the big woolly body of a wriggling, ecstatically happy dog who busied himself licking his face and anything else within range of his lolling pink tongue. Babycakes. Again.
With a grimace of remorse for the forget-me-nots they’d ruined, Blair shoved open the screen and stepped out.
“What are you doing, Gabe?” she inquired mildly.
“I was walking. Minding my own business. He got me from behind and knocked me over. Do you mind? I’ve been lying here begging for help for at least ten minutes.” He quickly averted his face as the pink tongue swept across it once more. “Blair, please!”
“I love it when you beg.” She put two fingers in her mouth, curled her tongue and whistled for all she was worth.
Babycakes rolled onto his back, legs poking straight up in the air as he froze in position. Gabe scrambled to his feet, rescued his sunglasses from underneath his rear quarters, his cell phone from under his left ear, then marched across the grass to where Blair stood.
>
“I’m a mess.”
“You certainly are.” She moved to snap the leash on the dog and led him to the fenced-in area Gabe had constructed two days ago. The dog sat obediently while she unsnapped the leash, then trotted to his water dish. Blair closed the heavy gate with a sigh.
“He hasn’t been here a week and we’ve lost just about every flower. If Mac catches him tiptoeing through the petunias, he’ll be sorry.” She fixed Gabe with a glare. “So will you. Why did you let him out?”
“I didn’t!” His indignant glare convinced her. “That thing was lying on the deck sunning. I thought I could sneak past him and I almost made it.” He grimaced at the hair covering his elegant black suit pants.
“Why are you all dressed up?” Blair asked, latching the screen.
“I told you, remember? I have to make a quick trip to L.A. Something’s happening and they want me back for a couple of hours. I should be home by seven.” He made a face at the slobber that covered his sunglasses. “That animal is a menace.”
“You told Daniel he could have him here,” she reminded him pertly, enjoying this side of the perfectly groomed, always impeccable Gabriel Sloan. “Can’t very well change your mind now.” She concentrated on forming the little balls of peanut butter dough. “This is the second time this week you’ve had to go. Is there a problem?”
Gabe shook his head, though his eyes didn’t meet hers. “No, just a glitch. Shouldn’t take long.”
“Now where have I heard that before?” Blair switched the pans in the oven, setting the pan loaded with golden brown discs to cool on the counter. “Last time went considerably longer than you expected. Good thing you picked today. Daniel’s still at that sleepover. He’ll stay until supper time. By then he should be extra tired.”
“Have you got everything you need for his party tomorrow? Anything I can pick up?” He reached out, snagged one of the cookies, blew on it, then popped it into his mouth. “Mmm.” He huffed and puffed for a minute, letting the heat dissipate as he chewed, swallowed, then grinned at her. “Very good.”
“You’re supposed to eat them in bites,” Blair scolded, pushing the pan away so he couldn’t reach any more. “You know, actually taste them?”