Patchwork Family

by Bonnie Tharp

  “Rachel, get Shelley for me please. Annabelle needs a few tests.”

  Annabelle stared, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

  What now?

  Chapter 2

  LONG BLACK-AND-SILVER waves of hair cascaded over the pillow and onto the sheets. Regina smiled at the ceiling, content, while Sam circled her nipple with his huge finger. In the past year she had learned how to love, not only the bear-like man beside her, but love herself as a woman. At fifty-nine, she’d discarded the men’s pajamas she’d always preferred. Now, she reveled in the feel of cool cotton sheets upon her warm, bare skin and the feel of hot flesh against flesh.

  Warm moist breath sent goose bumps shimmering up her body.

  “Go away, Sugar, you’re distracting the object of my attention,” Sam said.

  Regina scratched the Labrador Retriever under her silky neck. “Good morning, sweetie.”

  The white haired hunk beside her snorted, “Fine, say good morning to the canine and just ignore me.” The bed rocked as he turned away.

  “Go lay down, baby girl, I have something to attend to,” Regina said. Taking her time, she rolled to face Sam. Sliding her arms around his waist, she scooted into his warm back, tucking her knees behind his.

  “Good morning.” Her breath blew on the back of his neck.

  “Hi.”

  Wiggling against his backside, she felt his breath catch, then escape with a sigh.

  “You’re happy, aren’t you, Reg?” He cradled her arm against his body.

  “Ahuh.” She kissed his broad shoulder.

  “You know I love you.”

  “I know. I love you, too.” She stroked his stomach.

  “Then, marry me.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder.

  “Sam, darling, we are married.” She kissed his cheek.

  “Not legally.” He sighed then turned away.

  “Common law marriage is legal in the state of Kansas, is it not?”

  “Yes, but we have to pool our resources, present ourselves as a married couple, file joint tax returns and cohabitate. The latter we do, but . . .”

  “No, buts, Mister. We don’t need a piece of paper to declare our love. So what if we each have our own money? Financial security isn’t an issue. What is the problem, my fine man?” She found herself inching away, the cool air a shock to the fire between their bodies.

  Regina felt her ardor start to cool. How a man of Sam’s strength could be insecure, she’d never understand.

  “It just feels temporary, that’s all.”

  “Darling, we’re almost sixty, and life is temporary. Let’s enjoy each other and not complicate things with papers and promises. For the first time in my life, I feel real love. That won’t go away.”

  He rolled over to face her. “You’re right, of course. I have to go to work today. Want to make me breakfast?” He slipped a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  “How do you want your Grape Nuts? With milk or yogurt?”

  “Surprise me.” Rolling out of bed, he headed toward the shower.

  Regina stretched, smiling at the creaks in her knees. She might be considered mature, but she was pretty fit. She’d always been blessed with a tall slender frame, unlike her chunky cousin, Annabelle.

  Sugar padded back into the room and gave a quiet woof.

  “I’ll bet you’re ready for breakfast, too, aren’t you, girl?” Regina rolled onto her feet, slipping Sam’s tee shirt over her head. It hung off of one shoulder, covered her to mid thigh, smelling of aftershave and his wonderful scent.

  It doesn’t get much better than this.

  She put the coffee on and set out a bowl of cereal. Regina leaned against the counter braiding her hair into one long rope of black and gray, watching Sugar gobble her kibble until Sam joined them in the kitchen.

  “You look pretty good in my undershirt, woman.” He slipped his arm around her waist, kissing her neck.

  Eying the starched shirt, crisp gray slacks and polished loafers, Regina grinned. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

  He patted her behind then raised an eyebrow. “My, you’re getting quite liberated. No panties for Regal Regina?”

  Chuckling, she said, “It’s about time, don’t you think? Mother never allowed me out of my room without ‘proper attire.’”

  “I’m glad my dad was her lawyer. I don’t think I would’ve liked your mother much. She was gone when I took over the business. I’ve heard you and Annabelle both speak of her coldness. I just can’t see how such a frigid woman could have borne such a hot daughter.” His blue eyes crinkled, but he forced the corners of his mouth from turning up too far.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Regina sat down beside him. She sipped her coffee while he ate.

  “Beautiful, elegant, Mother was like a porcelain doll. Deep down I really wanted to be more like her sister. Aunt Rose was more free-spirited.”

  “More like you are now.” Sam picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “You’re a beautiful mix of both.”

  “Thank you, Sam. That’s the best compliment I could ever have.” Her sly smile suggested she’d be willing to thank him properly if only he’d ask.

  “Now, don’t you do that, or you’ll have me cuddling up with you and not getting to work on time.” He reached out, cupping her chin.

  “Very well, off with you then. I’ll see you later, but don’t expect me to fix dinner, too. We’ll eat out or you’ll have to grill something. I have a blank canvas upstairs, with a picture forming in my brain as we speak.”

  “Very well, I’m off.” Sam kissed the top of her head on his way out.

  She sat for a few more minutes, enjoying the slurping sounds Sugar made over her bowl. Regina’s paintings had been modestly successful, adding to the money her parents left her. She’d never wanted for anything in her entire life, except their affection. They were too busy with “society” to nurture their own child.

  When the Lab finished, she tried to nuzzle Regina’s arm.

  “Oh, no you don’t, Miss Slobber Lips. Let’s wipe your mouth and get to work.” Regina could just imagine her mother’s cross words about filthy animals in the house. Victoria never knew the joy of animal companionship. Come to think of it, she couldn’t recall her mother enjoying anything. Victoria had been a cold fish, and Regina had spent most of her life trying to be just like her.

  What a waste.

  Chapter 3

  PEGGY TIPTOED UP the stair edges, hoping to avoid the squeaks. It’s a good thing she’d checked herself in the mirror. Her grandmother would have a fit if she saw the state of her clothing and hair. She’d lost her brush. Finger combing had been useless. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks red. It had only taken Miles fifteen minutes to muss her up when they stopped to “make out” before he dropped her off on the corner.

  Looking over her shoulder to check that the coast was clear, Peggy missed the last step. She dropped her books on a formerly sleeping Ms. Pickles, whose feline squall could be heard for blocks.

  “Hello?” Annabelle called from the kitchen. “Peg, is that you?”

  “Damn,” Peggy cursed under her breath. Scooping up her books, she dropped her purse near the hissing cat. “Sorry, Ms. Pickles. Hi, Gram.”

  “You’re a little late,” Annabelle called from the parlor. “Did you miss the bus?”

  “Yes,” Peggy called over her shoulder. “I got a ride home.”

  “How was your day?”

  “Fine.” Peggy sprinted into her room and shut the door. Leaning against it, her chest heaved.

  A soft knock made her jump.

  “Peg, is something wrong?”

  “No, Gram, I’m fine. I just need a few minutes alone. Tough day, you know?” The throbbing of her heart filled her ears.


  “All right. I’ve got fresh chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen if you want some.”

  “Thanks.” Peggy crossed to the dressing table, looking at herself in the mirror. What she saw looked guilty and thoroughly kissed. “Oh my god.” Looking more closely at her neck, she gasped. A hickey. I’ll kill Miles Asher, I swear I will.

  Pulling off her wrinkled shirt, she searched for something with a collar. Discovering a white cotton button down with short sleeves in the back of her closet, she looked at her developing bust and grimaced. It probably won’t fit. Cripes. Gram is gonna kill me.

  I’ll be sixteen in a few months and able to date without a crowd. I want to be alone with Miles. Now.

  She placed a safety pin between the buttons, but the fabric still gapped. Brushing her hair over her ears, she turned her head to see if the hickey still showed. Hidden in the shadow of her collar, she had to be careful not to tuck her hair behind her ears. Megan and Tad would be home soon. While Tad did the male gender proud with his lack of observation skills, Megan made up for it. She noticed everything. In the past year she’d gotten more and more vocal about things, too. Her baby sister was coming out of her shell. Peggy hoped Megan would be too preoccupied to notice her neck, or at least be quiet about it. She took one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

  The aroma of fresh baked cookies wafted to her. “How could I have missed this?” Taking a deep whiff, Peggy crossed the linoleum to the fridge to get the milk. The front door slammed, followed by a rush of feet coming down the hallway.

  “I smell cookies!” Megan said.

  Peggy began to pour three glasses of milk. “Do you want a glass, Gram?”

  “No, thank you, hon, I’m fine.” Annabelle paused to look thoroughly at her eldest grandchild.

  Feeling the heat flood her face, Peggy dropped her chin so her hair would fall forward, hiding her throat.

  Tad tossed his backpack in the corner of the room, flopping into a chair. “Hey, Gram.” He gave her a lopsided grin, running his fingers through his spiked blond hair.

  “Hey, yourself, young man. Did you wait for Megan’s bus?”

  “Yeah, ours was running late so I just hung out on the corner.”

  “Hi Gram, did you have a good day?” Megan asked.

  “Busy, but much better now that you children are home.”

  Megan watched her grandmother lower herself to the empty seat.

  “Did you miss us?” Tad said, stuffing his mouth with a cookie. “Too quiet around here?” It came out a jumble that was easily understood.

  Peggy sat back in silence, afraid of drawing attention to her swollen lips.

  “You look tired,” Megan said. “Can we help you with anything?”

  Snorting, Tad said, “Gee, thanks, Meg, I really needed you to volunteer me for chores.”

  When Tad started complaining, Peggy couldn’t keep still. “It’s about time you did something around here, Tadpole.”

  “Bite me,” he responded.

  “Tad!” Annabelle said. “I don’t want to hear you say that again.”

  “Sorry.” His eyes narrowed as Peggy smirked.

  “It would help a lot if you three would put your things away. The clutter is getting a bit deep.” Annabelle sighed, looking in the direction of the backpack. “We’re dog-sitting this weekend. I don’t want Regina to see this place like it is right now. She’d pitch a fit.”

  Tad dragged a finger across his throat.

  Megan giggled and bit into her cookie, a milk mustache decorating her upper lip.

  “You should know,” Peggy said. “I thought she’d clobber you when you messed with her paintings last year. Adding mustaches to all the portraits was the stupidest thing you could do.”

  “She was kinda mad,” he said, his ears reddening.

  “More like scary.” Megan shivered. “But Tillie showed us how to clean them off without ruining the faces.”

  Their grandmother interrupted the conversation before it got out of hand. “Never mind, that was a long time ago. It doesn’t pay to look back. We aren’t going that way.” Annabelle looked off into space.

  “Wow, Gram. You’re, like, philosophical,” Peggy said.

  “Not really, hon, just realistic. That was one of my Grandmother Morgan’s favorite sayings.”

  The children finished off the plate of cookies, draining their milk, being quiet for a change. Annabelle felt numb, totally preoccupied with her own concerns.

  After being reminded, they deposited the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. The younger kids headed up the stairs, the noise level decreasing as they went.

  Hanging back, Peggy stood in the doorway looking at her grandmother. “You okay?”

  “I’m a little tired. Maybe we’ll order pizza tonight.”

  “Better order two. Tad seems to be trying to fill his size twenty feet. He’ll be taller than me before long.”

  And I don’t need him towering over me. I am the oldest.

  “You’re all growing up so fast.” Annabelle struggled to smile.

  “I’m sorry we don’t help as much as we should. I’ll talk to the kids. We’ll do better, I promise.” Peggy crossed the room in quick strides, wrapping her arms around her grandmother’s soft neck. “We love you, Gram.”

  “Oh, hon,” Annabelle said, patting her thin arm. “I love you three very much. This past year’s been wonderful, but it’s gone by so fast. You’ll all be grown up and gone before I know it. Then I’ll be a lonely old woman with a three-legged cat.”

  Ms. Pickles raised her head from the curl she’d made of her body on the rag rug and sneezed.

  “Unless Megan takes the cat, that is.” Annabelle smiled.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be around quite awhile yet. So will you.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m just a little past middle age, if I live to be a hundred and thirty.” Annabelle planted a kiss on her granddaughter’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Peggy unwrapped herself and followed after her siblings.

  Gram looks worried. I wonder if she saw my hickey? Surely she would’ve said something if she had.

  Shaking her head, Peggy moved down the hallway to her brother’s room. “Tad, let’s help more around here. Gram looks beat.”

  He studied his sister’s face before responding. “She is kind of old, isn’t she? I’ll try to be more careful about leaving my stuff lying around, but I’m a guy you know. How long is this going to take? I can’t like, change who I am.”

  “You can try, dweeb.”

  Going back to the room she shared with Megan, Peggy closed the door, crossing to the bed. The room smelled like freshly washed cotton.

  The therapist said Megan’s old enough to have her own room, but whenever she tries to sleep in another room she has bad dreams, ending right back here with me. We’re both older now. I need my space. I’ll see if Megan is ready to try again.

  Her sister sat in the middle of the pillows, a book in her hand and a faded, stuffed dog under her arm. Her eyes were open wide.

  “Something’s wrong with Gram,” Megan said.

  “She’s just tired. We need to help her more, that’s all.” Peggy lay down on the pillow beside her little sister.

  “It’s more, I can feel it. She’s hurting.”

  Gazing into her little sister’s gentle brown eyes, Peggy wondered just how much she really felt. Gram took care of Megan from the time she was born, when their father had split for good and their mom was at work. When she came home, she drank. Stale sweat, cigarettes and liquor hung on her mother like a cloud. Those were the smells she associated with Liddy. That, and the sound of glasses breaking in the sink where they’d been thrown, or the bone in Tad’s arm when she’d snapped it.

  “I hope she’s not.�
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  Handing her sister the stuffed animal, Megan stuck her thumb in her mouth, curling into Peggy’s side.

  “Come on, Megan, don’t suck you’re thumb. You’re way too big for that.”

  She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and hugged her big sister.

  Patting Megan’s back, Peggy fought the unshed tears. “It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” But, Peggy’s chest felt tight and her stomach began to hurt.

  What now? And what am I going to do about Miles? I’m not sure I’m ready to give in, but he makes me feel so . . . special.

  Chapter 4

  THE NEXT MORNING, Annabelle parked a block away from the law office with the hope that if Regina drove by she wouldn’t notice the Rambler. Shuffling down the sidewalk, moisture dampened her upper lip. Breathing was a challenge.

  A buzzer sounded when she entered the front door of the offices of Duncan & Duncan, Attorneys At Law. Rising from her chair, the receptionist frowned as Annabelle approached. “Hello, my name is Annabelle Hubbard. I’d like to see Sam Duncan, if he has a couple of minutes, please.”

  “I don’t believe you have an appointment.” The woman looked down her skinny nose with a disapproving frown. The nameplate on her desk read “Marvel.”

  What kind of a name is Marvel?

  Straightening her spine, Annabelle said, “No, I don’t. It shouldn’t take long, if you’d just let him know I’m here.” Obviously, this woman screened would-be clients. She’d only seen Sam once professionally, a little over a year ago to get custody of the grandchildren, so this woman didn’t know she and Regina were related.

  Marvel picked up her phone with long, well-manicured fingers. “Mr. Duncan, there’s an Annabelle Hubbard to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment.” Her frown deepened, “Very well.” She patted her lacquered brown hair then smoothed her pencil skirt before coming around the desk. “Come with me, please.”

  Annabelle followed the stick thin receptionist down a short hallway to the first door on the left, feeling all of her years and then some. Maybe she was further beyond the midway mark in her life, a scary thought. Looking down, she frowned at her comfortable shoes and baggy slacks.