Impossible Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  His gaze inadvertently dropped to her mouth as she sipped, but he jerked back to his senses at his first reaction to the moistness of her lower lip.

  “I didn’t notice that your mother-in-law kept Constance from roaming the highway,” she continued, as if his attention hadn’t strayed. “Did she cook Constance’s breakfast? Will she pick her up at school this afternoon? Fix her dinner tonight?”

  Axell drew his hand over his face and tried to rearrange his thoughts, but nothing fit. He might as well ask her to gaze into a crystal ball. It couldn’t be any more useless than his confused arguments with himself. “Sandra’s just visiting. I can’t ask her to do those things. I imagine she’ll do them when she takes Constance home.”

  “You imagine?” she asked in outrage. “You imagine she’ll take care of your child? Isn’t that the same thing as saying you really don’t care? That once she’s out of sight, you don’t have to worry about her anymore?”

  Heat rushed to his head, and Axell almost leapt out of his chair before he realized she’d driven him to rage. He’d spent a lifetime cultivating impassivity. It worked well when tempers flared in the bar. Yet it had taken this California hippie less than five minutes to explode his ironclad control.

  He clenched his fists and took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “I love Constance enough to do what’s best for her.”

  “Which is why you’re here,” she prodded.

  Right, he’d forgotten. He’d had an ulterior motive in coming here. He didn’t hold out much hope of achieving it, but desperation led a man to do things he wouldn’t do otherwise. He had to at least try to find some means of keeping Constance home. Logic said his mother-in-law would be a much better parent for Constance than he was. But dammit, his daughter belonged with him.

  He didn’t operate just on protective instinct though. If Constance’s reaction this morning was anything to judge by, she didn’t want to go with Sandra any more than he wanted her to go. If Sandra wasn’t the best path to Constance’s happiness, then he had to find another one.

  Axell dropped his gaze to the unappealing cup of tea and forced out his plea. “I don’t suppose you would have any interest in taking on the job of nanny?”

  A gurgle of laughter reached his ears, and he looked up in suspicion. Maya beamed from ear to ear, presenting him with the picture of soft pink lips and a slightly tilted tooth. She had a mole the size of a speck just on the edge of her delicate chin. Fascinated, his gaze lingered there, blocking out his hearing and probably his brain. He didn’t recover until she tapped his hands.

  “Don’t you think I’m just a trifle overqualified?” she asked in amusement.

  Groggy from the spell she cast, he didn’t respond immediately. His gaze drifted downward to her creamy skin above the lace-trimmed, collarless pullover she wore beneath her jumper today. He thought maybe it was the same iridescent reddish-brownish-purple dress she’d worn the other day, only with a different blouse, but that didn’t lessen her potent feminine allure. A little voice in the back of his mind told him she probably didn’t have money for clothes. He clung to that thought as he finally met her gaze again.

  “Can you afford to turn down the offer of free room and board and handsome salary?” he asked blandly.

  She blinked, disconcerted. For a change, he thought maliciously. The woman had kept him unbalanced since their first meeting. He was older and considerably more experienced. It was time he took charge of matters around here. From the looks of things, she needed someone to take charge. Which made him wonder how she’d formed the school so quickly after arriving here, but that was a matter to be pondered another time.

  “As long as the shop makes enough money to pay the rent, I have my own apartment, Mr. Holm. If I’m to pay off my sister’s bills, I need to keep the shop open. And the school is a dream of a lifetime. I’ll not trade it for the offer of comfort. I’m aware I do not appear to be the most ambitious person in the world, but I’m capable of supporting myself.”

  He nodded. He hadn’t held out much hope that she’d accept his offer. “Then I don’t have much choice, do I? Unless you happen to know someone who can give Constance the mother figure she needs, I’ll have to send her home with Sandra.”

  “That child needs you.” Rage quivered in her voice again. “Do you have any idea at all how it feels to be abandoned? To feel unloved, unwanted, shoved from place to place, never knowing the rules, never knowing where you belong? It’s hell, Mr. Holm. I’ll do whatever I can to prevent that happening to another child within my reach. Bring her here after dinner in the evenings. I’ll be her mother. It’s scarcely a palace, but I can offer her a home and the love she needs while you polish your bar and pat the backs of strangers.”

  She may as well have smacked him. Trembling with fury, Axell stood up. He’d had this or a similar argument once too many times with his wife. He had no good reason to listen to it from this woman who meant nothing to him.

  “I’m not abandoning my child, Miss Alyssum. I love her enough to do what’s best for her, and dumping her in the arms of a complete stranger is not best for her.” In his anger, he ignored his inconsistency. “I think it may have been a mistake to allow her to grow so attached to you. I’m withdrawing her from the school.”

  The baby kicked hard enough to hurt as Maya watched Axell storm out. She probably deserved the kick, although it should have been a swift one to the rear.

  With all his powerful connections, Axell Holm could easily influence the wealthy parents of tuition-paying students to abandon her school, leaving them with only the non-income producing scholarship students.

  It looked like her dream of settling in Wadeville was dissolving faster than anticipated.

  Five

  Support bacteria, they’re the only culture some people have.

  “I would like to buy a gift for my granddaughter.”

  At after two in the afternoon, Maya had expected the ringing door chime to represent the arrival of her afternoon clerk. She’d considered closing at two to save the expense of salary and taxes, but the teenager Cleo had hired to handle the after-school browsers was desperately proud of her job, and Maya didn’t have the heart to lay her off.

  Recognizing the haughty, rounded tones of Southern aristocracy, Maya sighed and returned her feet to the floor. She’d painted dragons to match Matty’s on her own inexpensive Keds. She thought they’d turned out rather fine.

  Standing up to the counter, she smiled a greeting at a woman with a helmet of blond hair. “How old is your granddaughter?” she asked cheerfully. Cleo had a lovely assortment of imaginative gifts for children. When not lost in drugs, her sister had a brilliant, creative mind. Admittedly, the whimsy of a New Age shop was out of character, but Cleo would have sold bent nails if it meant the independence she craved.

  “She’s only eight. I cannot imagine how anything in here could be suitable, but she insists this is her favorite place.”

  Maya bit her lip and held her tongue — not a pretty sight, she figured, but the best reaction she could summon. Very few children returned here on a regular basis. Even fewer were younger than ten. Constance Holm was one of them.

  She studied her customer more carefully, finding little of elfin Constance in this polished matron. Women like this had to be stamped out with cookie cutters: lacquered coiffures, gleaming lipstick, fashionable designer suits, sensible pumps, and figures maintained by tennis, golf, and private pools. Nothing about her screamed “maternal” or “loving” or even “imaginative.” A child with an active mind like Constance needed creative parenting. She should know; she’d been one.

  “Children of eight love fantasy,” Maya responded quietly. She’d already ticked off Axell today. She didn’t need to alienate his mother-in-law. “Most of the ones who come in here love the kaleidoscopes. We have an assortment of varying artistic quality. The more expensive are handmade. For a child of eight...”

  “Kaleidoscopes have no purpose.” She waved away the suggestio
n with a manicured hand adorned with a diamond as big as a robin’s egg. “Do you have any dolls? Books, perhaps?”

  Maya had never known Constance to show any interest in the dolls at school, and this wasn’t a toy store. Reining in her impatience, shifting from one aching foot to the other, she clung to her pleasant demeanor. “There’s a wonderful children’s book store just down the street. We don’t try to compete with them.”

  “But Constance says this is her favorite store. Surely you must have something.”

  The woman seemed genuinely puzzled, as she should be, perhaps. Cleo’s shop was cluttered and full of weird objects some of whose purpose even Maya couldn’t discern, which was precisely why children adored it.

  This was a small town. Use it to advantage, a small voice whispered in her ear. Maybe Fate had steered this woman in here for a reason. Having been victim of it often enough, Maya had a healthy respect for Fate.

  “If you mean Constance Holm, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Maya Alyssum, her after-school teacher. Constance is a delightful child.”

  The woman looked startled, then wary as she took in Maya’s thrift shop maternity jumper and unfashionable shawl. “Pleased to meet you,” she said uncertainly, not offering her hand.

  Accustomed to that reaction, Maya shrugged it off and removed the crystal ball from the counter case. “I wouldn’t recommend this for most eight-year-olds, but Constance has her father’s carefulness with material things. She adores crystals and this globe fascinates her. I can guarantee hugs in return for this gift.”

  Instead of looking at the crystal, the woman studied Maya. “You’re a teacher?”

  Alarm bells clamored at her veiled note of disdain, but Maya merely smiled more brightly. “Masters in early childhood education. I was working forty hours a week at the time so I missed Phi Beta Kappa, but otherwise, my credentials are quite astonishing. The public university didn’t require Liz Claiborne suits for a passing grade,” she finished dryly in the face of her customer’s visible disbelief.

  The bell over the door clamored as it swung in on a spring breeze and the healthy shove of an exuberant teenager. “Hey, Maya, Matty’s dragons are cool. Could you paint some on my shoes?”

  “Even Miss Kidd likes ’em,” Matty announced proudly, releasing the teenager’s hand and hurrying over to display his red dragon for general inspection. “Shelly says they’s better ’an smiley faces.” He beamed with delight.

  Matty’s happiness melted Maya into a warm puddle of mush. Not in the months since his mother’s arrest and his aunt’s arrival had he shown any evidence of pure childhood pleasure. That something so simple as a silly dragon could produce it, a dragon she had created, engulfed her with pride.

  “Well, when we get your new sneakers, we’ll have to paint even bigger dragons on them,” she declared. “We’d better hurry over to the store before we go see Miss Selene.”

  Daringly deciding Matty’s happiness was more important than impressing her condescending customer, Maya handed the crystal ball to her clerk. “Teresa, if you would help Constance’s grandmother, I’d appreciate it.”

  Wiping the dust off her hands with a towel she kept for the purpose, she emerged from behind the counter. Not wishing to encounter the unpleasant sight of her customer’s mouth hanging open in shock, Maya simply took Matty’s hand and swept out the door. Burning bridges was her specialty.

  ***

  They found a practically new pair of padded athletic shoes at the Salvation Army store around the corner from the shop. Matty displayed them proudly to Selene and anyone else who expressed interest after they arrived at school. At one point during the afternoon he wore one dragon shoe and one new shoe. A five-year-old’s ability to take pleasure in simple things warmed Maya’s scarred and jaded heart.

  It didn’t, however, warm her wallet, she thought as they headed home to an empty refrigerator. She’d spent her last five-dollar bill on the shoes. She hated to ask Selene for an advance on her salary. She’d been trying to use the proceeds from the shop to slowly pay off the mountain of bills in Cleo’s mail, but if it came down to a choice between borrowing from the till or feeding Matty, she’d have to choose the latter, she decided as their ride stopped the car at their street corner.

  Trying to remember how many eggs remained in the apartment’s little refrigerator and wondering if a withered bell pepper and a piece of onion counted as vegetables, Maya wearily helped Matty from the back seat and waved farewell to the mother of one of her students. Living only a few blocks from the town’s main highway into the city had the advantage of being on the route to almost everyone’s home. If Selene wasn’t available, she could usually count on a ride from the last parent to pick their child up at school.

  Her back ached, her feet hurt, and her empty stomach demanded more than an egg for supper. She couldn’t deny the child inside her womb any more than she could deny Matty. She’d have to raid the day’s profits and go to the grocery. If Teresa had pulled off the crystal ball sale, there should actually be money in the till for a change, but it was probably in the form of credit card paper. She couldn’t count on too many customers paying cash.

  Wishing for the luxury of a decadent Big Mac as they walked the final block between the highway and home, Maya wrinkled her nose at the flash of blue lights reflecting off store windows and bouncing off brick walls. She had nothing against the police, but the anarchy of her growing-up years had inevitably painted those blue lights as symbols of turmoil in her mind. Matty’s hand tightening around her fingers as he huddled closer warned he wasn’t immune to them either.

  She hated that. She wanted him to grow up secure in his surroundings, not terrified of every new occurrence. Somehow, she would have to teach him to trust in her ability to protect him against the world’s unpleasantness.

  Glancing down at her distended belly, Maya snorted in derision. Like, right, she’d done such a good job of protecting herself.

  Not until they turned the corner did she understand the full extent of the disaster she’d been handed this time.

  The entire front facade of Cleo’s shop lay in tumbled heaps of old brick spilling across the street and sidewalk. Yellow police tape blocked all access to their home.

  ***

  If he hadn’t been watching for her, Axell might not have noticed Maya in the growing dusk between the rows of buildings. As it was, he caught a glimpse of orange-red in the halo of a street lamp, and hastened to catch up with her. She had a kid with her. He hadn’t realized she had a son. Both of them were so pale in the glow of the street light he feared they’d faint.

  “There’s nothing you can do right now.” Axell caught Maya’s elbow, and felt her shivering through the cloth of her thin blouse. The temperature dropped quickly once the sun set. “They can’t let anyone past the police line until inspectors assess the damage. It’s just the brick facade that fell, but they don’t know if there’s underlying structural damage.”

  “Muldoon?”

  For a moment, Axell wondered if her mind had wandered. Her voice trembled, and she hastily bit her bottom lip, but he could see her chin quivering in a battle to fight tears. In a flash of some insane leap of logic, he caught the connection. “The cat?” The black and white cat. Muldoon had driven a black and white police car in some ancient TV show.

  She nodded. The boy merely stared in wide-eyed silence at the remains of his home. Unable to tolerate the vacuum of helplessness, Axell pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Maya’s shoulders. She didn’t even seem aware that he’d done it.

  “The cat’s probably fine. Only the bricks collapsed, and they fell outward. I’ll have the cops keep an eye out. Do you have anywhere else you can go for the night?”

  She stared at him blankly for a minute, then apparently registering the question, nodded. With that nod, he watched her almost visibly discard the shroud of defeat, straighten her shoulders, and don the mantle of blithe vivacity. “We have cots at the school. It’s just...” She thre
w a wavering look at the crumbled building and continued bravely, “We’ll need transportation.”

  “You can’t sleep on a cot,” he said impatiently. “Besides, that place is way out in the country without security lights. It’s not safe for a woman alone. How about family?”

  She shot him a wry look that warned she was recovering from the shock and told him of the asininity of his question. Her only family was in jail.

  “All right, let’s walk over to the restaurant and get a bite to eat and think about it. I left Constance with the kitchen staff. She’ll be wondering where I am.”

  Surprised that she actually acquiesced without protest, Axell steered Maya through the crowd of other shop owners and passersby and warned the policeman in charge to watch for the cat. This was a small town. People looked out for each other. He had confidence someone would take in the cat. He wished he was equally confident about the teacher.

  Thinking she looked so frail that he ought to be carrying her, Axell did his best to adjust his steps to hers as they traversed the two blocks to his bar. The lights from the tall narrow windows of the restaurant glowed welcomingly as they approached, but as Axell’s step lightened, Maya’s grew heavier.

  “I can’t go in there like this.”

  Finally, the protest he’d expected. In his experience, women never agreed without argument. Some days, he wondered how women thought the world had survived all these years without them running it. He recognized the chauvinism of the thought, but there were days when he felt conspicuously undervalued.

  “Why not?” he demanded. “No one bites.”

  He couldn’t see the look she shot him and probably couldn’t interpret it if he could.

  “I have dragons on my shoes.”

  Dragons. On her shoes. Axell closed his eyes and tried not to groan. He’d offered the position of nanny to a lunatic.

  “I gots dragons too,” Matty said in what sounded like consolation as he offered up his shoes for inspection.