That'll Be the Day

by Kress, Alyssa

  Something furry and muscular rubbed against Maggie's ankles. Osiris, the calico, was smoothing her cheeks against Maggie, her tail whipping around Maggie's calves.

  "That's right," Maggie told the animal, crouching down. "He felt exactly the same way about it that I did. And that's good. Very good."

  The cat, of course, had nothing to reply to this, but merely stood still, waiting. Maggie knew what she wanted, and scratched behind the cat's ear. Osiris immediately lifted her chin and closed her eyes in mute ecstasy.

  Maggie felt a tightening in her belly as she watched the cat's pleasure. It had been a while since she'd had such pleasure of her own, been petted, made to close her eyes and purr.

  With an appalled sound, Maggie rose from her crouch. She didn't want such pleasure. That is, she didn't want it from Ian. A man like that would be the worst thing for her. He made her...crazy. Not herself.

  It had been a very good thing Ian had left.

  Maggie heaved a deep sigh and turned to go into her kitchen. A very good thing. She wasn't sorry about it at all.

  ~~~

  Oh, it was a joy to get behind the wheel of his Jeep Grand Cherokee again. After leaving Maggie's nursery, Ian drove down Broadway toward downtown, tuning the radio to his favorite country-western station and cranking the volume high. He sang along, pounding the steering wheel in time to the music.

  Life was going to be fine.

  Maggie: prickly, feisty, independent—man-hating—Maggie had the hots for him. She was pining for him. For him! And the most wonderful part was, just in time, Ian had discovered she was a knockout. How had he missed seeing it before now? Those breasts, tailor-made for a man's hands. And her butt was perfect, a round, squeezable temptation. Ian was going hot again, just remembering it all.

  And there she'd been, in front of him all this time. Wanting him.

  Ian was so thrilled with the whole business, he went all over town. He stopped at three strip malls, buying video games for Andy, shirts for Kathy, and a slinky, X-rated negligee he knew for damn sure he'd never be handing to Maggie. But it was a pleasure to buy it, to imagine viewing her siren body modeling it for him. Who knew, maybe one day, if he'd gotten on her very, very best side...

  It was late afternoon by the time Ian got home. As he walked in the door, he could hear the TV on upstairs. No living creature was in sight.

  "Hello!" he called, directing his voice up the stairs. "Anybody home?"

  "Dad?" Kathy's voice could be heard a moment before her face appeared at the upstairs railing. "What are you doing home?"

  "I live here. At least, last time I checked."

  "Oh. Yeah, sure, but—" Her pretty face puckered. "But isn't it a little early?"

  Not when you don't have anything else to do. Ian hastily shook the thought away. In fact, he did have something else to do. A most delightful project that he intended to begin the very next day.

  Well, hell, he'd actually already started the project that morning.

  "Where's Andy?" Ian asked.

  Kathy's gaze swept across the upstairs landing. "He's already closed in his room, supposedly doing his homework."

  "Uh huh. And how about you? You finish your homework already that you're watching TV?"

  Kathy regarded her father with puckered face again. "I do my homework while I'm watching TV."

  Ian's eyebrows went up. "Is that right?"

  "I always do it this way, Dad."

  "You don't say."

  "Uh huh. Now, can I get back to it?"

  Which really meant, could she get back to her TV show? Ian hesitated. He thought Kathy watched too much TV, but he didn't want to be a bull in a china shop. If this was how Kathy always did her homework—a fact he could hardly check since he'd never been home in the afternoon with the kids—maybe he ought to leave well enough alone. "Sure, honey. I'll talk to you later."

  Before Ian could finish speaking, Kathy had disappeared. Sighing with a smile, he started up the stairs. At the top, he turned to regard the closed door of his son's bedroom. What to do? Knock? Or walk past? It seemed rude not to greet his son, but experience told him Andy would prefer that Ian leave him alone.

  He nearly did, but in the end he couldn't be that much of a coward. He strode forward and knocked. "Just want to let you know I'm home, Andy," he called through the door. "I'll start dinner in about an hour."

  As Ian started to walk away, Andy's door opened behind him.

  "Dad?" Andy called.

  Ian turned around. "Oh, hi. I didn't mean to disturb you. Just wanted to let you know I was home."

  Andy looked baffled, an expanded version of the confusion Kathy had also shown. "But...what are you doing here?"

  Same question as Kathy, too. Ian tried for a better answer this time. "Uh, I got done with the doctor around eleven. By the way, he said everything's A-okay, I don't need a babysitter. Then I did some shopping, and now I'm home." He held up his hands, as if to say, 'end of story.'

  But of course, that wasn't the end. The doctor wasn't the only one who had to give Ian a clean bill of health. That had to come from Ian's friends and associates. Hell, it had to come from Ian himself, who was positive he wasn't really okay. How could he be when something had already happened once? Out of nowhere! And nobody could really assure him he was out of the woods. His damn heredity...

  "Oh." Andy still looked confused. "Um, so you're going to make dinner?"

  "Thought I'd take a stab at it." He could cook a few things, his mom's recipe for tuna casserole, an omelet. Not a big repertoire but adequate for one night. "Doing all right with your homework?"

  "Sure, sure." As he regarded his father, Andy still wore a slightly worried, not quite satisfied expression.

  Ian wondered if he shouldn't dig into that expression. What was the kid actually thinking? But Andy wouldn't welcome such an intrusion, nor was Ian sure how to effect such a thing. How was he to march into Andy's worries and reassure him, when Ian wasn't able to reassure himself?

  He took a step away. "All right, then. See you later."

  "Right. Later." But Andy was still standing in his bedroom doorway when Ian turned to walk away.

  He could feel the kid's gaze between his shoulder blades until he got to the corner of the hall and turned out of view.

  Yep, something was going on with Andy, but Ian had no idea how to take care of it.

  His mouth twisted as he entered his bedroom. What a prize he was. Not man enough to fight for his job. Not man enough to deal with his son.

  What made him imagine he was man enough to get into bed with Maggie?

  Ian walked over the Navaho-style rug, past the king-size bed and to the window overlooking the backyard. Planting a hand on either side of the window frame, he stared out. A tire was tied to the big eucalyptus tree.

  He'd already been coming down from his high, but looking at the tire swing plunged him deep into a canyon of negativity. He remembered putting up the swing when Kathy had been five. When had the kids last used it, though? They were growing up. Hell, in four years Andy would be gone.

  Looking out the window, Ian hissed quietly. He didn't know his own kids. Worse, he didn't know how to remedy that situation.

  God, he was a piss-poor father. If Sophia could see what was going on...? She'd been an excellent mother, always knowing exactly what to do, when, and for whom. She'd been so good at parenthood, Ian had simply hung onto her coattails. He'd thought the deal made sense. She took care of the kids. He took care of the paycheck. She did her job, he did his.

  But now Sophia was gone, and he was floundering trying to take her place. Hell, he couldn't manage his own part any more, getting the paycheck. Oh, he'd saved and invested over the years. Financially, he barely needed a paycheck, but that wasn't the point. He couldn't handle a job.

  What kind of a man was he? What was he any good for?

  Leaning his forehead on the window, Ian closed his eyes. Despair weighed him down. He felt heavy enough to fall through the floor. For a moment
he didn't know how he was going to go on. Then it occurred to him.

  This was almost textbook. He'd read about this exact phenomenon in the hospital's discharge instructions: the tendency to have high highs and low lows after a heart attack. Very softly, Ian chuckled. Good to know he was following at least somebody's expectations.

  He opened his eyes and pushed off of the window frame. The tire swing in the backyard still looked back at him, faintly mocking, but he was up from the worst of it. He was simply having a—a chemical reaction. This sudden onset of depression was purely physiological.

  Not that he thought he was the greatest dad in the world. Not that he had the slightest idea what to do about Andy. Or his job. But he was, indeed, a man.

  Hadn't he been having the most essentially man-like thoughts just this afternoon? Ian felt another chuckle, a healthier one, deep in his chest. He wouldn't soon forget the astounded expression on Maggie's face while he'd helped her repot that baby palm.

  She hadn't expected him to think of her sexually. In fact, Ian was pretty sure she'd been counting on him never to think of her that way. And when she'd seen that he did...

  Ian turned back to face the bedroom, leaning his hips on the windowsill. A faint smile curved his lips. When she'd seen that he did, she'd gone into full retreat.

  Maggie was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. For some reason, she'd decided nothing should happen between them.

  But Ian would ferret out her reason. It wouldn't be easy. Neither did he anticipate ease in disposing of her scruples, whatever they might be.

  But the reward if he could manage it—?

  His smile widened. Some challenges were worth every drop of effort.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  His dad made the horrible tuna casserole. Kathy piled her plate with salad, making it difficult to tell she'd barely eaten any of their father's culinary effort. Andy didn't particularly like salad, so he had a harder time disguising how little he was downing of his father's favorite casserole.

  "So, did you finish your homework?" Ian asked Kathy, spooning more of the dread casserole onto his own plate.

  Kathy rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad. I always do, just like I said."

  Ian made a humming noise.

  "So." Kathy plunged her fork into the greenery on her plate. "Since I did finish, can I watch that lawyer show tonight?"

  Ian slid her a glance. "Yet more TV?"

  "Well, I did finish my homework."

  "No," Ian said.

  "But Dad—"

  That was the thing about Kathy. She didn't mind pushing it with their dad. Wasn't the least bit scared to.

  "No," Ian repeated, "and I don't want to hear any more about it."

  Kathy huffed, and chewed her salad angrily.

  "How about you?" Ian turned to Andy. "You finish?"

  "Uh. I'm still working on it."

  Ian paused in the act of forking up more casserole. "They must have given you a huge assignment. You've been holed up in your room for almost three hours."

  "Yeah, well." Andy didn't attempt to explain. No matter how much time he stuck his nose in his books, he didn't get anything done. Too many worries distracted him.

  Ian's expression began to get stern.

  Andy braced himself. He smelled a lecture coming, something about application or focus.

  But instead, and to Andy's considerable astonishment, his dad backed off. "I'm sure you're doing your best," he told Andy. "And that's all anybody can ask of you."

  A feather could have knocked Andy over. His best was all anybody could ask of him? What had happened to 'succeed at all costs,' 'give one hundred and ten percent,' and all that jazz?

  "So." Ian reached for the salad bowl. That appeared to be all he had to say. 'So.'

  There was silence for a minute, and then Kathy piped up. "It sure is quiet without Aunt Maggie here."

  The expression on Ian's face wavered, like a curtain blowing over an open window. "Yep," he agreed. "You can say that again."

  "All right. It sure is quiet—"

  "He didn't actually mean he wanted you to say it again," Andy snapped.

  Kathy stuck her tongue out at him.

  "Well, it's pretty obnoxious," Andy began. He would have gone on, elaborating exactly how obnoxious, but he caught a glimpse of his father's face. His dad was getting that sickish look, the one he'd been wearing the morning of the heart attack.

  Andy immediately retreated. "Never mind," he mumbled. "Anyway, you're right. Aunt Maggie contributed more than her fair share of noise at the dinner table."

  Ian chuckled then, and Andy relaxed, though he didn't relax entirely. He would have been a lot happier if Aunt Maggie had actually been at the dinner table and going to spend the night again. Everybody said his dad didn't need a babysitter any more, but Andy was unconvinced. For example, what about that sickish look just now?

  It was as if his dad had read Andy's thoughts. "She's only a phone call away." He looked at Andy. "And so is 911."

  "Like, anyway, Dad is healthier now than before the heart attack," Kathy, the big expert, claimed.

  Ian turned her way. "You're absolutely right, angel heart."

  "Of course I am." Kathy had no doubt about it. "Didn't you drive home all by yourself?"

  Ian's face broke into a huge grin. "That I did." He laughed. "I was so thrilled about being able to drive again, I went all over town this afternoon." He tapped the table, still grinning. "Bought you guys a few things."

  "You did?" Kathy, already perky, perked up even higher. "What'd you get?"

  Ian laughed again, pretty perky himself. "After we're finished with the dishes, I'll show you."

  "Okay." Kathy immediately set to work finishing her salad.

  But Andy could only look at his dad. He'd bought them a few things? Really? The cold feeling that had been swirling around all day, driven by Andy's knowledge that Aunt Maggie wasn't going to be around, now whirled into a tight, frigid knot. Dad was being awfully nice. Weirdly nice. It wasn't natural.

  And why had he come home this afternoon? If the doctor really had given him a clean bill of health, why hadn't he gone in to work?

  Andy stared at his father hard, as if he could figure it out just by looking. He couldn't. All he knew was that something was definitely wrong.

  ~~~

  Maggie spent all of Tuesday tense, expecting Ian to show up at the nursery again. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if she were more afraid of Ian or of her own reaction to him. Her brain tended to do a disappearing act when he was around.

  In the end, it turned out she needn't have worried. Ian didn't darken her door.

  On Wednesday morning, Maggie spread Alana's site plan on the stone floor of the sales building, the only place large enough to accommodate the drawing. She told herself she wasn't sad or disappointed that Ian seemed to have forgotten her. Breathing out slowly, she squinted at the scribbles Alana had made on the drawing about desired plant types, then transferred her own notes into a spiral notebook.

  Of course she wanted Ian gone. He was a—a menace. For sixteen years she'd watched Ian steer his way through every situation, making sure things turned out his own way. She'd seen him utterly cow her sister, ordering her every move. "Yes, Ian," Sophia would say, with a smile. "Of course, Ian." She'd refused to do a thing without getting his okay first.

  Maggie particularly remembered one occasion when she and Sophia had gone shopping. At Robinson's there'd been two coats Sophia had adored.

  "Oh, why don't you just get both of them," Maggie had advised. Sophia could afford it.

  But Sophia had made a pained sound. "I'd better call Ian."

  "What?" Maggie had been aghast.

  "See what he thinks." Sophia had dug her cell phone out of her purse.

  "What difference does it make what he thinks?"

  But it had clearly made a difference to Sophia. Ignoring her sister, she'd punched in the phone number, covered one ear, and proceeded to ask Ian which coat she should buy. />
  Maggie had listened to Sophia's side of the conversation with mounting frustration. How could her sister be so under the thumb of her husband that she couldn't choose her own clothing?

  After a conversation of at least five minutes, Sophia had closed the phone with a smile. "He said to get the black one."

  "Did he?" Maggie knew she'd sounded sour.

  "Uh huh. I'm so relieved." Sophia had set aside the camelhair, which Maggie'd thought looked fantastic on her, and picked up the black wool. "This will work out just right." Then Sophia had smiled: a big, happy smile.

  On the floor of her sales building, Maggie shook her head at the memory. Not for her. A relationship like her parents' was something she would never enter. She was her own woman, one who made her own choices.

  In other words, she was thrilled Ian was out of her life.

  Behind her, the bell over the front door jingled. Maggie froze in her spot. Tingles traveled up and down her neck. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

  But inside, a rebellious, stupid part of herself rejoiced.

  "Ian," Maggie said, and twisted to look up at him.

  He stood just inside the door, his feet planted slightly apart, his hands on the hips of his black jeans. "Maggie."

  She knew her heart was pattering like an excited squirrel, but she hoped her face looked serene.

  He was wearing a tight little smile. It would have made him look smirky, except for the slight lift of his chin, which left an impression of defensiveness. He must have realized how little she wanted to see him. "Wasn't there a tree we didn't finish repotting?" he asked.

  Maggie's fingers clutched her pencil so hard she was sure her knuckles went white. He knew damn well why they hadn't finished potting that baby palm. "There's...no need."

  "Huh." Ian crossed his arms over his chest. "You got somebody else to help you?"

  "Well, no, but—"

  "Not to mention, I seem to recall I owe you."

  Maggie frowned.

  Ian lifted his chin a fraction of an inch more. "I figure I help you out here, really help you out this time, in a week we can be even, square that debt."