Built to Last (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Johnson, Janice Kay

  The lines vanished as Aunt Julia laughed. “I suspect the ball was some tedious political gala, and he needed somebody decorative on his arm. I don’t even remember it.”

  “Or him?”

  “Oh, I remember him.” She waved a hand dismissively. “He was lovely to look at, but I learned he was a puppet with several other people pulling the strings. Not nearly as interesting as I thought he’d be.”

  “What about now?” Jo asked, leaning forward. “Are you still seeing that federal judge?”

  “George?” Her aunt sounded uncaring, but some emotion pinched her face, bringing back the wrinkles. “No! He fell for a thirty-year-old law clerk and married her. I understand she’s pregnant with twins.”

  Jo frowned. Men didn’t leave Aunt Julia for other women. At least, Jo had never imagined that they did. Perhaps her aunt had already lost interest in him, and he was seeking consolation.

  “You two seemed so…cozy, that Christmas Boyce and I spent with you. Almost settled.”

  “Settling isn’t in me,” Aunt Julia snapped. “You know that.”

  Startled by the edge in her voice, Jo bit her lip. “I didn’t mean…”

  “He was good company.” She set down her coffee cup with a sharp click. “That’s all.”

  “Are you seeing anyone now?” Jo asked tentatively.

  “It seems as if everywhere I go, the men are married.” Her aunt snorted. “Men my age are pushing strollers. Ridiculous.”

  “Do you ever wish…?” Jo hardly knew how to frame her thought.

  “Don’t be absurd!” Aunt Julia’s laugh was hard. “Can you see me, of all people, in a Lamaze class? Changing diapers, instead of writing briefs? I’m hardly the hausfrau type.”

  “Women do seem to juggle work and family more successfully these days.” Why was she arguing, when she felt the same? Yet the words kept coming. “Maybe because employers are more sympathetic. Women don’t have to give up so much anymore to have children.”

  “Nonsense!” Aunt Julia signaled the waiter with a flick of her hand. He bustled forward, deferentially taking her order for a sorbet. When he was gone, she continued, “I don’t know a single serious practicing attorney with children. It’s simply impossible to put in those kinds of hours and be any kind of parent or keep a husband content. Oh, there are ones on the lower echelons who put their careers on the back burners for years while they raised children, but they’ll never regain what they lost. And at least law is something you can take up again! Your poor mother had to sacrifice any chance at all of making it as a singer. Not that she didn’t love you, of course.” This was said offhandedly, in a way familiar to Jo, who had heard it a hundred times. Not that she didn’t love you, but…

  Jo dared voice a question she’d always been afraid to ask. “Was Mom really sorry? I mean, did she say that she was?”

  Her aunt chose to answer indirectly, if it could be called an answer. “Do you know, she never sang after you were born? Do you even remember lullabies?”

  Jo had to shake her head, although she felt a shimmer of memory, a soft voice crooning in the darkness as they rocked, rocked, rocked. She sensed the warm bundle of her baby brother on her mother’s other shoulder. So the song hadn’t been for her. If there had been a song at all.

  “There you go then.” Aunt Julia picked up the spoon in her sorbet as though this subject, too, was closed.

  On a flicker of exasperation, Jo asked, “Why did you ask about Father?”

  Her elegantly dressed aunt looked up from her dessert with surprise. “I always do.”

  “No.” Jo felt oddly combative tonight. “You didn’t say, How is your father? You said, I assume you haven’t seen him, as though… I don’t know.” But she did. Aunt Julia had said it as though she were seeking confirmation of something that pleased her.

  For the first time, Jo wondered if Aunt Julia wanted to be more important to her niece and nephew than their father was. If, in her mind, there wasn’t a competition. Almost as if she were their mother, long divorced from him.

  “I can’t imagine what you mean,” she said coolly. “If I phrased my question poorly, I apologize. I merely sought to discover whether your relationship with him had improved.”

  It would never do that, Jo knew. Once she would have cared, but no longer. Instead she followed the intriguing idea that Aunt Julia, of all people, actually possessed maternal feelings.

  If that were true, it meant she could have been a mother. Or even wished she had been. Was that possible? Would she ever admit it, if it were so?

  “You’ve been very much like a mother to us,” Jo said. “You know how grateful we both are.”

  Her aunt hid an expression of pleasure, but not quickly enough. “Whatever brought that out?”

  “I’ve just…done more thinking lately about Mom, and children and parents in general. Both of the women I live with have daughters—I think I told you that.”

  “I can’t believe you moved into a house full of kids. How do you get any studying done?”

  “They’re both quiet. Too quiet. I actually,” she cleared her throat, “I, um, like them better than I expected to. Even Ginny, the six-year-old.”

  Aunt Julia threw back her head and gave a derisive laugh. “Please don’t tell me your biological clock is ticking, and you too are starting to imagine the joys of warming a bottle for a screaming infant at 4:00 a.m.”

  “Of course not!” Jo snapped. “Ginny and Emma are hardly the kids to make me think parenting would be a breeze anyway, since they both have problems. It’s just that their mothers love them. I never have the feeling they wish they weren’t burdened with children.”

  There, she thought with relief. That’s what she’d begun to notice. Helen, grieving though she was, never seemed resentful of her daughter, any more than Kathleen, who had chosen her child over her husband.

  No, neither woman had had to balance a career with motherhood. Perhaps one of them had made sacrifices when she found she was pregnant. Jo didn’t know. But they were struggling financially, both of them. If they ever wished that they didn’t have to put another person first, they hid it well.

  It was too bad Emma in particular didn’t realize how lucky she was. Maybe Jo should tell her.

  “Then you must be seeing a man,” her aunt decided, scrutinizing her. “Is it serious?”

  Annoyed, Jo said, “No! I mean, yes, I’m seeing someone, but I’ve just met him. Neither of us is interested in marriage or anything like that. He already has kids, but they live with his ex. I’m happy with my life, Aunt Julia. I don’t see why expressing appreciation—”

  “You’re right,” her aunt interrupted. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you making the same mistake your mother did.”

  But I wouldn’t be here if Mom hadn’t chosen marriage and motherhood, Jo thought in automatic protest.

  “You knew that Boyce broke off with that… Jennifer person,” Aunt Julia said. “I’m glad. I couldn’t listen to a word she said when I visited him last time. All I could do was stare at that dreadful row of hoops through her eyebrow.”

  “I didn’t know.” Jo was disturbed that her brother hadn’t called her. They weren’t so close that they spoke weekly, but usually they updated each other on major life changes. “I’ll have to call him.”

  Her aunt’s smooth brow furrowed. “He seemed upset. I didn’t care for her, but I’m afraid he did.”

  On an impulse almost immediately regretted, Jo asked, “Do you miss your judge? Wasn’t it…nice, having somebody you knew so well? Who knew you so well?”

  The answer was predictable, an arrogant, “I don’t need anyone to know me.”

  Jo just wasn’t sure she altogether believed it anymore.

  MOODILY, RYAN SLUMPED in his worn leather club chair, propped his feet on the ottoman and used the remote to flick on the television. He’d missed the Mariners playing the Cleveland Indians when he went to Kathleen’s earlier. Now he flipped through channels without finding anyth
ing that interested him. Frowning, he killed the television.

  Why hadn’t Jo said that she wouldn’t be home this evening? When he asked Kathleen, she’d dredged up a vague memory that Jo was meeting somebody for dinner, and later he hadn’t liked to ask the others. A man had some pride. Maybe she had a study group getting together at a coffee house.

  Even if she was on a date, it wasn’t his business. He and she had barely started seeing each other. Neither had even hinted that they should be exclusive.

  Which didn’t keep him from brooding over the mental image of her with another man. Laughing with quick pleasure, a sparkle in those rich brown eyes, or pursing her lips before expressing an opinion. He wondered if she knew how provocative she was when she did that.

  The house had felt empty without her there tonight! He’d always liked hanging out with Emma and even little Hummingbird. Irritating his sister was a lifelong hobby that still gave him childish pleasure. Since Kathleen had ditched Ian and bought the Ravenna district house, it had been a home away from home for Ryan.

  Tonight, he’d hung around for a while, but without enjoying any of the conversation. Emma had asked for help with some complicated form of graphing that might as well have been Greek to him, and he’d felt stupid. Ginny was more interested in the kitten than in him, Kathleen was paying bills with a Grand Canyon-size frown furrowing her forehead and Helen disappeared right after dinner. When Ryan offered to mow the small back lawn, Kathleen told him the boy who’d been Pirate’s previous owner had already done it. In fact, he’d done several chores Ryan usually handled.

  Out of sorts, Ryan went home.

  Not that his mood had improved here. He supposed he ought to run some laundry or sweep or scrub the shower or some useful thing, but he didn’t get up from his easy chair. He was bugged by the knowledge that he was dependent for his state of mind on a woman.

  How had that happened so fast? They hadn’t gone out half a dozen times: dinner, a movie, a drive up to Mt. Rainier. She had been as blunt as a woman could be about her lack of interest in permanency, marriage, children. He was supposed to be having fun with her. He wasn’t supposed to be ready to kick the first small child that crossed his path merely because an evening had gone by without his having talked to her or seen her.

  “Not now,” he said aloud, then jumped a good six inches when the telephone rang. Despising himself for his eagerness, he snatched up the cordless, which sat on the end table beside him, then made himself wait through three rings before answering. “Yeah?”

  “Ryan.” The voice belonged to his ex-wife. “Um…hi.”

  His mouth tightened. She wanted something. Wendy was as cold as a penguin’s morning swim when she didn’t. He was pretty sure she didn’t know how obvious she was, or she’d employ a subtler touch.

  He tried not to antagonize her, however. For the kids’ sake, they had to get along. Trying for a reasonably genial tone, Ryan asked, “What’s up? Tyler and Melissa okay?”

  “Of course they’re fine. They’re both in bed. I wanted to talk to you when they couldn’t hear.”

  He wondered how stupid she thought they were. Whatever she was going to ask of him, their kids would find out eventually. Unless it was money, but that was rare. Her new husband made plenty.

  “Didn’t you get my check?”

  “Oh.” She sounded flustered. “Yes. Of course I did! Thank you.”

  “Then?” He was sorry right away for his brusqueness, which she tended to bring out in him. If only she’d just once in her life come right out and say what she wanted.

  “Melissa did really well on a big math test today.” She offered it like a sprig of olive in a bird’s beak: a tentative peace.

  Ryan shifted the phone so that he cradled it between his shoulder and ear, freeing him to take a swig of pop. He needed it. “Good.”

  “Tyler is loving soccer. Ronald videotaped the last game. We’ll send you the tape.”

  As if wobbly, grainy images on the television screen could make up for never being able to see his own kid on the field. For not being able to pace the sidelines, yell encouragement, give quick hugs, see the triumphant grin dawn on the eight-year-old’s face when he made a gigantic save.

  By moving, she’d cheated him of all that. He tried hard to be adult about this. He couldn’t expect her not to remarry, not to move when her husband got a better job. Ryan did his best not to resent her too much for what she’d stolen from him.

  Most of the time, he failed.

  “Yeah.” Voice gritty, he forced himself to add a curt, “Thank you.”

  She started chattering about Ronald’s family and their holiday traditions, as if Ryan cared. “So you can see why we want a break,” she concluded.

  Frowning, he reran what he remembered of her narrative and couldn’t find a connection. A break from what? From whom? “Yeah. Sure.”

  “So you won’t mind having them? You don’t have other plans?”

  He sat up, gripping the phone. Okay. He’d missed something, big time. Who was he supposed to be having? Ronald’s family?

  He gave his head a shake. No. She wanted to ship the kids to him.

  “For Thanksgiving,” he said tentatively.

  “Actually, I thought it wouldn’t hurt if they missed a couple of days of school.” She gave a high nervous laugh. “Well, three days, technically, but you know the Wednesday before Thanksgiving they have only a half day, and that’s a joke, what with class parties and all the excitement about having a break and—”

  He interrupted ruthlessly. “When do you want to send them?”

  “Friday night? Before Thanksgiving?”

  “For a week stay.”

  “Weren’t you listening?” she asked in exasperation.

  Ryan drew a breath. “I was supposed to get Christmas this year, and you Thanksgiving. Are you suggesting we switch?” He loved Christmas! The kids had two weeks off. He’d been really looking forward to that.

  “No,” Wendy said. “I know that’s not fair, especially not when I’m asking you for a favor. You can have both, if you’re okay with that.”

  Okay? He was jubilant. On his feet and pacing, Ryan suppressed the exultation in his voice. “Yeah, you know I always like to have them. Have you told them…”

  “No, I wanted to clear it with you first. They’ll be excited.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Ronald really wants us to do something with just the two of us. We’ve had so little time alone,” she said apologetically. “Ronald has been terribly nice about taking on two school-age children. He’s really good to them. But we haven’t been married very long, and sometimes we want to do something romantic.”

  Ryan said nothing. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to do anything romantic with Wendy. Listening to her light, quick voice, to the breathy apology and the clutter of details that obscured the point of her call, he couldn’t remember ever having loved her. He knew he had—or knew he’d thought he was in love—but his primary emotion now was gratitude that Ronald wanted Thanksgiving without Melissa and Tyler, thus forcing Wendy to be uncommonly generous.

  “Just let me know what flight they’ll be on,” he said. “I’ll give them a call tomorrow night after you’ve had a chance to tell them about the change in plans.”

  “Wonderful!”

  The rush of relief in her voice seemed excessive, giving him pause. It had seemed to him the kids had been conspicuous lately in how careful they’d been not to mention their stepfather.

  Was her marriage in trouble? What kind of pressure had “terribly nice” Ronald put on her to ditch the kids? Ryan was suddenly very glad he’d have a chance to talk to Melissa and Tyler about their mom and stepdad. Over the phone, it was too awkward to ask, “How do you feel about Ronald?” Let alone ask if he ever laid a hand on them, or if he scared them in any other way. Ryan could never be sure that Wendy wasn’t listening in on another phone, or to the kids’ end of the conversation. And in the time since he’d seen the
m, the talks on the phone had become stilted. It scared him to think that he might already be becoming a stranger to them, a man they didn’t really know but were obliged to maintain a relationship with. Having them for a week now, for two at Christmas, then for two months next summer… That would help.

  Yeah. It would help a lot.

  A knot of unhappiness in his chest loosened, and he said quietly, “I’ll look forward to seeing them, Wendy. Don’t worry during your getaway. We’ll be having a good time, too.”

  And Jo could meet his kids, too, Ryan thought a moment later, after he’d hung up the phone. Maybe she didn’t want any of her own, but there was no reason to think she wouldn’t like his. Look how good she was with Ginny and Emma!

  Yeah. Smiling, he drained the can of soda, resumed his seat and reached for the remote control again. They’d have a great week.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PIRATE’S VISIT to school was a huge success. Jo watched with pride and delight as Ginny, lovingly cradling the kitten, carried him around the circle of first-graders seated on the floor so each could pet him. Pirate purred indiscriminately. The clumsy plastic collar appealed to the little boys, and the softness of his fluffy orange-and-white coat evoked oohs and aahs from the girls.

  For once the object of envy and admiration, Ginny glowed. “We rescued him,” she told one student in response to a question. “He probably would have died if we hadn’t taken him home.”

  Emma, in the circle with the little kids, said, “He gets his patch off next week.”

  One little girl waved her arm in the air. Signaled by the teacher, she asked, “Can he come back so we can see him again?”

  The teacher smiled. “We’ll see. Now, does anybody else have something to share?”

  Fortunately, nobody did, as the entire class was still entranced with the kitten.

  The teacher strolled around the circle to Emma and Jo. “I understand you two plan to stay until the end of the day to wait for Ginny?”