An Unexpected Match

by Corbit, Dana

  “I’m not,” he began, but he stopped himself because there was no way to answer that. He was, in fact, always this cynical. He’d just never had anyone call him on the fact before.

  He’d also never seen Haley angry before. Hurt, yes, but never angry. Still, he could tell by the flex of her jaw that she was. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  She just stared at him, not believing him. Her disbelief made him question himself. Was he really so jaded that he’d lost the true meaning in Christ’s death and resurrection? No, that couldn’t be true.

  Haley glanced over at Elizabeth again, perhaps to make sure she wasn’t listening.

  “I know you probably didn’t mean that the way you said it,” she said. “I just hope you find time in all your ‘overtime’ to remember to thank God that the tomb was empty.”

  Chapter Ten

  Haley bustled around the living room in Matthew’s house nearly a week later, making sure everything was perfect. All the other rooms had been tidied, the table had been set and dinner such as it was, would be going in the water once it boiled.

  A smile settled on her lips as she pictured herself wearing high heels and a frilly apron over her dress as she handed Matthew his slippers and newspaper when he came though the door. She could do the June Cleaver thing, right? But the fantasy crumbled as soon as Haley touched the rocker/recliner that moved to reveal a bunch of rubbery legs from dolls peeking out from under it.

  She crouched and started pulling dolls, clothed in party dresses, from beneath the recliner-turned-dollhouse.

  “Elizabeth,” she called out to the child she’d just heard on the stairs. “Someone forgot her dolls in here. Do you know who that someone might be?”

  “Me.”

  Haley was reaching to see if there were any stragglers still beneath the chair when the splashing sound of water boiling over filtered in from the kitchen. Standing, Haley brushed her hands off on her un-June Cleaver-esque jeans. She jogged into the kitchen. She pulled the pan off the stove just as Elizabeth sprinted into the room.

  “Miss Haley, the water’s boiling over.”

  “I can see that.”

  The water would need to be cleaned up from the range’s drip pan later but for now she still needed to cook dinner, so she placed the saucepan under the faucet to refill it.

  Haley sighed as she returned to the living room. She wasn’t anywhere near the 1950s TV character that had set an unattainable image for housewives. Haley’s hair wasn’t properly coiffed, her fuzzy slippers didn’t give even an extra quarter-inch of height and her cooking wasn’t close to gourmet. She did, however, have something in common with Barbara Billingsley, the actress who portrayed old June: they were both playacting.

  Haley shook her head. No one actually still wanted a life like that, anyway, did they? “When did I become so un-PC?”

  “What’s PC?” Elizabeth asked from the other room.

  “It stands for ‘politically correct,’” she answered.

  “Oh.” Elizabeth didn’t sound all that interested in the subject.

  Haley hoped the child wouldn’t press for a more detailed explanation, not when Haley was so busy getting her head on straight over other matters. She had no business daydreaming about Matthew Warren and his daughter as if they could become some quaint little family or something. Her relationship with Matthew was employee to employer. If she was blessed to become Matthew’s friend, as well, that would be great, but it wasn’t the most important thing. Caring for Elizabeth was.

  Even that was only temporary.

  Haley’s heart squeezed over the thought as she glanced at the child sitting on the floor. Elizabeth was already playing again with the dolls she was supposed to be putting away. How could Haley bear to ever leave that sweet little girl or the child’s father, who needed Haley more than he realized?

  Matthew had asked her to commit for only thirty days, and they were already into the third week of their agreement. Time was ticking away too quickly. He’d already told her he would be seeking a permanent replacement. She should be looking for another job for that eventuality, but she couldn’t bring herself to search the want ads. She wanted this job, wanted to work with this child, and she wanted to do it for as many years as they needed her.

  For the first time in her life, she was doing something important. It didn’t even matter that she was using little of the formal learning she’d gained in her long and varied higher-education process. She’d never felt more valuable in any of her other jobs, the ones that were supposed to offer growth potential. Elizabeth Warren had all kinds of growth potential, and Haley wanted to be there to share in all of it.

  Maybe Matthew would even let her have that opportunity. He’d already said he trusted her to care for Elizabeth, and she suspected it was hard for him to trust anyone. She wanted to honor that trust by giving Elizabeth the best care she knew how.

  Haley was invested in this family. Sometimes when she was playing with Elizabeth, she forgot, at least for a few seconds, why she’d returned to Markston and her homelessness and lack of employment that had forced her to stay. Now she wanted to stay.

  If only she could convince Matthew to keep her on as Elizabeth’s permanent caregiver, the situation would be great for all involved. Earlier today, she had an idea how to make her case: she would make herself indispensable to him by doing some household duties in addition to providing child care. When Matthew had called earlier to say he was stuck in court for the evening, she’d decided to put her plan into action.

  Only now she was having second thoughts, particularly since her June Cleaver daydream had fallen flat. Just because she and Elizabeth had fallen into a natural relationship didn’t mean she had the skills to be a domestic engineer.

  The cooking was great in theory. Too bad she’d had so little practice at it. She regretted having always taken a restroom pass every time her mother tried to conduct a home-cooking class. Haley was a master of ordering takeout, but somehow she doubted that would impress Matthew.

  No more time for second thoughts, she decided, as she heard Matthew’s car in the drive. Even if keeping this job mattered more than she’d ever thought any job should, all she could do was present her case. The rest would be up to him.

  Matthew scraped the remaining cheesy pasta noodles off the bottom of the saucepan where they’d burned to a nasty brown. Though he wondered if it was going to take a belt sander to clean the bottom of the pan, he was determined not to laugh. He’d managed to choke down two whole servings of her dinner of boxed macaroni combined with canned tuna and frozen peas, even though it tasted like a barbecue gone wrong.

  All through dinner, he’d been praying that God would keep Elizabeth quiet so she wouldn’t announce that dinner was terrible and refuse to eat it. The child had only said that it tasted funny and then had eaten all of her small serving, so Matthew considered it an answer to prayer.

  Haley might not be the best cook in the world, but she’d earned an E for “effort” tonight. He appreciated that effort, too. For one day, he hadn’t been responsible for everything. He’d been able to pull up a chair and dig into a meal he didn’t have to cook. Okay, the food had been barely edible, but it was the thought that counted, and it counted for a lot.

  “Daddy, I’m all clean,” Elizabeth said as she rode into the room on Haley’s back. The child was dressed warmly in her lavender footed pajamas, and her damp hair was combed back from her face.

  It hardly surprised Matthew that the two of them charged into the room as a horse and jockey. This was the Haley he’d come to know over the past few weeks. If Haley and his daughter had not been playing a game of pretend when they returned from Elizabeth’s bath, that would have surprised him more.

  “I sank boats in the bathtub,” his daughter announced as Haley lowered her to the ground.

  “That sounds like fun.” He couldn’t help smiling as he watched them together, the horse and rider both caught in a fit of giggles.

  Haley l
ooked just the same as she did most days, wearing one of her many college sweatshirts—this time it read “Indiana State”—but somehow she seemed different to him tonight. Was she truly different, or had he changed in how he viewed her?

  Strangely though, what he first had described as flightiness seemed more like spontaneity now, and the immaturity he’d pointed out before, he would now be tempted to call a fun-loving spirit. Had he softened? He wasn’t sure, but he did realize he’d been too quick to judge her.

  The thought that he might be attracted to Haley teased him, but he squashed it. Even if he was in the market for a relationship and even if their families weren’t too close for him to risk the awkwardness of a potential breakup, he still wouldn’t choose someone like Haley. Someone too similar to his ex-wife for him to ever trust her to stick around. Even if she didn’t decide to go back to college as she was considering, she would find some other adventure to take her away from Markston.

  If either of those things weren’t enough to push his risky thoughts right out of his mind, then he had only to think of Elizabeth. Her needs had to come first. No matter what feelings he might be tempted to have for Haley, he couldn’t risk allowing Elizabeth to be hurt when Haley left. And she would leave.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Haley started pushing up her sleeves as she came behind him.

  He had been scraping the pan into the garbage, but he shoved the can back below the sink and closed the cabinet door. Pouring some liquid soap into the pan, he filled it with suds.

  “No, you cooked. Anyway, I’m about finished. This just needs to soak.”

  “Are we going to make Easter eggs tonight, Daddy?”

  Elizabeth already had the refrigerator door open and was pulling out a carton of eggs.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Matthew called out, but Haley beat him to his daughter, deftly removing the carton from the child’s hands.

  “Whoa. We want to be careful, or we’ll drop those,” she said.

  “Sorry, sweetie.” He shook his head, wiping his hands on a towel. “Not tonight. It’s already too late, and you have to get to bed.”

  “But you promised,” Elizabeth wailed.

  Matthew steadied himself, determined to keep the upper hand in the situation. “Yes, I promised that we’ll paint Easter eggs sometime before Easter Sunday. I didn’t promise to do it tonight.”

  He waited for Haley to argue with him, to suggest that he give in to his daughter’s demands, but she only put the eggs back in the refrigerator and closed the door.

  “I guess you have some decisions to make in the next few days so you’ll be ready to color eggs,” Haley told her. “Like whether you want to have solid-colored eggs or striped eggs. And whether you’d like to draw designs on the eggs before you dye them. Maybe if you’ll want to use stickers or stamps.”

  “Wow, I didn’t realize there were so many choices,” he said. No matter what thoughts he’d been having about Haley, he couldn’t help being impressed by how easily she had distracted his daughter from her frustration by offering her limited choices. Some of the techniques for dealing with children that he’d learned by trial and error came so easily to Haley.

  “I want stripes,” Elizabeth said finally, her lip still quivering.

  “You take your time,” Matthew said, playing along with Haley. “But while you’re thinking, you should also decide whether you want to color eggs here or at Grammy’s.”

  Elizabeth didn’t skip a beat. “Can Miss Haley color eggs with us?”

  Matthew swallowed. No, this wasn’t the way this conversation was supposed to go.

  “Please, Daddy. It will be fun.”

  What was he supposed to say now? He was willing to risk the tantrum Elizabeth might throw if he shot down her idea, but if he did say no, it might suggest that he was uncomfortable being around Haley himself. He wasn’t ready to admit that. He tried another tack instead.

  “I’m sure she’ll be too busy for that…with the wedding gifts she still needs to return and all.” It didn’t seem nice reminding Haley of her wedding, but a man had to do what a man had to do. “We can ask her though.”

  “Do you want to, Miss Haley?”

  “I’d love to.” Haley grinned at the child before turning to Matthew. “Oh, didn’t I tell you that we finished shipping all the gifts by the time my sisters went home? Our mother didn’t want to offend Miss Manners with any delay.”

  “Oh. Well, good, then.” He wondered if Miss Manners would appreciate his invoking thoughts of Haley’s broken engagement in order to avoid a social situation. He didn’t feel all that great about it.

  He reached down to brush Elizabeth’s damp hair. “It’s time for you to go to bed, little missy.”

  The whine he was conditioned to expect came right away, but Matthew scooped his daughter up and headed toward the stairs. Stopping as he crossed from the kitchen to the hall that led to the stairs, he turned back to Haley.

  “Hey, if you want to wait a few minutes, we can have coffee or something.”

  At Haley’s surprised expression, he added, “I just thought it would be nice to have some adult conversation.”

  She appeared skeptical, but she nodded anyway. Perhaps guilt was a part of his invitation, but he found he didn’t regret it. Haley had been nice to make dinner for his family, and he wanted to make it up to her. Of course he couldn’t allow himself to be attracted to her, but it was about time that he was more of a friend to her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Haley glanced up when Matthew returned to the kitchen, and she gripped her mug of coffee to warm her hands. “How did it go?”

  “She was out like a light.” He snapped his fingers. “Thanks for staying.”

  “I like adult conversation as much as the next gal,” she said with a shrug.

  He gestured toward the coffee machine. “I see you already made coffee.”

  “I figured I’d make myself useful. It’s decaf. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be up all night. I have enough trouble sleeping lately.”

  His intense stare then made her feel uncomfortable. Just what had he seen when he’d looked so deeply?

  With her fingertip, Haley traced the rose pattern on the side of her cup. “Nice dishes.”

  “Wedding gifts. When your spouse takes off and leaves no forwarding address, you get to keep everything.”

  “Oh, bonus,” she said without enthusiasm.

  Finally, he took a sip of his coffee. “Hey, this is good. Really good.”

  “Surprised?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “No. It’s just that it’s decaf and…” He let his words end abruptly as she sat grinning at him.

  “Don’t worry about it. I know my coffee’s better than my cooking.”

  “What are you talking about? The dinner you made was perfectly—”

  “Lousy?”

  “No, it was—”

  “Terrible? Nauseating?”

  Matthew frowned at her. “If you would stop interrupting me, I would have the chance to say that it was perfectly fine.”

  “If you’ve been held hostage for six months and haven’t eaten anything but rice and water.”

  “I was thinking more of if you’ve had a crazy day at work, it was nice to come home to a cooked meal.”

  Haley opened her mouth, but she couldn’t think of a way to answer that.

  He threw his hands wide. “Okay, I admit it. Yours wasn’t the best dinner I’ve ever eaten, but I do appreciate the effort. I also appreciate that the house looks great, too. Thanks for that.”

  “You noticed?”

  “Of course I noticed. I’m a detail man. Well, I usually am.”

  She studied him for a few seconds, his comment seeming odd. “Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve been too caught up in my own child-care drama and schedules to even think about what a tough time you’ve been going through lately.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I just thought that you
might be ready to talk about what happened to someone besides your mother and sisters.”

  Haley tilted her head to the side, his interest surprising her. “You mean to someone who isn’t going to say I told you so?”

  “They said that?”

  “They did tell me so. All three of them. I wouldn’t listen.”

  “Well, it’s in poor taste to point that out now.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to have someone on her side, even if he probably wasn’t serious. “You know my family. Nothing’s off-limits.”

  “So, what happened with…” he paused, as if straining his memory for a name.

  “Tom. Your mom already told you the story, right?”

  “I’ve only heard the highlights.”

  “There’s not much to tell. He’s not an animal or anything. He just wrote that he didn’t think we were right for each other.”

  “You weren’t if he could give up so easily.”

  “I guess, but he could have timed the breakup better.”

  Matthew took a long drink of his coffee before he spoke again. “There’s never a good time for a breakup, but I’ll tell you this. Any breakup before the wedding is better than one that comes after it.”

  His words made her heart ache for him, a strange feeling since she’d spent much of her time lately feeling sorry for herself. “I’m sorry about your divorce.”

  “That’s ancient history,” he said with a shrug. “We were talking about you here.”

  “Were we?”

  He gave her an exaggerated frown. “I was trying. Now let me do this again. Do you think there’s a chance for a reconciliation?”

  His serious expression kept her from continuing the joke. “I don’t think so. It’s been twenty-one days since I received the letter, and he hasn’t called. Not to return the boxes of clothes I’d already sent to his apartment or even to get the receipt for the wedding bands.”