by Susan Floyd
“Glenn!” Beth Ann couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice, though she knew she would have a heck of a time getting those words out of Bernie’s vocabulary.
“Wight now!” Bernie added with an imperious note in her voice.
Christian took a deep breath. Even with the baby lisp, she had Caroline’s intonation. With her blue eyes sparkling at the new concept of control, her face had an expression he had seen often on Caroline, especially when she was speaking to one of the servants.
“Bernie,” Beth Ann said sternly. “Pop-pop is wrong. You don’t say, ‘right now!’ You say ‘please’ if someone is going to do something nice for you. And you say thank you to Uncle Christian for sharing his eggs with you.”
“Peas, Mommy?” Bernie said sweetly, her face wrinkling in smiles.
“And thank you to Uncle Christian for sharing his eggs with you.”
Bernie ignored that and hunted down a stray piece of apple on her tray.
Christian watched Beth Ann pour the batter onto the griddle, finding her efficient movements surprisingly attractive. She looked like she had done it a million times. She rummaged through the refrigerator for eggs and pulled out two. After she cracked them in the bowl, he noticed she discarded the shells not in the garbage but in a large container next to the sink that overflowed with vegetable and other organic refuse obviously headed for a compost pile. The flattened check, a sharp reminder of the night before, poked out from under a heap of green strawberry tops. Christian felt a small twinge. It was probably where it belonged.
With his senses of sight, hearing and smell all heightened, Christian felt the pleasant atmosphere of this kitchen soothe away the torture of the night before. He found his mouth watering as he waited. Soon, Beth Ann pushed toward him a plate of eggs and an impressive stack of pancakes. Glenn passed him a bowl of fruit salad.
“Deggs!” Bernie reminded him, her blue eyes fixed on his eggs.
Christian looked at his plate, not quite certain what he should do.
“Just give her a corner.”
He cut off a corner and put it on her tray.
“Tank you,” Bernie said to him with a flutter of her dark lashes.
Christian was touched.
“She is adorable, isn’t she?” Glenn commented.
“The most brilliant baby in the world,” Christian agreed.
Iris laughed. “I knew we liked him.”
“Careful,” Beth Ann said to Bernie. “It’s hot.”
Bernie poked a tiny finger at the eggs. “Ott.” She waited a millisecond and poked it again. “Not ott.”
“Okay. If it’s not hot, then you can eat it. Christian, do you need anything?” She pushed two bottles toward him and plopped a tub of butter next to him. “This one’s maple syrup and the other is wild raspberry syrup.”
Glenn added, “She makes the stuff herself from raspberries as big as walnuts.”
“The butter’s fresh, too, from the dairy down the road,” Iris said proudly.
Christian slowly took his first bite of pancakes with homemade raspberry syrup and real butter. He closed his eyes. Culinary heaven. Taste was a wonderful sense, he thought reflectively as he took another bite. He watched as Beth Ann scooped out a generous portion of the fruit salad, mostly strawberries, peaches and apricots.
“Cantaloupes don’t ripen until the end of the month,” she said apologetically. “Eat up!”
Christian ate ravenously, not having realized how very hungry he was. It felt like the first meal he had ever eaten.
“You want more?” she asked once he’d cleaned his plate. “There’s more batter for pancakes.”
“No, thank you. That was enough.” It was more than enough. If last night had robbed his soul of whatever reality he’d thought he’d shared with Caroline, this breakfast of homemade pancakes and fresh plump fruit, accompanied by genuine laughter and affection, fed him something more precious than food.
Beth Ann felt a wave of contentment wash through her. This was her idea of a perfect morning. Iris was in full control of her faculties, Bernie was sweet and happy, Glenn provided his usual wit and even Christian sat at her kitchen table as if he had done it his entire life, as if the tension that had crackled between them last night had never existed. She stood up and started to clear the table, watching her daughter carefully.
Bernie had worked her way through almost half of Christian’s eggs, and Beth Ann noticed tenderly, that he didn’t eat the rest. Instead, he cut them in small pieces and let Bernie reach out and take the bits from his plate. Yet another bad habit Beth Ann would need to monitor.
Caroline had been so wrong about him. What had made her think Christian wouldn’t give this child his name? Beth Ann frowned, cautioning herself. She didn’t know for sure whether he was even the biological father. If he was, Caroline certainly wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble and secrecy to keep a pregnancy from him, would she? She started when Christian came up behind her, bearing a stack of plates.
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” she said hastily.
“I don’t mind,” he said, rolling up the sleeves on his fine silk shirt. As he began to rinse the dishes, he glanced around for a dishwasher.
“You’re looking at her,” Beth Ann laughed.
“Move over. I’ll wash, you can dry.” Christian gently bumped her out of the way.
Beth Ann felt her heart accelerate. It was a small movement, just a soft bump, hip to hip. Glenn bumped her all the time, but she’d never felt this strong attraction to him. When she looked up, she found Christian staring down at her, his gray eyes unreadable, the lines of his face softening. She squelched the emotions that warmed her chest and throat, grabbing a towel to wipe her hands.
This was Carrie’s husband.
She shouldn’t be having feelings for or anything else intimate with Carrie’s husband. If Carrie were still alive, he would be Beth Ann’s brother-in-law. Since Carrie hated doing dishes, she no doubt would be avoiding the chore, and her husband would simply be covering for her. Beth Ann resisted the impulse to run her hand down his back and feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“You do that like a pro,” she commented.
“Military school. Had to do a lot of dishes. Bathrooms, too.”
“Just because?” She hadn’t been wrong about the military turn. That bit of information explained the rigid control he had over his expressions and emotions.
But the control was not evident now.
“No.” He gave her a mischievous grin and a quick wink and her heart fluttered. “I got into a lot of trouble, which was exacerbated by a really hard head. Spent many an afternoon peeling potatoes or scrubbing out the latrines. Those skills come in handy once in a while. If you’re impressed with this, I do a great toilet.”
Beth Ann laughed appreciatively, ducking her head, her ears hot. She couldn’t believe she was flirting. “You’re hired.” She looked over her shoulder and noticed the only person remaining in the kitchen was Bernie, who looked at her inquiringly.
“Yes, it’s time to sit on Mrs. Potty.” Beth Ann was relieved to move away from him, his clean smell.
“Mrs. Potty,” Bernie repeated.
After wiping down Bernie’s face and stripping off her pajamas, Beth Ann sat Bernie down on the small potty with Fluff and a book. Bernie looked at the pictures for about two minutes and then said, “I done.”
Beth Ann gave her a skeptical glance. “Already?”
Bernie nodded. “I done.”
Beth Ann went over, surprised to find Bernie was indeed done. “Wow, Bernie-Bern-Bern. That was quick.”
“Kik.” Bernie looked up and smiled. “Go garden?”
“We’ll see. First we have to find out when Pop-pop has to leave. Then, we’ll open that letter and see if Mommy has a show.”
Christian was finishing up the last of the dishes and couldn’t help eavesdropping. “You have a show?”
Beth Ann made a face as she put a
clean diaper on Bernie. “Maybe. I’ve sent slides. I got a letter a few days ago.” She left the room with the potty and Bernie trailing behind her.
“Bye, bye, poo-poo,” he heard Bernie say. Then the toilet flushed. They appeared a few minutes later. The potty cleaned, their hands washed.
“And you didn’t rip it open immediately?” Christian asked curiously.
“What?” Beth Ann asked.
“The letter.”
Beth Ann looked away, her face flushing. “No. I’ve been busy.” She looked at Bernie. “Go get your clothes, sweetie. On your box.”
Christian watched in amazement as Bernie toddled off. “She understands you, doesn’t she?”
Beth Ann nodded. “Very much so. Just because she’s not articulate, doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand.”
“Are you going to open it?”
Beth Ann looked stressed at the idea. “It’s not that important. I haven’t been in it for a while.”
“It?”
She nodded. “The art circuit. This isn’t much. Just five spaces in a hotel lobby.” She made another face.
Christian thought he understood. “But that’s a good start, isn’t it?” He was thinking about his mother’s connections to some galleries in San Diego and then caught himself. He didn’t even know if she had any talent.
Beth Ann said noncommittally, “I guess.”
“So where is the letter?” Christian pressed on.
Beth Ann went to the china cabinet and dug through the mail. “Here.” She held up the slender envelope. Bernie came back with two pair of pants. “I need a shirt, too, Bernie. Go get a shirt.”
Christian watched as Bernie ran off, her little feet pounding on the hardwood. A second or two later, she reappeared, this time clutching a red San Francisco Giants T-shirt.
“So open it.”
Beth Ann sighed and ripped it open, her dark eyes quickly scanning the short letter, a frown creasing her forehead. Christian wondered what he could do to smooth that frown away. She looked up at him and said, “Well, that was fun.”
Christian watched Beth Ann’s expressive face. In just the few hours he’d spent with her, he’d seen the range of emotions she was capable of. Now, she pressed her lips together and was apparently fighting the urge to cry.
“What’d it say?” he asked cautiously.
Beth Ann looked up as if she had forgotten he was in the room.
“Bad news?” He didn’t want her to get bad news. He wanted her to get good news, so that her face would light up and she’d flash him those dimples.
Beth Ann blinked rapidly to hold back her tears. Obviously, she didn’t want him to see her like this. “Not good.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. Throwing the letter in the garbage, she turned her attention to Bernie who waited patiently. “Let’s get the Bern-Bern dressed.” She crouched down to Bernie’s level.
“Not good? About your paintings?”
“I think the word they used was tired.”
“Ouch,” Christian winced. She was clearly hurt. “So does this mean your paintings don’t get shown?”
“Well, no,” she admitted reluctantly. She pulled the letter out of the garbage and read it again as Bernie pulled up her pants. “Not exactly.”
“What does not exactly mean?”
“They hated the paintings.”
She thrust the letter at him and he took it and read it.
“Yes,” Christian agreed. He winced. They were blunt in their criticism, but there was a spark of hope. “But it says if you can get them some more slides by July first they’ll give you another chance. Something fresh. That sounds like good news. It’s over a month from now.”
“Good news?” Beth Ann laughed weakly. “That’s only good news if you have something fresh to send.”
“You don’t?”
Beth Ann’s face closed up again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She took the letter back, put it in the garbage again, then started to pull Bernie’s shirt over her head. After several fierce tugs, the shirt still wouldn’t go on and Beth Ann yanked it off in frustration.
“I’m surprised.”
“What?” she asked distractedly. “Bernie, you grew too big. We need another shirt. Go get one in the basket.”
Christian watched Bernie take off down the hall and then lowered his voice. “I’m surprised you’re not even going to try.”
“I don’t have anything new and I don’t have child care. I don’t have time.” Her voice was flat.
“Glenn?” Christian glanced down the hall.
“Glenn’s working on a mural. I can’t ask him to give up his career so I can jump-start mine—” Then she whispered fiercely, “And I don’t want him to know about this.”
She crossed the room and Christian saw the tightness in her shoulders. There must be a solution. He spotted the check in the compost pile, but did he dare?
“Do you need money for child care?” he asked abruptly, controlling the urge to duck when her eyes spit fire at him.
“You don’t understand, do you?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I need two kinds of care. For Bernie and Grans. Even if I had all the money in the world, there’s no one who’s willing to take on both.” She tightened the tie on her robe.
There was someone. Christian’s heart beat faster. Was he out of his mind? In the next few days, he was supposed to be in Napa or at least, heading in that direction. Besides, he couldn’t—she wouldn’t let him.
“Well, there is another option,” he offered anyway.
Beth Ann looked at him skeptically. She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Really?”
“Sure.” Christian’s voice was very casual.
“What?”
There was a long silence. Beth Ann wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. She already felt guilty enough. If she had painted yesterday instead of cleaning, she might be able to say she would have something new to send. But she didn’t. She had no one else to blame but herself and she didn’t want Carrie’s husband looking at her with such compassion.
“I can stay,” he said reasonably.
Beth Ann shook her head. “You’ve got a company to run. Don’t you have an important meeting in Napa?”
Christian was silent for a minute and confessed. “Actually... Well, I’m under orders not to go back to work for three months.”
Beth Ann digested this new piece of information.
“I’ve been overworked,” he explained.
“Surely, you must have other plans.”
“Nothing that can’t be canceled.”
“But—” Beth Ann looked down, thinking furiously. She should just say no. “What about your family and your friends? I’m sure they’ll think you’ve dropped off the face of the earth.”
“I only have one friend and he knows how to get in contact with me,” Christian said placidly.
“Your parents,” she tried.
“The last I heard they were off the coast of Greece and wouldn’t be back until Thanksgiving.”
“You can’t.”
“Yes, I can. I’ll look after Iris and Bernie.”
“Have you ever taken care of a two-year-old?”
Christian shook his head.
“A senile ninety—”
“She’s perfectly fine now.”
“Today, yes.” Even though her heart was telling her to think about it, Beth Ann stated, “I don’t think you can do it.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think I could.” He spoke with such confidence that Beth Ann actually believed him.
“I can’t offer you any compensation.”
“Sure you can,” Christian said deliberately. “You can agree to sign Bernie’s papers when I leave.”
Beth Ann was distracted by a tug on the robe.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy.”
She had forgotten about Bernie, who had returned with another shirt. “Bernie! I’m sorry, sweetie,” Be
th Ann said hurriedly, and pulled the shirt over Bernie’s head. “Last wear on this one, too. You’re getting too big.”
“Too big,” Bernie singsonged.
Christian clicked his tongue impatiently. “So what do you think?” he asked.
Finally, she looked up at him, feeling tears of helplessness gather in the back of her throat. What did she think? She was too exhausted to think. “You’re a stranger. I have no idea why you’re here or what your motives are.” She turned her head away, as the tears slipped from her eyes. She dashed them away angrily.
“Mommy, okay?” Bernie asked, patting Beth Ann’s face.
“Yes, Bernie. Mommy’s okay,” Beth Ann reassured her.
“Mommy, sure?”
“Mommy’s sure. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” Bernie smiled and gave her a big hug.
Beth Ann looked up and saw Christian staring at them intently, and she thought she could tangibly feel the longing in his eyes.
She said roughly, clearing her throat, “Thanks for not letting on to Iris that you met her yesterday.”
He shrugged. “No problem.”
“Bernie, why don’t you go find your brush? I think I saw it on the coffee table.” Beth Ann took a deep breath and shook her head resolutely. “We can’t impose on you.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition,” Christian said firmly. “The doctor said I had to rest—”
“Then this isn’t the place to be.” She tried to smile. “Thank you very much for the kind offer but this is something I need to work out by myself. This is my doing, it’s my choice.”
“Seems like it was Caroline’s,” Christian observed.
Beth Ann stopped what she was doing, surprised at how much his words stung. She might have hit a nerve last night, but he’d found one all his own. She wouldn’t give up Bernie for all the time in the world—but Bernie wasn’t her mistake. She was Carrie’s. It had been Carrie’s choice to leave her daughter and it was Beth Ann’s choice to raise her. Just as it was Beth Ann’s choice to care for Iris. Carrie obviously hadn’t felt any compunction about leaving either. Just like her stepfather.
“We owe you,” Christian said quietly.