by Lyn Cote
Chapter Six
The threesome broke up after dinner, and Pete now drove up to Eleanor’s neat house with detached garage. He approved of her choice of home. She’d bought one of those solidly built, sixties ranches. He admired the stonework around the lower half of the exterior. He cut the engine and sat back. The twilight sunshine lingered around them, golden, nearly thick enough to touch. He didn’t know what to think about Mike dropping in on them at Hidden Lake. What had Eleanor thought of that?
Usually Mike’s and his tastes in women didn’t coincide. Why am I thinking that? Since Suzann left me, I’ve been distancing myself from women, especially young, single women. But it’s normal for me to notice a beautiful woman. However, I can’t mislead a woman, especially this woman. His thoughts chased themselves around in his mind. How could he sort this all out?
Eleanor cleared her throat. “You and I already discussed that I’m not interested in having a relationship right now after two failed engagements. And maybe never, with my track record…?. I mean—you met Rick.” Eleanor fell silent, her soft mouth twisting into an unhappy line.
Relationship? Why was she bringing this up again? Was it because of Mike barging in this evening? And making it look like they were jockeying for her attention? Since he didn’t know what to say, he made a sound of nominal agreement.
She had lowered her chin, and he had to resist the urge to lift it, if only to enjoy gazing at her. He didn’t like to see her downcast like this. “What is it?” he murmured.
Her head came up, but she didn’t turn toward him. “There is another particular reason that I can’t give time to a relationship right now.”
Pete considered asking her what this reason could be. But should he become more involved in this woman’s life, even as a friend? Then he recalled the courtroom scene and Danny Miller’s mother’s confidences about how kind Eleanor had been to her. Yes, he wanted to know why a good person like Eleanor was as anti-relationship as he. Finally, he asked cautiously, “Do you want to share what that is?”
She slid her back against the pickup door, facing him. The evening breeze wafted in, stirring her hair. The twilight sun made her hair shine with gold highlights. “I haven’t told anybody other than Mavis so far. But I plan on adopting a child from the foster care system.”
Of all the things he might have expected her to say, this wasn’t it. Though he really had no idea what he had expected her to reveal. However, this triggered a memory, one that sent a wave of sharp pain through him.
“Biological clock ticking?” he muttered archly, mimicking his ex-wife’s stated reason for wanting to start their family. The family she had rejected so swiftly, so easily when she found motherhood demanded more than she wanted to give. A sharply painful memory flashed within—his wife folding a pillow around her ears to block the sound of Nicky screaming with colic.
“Probably.” She shrugged. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
Pete closed his mouth, sorting through the blasts of his own suffering and regret that ricocheted through him. This is Eleanor, not Suzann. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“I don’t think I’m going to marry.” She gave a wry smile, answering his next question. “At least not in the near future. I want to be a mother, love a child who needs love.”
Her tender tone and sincere words touched Pete more deeply than he would have expected. Giving into impulse, he took her hand. “You’ll be a great mom.”
Tears sprang to Eleanor’s eyes. She looked away, no doubt to hide them. But she didn’t withdraw her hand from his. “Thank you.”
“Have you begun the process of adoption yet?” he asked.
She turned back to him and smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Yes, I have an interview this week. For now this has to be my focus in my personal life.”
“Great.” He squeezed her hand and then withdrew his, resisting the tempting urge to pull her closer. He breathed easier. “I hope you’ll keep me posted. And you can be Cassie’s friend. I was being overly cautious.”
Her smile broadened. “I can’t deny that her choosing me to be her special friend gave me extra confidence to proceed with this. I’ve never been around children much. I was an only child, and so were both of my parents, so I don’t even have cousins.”
“Wow,” he muttered.
She chuckled. “I know you have a huge family. I found that out when I looked for your number and saw all the Becks in the phone book.”
He chuckled then. “Yeah, we’re a prolific bunch and have stayed tied to the land. Our ancestor, who is my namesake, Peter Beck, arrived from Baden-Baden, Germany, in 1846, and he bought the land that my dad still farms.”
“Wow,” she said. “That’s unusual.”
“I broke free for a time. Went to school in Las Vegas and then settled there.” He stopped then, not wanting to go into why he’d come home with his tail between his legs and two little babies in his arms. He swallowed that down once more.
“I was born and raised in Madison and never strayed far. My parents taught at University of Wisconsin there,” Eleanor said, opening her purse and pulling out her keys. “Now I owe you a Fish Fry sometime. Don’t forget.”
He didn’t like her mentioning this. “What’s a Fish Fry between friends?” he asked.
She laughed at this, opened her door, and left with a friendly, “Good night!” and a wave.
He watched till she got inside and then he turned backed down the driveway. This evening had given him a lot to think about—Mike’s interest in Eleanor and his own clinging to the past. Time to break free. He still couldn’t believe that Eleanor had ever been engaged to a big bag of wind like Rick. Sheesh.
After last night’s Fish Fry threesome, Pete eyed Mike with misgiving the next afternoon, Saturday, at the Habitat site. Clouds scudded overhead, heralding another storm front approaching faster than predicted. Humidity had zoomed. The sound of hammers and nail guns punctuated the hum of voices.
Kevan arrived with another man with the same build as Kevan but with salt and pepper hair and a lined face. “Hey, Pete!” Kevan called out, “Come meet my uncle Dex!”
Pete shook the man’s hand. “Hi, Dex, glad you could come.”
“My pleasure,” Dex replied with a friendly grin. “I know which end of a hammer to hold. What’s there for me to do?”
Pete led them over to a group that was framing walls.
After noon, Mike had closed his shop for the weekend, arrived and gravitated to Pete. Now they were laying the subfloor. Mike did not look happy; Pete did not feel happy. Pete was the eldest and Mike the next son, so they had been rivals as children. But never before as adults. And never over a woman. That’s why this feels so odd.
How can I say I’m not trying to start something with Eleanor? And furthermore that she isn’t interested in starting anything with anyone? How could he get that across to Mike without sounding…conceited. How to put this situation into words baffled Pete.
Fortunately, navigating the floor joists, carrying subflooring didn’t give them a chance to talk much. Finally, they both stopped for a drink of water from a large, plastic cooler and sat on the grass under a tree.
“So you took Eleanor home last night?” Mike muttered, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
Pete wondered how he should respond and decided to be frank. “I’m not trying to start something with her.”
Mike humphed.
“I’m not.” Pete decided to go further. “And we had an embarrassing moment at the resort.”
“Oh?”
“Ran into a guy she’d been engaged to once.”
“Ouch.” Mike crinkled up his face.
“I think she’s been burned bad.”
Mike glanced at Pete. “You think she’s gun-shy?”
Pete nodded. “Seriously.”
“I don’t think we’d really be a good match, but she’s a woman no man should take lightly.”
Mike’s words struck Pete as absolutely true.
“Hey,” Mike replied, rising.
Pete stood and studied her face. Something was worrying her, and he didn’t like that.
“Can either of you think of a way to keep this project moving?”
“What do you mean?” Pete asked.
Her mouth drew down into a deep frown. “Rain is predicted every day starting tomorrow. We need to get the roof up, but it’s not possible if we can’t stay dry long enough to get the ceiling joists and the roof sheeting up.”
A raindrop plunked on Pete’s nose.
All three of them looked up and groaned in unison.
Eleanor turned and shouted, “Get the tarps! Rain!”
Rain pelted down as the volunteers quickly covered all the materials and the shell of a house with heavy plastic tarps. Pete hurried to do his part, and a germ of an idea came to him. But he’d have to find out if it would work and see if he could get permission. He wanted to keep this project moving, but most of all, he wanted to make life easier for Eleanor.
Eleanor wished her stomach would stop swirling like a washing machine on Agitate. Why did everything have to be perfect today? My parents and Mavis are coming for lunch. What’s the big deal? The big deal was today she wanted to persuade her parents that she was just as capable at home as in the courtroom. And this would be their first visit since they’d retired to Arizona and the first time they visited her in this house.
But of course, her nerves jumped today because she might tell them about her adoption plans. Dear Lord, help me focus. Or at least breathe.
Buzzing with tension, she bustled around her kitchen, recipes spread out on the counter. Whole wheat rotini bubbled on the stove top, as did eggs. Her menu included all her parents’ favorite summer foods: deviled eggs, cantaloupe and pasta salad with chickpeas. Chicken breasts were marinating in the fridge to be grilled later.
A vigorous rapping sounded on her back door. She glanced at the clock. Her guests were early. “Come in!” she called out, shoving down her nervousness. Or trying to.
Pete walked in the back door. “Eleanor!”
She nearly dropped the spoon she was stirring in the boiling rotini. “Pete?”
“I got a great idea—”
The sound of car doors slamming outside interrupted him. The back door opened.
“Eleanor!” her father, John, called out.
“Dad!” Eleanor set down the spoon, gave Pete an apologetic smile and hurried to the back door.
Her father’s long legs made short work of the back hall. He embraced her. “Eleanor!”
She wrapped her arms around her silver-haired dad and breathed in the scent of Old Spice aftershave, the fragrance that always meant “Dad.”
Her tall, long-limbed mother, Delia, who wore her thick salt-and-pepper hair pulled back severely into a long tail, appeared behind him. “Eleanor,” she said in that controlled way of hers.
Eleanor stepped back from her father and accepted the hand her mother offered. “Mother.”
“You’re looking well,” Delia said, not looking at Eleanor but at Pete through her gold-rimmed glasses.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were having family over today,” Pete said, edging toward the doorway now blocked by her mother.
“Don’t run off,” John said, offering his hand to Pete. “I’m John, Eleanor’s dad.”
Pete shook John’s hand.
“I’m Delia,” her mother said, merely nodding and then pressing her lips together.
Suddenly Eleanor bristled. Pete had every right to drop in. Why did her mother always “freeze” any man she thought Eleanor might be interested in? You married, Mother. Why am I supposed to be Ms. Super-Feminist Career Woman and stay single? “This is Pete Beck,” Eleanor said, making the introductions as smoothly as silk.
Though she didn’t want a man in her life right now, she wouldn’t let her mother think she couldn’t have one if she wanted one. “Pete’s the building-trades teacher at the local high school, and he’s one of my main volunteers at the final Habitat site.”
“Great,” John said, smiling. He moved to the counter and leaned against it. “Teaching young men—”
“And young women, I hope,” Delia interrupted tartly.
“—and young women,” John added agreeably, “to work with their hands must be very satisfying.”
“I like it. It’s a challenge.” Pete looked quizzically at Delia, who was still studying him with a frown. “And I did have two female students this last year. Power tools make a big difference. There are some jobs that are harder for females, and some easier. They can fit in tight places better than most guys.”
Eleanor could have kissed Pete for his common sense reply. Her mother’s feminism often reached the grating level.
“And our Eleanor has certainly proven that a woman can get a house built,” Delia said briskly. “Two in a year, in fact.”
At this uncommon compliment from her mother, shock and pleasure vied within Eleanor.
“Yeah, Eleanor keeps us all moving, and we need to,” Pete agreed. “However, we’ve had a rainy summer so far. That’s delayed us.”
Eleanor turned to the stove to check on her pasta.
“Eleanor, that’s why I came today,” Pete continued. “I called the school—”
Another car door slammed and the back door opened. “It’s me, Mavis! Sorry I’m late!” Mavis joined the kitchen gathering.
Eleanor had a small kitchen but now it had become standing room only. “Hi, Auntie.”
“Pete?” Mavis said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude on a family gathering,” Pete said. “But this saves me calling you, Mavis. I have time this week to come over and inspect your house. Which afternoon is best for you?”
“Any afternoon except Monday. Your mom is taking us to a flea market farther north. Some town…” Mavis paused, obviously trying to recall the name.
Eleanor caught her mother looking at Pete’s hand. For a wedding band? Or a white line where one had been? Eleanor steamed.
“St. Germain,” Pete supplied. “Mom loves that flea market. Every Monday.” Pete turned to Eleanor. “I’ll call you later,” he murmured.
The roar of a motorcycle interrupted him, sounding loud and near.
All their heads swung toward the driveway-side window.
“Hey!” Mike roared as he opened the back door. “Is that Pete’s pickup parked at the curb?” Mike filled the doorway, and the small kitchen seemed to shrink further.
“Hi, Mike!” Eleanor called out over the crowd between them. “I thought I recognized that Harley engine.”
“Hey, Eleanor! You got a crowd here.” Mike leaned against the doorjamb of the back hall.
“Why don’t we seniors,” Mavis said, gesturing toward the doorway, “move into the living room or outside?”
Now her mother was scrutinizing Mike, and Eleanor nearly chuckled. Mike, with his Harley T-shirt and leather wristbands, didn’t apologize for who he was. Eleanor liked that about him.
The stove timer dinged. Turning her back to everyone, she lifted the large pot off the stove. She set the pot on a trivet and sampled the pasta. “Al dente.” She quickly poured the noodles and boiled eggs into the colander in the sink, hoping when she looked up the kitchen would have cleared out.
It hadn’t.
“What can I do for you, Mike?” Eleanor asked brightly.
“Nothin’ special. Just saw Pete’s pickup here and wanted to ask him something.” Mike waved a large hand toward his brother.
“Excuse me.” Pete hurried past Mavis to his brother. The two of them went outside.
Eleanor realized both her parents were staring at her. She looked at Mavis, who just chuckled. Eleanor needed some space to breathe. She asked, “Why don’t you all just go out and find a comfortable chair—”
Another car door slammed outside.
Eleano
r began to feel a bit dazed. Usually her little house sat silent with only her own footsteps sounding on the hardwood floors.
The back door opened. “Hello!”
Eleanor recognized Kevan Paxton’s voice. “Come in, Kevan!”
But Jenelle with Tiesha in hand appeared first. “So sorry to drop in on you. I didn’t realize that you were entertaining.”
“No problem,” Eleanor said. She introduced Jenelle, Tiesha, Kevan and his Uncle Dex, who greeted everybody, although his gaze settled on Mavis.
“We won’t stay. We’re just showing Dex around our new hometown,” Kevan said.
Eleanor wondered if Mavis was aware of the way Dex was looking at her. She must be, because she was trying not to look at Dex.
Then—unbelievably—another car door slammed somewhere outside. Please, Lord, let it be at my neighbor’s. But she recognized the feminine voice outside.
Mavis grinned sheepishly.
The back door opened and little feet in flip-flops raced inside. “Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie!” Cassie ignored the other adults and went straight to Eleanor. The little girl held up her hands.
Naturally, Eleanor swung her up. “Cassie? What a nice surprise. Why are you here?” She grinned at Pete’s daughter, her heart expanding.
“Grandma’s got something for you.” Cassie looked to Eleanor’s father. “Hi.” Cassie waved at him. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” John took her hand in his and greeted her warmly. “You are a pretty little girl. Just like little Tiesha.”
“Thank you!” Cassie crowed. Then she glimpsed her friend and squirmed down to run to her.
Pete’s mother, Kerry Ann, strolled inside, wearing a pair of blue shorts and a green Hodag T-shirt. “Eleanor, I heard you were having your parents over for a cookout so I brought you some salad fixings from my garden.” Kerry Ann held up an oak basket overflowing with leaf lettuce, fresh spinach, green onions and endive. “I even have a few early cherry tomatoes from my greenhouse.”