by Lyn Cote
“Can you hula hoop?” he asked Eleanor.
“I’ve never tried,” she replied.
“Well, I’ll teach you, then.” Pete handed in a few activity tickets and accepted the first of the colorful hoops.
She laughed. “Better help Jenna and Cassie first.”
Soon he was busy settling the plastic hoops around the girls’ waists. Jenna managed to keep it up for a few minutes, but not a crestfallen Cassie. Pete let Eleanor comfort her.
Eleanor stooped and spoke softly to Cassie. “You’re just too close to the ground yet. When you’re a bit bigger, it will work.”
“Do you still like me?” Cassie asked, glancing at Jenna who was barely keeping her hula hoop above her hips.
“Of course. Nothing can change my liking you. Certainly not a hula hoop.”
“But she—” Cassie swung her head toward Jenna “—can keep it up.”
“She’s taller than you are. That’s all. You’re my Cassie and always will be.” She hugged Cassie. “Now, come on. It’s my turn to try.” Eleanor rose, nodding toward Pete.
Pete dropped a hula hoop over her head. “Let’s see how you do.”
She swung the hoop and began to sway and swing trying to keep it up. Gravity won; she lost. She lifted it again and tried again and again.
Cassie began giggling, and soon everyone was giggling.
Finally, Eleanor gave up, letting the hoop clatter to the grass. “I’ll stick to law.”
The five of them moved on to watch the horseshoe-tossing competition. Clink, clink sounded with each toss. The sky overhead darkened. A hammerhead cloud loomed in the distance towering over the tops of green trees.
Eleanor looked up, worried. “Should we go?”
“Let’s eat, and then if it starts, we’ll head home.”
The potluck buffet stretched over two tables with one additional table, nearly bowed with its load of desserts. Cassie and Nicky appeared to be warming up to Jenna. Soon, they were teasing each other.
Pete ate a grilled brat and munched tangy, barbecue potato chips while Eleanor ate tuna noodle salad and cherry tomatoes dipped in sour cream and chives. She popped one into his mouth and he recalled the day he’d fed her wild, red raspberries.
The dark storm clouds flew at them, closing out the sun. The wind picked up, carrying away unattended foam plates and tossing Eleanor’s long hair around. Lightning flashed; thunder rattled in the distance. They had just discarded their foam plates and cups when the first drops descended. He picked up Cassie while Eleanor ran with Nicky and Jenna, holding their hands. By the time the pickup doors had been slammed, thunder crashed above them.
Picnickers flocked to their cars and pickups. The Paxtons raced past toward their van. Jenelle, almost nine months pregnant, waddled more than ran. Pete sat back listening to the rain pelt the roof. He didn’t start the engine. Too many children were running around unattended, and he didn’t want to make the mistake of not seeing one.
“I wish we could go home and swing on the swing set,” Cassie said, sounding deflated.
“The sun will come out again,” Eleanor said. “We had fun, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, but I’m tired of all this rain,” Nicky said.
“Me, too,” Pete agreed.
“Let’s sing Itsy Bitsy Spider,” Eleanor suggested. She put her fingers together and began singing and moving her fingers like spider legs.
Pete joined in and then the kids began making the hand motions. A few minutes later, Pete felt it was safe to start the drive home. Even with another storm they didn’t need—what a day, a good day. Their first day together, all five of them.
Pete had expected to be able to fall asleep easily, but he couldn’t turn his mind off. Images of Eleanor flitted through his thoughts. Finally, he gave up and went downstairs for a glass of milk.
The phone rang.
He glanced at the clock. Nearly 11:00 p.m. An emergency? He warily lifted the receiver off the wall. “Hello, this is the Beck house.”
“Pete, it’s me. Suzann.”
Chapter Twelve
Pete didn’t know how long he stood mute, too stunned, too shaken to speak.
“Pete? Are you there?”
“Why are you calling me?” Hot anger shoved shock aside. His voice came out low and harsh, hurting his throat.
“I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I had to call.”
“Why?” he spat out the word, his heart pounding in his ears.
“I’m older.” Her voice sounded controlled and neutral as if she’d written this out or rehearsed it. “And have had time to think over what happened between us.”
“So?” Do I care?
“I’m not calling because I want to change the custody arrangement between us or anything like that, but I don’t think it’s good for our children—”
Fury slashed him. “Don’t call them that. You didn’t want them four years ago. You don’t get to call them your children.”
Silence. “I expected you to be angry. But I’m not a monster. I was never meant to be a full-time mother, and I don’t have the patience motherhood needs, but I don’t think it’s good for Cassandra and Nicholas to think that I rejected them.”
His heart congealed. “You did reject them.” And me.
“I couldn’t handle being a mom,” Suzann’s carefully controlled voice continued. “I was overwhelmed, and I think I was suffering from postpartum depression.”
“You might recall at the time,” he added sarcastically, “I asked you to consider that you might be depressed.”
“I know. I made a lot of poor decisions. But I don’t want our children to suffer the rest of their lives because I wasn’t up to being their mother.”
How long did it take you to think of them, not yourself? “What do you want?” he asked shortly, arming himself against her.
“I don’t know, really. I want you to think about how I can be a long-distance mother. May I send cards or presents? May I visit every year and see the kids?”
Pete wanted to slam the receiver down, but he held himself back from acting rashly. This wasn’t just about him. Cassie and Nicky were what mattered. “I’ll have to think about this, Suzann.” Each word cost him; perspiration dotted his forehead. “And there’s someone in my life now.”
“Oh, I see.” Suzann’s voice trailed off. “But that’s good, right? I wasn’t meant to be married, but you were.”
Hot words of recrimination boiled up from deep inside Pete. He choked them down. “Is that all, Suzann?”
“Yes, that’s all. I’ll just leave it at that…till you contact me.”
“Goodbye.” He hung up before he heard her farewell. Still boiling with fury and hurt, he suddenly felt weak at the knees. He braced his hands flat against the kitchen wall, trying to keep his world from spinning out of control. Why did she have to call now?
The next afternoon, just after lunch, a still groggy Pete shuffled out of the kitchen. He hoped he didn’t look as bad as he felt. He’d barely slept at all last night. Thoughts of Suzann, painful memories of his months of caring for his colicky Cassie, bewildered Nicky, whom their own mother didn’t want, swarmed around in his mind.
He walked toward the barn to let his dad know that he had to go to school for a meeting with the principal.
The barn doors flapped open. His dad stalked outside. “I need to talk to you.”
Then Harry led Pete back into the kitchen and waited for Pete to join him, glaring down at the tiny, gray kitten mewing up at him from the wide-plank floor.
The helpless animal and his father’s anger over something so slight made Pete lose his temper. “It’s just a kitten,” he snapped. “You should be thankful every day that you married our mom instead of sniping at her.”
“What’s got into you?” Harry snapped in return.
“Suzann called last night.” Pete slumped into a kitchen chair, depleted by his flash of anger.
His dad gawked at him and then sat down across
from him. “It’s just as well. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What?” Pete couldn’t believe what his dad was saying.
“Suzann calling should be a good reminder to you,” his dad scolded. “You’ve gone and done the same thing again.”
“What?”
“You’ve fallen for another career woman. You even picked out another lawyer, for goodness’ sake. What are you thinking?”
Disbelief vibrating in waves through him, Pete stared at his dad. “Eleanor is not Suzann.”
His dad humphed loud and long. “So you think.”
“Eleanor is not Suzann,” Pete repeated. But in his fatigue and upset, he recognized that Eleanor was outwardly like his ex-wife.
“Eleanor’s a career woman. And look at her own mother. Has about as much warmth in her heart as an ice cube. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Dad—”
Harry talked over him. “You can bet on that. When push comes to shove, Ms. Eleanor Washburn will put her career before you and your kids—just the way their mom did in Las Vegas. You mark my words.” With that, his dad got up and stalked from the room.
Pete gripped the table edge as if it were a lifeline. He knew his dad would always take the worst view of anything. He was the perennial naysayer, the grump. But the poisoned barbs had shot straight into Pete’s tender spot.
What if I am making the same mistake?
Ellie isn’t Suzann.
But can I be sure? Will she devote herself to Cassie, Nicky and Jenna? That’s a tall order.
Well, I’ll be there, too. We’ll be working together taking care of the kids. I have more time off and more flexibility with my teaching job.
So I already know that I’ll be the main parent?
No. Ellie loves the kids and already adjusts her schedule for them and for others.
Pete rubbed his taut forehead. These upsetting thoughts had tied his neck muscles in knots, too. He wanted to believe that in the future he and Ellie could make it, make a blended family work. But the statistics were stacked against them.
Pete released the table and bent his head. “Dear Lord,” he prayed out loud. “What should I do? Would Ellie and I make it as a couple? Or will it end in disaster, like my first marriage? I want to do what’s right, what’s best for all of us, Nicky, Cassie and Jenna, too. Help me. Help us.”
Another front was approaching later that day. Returning from a longer than expected discussion with the principal, Pete arrived home from school and went out looking for his kids to bring them inside before the next storm arrived.
Since Pete had awakened later than usual and then been called to school to discuss some plans for the house to be built this year, his normal schedule with the kids had been upset. As usual, his family had taken up the slack.
Blocking the memory of his dad’s corrosive words, Pete expected to find the kids on the playset and headed straight to it. Empty. If they weren’t there, they’d be with one of his parents. He walked to the ancient, red barn with its stone foundation. His youngest brother, Landon, and his dad were fixing a tractor engine in the late-afternoon sun in the open doorway. When he joined them, he heard Nicky up in the loft, playing with the litter of barn kittens.
Passing by Landon and Harry, Pete climbed up the ladder, expecting to see Cassie with her brother. He scanned the hayloft. “Hey, Nick, where’s your sister?”
Nicky lay on his back with a kitten in each hand, rubbing their noses together. He rolled to the side and put one kitten down gently. “After lunch, we were playing on the playset. She went in the house to get you.”
“When did she go into the house?”
“Right after lunch. We saw you go into the kitchen with grandpa.” Nicky tickled the kitten under its tiny chin.
A sudden suspicion squeezed Pete’s lungs. “But Cassie didn’t come in then.” He hoped against hope that his daughter hadn’t overheard the conversation with his father.
Nicky shrugged and then trailed a bit of red yarn in front of the kittens. “She said that’s what she was going to do.”
“And you haven’t seen her since?”
Nicky shook his head emphatically no.
Pete lowered himself down rung by rung, but his heart had sped up. They lived in the country, their farm set far back from the lane. The kids had a playset and the barn and three adults to oversee them. When he’d left, his brother had said that he was watching Cassie and Nicky. But sometimes, the kids forgot to let the nearest adult know that they were going to another place to play on the farm. The children knew their limits and had never crossed them. And as long as they stayed away from any of the machinery, the farm was a safe place for them.
Pete reached the dusty barn floor. Through the open doors, he glimpsed the cattle out in the pasture, grazing happily. His dad and brother were clanging tools and arguing about something—the usual. A tiny spark of fear flickered to life. He quelled it. The kids had a habit of finding places to get distracted and linger in—just like he and his brothers had when they were kids here. He headed toward the propped-open barn doors. “Dad! Landon! Have you seen Cassie?”
They both looked up. Perhaps the sharp tone of his voice alerted them. They looked at each other and then his dad replied, “I saw her outside the kitchen this morning after we…after we talked about that woman.”
At the words that woman Landon looked at Pete questioningly.
Pete shook his head, letting his brother know he wouldn’t be discussing that now. As a reminder that “little pitchers have big ears,” as his mother would say, Pete gave a toss of his head toward Nicky in the barn loft. “Nicky says he hasn’t seen her since then, either.”
“Cassie isn’t on the playset?” Landon asked.
Pete shook his head. “Another storm’s on the way.”
As if on cue, the weather radio in the corner crackled to life with a forecast. The three men listened to a storm warning that included strong winds, lightning and a possibility of hail. Pete’s fear ratcheted up another notch.
Harry put down the wrench he was holding. “I’ll call your mother. She’s at the church, some planning committee meeting. Maybe she took Cassie with her.” His dad headed toward the house at a trot.
Landon came over to Pete and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Where should I look?”
“I don’t know.” Pete lifted both hands, his stomach swaying and swishing with cold fear. Don’t jump to conclusions. Kids do this stuff.
“Do you think she’d be down at the creek?” Landon asked.
“She never goes there without Nicky or me.” Pete shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Why don’t you check in all the farm buildings?” Landon suggested. “And I’ll look over the pasture and run down to the creek.”
Pete nodded, not having any better plan. “Nicky!” he called up. “Stay in the loft. A storm’s coming. If your sister comes in here, tell her to stay with you and the kittens!”
“Okay, Dad!” Nicky called back, sounding unconcerned.
Pete ran out of the barn and headed to one of the many machine sheds. Nothing much to do there, and without windows, they were dark and unwelcoming. The kids hardly ever went in there, especially Cassie.
Still, he opened each, calling, “Cassie! Cassie! Storm’s coming!” He crouched low, looking under the old farm machinery, and climbed up to look over it. No Cassie. After searching each one, he met Landon coming back from the pasture.
His brother shook his head no. “Maybe she’s inside in her room, reading or something?”
The two of them ran into the kitchen. Harry met them there. “She’s not in the house. Your mom’s on her way back. I also checked out front in the ditch along the lane.” He shook his head negatively.
All the usual places investigated, Pete’s worry zoomed to fear, full-out and raging. “Where do you think she might have gone?” The horrifying thought that someone might have snatched her reared its ghastly head.
As if reading his mind, Harry said, “The kids never go near the lane, and our place’s not near any main road, not even a county one. Who would even drive all the way back here?”
Pete weighed this, gripping the frayed ends of his calm. It made sense, but where was Cassie?
His mom’s SUV lurched to a halt outside the back door and she sailed in. “Have you found her?”
The men’s expressions must have been enough to tell her the bad news. “Have you checked under all the beds? She might have crawled under and fallen asleep.”
The men took off, each running to a different bedroom. Soon they all arrived back downstairs. On her knees, his mother was peering under the sofa and chairs. She got up from her knees. “I checked all the hidey-holes in the cellar. And she’s not under any of the furniture on the first floor.”
“Nor any of the beds,” Harry said, looking even more sour than usual.
“I shouldn’t have slept in this morning,” Pete said, guilt riddling him.
“Nonsense.” His mother dismissed this with a wave of her hand. “Kids do these things. How do you think I got these gray hairs? Now, can anybody think of a reason that Cassie might have left the farm?”
Pete hesitated and then said, with a glance at his dad, “Nicky says that she came to the house when she saw me getting coffee in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t see her,” Harry said, looking disgruntled.
“Nicky said she came to the kitchen,” his mother repeated slowly, studying both him and Harry. “Did something happen in the kitchen this morning while I was away?”
Pete and his dad exchanged unhappy glances.
“You tell her,” his dad said.
Pete began, “I was late getting up because Suzann called me last night—”
“Why did Suzann call?” Kerry Ann asked, not sounding happy.
“She wants…she wants to know if she can send the kids gifts and come to visit them once a year.”
“Good of her.” His dad sneered. “Generous.”
Kerry Ann gave him a sideways look. “You can’t get blood from a turnip.”
“Exactly.” His dad appeared to swell with indignation. “I told Pete he’s doing it all over again. That Eleanor Washburn isn’t the right kind of woman for him. Another lady lawyer.”