by Ann Evans
“Girls can be pretty tough enemies of Cyberlons, too. Remember Queen Persefa in Alien Advance?”
He considered that a moment, then gave her the gap-toothed smile that always made her heart go bump. “Yeah, I guess a girl can shoot.”
Petey was too quiet, his head down. His fingers plucked at the twine he’d wrapped around his Spiderman on the battleship. Jenna waited, knowing her son well enough to sense a question was forthcoming.
“Is Daddy ever gonna come back?” he asked at last.
Even J.D. went still to hear the answer to that one. After Jack had left, she’d talked to the boys briefly about the changes they’d have to go through. She’d never believed in long-range deception, and she’d thought they took it pretty well. But evidently, not as well as she’d hoped. Particularly Petey, who had been much closer to his father than J.D.
She pulled Petey to her side so she could see both the boys without turning her head. “No, honey,” she said. “Daddy isn’t coming home.”
“Do you want him to come back?” Petey asked.
“No,” she told him honestly. “Because I don’t think either of us would be happy if that happened. Someday I’d like him to come back to see you and J.D. But until he does, I think we need to stick together as a family.”
Petey’s downcast eyes raised to hers. “Do you want another husband?”
She didn’t want to answer that and decided to settle on something indefinite. “Maybe someday.”
“Grampa says you raising this baby alone is gonna be harder than pounding nails in a snowbank.”
She agreed it would be difficult, but as usual, that lack of faith coming from her father made her hackles rise. “That sounds like your grandfather. You all have talked this out, I take it?”
“No,” said Petey.
“We heard him talking on the phone to Uncle Christopher,” J.D. volunteered.
Petey opened his mouth to protest but Jenna silenced him with a finger to his lips. “I know. Just by accident.”
“It was!”
“I think I need to have a talk with everyone about respecting other people’s privacy,” she muttered. For the boys’ sake, she smiled. “You know, your grandfather still thinks of me as a little girl. But I’m much more capable than anyone gives me credit for around here.” She nudged Petey and dropped her hand into the tub to tousle J.D.’s hair. “I’m doing all right by the two of you, aren’t I?”
“I think you’re great, Mom,” J.D. piped up. “That’s what we tried to tell those guys we called.” He looked momentarily flustered. “I mean, those guys Petey called.”
Petey gave his brother an evil look, and Jenna had to laugh. “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t hear those conversations.”
With Petey almost ready for bed, J.D. hopped out of the tub so Jenna could dry him off. His body was soft and pink from the heat of the water. Toweling him quickly, she watched Petey struggle to put toothpaste on his toothbrush.
“You know,” she began, “Mark Bishop came to see me today.”
“Who?” J.D. said with a frown.
Petey whirled around, his eyes alight with interest. “Orlando, you moron. The theme parks.” To Jenna he said, “I knew it! He wanted to meet you. Did you like him?”
She shrugged. “He was nice enough. We’re probably going to see each other a few times. Just to see how we get along.”
She and Mark had decided that for now, no one was to know he was the father of her child. It was possible that someone, probably Lauren, would make the connection once Jenna told her how far along she was.
She hoped her family wouldn’t put it together. After all, during their discussion that night at dinner, when she’d first told them about going to New York for the interview, she couldn’t recall even mentioning his name.
And if Mark truly intended to hold her to the idea of dating to see if they were compatible, she supposed it didn’t matter just how he’d popped up in her life. It was too much to expect her sons to keep their telephone call a secret, but if she was questioned about it, she’d simply refuse to elaborate. How many women wanted to discuss being put up on the marriage block by their own children?
She tried to imagine Mark interacting with the men in her family. They could be brutally protective of her. Embarrassingly intrusive. How would he react to the McNab version of the Inquisition?
Even more than that, how was she going to manage having Mark in her life? She must have been crazy to agree to his plan. She could think of a dozen reasons it wouldn’t work. She resented his threat that she might have a legal battle on her hands. But how was she going to keep him from exploiting the fact that, every time he got near her, her senses skyrocketed? Damn good-looking men and the foolish way they made women act and feel!
Petey had finished brushing his teeth. He turned toward her. “You should invite him to Aunt Penny’s party. He could meet the whole family and see what we’re like.”
Aunt Penelope, her father’s oldest sister, was turning eighty the day after tomorrow. Her daughters had decided that a reunion of every McNab in the country was just the thing to mark the occasion. They’d planned a covered-dish barbecue, complete with hired entertainment, at a local park. McNabs, being firm believers in family, would be turning out in droves. It was bound to be a crowded, exhausting and long day.
She had to hide a smile at the thought of Mark joining them. He’d been an only child, no doubt sheltered and the full focus of his parents’ attention. She could imagine the kinds of parties he’d gone to as a kid—sedate, tidy little affairs that began with engraved invitations. There probably hadn’t been a piñata within a hundred miles of a Bishop-family function.
He thought he was prepared for family life, but how would he manage surrounded by noisy kids and spilled punch and rubbery hot dogs? She’d bet that being subjected to a mega McNab-family gathering would send him running to the airport. Maybe it was an opportunity too good to miss.
She flicked her oldest son on the nose and grinned at him. “You know, Petey, inviting him to Aunt Penny’s party is a pretty good idea.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE DAY OF Aunt Penelope’s party at Bear Hollow Park, Kathy Bigelow dropped off the key to the Victorian fixer-upper. Jenna was so eager to see it she convinced her father to take the boys to the celebration without her. Later, after running a quick errand, she could meet them at the park, she told him.
She hated circumventing the truth, but she wasn’t quite brave enough to confess her plans. Not yet. Why bring up a sore subject if the house turned out to be completely hopeless?
She wasn’t expecting miracles, but she meant what she’d said to Kathy. The house didn’t have to be especially grand. But it had to have some indefinable something that called to her, that told her it could be a place she could turn into a real home for her family.
With the key in her purse and the address clutched in one hand, Jenna finally found it. It was in a neighborhood filled with older homes. Not Historic Registry material, but houses that didn’t have a cookie-cutter sameness. Loads of potential. The trees were wonderful, and though the sidewalks were giving way to root invasion, there were signs that children played here. Bikes tipped over on lawns. Basketball hoops over garages.
Jenna stepped out of the car, then stood staring up at the house while her heart did a nervous little back flip.
The Victorian had lots of personality in its curved arch-ways, bay windows and wide front porch. It was asymmetrical, columns on either side of the entryway, matching chimneys along a low, shingled roof.
The exterior was lovely. And it needed a lot of work.
She approached slowly, and as she had with every house she’d seen so far, she tried to envision living here. Watching Petey and J.D. play in the front yard shaded by big magnolias. Imagining herself planting azaleas in the garden that now looked overgrown and lifeless.
Could she and the boys and the baby build a brand-new life around this home? Or was buying a house right now the u
ltimate in biting off more than she could chew?
If she did buy it, would Mark come here to visit his son?
That was a foolish thought. She shouldn’t be thinking along those lines. Everything involving Mark was still so up in the air.
But once she made the break from her father’s house, there would be no turning back. The boys felt abandoned by their father. They needed to feel safe and secure again, in a house that made them all feel safe and secure.
Was this house the one?
The front door was massive. Jenna fit the key into the stubborn, corroded lock and fiddled with it for a moment or two. Then suddenly she was in.
An impressive staircase wound up to the second floor. To the right a wide, curved archway opened into the front room. To the left another archway opened to a smaller room clearly designed to be a study or den.
She wandered slowly through the downstairs rooms, stroking the smooth, aged rosewood that glowed warmly in spite of recent neglect. The broad, wooden floorboards creaked under her weight, but it was a nice, homey sound. The high ceilings would make the rooms difficult to heat, but there were touches of whimsy along the crown moldings, and the charming fireplaces would give the rooms a cozy, friendly ambience.
The room she envisioned as a den made her heart beat faster. As much as she enjoyed her involvement with FTW, she had always dreamed of opening her own office as a CPA. With massive built-in bookcases and multipaned, beveled windows that offered great light, this room was ideal.
Actually the room was big enough for two good-size desks. Before she could wonder what had spurred the thought, she pictured Mark sharing this space with her, their desks facing each other. She could imagine them working quietly together, neither one disturbing the other, but every so often, they’d look up, connect without words, content just to be in the same room.
The fantasy stunned her a little. Since Jack’s departure, she’d managed to keep her head out of the clouds. She didn’t indulge in daydreams involving men anymore.
Until now. Until Mark.
She rubbed her hands vigorously up and down her arms as if she needed warming. She mustn’t slip this way. Mark didn’t fit in this picture at all. He’d probably hate a house like this.
She turned her back on the den and returned to the central hall. The stairs beckoned, curving and graceful. The newel post caught her attention. Carved from solid oak, it depicted a surprisingly delicate-looking bird, wings caught as though poised to take flight.
It could have been any number of bird species, but right then and there Jenna decided it was a phoenix. Rising from the ashes. She didn’t mean to romanticize it. It just fit somehow.
So the house is a beautiful, slightly faded lady, she scolded herself. That doesn’t mean you can make it yours. That doesn’t mean it’s the place.
But the moment she wrapped her fingers around the newel post, she knew that it was. The wood was warm and welcoming under her hand, and all she could think was Yes. Oh, yes.
This is home.
BEAR HOLLOW PARK was the kind of park made for family get-togethers. Acres and acres of wooded trails to hike, a pretty lake good for boating, ball fields for impromptu games. Today a clear blue sky promised to make the day perfect.
Unfortunately, by the time Jenna left the Victorian and made it to the park, it didn’t look as if she would get to enjoy much of it. On her way toward the covered pavilions, she was strong-armed by one of Aunt Penelope’s daughters and talked into setting up the food tables.
Jenna had immediately realized that the job called for reinforcements. Now, while she set out stacks of napkins, utensils and cups, Trent’s girlfriend, Amanda, and Jenna’s second cousin Louise were sorting through various bowls, plastic platters and foil-covered pans. By noon every McNab within hollering distance would be heading their way.
A shaggy-headed teenager—was he one of cousin Alice’s boys?—handed her a covered pan with no explanation and trotted away to join the Frisbee tournament in the nearby field. Jenna lifted one corner of the foil and frowned. She couldn’t tell if it was a dessert or a main dish.
“There’re so many of them,” Amanda said behind her.
Jenna nodded, giving the pan a sniff. “Most of the McNab women are good cooks and they like to share. We’ll have plenty to feed the hungry hordes.”
“I meant, there are so many McNabs.”
Turning, Jenna saw that Amanda was surveying the area around the covered shelters. Everywhere you looked were McNab relatives, the older folks gossiping and laughing in folding chairs, the men swapping stories around coolers of beer and soda, the kids squealing with delight and excitement as they watched the clown who’d been hired to keep them from driving the adults crazy.
Even if you hadn’t known this section of the park had been reserved for the McNab reunion, you could probably have picked them out, anyway. The McNabs were more healthy-looking than beautiful, but they tended to have the same physical characteristics. Good tans. Lean bodies. Light, dancing hair. And what her father referred to as “the McNab muzzle”—a wide, expressive mouth.
Christopher had told her that he and Amanda were starting to talk about getting married. Seeing the woman’s astonishment, Jenna could imagine that Amanda felt slightly intimidated by the thought of being part of such a large family. It was the same reaction she hoped to get from Mark when he showed up. If he showed up.
“They can be overwhelming,” Jenna agreed. “Taken in small doses, they’re pretty harmless. Only about a hundred of them live around Atlanta.”
Judging from the look on Amanda’s face, she might as well have said a thousand.
Jenna squeezed her hand affectionately. “Don’t worry. Christopher’s one of the saner McNabs. He’ll only drive you crazy half the time.”
“That’s funny,” Amanda replied with a smile. “That’s what he says about you.”
Louise, whom Jenna had always considered a bit of a complainer, made a show of squashing a stray ant unlucky enough to take a shortcut across one of the tables. “I hate bugs. Why can’t we all go to a restaurant and be waited on like civilized people?”
Jenna handed Louise a stack of plastic tablecloths. “Because Aunt Penny loves the park, and since it’s her birthday, she got to decide.”
Louise jerked her head toward a nearby clearing, where two men were unloading a large cage from the back of a pickup truck. “That’s her idea, too, you know?”
Jenna nodded, but Amanda shook her head.
“It’s a dunking booth,” Jenna explained. “You see, Aunt Penny loves animals and—”
“Cat crazy,” Louise jumped in. “You know those old women who live with a zillion cats and spend all their time talking to their tomato plants? That’s Aunt Penny.”
“Four is hardly a zillion,” Jenna said, giving her cousin a look she usually reserved for the boys. Aunt Penelope was one of her favorite relatives, and she felt compelled to defend her. “She’s a big supporter of the Humane Society. Instead of birthday gifts, she wanted a dunking booth where we could pay a dollar for the chance to dunk some poor, unsuspecting relative. I think it’s a great way to make money for a worthy cause.” She watched as the tank was maneuvered into place, the workmen surrounded by a dozen excited children and adults. “The kids are going to love this. And I heard Dad trying to talk Uncle George into taking a turn in the tank.”
Louise brightened. “I should have brought my checkbook. I’d pay a week’s salary to dunk that smelly old goat.”
Jenna had to agree with her. Uncle George had the annoying habit of ogling any woman who came within ten feet of him. Admittedly, if it was Uncle George perched on the dunking-tank ledge, she might have to come up with a few bucks herself.
She began shifting plates to make more room at the tables.
“Wow,” Amanda said beside her. “What branch of the McNab family tree is he from?”
Jenna straightened and followed Amanda’s gaze toward the parking lot.
Mark Bishop
had just gotten out of an expensive sports car that looked very out-of-place among all the SUVs and minivans. Spotting her, he headed in her direction, walking in that loose-limbed, yet elegant way that made her think his hips were somehow connected differently from everyone else’s. He wore designer jeans and tennis shoes that looked as if they’d just been taken out of the box.
“He’s not a McNab,” Louise declared. Louise measured McNabs in terms of wealth, and while a few members could be considered well-heeled, most were decidedly middle-class.
Jenna watched him approach. That long body so beautifully proportioned. The dark hair that sifted carelessly across his brow. She remembered how soft those wayward strands felt under her fingers, the way… Rats! There she was again, indulging in that despicable thing she’d promised herself she would stop doing—shivering with expectation and longing for something she couldn’t even put a name to.
He smiled and waved at her.
“Actually,” Jenna said, “that’s my date.”
Both women gave her a look that was too surprised to be considered polite. She was glad she’d decided to call him at his Atlanta office yesterday to invite him to this party. She still wanted him out of her life quickly, and this occasion might really do the trick. If he took one look at all this family togetherness, turned his back and walked away forever, she’d be delighted.
But in the face of all the McNab inquisitors who had started to openly offer suggestions for ways to change her divorced status into something more acceptable to the family, it was rather nice to have a good-looking man to claim as her own today.
“You made it,” she said as he reached her side. He didn’t try to kiss her, but he squeezed her upper arm in a friendly welcome that made her breath catch a little.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he replied, though he didn’t sound completely sincere. “Sorry to be late.”
You’d never know he’d left her house the day before yesterday amid rock-solid tension. His declaration that he might seek legal means to resolve the issue of the baby had left her feeling sick with anxiety, but she was determined not to show it. He wasn’t the only one who could put on a good show for outsiders.