After That Night

by Ann Evans

  Evidently, more difficult than he’d ever imagined.

  The boy’s bathroom looked like a toy shop, with action figures and miniature submarines lining the side of the tub. Pete and J.D. played more than they washed so that Mark never was completely sure they’d done a thorough job. By the time he’d gotten them out of the tub, clothes littered the floor, along with what seemed like a dozen wet towels. Water was everywhere, including all over him.

  His sense of humor had eroded a little. What had appeared to be a fairly simple task had ended up consuming more than an hour, and neither of the boys were taking anything he said seriously.

  He pulled the plug on the bathwater, then began collecting towels. Pete and J.D. stood giggling in the altogether, sliding on the wet tiles as they shoved at each other.

  “Why don’t you two put on your pajamas?” Mark suggested firmly as he pulled them apart.

  “Mom always helps us,” Pete replied.

  “Surely you can manage to put on your own for just one night, can’t you?” J.D. was fishing around in the cooling bathwater, searching for a plastic space warrior and getting wet again. “J.D., stop,” Mark said in his best imitation of a stern father. “Go get into your pajamas.”

  The boy blinked up at him. “But Mom—”

  “Your mom is asleep. I want her to stay that way. Come on, you guys. We can do this without help from your mom. Now go. Quietly.”

  They trooped off without another word. Mark gathered dirty clothes and placed them in the hamper. Could the wet towels go in there with them? Hell if he knew. The bathroom was still filled with steamy heat, and a line of sweat trickled down his back. He lifted two pairs of grubby sneakers by the laces, wondering if he was supposed to do anything special with them.

  No sounds came from the bedroom the boys shared. Good. Maybe he’d convinced them to settle down. On second thought, maybe he ought to check on them.

  The bedroom was dimly lit. A night-light cast deep shadows against the walls. From his bed, Pete smiled at Mark. That seemed like a good sign.

  “Okay,” Mark said with a sigh. “Are we ready to settle down?”

  Pete frowned at him. “Mom always reads to us.”

  He’d been afraid of that. No easy way out, it seemed. He looked over at the bookcase. “One story. Then lights-out.”

  Mark was about to pull up the bedside chair and turn on the overhead light when he realized that J.D.’s bed was empty. “Where’s your brother?” he asked Pete quickly.

  Pete pointed under J.D.’s bed.

  Mark bent down. Sure enough, J.D. was under there, surrounded by a blanket, his trusty space cannon and enough space toys to guard a small galaxy. The kid’s wide, dark eyes stared out at him. He’d changed into his pajamas, and it looked as if he had every intention of spending the night under the bed.

  Not you, J.D., Mark thought. I thought I had you on my side.

  Mark smiled at the little boy. “What are you doing, J.D.?”

  “That’s where he goes when he’s upset,” Pete offered from the other bed.

  Mark glanced at Pete. “What’s he upset about?”

  Pete shrugged.

  Mark bent down on one knee. “J.D., come out from under there.”

  J.D. shook his head. His eyes were glistening in the pale light.

  “What’s wrong?” Mark asked, trying to put a little more understanding into his tone. Only problem was, he didn’t understand this kind of thing at all.

  “I want Mommy.”

  He wasn’t sure he had the patience for this. He wasn’t superdad, no matter how well he’d managed today. Guilt. That always worked, didn’t it? “You want your mother to get well, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then she needs her rest. And she needs you to be a brave boy and go to sleep in your own bed. So she doesn’t worry.”

  “Mom lets me sleep under here anytime I want.”

  Pete made a snorting sound of derision. “No, she doesn’t. He’s just trying to get his way.”

  “J.D.—”

  “You killed Captain Hollister!” J.D. suddenly accused.

  Mark scowled. “Who?”

  “Space commander of the whole Alpharegus galaxy,” the boy explained. Then in a rush he added, “He was in the tub. Mom always takes out all our stuff before she empties the water, but you didn’t, and you wouldn’t let me get him. And now Captain Hollister’s got sucked into a black hole.”

  “He went down the drain,” Pete translated.

  That was what all this was about? Pure astonishment made Mark speechless for a moment. Then, “I’m sure we can find him,” he told J.D. “I’ll take the drain apart in the morning if I have to.”

  The boy’s lower lip trembled. Mark could clearly hear sniffling. “He needs help now.”

  “He can cry all night when he gets going,” Pete threw in.

  “You’re not helping, Pete,” Mark said over his shoulder. He bent closer to J.D., who had pushed farther back against the wall so that he was nearly out of sight. “Okay, take it easy. I’ll see what I can do.”

  He straightened and headed back to the bathroom. He’d no more than glanced in the bathtub when he found both boys standing at his side. “Go back to bed,” he said.

  Pete lifted his hand. “I have a flashlight.”

  Mark took it out of Pete’s hand and peered into the drain. He supposed it was possible a small toy could slip down inside, but it didn’t seem likely. Was this a stall tactic from J.D.? How would Jenna handle this?

  “I don’t see a thing,” he said to both boys, settling back in front of the tub on his knees.

  “Grampa has tools,” J.D. suggested.

  “J.D., I promise, tomorrow…” The boy looked crestfallen. Might as well concede defeat, Mark thought. “Where are they?”

  “In the hall closet.”

  “Stay here. Do not go into your mother’s bedroom. Do not make any noise. Got it?”

  They nodded in solemn unison.

  Mark rummaged around in the downstairs closet until he found a small tool caddy. He’d never done much in the way of home repair. But he recognized the need for a screwdriver if he was going to play handyman.

  Five minutes later, with both J.D. and Pete looking over his shoulder, he got the drain covering off. He flashed the light into the hole, but could see absolutely nothing. Captain Hollister might really be a goner. And Jenna might have a whale of a plumbing problem on her hands if the space commander was stuck farther down.

  “Nothing clogging the drain,” he said at last. “Are you sure…?”

  J.D. was shaking his head vigorously and looked on the verge of tears again. Mark glanced away, wondering if, after all this, he really would have to wake Jenna so she could deal with the loss of the good captain and a wailing six-year-old.

  A balled-up washcloth lay in one corner of the bathtub. Something green stuck out from under it. Mark scooped it up and shook it. A tiny plastic hero plinked into the tub.

  He held it out to J.D. “Anybody you know?”

  J.D. hopped up and down with excitement. He snatched the figure out of Mark’s hand. “Captain Hollister! I forgot I put him in the washcloth space capsule so he could be beamed on a mission.”

  “I see,” Mark said. “You couldn’t have remembered that before I tore up the bathtub drain?” J.D. just looked at him. Rhetorical questions were wasted on this little guy. Mark stood. “Let’s go back to bed before he ends up in more danger.”

  J.D.’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t come to the bedroom. He’s a bathroom space commander.”

  “Fine.”

  J.D. set him firmly in the toy basket on the back of the toilet. The three of them marched back into the bedroom. Pete went to his bed without a word, but J.D. glanced up at Mark. “Can I still sleep under it?”

  “No. Go…to…sleep. Both of you.”

  “Are you grumpy ’cause you’re sleepy?” Pete asked from his bed.

  “I’m not grumpy. I’m just not used
to trying to get anyone else ready for bed except me. And I can be done in fifteen minutes.”

  “Mom does it all the time.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s tough, and she’s had more practice. Now, no more stalling. Good night.”

  “G’night,” J.D. said, agreeable at last.

  Mark turned off the light, listening to the sounds of yawns and settling covers in the meager light.

  “Mark?” Pete’s voice called out.

  “Yes?”

  “You said you would read us a story.”

  Mark sighed heavily and flipped the light back on. He knew when he was beaten.

  AT TWO IN THE MORNING, Jenna got up to get a drink of water from the bathroom. Having spent the entire day in bed, she wasn’t a bit sleepy, but she knew better than to disobey the doctor’s orders and violate her agreement with Mark. One quick swallow of water and then back to bed.

  With that mission accomplished, however, she couldn’t resist taking a short turn around the house, just to make sure everything was all right. The place was dead quiet now.

  Earlier she’d been brought dinner on a tray. Petey and J.D. had spent time with her this evening, but they were clearly uncomfortable to see their mother forced to stay in bed, and probably even bored. She felt isolated, missing the interaction with her children, wanting to do something besides lie in bed and worry. But a promise was a promise, Mark reminded her. So she’d stayed put. Now she couldn’t imagine any harm in checking to see what devastation had befallen her tidy little world.

  She checked on Petey and J.D. first. Their faces in sleep always undid her. They were sleeping like angels, both of them looking so sweet and innocent an outsider would never have guessed they could be holy terrors. She gave them each a kiss on the forehead.

  As she left the room, she was surprised to see clean clothes stacked neatly on top of their dressers. That had to be Mark’s doing. Her sons could build entire cities out of two sheets and a towel, but folding their own clothes seemed beyond them.

  The rest of the house looked surprisingly well kept. In the moonlight she saw no signs of dirty dishes, no board games with all the pieces scattered everywhere, no shoes to trip over.

  In the pearled light coming through the living-room windows, Mark was asleep on the sofa. Still dressed in the casual clothes he’d worn that day, he might have been any husband who’d come home from work and decided to take a nap on the couch.

  His features were indistinct in the shadows, but he heaved a sigh that sounded for all the world like relief. He moved restlessly again; the couch was too narrow for broad shoulders like his.

  His eyes opened, and he blinked up at her sleepily. “Jenna? You all right?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Just getting a drink and checking on you guys.”

  He closed his eyes, smiling agreeably. Without even being aware of it really, she reached out to brush a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. Touching him felt good.

  “Sorry about the tub,” he muttered softly. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

  “The tub?”

  “Captain Hollister. J.D. thought I killed him, but—” he yawned “—I didn’t.”

  “That’s good,” Jenna said. “Go back to sleep, Mark.”

  He let out another drowsy sigh. “You, too.”

  She pulled the throw over his shoulder, then lifted the hem of her nightgown and went up the stairs. Back in bed, she punched her pillow into a better position and turned onto her side. Stop thinking about him, she ordered her brain.

  But sleep was still a long time coming.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “YOU WON’T FORGET to pick us up?” Pete asked as he hopped out of Mark’s car and joined his brother on the sidewalk in front of the elementary school.

  “I won’t forget,” Mark promised for the third time. So far he hadn’t completely mismanaged this domestic stuff. You’d think by now the kid would have a little faith in him.

  “I have batting practice after school, and they get mad if you’re late.”

  “You won’t be late.”

  The boy gave him a hopeful smile and then jogged off to join J.D.

  Mark pulled the car back into traffic. Mentally he ran through the list of things he planned to accomplish today. It shouldn’t be that difficult. Anyone with a head on his shoulders and a detailed appointment calendar ought to be able to manage it. But for some reason he was having a hard time concentrating.

  He suspected part of the problem was lack of sleep. Jenna’s couch didn’t make a very comfortable bed, and besides tossing and turning half the night, he’d been up and down a dozen times to check on things. Was that Jenna calling out to him? Were the boys up and into mischief or just getting a drink of water? Was that sound in the backyard really the sprinklers kicking on or was someone trying to break into the house?

  At home he’d never had to worry about anyone but himself. Up in his tenth-floor condo, he might as well have been living on the moon. And one benefit to that kind of isolation—you slept like a baby.

  He didn’t want to think about what he’d discovered in the past twenty-four hours—that this parenting thing was a lot tougher than he’d expected. When he’d shown up on Jenna’s doorstep, he’d made some pretty big promises about his willingness to commit to her and their child, but he’d never really factored in what two additional children could add to the equation.

  Pete and J.D. were good kids, but instant parenthood took a lot out of a person. They were full of a million questions and endless energy. They could develop attitudes at the drop of a hat. And they were constantly testing him to see how much they could get away with.

  He hadn’t wanted to go to Jenna for advice. But was he saying the right things? Making the right choices? What if he inadvertently hurt one of them? Feeling vastly inadequate for the first time in his life, Mark just didn’t know how he was measuring up.

  Hell, what was he worried about? They were just two little kids. He could handle them. He’d conquered the Dominator 2006, hadn’t he?

  Maybe one of the reasons he was so tired and in such a dispirited mood was the situation at work. The Orlando auditors were still yammering about the possibility of embezzlement at the paper.

  He’d been avoiding it too long, mainly because the ghouls in accounting kept pointing fingers at his Atlanta controller, Dale Damron. Mark had handpicked Dale six years ago for that job. They’d gone to college together. He trusted the man completely, and he wouldn’t believe there was anything out of the ordinary there. Not without proof. Lots of it.

  But today was the day he had to finally dig into the records he’d brought to Jenna’s house. And if they revealed the worst, that Dale was somehow stealing from the company, from him, then he’d have to deal with it.

  Quietly he opened the front door. Jenna was probably still asleep.

  That proved not to be the case, however, when he heard her call down to him. He took the stairs two at a time and eased open her bedroom door. She sat against the headboard, the sheet tucked tightly around her waist. Damned if she didn’t look just as appealing in the harsh light of day as she had last night.

  “I want to get up,” she said.

  He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry. Until your doctor calls, that’s not an option.”

  “You said you wouldn’t boss me around.”

  “And you said you’d follow doctor’s orders.”

  “I’m going crazy here. I’ve read everything, written a dozen letters, watched all the television I can stand and reorganized my recipe file. I have to have something to do besides lie here and contemplate my navel for hours on end.”

  “Omphaloskepsis.”

  “What?”

  “Omphaloskepsis. The act of contemplating your navel to reach a higher meditation. It’ll be good for you.”

  “Well, I’m going to omphaloskepsis my way into breaking out of this house if I don’t have something better to do. I’m not going
to be responsible for what happens. But I promise you, it won’t be pretty.”

  He came into the room, right up to the bed, where he could scowl down at her in a deliberate effort to intimidate. “Come on, Jenna, be a good girl—”

  “I have been good,” she said. “Now I want to be useful.”

  “I’ll bring you socks to sort.”

  She refused to be put off. “What are you doing today?”

  “Boring stuff. Going over some files from work. My accounting team in Orlando seems to think there are discrepancies that can’t be explained.”

  She brightened and sat up straighter. “Accounting audits! That’s right up my alley. Let me help.”

  “You have to stay in bed.”

  “Then do your work up here,” she countered. She patted the space next to her, giving him a playful look. “I’ve got a seat saved for you.”

  He couldn’t help where his thoughts took him. “You and me, side by side in bed. Why doesn’t that idea sound more like my idea of heaven?”

  “Because we’ll be working,” she said in a determined, no-nonsense tone. “No funny business. Go get your stuff and let’s get started.”

  He gave the suggestion serious consideration. Surely they could be friendly but keep the relationship on professional terms. With her present state of health still unknown, it wasn’t as though they could do anything. But oh, the temptation.

  He motioned toward the bed. “We stay on top of the covers. Not under them.”

  “Of course.”

  His eyes landed on the neckline of her nightgown. It was conservative, but not nearly modest enough. “I’m not made of stone,” he told her. “Put on a robe. I’ll be right back.”

  They piled pillows against the headboard for back support. Mark pulled off his shoes, then sat beside her with his laptop. Jenna sorted the files he took out of his briefcase, and very soon the rest of the bed was littered with paper, computer disks and various reports. He didn’t tell her that the Orlando team suspected Dale. He wanted to see what she came up with on her own, if anything.