Jack nodded. "Sure do."
Billy turned his head back to stare out the window. "Alayna gives me hugs and kisses sometimes," he admitted reluctantly. "I guess hers are all right." He frowned. "But she'll forget all about us now that the stupid baby's here."
Jack heard the bitterness in the boy's voice. But he heard the fear, too. "I'm sure she'll be busy with the baby, but she won't forget you're here. Molly, either. She'll probably even need your help."
"I ain't changin' no stinkin' diapers."
Jack chuckled. "I doubt she'll ask for your help with that chore." He turned his gaze back to the window, folding his arms across his chest again.
He felt a slight pressure against his side as Billy eased closer. They stood there together, looking down below and watching as the baby was passed from one expectant set of arms to another. Gradually the weight of Billy's body against Jack's side increased.
Jack suspected that the boy was feeling left out, and was worried about his place in the order of things now that there was a baby in the house. The hell of it was, Jack was feeling much the same emotions.
"Have you ever done any carpentry work?" he asked offhandedly.
Billy looked up at Jack, then snorted as he turned his face back to the window, scowling. "I'm just a kid. Remember?"
Jack lifted a shoulder. "Never too young to learn."
Billy glanced back up, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Learn what?"
"A trade. I could use some help around here. Of course, you'd have to be pretty strong for the work I'm needing done."
Billy bent his arm at the elbow and pushed up a sleeve, showing his muscle. "I've got big muscles," he said proudly.
Jack curled his fingers around the small swell on the boy's arm and tried to hide a smile. "Yep. That's pretty big all right. Think you could swing a hammer?"
"Shoot, yeah," Billy bragged.
Jack gave Billy a slap on his back that aimed him toward the door. "Well, let's get to it, then, before somebody comes looking for us and wants us to change a diaper."
"Here?"
Jack nodded as he knelt beside Billy, holding the lattice panel in place. "Yep. That's the spot. Just give the nail a tap to set it in the wood."
Billy lifted the hammer and thumped it against the nail. When he released the nail, it fell to the ground. He turned to Jack, scowling.
Jack chuckled and picked up the nail, passing it back to Billy. "Try it again. Only this time, hit it a little harder."
With a sigh of frustration, Billy put the nail back into position. Narrowing his eyes in determination, he lifted the hammer and swung. It hit the wood, missing the nail entirely.
"Again," Jack instructed patiently.
Billy swung again, harder this time. Slowly he released his grip on the nail. He grinned when it stayed in place.
"Perfect," Jack said. "Now you can drive it into the wood, but be careful that you don't bend the nail."
Catching his lower lip between his teeth, Billy lifted the hammer with both hands and pounded it against the nail. He missed the nail a couple of times, and hit the wood instead, putting a few dents in it. But Jack figured a few dents in the wood didn't matter. Billy was busy and he was happy, and he didn't seem to be fretting over the baby any longer, which was what Jack had hoped for when he'd suggested that Billy help him with his work.
Billy rocked back on his heels and looked up at Jack. "Is that good enough?" he asked uncertainly.
Jack shot him a grin. "Couldn't have done it any better myself."
His chest swelled with pride, Billy stood. He stuck the end of the hammer into his jean pocket, trying to use his pocket in the same way that Jack used the loops on his tool belt. Unfortunately his pocket wasn't deep enough and the hammer fell to the ground dangerously close to Billy's feet.
"Guess we're going to have to get you a tool belt," Jack said as he stooped to pick up the hammer.
Billy's eyes widened in excitement. "Really? When?"
Jack slipped the hammer into the loop on his own tool belt. "Next time I'm in town."
"Cool, dude!"
Chuckling, Jack playfully ruffled the boy's hair. "Yeah, cool."
Jack heard the cries before he even reached the house.
Man, that kid's got a set of lungs!
He opened the back door and stepped inside the kitchen. Alayna stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan while she jounced the screaming baby on her shoulder. Her hair was mussed and she was wearing the same blue robe Jack had seen her in that first morning when he'd come to the Pond House to work.
At the sound of the door closing, she turned and offered him a tired smile. "Good morning."
Jack tossed his cap to the counter. "Good morning."
She turned back to the stove and continued her stirring, raising her voice to be heard over the baby. "We're having oatmeal. I hope that's all right."
"Oatmeal's fine," he said, raising his voice, as well.
He watched her whack the spoon against the side of the pan, then lay it aside. The baby screamed even louder. Alayna sighed wearily and patted the infant on the back as she crossed to the refrigerator for milk. Jack noticed the droop of Alayna's shoulders, the heaviness of her step, the shadows beneath her eyes. He quickly gathered bowls and utensils and crossed to the table.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked.
Alayna smiled weakly as she set the milk on the table, then sank wearily into a chair. "No," she said, dipping her head to look at the baby. "Meggie cried all night."
"Is she sick or something?"
Alayna lifted her head to look at him and he saw the circles beneath her eyes, and the tears that brightened them. "Mrs. Lindstrom, the social worker," she added in explanation and sniffed, "says she has colic. I gave her the medicine they left with me, but it didn't seem to help."
Jack wasn't sure what possessed him, but he found himself rounding the table and holding out his hands. "Here. I'll take her for a while."
Alayna sighed gratefully as they made the exchange, wiping the stray tear from her cheek. "Thanks, Jack." She pushed herself to her feet. "Just give me a minute to get the oatmeal, then I'll take her back." She shuffled her way to the stove, retrieved the pan of oatmeal, then shuffled her way back to the table as if her feet were weighted with lead. She yawned hugely, then covered her mouth with her hand when she saw Jack watching her. "Sorry," she murmured in apology.
"I'd say you're due."
He watched as she scooped oatmeal into their bowls as if the spoon alone weighed a hundred pounds, then shuffled her way to the sink where she deposited the empty pan. She turned, holding out her arms as she crossed back to him. "Here. I can take her now."
Jack shifted the baby to his left shoulder and away from Alayna. "She can scream in my ear as easily as she can scream in yours." He gestured for her to take her seat. "Go on and eat your breakfast."
Alayna hesitated only a moment, then moved to her chair. She sank down onto it, propped her elbow on the table and her cheek on her palm. She sprinkled sugar over her oatmeal. "I had no idea a baby could cry this long."
"She's got a set of lungs on her, that's for sure."
Alayna tried to smile, but decided it required too much effort. She stirred oatmeal around her bowl, too exhausted to even lift the spoon and take a bite. She watched Jack as he shoveled spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth while alternately patting the baby's back.
"You're pretty good at that," she said, surprised by the ease with which he handled the baby.
With his spoon halfway to his mouth, Jack froze. He forced himself to carry the spoon the rest of the way, slowly chewed the food, then swallowed. "What's so hard about holding a baby?"
Alayna shrugged. "Nothing, I guess, though I've rarely seen a man hold an infant with such ease, especially a crying one."
Jack laid aside his spoon and shifted the baby to his lap, stretching her out across his thighs. He rubbed his hand over her back, throwing in a pat now and again.
Alayna's eyes widened as she stared at the baby. "How did you do that?"
Jack watched the movement of his hand across the infant's narrow back and remembered another time he'd handled a baby in such a way.
"My son had colic," he said in a voice so low Alayna had to strain to hear it.
Her gaze snapped to his. "You have a son?" she asked in surprise.
"Had," he corrected. "I lost him a little over six months ago in a car wreck."
Alayna sank back against her chair, slowly absorbing the news. Jack had lost a son. That explained so much. The lack of emotion in his eyes. His avoidance of Billy and Molly. "Oh, Jack," she murmured sadly. "I'm so sorry."
He rose quickly, shifting the baby to his arms, then rounded the table and held the infant out to Alayna, avoiding her gaze. "I better get to work." After making the exchange, he turned and headed for the door.
Alayna pressed the diaper tab into place, then pulled the soft pink kimono down over Meggie's skinny legs. "All dry," she said, smiling as she lifted the baby into her arms. Meggie seemed more content now that she'd received the second dose of colic medicine—at least, she wasn't crying any longer.
Humming softly, Alayna walked to the window and looked out across the lawn and toward the old barn. Two sawhorses were sitting in the barn's open doorway and the Pond House's front door lay stretched across their tops. Jack stood beside the sawhorses, stooped, his hands braced against an electric sander, a long black cord stretched out behind him. Chips of old paint flew from beneath the sander while a thin cloud of dust puffed around his head. She watched as he paused to smooth a hand across the wood, testing its surface, then put the sander back in place. A sigh shuddered through her.
She remembered the feel of those same hands smoothing across her bare skin. Wide, strong, rough with calluses, yet gentle. Oh, so gentle.
Slowly she turned away from the window and moved to sit down in the rocker. Shifting Meggie to cradle the infant in her arms, she pressed her foot to the carpet and set the rocker into motion.
He had a son. Jack had a son.
It explained so much, she thought as she rocked slowly to and fro. The emptiness in his eyes, the lack of emotion there. His avoidance of Billy and Molly. And it explained the question he'd asked her that night in the cabin.
How do you do it? How do you let them go?
She realized now that he'd asked the question out of personal need, not out of curiosity. It seemed that Jack was having a hard time dealing with the loss of his son and handling the grief associated with that loss.
She felt a kick against her stomach and focused once again on the baby she held. Meggie stared up at her, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. Smiling softly, Alayna touched a finger to the corner of the baby's mouth. Meggie turned her face at the touch, her mouth opening and seeking as if she were a baby bird waiting for her mommy bird to drop in a worm.
"And where are your mommy and daddy?" Alayna asked Meggie. With a regretful shake of her head, she reached for the bottle she'd left on the changing table and tickled Meggie's lips with its nipple. Meggie opened her mouth and began to suck greedily.
Alayna rocked slowly, staring down at the baby, her mind warring against all the injustices in the world. Lives lost in senseless tragedies. People with the ability to produce children like rabbits, but who didn't want the burden of a child, while others, who would trade anything for the gift of a child, were left childless.
Why? she cried silently. Oh, God, why?
There was no answer to her question, but then Alayna had expected none.
But she did recognize a similarity in her and Jack's lives. Jack had had a child, and lost him. Alayna had never had a child, but felt the same loss. Jack had lost a part of his heart on a highway somewhere. Alayna had lost a part of hers in a doctor's sterile office with the words, "You're barren."
Yet, she saw differences in their situations, as well. Alayna had discovered a way to share her love with a child, while Jack had closed his heart from feeling anything.
That's not true, she thought with a shake of her head, though it had been true when Jack had first arrived. But he had changed over the weeks he'd been with them. She'd seen the emotion that had darkened his eyes when he'd returned Molly's bear to her and Molly had kissed him. And she'd watched the way he interacted with Billy, a child he claimed to dislike, offering guidance to the boy with an equal measure of patience and care.
Oddly Alayna felt no need to meddle, or to offer the wisdom of her education to help Jack deal with his grief. The children—Billy, Molly, and even Meggie, she reflected, glancing down at the sleeping face of the infant she held—were doing a very good job of that on their own.
Jack braced a hand on the door, holding it in place while Billy aligned the pin above the hinge. "Just give the pin a slight tap to set it in place."
Billy lifted the hammer and thumped it against the metal pin's head, sinking it about a quarter of the way down into the hinge's slot. "Like that?" he asked, looking up at Jack for approval.
"Looks good to me. Now give it a few solid whacks, but be careful not to dent the pin's head."
Firming his lips in determination, Billy lifted the hammer and pounded it against the pin, setting it deeply in place. He braced the hammer against the floor of the porch and looked up at Jack again. "How's that?"
Jack shot him a grin. "Good job." He held out his hand and Billy passed him the hammer. Jack took another pin, and held it in place above the door's highest hinge. He lifted the hammer and drove the pin into the slot in one smooth swing.
"Wow," Billy murmured, impressed. "You only had to hit it once. It took me 'bout four swings."
Jack laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "Yeah, but I'm bigger than you and I've had more practice."
Laughing, Billy ducked from beneath Jack's hand and skipped down the steps at Jack's side. "What's next?" he asked. "Are we gonna hammer something else?"
"Nope. I thought we might try your hand at painting."
Billy raced ahead a few steps, then turned, jogging backward. "Cool, dude! I know how to paint. We paint all the time at school."
Jack laughed, thinking that the job he had in mind for Billy might be on a larger scale than the painting the boy had done in the classroom. "Good. Then you won't need much instruction."
Billy continued to jog backward, his arms pumping. "What're we gonna paint?"
"The gazebo."
Billy stumbled to a stop. "The gazebo?" he repeated. "The one by the pond?"
Jack stopped, too, frowning. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"
Billy stole a glance at the house, then looked back at Jack and grinned. "Nope. Race you!" he challenged and took off at a run for the barn.
Jack hesitated only a second, then loped after him. He caught up with Billy quickly, scooped the boy up underneath his arm and raced on.
Billy squealed, laughing as he bounced roughly against Jack's side.
* * *
Nine
« ^ »
"It sure is hot."
Jack wiped the excess paint from his brush, then nodded his head as he straightened to stand before one of the gazebo's support columns. "Yep, it is," he replied.
"I'll bet the water's cool, though."
Jack glanced over at Billy. The boy was standing, staring wistfully at the pond, his paintbrush hanging uselessly at his side, dripping paint onto the grass. Jack bit back a smile. "Yeah, I'll bet it is. You can take a break, if you want to. You're due one."
Billy whipped his head around, his eyes wide with excitement. "I can go swimming?"
"Can you swim?"
Billy grinned. "Sure I can!"
Jack gave him a nod. "Fine with me, then. Strip down to your drawers, so you'll have some dry clothes to put on when you're done."
Before the instructions were even out of Jack's mouth, Billy had dropped to the ground and was shucking off hi
s shoes and socks. He hopped back to his feet, peeling his shirt over his head. He gave his jeans a shove over his hips and kicked free of them, leaving him wearing nothing but a pair of Scooby Doo briefs. Jack shook his head, laughing as Billy raced for the pier.
Billy and those jeans of his, Jack thought, still chuckling. They were so big the kid didn't even have to bother with unbuttoning or unzipping them. He just gave them a shove and they dropped to the ground.
"Hey, Jack! Watch this!"
Billy stood at the end of the pier, waving wildly. Jack grinned and returned the wave. Taking a deep breath, the boy pinched his nose between thumb and finger and jumped in. Water splashed a good four feet in the air when the kid hit the surface in the worst belly flop of a dive Jack had ever seen.
Jack winced, feeling the sting on his own flesh, then shook his head, smiling wistfully. He remembered a time when he and his twin brother Travis used to have contests to see who could make the highest splash. Of course, Travis had always won. Of the two of them, Travis was the most athletic, the most daring. He could swim like a fish, hunt like a hound and had nerves of steel.
Jack frowned as he thought about his brother, wondering how Travis was managing alone, running the building business they owned in partnership. Jack shook off the guilt that rose, and focused his gaze on the pond, watching the ripples smooth, the water's surface turn to glass once again.
The boy ought to be coming up for air by now, he thought, and took a step toward the shore. He took another step, then he was running, stripping his shirt over his head. He ran down the pier, the boards pitching wildly beneath his feet. Keeping his eyes glued to the spot where Billy had jumped in, he kicked off his boots, took a deep breath and dived in.
Water burned through his nose as he plunged beneath the surface. He kicked hard, driving himself deeper, his arms pushing against the weight of the water and searching. Squinting his eyes against the murky water, he spun slowly, looking for some sign of Billy.
His lungs screamed for oxygen, and Jack knew that he had to find Billy soon. Time was running out.
That McCloud Woman Page 12