To a Macallister Born

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  He began the rocking rhythm, and she matched him beat for beat in perfect unison. He increased the tempo, harder, faster, thundering, as they climbed higher and higher, reaching…reaching…

  “Jack!” Jennifer said as she was flung into glorious oblivion.

  He joined her there a second later, a groan rumbling deep in his chest.

  They hovered, then floated back slowly. Jack kissed her, then moved off her, tucking her close to his side as he collapsed next to her, spent, sated.

  “Oh, my,” Jennifer whispered.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jack said.

  “I’ve never felt so…There aren’t words to describe how…” Jennifer smiled. “I think I’ll just shut up.”

  Jack chuckled. “Okay.” He paused and frowned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? It’s been a long time since you’ve—What I mean is…”

  Jennifer smiled at him. “I think you should just shut up.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Mmm,” she said, her lashes drifting down.

  “Don’t go to sleep,” Jack said, then yawned. “It wouldn’t be too great if Joey came bouncing in the door in the morning and found us here.”

  Jennifer’s eyes flew open again. “Don’t even think such a thing. Jack, we must be very careful around Joey. He mustn’t even see us kissing.”

  “No joke,” he said, chuckling. “He’d tell the world that he saw us making a baby. Hey, you kiss, you get yourself a kid.”

  “Yep, that’s how it’s done,” Jennifer said, laughing. She sobered in the next moment. “Joey is so innocent. I’d give anything to protect him from the world as it really is.” She paused. “I suppose every mother feels that way.”

  “Some more than others.” Jack rolled to his side, supporting his weight on his forearm so he could look directly at Jennifer. “It would depend on the mother’s past experiences—if she’d been badly hurt, or had just sailed through life without having endured any emotional bumps and bruises.”

  “Mmm,” Jennifer said, frowning.

  “If the mother—that woman—” Jack went on, “was bitter, no longer trusted easily, she’d have to be careful that she didn’t…I don’t know…brainwash her child, make him wary of reaching out to people.”

  “I would never do that to Joey, even though—Never mind. It’s getting awfully late, Jack. I hate to end this wonderful night, but I have to get some sleep so I can function tomorrow.”

  “Back up a minute,” he said. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jennifer moved away from Jack, then got to her feet and began to gather her strewn clothes.

  What was she hiding? Jack thought, watching her. He’d bet a buck it had something to do with Joe Mackane. Would Jennifer ever trust Jack enough to share her past with him?

  Whether she did or not shouldn’t matter, considering the temporary status of their relationship. They were living for the moment, with no plans for a future together. Their pasts held no importance in the overall scheme of things.

  No, it shouldn’t matter how deeply Jennifer’s trust of him went. But it did. She’d given him the gift of her body, shared the most intimate act there was between a man and a woman. Why couldn’t she trust him with her innermost secrets, as well?

  “Jack?” Jennifer said, her clothes bundled up in her arms.

  “What? Oh. Yeah, I’m getting it in gear.”

  He rolled to his feet and dressed quickly, shrugging into his jacket as he stood by the front door.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said. “I won’t come back until I know that Joey’s in school so there won’t be a hassle about him wanting to stay home and help me with the repairs with his mighty hammer.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Fine.”

  Jack slid one hand to the nape of Jennifer’s neck and kissed her. “Thank you, Jennifer. I mean that sincerely—thank you,” he said quietly, then turned and left the house, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

  “And I thank you,” Jennifer whispered, staring at the door, “for making me feel so special, so womanly, so incredibly alive.”

  With a wistful sigh and a gentle smile on her lips, Jennifer headed for bed.

  The next morning, Jack slid onto a chair at a table in the dining room at Hamilton House. He smiled and greeted Andrea and Brandon, Aunt Charity and Aunt Prudence.

  “I’m running a little late,” he said. “I slept longer than usual.”

  “It’s probably because of the altitude here in Prescott,” Andrea said. “Being a mile high makes many people tired until they adjust to it.”

  “Yep, that’s it, I imagine,” Jack said, picking up the menu that had been left for him by the waitress. “The altitude.”

  “So?” Brandon said. “Report, Jack. Do you have any information to share with us about Jennifer?”

  “Yeah, big boy,” Aunt Charity said. “What have you learned? Andrea and Brandon filled Pru and me in on your theory that Jennifer was unhappy with Joe Mackane. We all assumed the opposite because she named Joey after his father. We figured Jennifer refused to even date because she was holding fast to memories of sweet bliss with her husband.”

  “Which is fine to a point,” Prudence said, “but there comes a time when a person should move forward with their life…It was distressing enough to us that Jennifer seemed to be living in the past when that past had been, to her, near perfection. To think it might have been just the opposite is heartbreaking. If that’s true, we must help her free herself of those memories of misery.”

  “I think I’ll have pancakes,” Jack said, signaling to the waitress.

  Brandon drummed his fingers impatiently on the tablecloth as Jack placed his order, then sipped the hot coffee the waitress had poured into his cup. “Come on, MacAllister,” Brandon said. “What, if anything, do you have to tell us?”

  Jack frowned as he stared into the coffee cup. Damn, he thought, he was suddenly very uncomfortable with the idea of reporting on whatever subtle little clues he’d picked up regarding Jennifer’s marriage to Mackane.

  He now knew Jennifer did not believe that Joe Mackane would have been a devoted and loving father to Joey. He didn’t know why she felt that way, only that she did.

  He could make this group’s day—this committee-to-save-Jennifer-from-herself—by passing along that tidbit. But he was registering a sense of protectiveness and possessiveness about Jennifer, about the special world the two of them created when they were together, a place where no one else was allowed to enter.

  Was he being totally selfish? A really rotten guy? If what he divulged to Andrea, Brandon and the aunts made it possible for them to help Jennifer, she could very well embrace the thought of a future with a special man—a husband for her, a father for Joey.

  Damn, he hated the idea of some other guy touching Jennifer, holding and kissing her, making love to her in the secret, dark hours of the night. Really, really hated that thought.

  Ah, hell, he was boggling his mind again. Why was he doing this to himself? He and Jennifer had reached an understanding about the temporary, no-strings-attached status of their relationship. They’d discussed it like mature adults and reached ground rules that were acceptable to both of them.

  He should be kicking back and enjoying the time he had left with Jennifer while he was in Prescott. But, oh, no, not him. Now he was thinking again, and turning his beleaguered mind into scrambled eggs.

  “Pancakes,” the waitress said.

  Jack jerked in his chair as he was brought back to attention, then moved his coffee cup out of the way so a huge plate could be placed in front of him. He had, he realized, staring at the tower of pancakes, lost his appetite.

  “All set?” the waitress said.

  “Yes. Fine,” Jack said. “Thank you.”

  “Are you back with us now, buddy?” Brandon said. “You were so deep in thought, I swear they could have dropped a bomb in here, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “Yeah, well…” Jack�
�s voice trailed off, and he busied himself buttering the pancakes and dribbling syrup over them from a small china pitcher.

  “There he goes again,” Brandon said, throwing up his hands. “Zoned.”

  Andrea nibbled absently on a piece of toast as she studied Jack. “There’s something troubling you, isn’t there, Jack,” she said finally.

  Jack took a bite of pancakes, chewed, swallowed, then sighed. “Look,” he said, sweeping his gaze over everyone at the table. “How would you feel if a group of people were discussing you in a very personal manner behind your back? People you believed were your friends and cared about you very deeply. It’s pretty tacky, you know what I mean?”

  “But we’re doing this because we do care about Jennifer,” Brandon said. “Hey, you were the one who brought up the possibility that Jennifer had a lousy marriage. This was your plan, MacAllister. Now you’re on our case because we agree that we should pursue it because Jennifer is part of our family and we love her. What’s with you?”

  “Honey, calm down,” Andrea said to Brandon. “Jack is obviously having second thoughts about reporting what he may have discovered about Jennifer’s past. We have to respect that.”

  “No, we don’t,” Brandon said. “How are we going to help Jennifer if we don’t know if she needs us to help her?” He frowned. “Did that make sense?”

  Aunt Charity narrowed her eyes as she stared at Jack. “Something’s cooking in the kitchen. Okay, big boy, what’s going on?”

  Jack pushed his plate away, unable to take another bite of the sweet, gooey breakfast.

  “Nothing is ‘going on,’ Aunt Charity,” he said. “I just…Ah, hell, forget it. Can we just cancel this whole plan? Forget I ever brought up the subject of Jennifer’s past, her marriage to Mackane?”

  “No,” Brandon and Aunt Charity said in unison.

  “I’m a tad confused, Jack dear,” Aunt Prudence said. “Our hearts are in the right place on this matter, as I believe you know. Don’t you feel that Jennifer is worth whatever efforts we might make on her behalf?”

  “Is Jennifer worth—” Jack began. “Aunt Prudence, Jennifer is one in a million—a very rare, special and wonderful woman. She’s real, honest, open and is a terrific mother to a fantastic little boy who…” He glanced at Andrea, who was smiling at him. “What’s your problem?” he said gruffly.

  “I don’t have one,” Andrea said. “I’m not the person at this table who is acting like a protective knight of the Round Table, or whatever, in regard to Jennifer. Nope, not me.”

  “Give it a rest,” Jack said gruffly. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to analyze every little thing a person does or says, when they have no clue you’re doing it.”

  “It’s based on love, dear,” Aunt Prudence said.

  Jack stared up at the ceiling for what felt like a long moment, then shook his head as he looked at the group again. “Okay,” he said wearily. “I’m outnumbered. I give up. Jennifer let it slip that she didn’t believe Joe Mackane would have been a loving and devoted father to Joey.”

  “Oh, my stars,” Aunt Prudence said. “How very distressing.”

  “A dud as a daddy, huh?” Aunt Charity said. “What about as a husband? Get a scoop on that?”

  “No,” Jack said, getting to his feet. He dug into the pocket of his jeans, then dropped several bills onto the table. “I have things to do. See ya.”

  He turned and strode across the dining room.

  Jack walked along the sidewalk, mentally grumbling as he headed for Jennifer’s house. He shouldn’t have told Andrea, Brandon and the aunts what Jennifer had said about Mackane not being good father material for Joey, he admonished himself. That was Jennifer’s private business, and not for public knowledge.

  Then again, the public, in the form of the four people at the table at Hamilton House, weren’t nosy nobodies. They loved Jennifer, wanted only the best for her.

  If Jennifer had, indeed, had a miserable marriage with Joe Mackane, it would be those same four caring people who just might be able to help her let go of the painful memories and move forward.

  Who was he to be spilling the beans regarding Jennifer and Joe? Jennifer and Joe. Erase that. He didn’t like the sound of their names as a couple echoing in his mind. Jennifer and Joe. Joe and Jennifer. No. No way.

  Forget it.

  It was supposed to be Jennifer and Jack.

  Jack nearly stumbled at the impact of his last rambling thought. Where in the hell had that come from? The way it had flowed in his head made it seem as though Jack was next in line for being the groom guy, the daddy bear.

  Not a chance.

  Slow down, MacAllister, he ordered himself. He was being too hard on himself. Of course he’d think in terms of Jennifer and Jack because, for now, they were together, and would be until he left Prescott to begin his new life in California.

  So there was nothing wrong with mentally linking his name with Jennifer’s for the time being. They were, after all, engaged in an affair.

  Jack frowned and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he trudged on. Affair, his mind echoed. That was a rather pitiful word to describe what he was sharing with Jennifer. Affairs were centered on sex, on physical gratification, with no emotional involvement.

  No, he wasn’t having an affair with Jennifer Mackane. It was more than that—richer, deeper, meaningful. They hadn’t engaged in sex, they’d made love.

  And there were emotions involved. He cared for Jennifer, respected her. It mattered—hell, yes, it mattered—that he never did anything to hurt Jennifer, never made her cry.

  Fine. That was fine. There were no dangerous emotions lurking in the shadows, threatening to sneak up on him, to cause him to wake up one morning and discover that he’d committed the ultimate act of stupidity and fallen head-over-heels in love with Jennifer.

  Nope. Couldn’t happen. He and Jennifer knew where they stood in regard to their…their relationship. Everything was under control.

  Jennifer’s house came into view, and Jack quickened his step, aware of a sense of anticipation over seeing Jennifer, kissing her, hearing her laughter.

  As for the I Spy number he was engaged in for Andrea, Brandon and the aunts…well, he’d figure that out later, decide what was the right thing to do.

  Yeah, he’d tackle that problem later, because right now he was within minutes of holding Jennifer Mackane in his arms.

  Chapter Nine

  On Saturday morning, Jennifer lay in bed blissfully indulging herself by reliving the events that had taken place since she and Jack had first made love on Tuesday night.

  So-o-o wonderful, she thought dreamily. The lovemaking she and Jack had shared every night since then had been incredibly beautiful, like nothing she’d experienced before or even imagined possible in her most fantasy-filled daydreams.

  But that intimacy was only a part of what had made these days and nights so special, so meaningful. She’d been warmed to the very tips of her toes as she’d watched Joey and Jack working together on the repairs of the house.

  Jack was so patient with Joey—answered her son’s endless questions, allowed Joey to take an active part in the project, which undoubtedly was slowing Jack down.

  There was lunch together, too, the three of them sitting at the kitchen table, chatting and laughing as they consumed the meal she had prepared.

  Joey now wanted his sandwich cut just like Jack’s, the same number of ice cubes in his glass as Jack had in his, and carefully spread his napkin over one knee precisely the way Jack did.

  Joey hung on Jack’s every word, had reversed his recent stand that bubbles in his bath were for babies when Jack declared bubble baths to be a majorly fun event.

  Jennifer frowned and shifted restlessly on the bed.

  Was Joey becoming too attached to Jack? Was her little boy headed for heartbreak whenever Jack left, even though he was reminded, when the opportunity presented itself, that Jack was leaving for California before Christmas?


  Was Joey listening to what was said to him, but refusing to really hear that Jack would be walking out of their lives forever in just a few weeks?

  Forever, Jennifer’s mind echoed. Jack would be gone…forever.

  A chill swept through her and she pulled the blankets to beneath her chin.

  Jennifer, don’t, she ordered herself. She knew Jack was leaving, knew that what they were now sharing was temporary. She knew that.

  Jack’s definite departure was, in fact, the reason she’d had enough courage to enter into a relationship with him in the first place. There was no danger of Jack asking more of her than she was prepared to give, because he wouldn’t be there to pressure her.

  She knew all that.

  Then why did the image of Jack saying goodbye for the last time cause such a cold emptiness to suddenly consume her? The future—the days, weeks, months, years—loomed before her with such a bleak sameness, as if something of vital importance was definitely missing.

  Oh, dear heaven, what was happening to her? Was she, not Joey, the one whose heart would be shattered when Jack said his final farewell?

  “No, no, no,” she said, flinging back the blankets and sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. In control. Know the facts. I’m hunky-dory. A-okay.”

  “Who are you talking to, Mom?” Joey said, coming into the bedroom.

  Jennifer shoved her feet into her slippers. “Big Bird. I talk to my slippers when you’re not around to listen to me. Big Bird is a great audience.” She smiled at her son. “How’s my big boy this morning? Ready for some breakfast, my sweet?”

  Joey crawled up onto the bed and lay down. “I’m not hungry,” he said. “My stomach hurts on my belly button.”

  Jennifer frowned and turned to place her hand on Joey’s forehead. “You’re a little warm,” she said. “Why don’t you snuggle in there and see if you can go back to sleep for a bit? I’ll bring you some juice, then you try to snore. Okay?”

  “No, Mom, I want to help Jack when he comes,” Joey whined.