To a Macallister Born

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “I helped Jack fix junk, Grandpa,” Joey said. “We did men stuff together.”

  “So I heard,” his grandfather said. “And a fine job you did, too, Joey. Have you and Jack finished with all your projects around here?”

  “Yep,” Joey said. “We’re all done. Jack helped me make a birdhouse while I was ’cuperating from my operation, so it took him longer to do the house stuff ’cause he had to do it alone, but we’re done now. Right, Jack?”

  “Right, sport,” Jack said. “We’re a good team, you and I.”

  “Well, in my opinion,” Jennifer’s father went on, “this would be an excellent time to sell this place. It’s spruced up and ready to go on the market.”

  “You’re kidding,” Jennifer said, halting her fork halfway to her mouth. “Sell our family home?”

  “It’s too big for you, Jennifer, and too difficult to maintain,” her father said. “It’s yours to do with as you wish, but your mother and I would like to see you and Joey living in something smaller, newer. Maybe a town house, where all the outside maintenance is taken care of by an association.”

  “But…but I grew up in this house,” Jennifer said, setting her fork back onto her plate. “And I could never accept money that belonged to you and Mom.”

  “Dear,” her mother said, “your father and I have fond memories of the many years we lived here. All we’re saying is, it’s perfectly fine with us if you’d like to sell this rambling old place. Things change, and it’s often best to let go of the past and look to the future.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jennifer said.

  “Just think about it,” her father said. “Thanks to…Joey and the help Jack gave our young man in repairing this place, it’s market ready.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Aunt Charity said. “Let go of the past and look to the future. That’s excellent advice, Jennifer.”

  “Yes, it is, dear,” Aunt Prudence said.

  “Joey?” Jennifer said. “Do you have an opinion about this?”

  “If we moved someplace else,” Joey said, “could I take my swing set?”

  “Yes, of course,” Jennifer said.

  “’Kay.” Joey shrugged, then shoveled in a mouthful of potatoes.

  “It would complicate my life,” Jennifer said. “I have such a good setup with Mildred Clark next door to tend Joey while I’m working.”

  “Mildred left yesterday to visit her daughter in Toledo,” Aunt Charity said, “and won’t be back until after the new year. Your routine is already blown to Timbuktu.”

  “Well, yes, I know,” Jennifer said, “and I haven’t solved that problem yet, but…Goodness, actually sell this house?”

  “Want us to vote on it, Jennifer?” Brandon said. “You won’t have to get in a dither about it. We’ll decide for you, wonderful folks that we are.”

  Jennifer laughed and shook her head. “No, thank you, Brandon. I need to give this some very serious thought. Let’s change the subject to your house.”

  “Funny you should bring that up,” Brandon said, smiling. “I just happen to have brought along the plans that Jack drew for us.”

  “Which you will all gush over, like it or not,” Andrea said, smiling, “or Brandon will pout.”

  “You betcha I will,” he said. “It’s going to be a fantastic house. The contractor is ready to roll, and we break ground next week.”

  “Oh, congratulations,” Jennifer said, smiling warmly. “That’s so exciting.”

  “Well, Jack,” Aunt Charity said, “sounds to me like you’ve wrapped up all your projects. What are you going to do with yourself, hotshot?”

  Jack slid his hand across Jennifer’s knee beneath the table. She jumped slightly at the sudden, tantalizing touch, and felt her eyes widen.

  “Gosh, Aunt Charity,” Jack said. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

  “Thought you might, big boy,” Aunt Charity said, cackling merrily.

  Jennifer reached beneath the table and smacked Jack’s hand where it still rested on her knee, causing him to burst into laughter.

  “What’s funny?” Joey said, frowning.

  “Nothing, sweetheart,” Jennifer said, hoping her cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. “Brandon, don’t forget that you’re taking turkey sandwiches to Cable Montana when you leave. I invited him to join us today, but he said that since he was single, he’d stay on duty and free up one of the married deputies.”

  “Nice save, Ms. Mackane,” Jack said quietly, grinning at her.

  “Hush, hush,” Jennifer whispered, shooting him a quick glare.

  Jack laughed again.

  “What’s funny?” Joey repeated louder.

  “Not—a—thing,” Jennifer said firmly.

  “Ah, yes, Hunk-of-Stuff Montana,” Aunt Charity said. “He’s one of the candidates in the bachelor bet.”

  “Oh, boy,” Jack said, frowning and shaking his head. “Here we go.”

  “I do believe,” Aunt Charity said, tapping one fingertip against her chin, “that I’ll plead senility and admit that I made a mistake when I put my money on Jack getting married. Yes, I’m officially withdrawing my wager.”

  Jack scowled and leaned forward so he could see Aunt Charity, who was farther down the table.

  “Why?” he said.

  “You’re just not husband material, hotshot,” Aunt Charity said. “Nope, I’m not blowing my cash by betting on you.”

  “I’m not husband material?” Jack said, his voice rising. “Why not? What in the—” he looked quickly at Joey “—heck is wrong with me?”

  “Charity, dear,” Aunt Prudence said, “I’m well aware that our Jack wouldn’t be what one might prefer to have in a husband, but I’m not certain that Thanksgiving dinner is the proper place to discuss it.”

  “You feel the same way, Aunt Pru?” Jack said, then slouched back in his chair. “I don’t believe this. Anyone else want to get on this bandwagon?”

  “Well, now that you mention it,” Brandon said, staring into space.

  “Hey, I demand an explanation,” Jack said. “This is really rotten stuff you’re laying on me here.”

  “Jack would be a good groom guy,” Joey said. “He has a suit and tie, and everything.”

  “Thank you, Joey,” Jack said. “I appreciate your support.”

  “Uncle Brandon could teach you how to kiss so you could make a baby, Jack,” Joey said.

  “Oh, okay,” Jack said, chuckling.

  “Nope,” Aunt Charity said. “Jack isn’t going to be a groom guy, Joey.”

  “I repeat,” Jack said. “Why not?”

  “You moved in the fast lane in New York City for too long, big boy,” Aunt Charity said. “Brandon got out of that scene in the nick of time, but you’re hopeless. You’re a love-’em-and-leave-’em type, no doubt about it.” She shook her head. “Can’t see you mowing the lawn, taking out the trash, changing diapers. You’re off to California to make whoopee with the beach bunnies.”

  “What’s ‘whoopee?”’ Joey said.

  “I certainly am not,” Jack said. “I haven’t given one thought to the beach. Or the bunnies. I’m really getting insulted here.”

  “Don’t know why,” Jennifer’s father said. “Not everyone is cut out for marriage, Jack. That’s just the way it is sometimes.”

  “I’ll have you know, all of you,” Jack said, sweeping one hand through the air, “that I would be a dynamite husband.” He nodded decisively. “I’m kind, thoughtful, would honor my wedding vows until the day I died. I could change a diaper if I had to…sure, I could do that. I’m handy around the house, could learn to pick up my socks and—”

  Jack stopped speaking and glanced around the table. Everyone, except Jennifer, was smiling at him. Jennifer was simply staring at him with wide eyes, a rather stunned expression on her face.

  “I’ve been had,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I fell for it hook, line and sinker. You’re a devious woman, Aunt Charity.”

  “Jus
t checking up on my twenty bucks,” she said, looking extremely pleased with herself.

  “I’m still not convinced that Jack is cut out to be a husband,” Brandon said.

  “Don’t count your money yet, Aunt Charity,” Megan said. “Just because Jack feels he’d be a good husband doesn’t mean he wants to be one.”

  “Bingo,” Jack said, acknowledging Megan. “Got it in one.”

  “That doesn’t work, Megan,” Ben said. “We men can be so dense on the subject of marriage that we oftentimes don’t know that we want that kind of commitment, when in actuality we do.”

  “Oh, brother,” Jack said, rolling his eyes heavenward.

  “Spare me.”

  “Would anyone like some pumpkin pie?” Jennifer asked, but no one paid any attention to her.

  “You’re right, Ben,” Brandon said. “I’m a clear-cut example of that theory.”

  “And look at you now,” Andrea said, smiling as she patted her protruding stomach.

  Brandon dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “I’m a happy man,” he said. “Ecstatic. Over the moon and—”

  “Give it a rest, Hamilton,” Jack said gruffly.

  “This is all very interesting,” Jennifer’s father said, stroking his chin, “and just confusing and complicated enough that I believe I’ll pass on putting money on the bachelor bet in regard to Jack. I couldn’t be certain which way to bet. Yes, this is very complicated.”

  Tell me about it, Jack thought. His poor muddled brain was dissolving into dust.

  Marry Jennifer Mackane? Be a groom guy? A daddy bear? Oh, man, what a terrifying thought.

  Or…or was it?

  “Pumpkin pie with whipped cream?” Jennifer said, raising her eyebrows. “As in, we’re changing the subject and concentrating on dessert? The topic of marriage has been known to give some people indigestion.”

  “Some people?” Jack said, no hint of a smile on his face. “Meaning you? I suppose you’re with Brandon, agreeing with him that I’d make a lousy husband.”

  Jennifer turned her head slowly to meet Jack’s frowning gaze. “No,” she said quietly. “I think you’d make a wonderful husband, Jack.” She paused. “Providing you found the right woman.”

  I have, damn it, Jack’s mind yelled. You! I love you, Jennifer Mackane. What’s it going to take for you to trust and believe in me enough to love me in return?

  Oh, heaven help him, he did want to marry this woman, spend the rest of his life with her. And with Joey. And the children that he and Jennifer would create together while making sweet, sweet love in the darkness of night.

  Jennifer switched her attention to the group. “Pie?” she said, her voice not quite steady.

  “Yes,” Andrea said quickly, “it’s definitely time for pumpkin pie.”

  Jennifer got to her feet, picked up her plate and Joey’s, then hurried into the kitchen.

  Get a grip, Jennifer, please, she begged herself, putting the plates on the counter. She was rapidly losing the control that she’d assured Andrea she had.

  Jack MacAllister in the role of a husband? Oh, yes. To a woman other than her? Oh, no. No, no, no. She couldn’t bear the thought of his pledging his love forever to another woman.

  She wanted Jack’s forever to be with her.

  Love, trust—they were emotions she’d sworn never again to have in regard to a man, but she wanted desperately to put her faith in Jack. To believe that he was different.

  “Oh, Jennifer,” she whispered, “you foolish, foolish woman. Now you want it all—and none of it is yours to have.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack stood in front of the fireplace in Jennifer’s living room, staring into the leaping flames. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his slacks and a deep frown knitted his brows.

  That afternoon and on into the evening following the Thanksgiving dinner were a blur, he realized. No one had commented on the fact that he was acting strangely, so he must have performed in a halfway normal manner.

  But the truth of the matter was, he’d been withdrawn, centered on his own raging thoughts.

  Everything was happening too quickly, not allowing him time to adjust, to come to grips with the new and startling direction his life was taking.

  He was in love for the first time. He’d forgotten the painful lessons about trusting too easily, believing that a woman was actually who she presented herself to be.

  Oh, yes, he was, indeed, deeply in love with Jennifer Mackane.

  Even more unsettling was the realization that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Marry her, for God’s sake. Be a groom guy for Jennifer, and a daddy bear for Joey.

  Jack shook his head and sighed wearily. He needed to be alone, to get a handle on all this. The thought of a lifelong commitment terrified him, yet the idea of walking out of Jennifer’s life forever was too chilling to bear.

  “I’m a wreck,” he said under his breath. “I’m totally losing it.”

  Jennifer stood at the entrance to the living room and stared at Jack, seeing the slump of his shoulders and hearing his deep sigh. He muttered something she couldn’t make out, but she knew it was further evidence that he was troubled, upset.

  He had been preoccupied since dinner, a fact of which no one but her, apparently, had been aware.

  Had the silly conversation about the bachelor bet disturbed him? Jennifer wondered. Had Jack felt cornered when everyone focused on whether or not he was husband material?

  Was he angry at himself for adamantly stating that he was very capable of being a good husband and father, when he had no desire whatsoever to function in either of those roles?

  Oh, she didn’t know what was on Jack’s mind, knew only that he hadn’t been himself since dinner. The way to discover what was bothering him was to come right out and ask.

  But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that.

  She, too, had functioned on two levels since the Thanksgiving meal. Outwardly she had been cheerful, pleasant, an attentive hostess.

  But another part of her had been struggling with the newfound truth that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Jack MacAllister. Be his wife, the mother of his children, watch him perform in the role of Daddy Bear for her beloved Joey.

  She wanted it all, and had fought against threatening tears throughout the seemingly endless hours that everyone was at the house, as her mind screamed unrelentingly that none of it was hers to have.

  No, she couldn’t ask Jack what was troubling him. It was too risky. Suppose, just suppose, that despite his own preoccupation he’d been aware of hers? What if he returned the question, wanted to know what had been wrong with her in the hours following dinner?

  So much for communication between a man and a woman, Jennifer thought dryly. She was breaking one of the important rules of being in a relationship, but she had no choice but to keep silent.

  Jennifer lifted her chin and walked farther into the living room. “Joey’s asleep,” she said, forcing a lightness to her voice. “He had such fun today, but he’s thoroughly worn out.”

  Jack turned from staring into the flames and looked at Jennifer. “That’s good,” he said. “I mean, it’s not good that he’s worn out, but it’s good that he’s asleep, getting his rest and…Never mind.”

  Jennifer sat down on one end of the sofa. “Would you like some coffee, Jack? Brandy? There’s some of that wine you brought left, too.”

  “No. No, I’m fine, thank you.”

  You are not fine, Jack MacAllister, Jennifer thought. Oh, what, what, what was troubling him?

  “I—I hope you enjoyed yourself here today, Jack,” she said.

  Jack slouched onto the sofa, rested his head on its back and looked at the ceiling. Jennifer slid a glance at him and registered the distance he’d put between them. A cold knot tightened in her stomach.

  “It was really great,” Jack said, still staring at the ceiling. “It’s been years since I’ve been part of a traditional Thanksgiving celebration. It was�
��very nice.” He paused. “Tiring, though. All that chatter and…Wipes a person out.”

  “Well…”

  Jack turned his head to look at Jennifer. “Aren’t you exhausted?” he said.

  “Well…”

  He lunged to his feet, and Jennifer jerked in surprise.

  “Sure you are,” he said. “Listen, I’m going to shove off and let you relax, then get to bed early. Okay? Yeah, good idea.”

  Oh, Jack, Jennifer thought, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes once again. What is wrong?

  She got to her feet.

  “All right,” she said, hoping, praying that her voice was steady.

  “I—I’m going to drive down to Phoenix tomorrow, Jennifer,” Jack said, directing his attention to the fire again. “I’ve never been there, and I’d like to take a look at some of the historical buildings. I might…might stay a couple of days. It’s a big city. Lots for an architect to take in. You know?”

  Lame, MacAllister, he thought. But he needed some time alone to make sense of the jumbled mess his mind had become.

  “Yes,” Jennifer said softly. “Phoenix is very big city. Very big.”

  Jack nodded, then strode across the room to the front closet and retrieved his jacket. Jennifer walked toward him slowly and met him at the front door.

  He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll call you, or come by, when I get back to Prescott,” he said.

  Jennifer nodded, unable to speak past the ache of tears in her throat.

  Jack looked directly at her, an intense but unreadable expression on his face. He lifted one hand and drew his thumb gently over her cheek.

  “Ah, Jennifer, I…” he started, then stopped speaking and shook his head. “Good night.”

  “’Night,” Jennifer managed to whisper.

  Jack left the house, closing the door behind him with a click. Jennifer snapped the lock into place, then leaned her forehead against the smooth wood and allowed the pent-up tears to flow.

  Jennifer was scheduled to work days starting on the Monday following Thanksgiving, requiring her to be at the hotel at seven a.m. and leave at 4:00 p.m.

  Due to Mildred Clark’s vacation, Jennifer made arrangements to drop Joey off at Sammy’s house in the early morning.