by Jeanne Allan
When an unrepentant Lorie eventually phoned, Addy had managed to convince her sister Addy needed more than Lorie’s blithe assurance it was OK for Addy to raise Emilie. Addy didn’t even like to remember the paperwork, the social worker visits and the courtroom appearances she’d endured before gaining legal custody of Emilie. Legally forever, the lawyer had promised.
Addy brushed aside lace curtains at the window. Record heat, the forecast had said, and nature had delivered. Early afternoon, not so much as a bird moved. No breeze fluttered the aspen leaves or stirred the boughs of the giant blue spruces. Even the wild roses atop the rock wall lining the dirt road looked pale and wilted. The air smelled of dust. Shuttered from the heat, the homes climbing the hillside overlooking the highway up Ute Pass, looked uninhabited. Invaders from outer space might have kidnapped all the residents of Ute Pass. Or perhaps they’d been frightened away by Big Foot, a legendary hairy monster some claimed roamed around Green Mountain Falls.
Big Foot frightened Addy less than the monsters she wrestled on sleepless nights. Such as television images of a small child screaming hysterically as he’d been dragged from the arms of the only mother he’d ever known to be given to his birth parents. Perhaps that mother had believed in legally forever.
A deep male voice sounded from the depths of the big, old house. Sam Dawson. He hadn’t found her great-grandmother’s clothespin. She’d refused to accept his apologies. She didn’t want apologies from him. She wanted his disappearance from the face of her earth. She wanted her talisman back. Fear clogged her throat. She wanted the few, insignificant problems she’d faced a week ago in place of this letter with its daunting possibilities and unspoken menace.
Addy picked the letter up, smoothed the paper, and reread the typed words. The letter said nothing about custody or visitation rights. Nothing in the letter should cause Addy to feel the least bit threatened. She had nothing to worry about. The man might have tons of money and a battery of lawyers, but he didn’t care about Emilie. Loving Emilie counted for everything.
Addy walked quietly to the bedroom where Emilie napped. A dirty bandage wrapped the finger where Sweetie Pie, Cora’s Siamese cat, had scratched the little girl. Living in apartments, watching every penny, they’d never had a pet. Addy’s gaze traveled around the room. No expensive toys littered the floor. No outrageously priced dresses hung in Emilie’s closet. Not that judges considered such things. Addy loved Emilie. Lots of children grew up just fine without big homes and pets. Without fathers. Judges knew that.
If Addy were married, Emilie would have a father. Chilled in spite of the warm afternoon, Addy wrapped her arms around her upper body. Judges liked nuclear families. Dad, Mom and the kids. Lorie’s lover had a wife. He might have other children.
Addy rubbed her arms and thought about the women’s proposal to match her up. Women no longer relied on men to solve their problems. She squeezed her arms, pinching her flesh with her fingers. Emilie didn’t need a father.
Emilie mumbled in her sleep. She’d missed a smear of jelly on her cheek when washing her after lunch. Addy loved Emilie so much it sometimes hurt. At first she’d loved her for Lorie; now she loved Emilie because she was Emilie. Addy would fight for the little girl. She wouldn’t lose her. She wouldn’t let her sister down. No matter what she had to do.
The words echoed thunderously in her head. No matter what she had to do. An image of her great-grandmother’s clothespin formed in her mind. Johnson women didn’t cry or whine or bemoan the fates. Johnson women did what had to be done. Addy tiptoed from the room. She’d find herself a husband. She’d give Emilie a nuclear family. No judge would take Emilie away from her then.
“Jim Carlson.” The voice came from the vine-shaded end of the large covered porch. “Lawyer, thirty-eight years old, used to swing a hell of a baseball bat. Newly divorced, looking for a replacement cook, house cleaner and hostess for his clients. Not to mention he needs a mom for the weekends he has custody of his kids. Teenagers are supposed to be hell to deal with.”
Addy watched a hummingbird dart among the tubular blossoms of a patch of scarlet gilia. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope you’ll have the decency to go inside before he arrives.”
“None,” Sam said. “Jim grew up here, and we go way back. My brothers and I spent most of our vacations and many a school year here in Colorado with Grandmother and Granddad. You’re not in such a hurry to get him alone you can’t allow us a little reminiscing, are you?”
In a hurry to go out on her first date in years? With a man she knew only by sight? Equal parts reluctance and trepidation unsettled her stomach. Hours of racking her brain left Addy convinced she needed to marry to secure Emilie’s future, yet she couldn’t totally repress repugnance at the notion of snaring a husband. Her schizophrenic emotions threw her into the ladies’ scheme with less than wholehearted enthusiasm.
Addy was going to dinner with Jim Carlson because she’d drawn his name first. He was Phoebe’s candidate. The four women had each written a name on a slip of paper and thrown them in a bowl. Before she’d drawn a name, Addy had made a bargain with the women. She’d give each of the “husband candidates,” as Belle called them, two dates. After that, Addy made no promises, her “escape hatch” if the situation proved untenable. Their instant agreement to the stipulation nagged at her like a barely lopsided bead. She knew a flaw existed; she just couldn’t find it. The ease with which the women had solved her baby-sitting concerns and the speed at which they’d arranged her first date had not lessened her sense of disquiet. The thought came to her the women shared her worries and concerns about Emilie’s future.
Creaking wicker furniture reminded Addy of Sam’s presence. “I don’t want to discuss my social life with you,” she said.
“Why are you going along with this ridiculous idea?”
Addy needed to marry for Emilie’s sake. She didn’t need to discuss the situation with Samuel Dawson. “What idea?”
“Allowing four old ladies to pick out a husband for you.”
“Nobody’s picking out a husband for me.” Addy would pick. “Apparently everyone up and down Ute Pass thinks I need more of a social life. Cora, Phoebe, Belle and your grandmother persuaded me to allow them to introduce me to some single men they know.”
A low hoot of laughter mocked her statement, and the furniture creaked again. “If this is a crack-brained scheme to make me jealous, it won’t work, Adeline.”
“Carrying around that huge ego must be exhausting work.”
Sam moved out of the shadows, and perched on the porch banister near where she stood, his critical gaze sweeping her from head to toe. “I assume wives of small-town lawyers are wearing pink-checked dresses and pearls these days.”
Phoebe had selected the outfit. Addy had her doubts. Cora’s granddaughter’s dress fit so snugly, Addy could barely breathe, much less eat. She had no intention of sharing her misgivings with Sam Dawson. “Don’t you have something better to do than harass me?”
“Nope. I sat with Emilie while she ate her supper and now Grandmother and Phoebe are supervising Emilie’s bath. Ah, here comes Prince Charming.”
Stepping from his car, the balding, slightly stooped man waved. As he climbed the old rock stairs and headed up the sidewalk, Addy noticed the clothes hanging on Jim Carlson’s lank body could do with a good pressing. He wasn’t handsome, but he had warm brown eyes and looked kind. Addy knew him to nod hello, but they’d never actually met.
The two men greeted each other with the familiarity of old friends. “Of course you know Ms. Johnson,” Sam said, “since you’re taking her out to dinner.”
Addy smiled warmly at Jim Carlson. “Call me Addy.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at her, before reminding Jim of a baseball game they’d played years ago. Immediately the two men began rehashing their days of youthful athletics. Addy stood patiently, smiling politely when either man remembered her presence long enough to glance at her.
“Yes, Jimmy’s the best
player on his baseball team,” Jim bragged. They’d moved on to his boys as a topic of conversation.
“You have two boys?” Sam asked. “How old?”
“Jimmy’s twelve—”
“Almost a teenager.” Sam flashed Addy a significant look.
“Right. And Johnny’s ten,” Jim said.
“How old is Emilie, Adeline?” Sam asked.
Addy gave him a dark look to remind him she disliked his mocking use of her name. “She’s almost five.”
Jim Carlson looked at her in surprise. “I didn’t realize you’d been married. Isn’t divorce difficult?”
“Adeline’s never been married,” Sam said.
Addy hastily explained Emilie’s relationship to her, before gently reminding Jim they had dinner reservations.
“Golly, yes, dinner reservations. Say, I’ve got a great idea, Sam, why don’t you join us? We’re going to this Mexican restaurant down the road.” Jim lightly jabbed Sam’s shoulder. “That’s OK with you, isn’t it Addy, if Sam joins us?”
“No,” she said immediately. “I mean, I wanted to hire a baby-sitter for tonight, because Emilie can be a handful, and Hannah is eighty years old, but she said you’d be home, Sam, if any kind of emergency or anything arose.”
“Hannah survived me and my brothers, she’ll be fine with Emilie,” Sam said. “Besides, Phoebe’s here.”
“I don’t know...” Addy bit her lip. “If one of them fell, and the other had a heart attack or something ...”
“Emilie would go to the neighbors. They’ll be fine.” Sam moved away from the porch railing.
Addy thought fast, then did a double take, as if just noticing what he wore. “But you’re wearing old jeans, Sam. You would feel uncomfortable going with us.”
Jim chuckled. “Addy, we’re in Colorado.”
“Hannah probably has your dinner all prepared.”
“She’s heating up leftovers,” Sam said.
Addy tried again. “I think Emilie plans on Sam reading her a bedtime story.” As far as Addy knew, that particular thought hadn’t occurred to Emilie, but she’d be ecstatic at the idea.
“Grandmother can read her a story tonight and I’ll read Emilie one in the morning,” Sam said.
“Emilie has play group in the morning.”
“I’ll read to the whole play group,” Sam said easily. “I’ll run in and tell Grandmother I’m going and be right with you. This is a great idea, Jim.”
Several hours later Addy stomped up the wooden stairs to the porch and snarled into the dark corner, “Oh, yes, wasn’t the three of us having a cozy little dinner a great idea?”
“I excused myself so he could kiss you good-night.”
Only an idiot would trust the innocence in Sam Dawson’s voice. “I suppose you directed him to park under the streetlight so you could play Peeping Tom.” Not waiting for an answer, she went into the dark house and ran lightly up the staircase.
Emilie slept soundly, her stuffed bear hugged tightly to her. Addy kissed the little girl softly so as not to awaken her, then tiptoed from the bedroom, too restless to climb into bed.
The starry night beckoned. Stepping through the long window to the small second-story porch, Addy moved quietly to an ancient glider. No sounds drifted up from below. Sam must have gone inside. The glider protested loudly as she sat down.
The three-quarter moon, climbing into the sky from the east, cast tree-shaped shadows on the road. Crickets sang in the grass. Addy dissolved into the lumpy glider cushions, her muscles relaxing for the first time this evening. Dating had not been part of her life for the past several years, and current rules and rituals bore no resemblance to those of her college years. She’d never dated a divorced man, a fact which undoubtedly contributed to her feeling on edge all evening. Jim Carlson’s obvious nervousness hadn’t helped.
The only one at the table not nervous had been Sam Dawson. Addy couldn’t even begin to guess at his reasons for joining them. Sam might have fooled Jim Carlson into believing he’d accompanied them for old times’ sake, but a certain mocking gleam in Sam’s eyes when he looked at Addy told her nostalgia had nothing to do with his presence.
A slight wind sighed dejectedly through the evergreens climbing the hillside above the house. Her eyelids sank closed, depression weighing her down. Lorie would have charmed the socks off Jim Carlson and gotten rid of Sam Dawson without mussing a hair on her head. Lorie had come from the womb knowing how to deal with men. What little knowledge of men Addy had learned had disappeared in the last few years. She hadn’t minded curtailing her social life for Emilie’s sake.
She minded being forced to cold-bloodedly snare an unsuspecting husband. There. She’d finally admitted to the feelings roiling nastily in the pit of her stomach. Her youthful dreams of marriage had centered on love, not security.
Addy mentally shook herself. She was twenty-eight years old. The time had come to face reality. Prince Charming wouldn’t ride up to sweep her and Emilie away on his shining white charger. For centuries women had been marrying men for all kinds of reasons other than love. Plenty of successful marriages were based on security. It would be enough for Addy.
And for her husband? She ruthlessly shoved aside any qualms of conscience. She wasn’t asking for charity. Even if she couldn’t love the man she married, she’d be a good wife to him. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but men didn’t look at her and turn to stone, either. Her husband would have a reasonably good cook and, despite Sam Dawson’s opinion to the contrary, an able housekeeper. Addy pleated skirt material between her fingers. He’d have a willing woman in his bed at night. In return for security, she’d give him companionship, loyalty and commitment.
Loud scuffling noises came from below the porch. Addy’s thoughts flew to the bear that had been sighted recently in the neighborhood, but before she could panic, a dark head popped up above the second-story porch floor.
“It’s like riding a bicycle,” Sam said with satisfaction. “One never forgets.” He pulled himself higher, and swung both legs over the railing. “Harry and I used to climb up here to get away from Mike when he was a little guy. He was the world’s worst pest. Hard to believe he’s a medical doctor now.”
Addy wanted to shove him off the second-story porch. “Did you have to scare me half to death?”
“Scare you? Did you think Jim had come back to attack you?”
“Of course not.” In spite of herself she added, “You shouldn’t lean against the railing.”
“OK.” Pushing her to one side, he joined her on the glider, propelling it back and forth with his long legs. “Nice evening.”
Addy chose to misinterpret his meaning. “No, it wasn’t. When you and Jim Carlson weren’t discussing past history, each trying to top the other’s stupid stories of adolescent behavior, and discussing people I’ve never heard of, you encouraged him to tell us all the sordid details of his divorce.” Sam took up far more than his share of the glider. Through her full skirt, Addy felt his warm thigh move against her leg as he pushed the glider.
“You can never have too much information, Adeline. If you’re planning to marry the man...”
“Ms. Johnson to you,” she said automatically, “and I never said I planned to marry him.” A cool breeze sprang up, riffling her skirt and sending chills down her arms. She shivered.
Sam draped an arm around her shoulders. “I suppose you had visions of you and Jim, a cozy little twosome over Margaritas, and sitting in the moonlight with ol’ Jim’s arm around you.”
“We met this evening for the first time.” Addy doubted ol’ Jim’s arm would have the effect on her ol’ Sam’s arm did. Only because Jim Carlson had never kissed her. Sam Dawson was a jerk. A jerk whose lips touching hers gave pleasure. She instantly denied the thought.
Sam tightened his arm; his hand firmly held her shoulders, preventing Addy from rising. “I’ll bet Jim would have kissed you. He would have raised your face like this, and...” Sam lowered his head.
&nb
sp; She didn’t mean to go willingly into his arms. Nor did she intend to part her lips at the slightest urging of his tongue. The glider jangled as Sam shifted, and Addy found herself locked in two strong arms. She was in no danger of falling. There was no reason to wrap her arms around Sam’s neck. His solid chest warmed her breasts, excited them, made them ache for something more. Sam’s fingers, firm and warm, held her face still as he explored the moist reaches of her mouth. He tasted of coffee and after-dinner peppermints. He smelled clean. And masculine. There was nothing soft or weak about the well-rounded bottom lip pressing against Addy’s mouth.
He abandoned her mouth to sear a trail of kisses down her neck and press a light kiss against the pulse rapidly beating at the base of her throat. He nibbled sensuously along the ridge line of her shoulder. Addy’s every breath brought her sensitized shoulder skin in contact with the thin gingham fabric of her dress, damp from his mouth. The unexpectedly erotic sensation jolted her body. Sam scattered kisses on skin bared by her open collar, and slid the top two buttons free. Her breasts grew heavy, and a fluttering need unfurled deep within Addy.
Sam slid a long finger down the partially unbuttoned front of the dress, the end of his finger almost reaching the tip of her breast. Addy breathed shallowly, her whole body poised for the moment Sam would ease the ache swelling up in her breast. He slowly moved his hand deeper into her dress. Could he feel her pounding heart? Blindly she sought his lips with her mouth.
“The problem is ...” Sam’s mouth moved against her lips. “Jim’s hung up on his wife.” He lifted his head. “Do you want to be a substitute for Lois?”
Addy went utterly still. Sam’s hand rested inside the top of her dress, his thumb curled around the hardened tip of her breast. Her legs lay across Sam’s hard thighs, and his arm held her close against his chest. The light from the street lamp failed to illuminate this high, and the pale oval of his face hovered indecipherable above her. She prayed the dark as successfully concealed her face.
Deliberately she removed his hand, catching her breath as he brushed his fingers across her tight nipple in passing. She didn’t make the mistake of thinking he’d touched her unintentionally. “What makes you think I couldn’t make him forget Lois?” Her steady voice did her proud. Swinging her legs off his, she shook off his arm and stood up. “If I wanted to.”