"There's Daddy now!"
Headphones off, John proceeded to sum up the game with a few perceptive comments. At the end he looked directly into the camera with a distinctly wicked smile.
"If I may be allowed to indulge myself for a moment, I'd like to say hi to Marian and Emma and the kids."
Struck dumb, Marian stared at the television. As the other commentator tossed a joking remark back at John, who looked unperturbed, Marian's cheeks blossomed with heat. He'd actually done it!
Emma got her voice back first. "Hey, that was cool!"
Marian started to laugh. She couldn't help it. "Your dad is crazy.
"I know." His daughter looked smug. "But he's neat, isn't he?"
Still laughing, Marian gave Emma a hug. "Yeah, he's okay."
*****
On Monday morning, the first thing she said to him was, "You actually did it!"
Hands in his pockets, he stood on the front porch, his grin disarmingly mischievous. "I couldn't resist. You sounded so horrified."
Marian just shook her head and stepped aside to let him in. "I think Emma's all ready to go. The kids are watching 'Sesame Street' while I clean up the kitchen."
"You want some help?"
"I only require that if you don't pay your bill."
There it was again, that slow, warm smile that crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes and turned Marian's insides to jelly. "In that case," he said provocatively, "maybe I'll pretend that I forgot my checkbook."
Marian decided not to react to that. How could she? What would he think if he knew how bittersweet his presence in her kitchen had been?
Edging away, she called, "Emma! Your father's here!"
"Coward," he said softly, but a whirlwind erupted out of the living room, distracting him.
"Daddy!"
"Hey, pumpkin!" He swung his small daughter high into the air before enveloping her in a hug. "I missed you."
Marian knew she'd been forgotten, and a lump formed in her throat. Was she jealous? Had her feelings grown so out of control? No, it was more complicated than that. She was seeing what she'd once imagined Mark would be like with his children. She was seeing a love that excluded her, because she wasn't a part of it. She was only a caretaker for Emma. For John, she was a reasonably attractive woman he enjoyed bantering with. Neither John nor Emma could guess how the tenderness they felt for each other increased the deep ache of loneliness in Marian's heart. Why it did, she didn't totally understand herself.
When father and daughter turned toward her, she smiled casually. "I'll see you next Friday, Emma?"
John's eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment directly. "Get your stuff, hon."
As Emma danced away, John crossed his arms and leaned lazily against the wall. "Have you thought any more about Snowball and the goat?"
Marian shook her head. "I'm worrying more about myself and the kids right now. I have to find a rental for us first."
"If you need any help..."
"Thank you," she said, not letting him finish. "But I'll find something."
His gray eyes searched hers. "I mean it, you know."
"And I'm grateful," Marian said formally.
"Don't be stubborn."
"My husband used to say that stubborn was my middle name." She smiled at the little girl, who had reappeared clutching her possessions. "Did you get your Barbie stuff?"
"Yes, except I couldn't find my Jewel Secrets necklace. But I'll find it next weekend."
John handed Marian a check. "See you Friday?"
"Friday," she confirmed.
He paused on the doorstep. "By the way, what'd you think of the game?"
Taken by surprise, she said, "It was exciting. Lots more exciting than baseball."
Laughter glinted in his eyes. "Trying to overwhelm me with faint praise?"
Nothing she felt for him was faint, except perhaps her pulse. "No," she said. "Really, I enjoyed it."
"Marian screamed at the TV set," Emma said from just behind him.
He raised one eybrow and grinned, clearly enjoying Marian's blush. "Did she really?" he murmured. "Good. That brings me to something I wanted to ask you."
Emma tugged on his arm. "What's that, Daddy?"
"You go get in the car, hon. I'll be there in a second."
Marian felt as though she were teetering on the edge of a cliff, and he was going to ask her to jump. With him. No, worse yet, he had something utterly mundane to ask her. He'd want her to take Emma shopping for school clothes. Do her laundry over the weekend. Lower her rates.
She had never been so grateful to hear the telephone ring. "Excuse me, I'd better go answer that."
He only smiled. "I'll wait."
Marian fled in total disarray. Inside, she mumbled, "Get a grip on yourself," then reached for the telephone.
By the end of the brief conversation, she had forgotten that John wanted to ask her something, forgotten her confusion and apprehension and anticipation.
When she appeared on the front porch, he frowned and stepped quickly forward, reaching for her elbow.
"What's wrong?"
Marian swallowed hard. "That was my landlord," she said starkly. "He says I have to be out of here by the end of the month. That's less than..." Her voice quavered. "Less than three weeks away."
CHAPTER 4
John swore. "That's crazy. There must be some legal recourse. They can't possibly expect you to be out that fast."
"I can't afford legal recourse."
"My lawyer would be happy to write a letter for you. A threat might be all it would take."
"No." She shook her head hard when he started to speak again. "Please. I can't accept financial help."
"Stubborn."
"I told you it's my middle name." Despite her attempt at humor, he saw how pale she was and how her mouth trembled until she compressed her lips.
With his hand on her elbow, John turned her toward the ramshackle porch swing that hung by rusting chains. "Sit. Let's think about this."
"I'm sorry. It's not your problem. I..."
"Sure it is. What'll I do with Emma if you go out of business?"
"I'll find something," Marian said. "I'm sure I can. You don't need to worry."
"Damn it!" Her dark eyes widened and John realized that he had raised his voice. He let out an impatient breath and moderated his tone. "I'm worried about you. Is that okay?"
When he pushed, she sank onto the swing, although she said automatically, "I'll manage. I've always..."
"I'm sure you have." The porch swing creaked under his weight when he joined her. He laid an arm across her stiff shoulders, ignoring the jolt of attraction he felt. This wasn't the time for it. "That doesn't mean friends can't help you out," he said.
With wide, vulnerable eyes she searched his face, then abruptly turned her head away. She said in a muffled voice, "That's...that's very kind of you."
He wanted to swear again. If only they'd had dinner together a couple of times, if only he had felt her mouth soften for his... If only she had talked to him. Maybe then she would have given him some rights. As it was, she was probably wondering who he thought he was. They'd met three, maybe four, times. He was nothing to her. She might be wishing he'd leave her alone.
He remembered that odd conversation in her kitchen. Tell me, do all men imagine themselves as a prince in disguise, sweeping a woman away? But she was no sleeping beauty, waiting to be saved. She wanted to save herself. Who was he to deny her?
The screen door squeaked and a small voice intruded. "Mommy? Lizzie's mean. She made a mean face."
Marian leaned forward and held out her arms. "Come here, Jesse Bear."
John left his arm across the swing. When Marian leaned back again, her son on her lap, he felt the warmth of contact. He didn't think she even noticed. She had closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against Jesse's head.
"Daddy!" His turn. Emma had rolled down the car window and hung inquisitively out. "Daddy, what are you doing?"
He wanted to sweep her into his arms and cuddle her like she was cuddling Jesse. Instead, he didn't move. "Marian, listen to me for a minute. There's one thing I can do for you. Let me take Snowball and the goat. If you find a solution later that'll make you happier, fine. But for now, you can get one load off your mind and make Emma happy at the same time."
"I..." Her teeth closed on her lower lip, and he saw her chest rise and fall on a long breath. "Okay. At least for now. Thank you, John. It will simplify my life."
He made himself stand. "I'll pick 'em up when the time gets closer. If there's anything else I can do..."
This time her mouth curved into a genuine smile, so gentle he felt as if she'd kicked him. The humor in her voice was real, too. "You know, I may not be the only one who's a little stubborn."
"Most people would tell you that what I am is competitive. Jocks don't like to lose, you know."
"No." Her smile became shaky. "But this isn't a game."
John couldn't help himself. He reached out and touched her, just the brush of fingertips against her cheek. "I never thought it was," he said softly. Back at his side, his fingers curled into a fist. He had to clear his throat. "See ya," he said, and headed off the porch.
He glanced back once, as he opened his car door. Framed between the posts that supported the porch, she still sat there, head bowed over her young son. She looked...virginal. Pure. No, beautiful. Madonna and child. Dark hair slipping out of its knot, the curve of her slender neck, her pale skin... Something in the sight of her tightened his heart, until he had to clench his teeth against the pain. For once, he let Emma's high voice wash over him unheard as he drove away.
*****
Nothing. It was getting dark and she'd looked at eight places. Jesse and Anna in the backseat were whiny and hungry. Marian wanted to lean her head against the steering wheel and cry. Instead, she smiled over her shoulder, hoping her children were too young to see the tears she had blinked back, and said, "You know what? I think maybe tonight we'll go to MacDonald's. How's that grab you?"
The effect was magical, worth the twelve dollars she couldn't afford. "Can I have nug-nuggles?" Anna asked.
"Me, too!" Jesse said.
"Chicken Nuggets, coming right up," Marian promised.
The MacDonald's where they stopped had children's movies playing on a big screen, which mesmerized Jesse and Anna. Marian didn't have to do any more than squeeze catsup out for the fries and supply napkins and straws. She ate slowly, not even tasting her hamburger. Despair made it hard to swallow, clutching at her throat and stomach.
What if she couldn't find a decent house? What if she had to rent one of the tiny dumps they'd looked at, just to have someplace to go? She would lose her day-care business, and then what? She couldn't afford to work any more than she could afford an adequate house! The cost of putting two young children in daycare would eat up too much of the measly amount she could earn with the few skills she had.
She had only finished two years of college, as an English major, of all useless things. She had always intended to go back to school, but it was a dream that kept getting pushed aside. First she had worked while Mark finished his degree; then his job had brought them too far from Seattle to reasonably commute. Then pregnancy, of course, and the shock of finding that she was to have twins. And finally Mark's abrupt departure…
Suddenly, it was more than she could deal with. There she sat on the smooth plastic seat, surrounded by normal families on a normal outing. The movie voices were squeaky and meaningless. Her hamburger might as well have been Styrofoam. A wave of fear and loneliness hit Marian, so powerful she felt bruised. Most of the time she blocked thoughts of the future from her mind, lived like an alcoholic must, one day at a time. What hope did she have? How could she go to school and work and be a parent all at the same time? It was impossible. Her dreams were impossible.
And now she didn't even have a place to live.
Marian put down the last quarter of her hamburger. What little appetite she'd had was gone.
"You guys done?" she asked. "It's time to go."
"Can we have ice cream?" Jesse pleaded.
"Please," Anna said disarmingly.
Marian wanted to cry. Instead, she smiled. "Okay. On the way home."
Home. The small, ramshackle cottage with its worn wood floors and sagging front porch, the bright wallpapers and old paned windows. All to go under the blade of a bulldozer. In three more weeks it would be gone forever.
She didn't have a home anymore.
*****
John was running late when he dropped Emma off that Friday. He handed her bag to Marian and kissed his daughter, who bounced happily off to play with Crystal, a four-year-old who was one of Marian's regulars. Her mother wouldn't be picking her up for another hour.
"See you Monday," Marian said.
He held out a hand to block the door, though she hadn't started to close it. "Any luck?"
His gray eyes were too perceptive. "Not yet," she admitted. "There are always some new rentals listed in the Sunday paper, though. If you don't mind my dragging Emma along again, I'll probably check a few out."
"Of course I don't mind," he said tersely. "I want you to know that if you get desperate, I'd lend a hand."
"Please!" Marian rolled her eyes in a display of humor she didn't feel. "I don't even want to think about getting desperate! Give me a couple of weeks, okay?" More softly she added, "But...thank you."
Marian had no doubt that he could see how thin was her veneer of self-confidence, though he said only, "All right. I'll call sometime this weekend," flipped his hand in a casual wave, and strode to his car. For just a second, she let herself luxuriate in watching him, those long, lean legs and broad shoulders, the effortless, powerful grace of his every move. Before he reached the car and might turn back for one last glance, she quietly closed the door and leaned her forehead against it.
Damn. Why did John McRae make her feel so...so hungry? So safe?
Those feelings were deceptive. They had to be. He hadn't offered her anything but casual sympathy and camaraderie. He was an easy man to know and like, that was all. He had revealed nothing of what lay beneath the surface. He'd never said any more about his wife or her death, nor asked about the twin's father. John might look at her sometimes with terrifying intimacy, but whatever attraction he felt was strictly physical. She still scarcely knew him.
They talked briefly when he called on Sunday night, but with none of the closeness she had sometimes felt. He sounded preoccupied and tired, and Marian could hear her own wariness in her voice.
The most personal the conversation got was when he asked, "Find anything?"
"I'm afraid not," she said ruefully, hiding her own, bone-deep weariness.
"Marian..." Then he stopped. In the pause that followed she could hear his breathing and knew he was still there. "I've got to go," he said then, almost abruptly. "See you in the morning."
But he said little when he collected Emma after breakfast. He was friendly but distant. He didn't once look at Marian with that glint in his eyes or lower his voice to that husky, intimate level. He didn't once mention running away for the weekend. He didn't even linger to chat.
Marian tried very hard to convince herself that what she felt was relief. She had never been very good at self-deception, however. Impatient with herself, she managed a smile for the kids.
"Okay, story time!" She collected a couple of her favorite picture books and plopped down on the living-room floor, her back against the couch. Children clambered on her lap while others leaned trustingly against her. The group included most of her regulars. It was strange how conscious she was of Emma's absence. "Which book first?" she asked.
"Fritz and the Beautiful Horses," Lizzie said promptly.
"Fritz," Jesse agreed.
"Okay, Fritz it is."
As Marian opened th
e book, Lizzie wriggled in place and confided, "I like Fritz, 'cuz he kinda looks like Snowball. And Snowball is gentle and kind, too."
Marian ruffled the little girl's blond bangs. "Yes, he is. But I'm not sure he's always willing to work, like Fritz."
They all giggled. "Snowball doesn't have to work!" one of the little boys said. "Giving us rides isn't workl"
"No?" Marian teased. "Then what is it?"
"It's fun!" they all said in chorus.
"Oh, I see. Has anybody told Snowball that?"
Lizzie looked at her as if she were stupid. "Snowball can't understand human talk. You know that!"
"I'd forgotten for a minute," Marian said with a straight face. Then she laughed and hugged as many kids as she could get her arms around. Tired as she sometimes got, what she did wasn't really work, either. The children were too much fun. The thought of losing the joy as well as the money scared her. "Okay, here we go,' she said. " 'Once there was a walled city known for its beautiful horses...' "
*****
When the doorbell rang Wednesday evening, Marian glanced automatically at the clock. Seven-thirty. Who on earth could it be? She dried her hands on the dish towel and raised her voice.
"For heaven's sake, Rhodo! Aja! Shush!" Hopeless, of course. The hysterical yaps continued above the big shepherd's deeper, booming bark.
Ever shy, Jesse and Anna peered around the corner from the living room when their mother went to answer the front door.
At the unexpected sight of John McRae standing on her doorstep, his big hand cradling the back of his daughter's head, Marian's heart took an uncomfortable lurch. Tonight he had on jeans and a worn leather jacket that made his shoulders look even broader. His expression was imperturbable, while beside him Emma was dancing on her toes like a child who could hardly wait to open presents at her birthday party.
"Well, hi," Marian said, trying to speak above the barking. "Aja, Rhodo...!" She gestured helplessly. "Come on in. Then they'll shut up."
Emma stooped to hug Rhoda's big black head and let herself be kissed on the nose by the smaller dog. Marian closed the door behind father and daughter and followed them into the living room. When John glanced around, Marian immediately felt self- conscious again, even though by this time she was pretty sure he wouldn't care if there were Cheerios under the couch or fun fruits squished between the cushions. She still felt exposed, as though on some deep level the house was her.
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