Doorstep daddy

by Cajio, Linda

  "Callie!" Richard admonished, coming toward her. "You better lie down."

  He looked pale and tired. The day had been eventful enough for him without the kiddie-fireworks ending. Jason and Amanda both looked embarrassed yet mulish. The broken-dish scandal was hardly over.

  "He broke the dish," Amanda said.

  "Did not!" Jason yelped. "It dropped when she handed it to me to put in the dishwasher."

  "That's enough!" Richard commanded in a voice that could penetrate iron. "Just clean the pieces up, both of you."

  "But I had nothing to do with it!" Amanda wailed righteously, throwing down her dishcloth rather like a gauntlet.

  "Yes, she did! Yes, she did!" Jason countered, hopping up and down in rhythm to his words.

  Callie looked at Richard in commiseration, then waved her hand, not caring what happened next. She decided that since she was upright, she'd head for the refuge of the upstairs guest room. She needed some peace and quiet.

  She made it as far as the steps themselves when a wave of nausea overcame her. The vertigo was unstoppable, and she sat down on the steps, too weak and tired to go farther until the attack passed. Her stomach gnawed at her, demanding sustenance. She tried to think of the last time she'd eaten or drunk anything. Maybe it was better not to, she thought, fearing it was a false call.

  What a life, she thought. Her job was in jeopardy, Richard's gallantry notwithstanding. She had a test in English literature at the college Monday evening, and she hadn't even started reading Far from the Madding Crowd. Her other classes were shot, too, for the week. And she was ill with the flu in a place that reminded her all too much of the chaotic household in which she'd grown up. Things couldn't have been worse. Richard's front doorbell rang. "This joint is Grand Central," she muttered in disgust. Even with Richard and the kids at her place, they couldn't have made any more noise than here.

  Being just a few feet away and needing something to get her moving upstairs again, she forced herself upright and answered the door.

  Her sister, Gerri, stood on the threshold. The brisk October night air swirled around and through Callie's chenille robe as if it was only a skimpy bikini.

  "Good, I'm glad it's you," Gerri said, thrusting her chin out. Her face held an expression that said she would not be brooked. "You've imposed enough on Richard, and I think you should be ashamed. I think you should leave now before you embarrass yourself and me further in front of my neighbors and friends."

  "Your timing's impeccable, Gerri," Callie said. And putting action to word, she proceeded to throw up all over her sister's two-hundred-dollar Angolini loafers.

  Chapter Nine

  "That was some statement you made to your sister."

  Richard grinned at Callie, who looked much better after three days of rest in bed. His guest bed rather than his bed, maybe, but things happened in slow steps. Right now, she was ready to talk about her "discussion" with Gerri the other night.

  "She'll probably never speak to me again," Callie said, sighing.

  He wondered if that wasn't a good thing. Gerri had had some big brass ones to come to his house and berate his patient, amazing when you considered she was Callie's sister. "I wouldn't worry about it, honey. She was completely wrong. You just told her so in a unique way."

  "Very unique." Callie grinned reluctantly, but the pink hue in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes showed her amusement.

  "I never heard anybody squawk so much like a chicken before," Richard mused.

  "Now that was unique," Callie admitted, giving in to a fit of giggles. "I was bad."

  "She owes you an apology," Richard said.

  "I'll never get it. Gerri doesn't give apologies."

  "She should/'

  Callie smiled at him from across the living-room sofa. The Sunday paper was spread all around her. Today was her first day out of bed. She was freshly scrubbed from her shower, and she wore an old pair of his sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She looked great in his clothes, in his house.

  "How do you feel?" she asked.

  "Good." He meant it. His exhaustion had eased as the weekend progressed. Amanda had helped him out with Mark. So had Callie's nephew. Joey could have been Callie's son, he mirrored her in attitude and caring. A good boy, he decided, having begun to relax a little where Amanda was concerned. Barely, but that was another story. "I feel ready to fly to Java again."

  "Please." She waved a hand. "I can't afford more time off from work or school."

  Richard took her hand. "You have been terrific."

  "No. You have," Callie said, squeezing his fingers. "You took in a sick woman you barely knew."

  Nothing had been more satisfying than caring for Callie during her illness. As a man, he hadn't given such things much consideration in the past. Now he found watching over a person you cared about gratified the heart.

  He kissed her palm. "You took in a family you barely knew."

  Emotions swirled in her gaze. Richard couldn't resist. He leaned forward and kissed her. The newspaper crinkled under his hip but he didn't care. Her lips were warm, soft and willing. Her tongue mated leisurely with

  his -

  "I feel sick."

  They broke apart to see Jason standing in the living room doorway, a dismal expression on his face.

  Callie pushed the paper aside and got up, saying to Richard, "You get the sickie bucket. FU get him to bed."

  "Right." The inevitable had happened. The kids were coming down with the flu. "This thing is like a freight train going through here."

  "It's life. Unglamorous, unromantic and unrewarding.

  "I don't know. It has its moments." Callie blushed. Richard grinned at her.

  Callie felt Jason's forehead. "He doesn't feel warm."

  Richard's grin turned to a frown. "That's odd. We were burning up right from the beginning."

  Callie already had the boy in bed and a thermometer in his mouth when Richard bounded up the stairs into the boy's room. He removed the thermometer.

  "Hey! It's not done yet," she protested.

  "My nephew is." Richard glared at the boy. "Jason, where is the rest of your Halloween candy? You had a half a bowl of it yesterday."

  Jay glanced away. "I dunno."

  "I do. It's in your belly right now, giving you a stomachache. No wonder you feel sick."

  Jason firmed his lips, refusing to answer. No kid ratted on himself if he could help it, and Jason was clearly subscribing to that theory.

  "Jay, you are only supposed to eat one piece of candy a day," Richard snapped, angry with the boy for his disobedience. "What did you think? That you could take advantage of me and Callie being ill and no one would notice? How fair is that?"

  "Not very," Jason admitted.

  "You're supposed to eat fruit for snacks - "

  "I hate fruit."

  "You'll learn to like it," Richard told him sternly, "Because that's all the snacks you're getting for the next two months. You're flagged, boy."

  He set the bucket down by the bed and ushered Callie from the room.

  Outside, he said, "Can you believe that kid? We've got the flu and he goes out and gives himself a candy bellyache."

  Callie chuckled. "He's a pistol. A hungry pistol, obviously, whose eyes and stomach aren't on the same wavelength."

  Richard shook his head. "Great. I've got a kid with something that's not even on our expected sick list. He's going to have candy belly, and then he's going to have the real thing. It's only a half hour after he had lunch. How could he even be hungry?"

  "He's a kid," Callie said as they went downstairs. "All he had to see was that candy, and his brain went into chocolate shock. My little brother, Jamie, had the same problem at Jay's age. They see it. They must eat it. They must be sick afterward."

  "He took advantage of our being in the living room, and Amanda and Joey's taking Mark for a walk," Richard said. "That's how he got into the bowl without being stopped."

  "I'd watch that," she said.

  "Da
mn straight I'll watch Jay's candy intake."

  "I meant Joey and Amanda taking Mark for a walk."

  They resumed their seats on the sofa. Jason, by mutual unspoken agreement, would be fending for himself until his chocolate attack eased. You play, you pay, Richard thought unsympathetically.

  "What do you mean about taking Mark for walks?" he asked, puzzled by her comment.

  "Just that you should always know where they're walking Mark to," she said. "Tommy used to take Jamie out all the time. I thought it was big-brother love. It was, in a way. Tommy was more interested in fooling around with Mindy Schuller behind the old gas station on the corner while Jamie played in the weeds. Jamie got poison ivy before Tommy could get to home plate with Mindy."

  Richard cursed. "This is never ending, isn't it?"

  "It's called the teenage years. I caught hell from my mom because I didn't watch over Tommy better. The bum was fifteen. He should have known better. He did know better."

  "And they let him be a doctor?" Richard asked, astonished.

  "Where do you think my brother got his inspiration from?'' But Callie grinned, clearly forgiving Tommy for his checkered past.

  "So you're telling me Joey's like Tommy," Richard said, getting the point. Unfortunately the point scared the hell out of him, just as he was relaxing with the boy. Joey and Amanda were only thirteen. Too young, both of them. Surely. He wondered if chastity belts came in Amanda's size.

  "I'm not telling you Joey's like Tommy. My nephew is a sweet boy. I'm just saying it doesn't hurt to keep your eyes open and your mind objective. It's good practice for later."

  "Oh."

  She chuckled as he finally got the actual point. It was great to have her back to normal and giving him guidance. Her being ill had frightened him nearly as much as the potential Amanda had for getting in trouble. He reached across the space separating them and caressed her hair. The blond strands pulled back tightly and then falling loose in a ponytail fascinated him.

  Callie turned to look at him, her eyes wide and wary as a doe's. But she didn't pull away from his touch.

  "Did you kiss anyone behind the gas station?" he asked, not sure if he was jealous or curious. Jealous won. This was Callie, after all.

  "No."

  "Why not? Were you such a good girl?" "No one ever asked me."

  "I would have asked you," he said softly. "I would have done more than kiss you."

  She said nothing. He knew he would kiss her now. So did she. He leaned toward her and she met him halfway in a blistering kiss. Their mouths opened so their tongues could meet -

  The front door opened.

  They pulled apart. Richard cursed under his breath as Mark ran into the room. He didn't begrudge his nephew's presence. He just begrudged the interruption.

  Mark's solid little body was bundled in a hat and jacket, but he brought the brisk air in with him as he flung himself at Richard and Callie.

  "Bird fly!" Mark said happily. "Bird fly to Grandma's!"

  "Better them than me," Richard said, after figuring out that Mark meant the geese flying south, probably to Florida. Amanda and Joey must have explained migration to the child.

  "You look better, Aunt Callie," Joey said.

  "I feel a lot better," Callie replied. "How's your mother? Is it safe to get within a hundred yards of her? Or will she take me out?"

  Joey looked heavenward. "I'd stay here for a while longer, Aunt Callie."

  "Thanks for the warning."

  Richard stared at his niece, looking for signs that Amanda had joined the gas-station club. Her cheeks were rosy, but that could have been from the cold November day. Her eyes were a limpid brown, but then, they were always that way. Her lips did not look freshly kissed. Now that was good, he thought, relieved.

  Joey looked charmingly gawky, not knowingly mature. Not trying to play doctor because he wanted to grow up to be one.

  Then Richard wondered if one could tell. The idea of a chastity belt looked better and better. For Pete's sake, he thought, disgusted with himself. He was worrying for nothing. He had to be. Amanda and Joey were only kids. At thirteen he hadn't had enough nerve to hold a girl's hand in private, let alone in public. Joey shouldn't be any different - except for the evidence of Fast Uncle Tommy.

  "Can I stick my head in the sand on this one?" he asked seriously.

  Callie looked amused as she shook her head. 'Nope. You've got to hang in there with it."

  She could have been talking about herself, for she certainly tried hard to stick her head in the sand about their relationship. Being sick had its advantages; they hadn't been able to ignore each other and indulge hurt feelings. Instead, they'd been with each other. Not in a sexual way, but it helped. And maybe it was better.

  Richard's brain took a right turn and he wondered if he should encourage her to hang in there with him. Maybe if she could see that a relationship between them was no threat to her needs, she would be open to him.

  He spotted an article of interest in the newspaper section she currently held. In fact, the piece seemed to leap off the page to get his attention.

  Richard pointed to the article. "See that? There, on the society page? That's Marcia Ortega. She's a local, a bank vice president who just got appointed the Philadelphia consul for Argentina."

  "I take it you know her?" Callie asked, looking at the picture of the older woman.

  "Sure. We all know one another. She's at the docks more than the airport. That's how Argentina ships most of their fruit to the States. She was vice consul for Chile for three years before the new hitch."

  "How'd she get the Argentine post if she's from Chile?"

  Richard grinned. "She's not from Chile. She's from Chester, Pennsylvania. Her mother's Chilean and her dad's Argentinean. Family connections are as good as telephone-system donations. There's a ball being held in her honor next week. Would you like to go with me?"

  "Me?" Callie's eyes widened at the invitation.

  Richard laughed. He hadn't planned on going, but the spur-of-the-moment idea had taken fruit. He pardoned himself for the pun. But he liked seeing the usually unruffled Callie look surprised as hell. He felt in control. "Yes, you. It's formal, very fancy, but lots of fun. We do it up right, trust me. And you and I deserve it. After the drudge of the flu, we need a break. This'11 be a great one."

  "Who'll watch the kids?" she asked. "Or will we take them?"

  "Hell, no!" He shuddered at the thought of Jason and Mark in formal surroundings. Slyly he said, "I'll ask your sister Gerri to baby-sit."

  Callie burst into laughter. "Fd love to see that."

  "Then say yes and watch me."

  "But I don't have anything formal to wear." She paused. "Well, I've got a couple of awful bridesmaid dresses. I refuse to wear them."

  She was obviously very tempted to accept. That was good. Richard replied with logic, "Borrow a dress. Or rent one. No one will know but me, and I'm renting my tux. Since that's settled, you're going."

  "Is that a statement or a question?" she asked, eyeing him narrowly.

  "A question if you want. A statement if you need the push. I am a diplomat, after all."

  She snorted. "You're the fruit guy, Richard. I know, because I was the fruit girl for you."

  "Sounds kinky, so it works for me. We'll go and be fruity together." He held out his hand. "Pass over the sports section. I want to see the individual matchups for the Eagles-Cowboys game today."

  "Philadelphia fan?"

  "Dallas."

  She passed the section he requested, whacking him over the head with it as she did. "I'm an Eagles fan, you crumb."

  "Love those signs of affection," he murmured.

  "I've forgiven you," Callie said to her sister, breezing into Gerri's house on her way home from class Tuesday night. "Now, do you have a formal I can borrow?" "Wh-what?" Gerri squawked.

  Callie smiled sweetly at her sister. "I said I forgive you."

  "You were sick all over my shoes!" Gerri yelped. "Then you c
an forgive me, and we're even," Callie told her. She'd said yes to the ball, and now Cinderella needed a dress. Gerri had a number of dresses for formal occasions. Callie would humble herself only so far to get one - but she'd humble herself enough. Better to let each other's rude behavior pass.

  "My shoes were ruined!" Gerri said. Clearly letting things pass was a foreign concept to Gerri. "And you've been living over there, haven't you? My neighbors have noticed. Callie, how could you?"

  "I was baby-sitting while he took a soccer player home to Indonesia," Callie replied, now not inclined to allow anything to pass. "Then he got sick, and I got sick. We're friends" She skipped their lapse into intimacy and focused on where the relationship needed to be. "It's no big deal - although if you thought it was, you should have taken me into your house while I was sick. I don't believe I heard any offer from you to do so, but maybe I was too out of it and missed it"

  Gerri's expression grew less outraged and more furtive. "I was busy with the children, always running with their activities. It's never ending, Callie, but you wouldn't know that. You should have been at Mom's or something. Not Richard Holiday's."

  "You know Mom has a heart condition, and she can't afford to get ill. She certainly hasn't the strength to care for someone."

  Gerri would never change, Callie thought. Her sister would always be critical of others while being the "not me" girl about the same thing.

  "What do you need a formal for?" Gerri asked, turning the conversation elsewhere now that she was on the defensive.

  Callie smiled, knowing this would be good. "Richard's asked me to a diplomats' ball."

  "What!" Gerri's eyes bulged with astonishment. Then her face hardened. "You didn't wheedle the invitation out of him while you were there, did you?"

  Callie froze for one long moment at the insult. Then she moved close to Gerri, practically leaning into her, forcing Gerri to step back in intimidation. Callie said, "It's lucky you're my sister, otherwise you'd be wishing you'd never said that. Now stop being a self-centered idiot and let me borrow a dress."

  "I didn't mean to insult you," Gerri said, recovering a Utile dignity. "It's just that Richard Holiday is an important man. I'm sure he has a lot of beautiful women throwing themselves at him. I don't want to see you hurt. I just didn't word my concerns right."