Wife in the Mail

by Marie Ferrarella

  Her mother had died when she was a little younger than Mac. Sydney remembered how angry she’d been at her mother for dying. Almost as angry as Mac. But she’d had her father to help mitigate the pain. And she hadn’t been required to make the kind of adjustments that Mac and Sara had.

  She tried to slip her hand around the slim shoulders, but he shrugged her off, just as he had downstairs. She pretended not to notice. “It’s hard to get used to something different, isn’t it?”

  The small, firm chin rose defiantly. “I don’t want to get used to it. I want to go home.”

  She understood, probably more than she’d anticipated. There was a part of her that wanted to run home now, too. Except that there was no home. Not the one she’d known. The same was true for Mac and Sara. That gave them something in common.

  “Sometimes,” Sydney told them quietly, “things happen and we don’t understand why. But we always have to make the best of them. Otherwise, we just stay unhappy and then nobody wins.”

  Sara was hanging on her every word, trying hard to understand. “Is it a game?”

  Sydney smiled at her. There were a lot of times she’d thought of life as a game. A game with ever-changing rules. “In a way. The winner is the one who’s the happiest with what he or she has.”

  Sara snuck a shy look at her brother. He bossed her around a lot, but she loved him more than anyone. More than Mama even. She didn’t want to be a winner if he couldn’t be one, too.

  “Can there be two winners?”

  She was a honey, this one, Sydney thought. Unable to resist, Sydney sat down next to her again and slid the little girl onto her lap. Flimsy barriers melted as Sara gave in to her natural inclination and cuddled up against her. Sydney lost her heart completely.

  “Oh, there can be lots and lots of winners, sweetheart.” She stroked Sara’s head as her eyes met Mac’s. “The only loser is the one who refuses to try to be happy.”

  She felt pretty confident that, despite the way his lips curled in contempt, she’d given Mac something to think about.

  As good as Sara felt in her arms, she had work to do. Very gently, she eased the little girl from her lap again and rose.

  “Well, I’d better get busy if I want to get this cleaned up before tonight.” That definitely cut her work out for her, she thought.

  Sara wriggled off the bed. “Do you want some help?” The question was tendered with hope.

  Sydney knew how badly an extra pair of small hands could interfere. It went without saying that she could make more headway alone. But she also knew that Sara needed to feel as if she were part of something, instead of just standing on the outside, looking in. Sara and Mac both did.

  And maybe, just maybe, so did she.

  Sydney grinned at her. “I would love some help, Sara. Thank you for asking.” It warmed her to see Sara puff up her chest importantly.

  One down. One to go.

  Turning toward Mac, Sydney was in time to see him pivot on his heel and walk out, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Taking a chance, she appealed to the protector in him.

  “Mac, I need someone big and strong to bring up my other suitcase. Do you think you could help me?”

  Mac never slowed his pace, nor did he answer her directly, although she heard him mumble something to himself under his breath. Probably calling her a variety of names, she guessed.

  This was, she thought, going to take time. But that was all right. She suddenly found herself with plenty of it to spare.

  “Cleaning this room is going to be a big project,” she said, turning back to Sara. “Why don’t we start by picking up everything off the floor and putting it on the bed? That way, we can sort it out and maybe even get a glimpse of the floor.” She looked around at the clutter. “There is a floor under all this, isn’t there?”

  “I think so,” Sara answered honestly. She’d never actually seen it herself.

  One arm tucked around her doll, Sara mimicked Sydney. Methodically, she began to pick up everything in her path, one at a time. Each item necessitated a trip to the bed, where it was deposited. Little by little, a scarred wooden floor that had once been buffed to a golden-honey sheen began to emerge.

  Sydney wondered if there was anything around she could use to restore the shine. She doubted if Shayne would be of any help. Pushing that thought aside, Sydney decided to see if she could somehow untangle the mess in the closet so she could hang up some of the clothing closest to her. Enmeshed in wire hangers that had mysteriously linked themselves together, she was unprepared for the loud thud she heard behind her.

  Not certain what she expected to see, she swung around. Mac was standing in the doorway, her suitcase in front of him. From the looks of it, he’d dragged it up the stairs with both hands.

  “I brought it up,” he said as if he expected her to dispute the matter.

  “So I see.” Crossing to it, she picked up the suitcase and carried it into the room. “Thank you.”

  His shoulders rose and fell indifferently as Mac retreated again, his scowl intact.

  Sydney smiled to herself. That noise she heard was the first chink in the armor opening up. Promising, she mused. Maybe befriending him wasn’t going to take as much work as she’d initially thought.

  “You have a nice brother, Sara.” She purposely raised her voice so the boy belonging to the shadow that fell across the hallway floor could hear.

  “Mac’s okay,” Sara said in the timeless voice of sisters everywhere.

  “Yes, he certainly is.”

  The shadow in the hall remained for quite some time.

  Chapter Five

  The moment Shayne walked into his clinic with its reception area teeming with patients, all thoughts about his chaotic personal life vanished. There was too much else to occupy his mind.

  Shayne had always had the ability to concentrate on his work, his patient, to the complete exclusion of everything else going on around him. That was part of what made him such a good doctor.

  And that was also part, Barbara had told him, of what had driven her away from him. She’d vehemently objected to not being the center of his universe. Coupled with having to live in a “frozen wasteland,” as she’d scathingly referred to the region, she found his ability to successfully tune her out while he was working more than she could possibly put up with.

  It had been the last straw.

  Shayne looked around the clinic. Without anyone to help out, he’d had a difficult time today juggling all his patients. His last assistant had left over a month ago, desperate to move on. The last he’d heard, she was in New Mexico. So far, there’d been no new takers for the job. Hades didn’t have an endless supply of people. With Ben no longer in the picture, Shayne was sure he was about to fall headfirst into hell.

  He thought about what Sydney had said about Ben offering the position to Sydney, sight unseen, and he could almost understand Ben’s logic. Why not? His brother’d offered himself to her-under the same conditions.

  Shayne couldn’t help wondering, as he leaned over and switched off the lamp on his desk, if Ben would have really gone through with marrying Sydney had he remained here. As far as looks went, he could have done a lot worse.

  A lot worse.

  Tired, Shayne rose from his desk. He passed his hand over his forehead and rubbed at his temples. There was a tension headache building. Not from what he’d endured during the day, but in anticipation of what he was about to face at home. Maybe he’d be lucky and they would have all turned in early.

  The last of the patients had left twenty minutes ago. Office hours had long since been over. There were no more traumas to occupy his thoughts, no continuing case to baffle him and lay claim to his concentration.

  There was nothing to face but going home.

  Home to a houseful of people who made him uncomfortable.

  Didn’t seem right, he thought, shrugging into his parka. A man shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in his own home. Crisscrossing a woolen scarf at his ches
t, he tucked the ends in and zipped up his parka. Most of all, a man shouldn’t feel uncomfortable with his own children. Raising the hood on his parka, he stepped outside and locked the door.

  The cold air rubbed raw fingers over his face, stinging it as he got into his four-by-four and started the engine.

  The wheel felt cold, even through his gloves. He’d never thought it would be this way. Whenever he’d envisioned his life, a century ago when he had dreams, he’d always thought there would be a wife, a family, by his side. A family who would give him all the warmth, all the support he had so sorely missed all those years he’d struggled to make a life for himself and his brother.

  He exhaled and mist formed on the windshield. He rubbed it quickly away, shifted out of Park, and made his way down the familiar road.

  Not that Ben and he hadn’t been close. They were. But Ben…well, Ben was Ben. His brother had all the attributes he’d always wished he had. Ben had the outgoing manner that made people believe he cared about them. Shayne knew he cared just as much about his patients, maybe even more so, but for him, it had never been easy to show how he felt. Most people took that to mean that he was aloof, removed from them. After a while, it was just easier to let everyone believe what they wanted to believe. He busied himself in curing his patients, not keeping their demons away at night.

  He supposed, Shayne conceded, it would have been easier to fall into that niche others saw him in and really not care. But he did. In his own fashion, he cared very much.

  Cared, too, that his own children looked at him with either loathing or fear. He hadn’t a clue how to cut through any of that. What the hell was he going to do now? he wondered as his snow-chained tires crunched through the newly fallen snow. Without Ben as a go-between, conversation with Mac and Sara would die altogether. There was no doubt in his mind that Mac somehow blamed him for Ben’s absence, just as the boy seemed to blame him for his mother’s death and for bringing him out here.

  Maybe bringing them out here had been a mistake on his part. It was so hard to know how to do “the right thing.” At the outset, it had seemed right. When he’d heard of Barbara’s death, the first thing he’d thought of was his children. Of how they had to feel—scared, frightened, suddenly deprived of her love. Whatever else she had been with him, Shayne knew that Barbara had been a good mother to their children.

  But now that they were here, in his home, he had absolutely no idea how to be their father.

  High beams seared through the white world around him as he guided the vehicle toward his house. He tried to keep from thinking about how tired he felt. He knew from the accident victims he’d treated how easy it was to fall asleep behind the wheel, hypnotized by the sameness that existed out here. How easy it was to freeze to death.

  The headlights from his vehicle bounced off his plane, standing regally in the field, poised to take off on its next run.

  Almost home.

  As he parked the four-by-four inside the detached garage he and Ben had built, he heard the roof groan under the weight of the snow as he closed the door. He’d have to see about clearing some of that off in the morning. If he remembered to get around to it.

  Shayne looked toward the house. It was clear that the children were unhappy here. Two months and they hadn’t begun to adjust. Perhaps, for their own good, he should let his ex-in-laws take them. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but maybe it was for the best. The suggestion had been on the table when he’d flown to get Mac and Sara. To their credit, Barbara’s parents hadn’t pushed the matter.

  Maybe they should have.

  Standing on the front stoop, Shayne automatically stomped his feet. Bits of snow fell from the soles of his boots. Bracing himself, he opened the door.

  The temperature change was a mild shock to his system. Pushing the door closed behind him, he heard the latch click into place as he opened his parka and looked around. At first, he saw no one in the room. A sigh of relief escaped his lips before he realized it.

  Before he realized that he wasn’t alone.

  He saw her standing by the fireplace, the warm glow from the flames caressing her profile, getting lost in her hair. She’d undone it, he noticed. There was a great deal more of it than he’d first thought. It rained halfway down her back like a shimmering, pale gold shower.

  His breath caught in his throat. The room was warmer than he remembered it.

  When she looked in his direction, the smile that came to her lips in greeting went straight to his heart. He felt as if he’d just caught an electric eel, bare-handed. The tingling sensation raced up and down his body.

  For one shining second, Shayne felt as if he’d stepped into someone else’s life. Perhaps into his own life somewhere in that parallel universe where he was allowed to have the simple things that came so easily, so naturally, to other men. But not to him.

  He shook himself.

  Sydney had begun to think that they would have to go ahead with dinner without him. She’d already postponed it two hours and the children were getting hungry. There was just so long she could try to keep them entertained.

  He looked so stunned, standing in front of the door, that she wondered if something was wrong. “I thought maybe an emergency took you away. It’s been dark for a while.” She’d heard him tell Asia he’d be home at five. Five had long since come and gone.

  “It gets dark early here,” he said matter-of-factly. “And sunrise is after ten.”

  About to remove his parka before he began to perspire, Shayne stopped to sniff the air. There was something tempting and delectable tantalizing his nose. Something quite apart from the light cologne he’d scented on her earlier.

  He took in another whiff, still trying to place the aroma.

  The puzzled expression on his face did a great deal to humanize him, Sydney decided as she stepped away from the fireplace. It almost made him look boyish, giving the hard, chiseled features more appeal.

  She smiled in reply to the unspoken question in his eyes. “That’s dinner.”

  “Not any dinner I’ve had in recent memory.” Unless he and Ben went to the Salty Saloon, dinner usually consisted of whatever can he’d take it upon himself to open and heat. Asia had been put in charge of cooking when he’d brought the children to live here, but cooking was definitely not one of her strong points. Maybe Asia was picking up tips from her daughter-in-law.

  “I took a few liberties with it. Asia looked like she needed help.”

  Because it seemed so natural to her, as she spoke she reached to take his parka from him, intending to hang it in the closet. She’d done this countless times before when her father had come home from work.

  Except this time, she met with instant resistance.

  Shayne held on to the parka. He hadn’t brought her here to be a maid. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I was.” To avoid arguing, she dropped her hands. “Although, in the strictest sense of the word, we all are.”

  He hung his parka on a hook, then turned to face her. What was she talking about? Who was “we”? “Excuse me?”

  “We decided to wait with dinner until you arrived. It seemed only right,” she added when he looked as if he didn’t understand what she was saying.

  Sara had told her that she and Mac usually ate in the kitchen by themselves. Sydney thought that was awful. Family meals were to be shared together whenever possible. So she’d talked them into waiting and entertained them as they waited. She read stories to Sara that Mac pretended to ignore.

  Shayne looked at her suspiciously. Just what was she up to? “We, as in you and the children?”

  She nodded. “Asia left shortly before five. One of her grandchildren came to get her.” It had seemed like an emergency, and considering that the woman’s idea of soup was warmed-over water with hunks of yellowed fat floating in it, Sydney thought they could definitely spare the housekeeper.

  She saw anger crease his brow. Had she done something wrong in letting
the woman go? There hadn’t seemed to be much that she could do to prevent it. “I thought it would be all right since I was here with Mac and Sara.”

  His eyes met hers. She was a stranger, Shayne thought. Where did she get off, letting Asia leave like that? He and Asia had an agreement. She was to remain with the children until he got home, no matter what that time was. He paid her accordingly.

  “Making yourself at home, are you?”

  Sydney wasn’t sure if she was being challenged or not, and if she was, why. She struggled to keep her temper—something that had been badly frayed today—from flaring. “Making myself useful.”

  She was right. There was no reason for him to bite off her head like that. In all likelihood, she was just trying to help. He hung his scarf on top of the parka.

  “Sorry, I’m not at my best at night.”

  A smile curved the corners of her mouth as she cocked her head, studying him. “Then that was your best I saw earlier, at the airport?”

  He laughed shortly. She had him there. “All right, this hasn’t been my best day.”

  Shayne glanced toward the alcove that doubled as a formal dining area on very rare occasions. The table his father had built with his own hands for his mother was set for four.

  He didn’t relish sitting across from accusing eyes. “You could have had dinner without me.”

  “I thought it might be better to have dinner with you.”

  When he looked at her with another unspoken question in his eyes, she was ready for him. “Your children are still adjusting to the change and to their loss. Any stability you can offer them will only help them with the transition.”

  Terrific, Ben bad proposed to someone who fancied herself a dime-store child psychologist. “You obviously don’t know my children.”

  “No,” she agreed, following him to the table. “But I intend to. Sara and I had a long talk while she was helping me clean the bedroom.”

  He stopped again, so abruptly that she walked right into him. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. A second later, he dropped his hands, self-conscious at the unintended contact.