Family Be Mine

by Tracy Kelleher

  From downstairs, Ben’s footsteps moved away from the stairs. “I’ve got to clean up the living room before this baby shower, and I don’t want to find out that he’s gotten into something up there,” he called up.

  A moment later Hunt descended with Fred on the leash. He found Ben in the study. “I hope you weren’t too attached to that particular roll of toilet paper. I found another one in the vanity and hid the shredded bits in there instead.”

  Ben finished straightening up the piles of library books and magazines. “Good. A move like that will make Katarina think that Matt did it,” he said, referring to his son.

  To give Ben due credit, Matt, besides toting the usual baggage of a sixteen-year-old, had only recently come into his life after the death of his mother. Neither Ben nor Matt had known about each other before the reading of the will, and while both were determined to make the relationship work, they were still feeling their way. Katarina helped with smoothing out the relationship, providing mediation and the love, and a secret weapon—her grandmother.

  “I don’t think the kid has anything to worry about,” Hunt replied to Ben. “Hey, the kid can take care of himself. After all, he’d have Lena defending him like a mother hen no matter what.”

  Ben hunted around for a place to put a pile of old newspapers and settled for dumping it in the log carrier by the fireplace. “That oughta do it. Amada is away for the week visiting her cousin in Mexico, and I was put in charge of tidying up. You don’t know how to vacuum, do you?”

  “How hard can it be? If I can graduate from Grantham University, I should be able to work a simple machine. Here, hold the dog, and point the way.”

  “It’s in the hall closet.” Ben took Fred’s leash. The dog eyed him cautiously, then pulled away with all his might in the direction of Hunt. “I don’t think Fred has quite warmed up to me.”

  Hunt came back dragging the canister vacuum behind him. “Don’t take it personally. He’s afraid of men. Try looking smaller.” Hunt bent down and peered around the back of the vacuum. “There must be a cord hiding somewhere.”

  Ben hunched his shoulders, but at six foot three it was a little hard to look small. Then he tried sitting on the arm of the couch. Fred just pulled harder. “I don’t think this is working.” He nodded toward Hunt. “It’s down on the left side.”

  “Check.” Hunt pulled out a length of cord and plugged it in.

  “So if he’s afraid of men, why is he so fond of you? Oh, I forgot, it’s your naturally unthreatening charm.”

  “What’s that?” The sound of the vacuum cleaner filled the small space.

  “I was just commenting on your wimpiness,” Ben shouted.

  “You can’t rile me,” Hunt yelled back. “I’m perfectly secure in my manhood. Witness my confident manner with the vacuum cleaner.” He pushed it toward Ben and caught the ragged edge of an ancient Oriental rug, causing the machine to grab. The noise changed to a desperate high-pitched gurgle, like blackbirds swarming in an air-conditioning vent.

  Fred jumped back, cowering behind Ben’s leg.

  Hunt tried pulling the vacuum away, but that only made the machine grip harder.

  “Turn the damn thing off,” Ben shouted.

  “What?”

  Ben stood up and stepped on the power button. “I said,” he still shouted before realizing it wasn’t necessary. “Sorry,” he lowered his voice.

  Fred inched forward and bravely inspected the vacuum. There was a faint burning smell.

  Hunt crouched down and worked the rug free from the bottom of the vacuum.

  Fred nudged his thigh.

  “It’s okay, boy.” He fondled the dog’s ear.

  The puppy lifted a hind leg and scratched at his belly. The three paws remaining on the wood floor immediately splayed out from under him. His belly plopped on the floor. He looked up at Hunt and over to Ben, seemingly proud, as if that was what he meant to do all along.

  Hunt laughed. Fred was good for making him laugh. Not much else did these days. Then he stood and looked forlornly at the vacuum. “Well, if I proved one thing, it’s that even though my virility may be intact, I’m nowhere near as competent as the average woman.”

  As soon as he’d said the words, Hunt felt the stirrings in his libido. Until he caught sight of his water aerobics partner he wasn’t all that convinced that his loss of sexual desire was a temporary side effect of his chemo as his oncologist had assured him. But, aah, the miracle of a teeny-tiny electric-orange bikini, he thought with a smile.

  “Now that we’ve got that straight, I declare the job done,” Ben announced. He passed the dog’s leash to Hunt and unplugged the vacuum. “So, tell me, how did that aerobics class go?”

  Hunt blinked. Had his friend been reading his mind?

  “I know I kind of backed you into it, and for once, I was actually feeling a bit guilty.” Ben searched around the end of the vacuum, trying to figure out how to push the cord back in its hole. Brute force didn’t appear to be the answer. “Did it work out okay?”

  “Well, it was wet and completely embarrassing, so I hope that makes you feel even more guilty.”

  “So who did they match you up with then?” Ben glanced up. “There must be some way to push the cord back in, don’t you think?”

  “You knew about the whole partner bit?”

  “I suppose I might as well come clean. I wasn’t sure you’d go through with it if you knew it required close personal contact with a stranger. So who was it? Some old man recovering from angioplasty?”

  “No, actually it was a woman, about thirty maybe.”

  Ben dropped the cord, raised his hands and stood up.

  “I’m done.” He faced Hunt. “So what was she recovering from?”

  Hunt frowned. “I’d say recovery is not quite the right word.”

  Fred tiptoed tentatively toward the vacuum. He put his nose down by the exhaust and sniffed.

  Ben frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s pregnant, bro.”

  “Pregnant? So where’s the father?”

  Fred slumped down on his belly and began gnawing on a corner of the plastic casing.

  “Apparently not in the picture.” Hunt stared off, not focusing on anything in particular. “What is it about fathers and their children, anyway?”

  Ben growled.

  Hunt quickly explained. “No, man. You didn’t even know that Matt existed until last year. I was just commenting on the sorry state of affairs in general. I mean, you never even knew your father. Mine barely acknowledged my existence. My most vivid memory of him is not his face, but this big black Cadillac driving away. When he died while I was still young, I realized I didn’t miss my father, but that shiny limousine was another matter.”

  “If it will make you feel any better, I’ll buy you a set of whitewalls on eBay,” Ben said.

  Hunt smiled. “Spoken like a true friend and, I must admit, a good father.”

  “Tell that to Matt.”

  “No, Matt knows you’ll always be there for him,” Hunt said. The way you were always there for me through cancer, Hunt could have said, but being a guy, he didn’t. When it came down to it, he really wasn’t New Agey after all, just his stiff-upper-lip mother’s son.

  “So what’s with this woman’s husband then? How come he’s not there doing squat thrusts or jumping jacks or whatever it is you do in the shallow end?”

  “Some of us have already chosen to do underwater jogging in the deep end with floaties.”

  “Floaties?”

  “A technical term. I’ll enlighten you later,” Hunt said.

  “Anyway, as to the lady in question, my partner—” the term sounded strange but surprisingly not unwelcome “—from what she said, I’m not sure if there was ever one on the scene.”

  Ben whistled. “An unwed mother, huh?”

  “Single parent is the politically correct term these days,” Hunt corrected.

  Fred turned his head and mouthed furiously on a button
along the bottom edge by the left rear wheel.

  “There didn’t have to be a guy, you know. It could have been a sperm bank donor,” Ben suggested hypothetically.

  “Who knows? She made it pretty clear she wasn’t into men,” Hunt replied.

  “She’s gay?” Ben asked.

  “She didn’t say that, and I didn’t ask.”

  Fred bit down, and the cord suddenly sprang into action, retracting on command. It snaked in quickly and the plug smacked Fred in the butt. The dog seemed stunned, then gave a delayed bark.

  Ben shook his head. “How do you like that? We’re actually stupider than that dumb dog of yours. Forget your average female.” He made a face back at Hunt. “So, was she okay to look at?”

  Hunt watched Fred lick his fur. He exhaled. “To tell you the truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if she were only attracted to hedgehogs. And the fact that she’s pregnant? Weird maybe, but so not a problem. It just made her all the more womanly. In fact, everything about her turned me on.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AFTER SARAH’S SPEEDY RECOVERY, the three pedicures, and, luckily, no further dramas, Julie drove them all to Katarina’s. She pulled into the driveway, and Katarina glanced over her shoulder to the backseat of the Honda CR-V. “She’s asleep. Is that a bad sign?”

  Julie turned off the engine. “I think it’s perfectly normal for a woman in her thirtieth week of pregnancy to fall asleep at the end of a long day. It’s other things that have me concerned,” she said in a low voice. She glanced behind, then pointed outside, out of earshot.

  Katarina nodded and, wincing as she opened the door as quietly as possible, tiptoed out. They huddled together by the driver’s-side headlight, their backs to the car.

  Katarina began, “I thought you said that dizziness happened occasionally when you’re pregnant, especially if the mom-to-be is overheated or hasn’t eaten in a while.”

  Julie shook her head. “I know what I said. That Sarah was sitting down, allowing the blood to collect in her lower limbs, and when she stood up, not enough blood returned to her heart and her blood pressure dropped, causing her to faint. That part’s simple.”

  “Are you worried about something else?”

  “She comes in every two weeks at this stage, but I’d like to see her sooner. I don’t think it’s something more serious, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “So there’s no need to worry then, right?”

  “Wrong. There’s every chance in the world that her fainting could happen again.”

  “But if she takes precautions—you mentioned getting up slowly, lying on her side instead of her back, eating a bunch of small meals.”

  “That will help, but what if she faints while she’s driving? What then?”

  Katarina covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. That could be serious.”

  A noise came from the car.

  They turned around guiltily.

  Sarah stood by the open door of the backseat. She was holding on to the edge of the door, appearing none too steady on her feet.

  Katarina moved quickly. “Hey, kiddo, how are you feeling? You were out for the count, so we thought we’d let you sleep some more in the car.”

  “Good thinking.” Sarah tried to look at her feet and frowned. She was still wearing flip-flops after having her pedicure, with a long piece of tissue woven between her toes to keep the polish from smudging. That’s right, her shoes were in her small nylon knapsack. She turned around to find them, wobbling a little. “Maybe I’m not quite up for this baby-shower thing.”

  Julie came over by her side. “Don’t worry. No one should be here for another half hour or more. Besides, it’s not like it’s such a big deal. We just invited a few people to make it festive. Rosemary from work and some of your clients and neighbors.”

  Katarina circled around Sarah and lifted the knapsack off the backseat. “Here, let me get your stuff. Julie can get my bag along with hers.”

  “At least let me carry the pie. I’m not a complete invalid, you know,” Sarah insisted. She took a few steps along the gravel drive and felt a bit dizzy again. Maybe carrying the pie wasn’t smart after all. She stopped and breathed in slowly. No, she could do this. A question of mind over matter.

  She stared straight ahead and squared her shoulders. It wasn’t more than ten feet into Katarina’s house, even if she did have to step around a sexy black Porsche that blocked the direct route.

  Julie ran her fingers over the sleek fender. “Has Ben traded in his motorcycle for this little beauty?” she asked.

  “Uh, no…” Katarina replied. “It’s—”

  Sarah didn’t bother to wait for Katarina since she knew the back door to the house was always unlocked. Grantham was preternaturally safe by the world’s standards. Anyway, Katarina had once explained that if any thief could possibly find their little stone cottage off a hidden country road that snaked along the canal, let alone make his way up their long, dark driveway, she would personally direct him to Ben’s supply of fly-fishing paraphernalia. She had been trying to clean the mess up for months to no avail.

  So, without waiting, Sarah turned the knob and with accustomed familiarity stepped into the kitchen and placed the pie on the countertop by the sink.

  She had barely turned to make way for the others when she heard a frantic scurrying.

  Pounce!

  Whoosh! The air went out of her lungs.

  Twice in one day, Sarah hit the deck, though this time safely on her rump. Even with extra padding the terracotta tiles hit hard.

  But they were nothing compared to the two paws pressed on her shoulder blades. Or the wet tongue attacking her nose.

  She winced and tried to turn away.

  The dog lavished a kiss on her ear, and Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. “So, don’t tell me. Is this a surprise guest?” She grabbed on to Fred’s neck as he continued to slobber her cheeks and nose. “Is it my imagination or is this dog seriously excited. I mean, take a look down there.” She couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Sarah!” Katarina shouted. She stormed across the kitchen. “Are you okay? Ben what’s going on here?”

  Julie stripped off her coat and draped it across one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table. She crossed her arms. “Here—” she stepped toward Sarah “—let me pull him off you.”

  At the sound of Julie’s words, the dog collapsed directly on Sarah’s chest. “Easier said than done,” Sarah said. At a loss for a better solution, she lay down on the hard tiles, and the dog went with her. His back legs spread-eagled, his body forming a convex shroud over Sarah’s ballooning stomach. He rested his snout between Sarah’s breasts, his wet nose burrowing against the hollow between her collarbone. “It’s always nice to be wanted,” she said good-naturedly.

  Katarina stomped down the hallway. “Ben! I know you’re here somewhere!”

  Sarah heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen and expected to hear some major groveling from Ben. This should be good, she thought, and angled her neck to deprive the dog of a clear shot at her mouth.

  Only it wasn’t Ben.

  First, she saw long legs in loose-fitting chinos that creased informally around a pair of well-worn boat shoes. She angled her chin up and got an upside-down view. Of a blondish man with wire-rimmed glasses and wearing a baggy crewneck sweater that looked like one of those old L.L.Bean black-and-white Norwegian numbers. From this perspective, she couldn’t get a really good look at his face, but she could see plainly that the sweater was raveling at the cuffs and had a patch on one elbow.

  First impressions might indicate someone down on his luck, but Sarah knew better. She had lived in Grantham long enough to recognize the trappings of Old Money. Except for a few of her physical therapy clients, she didn’t mix with the old guard. Not that they weren’t unfailingly polite. It’s just that invitations to join the exclusive tennis club on the west side of town, where the clay courts were always immaculately groomed and white tenni
s clothes were mandatory, had never reached her—not that she could have afforded it or particularly yearned for it.

  But the weird thing was, his legs had a certain familiarity to them. Sarah squinted and shifted the dog to get her shoulders around and get a more upright view. And then it hit her.

  “Fred, buddy, I know you’re a ladies’ man, but do you think you could be a little more subtle about it?” He bent over and grabbed the dog by his collar and lifted him off Sarah. He roughed up the fur around his collar even as the dog danced about his feet. “It’s okay, calm down. Sit.”

  If anything the dog pranced more.

  He pushed its rump down with his hand and the dog finally sat, his tail still wagging in double-time.

  Still petting the dog, he spoke without looking over. “I’m sorry about that. He’s usually afraid of strangers, but it seems you made a rather large impression on him.” He looked up.

  “Hunt? You’re Hunt, right?” Sarah asked with surprise. Only now did she again see how hollow the flesh was beneath his jutting cheekbones.

  “Sarah?” he asked, equally startled. He rubbed his hand over the dog’s back involuntarily. “You’re here for the party? Katarina’s party? I never expected…”

  The two of them stared dumbfounded at each other, unaware of the others in the kitchen.

  “You look different,” he said finally. “You’re not wearing a bathing suit.”

  “And you’re wearing glasses,” she said.

  Julie stepped next to Sarah. “Am I missing something here?”

  Katarina marched back into the kitchen with Ben in tow. “Would someone mind filling me in here?” she asked.

  Sarah twisted toward one friend then the other. She levered her weight on one hand, ready to hoist herself up.

  Everyone rushed to help. Hunt was first. Hunt and Fred. He—Hunt, not Fred—placed his hand under her upper arm and guided her up like a tugboat maneuvering a cruise ship. He didn’t let go when she was finally standing.

  Sarah gulped. An awkward moment or two passed. “I think I can stand on my own now.”

  “Oh, right.” Hunt stepped back. He seemed momentarily startled, too, but recovered after a beat to say, “And to think we coordinated all that after only one water aerobics lesson. Imagine if we’d had two?”