Family Be Mine

by Tracy Kelleher

  She also knew that for better or worse, they both had to make the best of the situation. She might not be any happier than he was, but Sarah was determined to act civilly until the baby came or preferably, until she came up with another idea. After all, it’s not as if by temporarily moving in, she was making any kind of emotional commitment. At best you could describe their arrangement as roommates of convenience. That’s what we are, Sarah decided. Roommates.

  Besides, not to be totally self-centered, he was going through a difficult time, too. She might be about to have a baby all on her own, but he was grappling with life-and-death issues—all on his own. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt her to reach out to him then, provide some respite from her own self-doubts and fears?

  With more effort than she wanted to admit, Sarah swung her legs to the side of the bed and, grabbing on to the side table, swiveled to an upright position. The room swam a little—not so bad this time—and she followed Julie’s instructions to take her time before standing up.

  By the time she padded down the stairs in her bare feet she saw that Hunt had unpacked her boxes, but the contents lay strewn on the island.

  He looked up as she approached. “I wasn’t quite sure where to put things. My experience in the kitchen is pretty much limited to pressing the power button on the microwave, using the wine cooler and opening the refrigerator door. Oh, yes, and the freezer for ice.” He picked up her tomelike copy of the Escoffier Cookbook and asked, “What is this? The baker’s bible?”

  “Don’t even joke about something so sacred.” She swiped the book from his hand and rested it safely on the countertop. “Some people jog to relax or do crossword puzzles or watch kung fu movies. I bake.”

  “Didn’t you ever hear of drinking? Speaking of which, would you care for some wine?” He turned around and opened the wine cooler beneath the counter.

  “No, thanks. Alcohol is a no-no during pregnancy.”

  Hunt frowned. “Of course. Sorry about that.”

  “But you can have a glass.”

  “No, that’s all right. How about something along the lines of…” He examined various small containers that he’d unloaded from her boxes. “Here’s something called ‘Sleepy Time’ tea. The bears in the picture on the box look very content, so it must be good.”

  Sarah laughed. “Yes, it’s my nighttime ritual.”

  “Then by all means. I’ll just put some water in the kettle. That much I can do. You can get the mugs down from the overhead cabinet by the dishwasher.

  “Listen,” he continued as he busied himself filling the Michael Graves kettle from the sink tap and igniting a gas burner on the stove, “I want to apologize for my behavior when we first got here. I think I started freaking out a bit. It’s one thing to tell everyone that you’re happy to help out, but it’s another, once you get home…to realize—”

  “That you’re actually saddled with a complete stranger?” Sarah lined the mugs up side by side and opened the box of tea bags.

  Hunt turned around, took off his glasses and rested them on the counter. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that.”

  “But then again…” Sarah glanced around, sensing something was missing. That’s right. “Where’s Fred?”

  “He finally succumbed to exhaustion and is asleep on his bed in the corner by the couch.” The teakettle whistled. Hunt poured the water into the cups. Silently, they watched the tea brew.

  “Sugar?” Hunt asked nervously. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any milk.” He pulled out a slim drawer for spoons.

  “No, thanks. I just take it plain. Do you have a small bowl or something I can save this in?” She held up her tea bag on her spoon.

  “Here, I’ll throw it into the garbage under the sink.”

  “Actually, I like to reuse my tea bags since I don’t like my tea too strong.”

  Hunt looked at her with wide eyes. “I’m sure that’s very admirable, a very ‘waste not, want not’ philosophy and all. But I think as long as you’re staying here, we can afford to go a bit wild and only use them once.” Hunt whisked away her tea bag and threw his away, too. Then he raised his hand toward the living room. “Shall we?”

  “Okay.” Sarah took her mug and followed him over. She studied the low, straight couch and the armchair that slanted back.

  “I think the couch might be the best bet for you. I can probably find some pillows if you want.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got a few pillows at my apartment that Julie needlepointed for me. Maybe I can bring them over?” She eased herself down on the corner of the couch, and took a sip of her tea.

  “Julie and needlepoint? Why does that seem like such an oxymoron?” He sat in the bowed-steel armed chair with a casual grace, and flopped one leg over the other, resting his ankle atop the opposite knee. “Speaking of your apartment, what about getting some more of your stuff, as well. I don’t know, perhaps you need another pair of shoes, more flour? That lovely bathing suit of yours?”

  Sarah moaned. “Please, don’t remind me about the class.” She took another sip of tea and thought about the logistics of her situation. “Let’s see. Tomorrow’s Friday, so I only need one day of work clothes, not that much fits me these days. Over the weekend, I’ll probably call Katarina to have her pick me up to get some more of my stuff.”

  “Why call her? I can do it.”

  “Well, I’m sure you probably have better things to do over the weekend.”

  “I’m free, I promise.”

  “Well, for a second reason, your sports car is very nice, but I don’t think the trunk and that itsy-bitsy backseat would fit much of my stuff. So, I thought Ben’s Cherokee would be better.”

  “What about your car? You have a car, right?”

  “Yeah, a four-year-old Honda Accord.”

  “Perfect! I can drive over to your place, load up your car and bring the stuff back here. Then, while you’re unpacking, I’ll drive it back and get my car. Simple, right?” Hunt drank some tea, then studied the remains in the mug. “Hey, this isn’t bad. I could get to like it.”

  He sat forward and rested his mug on the glass coffee table between the couch and the chair. Sarah wanted to say something about coasters, but caught herself. His cleaning lady was probably a whiz with Windex.

  Hunt got up and wandered to the low wooden bookshelves. He pushed aside some magazines and books and finally found what he wanted. His BlackBerry. “Why don’t you give me your cell phone number?”

  “I thought you’d given up wearing a watch and carrying a phone.”

  “I’ll compromise. I’ll leave the watch off but take the phone.” He sat forward.

  She rattled off her number.

  He stared at his screen. “Wait a minute. I need my glasses. Now where did I put them?”

  “I think you left them on the kitchen counter. You don’t wear them all the time?”

  He got up and retrieved them and settled them on his nose. “No, I only need them to read, but I tend to just keep them on because I keep forgetting where I put them down.” He started tapping in her number.

  “You don’t need me to repeat it?” she asked.

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  Sarah figured he probably got a lot of things if he was Ben’s business partner.

  “Done. When you go upstairs later, I’ll call your phone, and then you’ll have my number. That way you can call me when you need a ride.”

  Sarah finished her tea, but couldn’t bring herself to put the cup on the beautiful coffee table. “You know, I think tomorrow I’ll just walk into work. It’s not that far from your house, and it’ll be good exercise.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, as long as you’re staying here I feel more or less responsible.”

  “I think ‘less’ is the operative word. Feel less responsible,” Sarah said.

  “Ha, easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’ll feel the full force of her wrath if anything goes wrong.”

  “Who? Your mother?�
��

  “My mother? No, she’s a pussycat by comparison. I’m talking about your doctor—the scary needlepointer.”

  Sarah crossed her arms, amused. “I think if push came to shove, you could probably go toe to toe with her. This bumbling rich kid act you put on isn’t fooling me.”

  “It isn’t? Too bad. I’m not used to being so transparent.” He winked at her.

  Sarah knew he was teasing, but a knot deep in her stomach tightened. She put her hand to her belly. The baby was high-fiving, too. She dropped her chin. Don’t jump to conclusions, she quickly reminded herself. The guy was simply a natural born charmer. After all, she was pregnant for God’s sake! Not exactly the greatest come-on.

  “Actually, speaking of my mother, I suppose I should let her know sometime that you’re staying here,” Hunt said.

  “From what I gather about your mother, you think she doesn’t know already?”

  Hunt nodded. “You’re right.”

  They smiled at each other. Hunt drummed the tips of his fingers on the metal chair arm. Sarah stared out the window. The night was cloudless, the single streetlamp a soft glow illuminating the treetops from the other side of the street. If there’d been a clock in the room it would have been ticking. Loudly.

  She glanced at Fred, curled up like a ball on his saggy cushion. “He’s…ah…really asleep.”

  Hunt craned his neck to get a peek. “Yup, dogs’ll do that.”

  “Listen,” she said.

  “You know,” he said at the same time.

  They cleared their voices.

  “You first,” Hunt offered.

  Sarah bobbed her chin. “Okay. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to feel obliged to entertain me or even spend much time with me. Just helping me get around is more than enough. I’m sure you have your own life, just like I have mine.” Which at the moment, it was true, consisted of work, obstetrician appointments and trying to sleep.

  “Naturally, I don’t want to cramp your style,” he said.

  She snickered.

  “But, really, I don’t mind doing things together,” Hunt added. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but maybe our time together could be a kind of social rehab after hibernating from chemo.”

  So she wasn’t completely off the mark. Sarah felt relieved. She shook her head with a sense of purpose. Helping people was something she was good at. “In that case, the least I can do is show you how to get in shape and regain your strength. Maybe put on some muscle? You can think of me as a personal trainer, okay?”

  They eyed each other, and Sarah was aware that what she was feeling was not the usual professional/client rapport. And the thought of what she was actually feeling? That had her more than a little afraid.

  After a prolonged moment, Hunt broke eye contact. “I think this calls for a toast, don’t you?” He reached over and raised his mug. “To new beginnings.”

  I can do this, she coached herself. Then she raised her mug. “To new beginnings.”

  Fred snored sublimely.

  Hunt grinned. “And to a good Sleepy Time.”

  Sarah didn’t want to think about her dreams.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “YOU MISSED A NICE get-together, Wanda,” Rosemary, Sarah’s office manager, said. She filled the drip coffeemaker with water from the carafe and then flicked the machine on. Wanda and Lena were the first appointments of the day, and they always came in early.

  “Why I bother going to League of Women Voters’ meetings when I know how New Jersey politics works is beyond me. Still, it’s not like I didn’t already hear all about the party.” Wanda nodded to Lena sitting next to her in the waiting room. “I’ve got my own Katie Couric here, just as perky.”

  Lena, dressed in a navy blue warm-up outfit, was thumbing through a copy of People. “I must be really getting old. I don’t recognize half the names of the people they’re writing about.” She flipped the magazine shut and looked up. “Please, you were the one who called me wanting to get the so-called ‘inside scoop.’ And those are her words and not mine, Rosemary,” Lena added with a definitive nod. “What kind of coffee is that, anyway? It smells wonderful.”

  “Just the usual from Sam’s Club.” Rosemary pushed back the cuff of her violet-colored turtleneck sweater. The color complemented her nails with their air-brushed pansies and rhinestone accents. She glanced at her watch. “She’s late, which isn’t like her.”

  Rosemary’s frown indicated concern. “I thought you said that Dr. Antonelli told her she couldn’t drive anymore. You don’t think something’s happened?”

  Wanda waved her hand in a calming motion. “Rosemary, remember your blood pressure. Take several deep, cleansing breaths.” She turned toward Lena. “I thought you said you fixed everything with Iris’s son, Huntington? You did, didn’t you?”

  Lena sighed. “The two of you, such mother hens. Forget those big breaths, Rosemary.” She caught the receptionist mid-gulp. “I’ve got something much better.” She reached for her purse, a Coach bag that Katarina had given her last Christmas. It was lovely, but much too expensive in Lena’s opinion. “Here.” She held out several Lindt truffles. “I’ve got dark chocolate. They’re supposed to be very good for the heart.”

  “I shouldn’t,” Rosemary protested but quickly caved. She unwrapped the round candy and popped it in her mouth. “I feel better already,” she said between swallows.

  “Excuse me.” Wanda wiggled her finger as Lena was about to put the chocolate away. “Excuse me,” Lena said with mock horror. She set a chocolate in Wanda’s outstretched hand. “And as to your worrying, don’t. After the shower I got a text from Katarina that she saw her leave with him in that tiny sports car of his, with that crazy dog.”

  The mention of the word dog, made Wanda’s shoulder bag, lying on the floor by her chair, start shaking.

  Lena lifted her eyebrows. Why wasn’t she surprised? Contrary to all regulations, numerous health codes and everyone’s distress, Wanda insisted on carrying her lapdog, Tiger, with her wherever she went.

  “As to Sarah’s arrival, they should be here—” Lena checked at her very sensible Timex wristwatch “—in approximately three minutes.” She tapped the crystal.

  “You know I got a new battery last week from the watch repairman at the Trenton Farmers’ Market. What a bargain, and a genius of a man, in my opinion.”

  Wanda harrumphed. “We all know about your bargains. And pray, tell us how you are able to so accurately predict Sarah’s ETA? Your new crystal is also a crystal ball?”

  “There’s a watch repairman at the farmers’ market? I didn’t know that,” Rosemary said. She neatly folded her candy wrapper and looked at it longingly.

  “Here, have one more,” Lena offered, and dug in her bag. “And why I know what’s going on is that while I was driving here earlier this morning, I saw them walking together.”

  “And they were coming in this direction?” Rosemary leaned over the counter that separated her desk from the carpeted reception area. Grantham Physical Therapy was a ground-floor space in a small office complex opposite the Grantham Shopping Center.

  “Sarah was definitely walking in this direction, but that crazy dog of Huntington was pulling down some driveway. Which may explain why Sarah is late.”

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful that she has company. What’s a few minutes one way or the other?” Rosemary said.

  “Tell that to the reservation desk at the tennis club,” Wanda shot back.

  “Ach, Wanda, I’m disappointed in you. Sometimes punctuality is not the first concern for a woman. Did you ever think that maybe Sarah likes being late on account of a man?”

  “Oh, please, Lena. You of all people know a woman’s first priority need not be a man. What did we fight for all those years ago?” Wanda didn’t bother to wait for a reply. “We marched the streets so that a woman can do it all.”

  There was a decisive yip from her bag on the floor.

  Wanda bent over and made a kissy-face with her
lips. “That’s my sweetness. What a good little doggy.” She straightened up and looked from one woman to the other. “What? I can’t be an ardent feminist and a dog lover?”

  “Of course you can,” Lena agreed. Though how anyone could love Tiger was beyond Lena. “And by the same token, Sarah can remain strong and independent but still be open to kindness and affection—and not just from dogs. After all, when we decided to sign her up for water aerobics, we had more than physical fitness in mind.”

  Rosemary nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. She deserves the best, especially after that whole Zach thing.”

  All three women nodded their heads in agreement.

  “So let’s all try to be somewhat sympathetic when she comes in,” Lena advised, especially to her friend. “Besides, Huntington is a nice boy. Very polite. Very smart. Sarah could do worse, far worse.” She held up her hands. “But remember. Don’t make a fuss over her. Everyone act very natural when she arrives.”

  There was the sound of footsteps scraping on the mat outside the door. All three watched as the door handle moved downward.

  A BUZZER SOUNDED WHEN the door opened.

  “Hi, everyone,” Sarah said in greeting. Her cheeks had a rosy glow from the cool air. Fall had come early this mid-September morning.

  “Hello,” the three women chimed as one. Wanda stood ramrod straight, her hands clenched in fists by her sides. Lena made a show of flipping through a magazine. Rosemary rearranged the Sweet’n Low packets in the bowl by the coffee pot.

  Sarah frowned. “Is something wrong? I know I’m a few minutes late. Sorry about that. We can run over the hour to make up for it.”

  “Late? You’re late?” Lena looked at her wristwatch.

  “So you are! We didn’t even notice, we were so busy chatting, weren’t we?”

  Rosemary nodded. “Chatting and talking…” Her voice trailed off.

  Sarah angled her head to catch the title of Lena’s magazine. “Field and Stream?”

  “I’m thinking of taking a trip to Montana.” Lena slapped the magazine shut. “I’ve never been out west to see the national parks, all the mountains.”