Their Other Mother

by Janis Reams Hudson

  There he went again, she thought, being nice to her. She didn’t want him being nice. Flustered, she turned away.

  “But I have to admit,” he added, “that I’m surprised.”

  She arched a brow in question.

  “This? From the woman who thought they were too young to handle chores?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve seen the light.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Now, if you can just get them to make their beds in the mornings...”

  She turned away from him. “Okay,” she said to the boys. “That’s plenty. You can go down and watch TV now. You did a good job.”

  As fast as she could, she snatched up the wet towels and followed the boys downstairs.

  Frowning, Ace watched her go. What the hell had that been about? He’d complimented her handling of the boys, and she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

  Just as well, he figured. Whenever they stayed in the same room together too long—like more than thirty seconds—all they did was pick at each other. Someday he was going to figure out why.

  He went to his room and changed out of his wet shirt. Should have taken it off before the boys’ bath.

  By the time he got downstairs, Belinda was snuggled in his recliner before the television, and all three boys were sprawled across her.

  “Hey, come on, guys,” he said. “Aunt Binda’s tired. Give her a break, will ya?”

  With Clay’s feet framing her ears, she frowned up at Ace. “I’m not tired.”

  Ace found himself wanting to trace the dark circles beneath her eyes, but thought better of it. She’d probably snap his fingers off. He tucked them safely into the front pockets of his jeans. “You look tired.”

  “Yeah, well, so do you, cowboy.”

  “Rancher. And I am tired. Any coffee left?”

  “Sure,” she answered. He was halfway to the kitchen when he heard her mutter, “In the pantry, in the can marked Folgers.”

  She hadn’t said it to amuse him, but to irritate him. He knew that. Still, he found himself clamping his jaw tight to keep from chuckling. He wasn’t going to laugh. She wasn’t going to make him laugh. Not, at least, until he was in the privacy of his own bedroom with the door shut.

  Damn her. How could she be so irritating one minute, and make him want to laugh the next?

  He started a fresh pot of coffee and hung around in the kitchen while it brewed. Normally he made it a point to spend this half hour of TV time with the boys. It was their time together, the four of them.

  Not that he hadn’t been seeing a great deal of them all day, every day, since Mary had left. His brothers and the hands had had to take up the slack while Ace kept a close eye on his sons for the past couple of weeks. As much as he missed Mary, and as desperately as he needed a new housekeeper, he was grateful for those two weeks when there had been only him to care for the boys. He hadn’t felt this close to them or spent so much time with any of them since they were each newborns. He was sorry for that, and when he did find a housekeeper, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again of letting someone else make all the decisions regarding his sons.

  Cathy had been a good mother, a wonderful mother. If she had kept the boys to herself for the most part, it was because Ace had let her. She had thought that was what he wanted. Maybe he’d thought so, too. But no longer.

  They were awfully quiet m there, he thought, but resisted the urge to check on them. Belinda hadn’t even seen them in six months. She might just barely tolerate him, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about how much she loved her nephews. He would give her these few minutes alone with them while he waited on the coffee.

  The hiss, spit and drizzle of the coffeemaker was the only sound in the kitchen. He’d never realized just how quiet the house could be at night.

  Jack had gone back to his own house for the night. When Jack took over as foreman a few years ago, Stoney had insisted on moving out of the foreman’s house and into the bunkhouse with the other hands. Jack, Ace knew, had been reluctant to move into the small house at the other end of the complex. He didn’t want Stoney to feel as if he were being completely pushed aside. But Stoney had finally convinced him that he didn’t like living alone and would prefer the company of the other men in the bunkhouse. Of course, right now the only other man in the bunkhouse was Jerry, since Ace had fired Dan Jenkins last month for drinking on the job.

  So Jack lived alone in the foreman’s house, and he seemed to like it just fine.

  Ace had liked it, too, for a while. It had given him and Cathy more privacy. Especially after Rachel had gone off to college and Trey had built his own house on the north side of the ranch to be near his crops.

  Now, with Aunt Mary gone, it was just Ace and the boys. Despite the noise those three active boys could make, the house seemed too...still. Too quiet. Empty.

  On the wall beside the refrigerator, the phone rang. When Ace answered, he was pleased to hear his mother-in-law’s voice.

  “Elaine. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better.” But her voice was huskier than usual. “Did Belinda get there all right?”

  “Early this afternoon.”

  “I’m so sorry about all of this, Ace.”

  “You can’t help it if you got sick,” he protested. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

  “I know you and Belinda don’t always get along.”

  Now there was an understatement. “We’re bumping along okay.” If he didn’t count being served corn dogs and canned spaghetti circles for supper, he thought with a rueful grin. “She’s great with the boys, Elaine, you know that. That’s the important thing.”

  He heard her let out a heavy sigh. “Can I talk to them? I want to thank them for the balloons.”

  “What balloons?”

  “Oh, what do they call it? Virtual balloons. They sent me a picture of balloons, with their get-well wishes on them, through e-mail. I wanted to thank them.”

  “So that’s what they were up to. Hold on, I’ll get them.” He put the phone down and went to the living room to get the boys, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him. They were asleep. All of them. Belinda lay back in his big recliner, dozing with all three sleeping boys draped over and across her in various poses.

  If anyone ever wanted to know what the human body would be like without bones, they had only to look at a sleeping child. Clay had one foot in each of Belinda’s ears, Jason lay sprawled across Clay’s belly, face up, arms over his head as if he’d fallen asleep while under arrest. Grant had his face buried next to Belinda’s hip, looking like he was trying to suffocate himself. His knees were in his chest, his rump in the air.

  Ace felt his heart perform that amazing miracle of clenching and swelling at the same time. It happened every time he realized how blessed he was, how much he loved those three little people that sprang, somehow, from his loins.

  God, they were so perfect. And they were growing so fast. And he was so damn terrified that, housekeeper or not, he would never be smart enough, wise enough, patient enough...wouldn’t be any of the things a man had to be to raise children on his own, without a woman beside him to soften the edges, teach them compassion, help guide them to manhood.

  What am I supposed to do, Cathy? How am I supposed to do this without you?

  There was no answer. There never was.

  He went back to the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Sorry, Elaine, they fell asleep.”

  “Seeing Aunt Binda must have worn them out,” she said with a fond smile in her voice.

  “Yeah. Her, too. They’re sprawled all over her, and all four of them are out.”

  Elaine laughed. “Well, you tell them I called to thank them for the balloons.”

  “They’ll be sorry they missed you. I’ll have them call you tomorrow evening.”

  “Good. And how are you doing, dear?”

  “Me?” He shrugged. “I’m all right.”

  “Have you been dating anyone special?”
>
  Ace didn’t know whether to be shocked, amused, or angry. When the hell was he supposed to have time to see anyone, special or not? And why would he want to? “No,” was all he said.

  “Ace, dear, you need to get out, kick up your heels. You’re way too young to stop living. Cathy wouldn’t like to think of you spending the rest of your life alone, you know that.”

  That was quite a leap, Ace thought, from dating, to the rest of his life. “I haven’t stopped living,” he protested.

  “I hope not. You should think about remarrying. It’s been two years, Ace.”

  “Elaine...”

  “I know, it’s none of my business. Just think about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He asked about her husband, Howard, and after a few more minutes they hung up.

  Hell. His wife’s mother wanted him to find a new wife. “Get real, Elaine,” he muttered. He needed a new wife like he needed more sagebrush.

  Yeah, smart guy, and you were just worrying about how to raise the boys without a woman beside you. There’s the answer. Get remarried.

  Bad idea, he knew. He wasn’t ready for a move like that. Besides, he knew every woman in the county, and he couldn’t see himself getting mixed up with any of them. Not that there was anything wrong with them. Wyatt County had some damn fine women—what few women it had. He just wasn’t interested in dating, let alone getting remarried.

  Shaking his head at Elaine’s ridiculous suggestion, and at himself for even thinking about it, he headed back to the living room. There were three little boys he knew who belonged in bed.

  One by one, Ace carried his sleeping sons upstairs to their room. With all three tucked in for the night, he uttered a quick, silent prayer of thanks and another for guidance. He wanted his sons raised with love and laughter, rather than beneath the iron rule of their father, the way he had been.

  He was not, Ace assured himself, like King Wilder. Would not be. Could not be.

  And on that pleasant note he turned and went back downstairs.

  What was he supposed to do about Belinda? Leave her asleep in the chair? Wake her up? He was sure that if the situation were reversed and he was the one asleep in the chair, she would find some diabolical way to wake him. Ice water in his face, maybe. Or his lap.

  She lay there, looking every bit the beautiful angel—which awake, she most certainly wasn’t. It dawned on him, as he stood watching her sleep, that he had never seen her motionless before. Not once, in the ten years he’d known her.

  He remembered the day they met. Hell, it was his and Cathy’s wedding rehearsal. Who wouldn’t remember that? The sister of the bride had narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down.

  “I don’t trust men like you,” she’d said. “If you hurt my sister, I’ll have to kill you.”

  Before Ace had had a chance to defend himself and assure her he had no intention of ever deliberately hurting the woman he loved, Cathy had stepped between them and smiled sweetly. “Be nice, Belinda.” Cathy always smiled sweetly.

  Never had Ace seen two sisters so different. In looks, in attitude, in temperament.

  With a bittersweet ache in his chest, he glanced at the ten-by-twelve framed photo of Cathy on the wall. He didn’t need it, of course, to remember her. She was in his heart still, and always would be. So beautiful, with her creamy skin and pale blond hair to the middle of her back, her quiet blue eyes and soft, smiling mouth. Dainty, petite. The top of her head had barely reached his collarbone. So soft, so sweet, so loving. Ace had never heard her raise her voice or utter a harsh word to anyone. She had been, quite simply, the warmest, most giving person he’d ever known. When she had died she’d left a hole in his heart and in his life that would never be filled.

  Then, he thought with a twist of his lips, there was Belinda. Two years older than Cathy, she’d taken her coloring from their father rather than from their mother, as Cathy had. Her skin was darker, more gold than cream. She wore her black hair short, and her gray eyes were the color of angry thunderheads. At least when she was sniping at him, which was nearly all the time they were around each other.

  Belinda was opinionated, hardheaded, as strong-willed as a U.S. Marine drill sergeant. She would argue with a fence post just for the fun of arguing.

  He shook his head. So different from Cathy.

  But Belinda could be soft. She was soft with his sons. There was no mistaking the love in those turbulent gray eyes when she looked at her nephews.

  Too bad her marriage a few years back hadn’t worked out. Maybe having children of her own would have mellowed her some. It certamly wasn’t too late for her to have a family of her own, he thought. She was only thirty-three. A lot of women waited until their thirties these days before starting a family.

  But it would take a hell of a man, he thought, to take her on. He’d have to be the most secure, self assured man in the world, or she’d cut him to ribbons with that sharp tongue of hers.

  That, Ace decided, was not fair of him. Belinda got along great with Jack and Trey. Sure, she and Trey razzed each other, but it was all in fun. Unlike some of her more biting comments toward him.

  With a sigh, Ace squatted next to the recliner. They needed a truce. He needed it. He’d had enough strife in his life. He wanted a little peace in his home these days. Maybe if he tried being nicer to her...

  “Belinda,” he said softly. “Hey, Aunt Binda, wake up.”

  No reaction.

  “Slim.” He reached out and placed his hand on her arm, and realized, at once, that it was possibly the first time he’d ever touched her, and equally possible that it was the biggest mistake of his life.

  She felt the touch, even through her sleep. It was warm and gentle. The hand was large and rough. And it shot a hot spark straight up her arm and down to her heels.

  Belinda came awake slowly, savoring the spark of sharp sexual awareness. She blinked, and Ace’s face came into focus. In that instant, with his hand on her arm and her blood humming hot and fast in her veins, truth burst through her. A terrible truth. All these years, all the tension she felt, the jittery sensation in the pit of her stomach, the vulnerability that made her so angry—all of it circled back and slammed the breath from her lungs. Sexual attraction.

  Guilt. Shame. Fury. She nearly choked on them. Belinda Randall is attracted to her sister’s husband.

  And he knew. He had to know. Why else would he be looking at her with all the horror she felt inside at the mere idea that she could want him?

  Without bothering to lower the footrest, she scrambled out of the recliner and raced upstairs to her room. For the second time that day, she braced her back against the closed door and slid to the floor. But this time there was no sense of relief that she’d managed to survive another round with him. This time there was only panic.

  In retrospect it all made a terrible kind of sense. The off-center feeling she got around Ace, the jitters. Perhaps subconsciously she’d recognized those things for what they were, and that was why she seemed to always be on the attack around him. A built-in defense mechanism to keep a nice, sharp distance between her and her sister’s husband,.

  If it wasn’t so pathetic, she might have laughed. Hysterically. If it wasn’t so ridiculous, she might have wept.

  He’d seen. Oh, God, Ace had seen her reaction—she knew he had. What was she going to do? She couldn’t admit it. Not ever. He would laugh in her face.

  And why not? The idea that he might be attracted right back was laughable. After Cathy, with her pretty blond looks, her soft shapely body, her one desire in life to please her man—what would any man want with Belinda after having had a woman like Cathy? Belinda wasn’t pretty, wasn’t blond. Her body was thin, with sharp angles instead of curves. She didn’t have any hips to speak of, and most of the measurement around her chest was ribs.

  She wasn’t quiet, wasn’t graceful, and she had more important things to think about than whether or not she could see her reflection in her freshly waxed floor.

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nbsp; The bitter tone to her own thoughts brought Belinda up short. Okay, so she’d always been a little envious—all right, since nobody was listening, pea-green with envy—of her sister’s looks, popularity, the way all the boys in school—and later, the men—flocked around Cathy, all but drooling over her.

  From the time they had been small children, the pattern had been set. Belinda had been “Mama and Daddy’s little sweetheart.” Cathy was “Mama and Daddy’s pretty little angel.”

  Everybody knew angels were nicer, prettier, more important than sweethearts. When friends and family came over, everyone always made a fuss over how pretty Cathy was. Belinda had been complimented on her intelligence. She’d been proud of that, taking it as a high compliment, until she realized it was meant as a sop. Then, in her young mind, it became a slap in the face, leaving her feeling inferior in every way.

  As the girls had grown, nothing much changed. Things only got worse, the wounds deeper. Cathy played the title role in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Belinda was a witch-like troll under the bridge in Three Billy Goats Gruff.

  Cathy was head cheerleader and homecoming queen; she had a date every Friday and Saturday night from junior high on, and her class studies centered around home ec. Belinda captained the debate team, was president of the student council, and excelled in math. Her first date was with geeky George Lem-bowsky, and only then because neither had a better offer for the senior prom.

  Cathy married a man most women would kill to get their hands on. A tall, sexy cowboy with his own ranch and who brought with him no parents-in-law to interfere. Belinda had married a twerp who expected her to support him in comfort for the rest of his life.

  Cathy produced three beautiful sons. Belinda produced a miscarriage, followed shortly by an ugly divorce.

  Now, here she was, coveting everything that had been Cathy’s—her three beautiful sons and their father—and it made her sick. A man who’d had Cathy Randall for his wife wouldn’t want anything to do with Belinda.

  And what the dickens was she thinking about that for, anyway? She pushed away from the door and started pacing. Good God. her sister’s husband. How low could she get? It didn’t matter that Catchy had been gone for two years. Ace would always belong to Cathy. How could a man ever forget such a sweet, loving angel? Such a perfect woman?