To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance)

by Kilby, Joan

  “Be nice to Katie at the party.” Before she could protest he held up a hand. “I’ve seen how you snub her.” Since Katie had done it to him, he knew how painful that was. Despite everything, he would spare her that if he could.

  His mother sighed and set another completed invitation on the stack. “I’ll try.”

  He changed the subject. “How was Tuti tonight?”

  “She’s very standoffish. Such a quiet little thing.”

  “You’re too loud around her,” Marty interrupted his Skype conversation to remonstrate. “You scare the poor kid.”

  “I scare her? Who put on Bambi for her to watch?”

  “How was I to know Bambi’s mother got shot by a hunter? I don’t watch kid’s movies.”

  Alison rolled her eyes. “When Bambi’s mother died, Tuti ran out of the room. It took me half an hour to find her. She was outside, hiding in your old tree fort.”

  “Katie thinks she’s grieving for her mother.”

  “Of course she’s grieving.” Alison tutted. “Poor thing.”

  “And that she misses her Bali family.”

  “She’s got us. We all adore her. I really want this party to be special. I’ve hired a bouncing castle and a clown—”

  John groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “That’s very generous of you. But I told you not to go overboard. She’s not used to a big fuss being made of her.”

  While Tuti could be outgoing around people she knew well, she was shy in large groups. His mother knew that. But he also understood where his mum was coming from and tried to be forgiving. When he and his sisters were growing up his mother had worked full-time as a journalist. She’d put in a lot of extra hours just to be on the same playing field as her male colleagues. Consequently she seemed to feel as though she’d missed out on her children’s youth and was determined to make up for it with her grandchildren.

  “She’ll have a terrific time,” Alison said firmly.

  Tuti ran back into the room, her pack on her back. Grinning, she pointed to her running shoes. The laces were knotted in a tangled bow. Not perfect but she wouldn’t trip.

  “Good effort.” John seized the opportunity to get away.

  On the way home in the car he asked Tuti, “Are you looking forward to your birthday party?”

  “Grandma hurt my ears.”

  “Grandma means well. She wants to make you happy.”

  Tuti shrugged and turned to look out the window at the dark streets. Her reflection in the glass showed a downturned mouth, sad eyes. He thought about how quiet the Balinese were, never raising their voices even when angry. His family was good-natured but loud, and his parents, though they loved each other deeply, squabbled constantly. It was hard to listen to sometimes but it didn’t mean much. Storms blew in and blew out.

  But Tuti wouldn’t understand all the nuances. It was going to take time for her to get used to his family. Katie was right, she undoubtedly grieved for her mother. Seeing his father on Skype had given him the idea to put her in contact with Wayan and Ketut.

  His mind circled back to Katie. Kissing wasn’t any part of the pact they’d made for their current relationship. Technically speaking, he hadn’t broken his promise—that only covered sexual innuendo and teasing. But he couldn’t afford to put her off. He needed to be in her good graces for Tuti’s sake.

  But just for a moment she had kissed him back. He would hang on to that. In the meantime he would try to take things slowly. Maybe he needed to cool it for a while. Katie wasn’t like the other woman he’d gone out with. She was a long-term proposition.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KATIE MADE IT through the school week somehow but by Friday afternoon she was relieved to come home and prop her sore ankle on a footstool. She booted up her laptop to do a search on Balinese spiritual beliefs. The Balinese were Hindus and believed in reincarnation she found out. Tuti would derive some comfort from believing her mother’s soul had been reborn into another life. But the girl must still be sad. She knew from her own experience a person couldn’t leapfrog over grief.

  Oh, here was something. Apparently inside the family compound was a spirit house or sanggah taksu, believed to house the spirits of the family’s ancestors. When a member of the family died, the priest conducted a ritual and family members made offerings to invite the part of the deceased spirit that stayed on earth to enter the shrine.

  Katie looked at the photos of tall narrow terra-cotta shrines with thick thatched roofs. Where was she going to find one of those? She tapped in a new search. A dozen links popped up. Wow. You could get anything on eBay.

  A closer look revealed that the shrine was actually a garden lantern in the shape of a Balinese spirit house. But if she took out the light and made a few other modifications, it would be close enough. She tapped in her payment details then paused before she hit the buy button.

  How was John going to feel when she showed up at his house with a shrine for Tuti’s dead mother? Would he accept her help or would it look like interference? She was only the girl’s teacher, after all.

  But if she was going to be friends with John then she wanted a deeper relationship with Tuti, too. Plus she felt an affinity to the motherless child and couldn’t bear to think of her being unhappy. With her background she was in a good position to help John help his daughter to heal.

  Over the past week she’d only seen John when he came to pick up Tuti. Was it her imagination or was he keeping those moments as brief as possible? Did he regret kissing her? Or was he feeling uncomfortable about something he or she had said? They’d covered so much ground the night of her bicycle accident that it could be either. His comment about her being unable to commit had floored her. She hadn’t even realized she’d refused to set a date for their wedding.

  All she’d ever wanted was a love as deep and true as her parents had. They’d never fought, never raised their voices in angry dispute. If they didn’t agree on a point they discussed it calmly and rationally. And then her father, a military man who’d commanded a platoon, found ways to give her mother what she wanted without losing face. Because he loved her that much. And understandably so—Mary Henning had been a goddess. Beautiful, serene, wise, talented. She somehow found time to be a professional cookbook author as well as a loving wife and mother.

  Katie had thought she’d found that perfect love with John. He was smart, handsome, brave, and had more integrity than anyone she’d known barring her brother and father. But as her illness progressed it had become clear he hadn’t really loved her, not as much as she’d needed him to. That’s what it boiled down to. She hadn’t been “enough” for him. Not pretty enough, not worthy enough. Not adventurous enough. Whatever he’d been looking for, she hadn’t been it.

  So why had he kissed her? What did he want from her now?

  And what was up with his “noble gesture” of walking away so she would rethink her stance on the mastectomy? It was easy to be noble from a distance. Especially now that she was okay. She wriggled her sprained ankle and made a face at the lancing pain. Then she rolled her shoulders and felt the tension from hours at the keyboard every night after dinner.

  So what if she hadn’t been ready to commit? Who said there was a timeline? It was a good thing she hadn’t married him if that’s the way he acted when she got sick. And he actually thought just by leaving he could change her mind about her treatment? No, it was good they hadn’t married. Divorce would have been a lot more drawn out and painful than him simply wal
king away.

  She’d done the hard work: recovering, getting healthy, surviving. Not for John—he’d left, but for her own sake. And she was successful. She was alive, goddamn it, when all the doctors—and John—thought she wouldn’t make it.

  She was still trying, trying so hard to be all she could be, to be indestructible. And he had the audacity to complain that she wouldn’t set a date for their wedding. If she hadn’t been enough for John as she was then, she didn’t know what more she could be now.

  * * *

  “IT’S A SPIRIT HOUSE, a sanggah taksu.” Perched on a chair in the foyer, Katie launched into an explanation of what she’d read on the internet.

  John circled the thatched roof shrine sitting in his foyer. He had a rough idea of what a spirit house was and while this wasn’t authentic it was close enough. And it was very nice that Katie had made an effort considering she was still limping around on crutches.

  “I went to Springvale and bought some offerings.” Katie opened her tote bag and removed sticks of incense, a banana leaf, a container of cooked rice and a marigold.

  “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble. Thank you.” Mentally he kicked himself. Why hadn’t he thought of this? He was more familiar with Balinese traditions than Katie. Why hadn’t he been a better parent?

  “Where is she?” Katie asked. “Can I show it to her?”

  “She’s on Skype with her aunt and uncle in Bali.” It had taken a week and several phone calls but he’d arranged for them to go to the internet café in the next village at a prearranged time. “You should show her while her aunt and uncle are online. They’ll be able to tell her more about the rituals.”

  He picked up the spirit house and carried it into his bedroom, close to the desk opposite his bed. His home office had ended up in his room, after all. “Tuti, look what Katie brought you, a sanggah taksu for your mother’s spirit.”

  Tuti turned away from the computer screen. Her eyes widened. Then she began chattering volubly in Balinese, gesturing to her aunt and uncle to look at the spirit house. John didn’t think he’d ever seen her this animated.

  He and Katie stood just out of the camera’s range. He put his arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. She smelled delicious, like a field of flowers. “Have you been avoiding me?”

  She turned her head and her big dark eyes were looking into his. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

  “Well, maybe I was giving you space.” He searched her face. “Are we good?”

  She laughed nervously. “Now there’s a loaded question.”

  Before he could pursue that Tuti hopped off the chair and went into a flurry of activity. Wayan and Ketut appeared to be instructing her. Tuti laid a small ball of rice on the banana leaf and decorated it with marigold petals. She took a stick of incense out of the package and looked to John. “Fire, Bapa. Please.”

  While he dug in the desk drawer for a book of matches Tuti ran out of the room. She came back with the photo he’d given her of her mother. She propped it against the back of the shrine behind the rice and marigold petals.

  John lit the joss stick and the delicate scent of sandalwood filled the room. Wayan and Ketut began to chant, soft and low, the fluid words weaving a spell. Tuti put her hands together and bowed her head. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. John felt a lump form in his throat. This was the same little girl who hadn’t cried at her mother’s funeral. Appearances could be deceiving.

  Katie pressed a tissue to her nose. “Excuse me.” She hurriedly left the room.

  John followed her, shutting the door behind him to give Tuti privacy. Katie was dabbing her eyes. “Are you crying or do you have a cold?”

  “There were some tears. Poor little Tuti. But I also have a cold.”

  “You look tired.” Now he noticed that her eyes were bloodshot and fine lines of strain radiated from the corners of her eyes. “If you’re sick you should be at home, resting.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t get too close to Tuti. I wouldn’t want her to catch a cold and be ill for her birthday party.”

  “I was more concerned about you.”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled a plastic pill bottle from her purse and shook a handful of tablets of various shapes and colors into her palm. Carefully she sorted them, separating out three, all different. “I’ll get a glass of water.”

  John followed her into the kitchen. He handed her a clean glass from the cupboard. “What are those pills you’re taking?”

  Katie ran water from the tap. “My naturopath recommended them to boost my immune system.”

  His hands curled into impotent fists. Her reliance on alternative medicines was a hot button for him. It didn’t matter that he had no right anymore to have a say in her health care; nor had she given him any reason to be invested. But he couldn’t help his reaction. He believed in traditional medicine not this mumbo jumbo. “You believe in what those witch doctors say?”

  “Witch doctors? Come on, John, that’s harsh. This is the twenty-first century.” She popped the first pill.

  “I’ve read reports that natural remedies can act against legitimate medications with bad effects. At best they’re ineffective, at worst they could hurt you. I hope you also see a real doctor.”

  She gave him an odd look. “I have a cold, not a terminal illness.” She tossed another tablet into her mouth, took a drink and swallowed. “These have vitamin C in them plus a whole pile of other good things.” She started reading the packaging. “Spirulina, echinacea…”

  All items which at most had only anecdotal evidence for their effectiveness. Next she’d be telling him she could meditate her way out of a head cold. The faith she placed in her natural remedies, the way she bandied about the phrase “terminal illness” so glibly, was worrying. She’d been clear for six years, but she still had a higher-than-average risk of cancer recurring and would for the rest of her life. If that happened would she handle it any differently than last time?

  “Why does it bother you so much what medications I take?” she demanded.

  “You have to ask? I almost lost you once because of your…your crazy notions.”

  “You lost me because you walked away.”

  “I told you why I walked.”

  “It seems to me that was all about your crazy notion.”

  “Given another chance I might not take the same tactic but I would just as adamantly lobby for the most conservative treatment.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself for quite a few years. I’m doing a pretty good job, too.” She jabbed him in the chest. “You’ve been pestering me to be friends or something for years. In all that time have you ever asked yourself whether you’re prepared to accept me as I am?”

  He stared at her.

  She rattled the pill bottle. “This is who I am. Herbal medicines and organic food. Naturopaths and homeopaths. Anyone and anything that I believe can keep me well. Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe you still see me as someone who’s sick.”

  He blinked. Could she be right?

  The sound of Tuti crying in the other room tracked across his radar. “Something’s wrong.”

  The Skype screen had frozen in the middle of the ritual for Nena. Tuti’s aunt and uncle’s images were a pixilated blur, their mouths open and unmoving. Tuti clicked the mouse over and over, not knowing how to get them back. She spoke in her own language, distraught far beyond what was reasonable.

  “Tuti, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’ve los
t the connection, that’s all.” He put an arm around her while he repaired the connection. He got Wayan and Ketut back on Skype and helped Tuti dry her tears. Then he went looking for Katie.

  He found a note on the hall table atop a book. “I also brought this over for Tuti. Read this to her. I’ll see you both at her party.”

  The book was for children who’d lost a loved one, to help them deal with their grief. John shook his head. Once again Katie had beat him to the punch on something beneficial for Tuti. He could only be thankful she was in his life and that she cared about his daughter. He thought he knew something about coming face-to-face with the fear of losing a loved one. But she’d lost her mother. He knew nothing compared to her.

  And yet, after her mother died, her fear had been realized and was over. Presumably she’d found some closure. For him the fear was ongoing. Because of Katie’s family history she would always be at greater risk of cancer. Her attitudes hadn’t changed as she’d grown older; they’d become more entrenched. If she got sick again their whole conversation would pick up where they’d left off.

  Didn’t she see? Just because she’d survived once didn’t mean she was indestructible.

  * * *

  KATIE PAINTED THE wrapping paper for Tuti’s birthday gift herself. Cheeky brown monkeys swung from palm trees next to a sandy beach lapped by blue waves. She had fun shopping for Tuti and was tempted to shower her with gifts. But she’d reined herself in knowing John wouldn’t appreciate his daughter being spoiled. In an import shop she’d found an adorable family of brightly painted wooden cats from Bali sitting up like people on a couch.

  Anticipating seeing Tuti’s face light up kept her humming all morning. Her ankle was improving although it ached after standing on it all week. Her cold was better, too, no doubt thanks to her special supplements. Take that, John Forster! But with her first deadline looming, the party would seriously cut into her plan to write all weekend.