Max chuckled. “I doubt that.”
Lois ignored her husband’s comment. “You’ll just have to give the coffee table a wide berth, then, won’t you?” The snippy tone made the words sting, at least to Russ. Rachel let it pass.
“Great house.” She studied the high ceiling with its two-story glass wall. “Do birds ever fly into this thing? I mean, splat! Little broken necks and beaks. Not a pretty sight.”
“Ick!” Lauren cried.
Lois appeared to be puffing up for a rebuke until Max quieted her with a gesture. “We used to have problems. You might not be able to spot them from here, but up high we’ve attached a couple of hawk decals. That scares them off.”
Russ stepped in to further distract his mother. “The canyon’s an informal bird sanctuary. My parents keep a hummingbird feeder outside the kitchen window. You should see the birds hovering in midair. They’re beautiful.”
“Can we?” Lauren pleaded.
“Absolutely.” Pacified, Lois led them into the kitchen, where tomato-red paint offset the steely fixtures and black granite countertops. Past the breakfast table, they gazed into a trellised alcove where the scarlet feeding cylinder hung from a hook.
“Hold on,” Lois told her granddaughter. “I’m sure there’ll be one soon.”
As if on command, a tiny, bejeweled hummer darted to the tube and hovered as it sipped. “Oh! Pretty!” Lauren watched for several minutes before losing interest.
When Max offered a tour of the house, they readily accepted. Russ trailed the others, examining his childhood home with a new perspective. From an architectural standpoint, its use of space and unexpected angles commanded admiration, while subtly arranged works of art enhanced the serenity. Yet to him the place seemed empty. No picture books or toys dropped helter-skelter. No snack wrappers forgotten on a side table; not a castoff shoe or hairbrush out of place.
As Russ paced the upstairs hallway, old emotions dogged him. Anger, anxiety, a determination to carve his own course. Also an awareness of his good fortune in living amid the austere beauty of the canyon, with parents who loved him despite their inability to achieve closeness. They’d surely done their best with whatever skills they’d inherited from their own parents.
Amazingly, despite her dysfunctional early life, Rachel strolled through the passageway with her usual confidence. She didn’t seem bothered by his mother’s attempts to commandeer Lauren’s affections, nor feel compelled to try to impress anyone. Her self-possession anchored him.
They reached the corner room that used to belong to Russ and had later served as a guest chamber. Since the last time he’d glanced inside, blue fabric stitched with Asian motifs had replaced the Scandinavian bedcovers and draperies. He assumed the rather garish effect had been inspired by one of her friends.
“This room is for our little girl!” Lois proclaimed. “You can visit on the weekends and stay for a week or two next summer. Would you like that?”
Solemnly, Lauren addressed her toy. “What do you say, Officer Bud?” To the grown-ups, she said, “He says okay if Rachel and Russ come.”
That obviously hadn’t been the plan, Russ registered. To his mother, he clarified, “She’s just starting to get used to me. It’s too soon for her to consider paying extended visits.”
His mom’s jaw jutted with determination. She yearned so strongly to forge a connection, he could tell, that she had difficulty accepting limits. “I’m sure she’d love it here. My friend Marsha has a granddaughter, and the four of us would have lots of fun!”
Before his wife could continue, Max indicated an elaborately dressed doll atop the covers. “I believe your grandma has something else to show you, Lauren.”
“I almost forgot. This is for you!” The new grandmother bestowed the delicate toy upon Lauren. As the two fussed happily over the clothing, his mom’s face brightened. Tuning out everyone else, they debated until they chose a suitable name for the Asian character: Jasmine.
Russ’s father finally managed to steer everyone out the door. Taking her granddaughter’s hand, Lois cast a triumphant look over her shoulder at Rachel. Fortunately, Rachel was too busy checking out the location of the fire alarms to notice.
Russ hoped he’d misread his mother. The two women weren’t in a contest for Lauren’s affection.
In the dining room, his parents brought out a tea set, along with a plate of almond cookies and dumplinglike pastries studded with sesame seeds. Lois placed Jasmine at one end of the polished teak table and produced a shopping bag. “Let’s put your old toys in here,” she told Lauren, and in went the bear and Officer Bud. “We’ll set them by the front door so you don’t forget to take them home.”
Lauren stared in dismay as the bag disappeared into the living room. “Bring them back!”
Her grandmother returned. “They’ll be fine. Now have a seat and I’ll serve you tea. These sweets are the kind Asian children eat.”
Confused by the rapid-fire remarks, Lauren obeyed, but her eyes narrowed. Russ hoped the snack would restore her high spirits. Under the table, he patted his daughter’s arm until she relaxed.
“Tell us about your work, Rachel,” Max said as his wife poured the tea. “I understand you met Russ on the job.”
“Yeah. Nearly busted him.” She regarded her cup dubiously. “I’m more of a coffee person myself.”
His father, who had mellowed considerably in recent years, scooted back his chair. “I’ll fix some, if you don’t mind instant.”
“My favorite,” Rachel said.
Russ bit into his pastry and nearly choked. He hadn’t been expecting a thick, gooey paste with an odd flavor. Not bad, he supposed. He might learn to like it, but he feared Lauren’s reaction.
Too late—she was taking a bite. Leaning close, Russ whispered, “If you don’t like it, slip it quietly into your napkin. No spitting.”
Her face turning purple with disgust, the five-year-old ducked low and obeyed his request. Fortunately, Lois failed to notice. Coldly, she demanded of Rachel, “What on earth motivated you to join the police force?”
“Gives me a chance to meet such interesting people,” said his fiancée, straight-faced.
When Max returned, he handed her the sugar bowl and smoothly picked up the thread of the discussion. “Did I hear correctly that you nearly arrested Russ?”
“I mistook him for a perv.” Rachel appeared on the brink of adding that the term was the shorthand for pervert when she registered Lauren’s rapt attention and skipped ahead. “’Course, he turned out to be a rescuer. The chief was afraid he’d sue the department, so he assigned me to babysit the new doc and show him around town.”
“How unusual.” Lois had grown up in L.A., with its large, impersonal force. Russ suspected her only encounters with officers had been the occasional traffic violation.
“Was it love at first sight?” Max asked with a humorous note.
“Not quite. We got together after he fished me out of a swimming pool.” Rachel stirred three spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee.
While Russ’s parents were absorbing this remark, Lauren piped up, “Can’t you swim? I can dog-paddle.” She seemed happier now that she’d helped herself to a couple of almond cookies.
“That’s a good start. We’ll arrange for lessons next summer, so you can be water safe.” Russ considered swimming skills a necessity in Southern California. “And, yes, Rachel swims. I’m just better at it.”
His fiancée reached for a pastry. “Especially when I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.A bunch of us cops were horsing around.” She sank her teeth into the pastry and, halfway into a bite, began to sputter. After coughing into her napkin, she burst out, “What the Sam Hill is this? It tastes like sludge!”
Max, who’d avoided the pastries, laughed so hard he snorted tea out his nose. Grabbing his napkin, he wiped his face.
“Perhaps if your culinary tastes ran to something more sophisticated than doughnuts, you’d appreciate bean curd pastry!” Lois replied fur
iously.
Rachel set down the remainder of the dumpling. “I’m sorry. I have a tendency to blurt whatever comes to mind. I’m sure these are real popular somewhere.”
“I spit mine out.” Lauren’s pronouncement only deepened her grandmother’s obvious annoyance.
“The cookies are great.” Max passed the serving plate. “Trying food from different cultures is a valuable learning experience, don’t you agree?”
Rachel took two. “Absolutely. Like Dos Equis beer. That’s the Mexican brand. Dos equis means two Xs. Interesting, huh?”
“Can I try some?” Lauren asked.
“Only when you master the entire alphabet.” Catching Russ’s frown, Rachel added, “And turn twenty-one.”
Tactfully Max steered the conversation to the value of reading, which seemed a safe topic. They all declared themselves in favor of various children’s books, and meanwhile, Lauren slid under the table. She sat there at Russ’s feet undressing her new doll.
“Grandma!” she proclaimed from out of sight. “Jasmine isn’t wearing underpants!”
“We’ll buy her some next time you visit,” Lois promised. “Why don’t you sit in your chair? That’s what big girls do.”
Lauren clambered into view, bumping the table so Max’s fresh cup of tea sloshed onto the cloth. Then the doll appeared, upside down and totally nude.
Russ’s mother grimaced. She’d never had much patience with children, and the strain of dealing with a strong-willed granddaughter and a rough-edged future daughter-in-law had apparently sapped what little remained. “Isn’t it time for your nap?”
“Jasmine needs underwear now!” the little girl wailed.
“She can borrow from your other dolls when we get home.” Rachel cast a meaningful look at Russ.
He didn’t require an interpreter. “You’re right on target, Mom. Lauren’s tired. But we’ll be leaving soon. I suspect she’ll sleep all the way home.” He collected cups while his father gathered plates.
In the kitchen Max confided, “Your mother may take a while to recognize a diamond in the rough, but Rachel’s a great find.”
After setting down the cups, Russ hugged his father. Only for an instant, because they’d never been a demonstrative family. But when he stepped back, he saw tears in Max’s eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re also right about Lauren.” The older man got busy rinsing dishes. “She’s not ready for weekends with the new grandparents. As she gets older, it might be a different story. When’s her birthday?”
“Next month.” Russ had noticed the date while completing the forms for kindergarten.
“Your mother might insist on throwing a party. Hope that’s all right.” Max began loading the dishwasher. “We’re both excited to have a grandchild. We’ve tried to avoid thinking about her all these years because of the circumstances, but I’m glad you stepped up to the plate.”
“So am I.” Russ wasn’t sure how his daughter would feel about a party that might not involve her new friends. But then, he and Rachel could throw a separate bash in Villazon.
Except that Rachel may be gone by then. The prospect left Russ with a hollow sensation.
They rejoined the women, only to discover that Lauren’s mood had further deteriorated. She was clinging to Rachel and avoiding Lois’s gaze. “She’s not my grandmother! I miss Grandma!”
Rachel’s soothing words had no effect. “I’m not sure what set her off,” she told Russ and Max.
“I merely suggested she spend next weekend with us.” Lois folded her arms. “There are so many fun things we could do.”
“I won’t!” Lauren screamed.
“It’s too soon,” her husband advised.
Russ knelt near his daughter, who transferred to him willingly. “No one will force you to do anything,” he assured her. “We’re going home now. Why don’t you give your grandparents a hug?”
“No!” the little girl protested.
“Why not?” He wished he had Mike’s insight into child psychology, because he suspected something besides being tired was troubling her.
“Their…their faces.” His daughter struggled to explain. “I miss my grandma and grandpa!”
Rachel crouched beside the two of them. “After I lost my mother, I got upset when my mental image of her began to fade. Mom and Dad Byers found a photograph for me to keep by my bed, so I didn’t lose what little I had left.”
More grateful for the insight than he could express, he thanked her. Lauren’s inner picture of the Holts might well be weakening, and the introduction of two new grandparents must be adding to the confusion.
“Sweetheart, this evening we’ll go through your scrap-book. Right now, let’s take a photo of you with your new grandparents to add to the collection.” He was glad for the reminder, since he’d meant to take a picture anyway. “Then you can see all four grandparents and you won’t get them confused.”
“Okay.” Her grip on him eased.
“I’ll fetch my camera, too.” His mother hurried out.
Soon they there were all positioned on the couch, with Rachel operating each camera in turn. Her tantrum forgotten, Lauren sat on Lois’s lap between Russ and his father through flash after flash.
“Now I’ll take a few.” Max claimed the cameras. “I want shots of my future daughter-in-law, so no arguments.”
Russ tried to avoid thinking about the deception he was practicing. Although, he suspected his dad would understand if he told him.
At last they said their goodbyes, and Russ shepherded Lauren and Rachel to the car. The rain had stopped but darkness was falling. In the rear, his daughter drooped in her booster seat, cushioned by a pillow and comforted by a blanket Rachel had brought.
Once they’d cleared the canyon roads and were sailing along the freeway, he said, “Your bravery was above and beyond the call of duty, Rache.”
She adjusted her beret. “How so?”
“My mom can be tough.” He slowed the car to make the transition onto another freeway. “Dealing with her wasn’t part of our bargain.”
“She feels threatened. I can relate to that. Son falling for a woman way outside her social circle, and this same hussy making inroads with her grandchild.” Rachel sighed. “Hey, our breakup ought to thrill her, right?”
Russ didn’t answer, because he was starting to realize how much he dreaded Rachel’s departure. He didn’t know what he was going to do about that.
Perhaps for once he should stop trying to nail down the future and simply let life carry him.
DESPITE RUSS’S supportive behavior, the visit had made Rachel painfully aware of how out of place she was in his family. For heaven’s sake, she’d misspoken repeatedly, even insulting his mother’s refreshments with a crudeness that had no place outside one of Hale’s parties.
Although not given to introspection, she kept mentally kicking herself. Fortunately, nobody else seemed concerned. Lauren awoke hungry, and they stopped at a fast-food place for a bite, where the little girl insisted on taking her teddy bear and Officer Bud inside as if afraid someone would snatch them again. She left Jasmine in the car.
Rachel was grateful for her ability to grasp the child’s feelings. Lois had tried hard to get close, yet at every turn, the instinct to take control had driven a wedge between her and her granddaughter. Luckily, they had years to sort matters out.
By then Rachel would be little more than a memory. Despite her deep affection for Lauren, she harbored no illusions about a lasting bond. Lauren, as Russ’s daughter, belonged in the McKenzies’ upper-crust milieu, and Rachel did not.
On the rest of the drive home, her heart ached as she thought about father and daughter. She longed to stick around, no matter how unsuited she and Russ might be. After all, they were engaged. They hadn’t entirely ruled out the possibility of—
Stop right there.
Nothing would scare a guy away faster than clinging, as she’d learned during her teen years. Besides, beyond this temporary situatio
n in which they shared a common goal, she and Russ were largely incompatible. Hadn’t today demonstrated that?
Rachel knew she should enjoy this phase of her life and then move on. So why did their pending breakup loom like an old masonry wall, poised to topple onto her head?
At home, Rachel and Lauren found undergarments for her new doll while Russ downloaded the photos into his computer, printed out the best shots and added them to the album the Holt grandparents had maintained. In the living room, the three of them sat on the front sofa in a circle of light, flipping back through the scrapbook.
“There you are as a baby. Wow, where’d you get so much hair?” he teased his daughter. “Here’s Janine at your first birthday party. And both your grandparents.”
The little girl paged through, eagerly drinking in the scenes. Rachel wished someone had kept a book like this for her, at least of the period after her adoption. Mom and Dad Byers had assembled a few photos in a binder, but the influx of short- and long-term foster children had made anything more elaborate impractical. As for her earliest years, those images would stir nothing but regret.
Lauren fingered a shot of Russ and Janine in a casual pose, looking very young and not particularly affectionate. “Why aren’t there pictures of you and me, Daddy?”
He studied the image as if he’d never seen it before. Perhaps he hadn’t. “Because I missed your first five years.”
“Why?”
“Your grandparents…” He paused, then restarted. Being careful not to lay blame, Rachel assessed. “Since I didn’t have enough money to raise you, we all agreed you were better off with Grandma and Grandpa Holt. They felt it was best for me to stay away.”
“Didn’t you want to see me?” She hugged Officer Bud.
“Yes. You were on my mind a lot.” Russ shut the album. “In fact, I’d like to show you a special scrapbook, okay?”
She agreed. Rachel presumed he meant a record of his own past, but when he returned, he bore a photo album of children she’d never seen before.
“These aren’t pictures of you, sweetheart.” He’d resumed his place on the couch with Lauren in the middle. “They’re babies and children who were my patients. But I took special notice of the ones about your age to help me understand what you might be like.”
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