For Mike's Sake

by Janet Dailey

  Her fingertips touched the edge. She wiggled her arm a little farther inside and hooked a fingernail in the inner rim.

  Slowly and carefully she pulled her arm, her hand, and the lid out.

  "Hey, mom! Look who brought the paper!" Mike's excited voice cried.

  Maggie was on her hands and knees, twisting her head to see the door open. "Dad drove in just as I went outside." Mike glanced upward at the tall, dark man who had followed him into the house. "I thought you were going to call first."

  "I was," the familiar, deep-pitched voice answered. "Since you were expecting me anyway, I decided not to bother, so I came over instead." Eyes equally black as his hair looked at Maggie. "Hello, Maggie."

  The room spun crazily for a moment. She was paralyzed, unable to move.

  There was a familiar leap of her pulse as she stared up at him.

  Wade looked achingly the same as when she had first seen him.

  That shaggy black mane of hair, those virile, rugged features, that self-assured carriage, all made an impact on her.

  A cream silk shirt was opened at the throat, hinting at the perfectly toned muscles of his chest and shoulders.

  The long sleeves were rolled up almost to the elbows, a look indolently casual and relaxed.

  A whole assortment of disturbing memories came rushing back.

  Her flesh remembered the evocative caress of those large hands. The warm taste of his mouth was recalled by her lips and the male scent of his body was strong in her memory.

  Her ears could hear the husky love words Wade used to murmur to her.

  The look of him needed no recalling. He was there, standing in her kitchen, his dark eyes glinting with silent mockery.

  There were dirty dishes on the table. Cooking smells were strong in the air, the room smelling of bacon, thanks to the skillet on the stove and the grease splattered over the enameled range top.

  The place was a mess.

  So was she, Maggie realized. There were curlers and hair clips in her hair. She wore no makeup, and the faded and tattered robe did nothing to improve her appearance. She must seem the caricature of a housewife in the morning.

  This wasn't how she had planned it.

  The house was to be spotless, her appearance immaculate. Her new outfit, the two precious hours at the beauty parlor, all to prove how beautiful she still was, had all gone for naught.

  Bitter frustration sparked her highly combustible temper.

  "Damn you, Wade Rafferty!" Maggie pushed herself to her feet, stepping on the hem of her robe and nearly tripping.

  She threw the orange juice lid that she had struggled so hard to reach onto the floor in a fit of pique.

  "You did this on purpose. You deliberately came here without calling just to make me look … Only you could be that rude and inconsiderate! Get out of my house!"

  She was so angry that she was almost choking on her tears.

  During the course of her tirade, the glittering light of mockery left Wade's eyes.

  They became an ominous, brooding black, narrowing into piercing slits. His mouth had hardened into a thin line, bringing a forbidding quality to his harshly masculine features.

  His hand had remained on the back of Mike's neck in a gesture of affection, but Wade, and Maggie, were indifferent to the presence of their son.

  Until he called attention to himself.

  "How could you do it, mom?"

  His wavering voice and stricken look quenched Maggie's fiery temper.

  The damage was already done. Her angry outburst had spoiled Mike's reunion with his father and there wasn't anything she could say to make it right. Her fingers curled into the palms of her hands as she strived to obtain some measure of dignity.

  "I would appreciate it if you would have Michael back home by ten this evening."

  Without allowing Wade an opportunity to respond to her cool statement, Maggie walked from the kitchen, her head held high.

  Her cheeks burned with the knowledge of the farcical picture she made, acting like a lady of the house and looking like a hag.

  The first thing she did, upon reaching her bedroom, was take off her old, comfortable robe and jam it into the small wastebasket in her room. Then she began tugging the curlers and silver clips from her hair and flinging them on her dresser.

  She didn't stop until the door slammed, indicating Wade and Mike had left.

  Then she slumped onto her bed, burying her face in her hands.

  There was bitter disappointment and frustration in her mouth.

  Yesterday she had been positive Wade no longer had the power to incite her to anger. Yet, within five seconds after seeing him she had been screaming at him like a shrew.

  Why, oh, why did he always manage to succeed in making her lose her temper? And in front of Mike, too. Maggie groaned in despair.

  There was only one lesson to be learned from the incident. Things were just as volatile between them as they always had been. From now on she would have to be on her guard.

  In the meantime, she still had the task of facing Mike when he returned tonight.

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  Chapter Three

  THAT EVENING Maggie sat with forced quietness in a living-room chair.

  The house was once again spotlessly clean. Not a single dirty dish was in the sink, nor an ash in the ashtrays. Her makeup was on and there was hardly a hair out of place on her head.

  She was wearing the elegant jersey pantsuit in lavender that she had purchased for the occasion. Except for the tightly clasped hands in her lap, she appeared calm and completely controlled.

  A car pulled into the driveway and she unconsciously held her breath. She heard a car door slam shut, but only one door.

  As the kitchen door opened, the car reversed out of the driveway. Maggie slowly began breathing again.

  "Hello, Mike." Her greeting was determinedly bright as she rose to meet him.

  She glanced pointedly behind him. "Didn't your father come in with you?"

  "No. After the way you yelled at him this morning, did you really think he would?" He didn't quite meet her eyes, but there was no malice in his tone, only the hurt of disappointment.

  "No, I guess I didn't," Maggie admitted. "I baked a cake this afternoon — chocolate with chocolate frosting. Would you like a piece?"

  "No, thanks." Mike wandered into the room and slumped into the twin of the chair Maggie had been sitting in. "I'm not hungry."

  "Did you and yo — Wade have a good time together today? Where did you go?"

  She longed to ask if Wade had made any reference to her waspish outburst, but she doubted that he had. He had always possessed much more control over himself than she had.

  "Yeah, we had fun." His shrug expressed disinterest in being more explicit. "We went down to the harbor and took a ferry to one of the islands."

  "Did your fa — did Wade say how long he'd be staying in Seattle?"

  "No."

  Mike was usually more talkative than this and Maggie knew the reason for his brief responses. She took a deep breath and plunged into an apology. "I'm sorry about this morning, Mike. I really am."

  "How could you do it?" He sounded both puzzled and hurt. "Dad says hello and you start yelling at him. Why? Do you hate him that much?"

  "No, I don't hate him." Maggie denied that suggestion and qualified it in her mind that the violent side of her emotion toward Wade surfaced only at times of supreme anger.

  "I don't know how to explain it to you, Mike. Maybe you'd have to be a girl to understand." She attempted a teasing smile, but he wasn't put off by it. "It's been five years since I saw … Wade."

  "I know, and the minute you see him you start shouting."

  "That's because I had curlers in my hair, no lipstick on, dirty dishes all over the table and I was wearing that horrible old robe. I didn't want him to see me like that. I wanted to be all dressed up with my hair fixed and everything.

  "I was embarrassed and because I was e
mbarrassed I became angry. It doesn't excuse what I did, but I hope you understand why."

  He considered the explanation for a minute, then nodded uncertainly.

  "Yeah, I guess I do."

  "Wade has always had a talent for catching me at my worst. I should have remembered that and been prepared." The milk was spilled and Maggie refused to cry about it.

  "Yeah, well, the next time you see dad —"

  "I'll try to remember. And I'll also apologize." She'd do it for Mike's sake.

  "Dad didn't come over deliberately just to catch you looking tike that," Mike said, defending his father.

  "I know that … now. He was anxious to see you, that's why he came first instead of calling. He misses you just as much as you miss him." Maggie didn't have any doubt about that.

  "Which reminds me, what are you two planning for tomorrow?"

  "Dad's busy all day tomorrow. He said there were some things he had to do."

  "Oh." Maggie frowned. "I thought you'd be spending the day with him, or at least part of it."

  "I'm not. Why?"

  "Aaron called this afternoon and asked me to work tomorrow."

  "But you're on vacation," Mike protested.

  "I know, but Patty's sprained her ankle and can't come in. Since it's only for Monday, I told Aaron I could. I thought you'd be with Wade."

  She did some quick thinking. "I'll call Denny's mother." Shelley Bixby lived next door and kept an eye on Mike while Maggie worked.

  "But what about the game?"

  Maggie started for the telephone and stopped. "What game?"

  "My baseball game tomorrow afternoon. It starts at five and coach wants us to be there no later than four-thirty. You don't get home until after five. If I'm late, I'll probably have to sit on the bench the whole time. I won't even have a chance to play."

  "Don't start thinking the worst. Since I'm supposed to be on vacation, I'll simply tell Aaron that I have to leave by four."

  She picked up the telephone receiver. "It's a pity Denny isn't in Little League. Then Shelley could take you both."

  "You won't forget to tell him, will you, mom? You won't be late coming home?" Mike repeated skeptically.

  Maggie's fingers hovered above the telephone dial. "I won't forget, and I won't be late."

  BUT SHE VERY NEARLY WAS.

  She didn't leave the office until five past four the next day. A traffic light failed to function properly and there was a snarl of cars at the major intersection where she had to turn.

  Five minutes before Mike had to be at the ball park, she turned into the driveway and honked the horn. Mike was waiting on the front doorstep and was halfway to the car before she had stopped it.

  He was wearing his striped baseball player's uniform, complete with the billed cap, socks and shoes. He looked cute, but he would have blushed scarlet if Maggie had told him so.

  Mike shot her an impatient glance as he hopped into the passenger side of the car.

  "You're late."

  "Only a couple of minutes," Maggie hedged, and put the car in reverse when his door was shut.

  "Dad said I should set all our clocks ahead an hour and then you'd be on time."

  She felt a surge of anger at the unrequested suggestion, but squelched it.

  "I haven't been doing too badly."

  Luckily there was little traffic to slow her up. Several other parents were just arriving with their children when she reached the ball park.

  There was a faint smugness to the smile she gave Mike.

  "See? You aren't the last one here." She stopped the car at the curb so he could get out.

  He stood outside by the door. "Aren't you going to watch me play?"

  "You said the game didn't start until five. I'm going home to change my clothes, then come back. This outfit —" Maggie touched the ivory material of her skirt and its matching top "— isn't what I want to wear if I have to sit in those dirty bleachers."

  "Okay. See you later."

  And Mike dashed off to where his team was congregating.

  Maggie smiled wryly as she drove the car away from the curb.

  At least he hadn't cautioned her not to be late. There were times when she wondered who was the parent and who was the child!

  Parking the dark green compact in the driveway, she climbed out of the car and dug into her purse for the house key.

  She unlocked the front door and held it open with her foot as she took the mail out of the box.

  Once inside, she let the door shut on its own and walked into the living room.

  She sifted quickly through the mail as she went, kicking her shoes off and letting her bag slide from her shoulder onto a chair.

  Halfway to her bedroom, the doorbell rang.

  Doing an about-face, Maggie walked back to answer it.

  With a brief glance at her wristwatch, she opened the door and stopped dead.

  It was Wade, and her heart fluttered madly against her ribs.

  She had forgotten how overpowering he could be at close quarters.

  Not because of his height, although he was tall. Her forehead came to the point of his chin and no higher. Nor because of his bulk, since his brawny shoulders and chest were in proportion to his frame. His hands were large and his fingers long, easily capable of spanning her waist.

  No, the sensation was all wrapped up in the sheer force of his presence.

  The years had made few changes, adding character lines to his sun-and snow-browned face. They hadn't blunted the angular thrust of his jaw nor softened his square chin.

  There was a closed look to his Celtic black eyes, although the shutters could he thrown open at any time and they would be alive with expression.

  The background of Alaska suited Wade, a land raw and untamed, demanding a man capable of compromising with the elements.

  It required intelligence, keen insight, and a large measure of self-confidence.

  Yet these were the very traits needed to succeed in a so-called civilized society. Wade could slip in or out of either world at will.

  All these things were assimilated with the lightning swiftness of the mind.

  Then Maggie noticed Wade had cocked his head slightly to one side.

  She realized she had been staring and hadn't spoken a word of greeting.

  The day's mail was still in her hand. She stood in her stockinged feet, her titian hair windblown, her makeup fading. Again Wade had appeared when she was less than her best.

  She managed to curb part of the rush of irritation, but some of it slipped through to make her voice curt.

  "Mike isn't here. He has a Little League ball game tonight."

  "Aren't you going to watch him play? Children like to have their parents there, cheering them on."

  Maggie bristled. "What is this? Are you trying to insinuate that I'm not a good mother to Mike? That I'm somehow neglecting him?"

  "I merely asked a question." Wade elevated a dark brow. "I can't control the way your conscience interprets it."

  "My conscience?" Maggie breathed in sharply at the inference of guilt. "What about yours? I've attended every function Mike has participated in. Can you say the same?"

  "I never said that I could."

  "Before you start throwing stones, you'd better check to see if your windows have shatterproof glass," she warned.

  "I wasn't throwing stones. I asked a question that you still haven't answered."

  "As a matter of fact, I am going to watch him play. I came home to change my clothes first. The game starts at five —" Maggie glanced at her watch, the seconds ticking away "— so I don't have time to argue with you.

  "Instead of being so concerned about me, why don't you fulfill your duty as Mike's father and go to the game? It would be quite a novelty to Mike to have his father there for once."

  "I've been planning to go to the game ever since Mike mentioned it to me yesterday."

  "Then what are you doing here? Oh, of course, you don't know where the game is being played
, do you?" Sarcasm crept into her voice. She stepped onto the threshold to point out the direction, her arm brushing his shoulder.

  "You go down to this next corner and turn —"

  "I know where the ball park is," Wade interrupted.

  "What's the point of coming here, then?" Maggie stepped back, the brief contact jolting through her like the charge of a lightning bolt.

  "If it was just to make sure that I was going, you've wasted your time and mine."

  "I wanted to speak to you privately, although preferably not on the doorstep."

  He pointedly drew attention to the fact that she had not invited him in.

  A different sort of tension raced through her nerve ends. "I can't think of a single thing we need to discuss, in private or otherwise."

  "Mike."

  Wade supplied the subject.

  "Mike?"

  Maggie stiffened. "He's doing just fine. He's healthy and active, as normal as any boy his age. Unless —" her worst fears surfaced "— you intend to sue for custody of him. I'll fight that, Wade. You won't take my son away from me.

  "There isn't anything you could say that would persuade me differently."

  His mouth quirked in a humorless smile.

  "I wouldn't try. That would be like trying to take a cub away from a tigress. You can sheathe your claws, Maggie. I have no intention of trying to get custody of Mike."

  She was confused, and still wary.

  "Then why —"

  "It's in Mike's interest that I want to speak to you. May I come in?"

  He smiled a slow smile that melted most of her resistance despite her better judgment.

  After a moment's hesitation she swung the door open wider and backed away from the opening to admit him.

  With a briskness she was far from feeling she walked into the living room, pausing to pick up her discarded shoes and bag and set the mail on the coffee table.

  She didn't glance at Wade, although all of her senses were aware that he had followed her after closing the door.

  A glance at her watch showed that she was running out of time. "Your discussion is going to have to wait." Maggie wasn't sorry.

  She needed a few minutes alone to collect her wits before engaging in any conversation with Wade. "I have to change my clothes. It won't take long. If you want something to drink while you're waiting there's beer, Coke, and iced tea in the refrigerator and instant coffee in the cupboard. Help yourself."