She then hurried through the grocery store, gathering what she needed to make Mack a home-cooked meal that night, having decided to not wait until after school and the added presence of the girls and their opinions about what should be served to Uncle Mack.
Her final errand was to tape a note on the front door of the house where the teenage girl, Becky, lived down the block, the message asking if she was free to baby-sit the twins on Friday night.
Back home Heather put away the groceries, made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, poured a glass of milk, and settled in front of the computer, eating the simple lunch while she resumed working.
And through it all, she thought about Mack Marshall.
“Concentrate, Ms. Marshall,” she said, frowning. “The IRS does not take kindly to errors, nor do your clients, so get it together.”
She glanced quickly at the clock on the nightstand next to the bed.
She had so much work to do, she thought, and she wanted to wash her hair before Mack arrived for his home-cooked meal. She’d wear her hair falling free, not twist it into a braid, because Mack liked it that way, had said her hair was beautiful and—
“Aaak!” she yelled. “I’m over the edge. I’m losing my mind!”
She took a big bite of the gooey sandwich, narrowed her eyes and forced herself to study the numbers on the screen of the computer.
Just before five o’clock that evening Heather stood with a daughter on each side of her, the trio nodding in satisfaction as they scrutinized the kitchen table.
The girls had drawn pictures of bright flowers on construction paper to use as place mats and the crystal vase Mack had given Heather was in the center of the table, holding the few remaining flowers that hadn’t wilted. Paper napkins had been folded into triangles, and plates, glasses and silverware were in place.
“I think the table looks lovely,” Heather said. “Don’t you?”
“It’s very pretty,” Emma said.
“Yep,” Melissa said.
“If the place mats don’t get soiled during dinner,” Heather said, looking down at one daughter, then the other, “we can use them again for a farewell dinner when Uncle Mack leaves. Or you could make new ones for that event if you want to.”
Melissa frowned. “Uncle Mack never talks about going away.”
“Well,” Heather said, “that’s because we all know he’s only here for a short while, so there’s nothing more to say on the subject.”
“Yes, there is,” Emma said, folding her arms over her chest. “We can say we don’t want Uncle Mack to leave, Mommy.”
A knock at the front door saved Heather from having to respond to Emma’s statement and Heather looked heavenward in gratitude. The twins ran to answer the door and Heather swept her gaze over the table one last time.
“That’s as good as it gets,” she said, shrugging. “It’s the thought that counts.”
And the endless thoughts of Mack that had consumed her mind the entire day, she mused as she walked slowly into the living room, what did they count for? What did they mean? Well, this certainly wasn’t the time to attempt to figure it out.
“Hello, Mack.” Heather smiled, then frowned in the next instant as she saw that the girls were each holding a brightly wrapped gift. “More presents?”
“For my hostesses,” Mack said, extending a foil-covered box toward Heather. “Sweets for the sweet. How’s that for corny?”
“Thank you,” Heather said. “It was very thoughtful of you, but certainly not necessary. I wish you hadn’t given the girls more—”
“Wow,” Melissa said. “Look at this. A new baseball. A brand-new baseball. Thank you bunches, Uncle Mack. I can hardly wait to show Buzzy.”
“Clothes for my Barbie doll?” Emma said, jumping up and down. “Oh…oh…oh, a wedding dress with a veil and a pair of shorts and a top and…oh, oh, thank you, thank you, Uncle Mack.”
“You’re most welcome,” Mack said, smiling. “I hope you like chocolates, Heather.”
“Mommy loves chocolates,” Emma said. “One time she was baking us chocolate-chip cookies while we were at school, and she ate all the chocolate chips before she baked the cookies, and we had chocolate chip cookies with no chocolate chips, which was pretty weird, but they really didn’t taste so bad, I guess.”
“Thank you for sharing my deep dark secret, Emma,” Heather said dryly.
Mack laughed. “Well, it sounds like I picked the right hostess gift for you, Heather.” He took a deep breath. “Ah, something smells delicious.”
“Chicken,” Melissa said. “It’s chicken that we covered in corn flakes. I got to whop the corn flakes in a bag until they were all crumbs and dusty stuff.”
“I’m sure you’re a terrific corn flake whopper, Melissa,” Mack said. “Top of the line.”
“There wasn’t a line,” Melissa said, cocking her head to one side. “There was just me. The corn flakes were my job and Emma gave the potatoes a bath.”
Heather laughed. “The descriptions of the preparation of this meal are lacking something. I suggest we eat dinner before it loses its appeal. Off we go to the kitchen, troops.”
The girls placed their gifts on the sofa, then ran toward the kitchen. Heather set the box of candy on the coffee table, then straightened and looked at Mack.
“Mack,” she said quietly, “please stop bringing the twins presents every time you come.”
“Why?” he said, frowning. “It’s a classic win-win situation. I get a great deal of pleasure out of it and so do they.”
“I realize that,” Heather said, “but think about this. Do you want them to be glad to see you, their Uncle Mack, because they like to be with you, enjoy your company? Or do you want them to anticipate your arrival because it means they’ll receive a materialistic reward? I, personally, prefer to be liked for me, the person, not for what I might have bought for someone.”
“Emma and Melissa aren’t that shallow,” Mack said, his voice rising slightly.
“Emma and Melissa are normal little six-year-old girls,” Heather said. “If you keep this up, you’re going to hear ‘What did you bring me?’ instead of ‘I’m so glad to see you.’ I don’t want that to happen.”
Mack nodded slowly.
“When you leave Tucson,” Heather went on, “I want them to remember you as their special Uncle Mack, not as that neat guy who gave them tons of goodies. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I do. I’d like to compromise on this if we could. I’ll ask you ahead of time before I buy them anything else. Does that sound feasible?”
“Yes, and thank you,” Heather said, smiling. “Now then, are you ready for chicken covered in dusty corn flakes and baked potatoes that had a bath?”
“Sure.” Mack paused. “Heather?”
“Yes?”
“How will you remember me when I leave Tucson?” Mack said, looking directly into her eyes.
As the man who made her feel incredibly feminine and alive, Heather thought, aware that her heart had increased its tempo. As the man who made her feel beautiful and special, cherished. As the man who caused desire like nothing she had ever known to sing throughout her body when he held and kissed her and—
“Mommy!” Melissa yelled from the kitchen.
Heather blinked, bringing her back from the hazy, sensuous place to which she had floated.
“I’ll remember you as the man,” she said, hearing the breathy quality of her voice, “who ate burned chicken at our table if we don’t get into the kitchen.”
Heather spun around and hurried across the room.
“We’ll continue this discussion at a more appropriate time,” Mack said, following her.
“No, we won’t,” Heather said, then shivered slightly as her response was answered with a very male, very rumbly chuckle.
The meal was placed on the table, grace was said, then lively chatter accompanied the consuming of the hot, delicious food. The menu was baked chicken coated in corn flake du
st, potatoes baked after their bath and now slathered with butter and sour cream, corn, a tossed salad and chocolate brownies for dessert. Halfway through dinner a knock sounded at the front door.
“I’ll get it,” Heather said.
She hurried to the door and opened it to find Becky, who was holding the note Heather had taped to the front door of the teenager’s house.
“Hi, Mrs. Marshall,” Becky said. “I got your note about sitting for the twins on Friday night? But I have to, like, take care of my baby brother because my parents are going out, which is really a bummer because my folks don’t even pay me? You know?
“So, I talked to my mom and, like, said it wasn’t fair and all? And she said why didn’t Emma and Melissa sleep over at our house on Friday? I could make puffy beds on the floor with blankets and stuff? Then I could get paid for taking care of the twins because I’m really broke?”
“Cool!” Melissa hollered from the kitchen. “Can we, Mom? That would be fun, Becky. You make awesome popcorn with lots of butter.”
“Well…” Heather said.
“Please, Mom?” Emma yelled. “Then you could go out to dinner with Uncle Mack and wear your princess dress. But I like the popcorn you make with the cheese on it the best, Becky.”
“The vote is in, Mom,” Mack called. “Say yes.”
Heather laughed. “Okay, okay, I give up.”
“Majorly super,” Becky said. “What time should I come collect the twins?”
“Seven o’clock,” Mack yelled.
“Got it,” Becky said. “Just, like, thanks a million. ’Bye.”
“Goodbye, Becky.” Heather closed the door, returned to the table and laughed as she sat down and spread her napkin on her lap. “Did you ever notice how a lot of teenagers end statements as though they were questions, Mack? You have to pay very careful attention to what they are saying so you know which ones you’re really supposed to answer.”
Mack stared into space. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a conversation with a teenager. Not that I recall, anyway.” He looked at Heather. “But I did notice what you’re talking about as I listened to Becky. Fascinating. I wonder why they do that?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Heather smiled. “My, my, aren’t we subjecting you to all kinds of new experiences while you’re visiting us?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Mack said, gazing at her intently. “You certainly are doing exactly that, Ms. Marshall, and some of those new experiences are etched indelibly in my mind.”
A sliver of heat traveled down Heather’s back, then swirled around to settle low in her body as she met Mack’s mesmerizing gaze. She forced herself to shift her attention to the girls and told Melissa to drink her milk.
“I already finished my milk,” Melissa said, obviously confused by her mother’s directive.
“Oh, so you did,” Heather said, then cleared her throat. “Silly me. Emma, drink your milk.”
“Are you all right, Heather?” Mack said, an expression of pure innocence on his face. “You seem a bit…I don’t know…flustered.”
Heather glared at Mack. “You’re not cute, Mr. Marshall. Not even close. Your clever little double-meaning statements are…are not cute.”
“Buzzy’s mom thinks Uncle Mack is cute,” Melissa said. “She told me that. She said Uncle Mack is cute and a hunk of stuff, whatever that means. She saw his picture at the library, and then she looked out her window one time when Uncle Mack came to our house so she could see him really good, and she said she got the vipers.” She shrugged. “Or something like that.”
Mack hooted with laughter.
“The vapors,” Heather said, smiling. “Never mind, Melissa. Susie was just being funny.”
“No, she wasn’t,” Melissa said, “’cause she wasn’t smiling one bit when she told me all that. Buzzy said he wished Uncle Mack was his daddy ’cause we get presents all the time from him and Buzzy’s daddy doesn’t even come to see him anymore since he went to live with that new mother he picked.”
“I see,” Heather said, looking at Mack as she spoke. “Do you girls think the gifts you’ve received are the best part of Uncle Mack visiting us?”
The twins looked at each other for a long moment, then directed their attention to their mother again.
“It’s nice to get presents when it’s not even your birthday,” Emma said, “but…” She glanced at Melissa, who nodded. “But it would be okay if Uncle Mack didn’t bring us any more surprises, because me and Melissa talked about it together and we decided that the bestest thing would be if Uncle Mack was our daddy and could stay with us forever and ever.”
Chapter Eight
Heather and Mack stared at the twins with stunned expressions on their faces. In perfect unison they opened their mouths to reply, then snapped them closed again as neither could think of a response to Emma’s statement, which seemed to hover heavily in the air.
Mack sank back in his chair and cleared his throat.
“Well, um, well, I…” he said, “I’m very…yes, extremely flattered that you girls would like me to be your father. That’s a very nice compliment and I sincerely thank both of you.”
“Will you do it, Uncle Mack?” Melissa said, leaning forward. “Be our daddy and stay with us forever and ever? You could live here with us until we get enough money in our dream piggy to buy our own house. You could sleep in Mommy’s bed with her, because it’s big enough for two people and she’s only one mommy. See? Me and Emma figured everything out just fine.”
Heather plunked one elbow on the table and dropped her forehead into her palm. “Oh, dear heaven,” she said, “I don’t believe this.” She raised her head again and looked at the twins. “Emma, Melissa, I realize that you’ve given this a great deal of thought and have, in your minds, covered all the details but…please, you must listen to me. Uncle Mack is not going to be your daddy. He’s your uncle and that’s the only title he’s going to have in regard to you two. Do you understand, girls? You’ve got to forget this idea of yours because it isn’t going to happen, and you’re just going to end up unhappy and disappointed if you continue to think it might come to be.”
“You’re not being fair,” Melissa yelled. “You and Uncle Mack didn’t even talk it over. It’s not very nice that you don’t want to share your bed with Uncle Mack when you know you have room to sleep with another person. How come you won’t even think about it, Mommy? How come you won’t talk to Uncle Mack about it before just saying no real fast?”
“Melissa, calm down and lower your voice,” Heather said sternly. “We don’t holler in anger at each other in this house, young lady.”
“Sorry,” Melissa mumbled, then folded her arms over her chest and glowered at her plate.
“But Melissa is right, Mom,” Emma said. “You didn’t even talk it over with Uncle Mack.”
“Okay,” Heather said, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. “I’ll do that right now.” She looked at Mack and lifted her chin. “Mack, as you are now aware, the twins have decided that you’d make a dandy daddy. However, as you have explained to us already, you are not the type of man who chooses to have roots, to settle in somewhere forever and ever. So, it is perfectly clear that you can’t be the daddy around here because you won’t even be in Tucson that much longer. Right?” Heather paused. “Mack? Hello? You and I are discussing this issue, remember? Would you please say something so we can get closure to this nonsense?”
“It’s not nonsense,” Melissa said, yelling again. “Sorry I screamed, but it’s not dumb.”
“Mack,” Heather said, looking at him pointedly. “Speak, for Pete’s sake.”
He couldn’t think clearly, Mack thought frantically, let alone say something intelligent. Images were slamming against his mind in a jumbled maze.
He saw himself in an enormous bed with Heather nestled close to his body, their heads resting on the same pillow.
He saw two sleep-tousled, smiling little girls appearing by the edge of the bed, then diving on to
p of it for morning hugs and tickles.
He saw them consuming breakfast, lunch, then dinner, as the four of them sat around this shabby table, love and laughter filling the small house to overflowing.
He saw a family. And he was an important part of it. The father. The husband. Forever and ever.
You’d better listen to me, boy. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you can have roots, a family, a woman to love until the day you die. That’s not who we are. You’re just like me. We have to be free and on the move. You’ll live your life alone. Understand, boy? Alone…alone…alone…
Mack squeezed his temples with his thumb and forefinger as his father’s haunting words hammered at him, causing a sharp pain to throb in his head. He sucked in a shuddering breath, let it out slowly, then flattened his hand on the table top. Heather, Melissa and Emma were all staring at him intently.
“Your mother is right,” he said, his voice slightly raspy. “I just…can’t stay in one place for any length of time. I told you that, remember, girls? I wouldn’t make a good father. I’m just not the man for the job.
“I think maybe I’m becoming a pretty decent uncle, but…” He shrugged. “But that’s it, that’s…that’s all I’ll ever be. Just…just your uncle Mack.” Just Mack Marshall alone…alone…alone… “There. We’ve discussed it. Okay?”
What was wrong with Mack? Heather thought, still staring at him intently. He was obviously shaken, scrambling for the words that should have come so easily. The color had drained from his face and his voice sounded strange and—
Melissa sniffled. “’Kay. I guess.”
“You could make being our daddy your dream, Uncle Mack,” Emma said, her voice trembling. “You know you don’t got a dream yet and…”
“Emma, honey, don’t,” Heather said gently. “You’ve got to accept the truth as it is, and just enjoy Uncle Mack’s company while he’s still here with us. Don’t do this to yourself, sweetheart. There are some things in life that you just can’t change. You and Melissa know that.”
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