Growing thoughtful, Stephanie lifted a toe to pop a bubble. “I may be wrong—God knows I don’t have any experience with children—but I don’t think she’s really a bad kid. She certainly doesn’t look the part. She has really long white-blond hair and the biggest eyes. She looks…well, almost angelic.”
Remembering the belligerent expression on her face when Wade had first dropped her off, she added, “But she has the potential to turn bad. I got a peek of a darker side when Wade first dropped her off. Angry. Hostile. Rebellious. If he doesn’t get her in hand fairly soon, I would think she could easily turn into a huge problem for him.”
“Bet you five he’s suffering from the Guilty Parent Syndrome.”
Stephanie choked out a laugh. “The what?”
“Guilty Parent Syndrome. You see it all the time in divorce cases. Wade’s the one who asked for the divorce, right?”
“That was the talk around town.”
“Right. So he’s taking heat from the daughter because she blames him for making her mother leave. He feels sorry for the kid, so he goes easy on her, trying to make it up to her. If the kid’s smart—and it sounds like she is—she picks up on his guilt and plays him like a piano, and the cycle continues until—bingo!—the kid is a holy terror and totally out of control.”
Shaking her head, Stephanie slid farther down into the bubbles. “You need to quit working for me and hang out a shingle. You’d make an excellent psychologist.”
“Comes from all the years I spent in therapy.”
Stephanie frowned. “Your mother should have been the one in therapy, not you.”
“Try telling her that.”
Stephanie shuddered at the thought of having any conversation with Kiki’s neurotic mother. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
“What about the kid’s mother? Wade’s ex? Did the kid say anything about her?”
“Nothing specific, though she did ask if I knew her.”
Kiki whistled softly. “Man, this just gets crazier and crazier. Like a soap opera.”
“Tell me about it,” Stephanie muttered drily. “The ex is at his house right now.”
“Why? Is it her weekend to have the kid or something?”
“How would I know?” Stephanie snapped. “I just know she’s there.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
“Why would I be jealous? They’re divorced.”
“Which doesn’t mean squat. He might be through with her, but that doesn’t mean she’s through with him.”
Since that was the exact thought that Stephanie had hoped to escape by taking a bubble bath, she remained silent, refusing to discuss it.
“Steph?”
“Yes?” she said tersely.
“Just wanted to make sure you were still there.”
“I am.”
“And obviously don’t want to talk about his ex,” Kiki deducted, then sighed her disappointment. “Okay, so tell me what you think about the kid after spending the morning with her.”
“She’s your average twelve-year-old,” Stephanie replied, then amended, “except for the ugly rebellious streak.”
“So you liked her?”
Stephanie considered the question for a moment and was surprised to find that she did like Meghan. “She’s okay,” she replied vaguely. “And obviously crazy about her mother.”
“Which would make you the ugly stepmother if you and Wade should work things out.”
Stephanie scowled, not having to stretch very far to imagine the kind of problems that could create for her and Wade. “Thanks, Kiki. I really appreciate you bringing that to my attention.”
“Sorry,” Kiki mumbled, then brightened. “But look at it this way. The kid won’t be around forever. She’s twelve, so she should be leaving the nest in another five or six years. Then you and Wade would be alone.”
If their relationship lasted that long, Stephanie thought sadly. Sharing a house with another woman’s child and a bed with that child’s father had the potential to destroy even the strongest of relationships.
Giving herself a shake, she said to Kiki, “There’s no sense in worrying about that. Wade and I aren’t married. We’re just…friends.”
“Steph?”
Stephanie jumped at the sound of Wade’s voice, almost dropping the phone in the water. “In here,” she called, then brought the phone back to her ear and whispered frantically to Kiki, “I’ve got to go. Wade’s here.”
“Friends, huh?” Kiki snorted a laugh. “I’d say you’re more than friends, since you just invited him into the bathroom while you’re in the tub.”
“Goodbye, Kiki,” Stephanie said firmly, then disconnected the phone.
Just as Stephanie leaned to lay the phone on the commode seat, Wade stepped into the bathroom. He stood there a moment, staring, then started toward the tub, unbuttoning his shirt.
Stephanie sputtered a nervous laugh. “What are you doing?”
His gaze on hers, he flipped back his belt buckle and pulled down the zipper on his jeans. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
She watched as he hooked the toe of one boot behind the heel of the other and pried it off, then lifted her gaze to his. “Stripping?” she asked meekly.
He pushed his jeans down his hips, kicked them aside. “No.” He gave her a nudge and slipped into the tub behind her. “I’m bathing.”
“But where’s Meghan?”
He slid his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to the curve of her neck. “At home.”
Since he’d claimed he didn’t trust Meghan to stay alone, she had to assume her mother was there with her. Although she didn’t find that thought at all comforting, Wade was with her, which had to say something about his preferences. She angled her head, giving him better access to her neck. “How long can you stay?”
He dragged his lips down to her shoulder. Nipped. “As long as it takes.”
She closed her eyes, stifling a groan. “As long as what takes?” she asked breathlessly.
He turned her around to face him and sent water splashing over the edge. His blue eyes, dark with passion, burned through hers as he drew her legs around his waist. “To satisfy this hunger I have for you.”
Water lapped against her body, adding to the sensations created by his erection nudging her belly. Looping her arms around his neck, she smiled as she lowered her face to his. “That might take a while.”
“Yeah.” He released a sigh against her lips. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
Later, snuggled against Wade in her bed, Stephanie found herself thinking about something Meghan had said to her that morning. “Wade?” she said hesitantly.
More asleep than awake, he hummed a lazy response.
“Meghan said something this morning that concerns me.”
He groaned and buried his face between her breasts. “Please tell me she wasn’t rude.”
Biting back a smile at the dread she heard in his voice, she ran her fingers through his hair to reassure him. “No, though I have to admit, when you first dropped her off, she was sporting a pretty tough attitude.”
Sighing, he drew his head back and placed it on the pillow opposite hers. “She’s always sporting an attitude. That’s nothing new.”
“This has nothing to do with her attitude. It’s something she said.”
“What?”
“We were talking about cursing, and I told her that when I said a curse word, my mother would wash my mouth out with soap.”
He smiled softly, as if at a fond memory. “My mom did that, too.”
“Meghan said that when she says a bad word, you don’t punish her.”
“I damn sure do,” he said defensively, then waved away Stephanie’s concern. “She was pulling your leg, blowing hot air.”
“I don’t think so.” Stephanie knew she was taking a chance on alienating Wade by discussing his daughter with him, but Meghan’s comment concerned her enough that she felt she should speak her mind. “She said yo
u only give her a mean look and tell her to watch her mouth.”
His brows drew together. “So? That’s the same as telling her I don’t approve of that kind of talk.”
Stephanie laid a hand against his chest, hoping to take the sting out of what she was about to say. “Maybe you need to be a little more firm. Let her know that in the future there will be specific consequences for bad behavior.”
“And you think washing her mouth out with soap is going to keep her from cussing?” He snorted a breath. “Sure as hell didn’t break me.”
She pursed her lips. “Obviously not. The point is, Meghan doesn’t seem to think there are any consequences for her actions. A mean look from you isn’t enough of a deterrent. You need to be firmer with her. Establish rules and set specific punishments to be implemented when she breaks them.”
He lifted a brow. “Oh? And how many children have you raised?”
For a moment Stephanie could only stare, his careless remark cutting deeply. “I haven’t,” she said and rolled away, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I was only offering an opinion after spending some time with your daughter.”
He caught her arm, stopping her before she could stand. “Hey,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
When she kept her face averted, refusing to look at him, he tugged her down to lie beside him again. “I’m sorry, Steph.” He laid a hand on her cheek. “You’re probably right. Maybe I am too easy on Meghan. But sometimes I just flat don’t know what to do with her. You have no idea what kind of crap kids are getting into these days. Body piercings and tattoos, not to mention sex and drugs. She’s twelve going on twenty-two. I try to keep a tight rein on her, hoping to keep her out of trouble. But she kicks and screams about how strict I am and threatens to run away and live with her mother. I’m afraid if I come down on her too hard, she will.”
“Maybe she should live with her mother.”
By the look on Wade’s face, Stephanie knew she’d said the wrong thing.
“Wade,” she said and reached for him, wanting to explain.
He shoved her hand aside and rolled from the bed and to his feet to face her. “You think her mother would do a better job of raising her?” he asked angrily. Without waiting for an answer, he strode to the bathroom, scooped up his clothes and returned, jerking on his jeans. “Well, let me tell you something Dr. Know-It-All,” he said, pointing a stiff finger at her face. “On my worst day I’m a better parent than Angela will ever be. I fought for custody of Meghan for that very reason and won. Angela’s nothing but a—” He clamped his lips together and spun for the door, pulling on his shirt.
Stephanie bolted from the bed and grabbed a robe, shrugging it on as she ran after him.
“Wade, wait!”
He didn’t even slow down.
She caught up with him at the front door and grabbed his arm. When he tried to jerk free, she tightened her grip. “No,” she said, her anger rising to match his. “You’re not leaving until I have a chance to explain. I wasn’t suggesting that you are a bad parent. Meghan’s a girl, Wade, and a young girl needs her mother. If she were a boy, maybe it would be different. But she’s not a boy. She’s a girl and she’s at an age where she needs to talk about things that she may not feel comfortable talking about with you. That’s why I said what I did. I was simply suggesting that maybe she needs a mother right now more than she does a father. I wasn’t suggesting that her mother is a better parent than you. How could I? I don’t even know the woman.”
He grabbed her arms, making her blink in surprise. “No, you don’t know her. If you did, you’d understand why I’ve fought so hard to keep Meghan away from her. Why I insist that a court-appointed guardian be present at all times when she visits Meghan. Angela is a drug addict, a whore who’ll sell herself to any man who’ll give her another fix.”
He dropped his hands from her arms and took a step back, suddenly looking tired, beaten. “Do you know how I know that, Steph?” he asked quietly. “I know because I was once one of those men.”
Seven
Stephanie walked around in a daze the next morning, still numbed by Wade’s confession. She couldn’t believe he’d ever been the kind of man he’d described. Sure, when they’d first started dating, he’d told her a little about his life prior to his move to the ranch next to her parents. How he’d gone a little crazy after his parents’ deaths and done some things he wasn’t proud of. But Wade involved in drugs? Associating with a woman like the one he described Angela to be? She couldn’t believe it. He was so straight, so good.
Frustrated by her inability to come to grips with the man he’d described to her, she moved to the front window and looked out. What difference does it make if he had done those things? she asked herself. He wasn’t the same person he was back then. That was all in the past. He’d changed, made a fresh start. He was a good person, kind. Hadn’t he looked out for Bud after her mother had died? Hadn’t he comforted Stephanie when he’d found her crying over her father’s letters? Hadn’t he fought for custody of his daughter, wanting to protect her from the environment in which her mother lived? A man who did those things wasn’t a bad person. He was good and kind.
She should’ve told him that, she realized with a suddenness that clutched at her chest. She shouldn’t have let him walk out of her house without telling him that his past didn’t matter. That he was a wonderful man, kind and generous, and that she loved him with all her heart.
She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was past noon, the time that Wade usually dropped off a bundle of letters for her to read. Praying that nothing had happened at home that would have prevented him from leaving, she hurried to the front door, wanting to make sure he hadn’t gone on to the barn and pastures without stopping first.
Two steps onto the porch her left foot connected with something hard, making her stumble. Catching herself from falling, she glanced down to see what she’d tripped over and found a box sitting on the porch. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment when she recognized it as the one Wade had used the night he’d carried away the bundles of her father’s letters.
She stooped to pick it up, wondering why he’d left it for her to find rather than bringing it inside. And why would he drop off the entire box instead of the usual single bundle?
She gulped, afraid she already knew the answer. She’d let him leave the night before without telling him that his past didn’t matter to her, without assuring him of her love. She’d even suggested he allow his daughter to live with his ex, told him that she couldn’t consider marrying him because she couldn’t bear the thought of living with the child who would serve as a daily reminder of the choice Wade had made and all the hurt she’d suffered at his hand.
She’d let him down. When he’d needed her most, she had denied him her love, her understanding, and instead chose to batter him with the resentment she had hoarded through the years, the bitterness she had clung to.
Her heart heavy, her eyes filled with tears of regret, she gathered the box close and went back inside.
Janine,
I don’t know how I survived the year I spent in Vietnam before I met you. Your letters are what keep me going, what help me deal with the tragedy and death I see every day.
I’ve just about worn out the pictures of you I brought with me. I can’t tell you the number of times a day I pull them out just to look at them, to remind myself that there is a world beyond the hell I’m living in right now, one where there is normalcy, laughter and love.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember what it’s like back home. To sleep without being afraid someone is going to slip up on you in the night and slit your throat. To walk without fear of stepping on a mine or a booby trap. To be able to eat food other than C-rations. To wear clothes that aren’t all but rotting off my body.
I don’t understand this war. Why people would want to kill each other. Surely there’s a better way to resolve differences, to make peace between
nations and keep it. The loss of lives—on both sides—is unimaginable, and that’s without considering the lives of the people that are destroyed or changed forever by the loss of their loved ones.
A couple of guys I knew back home went to Canada to avoid the draft. At the time I remember thinking they were cowards for choosing to leave their country rather than fight for it. Now I’m not so sure. I still don’t believe I ever would’ve run, even knowing what I know now. But I don’t feel the same about the guys who did choose to run. I don’t consider them cowards anymore. Doing what they did took courage. Granted, it was a different kind of courage than the one required to stand and fight. But it took guts to do what they did. Leaving your home and family behind and knowing that you may never see them again…well, that takes a certain kind of courage, too. In some ways, it’s the same sacrifice or chance a soldier makes when he puts on a uniform and goes to war.
Unable to read any more, Stephanie let the letter drop to her lap and stared out the window at the darkness beyond the house. Her father had only been twenty-one when he’d written the letter, yet there was a wisdom in his words, a wealth of experience which exceeded that of most men his age. Women, too, she thought. At twenty-one she’d been in her third year of college and living in an apartment in Dallas, near the campus of Southern Methodist University, and without a care in the world. Her education was paid for by her parents, who covered her living expenses, as well, which allowed her to focus on her studies without worrying about supporting herself. The only fear she had faced was making good grades in the courses she was enrolled in, and the only tragedy she’d suffered was when Wade had broken their engagement.
The latter had been devastating and it had taken weeks, months even, for her to drag herself from the depression that losing him had plunged her into. But she hadn’t resurfaced fully healed or unscathed from the occurrence. From the darkness she’d brought with her her resentment toward Wade, and used it like a talisman to keep herself from ever being hurt again.
A Piece of Texas Trilogy Page 11