Stand-In Mom

by Marie Ferrarella

  “But Junie thought the world began and ended in his shadow, so that’s where she wanted to be.” He looked into the fire, remembering. Blocking the anger the memory stirred. “Roy’s shadow was going out of here, and that was just fine with her. Ever since she’d been a little girl, all she ever talked about was getting on the other side of the northern lights.” Ike turned his eyes toward Marta. “One day, they both just took off together.”

  “There are ways to find people.”

  Ike inclined his head, acknowledging her point but adding one of his own. “If they want to be found.”

  That shouldn’t have anything to do with it, Marta thought in disgust. Juneau was his sister, he was supposed to maintain ties—not write her off as if she hadn’t existed. Or be glad she was gone because she’d been too much trouble.

  Like Marta had been for the mother who had so cavalierly given her up because the child got in the way of having a good time. Marta banked down the thought and the faded memory it aroused.

  Don’t leave me, Mama. Don’t leave me here.

  But the door had slammed anyway, and the social worker had led her away. She’d been five at the time. Five years old when she’d become part of The System.

  Marta’s eyes looked pointedly into his. “Even if they don’t.”

  There was something going on there behind her eyes, Ike thought. Something that bore exploring. But not quite yet. First, he had to gain her confidence. “People are entitled to privacy if they want it. I figured Junie wanted it. If she hadn’t, she would have gotten in contact with me.” Not tried to remain hidden, he added silently.

  “That’s kind of a lazy approach, isn’t it?”

  Well, she didn’t pull her punches, he’d give her that. There was something to be admired about a woman who was so honest. Holding his hand out, palm up, he suddenly closed his fingers as if he was grasping something. “You hold onto a bird too tight, you kill it.” And above all, he wanted June to feel free and happy.

  Marta frowned at the analogy. “There’s such a thing as a happy medium.”

  “Junie didn’t want a happy medium. She wanted something new, exciting. She knows where to find me if she ever needs anything.”

  And it was his fond hope that someday, his sister would choose to contact him one way or another. Even after all this time, he sorely missed her. Missed the bond they’d once shared.

  Spoken like a man who really doesn’t care, Marta thought. If she’d had a sister, she would have done whatever she could to keep her in her life. “Maybe she’s too proud to ask, did you ever think of that?”

  He had, but he couldn’t quite get himself to believe that of Junie. “Pride’s for other people, not for family.” His sister knew he wasn’t the type to rub her nose in a mistake, no matter how great. All he wanted was her happiness.

  Ike wondered if she’d found it with Roy.

  Marta shrugged, looking away. Family. The single word still shimmered like a mystery, the solution just out of reach. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  Ike knew a little about her. About the foster homes. Sydney had told him. “There’s family and then there’s family.”

  She slanted a look at him. “Meaning?”

  There was something in her eyes, something he doubted she was even aware of, that made him want to gather her into his arms and tell her things were going to be all right—even though he had no idea what those things might be.

  “There’s the family you’re born into, and the one you make for yourself.”

  She wasn’t sure she was following him. “You mean marriage?”

  If that’s what he meant, she thought it a rather strange reference, given what Sydney had told her about Ike. She would have thought the institution of marriage to be so far from his thoughts that he couldn’t reach it by plane.

  Ike acknowledged her response, but he’d been thinking along different lines. “Or just friends. Like you are with Sydney. She said you two were closer than most sisters.”

  The observation made Marta smile. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

  Was it her imagination, or was he sitting closer to her now than he had been a moment before? She glanced down at her own seat and realized that, somehow, she had been the one to move, not him. How had that happened? She pressed her back into the cushions of the sofa, determined to remain exactly where she was and not move an inch closer.

  “And yet you tried to talk her out of coming here.” Watching her, Ike tried to hide his amusement. Did she think he was going to pounce on her?

  “I did.”

  He heard the defensiveness in her voice. Obviously she thought he was going to tell her she was wrong. Though he loved the town he’d been born in, Ike was more than capable of looking at the situation from her point of view. “I would have done the same thing in your place.” He saw the surprise that came into her eyes. He rather liked the fact that he wasn’t living up—or down—to her expectations. “Not an easy thing—pulling up stakes and moving to somewhere you’ve only read about. Takes a lot of guts.”

  Leaning forward, he picked up the framed photograph on the coffee table, studying it for a moment. It was taken the day Sydney and Shayne were married. He remembered that it was a quick, impromptu ceremony. There’d hardly been enough time to find an appropriate dress for Sydney. She made a beautiful bride. And she made Shayne happier than Ike had ever remembered seeing his friend.

  “Hell of a woman, Sydney.”

  He’d get no argument from her on that. Marta dearly loved Sydney. That was why she was surprised that part of her was almost envious of the admiration she heard in Ike’s voice. It was an old feeling, rising up from the past. A feeling that had once made her want to say, “Me, too. Notice me, too.” A feeling she’d carried with her through all the different foster homes she’d lived in over the years. A feeling that she’d harbored as she’d secretly watched the foster mother or father she’d been assigned to talk to their son or daughter.

  Even the nicest of them had spoken differently to her than they had to their own child. She knew that they might not have meant to make a distinction, but she’d always heard it anyway. She was receiving kindness, sympathy, pity, while their own child received love.

  It made all the difference in the world to her.

  Rousing herself, she saw that Ike had set the frame down on the table again and was looking at her.

  “Yes, she is,” she agreed. “One hell of a woman. I could never do that, come out here to live.” She glanced toward the window. There was only darkness outside. No streetlights, nothing. “It’s too lonely.”

  Ike looked at her thoughtfully. “Doesn’t have to be. Loneliness is something a person carries around inside them. You can be lonely in a crowd. Me, I figure there’re more lonely people in places like New York and Los Angeles than there are in Hades. One person’s loneliness is another person’s peacefulness. It’s all in how you see things.”

  When he looked into her eyes like that, she felt he was looking right into her. She shifted. He was hitting a little too close to home. “Are you the town philosopher?”

  He laughed. That honor belonged to Billy Wilcox. He could philosophize the socks right off you, as long as you kept the beers coming.

  “No, the saloon keeper. Comes with the territory, darlin’.” The wicked smile mellowed into something just a tad less unsettling. “Besides, I like helping people with their problems.”

  Marta doubted anyone would be canonizing him anytime soon. “Or creating them. Sydney’s told me all about you.”

  There was pleasure, rather than embarrassment, in his eyes. “You asked. I’m touched.”

  The last thing she wanted was for him to get the wrong idea. She wasn’t about to be fair game for him. “Don’t be. I didn’t. She volunteered.”

  Shifting, he moved just a little closer to her without appearing to move at all. “She couldn’t have told it right.”

  Why was it, when he looked at her, she felt like a skater trying to
make it across a stretch of very thin ice? “Why’s that?”

  His eyes smiled into hers. “Because you’ve decided not to like me.”

  She wished that he’d stop whatever it was he was doing to make her fidget inside. “I don’t intend to have any feelings at all about you.”

  “Everybody’s got feelings about everything that’s around them. That’s how choices get made. You pick the light toast over the dark.” He touched the cup she still clutched in her hands. “Coffee over tea.” His eyes holding hers, he flicked a finger over her arm. “A sweater over a blouse.”

  She felt her breath catch in her throat. The room had suddenly become a great deal warmer than it had been a moment earlier. Warmer and smaller. “Doesn’t mean I’ll sleep with them,” she blurted without thinking.

  His smile seemed to burrow deep within her. “Nobody said anything about sleeping.”

  She realized that she’d blurted the words out without thinking.

  Okay, you’re good, I’ll give you that. Now back off. Marta held herself very stiffly as she looked at him.

  “Sydney said you’ve slept with most of the women in the area.”

  Very slowly, he shook his head. “Those weren’t Sydney’s words.” He looked at her knowingly. “What she probably said is that I’ve made love with most of the women in the area.”

  He admitted it. Not even Alex had done that when she’d confronted him. Didn’t the man have any sense of decency at all? “Same difference.”

  He caught her arm as she began to rise from the sofa. Despite the accusing look in her eyes, Ike left his hand where it was, forcing her to remain seated.

  “Not in my book. There’re a lot of ways to make love, darlin’.”

  Marta gave him a withering look. “Please, spare me.”

  The put-down only made his grin deepen. “I’ll remember you said that. But as to what I was saying, you can make love with a woman by talking, by touching.” He took the cup gently from her hands, noting with satisfaction that her fingers had grown just the slightest bit lax. “By looking.” His eyes caressed her face. “By sharing a thought. Doesn’t have to mean sharing a body. That’s the last part of it. A lovely part, but the rest of it’s just as satisfying in its own way.”

  There seemed to be no room between them at all. How had he managed that? Marta hadn’t seen him move. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said that she was the victim of some sort of hypnosis. And it was his voice, not just his eyes, that were casting a spell. But it was one she was determined not to succumb to.

  Blinking didn’t seem to help.

  “Sometimes even more so. It’s a matter of preference. Me, I love all women. Love the scent of them, the sound of their laughter. Love making them smile, especially when they feel sad.” And this woman, Ike thought, had had a great deal of sadness in her life. He’d have to ask Sydney for answers. But for now, he supposed that made them kindred spirits, in a way. “What makes you smile, darlin’?”

  Marta’s pulse was scrambling like a mouse fleeing a pursuing cat on slippery terrain. Mystified, she saw that her hands had somehow gotten into his. She drew them back abruptly.

  “Hearing my name said instead of a term you can attach indiscriminately because you can’t remember who you’re talking to.”

  Ike knew she probably wouldn’t react well to being told she looked cute when she was angry. But that didn’t change the fact that she did. “I always know who I’m talking to. Most women like being called darlin’.” His eyes shifted to someone behind her. “Don’t you, darlin’?”

  Marta turned, expecting to see Sydney standing there. But instead, it was Sara who was behind her. But only for a moment. The next, the little girl was launching herself into Ike’s arms like a human baseball. He barely had enough time to make the catch.

  “Save me!” she cried dramatically.

  Sydney entered the room half a beat behind her daughter. At the sight of her, sympathy nudged at Ike. Sydney looked beyond tired. It was a good thing Marta had come when she had. Sydney could use the help.

  His arms closed around the pint-size torpedo and he nuzzled her.

  “Save you from what? The big, bad mommy? Sorry, but she might wallop me if I get between you and your bedtime.” Still holding her, he turned Sara around so that she faced him. “Don’t you know that going to bed on time’ll make you grow up to be as beautiful looking as your momma?”

  Sara’s eyes grew wide as she looked at him in genuine wonder and utter disbelief. “It will?”

  His face serious, Ike crossed his heart, then held up his hand as if he were taking a solemn oath.

  “I’d never lie to you, darlin’.” And then the same smile appeared. It was easy to see that the little girl was smitten with him. “You know that.”

  She nodded her head, looking as solemn as he did. “Yes, I do.” Turning, she began to march out of the room.

  “And just where do you think you’re off to?” Sydney called after her.

  “To bed, Mommy.” With that, Sara hurried to the stairs.

  Bemused, Sydney looked at Ike.

  He crossed to her to save her the steps. It was time he was leaving anyway. “She just came down to say she won’t be coming down anymore.”

  “This had better be the last time, Sara,” Sydney told her. Going up and down the stairs was getting to be a real chore for her.

  “Oh, it is,” Sara promised. “I want to be beautiful, like you.”

  Sydney saw no connection. She looked over her shoulder at Ike, knowing he had to have something to do with the mystifying message. He merely winked at her and grinned.

  “I’d better be going. The dinner, as always, was delicious. Anytime you want a new job as a cook at the Salty, just say the word.” He kissed Sydney’s cheek affectionately. “And tell that big lug of yours good-night for me—if he ever gets off the telephone.”

  “It’s Mrs. McGuire on the phone,” Sydney told him.

  The light dawned. “Well, that explains it.” He could see by the confusion on Marta’s face that she had no idea what they were talking about. Apparently Sydney had filled her in on the local color rather selectively. “As a rule, Mrs. McGuire likes to talk people’s ears off. Shayne’s just too polite to hang up on her. She’s got nine kids and there’s usually something wrong with at least one of them.” Taking his parka from the hook, Ike slipped his arms into the sleeves. “Any news about his getting any help out here?”

  Sydney shook her head, sighing. “They’re still trying to find someone to come out, at least a nurse practitioner, if not a doctor. But there’s not exactly a stampede from the newly minted medical community to Hades.”

  “Maybe if you changed the name of the town,” Marta suggested. “It might be a minor thing, but you have to admit the town’s name is pretty off-putting.”

  Ike tucked his scarf into the parka before zipping it up. “Then you’d have to come up with a whole new legend on how the town was named.”

  Marta looked at Sydney quizzically. “There’s a legend?”

  “You do the honors,” Sydney said to Ike. “You tell it so much better than I can.”

  “Old stories become legends after a time,” Ike began. “Hades was settled by a couple of miners who’d come here—part of the rush looking for gold. They’d stayed, trying to get lucky, until they ran out of money and didn’t even have enough to book passage home again, wherever that was.”

  He slipped on his gloves. “So, with no money and no choice, they decided to make a home for themselves right here. One of them was said to remark that the only thing worse than being here was being in Hades, and the other said that this was Hades, just without the heat. Anytime someone else down on his luck came into town and asked where they were, one of the two prospectors would say, ‘In Hades.’ The name stuck after a while.”

  “That’s a good story, Ike.” They all looked up the stairs to see that Sara had gotten no farther than the landing, and was now peering down at them through the
slats. She was looking at Ike hopefully. “Tell me another one.”

  He took the stairs two at a time until he was beside her. Getting down on one knee, he kissed Sara’s cheek, much the way he had her mother’s, then took her by the shoulders and turned her around until she was facing her room.

  “Next time I’m here. That’s a promise, darlin’. Now go get beautiful for me.”

  Covering her mouth with both hands, Sara giggled and ran off.

  He probably got all the women to do his bidding that way, Marta thought. “Charm” was something you had to work to build up an immunity to.

  Sydney watched as he came down the stairs again. “I should have you over for dinner every night.”

  Ready to leave again, Ike laughed. “Don’t have to twist my arm, darlin’, though I think Shayne might have something to say about that after a while. I’ll see you good people later.” His hand on the doorknob, Ike lingered a moment, looking at Marta. “Have you given my showing you around the area any more thought?”

  “No.” Marta had been too busy unpacking and then helping Sydney with dinner to think about it at all. “But like I said, I’m not here to play tourist.”

  “But you do have to play sometime, darlin’. You know what they say, all work and no play—”

  “—leaves a woman intact for another day,” she countered.

  “I do like you, Marta Jensen. I surely do.” Then, just before he pulled open the door, he kissed her cheek quickly. He was gone before she could utter a word of protest.

  It wasn’t until she turned around to face Sydney that Marta realized he’d finally used her name.

  Chapter Five

  The wind sounded a little mournful, Ike mused, thinking of his conversation with Marta as he carefully watched the road. He knew every square inch of the land the way a young lover knew every part of his first love’s body, but on a night like this, it was still easy to take a wrong turn. And end up frozen by morning.