Temporary Dad

by Laura Marie Altom

  Even Ronnie must’ve been shocked by his uncle’s surprisingly cordial behavior, as he’d quieted to a whimper.

  “Sure,” Annie said.

  Behold…the power of corn.

  He handed her his bag, then got another for himself.

  After listening to a short lecture on how the treat was prepared, they moved on to a diorama of corn-husk dolls and different corn ceremonies performed by Native Americans.

  Pausing in front of the door that led to the World’s Largest Ear of Corn, he said, “After this build-up, I feel there should be a drumroll to mark such a momentous occasion. Here.” He took the camera from her. “Park the stroller in front of the sign and I’ll take your picture.”

  Eyebrows raised, Annie did as he’d asked and said, “So tell me, former Corn Scrooge, how is it that in the past fifteen minutes you’ve gone from corn-hater to corn-believer?”

  “I never said I hated corn. I just don’t like stopping. We’re supposed to be keeping this show on the road. I have to admit, though, this has been educational.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be educational. Aside from calming Ronnie, this was just for fun. I wanted to loosen you up, and—”

  Jed took a deep breath. “Can we please skip this latest attempt to analyze me and just see the corn?”

  “As you wish.”

  He held open the door, but the stroller forced her in at an odd angle, sending her right under Jed’s outstretched arm—right against his chest, into the danger zone of his all-male scent. Luckily, the sight before her was so awe inspiring, Annie just wanted to get a closer look.

  Gripping Jed’s hand in excitement, she said, “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t say I have. Annie, I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not sure why someone would build something like this, but I’m impressed.”

  Towering in the middle of a glass dome—surrounded by a thirty-foot circle of the greenest, most velvety-soft grass Annie had ever seen—stood what undoubtedly was the world’s largest ear of corn in all its yellow glory. The thing was so tall, that in order to see the very top, Annie had to bend her head back so far it hurt.

  Up in the cavernous room’s rafters, barn swallows chirped.

  “Damn,” Jed said, hands braced on his hips. “How do you suppose they made this thing?”

  It just so happened that the husband of the popcorn lady—he’d proudly informed Jed and Annie of this fact—was more than happy to fill them in on every riveting detail of the three-story plaster corncob’s creation.

  At the end of his tale, the man said, “Local legend has it that any couple passing through here must kiss each other under the Corncob Arbor for good luck in the rest of their travels.”

  Jed cleared his throat. “We’re not, um, really a couple. We’re just friends.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the gray-haired man said. “If you don’t kiss the lady, odds are you’ll have a flat within twenty miles of the museum.”

  Annie’s palms were sweaty against the vinyl stroller handle and her pulse all of the sudden wasn’t so steady.

  Would Jed really kiss her just because of some silly superstition?

  Much to her secret shame, she hoped so!

  While Annie scolded herself for even thinking such a thing, the old man eyed a gold pocket watch he’d taken out of the pocket of his faded overalls. “Four forty-five. You two better get on with it. The museum closes in fifteen minutes.”

  He wandered off, and Annie released her breath. “That was close.”

  “What?”

  Playing it cool, she tucked her hair behind her ears. A nervous giggle spilled from her lips. “You know…”

  “No, I really don’t.” He took a step closer.

  “That thing about the kiss,” she said, letting the inquisitive baby squeeze her index finger instead. “Could you believe how that guy was pressuring us? Jeez, the way he was going on, you’d think—”

  And then all thinking stopped when Jed kissed her.

  Soft, exquisitely warm, his lips met Annie’s in a maddening maelstrom of emotion she couldn’t begin to define—didn’t want to define. She just wanted to appreciate it for the pleasant surprise it was.

  When Jed stepped back, a grin playing about the corners of his mouth, she brought trembling fingers to her lips.

  “You heard the man,” he said. “It’s a tradition. What else could I do? You don’t want to spend another three hours at Wal-Mart waiting for our next tire change, do you?”

  “Um…no. Of course not.”

  “Ready to get back on the road?” Jed asked, looking at his now sleeping nephew.

  “Sure. I guess. But…shouldn’t we talk?”

  “Nah.” He dropped his arm across her shoulders in such a way that she wasn’t sure if he meant the gesture as a show of casual affection, intimacy or just plain friendship. Whatever it meant, Annie could scarcely breathe, so aware was she of his presence and the lingering taste of popcorn on her lips. “After all this excitement,” he said, “I’m kind of sleepy,” he said. “Would you mind driving while I catch a few z’s?”

  Chapter Six

  Patti squeezed her eyes shut, praying for strength.

  Howie had suffered an allergic reaction to one of his many medications, but his doctor promised he was improving.

  Unfortunately, her husband’s health was only the start of her problems. She’d tried calling Jed at least twenty times but kept getting his stupid machine or the voice mail on his cell.

  Where was he?

  What had he done with her babies?

  “Oh, Howie,” she whispered, clasping her sleeping husband’s hand. “I wish you’d never taken that job. I wish I’d said let’s sell our big house and the minivan and all my shoes and clothes. I’d be happy living in a tent right now if it meant the five of us could be together.”

  Hot tears sprang to her eyes.

  She didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  What was the point?

  Lately, her cheeks never seemed fully dry.

  She leaned forward, resting her head against the soft white cotton blankets on Howie’s bed. She held his hand to her cheek.

  “Get better, sweetheart. I need you to help me find our babies.”

  ANNIE HAD PLENTY of experience driving vans.

  The day-care van.

  The preschool van.

  So it wasn’t the actual handling of the large vehicle that had her in such a tizzy.

  Glancing at the passenger seat, the cause of her nervous stomach softly snored. How dare he kiss her like that and just fall asleep! Were they ever going to talk?

  All three babies were snoozing, too.

  Looking back at Jed, Annie realized that in spite of her frustration with him, he’d never looked better. At least in the short time she’d known him.

  Even with his long legs folded beneath the dash. Even with his arms crossed and his head cocked at what couldn’t be a comfortable angle, he still had a latent power she found devastatingly attractive. But with sleep had come peace and vulnerability—a trait she got the feeling he’d rather die than show during his waking hours.

  And he’d trusted her enough to let her take the lead on their mission.

  Any number of things could go wrong.

  Another flat.

  Engine trouble.

  Taking the wrong road.

  And yet he’d ignored all these possible disasters when he handed her the keys. Was she making progress in her quest to loosen him up? If so, that was great. But why did she care? It wasn’t as if she’d reap any benefits from the new-and-improved Jed Hale once the trip was over.

  Her lips tingled.

  She turned up the air-conditioning and aimed the nearest vent toward her.

  So what if she was thinking about the kiss?

  And the crazy, wonderful, unexpected glimpse into what it would be like to come home from work every day and step into his open arms…

  Why had he kissed her?
Did he do it because their museum guide had goaded him into it?

  If so, why did Annie feel sad that Jed hadn’t kissed her for another reason?

  An infinitely better reason.

  Like the plain and simple fact that he’d found her impossible not to kiss!

  “I DON’T SUPPOSE you know where we are?” Jed asked Annie, shading his eyes against the bright early-evening sun.

  She finished strapping Pia into the stroller. “We’re at the only two-story cow in the continental U.S. made entirely out of beer cans.”

  He groaned. “Please, God, tell me this isn’t happening. Please tell me there isn’t another beer-can cow somewhere outside the continental U.S.”

  “I wasn’t going to stop,” she said, “but then Pia laid one heck of a smelly egg. Since the place is open twenty-four/seven, according to the billboards I saw, and since it’s got clean restrooms and changing tables, I figured we should stop. Why not stretch our legs and do a diaper change?”

  “Sure,” Jed said. It made complete sense. If you were out of your mind!

  “Well?” she asked. “You coming?”

  He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then climbed out of the van.

  On the way to the giant fenced pen that held the cow, Jed noticed signs boasting live rattlesnakes and scorpions just inside, right along with peanut brittle and taffy.

  “That’s quite a combo, huh?” he said to his smiling companion. “I always enjoy having a good wad of taffy in my mouth when I’m checking out rattlesnakes.”

  Annie tugged at Jed’s hair. “Quit being such a grouch. Can you imagine how long the creator of this cow must’ve worked?”

  “Yeah, and can you imagine how he did it—drunk as a skunk on all that beer?”

  “For that—” she gave his arm a pinch “—you’re going to buy me taffy and peanut brittle. And we’re going to keep to the schedule, so you’re going to look at every single snake, scorpion and beer can in this building in under ten minutes.”

  “WOW,” Annie said as they walked through the cow’s belly. The freshly diapered babies happily gummed teething rings in their stroller. “This is even more impressive than I’d hoped. I never thought we’d be able to walk around inside. The giant corncob people need to step up their exhibit. This is much more fun than looking at it from the outside—even if it does smell like sour yeast.”

  “Yeah.” Jed ran his fingers along the dusty row of cans that served—according to a hand-printed sign—as the cow’s large intestine. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “You were not.”

  “Sure, I was.” He almost succeeded in keeping a straight face. “Especially about improving the corncob. If the corncob people really want to draw in the masses, they should perform weddings in the cob, just like they do here.”

  “They do?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Why Annie Harnesberry, you haven’t been reading all the signs?”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  “Look.” He pointed to another handwritten sign. “It says so right here. For the low, low price of fifty bucks, we can get married by a real live justice of the peace and have a beer toast over white cupcakes and white-chocolate-covered pretzels.”

  “You’re so making that up,” Annie said, nudging him out of the way to get a better look.

  “Puh-leeze. I’m not creative enough to make this stuff up.”

  Annie giggled. She read the sign, and sure enough, he was telling the truth.

  “Does someone owe me an apology?”

  “For what?”

  “For accusing me of lying—right here in the sanctity of the beer-can cow’s belly.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, way,” he said, easing her up against the cow’s ka-thumping heart—which was actually beating, courtesy of a looped sound effect.

  Annie fought for her next breath. Did he have any idea how much trouble this playful side of him caused? She couldn’t think straight. Had she been too hasty in her decision to steer clear of all men?

  “You know,” he said, “there is one way we could remedy this situation.”

  “I, um—” Annie licked her lips “—didn’t know we had a situation.”

  “Oh, yes, we do. It says so right here on this other sign.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one that says it’s bad luck if we don’t kiss in here.”

  “Really?”

  “Hey, I told the truth about the marriage ceremonies, didn’t I?”

  “Y-yes.” Jed’s breath was warm and sweet-smelling from all that taffy and peanut brittle they’d eaten while gawking at the snakes.

  Annie knew kissing him would be a bad idea, but she couldn’t help craving one more taste of his lips. Just one more kiss, and then she promised to stay away.

  No more hair tugging.

  No more pinches.

  No more looking at him—well, maybe that was a little extreme, but—

  Jed took the decision out of her hands by pressing his lips to hers in a decadent display of kissing perfection.

  A contented moan caught in Annie’s throat as she pressed herself against him, craving his touch, his strength. He urged her mouth open and she let him in, deepening their kiss with a thrilling sweep of tongues.

  Pausing for air, Jed touched his forehead to hers. “We’ve got to get back on the road. What are you trying to do to me?”

  “Me?” She laughed. “I was just thinking the same about you.”

  “So what’re we going to do?”

  “That’s a no-brainer. First, we’ll only make rest stops at places that don’t encourage kissing. And second, if crying babies do force us to stop at places like that, we’re forbidden to read the signs or listen to the buttinski guides.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Good.” Annie smiled. “We agree.”

  “Definitely. I’m just going to need one more kiss.”

  “NOPE,” Jed said an hour later at a standard-looking burger joint near Flamingo, Kansas. In a town named Flamingo, it was a wonder no enterprising local businessman in Pecan hadn’t tried to make his fortune from a giant bird made of pink bubblegum wrappers. “We’ll have to go someplace else.”

  “What do you mean someplace else?” Annie said above the roar of all three babies crying. “I realize you’ve been sleeping, but this is the only restaurant I’ve seen in a while. It might not be the cleanest, but…”

  “Then you must not have been looking.”

  Annie turned away.

  Could she have been more wrong about Jed’s rehabilitation?

  “Look how dirty this place is,” he whispered in her ear, giving her chills when his warm breath settled around her. He gestured at an ant-covered scrap of hamburger bun that had fallen onto the muddy footprints at the base of the order counter.

  Dust and a city of cobwebs lived on the silk ivy that decorated the cash register.

  Ew. “Okay, but—”

  “Can I take your order?” a twenty-something pregnant brunette asked above the babies’unanimous howl. She winced. “Dang. I’m glad I’m just having one. Bet you all never get any sleep.”

  Annie smiled politely. “Sometimes it’s rough.”

  “You all know what you want?”

  “Nothing, thank you,” Jed said, taking hold of the stroller. “We’ve gotta get back on the road.”

  “Wait a minute,” Annie said, fishing Pia out of the stroller. “I’ll have a bag of corn chips and a bottled water.”

  “That’s it?” the girl asked.

  Annie nodded.

  Jed scowled before storming outside.

  Meeting him at the van a few minutes later, Annie said, “You didn’t have to be rude. You could’ve ordered something that came prepackaged.”

  “Why?” he asked, taking both boys out of the stroller.

  “Well…because it’s polite.”

  “Right. And it’s polite for whoever owns this joint to run such a messy ship?
And what about when I was being polite back at the last fast-food place by pretending we were married so I wouldn’t hurt those two girls’ feelings? Remember how you were all for me standing my ground?”

  “That’s different,” she said, kissing Pia’s forehead.

  “How?”

  “Well…” Because maybe when other females are attracted to you, I want you to be more vocal in your brush-offs! Okay, so she was wrong. Her actions didn’t make sense, but then, not much did these days. Especially her attraction to him. She cleared her throat. “You’re missing my point.”

  “And what would that be?” he said over the collective crying of the babies.

  She shot him a look. “Give me those two.”

  “I can calm them myself.”

  “Then might I suggest you do it?”

  Annie opened the van’s side door and slipped Pia into her seat. Her diaper was dry, so a bottle made her content.

  She took Ronnie. He had a dirty diaper, which she changed on the passenger seat, then she gave him a bottle, too.

  Richard had a dry diaper and didn’t seem to be hungry, so she held him against her chest, humming one of the songs off of that awful kid’s CD while nuzzling the top of his fuzzy head.

  Jed slammed a pay phone back on its cradle and stalked off to pout beside the only tree within a hundred miles.

  “Now what’s the matter?” she asked, sandals crunching in the gravel parking lot.

  “Nothing.” He crossed his arms.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “Still no messages, and you can’t stand it that I didn’t blindly follow you out of the restaurant?”

  A muscle twitched in his solidly clamped jaw.

  “Bingo.”

  He sighed.

  “Yahtzee.”

  “Stop,” he said. “It’s no secret that I’m usually the one running the show. But contrary to what your shade-tree psychiatrist brain evidently thinks, it’s not because I like it, but because—” he looked sharply away, then said in a voice barely loud enough for her to hear “—that’s the way it’s always been.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be,” she said just as softly, stepping up behind him, curving her fingers around his arm. On the outside, he was steel, but on the inside, Annie suspected he was cream-filling soft. Hurt. What’d made him like that? Was it the death of his parents? Was it a result of Patti’s rebellious teen years? Why did Annie have the uneasy feeling that there was something more? “Look, Jed, I know we’re basically strangers, but in this case, maybe that’s a good thing.”