by Elaine Fox
She laughed and wrote down Gourmet cook.
“And he’d never ask me if I’ve finished the laundry, or why the hell hadn’t I noticed that the car smoked every time I started it up. He’d never stomp downstairs in the morning asking, goddammit, why didn’t I tell him his only good suit was at the cleaners? And he’d never, never, shove his eggs across the table, scattering the silverware and overturning the milk, if the yolks were too runny.”
They both paused. Delaney realized she was holding her breath.
“Delaney?” Michael’s voice sounded far away. “Every romantic fantasy you have doesn’t have to end with your parents’ marriage.”
She exhaled. “Doesn’t it? Okay, so not everyone would become as belligerent as my father. And I wouldn’t be as meek as my mother.”
She ignored Michael’s snort of laughter.
“But isn’t it inevitable that two people trying to spend the rest of their lives together are bound to start taking each other for granted?” she continued. “I think so. That’s why I’ll never get married. And now that I have Emily there’s no need to, thank God.”
The irony of those words hung in the air for a moment before Michael spoke again.
“I don’t think every marriage ends up that way. My parents’ didn’t.”
Delaney thought for a moment. How many times had she wished Michael’s parents had been hers? You couldn’t find more understanding people if you’d tried. When Michael had told them he was gay, for example, his mother had offered to fix him up with her hairdresser.
“Your parents had money,” she said, writing Big bucks on the list. “Maybe a spouse without financial frustration stays happier longer.”
“Well, it would help,” he said. “But your parents are still together. You’ve got to give them that.”
“Yeah, I’ll give them that, even though it’s only because they’re so set in their ways. My father wouldn’t know what to do if my mother left. And my mother’s been cowed by him for so long she’d never believe she could leave.”
They were both silent a minute.
“Well, that’ll never happen to you,” Michael said finally. “You’re too selfish.”
Delaney laughed.
“Besides, why would you ever leave a guy like the one we’re creating? Now tell me some more about him.”
Delaney sketched out a few more details and read him the list. “Majored in PoliSci. Brilliant. I must have a brilliant man. Uh…Owns a house in Arlington, near his parents, who baby-sat a lot. Only child (it’s simpler that way, maybe one brother, if the need arises.) Drives a Volvo. Loves dogs.”
“A Volvo?” Michael’s voice dripped sarcasm. “You can take the girl out of Washington, but you can’t take Washington out of the girl.”
“What do you mean? They’re not unique to Washington.”
“Come on, they are the ultimate yuppie car. And D.C.’s the ultimate yuppie town.”
“They’re safe,” she said. “They’re the safest cars on the road.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And they scream ‘security.’ I could use a little security right now.”
“You think someone’s going to ask you what he drives?”
“They might. Besides, I need to be like an actress preparing for a play. I should know more about my character than anyone’s ever likely to ask.”
“You’re certainly well into that area now. Have you decided if he wears boxers or briefs yet?”
“Neither,” she said dryly.
He laughed. “You going to remember all this?”
She ran down the list with one finger. “This is probably enough for right now. If anyone asks me something that’s not on here, I’ll just write it down on the pad in my purse. I got it just for that purpose. Then I’ll add whatever it is to the list when I get home.”
“And you’ll study this list every night at dinner.”
“That’s right.”
He chuckled. “I know you so well. You always need to be studying something. At least this way you’re exercising your creativity.”
“You don’t think I’m creative?” She scoffed. “Heck, I just created a whole man, right here. Mr. Right. I can picture him in my head this very moment.”
It wasn’t until she’d said that, dropped the pen on the table and leaned smugly back in her chair, that she realized with a start that the handsome, happy dream man she pictured was none other than Jack Shepard.
“Well, good for you,” Michael said. “I hope he keeps you warm at night.”
“At least I’ll know he’s not keeping someone else warm.” She folded up the list to put it in her kitchen drawer.
She needed to make friends with a woman, she thought again. A woman would understand this. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow I’ll ask Kim McQuade to go to lunch.
“Hey,” Michael said before they hung up. “Have you been watching Destiny’s Children?”
“Come on, Michael, you know I don’t have time for soap operas. I’m depending on you to keep me up-to-date.” She smiled thinking of all the times they’d gossiped about the goings-on in the small TV town of Destiny, as if the people and their ridiculous problems were real.
“Well, get a VCR, honey, because Sybill and Drake finally got together,” he said, his tone as salacious as if the fictional people were actual acquaintances.
“No!”
“Yes!”
“But what about Kristin? Is he going to leave his wife? God, after all they went through…”
“Nope. He’s not. And get this, Sybill’s pregnant.”
“Oh brother. I can’t believe they’re going to do that. Isn’t that how they got Drake and Kristin together?”
“Yeah, but I’m serious, you really have to watch it. You, of all people.”
“Why me of all people?” she asked.
“Because Sybill’s not telling either.”
“What?” It took a second before Michael’s point became clear.
“Sybill,” Michael said. “She’s not telling Drake about the baby, either.”
She was a soap opera. That’s what he was saying. Her life was as screwed up and absurd as a stupid soap opera.
Chapter 8
“Not much masculine stuff in here.” Jack’s voice carried in from the living room on a warm summer breeze. He was caulking a window that had leaked during a storm the night before, a storm that had left in its wake a near-perfect Saturday morning.
In the kitchen, Delaney froze. The glass of water she’d just poured was suddenly weightless in her hand as a now-familiar streak of adrenaline raced through her.
“What?” she called back, hearing guilt in her voice. She hated lying. Which was a real inconvenience considering how she’d set herself up to live an enormous one for at least the next three years.
She’d been in the middle of watching five hours—the week’s worth—of taped episodes of Destiny’s Children on her tiny black-and-white TV when Jack showed up to do some work on the house. So she was feeling a little more defensive than usual. Ever since Michael had pointed out the similarity—the small similarity—between Sybill’s situation and her own she’d felt the need to study the show for any possibly noble intentions on Sybill’s part.
“I said there’s not much masculine stuff in this house,” Jack said. His voice and body became large as he strode into the kitchen.
He was smiling at her, his eyes warm, and tools chinked together from the canvas belt at his waist. He seemed to take up three times more space in the kitchen than Delaney did, with his deep voice and tools and muscles.
“Your husband’s not going to feel very at home when he comes.”
Now that she saw his smile she could hear the teasing tone in his voice, and her heart slowed down a fraction.
She handed the water glass to him. “His stuff hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Sure, but he’s going to visit, isn’t he? That sewing cabinet in the living room isn’t going to keep him busy very long when he does.
Unless, is he into embroidery?”
He brought the glass to his lips. Delaney watched his throat as he swallowed and allowed her gaze to travel down his neck to the few visible chest hairs above his shirt. Despite his obvious strength there was nothing muscle-bound about his body, she noted. He had an elegance to him. And yet she could tell his biceps were wide and his chest well-defined.
Maybe it was the way he moved, lithe, coordinated, silent. More than once she’d been surprised by him when he was working around the house. He seemed to move on cat feet.
She thought of her list, now tucked into the back of the kitchen drawer, and considered adding cat feet to it.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked, setting the empty water glass on the counter.
“Just the thought of Jim,” she hesitated only briefly, checking, “doing embroidery.”
“My aunt once taught me how to knit,” Jack said, an easy smile playing on his lips.
Delaney’s brows rose. “Did she really?”
“Yep.” He nodded.
“And did you enjoy it?” She couldn’t help the smirk that molded her lips. It was all she could do to keep from laughing at the idea of Harp Cove’s heartthrob so domestically engaged.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, looking to the floor with a self-deprecating chuckle, “I did. Until Kevin got wind of it, that is, and there was the end of it.”
Delaney tried to picture a small Jack Shepard with knitting needles and yarn, winding and twisting the threads with little-boy fingers, studiously counting stitches. What had he been thinking? What had he been picturing as he worked? A blanket? A cap? Something he could show his friends?
“What did you make?” Despite herself she thought he must have looked very cute. She could imagine his eyes narrowing as he concentrated, the lashes appearing even longer in his boyish face.
“It was a scarf, actually.” He leaned one hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “A black one. Very manly.”
“Manly,” she repeated, smiling.
“Yeah. No fringe.”
She laughed. “Have you still got it?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “My mother probably does. She’s in California,” he explained, then grinned. “A good distance. I think my secret’s safe.”
“I don’t know…” She gave him a sly smile. “The cat’s out of the bag now. What’s it worth to you for me to keep my mouth shut?”
He looked at her then. Not that he hadn’t been looking at her before; it just seemed to her that at this moment he really looked at her. His eyes went soft and at the same time his gaze became somehow penetrating. This was the look, she thought, that Kim had mentioned. This had to be it because it made her stomach flip over.
His lips were curved but the eyes were intense. “All right. What’s your price?” he asked finally.
She laughed and tried to move nonchalantly to the cabinet where the glasses were. She took one down and thrust it under the tap, nearly cracking the rim against the faucet as she flipped the water on with her other hand.
“I think I’ll have to think about that,” she said, glancing out the window at the sunstruck ocean. Her heart raced.
“I guess I’m at your mercy then.” Though he’d moved no closer, coming from behind her his voice seemed intimate.
She turned. “Yes,” she said. “I guess you are.”
Their gazes met and held for what was, to Delaney, a painfully long moment. Then Emily’s cry reached her.
Delaney took a deep breath and mentally thanked God.
“The queen summons me,” she said with a wry smile, moving past him. “Is the window finished?”
If it was, she could just say, “See you later” and that would be the end of it. Jack Shepard and his penetrating looks would be gone, and she could attempt to get her nervous system back under control.
“Yeah. Do you mind if I come up with you?”
She paused in the hallway and turned back. “Where? Upstairs?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’d like to see her. Emily, I mean. I like babies.”
Delaney struggled to come up with a reason to say no, but all she could think about was a young Jack knitting a scarf. “I don’t know,” she said finally, then allowed a slow smile. “Maybe if you knitted her a blanket sometime…”
Jack laughed, and the light and warmth in his eyes when he did made Delaney’s breath catch.
A second later, surprised at herself, Delaney laughed too. She couldn’t help it. Despite the fact that she was consorting with the enemy, she was enjoying their conversation. She’d never been able to come up with this sort of banter with men before. Seemed she’d always been tongue-tied. But with Jack, it was easy.
She motioned for him to follow and started up the stairs. Emily’s cries grew louder.
It was only because he was so practiced at flirting, she told herself. The best charmers were the ones who made everyone else feel witty. Jack was clearly one of the masters. And here she was falling for it. Again.
What she was doing bringing him up to see Emily was beyond her. Bringing the wolf to the lamb, she thought. Only I’m the one who could be slaughtered.
Delaney reached the crib and bent over the rail. Emily’s face was beet red and streaked with tiny tears. Her chin quivered between wails.
“There now, sweet pea,” Delaney cooed, picking her up from the crib. Emily’s cries became trembling inward breaths and her little fists grabbed Delaney’s shirt and strands of her hair.
She kissed Emily’s fat, wet cheek and turned to Jack standing in the doorway. The expression on his face was inscrutable as he watched them.
“I haven’t seen her much the last couple weeks,” he said. “You guys leave early and get home pretty late, I guess.”
“We did.” Delaney smoothed Emily’s damp hair back from her face. “But we got some bad news yesterday. Cora at Tiny Tot quit, and she was the one who would bring Emily to me at the office after work.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I heard she was moving to Boston. Something about a new boyfriend.”
“That’s right.” Delaney had momentarily forgotten she was in such a small town. Of course Jack would know all about it. She wondered how long it would be before she’d know everything that was going on around town. Or would she always be an outsider?
She frowned, worried again that Cora was the only one at Tiny Tot who gave Emily individual attention. “So that’s going to cut into my day considerably. I’m afraid Dr. Jacobson’s none too happy about it either.”
Jack scoffed. “I wouldn’t worry about Doc. It’s not as if he’d ever fire you. You’ve got your priorities straight.”
Delaney shrugged her brows. “I guess.”
But did she? Part of her, a growing part, believed she should be home with Emily. If it weren’t for having to repay NHSC for her tuition, she would try to go part-time, but as things stood that was impossible.
Now the thought of dropping her baby off at Tiny Tot without Cora there to greet them, looking delighted at the sight of her all-time, number-one, favorite baby—as she always called Emily—frightened Delaney. Emily was getting so responsive now. What would it do to her development to be left in a crib all day long? Only picked up for feeding and the occasional minute of play…
Despite her reasoning, despite the irrefutable logic of having to provide for Emily and ensure her career, in the wake of Cora’s departure Delaney felt as if she were going to be dropping off her daughter at a prison.
“What’s the matter?” Jack’s quiet voice startled her out of her reverie.
Emily chewed sloppily on her own fist, the downy hairs on her head as she moved caressing Delaney’s cheek.
“Nothing.” Delaney shook her head. “We’ll just miss Cora, is all. Won’t we, sweetheart?” She pulled Emily from her shoulder and kissed her forehead, her heart swelling with love and trepidation.
Jack nodded, watching them.
Delaney moved t
o the changing table and laid Emily down. Emily’s fists flailed, grabbed each other, then flailed some more. Delaney handed her a small pink rattle, which Emily held up in front of her face for inspection.
“You’re worried about the day-care place, aren’t you,” Jack said, moving into the room.
For a second, the opportunity to share her worries with Jack seemed like an enormous relief. The idea that he might help her and relieve some of the burden of always wondering if she were doing the right thing was nearly irresistible.
But that was stupid. Crazy even. Jack wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t someone she could rely on and confide in. He was the one from whom she had to protect herself. Herself and Emily, that was.
She’d already decided he wasn’t father material. After getting to know him a little she believed he’d probably say that very thing himself. In fact he had said that very thing, when they’d first met. Besides, he was undependable. A philanderer. A playboy. An underachiever. The words were becoming a mantra.
Delaney peeled the dirty diaper from Emily’s behind, hoping the sight of it might send bachelor Jack back to the doorway. The last thing she needed was Jack Shepard acting like part of the family.
An unexpected pang hit her in the pit of her stomach as she realized that’s exactly what they were. A family. Only she was the only one of them who knew it. The responsibility was overwhelming.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said, speaking mostly to herself but knowing the words would suffice for Jack as well.
Emily looked straight at her and hit herself in the head with the rattle, as if to say, It’s simple, bonehead. But though Emily’s eyes seemed to hold all the answers, Delaney couldn’t divine what they were.
“You know,” Jack said, fingering the corner of the dinosaur blanket on which Emily lay. His hands looked enormous so close to Emily’s little body. “My aunt sometimes takes care of children. She’s only getting social security, so she likes the extra money. But she’s great with kids. Especially babies. She took care of twins last year until the parents moved.”
A lump of fear rose in Delaney’s throat. “No,” she managed to croak.