Читать книгу The Trick To Getting A Mom - Amy Frazier, Amy Frazier - Страница 10

HIS CHEEK STILL SMARTING from Kit’s slap, Sean stepped out of the hospital elevator and into a McCabe celebration. With all the goings-on, surely his bruised ego would go unnoticed.

Pop and Jonas had arrived in the maternity floor waiting room and Brad was passing out cigars, both real and chocolate. The kids were wild from junk food, missed bedtimes and the adults’ high spirits.

“Once he decided to come, there was no stopping him!” Brad exclaimed, his chest puffed out. “And he’s a keeper, all right. Eric Aaron McCabe. Seven pounds, eleven ounces and eighteen inches of squalling testosterone.”

Jonas clapped Brad on the back.

“He’s right. I just saw him. And Emily looks great, too.”

Mariah appeared around a corner. “I’ll call Nick and Chessie,” she said. “They’d better move back home quick before the selectmen declare Pritchard’s Neck has its quota of McCabes.”

“Hush, girl.” Pop gave his only daughter a loving glance that belied his gruff reprimand. “There could never be enough of you to suit me.” Penn had fathered five children. Now he counted on those offspring to build his dynasty.

A nurse appeared, and Sean recognized her as one of Pop’s poker pals. “Visiting hours are over, and you need to let the new mom rest. But, if you can control yourselves, I’ll bend the rules just the tiniest bit and let you take a peek at the new family member…who’d better have a good set of pipes to be heard over the lot of you.”

“Ah, Adele,” Pop crooned, affecting an Irish brogue. “I’ve a soft spot in me heart for a lass in uniform. Can I buy you a cuppa when your shift is done?”

Adele leveled Pop with a flinty glare. “You can pay your poker debts, Penn, and I’ll call us even.”

Her retort shut the older man up momentarily.

“Now,” Adele continued, “if you can hold on for just a few more minutes, we’ll have your baby ready for viewing in the nursery. But first, Emily would like to speak to you, Sean.”

“Me?”

“You sure she wasn’t asking for the proud grandpa?” Pop asked, feigning insult.

“I think I know the difference between you and your sons,” Adele replied. “I’ll be back for the rest of you when the baby’s ready.” She squinted at the assembled clan. “And try to keep your conversation to a dull roar.”

With that, she set off down the corridor at a brisk clip, Sean in her wake.

“Did Emily say why she wanted to see me?” he asked.

“You can ask her yourself.” The nurse stopped outside one of the rooms. “She’s in here.”

Emily was sitting up in bed when Sean came in, holding the baby and looking radiant.

“Do you want to hold your nephew?” she asked.

“You bet.”

Sean took the tiny bundle and stared down in wonder at the newest family member. “Hey, I’m your Uncle Sean.” The baby yawned, unimpressed. “He’s a handsome dude, Em.”

“Thank you. We think so.” Emily shifted her pillow, cleared her throat. “Would you like to have more children?”

Yeah, he would. “I’ve got Alex,” he said, concentrating on the infant in his arms. “And a whole lot of nephews and nieces. That’s plenty.”

“Family’s important.”

“Nothing more important.”

Another nurse appeared in the doorway. “I’m here to take the baby. If we don’t get him in the nursery soon, I’m afraid your family’s going to riot.”

“They’re an impatient bunch.” Sean chuckled as he handed Eric over. He turned to Emily. “I’d better let you get your beauty sleep.”

“Just a minute,” Emily replied. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sean shifted uneasily.

“I’ve been a McCabe long enough to know what a devoted father and family man you are, Sean. You deserve a woman with the same values.”

“How did this get to be about me?”

“Mariah told me Kit was with you in the cafeteria.”

“She wasn’t with me. It was pure coincidence we ended up in the same room.”

“Hmm. Two coincidental meetings in one day.” Emily obviously didn’t believe him. “Mariah said there was chemistry between you two.”

“Mariah’s got an imagination as vivid as Alex’s.”

“Alex is definitely attracted to her.”

“Kit’s not staying in town.”

“Exactly. Why would you want to start up with someone who’s leaving?”

“I think we’ve had this conversation.”

Emily looked him in the eye. “My friend Elaine works for a consumer credit counseling service in Biddeford. The agency helps people manage their debt once they’re in trouble. Kit paid them a visit to get help sorting out Babe’s financial mess.”

“I don’t think Elaine should have told you this, and I don’t think you should be repeating it to me.”

Emily acted as if she hadn’t heard. “It seems Kit cosigned with Babe on all her accounts. When Babe skipped town, she left Kit with thousands of dollars in debt. Thousands.”

Sean cringed. What kind of person would do that to family? A mother putting that burden on a daughter was unbelievable. It was a betrayal. He thought of how implicitly he trusted Pop and Jonas and the deal they’d struck on the pound. Bailing out and leaving a family member stranded was so far outside Sean’s realm of experience, he felt suddenly protective.

“You can’t hold that against Kit,” he declared. “She’s trying to do what’s right.”

“I know,” Emily said quietly. “I’m telling you this because I’m worried about you and Alex. For us, family ties, loyalty and reliability mean everything. For Kit…who knows?” She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “You’re a good man, Sean. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want Alex to get hurt.”

“Neither do I. Good night, Em.” He kissed his sister-in-law on the top of her head, unwilling to admit that she’d effectively made her point. He and Kit were worlds apart. “Don’t worry.”

He left the room to find his daughter.

Back in the waiting room, Alex sat alone in the corner, scowling and peeling the label off a soft drink bottle. Sean could hear the rest of his family down the hall, presumably admiring the baby in the nursery.

“Hey, june bug, don’t you want to see your new cousin?”

Alex shrugged. “I dunno.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why did Kit have to go?”

Sean sat beside his daughter and put his arm around her shoulder, fragile as a bird’s wing. “Kit’s not part of the family, hon. Besides, she finished her business at the hospital and headed home.”

“So why’d you follow her?”

“I…thought Kit’s feelings might be hurt. I wanted to apologize.”

“Aunt Mariah wasn’t real friendly to her.”

“No, she wasn’t.” He chucked Alex under the chin. “Hey, sport, if you want to see Eric, we’d better get a move on.”

Alex stayed put and crossed her arms over her chest. It was no secret she’d inherited his stubborn streak. “I like Kit.”

“I know you do.” He rubbed the back of his neck, massaged the tense muscles. “And she likes you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

What was wrong was his inappropriate attraction to a woman who rocked his sense of responsibility. When she’d jumped on her motorcycle after slapping him, his first thought had been to climb on that powerful machine with her. He could imagine the evening breeze on his face, the heady sense of freedom, the thrill of not knowing what lay around the corner.

“I just wanna be her friend,” Alex whispered, her face pinched in confusion. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

His child deserved the best explanation he could muster.

“When Kit lived here,” he began, “she wasn’t happy. She didn’t make friends easily. She always wanted to leave, to see the world. She only came back because her mother messed up and Kit has to help her out. She’s not happy about it, and she can’t wait to leave. Alex, honey, it’s hard to make friends with a person who has no intention of sticking around.”

Sliding off the chair, Alex threaded her tiny fingers through Sean’s big ones. “Maybe she’d stick around if she had friends.”

It was hard to argue with a child’s simple logic.

He didn’t try. Instead, he led her down the corridor to where the rest of the family stood in front of the large nursery window, behind which the plastic bassinets were empty, except for one. It seemed Eric Aaron had center stage to himself tonight in this small coastal hospital. Better he should be in the spotlight than his Uncle Sean.

Lifting Alex up so she could see her new cousin, a flood of memories washed over him. He’d stood at this very window and gazed down at the pink bundle he and Jilian would take home. Alex.

He felt a pang of guilt now, that he’d been less consumed with love or awe at that time and more worried about how two nineteen-year-olds and a newborn were going to make it on their own.

Near the end of senior year, when Jilian had told him she was pregnant, he’d had to turn down a scholarship to Brown to do the right thing—to promise to love, honor and cherish her. He’d managed the honor part, no sweat, and he’d worked on cherish. But, regretfully, love came too late.

“So you’re going to help your Uncle Jonas and me work on the pound tomorrow while your dad’s pulling traps.” Pop stood next to him, talking to Alex.

“Sorry, Pop Pop.” Alex rubbed her eyes. It was past her bedtime. “Seafaring Cecil’s in town, and she said I could help her. We’re gonna get her yard sale stuff ready for the junk man.”

“Reality check.” Sean set Alex firmly back on the floor. “We talked about this earlier. You’re to stay with Pop Pop and Uncle Jonas and work on your school assignments.”

Alex covered her ears and closed her eyes.

“What’s going on, skipper?” Pop ruffled Alex’s hair. “You want to throw your grandpop over for some old travel writer?”

“She’s not old.” Scowling, Alex raised her voice. “She’s cool. And she’s only here for a little bit, and she promised to autograph my books.”

The others turned as one, their attention diverted from the baby to Sean and Alex. Mariah shot Sean a what-have-you-gone-and-let-your-daughter-do-now look.

“Alex, enough.” He pulled her hands from her ears. “You’re overtired, and it’s time for bed. We’re going.”

Alex yanked hard on his hand. “But I want Kit to watch me tomorrow! Not Pop Pop and Uncle Jonas!” She shouted so loudly, Eric let out a high-pitched yelp behind the plate glass.

“McCabes, out. Now.” Adele stormed down the corridor.

“Sheesh,” Noah muttered, slouching past Alex. “Why’d you hafta ruin it for everybody?”

Unabashed, Alex stuck her tongue out at her cousin.

Brad patted Sean on the back as he and Mariah herded his brood down the hall. “Hang in there, buddy.”

“Hold the elevator.” Trying not to grin, Pop followed.

“Be good.” Jonas tweaked Alex’s nose in passing. “See you tomorrow.”

“Nuh-uh,” Alex muttered almost inaudibly.

“What did you say?” Alone in the corridor, Sean knelt on one knee before his daughter.

Alex refused to speak. This was so unlike her. Normally, she told him far more than he needed to know. She didn’t argue with him. And she loved spending time with Pop and Jonas.

Sean tilted her chin so that she had to look at him. “I won’t have bratty behavior.”

“I’m not a brat,” Alex muttered.

“But you’re behaving like one.”

“Then you’re behaving like one!” she wailed. “Seafaring Cecil’s our favorite. But now she’s right here, you won’t let me be nice to her. You’re just a big phony!”

“You’ve crossed the line, Alex. I won’t tolerate disrespect.”

“But everybody’s disrespecting Kit!” she cried.

Sean gritted his teeth. “Kit is no concern of ours.” She certainly wasn’t if she could drive this ugly wedge between him and his daughter, between him and his family.

“But Daaaad—”

“Not a word, Alex. I mean it.” Picking up his daughter like a sailor’s duffel, he headed for the elevator.

Alex withdrew into silence and became stiff in his arms, clearly showing her displeasure, clearly shutting him out.

SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT.

Kit pushed open the front door to Babe’s rental. She could have sworn she’d locked the tiny house. But then nothing worked in this place. The long Maine twilight cast the sparse furnishings in gloom, making them appear shabbier, if that was possible. Babe had always rented, and she’d always rented furnished. She used to say that as long as she had a springy double bed, she was home. She always told Kit things Kit knew other mothers didn’t share with their daughters. Shouldn’t share.

The faint odor of a man’s cheap cologne hung in the air. Was it new—an unsettling thought—or just a lingering reminder of Ed Crenshaw?

Sean didn’t wear cologne.

He smelled of the sea and of shirts hung out to dry in the tangy salt air. He smelled like a man who worked out-of-doors for a living ought to smell.

She moved her foot to feel for the backpack with her flashlight where she’d left it beside the front door. The pack and her sleeping bag were her only luggage. She traveled light.

Hairs rose on the back of her neck as she suddenly realized that her things had been moved from one side of the door to the other. Flattening herself against the wall, she listened intently. Nothing. Not a sound except crickets chirping beyond the front screen door.

Sliding slowly down the wall, she fumbled in the outer pocket of her backpack for her flashlight—weapons grade, she’d called it when she’d bought it—but didn’t turn it on. She had a cell phone, but the battery was dead. Besides, who would she call? The police? She’d never considered the police on her side. No, the heavy flashlight would have to do.

She scanned her surroundings. The house was minuscule. Kit hadn’t noticed—or felt—anything amiss when she’d clambered over the yard sale mess on the porch. The front door opened directly into a living space that elled on the left into a kitchen and eating area. In daylight she could see the entire area from where she stood. Her eyes now accustomed to the dusk, she detected no out-of-place shape or movement.

But she sensed something—or someone.

Straight ahead, the door to the single bedroom hung open. Kit could see most of the room, the double bed, the single dresser. She couldn’t see into the bathroom off the bedroom or out onto the back porch, which opened off the kitchen. Never lifting her gaze from the bedroom doorway, she stood on one foot and then removed a boot. Prepared to flee out the front, she flung it with all her might through the bedroom doorway. The boot landed with a thud against the far wall, the noise echoing throughout the mostly empty house.

Nothing but the racing of her heart.

She slipped her foot out of the other boot, then crept barefoot across the living room into the kitchen. It, too, was empty and silent. She felt a little foolish, Kinsey Millhone in a Nancy Drew town.

Peering through the window over the kitchen sink, she couldn’t see anything on the porch. She tried the back door. It was also unlocked. How many men had Babe given keys? Every sense alert, she stepped outside.

Twilight had receded into night, but the moon hadn’t risen yet. The house was set back from the road in a thick copse of evergreens that hid the neighbors on either side and out back. Kit scanned the line of trees.

Off to the right, a few yards into the trees, was a huge granite outcropping. She couldn’t see it now in the dark, but beyond the trees where the rocks were, a small glow caught Kit’s attention. Too orange for a firefly, it was more like the lit end of a cigarette. As she stared, frozen, the light arced then disappeared.

Sometimes retreat was the better part of valor.

Kit backed into the house and locked the door, jamming one of the kitchen chairs under the knob. Hefting the other chair to the front door, she locked and jammed that too. There were only five windows in the entire house. She checked that they were all shut and locked. It would be stuffy, but in her travels she’d experienced stuffier. Physical discomfort barely registered on her sensory radar. Emotional discomfort…well, better not go there.

She grabbed her sleeping bag and unrolled it under the kitchen table. An intruder would least expect to find her there, although she hoped she was just being paranoid. Too much time spent in this stupid prying town.

An intruder? More likely kids, hearing the rumors of Babe’s flight, had checked to see if the house was empty for a smoke or an illegal beer scarfed from Mom and Dad’s fridge.

Kit quickly shed her jeans, then crawled on top of the sleeping bag in her tank top and panties. Lying under the table, she snorted softly at herself. She should have been wearing her cap-cam. Her Seafaring Cecil fans would have found a video version of this latest adventure a hoot. It would certainly blow her tough-guy persona.

She breathed slowly, trying to regain her center. Four slow breaths in, four out. She tried to focus on a pleasant memory—kayaking in Tasmania. But her mind wandered to Alex McCabe and her small kindnesses.