Читать книгу Home For Christmas - Carrie Weaver - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Nancy’s stunned expression did nothing to alleviate Beau’s misery. She might as well have made an L with her thumb and forefinger and pressed it to her forehead in the international sign for Loser.

He liked Nancy. He didn’t want her to think he was some kind of sleazy guy with an inability to commit. Okay, so he had been a sleazy guy with an inability to commit. But that was in the past. “I’ve changed.”

The disbelief in her eyes told him she’d heard that line before.

“Really. I turned over a new leaf when Rachel came to live with me.”

Nancy raised her chin. “It’s none of my business.”

“Yes, it is your business. You’re supposed to be helping me hang on to my sanity while raising Rachel. The buddy brochure says trust is essential. I need you to trust me.”

“I’m the wrong woman for the job, Beau. I’m not nearly as trusting as I used to be.”

Beau’s heart sank at the bitterness in her voice. Someone had hurt her badly. Maybe the way he’d hurt his ex-wives? He rebelled at the idea. Sure, divorce had been difficult each and every time. Well, except for ex-wife number three. They’d gladly parted ways once they’d sobered up enough to realize what they’d done.

But certainly Laurie and Vivian, ex-wives number one and number two, respectively, hadn’t been scarred for life. Had they?

Nancy stood. “Beau, this isn’t going to work.”

Panic propelled him to his feet. “Look, I know I didn’t think this buddy thing would work, but, um, I have to admit you’ve been a lot of help. You understand teenage girls.”

“Nobody understands teenage girls.”

“Yeah, well, you do a hell of a lot better than I do. All the buddies have already been assigned. You’ll leave me high and dry if you quit.”

“Maybe we can trade.”

“I already asked. No trades.”

“You tried to trade me?” She braced her hands on her hips. “Why?”

Beau sighed. Maybe this was one of those times when honesty was the best policy. “No offense, Nancy, but you’re just too damn good-looking. I’ve promised myself no more women. I need to concentrate on Rachel and getting this dad stuff right.”

Nancy’s lips twitched. She threw her head back and laughed aloud.

Beau smiled in response.

But she laughed so long it started to scare him. Had he completely unhinged the woman by being straightforward?

Finally, she wound down to a chuckle, then stopped altogether. “You’re afraid of me because you’ve sworn off women?”

He nodded.

“Oh, that’s too funny. I’m the last woman in the world who’d want to get involved with you, Beau Stanton.”

That hurt. “What’s so bad about me?”

“Come on, Beau, get real. You’ve been married not once, not twice, but three times. You’re a slick-talking, woman-loving, son of a gun with a voice that’d melt stone. I’ve seen your kind before. Shoot, I’ve married your kind before. You’re safe with me, buddy.”

“The husband you, um, wanted to dance on his grave? I remind you of him?”

“Remind me? You could have given Eric lessons. At least you were smart enough to divorce one wife before you married another. Or am I assuming too much?”

Beau didn’t know whether to be fascinated by her disclosure or insulted. “Your husband was a bigamist? Really?”

Nancy sat next to him. “Yes. Really.”

He whistled under his breath. No wonder she didn’t want another man in her life. It was a damn good thing he had no intention of acting on his attraction to her, because he wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with a woman like Nancy.

Extending his hand, Beau said, “We should be safe as buddies then. Deal?”

She shook his hand. “Deal.”

Nancy squinted at the alarm clock by her bed. It was almost midnight. Her heart raced. She picked up the receiver. “Mom?”

“No, it’s Beau.” He sounded frazzled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rachel was caught shoplifting.”

She rose, instantly alert. “Is she okay?”

“It’s been a long night. I brought her home about an hour ago. She’s to appear before the judge Monday morning. I’m so wired from coffee, I can’t sleep. And I can’t talk to her because I’m so mad I could wrap my hands around her throat.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I don’t mean that. Oh, I don’t know what I mean. I called her mother. Laurie said Rachel had been rebelling, hanging with the wrong crowd. She hoped the move and having her father around would be a ‘steadying influence.’”

“You didn’t know Rachel was getting into trouble before?”

“Laurie and I don’t talk much. I was so stunned when she dropped off Rachel, I didn’t think to ask.”

“And how about later? After the heat of the moment?”

“I’m, um, not big on long heart-to-heart conversations with my exes.”

“Why am I not surprised? It sounds like you could use someone to talk to tonight, though.” Nancy paused to gather her thoughts. “Ana’s sleeping, so I need to stay home. If you’re comfortable leaving Rachel alone right now, you could come over here.”

“You’re right, I need to talk to a rational adult or I’m going to lose my mind. Rachel’s grounded for life, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to be around me at all tonight. I’ll tell her where I’ll be. She’s got my cell number if she needs me.”

“I’ll have some nice, relaxing herbal tea ready when you get here.”

“Herbal tea? Don’t you have anything stronger?”

“Nope. Take it or leave it.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m desperate. I’ll take it. Your house is on Evergreen, right?”

“Yes.” She gave him the house number and hung up the phone.

Glancing down at her skimpy tank top and flannel boxers, she dashed to the closet and removed a baggy pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt of Eric’s. Why she’d kept it, she didn’t know. Maybe because Eric had been such an important part of her life since high school. It still seemed odd at times, knowing she’d never talk to him again.

Nancy pushed the unsettling thought away and headed to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her hair.

The doorbell rang just as she finished.

She took the stairs two at a time and opened the door. “You must’ve broken a few speed limits to get here this quick.”

Beau shrugged. “Probably.”

“You look like hell. Come on in.”

“Thanks. That NASCAR sweatshirt of yours is really attractive, too.”

Her face warmed. “What were you expecting, a lace teddy?”

There was an evil glint in his eyes. “Now that might just distract me from my problems.”

“Dream on, buddy. Park your butt at the breakfast bar while I get the kettle going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After she filled the kettle and set it on the stove, she studied him. He had bags under his eyes, a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Out with it. The whole story.”

“I wish I knew the whole story. That’s part of the problem. Rachel won’t talk to me. All I know is she went to the mall with her friends and then the police called to say she’d been caught shoplifting.”

“In your limited conversations with your ex, did she say Rachel has shoplifted before?”

He nodded. “Once. Right before she came to live with me. So what sage advice do you have for me, buddy?”

“Ah, grasshopper, when you can snatch the pebble from my hand, you still won’t have a clue about teenage girls.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. What do I do besides ground her? Send her to a convent?”

“Hmm. If you want grandchildren someday, the convent’s out.”

Beau groaned, placing his hand over his eyes. He peered out at her between his fingers. “Don’t remind me. She could end up pregnant if I don’t get her back on the right path.”

“Um, I think you took a gigantic leap there, Beau. A lot of girls shoplift. I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying sometimes it’s a rite of passage.”

“Did you ever shoplift?”

Nancy nodded. “Yep. Makeup. I ended up grounded for a week. What did Rachel steal?”

“Earrings. The stupid part is that she doesn’t even have pierced ears. I won’t let her mutilate her body like that.”

“Hmm. Do you think she was making a statement of sorts?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let me get my ears pierced or I’ll turn to a life of crime?”

“Something like that. Kids can be pretty manipulative.”

“How come you’re so smart about this stuff with Rachel? But then with Ana, you don’t seem to have a clue?”

“I remember being a teen, what I did, how I felt. I can’t remember being a toddler. They’re completely foreign creatures.”

“Exactly how I feel about Rachel. Do you think maybe it’s just our own kids we don’t understand?”

The kettle sputtered. Nancy removed a couple of mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. She poured chamomile tea, added a dollop of honey and handed a cup to Beau.

Sipping her tea, she pondered his theory. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe all parents are baffled by their children. And some are just better at hiding it than others.”

“I figured it was because I was so new at it.”

“You and me both. Didn’t you have visitation while Rachel was growing up?”

Beau flushed and avoided her eyes. “Yeah, um, I did. But I was on the road a lot. I never forgot a birthday or special occasion.” His expression brightened. “And I took her on some scouting father/daughter camping trip.”

“You were the fun parent. Now you’re the mean parent. I imagine that’s a hard transition.”

“I’m not mean.”

“No, you’re just a concerned father, trying to do the right thing. But to Rachel, it probably seems mean. And maybe a little confusing. She’d lived with her mom all that time and then bam, she’s living with a father she barely knows.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.” His voice was glum. “I’d rather be the fun parent.”

“Rachel’s been with you how long?”

“Three months.”

“If she weren’t there every day, for some reason, would you miss her?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Now that you’ve been the mean parent, do you think it would be worth it not to see her every day, even if you got to be the fun parent again? Would it be hard to stay away?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten used to having her around. At least when the police aren’t calling to say she’s gotten into trouble.”

“Mama?” Ana stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her feet poking out from beneath her little flannel nightgown.

Nancy scooped her up. “I’m here, baby. What’s wrong.”

Ana pointed at Beau, her eyes wide. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing men at the house in the middle of the night and Nancy wanted to keep it that way.

“This is Beau. He’s Mommy’s friend. He came over for tea because he was sad.”

Ana nodded.

“Now, let me take you back up to bed.”

Beau watched Nancy’s expression soften when she looked at her daughter. The love shining in her eyes was enough to make a man want to lay down his life for her. He resisted the urge to follow her up the stairs and watch her tuck in her daughter.

Raising his mug, he took a big swallow and sputtered. He didn’t care what anyone said, chamomile tea sucked, big time.

Restless despite his fatigue, Beau wandered around the room. Nancy’s kitchen was large, one wall exposed red brick. Copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling. The professional-size stove led him to believe she liked to cook. Good, he liked to eat.

Heading into the family room, he admired the feeling of warmth and safety she’d created. The oversize couch and love seat were made of soft, dark-brown fabric. Throw pillows in solid red, purple and blue reminded him of Nancy—bright and fun, yet sensual.

Uh-oh. He looked at family-room furniture and thought sensual. Next he’d be wondering what Nancy’s bedroom looked like. No sooner had the suggestion risen than his imagination was off and running. He’d bet his bottom dollar Nancy had an antique four-poster canopy bed with a white eyelet comforter so dense you could get lost in it.

Redirecting his thoughts, he stopped in front of an oak sideboard, where family pictures were lovingly arranged. At least he assumed it was family, because the majority of the photos were of Nancy and Ana. One had been taken in a drab, old-fashioned room, with a stern-looking woman holding Ana. Then there was a photo of Nancy with an older version of herself, probably her mother. The woman’s eyes held a lingering sadness.

“There, I think she’s asleep again,” Nancy said from behind him.

“You’ve got some great pictures. I’d like to get a studio picture done with Rachel if I can ever catch her in a good mood.”

Nancy pointed to the drab photo. “That one’s at the orphanage in Pechory, Russia. Ana’s house mother was saying goodbye. The staff grows attached to the children and it’s hard for them to see the kids go. But they’re happy that the children are headed for a better life.”

“Ana’s adopted?” The realization helped connect a few of the seemingly unrelated dots Beau had found intriguing.

Nancy nodded, moving to the fireplace, as if she needed the additional warmth. “Sometimes I forget it’s not common knowledge like in McGuireville.”

Beau resisted the urge to follow her, to connect with her. He was afraid she’d quit confiding if he got too close. “I didn’t realize Ana came from Russia. She speaks English like any other kid her age. I have to admit, I was curious… You never said how long your husband was dead. But I figured it was none of my business who Ana’s father was.”

“Eric wasn’t in favor of adopting, otherwise I’d probably have two or three children by now. Most people around here probably assume Ana is Eric’s daughter.” She turned, raising her chin. “I guess I don’t go out of my way to correct that assumption until I know someone pretty well.”

The rebellious tilt to her chin and the hurt in her eyes touched Beau. Beau started to reach out to her but let his arm drop to his side. He couldn’t offer more than friendship.

“What made you decide on adopting after he died?”

Seeing Nancy frown, he realized he’d goofed. “Sorry, that’s none of my business, either.”

Nancy’s features relaxed. “Have a seat.” She gestured toward one end of the couch and sat at the other end. “I guess I’m a little defensive. Some of the folks back home in McGuireville were pretty disapproving of a single woman adopting a child. Unfortunately, my mother was one of them. And the fact that I adopted a ‘foreign’ child didn’t help any.”

“That’s too bad.” He sat where she’d indicated. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why?”

“Maybe because I wonder if I’ve been selfish. I adopted because I’ve wanted to be a mom for as long as I could remember. And I guess I felt I deserved to have a child after everything I went through with Eric. We never conceived, though he fathered a beautiful little boy with another woman. So, I guess, I figured he owed me in a way.”

“That’s not selfish. You needed a baby, Ana needed a home. It’s a win-win situation. You’re a wonderful mother and Ana’s obviously a happy, healthy kid.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to hear someone say that every once in a while. Even though I don’t have a clue what I’m doing at times, as you pointed out earlier.”

Beau stifled a groan. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just a dumb old country boy flapping my gums.” He pointed to the coffee table where several child-development books rested. “You’re learning all you can and you love Ana like crazy. That’s what matters.”

Nancy moved to perch on the front of the cushion. “Sometimes…when it’s been a really long day and everything has gone wrong and Ana’s been like the Energizer Bunny, I wonder if she’d be better off if I hadn’t adopted her.”

“Aw, darlin’, look at the pictures. No matter how much the staff cared about those kids, it’s not the same. You’re giving Ana a chance to live like a real kid, not in some institution.”

Nancy sighed. “That’s what I keep telling myself. But some days, there just doesn’t seem to be enough of me to go around.”

“Most days there doesn’t seem to be enough of me to go around. Staying one step ahead of Rachel is a full-time job. But I don’t know any different—Laurie and I were already separated when Rachel was born. I imagine it’s a little easier with two parents because you can tag-team. But I don’t seriously think having only one parent hurts as long as there’s plenty of love and dedication.”

Smiling, she said, “Did you hear yourself, Beau Stanton? You sounded like you could run for the Parent-Teacher Association.”

Beau flushed. “Well, as the song says, the times they are a-changin’.”

“Folk music, too? What is a good old Texas boy doing listening to anything but hard-core country?”

“I don’t want to scare you or anything—” he leaned closer, watching her sea-green eyes widen when their faces were merely inches apart “—but I like to listen to blues and Motown, too.”

“Beau Stanton, I do believe you’ve been holding out on me,” she breathed, her accent as thick and warm as sorghum on toast.

Lust nearly knocked him off the couch. It had been so long since he’d bedded a woman. Longer still since he’d spent the whole night with one, talking and laughing in the dark.

Nancy had a terrific laugh. And the thought of her seductive voice coming from the other side of the bed had him instantly aroused.

Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “Time for you to go, buddy.” Her emphasis on the last word reminded him of his place, which was nowhere near her bed.

This friends stuff was proving to be difficult. Very difficult.