Читать книгу A Ready-Made Family - Carrie Alexander, Carrie Alexander - Страница 10

TWENTY MINUTES LATER , Lia poured a sixty-four-ounce can of tomato juice over Jake’s head. The thick red waterfall coated his hair and face, then streamed in slimy globules over his shoulders and chest. He was stoic, not making a sound as she shook the can and the last droplets landed all over his face.

“Cool,” Howie said. “It looks like blood. Dump some on me.”

“Ugh.” Lia cranked open another can.

Jake used a washcloth to smear the juice over his skin. He and Howie sat in a big iron claw-foot tub. Howie had insisted on the communal bath, which was unusual because he’d always been a serious little guy, private about his personal business from an early age. Lia had expected Jake to refuse or at least hesitate, but he’d merely shrugged and climbed into the tub in his boxers. It was the same with the grocery receipt and remaining cash that she’d carefully laid out on the kitchen table so he could see she’d accounted for every penny. He’d barely spared a glance. Jake certainly wasn’t a fussy man.

Not like Larry.

“Sauce me,” Howie said.

“Seinfeld,” Jake said. “The entity.”

Howie pumped a fist, making a splash in the pink water. “Yes!”

“What did I miss?” Lia dumped juice over Howie’s head. He shrieked and sputtered with delight. She smiled to hear it, and her lungs expanded, taking in a deeper breath than she’d known for months, even years.

Jake leaned back in the tub. “Don’t you ever watch Seinfeld reruns?”

“Not really.”

“See, there was this episode with a stink in the car, called ‘the entity,’” Howie said, forgetting to breathe he was so excited.

“The stink clung to everything it touched,” Jake added.

“So Elaine, her hair smelled, and she had to get a tomato-juice shampoo, and she said—”

“Sauce me,” Jake and Howie chorused. They looked at Lia, waiting for a laugh.

“I see.” She shook the empty can. “But this is juice, not sauce.”

“Mom.”

“Same thing.” Jake shook his head at Howie. “She doesn’t get it.”

Howie shook his head at Lia. “You don’t get it, Mom.”

“I guess not.” She caught Jake’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. “Seeing as you’re the man with so much stinkin’ entity experience, how fast does this remedy work?”

Jake sniffed himself. “We stay in as long as it takes.”

Howie leaned forward to get a whiff. “I smell tomato juice.”

Lia took a pitcher of water and poured it over her son’s sandy-colored head. “You’re going to have pink hair.”

Howie wasn’t sure how to take that news. “Jake, too?”

“His hair is dark. The tomato won’t stain as much.”

Jake passed her a bottle of shampoo. Lia snapped it open and squeezed out a dollop. She began massaging the lather into Howie’s hair and scalp, but he pushed her away. “I can do it.”

“Want to wash mine?” Jake’s question seemed serious—until Lia detected the smile in the laugh lines carved around his eyes. He had a very masculine face—strong bones, blunt features, a firm jaw bristling with a five-o’clock shadow. His dark hair was peppered with gray.

“I’m sure you’re capable.” She collected the cans and can opener. “I’ll leave you two to finish up. Howie, rinse off thoroughly. I don’t want to find sticky tomato juice behind your ears.”

Jake saluted. “We’ll proceed accordingly and present ourselves for inspection, ma’am. Right, Howie?”

“Yes, sir.” Howie saluted with a sudsy hand.

Lia smiled at them. “Here are your glasses, Howie.” She placed the spectacles on the surround of a chipped white sink of fifties vintage and caught sight of herself in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Her hair was as fuzzy as a played-out Barbie doll’s. The touch of lipstick and mascara she’d applied that morning was long gone. She looked bone-tired and at least ten years older than thirty-two.

She turned her face aside. Some days she felt that old. But not right now. Being around Jake was rejuvenating. He put out a lot of rugged male energy. Her spirits perked up and her body responded whether or not she wanted it to. Even though she was usually not focused on that stuff, him being half-naked most of the time was mighty distracting.

The girls were hovering outside the door to the bathroom. “When can we leave?” Sam asked.

Kristen tugged on Lia’s hand and said plaintively, “I’m hungry.”

Lia mouthed, “Quiet,” and hustled both of them toward the kitchen. The stone house was small—two bedrooms, one bath, with a fairly roomy kitchen that opened onto an L-shaped dining and living room area. Though neat as a pin, the kitchen showed the wear and tear of time on the scuffed linoleum, ancient fixtures and stained ceramic sink. A pair of faded print curtains hung in the window that overlooked the new garden and the stand of evergreens that crested the riverbank. Altogether, it was a homely but homey place. Lia wished she could curl into a fetal position on the sagging plaid couch and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

The shower was running. Jake shouldn’t have been able to overhear, but Lia spoke quickly in a low voice nevertheless. “Samantha, we will go as soon as we can.” Even though I don’t know where we’re going. “Krissy, baby…” She sank onto her heels and gave her youngest a quick hug. “Dinner’s coming. Eat a few animal crackers to tide you over.”

The box of cookies hung from a string wound around Kristen’s finger. Her stuffed rabbit, Cuddlebunny, was clutched in the other hand. “They’re gone.” She was on the verge of tears, a sure sign that she was overtired. “Sam ate ’em all.”

“I did not.”

“Did, too! I said she could have one of the elephants and she taked a big handful.”

“Girls, shhh. It’s okay.” Lia pinched between her eyes. “I won’t let you starve.” She looked at Jake’s cash on the table and thought of the food he’d placed just so in the almost bare cupboards. At the store, she’d counted out her remaining coins to pay for the animal crackers. There was still her credit card, but they could be tracked through that. She didn’t want to use it unless she had no other choice.

One look at Kristen’s welling eyes said that point may have been reached. Lia’s head drooped. She put a hand on the floor to steady herself. Running away from home in the Grudge with less than four hundred dollars in cash had been a foolish decision but necessary. Absolutely necessary.

Except where did they go now?

“Help yourselves,” Jake said from the hallway.

Lia pulled herself together and stood on shaky legs. Weak from hunger, she told herself. Not just weak.

To Jake, she said, “I’m sorry. You know children. Or maybe you don’t. They get weepy when they’re hungry and I—” She let out a choked-off laugh. She was feeling kind of weepy and hopeless herself.

Even though he spoke easily, Jake’s grip tightened on the towel he’d draped around his shoulders. “No problem. I’ll get dressed and we’ll make dinner.”

Lia opened her mouth but didn’t speak. She was in no position to refuse. “You’re being very kind, considering how we barged in on you.” Their eyes met and she cringed inside, reading his expression as pity. She didn’t want pity. She wanted respect. Independence.

But first, dinner. “Thank you.”

After a nudge, Kristen and Sam chimed in. “Thank you, Mr. Robbin.”

He brushed off the gratitude in his abrupt way. So much like Rose. “All of you—call me Jake,” he said before disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

“I NOTICE YOUR MOTHER isn’t here,” Lia commented in the careful tones of a guest bent on making polite conversation. “I know Rose has been caring for her for the past few years.”

Jake rolled a beer bottle between his palms. He was sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs they kept around for the cottage guests—when they had any. The grill smoked nearby as the charcoal cooled. He’d given Lia a choice of hamburgers or fresh-caught fish. She’d chosen the fish, to her offspring’s displeasure. They’d been polite about eating at least some of it and had filled up on corn on the cob and the biscuits Lia had produced after scouting his kitchen for flour and baking powder.

Jake met her inquiring eyes. “Maxine…uh, my mother is in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“She got overwrought and her emphysema worsened.”

“Too much wedding excitement?”

“In a way. More a case of the wedding demanding too much of my sister’s attention. If you knew our mother, you’d understand.” While no one in their household had ruled the roost but Black Jack, his mother had become passive-aggressive to get her way. Particularly with Rose.

Jake glanced at Lia. “Or do you know? I forget that Rose might’ve confided in you about the history of our family.”

“She told me some of it. But not everything. Not even close.”

“That sounds like Rose.”

After a minute of silence, Lia cleared her throat. “Will your mother be home soon?”

“Not right away. She’s being moved to a care facility. They want to monitor her for a while longer. Of course, she’s putting up a fuss, but making her stay was the only way for the newlyweds to get a honeymoon. If she was here, she’d have insisted that Rose stick around to look after her.” Jake was bemused by his loose tongue. After the goings-on of the wedding, he’d been looking forward to solitude. But having Lia and her kids around wasn’t so bad. “I was never much good at that sort of thing—caretaking. No patience.”

“You were great with Howie.”

“I’ve worked at staying calm under pressure.”

“In the Army, huh.” She did a marching-in-place gesture that made him smile. “All that discipline.”

He nodded.

“Well,” Lia said after a minute, searching for another topic when he would have been fine to sit with her in silence, “family illness hasn’t been an issue for me. My parents are young yet, in their midfifties.” She looked down and picked at a fingernail. “We’re not close.”

“How come?” he asked after a beat. Talking like this made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t believe in revealing your feelings to passing strangers—or even lingering strangers. Hell, he didn’t even talk to his own brother. He’d tried to stay in touch with Gary after the prison sentence, but there was too much anger and resentment there. Jake and Lia had found ways to straighten themselves out. Gary was a casualty.

“They didn’t approve of me marrying so young.” Lia laughed a little to cover the obvious pain. “Not that they would have approved of me having a baby out of wedlock, either.”

“I thought that in these cases, once the grandchild arrives, the grandparents come around.”

“You’d think so.” She sighed. “I mean, yes, they have made an effort with their grandkids. We visit back and forth a few times a year. But they never quite let me forget what a disappointment I’ve been, including the divorce.”

There was another, longer silence. “Rose—a newlywed,” Lia said suddenly with a fond smile. He could tell she was deliberately lightening the mood. “Incredible.”

“Evan seems like a good guy.”

“He’d better be.”

Jake liked Lia’s fierce loyalty. He’d felt that way about his battalion. Good guys, most of them, and excellent soldiers. With his mother and sister, the family ties were tangled up in turmoil and guilt. He hadn’t been able to protect them the way he’d have liked to. But then, that way would have likely resulted in his own prison sentence. Back when they’d needed him the most, the only solutions he’d known involved hot temper and flying fists.

Black Jack’s legacy. Like father, like son.

Jake slapped a mosquito that had landed on his arm. He wiped away the bloody smear and lifted the beer, tipping it toward Lia. “You’re sure you don’t want one?”

“Not tonight. I’m too tired. A beer would put me right to sleep.” She looked at the sun slipping past the tops of the looming evergreens. “We should be going before it gets dark,” she said, but didn’t move.

“Where to?”

“Um…” Her lids lowered. “I met a woman at the grocery store. Claire. She gave me her card, said we could get a room at her bed-and-breakfast.”

“Free?”

“Well, no, I don’t suppose so.” Lia’s face crumpled. She looked miserable whenever the question of money came up. He assumed she had very little, maybe none given that she’d balked over the price of tomato juice, but apparently pride wouldn’t let her admit it.

He could understand that. Pride—and hurt pride—had caused him a lot of grief back in the day.

“You might as well stay here,” he said. His voice came out raspy and gruff, making the offer less than inviting even though he didn’t mean it that way.

Lia gazed across the property, taking in the small cottages hidden among the trees. Birds twittered in the gap before she spoke again. “I don’t want to disrupt your business.”

He snorted. “What business?”

“There are no guests?”

“We’ve got a few diehards scheduled for later in the season. I’m planning to have the place fixed up some by then.” He tried to soften his voice. “I can give you one of the cottages for as long as you need it. No problem.”

Lia closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, taking a breath through her nose. “We’d—I’d be so grateful.”

“I don’t need gratitude for doing what Rose would want.” Jake figured he owed his sister, not Lia. He drained the bottle and set it on the ground beside his chair, then resettled himself, stretching out full length with his arms folded behind his head. “Your car shouldn’t be on the road anyway. I took a look under the hood while you were at the store. You’ve got bad brakes. The struts need replacing. Front tires are bald, too.”

Lia’s face got that pale, drained look again. “That sounds expensive. I’m not sure the Grudge is worth that much repair. But I need a car.” She glanced his way. “Are you a mechanic?”

“Not as a profession. But I can do the work.”

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

“You didn’t.” He eyed her. How could one small woman be so uptight and wrung-out at the same time? He’d seen from the start that there was something off about her arrival. Through dinner, she’d hushed the kids whenever they’d mentioned their previous life, which had only called his attention to her evasiveness.

Jake wasn’t one to wait for explanations. But he sensed that Lia would bolt if he got too curious. This once, he could bide his time.

“What I meant was that I can’t pay you,” she said.

“I didn’t ask to be paid. We can figure something out. Do you have a job to get back to?”

“No.” She was studying her lap again. “I quit my job. I was actually hoping to find work up here.”

“In Alouette?” That explained the car stuffed with luggage and boxes. He’d figured them for heavy travelers.

“Maybe.” She shot him an arch glance. “Don’t worry. We won’t count on your generosity forever. Just until I get a paycheck and can find a place to rent.”

“It’s not so easy getting a job in this town. What do you do?”

“I’ll do anything.” She moved restlessly. “I don’t have specialized training or a degree. I managed only a few college courses after Sam was born, before Lar—” She cut herself off again. “Since the divorce, I’ve worked at several jobs. Supermarket checker, office clerk for a used-car dealer, waitress. I’ll find something.”

“Sure.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“It’s a small town. I can ask around for you, but I’ve been out of touch for too long. Been back only a few weeks.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ll go out tomorrow, first thing. There has to be some kind of job available for an untrained single mom.” She smiled bravely. Tension radiated off her.

He leaned forward. “No rush.”

“Maybe not to you, but I’m in a fix.”

“You said you’re divorced?”

“Yeah. For about three years now officially, but we were separated before that. I was pregnant with Kristen when we moved out of our house and next door to Rose. She was a good friend to me while I had the baby and went through the divorce mess. My ex fought it, so, uh, the process took a while.”

He sensed a world of complication in the brief explanation. He had some vague memory of getting the rare letter from his sister that mentioned Lia, but he hadn’t paid close attention to the details. Now he wished he had. Something about her engaged his interest more than other women. Maybe the fortitude he sensed beneath her exhaustion. If he ever got involved again, it would be with a woman who had staying power.

He continued to probe despite his usual disinterest in chitchat. “Don’t the wife and kids usually get the house?”

Lia winced. “Not always.”

“He was a son of a bitch, huh?”

“To put it mildly.” Lia glanced over her shoulder. “We’re well rid of him.”

Jake’s radar went ping. The look in her eyes…was it hunted, not haunted?

Stay out of it, man. “I’m sure you’ll be okay from now on,” he said, feeling as if he was mouthing a useless platitude.

She clutched her arms tight and shook her head.

“Yes, you will.” He’d see to it.

Jake bit back a groan. His resistance was low for damsels in distress. Always had been, even at age nine, when he’d attacked his own dad for yelling at his mother. He’d earned a cuffing for that, one that had taken out a couple of loose baby teeth.

“Right,” Lia said, worn out but taking hold. “Of course. We’ll be fine.” She cocked her head, listening to the sound of the TV inside the house, where her two youngest were ensconced on the couch. Behind them, Sam was hunkered down in the car, attached to her iPod, reclining in the backseat with her feet dangling out the window.

“We’ll be fine,” Lia repeated, trying to convince herself.

Jake got to his feet before he found himself offering not only a house but his left arm, too, if it’d take the trouble from her eyes. “We should check out the cottage. It might need freshening up.” Plus a bug bomb, mousetraps and a scrub brush.

He sniffed his hand, then held it out to Lia to help her up from the low-slung chair. She complied readily, though her small laugh sounded uncomfortable and she let go as soon as she was on her feet.

“Do I still smell of skunk?” he asked. He’d been cutting onions and squeezing lemons for the fish.

She grinned. “You smell like an especially pungent spaghetti sauce.”

“Great.” He pointed to the first cottage to the west of the main house. “Here’s the one you want. It’s the biggest.” As they walked by the car, Sam’s blue-tipped head popped up. She’d probably snap if he told her she looked like a blue jay.

Her glare bored holes into Jake’s skull, but he’d been glowered at by a two-star general with a Napoleon complex and hadn’t backed down. One sullen teenager could be conquered. Not that he had any intentions of getting involved in their lives beyond today.

“Thank you for being so sweet to Howie,” Lia said on the crumbling cement doorstep. “And the rest of us.” She held the creaky screen door while he put his shoulder to the wooden door that had swollen shut.

It flew open and Jake’s boot thudded onto the dusty floorboards. He coughed. “Sweet? What’s that? Hell, woman, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Lia wasn’t having any. “In case you didn’t notice, my son’s kinda dazzled by you. You’re like a G.I. Joe doll brought to life.” She continued past Jake’s snort of disapproval. “Anyway, I appreciate your tolerance. I’ll try to keep him out of your way as much as possible while we’re here.”

“He’s no trouble.”

She laughed drily. “You say that now, but just wait.”

Jake brandished a hand at the interior of the house. “What do you think? It’s not much, but at least there’s a working bathroom and two double beds.”

The cottage had a couple of rooms, plus the small bath. They’d stepped into the living room area, furnished by a thrift-store sofa and two of the rustic twig armchairs his father used to build in the off-season. Uncomfortable as hell for sitting. A couple of cabinets, a tiny sink, mini fridge and microwave made do as the kitchen. Thick stone walls and small paned windows overhung with ivy and climbing roses made the room seem dark and unappealing to Jake. He switched on the lone hanging light—a cast-iron chandelier with yellowed lampshades festooned with cobwebs.

Lia saw differently. “Oh, wow. It’s charming, Jake. A real storybook cottage.”

He drew a line through the dust on the floor. “Needs a good cleaning.”

“I can do that. In fact…” She poked her head inside the bedroom, where two iron bedsteads were pushed up against the walls, sparing only enough room for an old pine dresser and a night table with a birch-bark lamp. She withdrew. Her bright eyes fixed on Jake. “I can clean all the cottages for you. In return for rent, as long as we stay. Maybe even afterward, if you need me as part-time help. How does that sound?”

He bobbed his head. “Like a deal.”

Immediately he could see that the discouragement weighing her down had lightened considerably. She bounded forward and shook his hand. “Deal.”

He didn’t let go as easily as he had earlier. Maybe three seconds, that’s all it was, but color leaped into her cheeks and she made a breath-catching sound as she pulled away.

Jake resisted the urge to clench his fingers. He knew chemistry when he felt it. Taking on three kids and a single mom was bad enough, but that complication he did not need, unless it led only to a fast, uncomplicated lay. He was betting that a cheap lay was strictly off-limits with Lia. Especially with her kids around.

So back off now, man. You don’t need this.

Of course, that wasn’t what Rose had been saying since Jake’s return, with all her teasing about him following suit and finding a good woman and settling down. He’d claimed that her brain had turned into romantic mush because of the wedding, but maybe she had a point.

He was thirty-nine and regimented in his ways. If he was ever going to give the marriage-and-family thing a legitimate shot, it should be soon. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined hooking up with a woman with three kids, especially when everything about them spelled trouble. Yet there was a certain efficiency about the situation that suddenly appealed, regardless of his ingrained habit of detachment.

Maybe he was thinking crazy, but suddenly he saw that with Lia he might be able to skip all that romance and courting malarkey in favor of forming a mutually beneficial alliance. One tight family unit, based on function rather than emotion. Emotion wasn’t reliable. Neither was sexual attraction. He’d learned that the hard way.

Most women wouldn’t go for a practical union, even if they were in dire straits. But Lia had already learned marriage wasn’t pretty, and divorce even uglier. She might be ready to listen to reason.

Jake recognized that he was jumping the gun. Still, the notion wouldn’t let go.

One stop, no shopping.

A ready-made family.