Читать книгу Between Honor And Duty - Charlotte Maclay - Страница 12

The second day of school and already Janice missed her children. It had been bad enough when Kevin had gone off to kindergarten, but then she’d had Maddie to keep her company. Now the silent house mocked the maternal trauma of sending her youngest child to school.

They were both growing up so fast.

She went into the laundry room to take the clothes out of the dryer only to discover the barricade of towels she’d arranged around the bottom of the washing machine had sprung a leak. A puddle of water spread out across the vinyl no-wax floor.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered. Ray was supposed to have fixed the plumbing months ago. She couldn’t go on indefinitely trying to mop up the mess. Eventually the flooring underneath would get wet and rot. She’d have to call a plumber.

The doorbell rang, and she rolled her eyes. Who on earth—

In a peevish mood, she marched to the front of the house, peered through the peep hole in the door, and suddenly her heart felt lighter. Forget her vow to become independent, to stand on her own two feet. She hadn’t felt this giddy since her high-school days when her prom date showed up, and it wasn’t entirely because she needed a handyman around the house.

Opening the door, she resisted the urge to hug Logan Strong. Barely. “You, sir, are an answer to a woman’s prayers.”

A wicked smile slanted his lips, and he arched his brows. “I am?”

“Absolutely. Assuming you know anything about plumbing and you’re here to work on my honey-do list.” Or take her out to dance the whole night through.

He laughed, that warm chuckle that seemed to rumble through his chest and skitter along her flesh like a tropical mist. “Darn, and here I thought you had something else in mind.”

Janice flushed. At some very conscious level, she had been thinking of something else—something forbidden—but she didn’t want to admit that, certainly not to Logan. “I’m sorry. I mean, you said you might come back to…”

“I meant to come a couple of days ago, but I was studying for the engineers’ exam that’s coming up soon.”

“Then you really don’t have to—”

“Fixing busted plumbing is one of my all-time favorite things to do.”

“It is?” She looked at him incredulously.

“Sure. It falls on my list of favorites somewhere between cleaning out backed-up sewers and crawling through an attic crawl space on a blistering hot summer day.”

Delight fluttered in her midsection at his teasing tone. When was the last time she’d actually had fun with a man? So long ago she couldn’t remember.

“Do you suppose there’s a way I could clone you? Renting you out to distraught housewives would solve all my financial problems.”

With a welcoming smile, she opened the door and he stepped inside. Although he wasn’t a giant, he was tall enough that she suspected he’d played high-school basketball. And he was lean, like a runner, with great shoulders and well-defined biceps apparent beneath the stencilled T-shirt he wore, a souvenir of a recent 10K run in Paseo. Today he was wearing khaki shorts. His knees weren’t at all knobby, she noted. Instead, his muscular legs were worth writing home about.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

A vivid imagination on her part. Or maybe she was suffering from an extended case of celibacy. Since Maddie’s birth, she hadn’t been much interested in sex. To her relief—and occasional dismay—Ray hadn’t pressed her. Now one look at Logan and that’s all she could think about—hot, sweaty bodies. His and hers. Tangled sheets. An explosion of—

What she needed to think about was the swimming pool the plumbing had created in the laundry room.

“The washing machine.” Her breath caught in her throat, making her voice sound husky. Hardly an appropriate reaction when discussing a home appliance. “The connection has sprung a leak. Ray was supposed to—”

“Show me.”

Mentally chastising herself for mentioning her late husband in a critical way, she led Logan to the laundry room off the kitchen. She told herself if Ray hadn’t been so busy with his second job, he would have fixed the plumbing. But deep inside she knew that was a lie. He’d never been good around the house. She’d had to beg to get a new garbage disposal installed. The paint was peeling on the outside of the house, but Ray had never been interested in sprucing up the place. Only the garden, with rosebushes and beds of annuals, looked nice. That had been her own doing. She’d sunk a shovel into the dirt herself, added mulch and whatever else it took to make flowers bloom. Ray hadn’t seemed to notice.

Just as he’d stopped noticing her.

Logan leaned over the back of the washing machine. “You’re right. Looks like the hose has developed a split and the clamps are corroded. I’ll need some parts from the hardware store.”

“I can pay—”

“No, I’ll take care of it. It’s the least I can do.”

His odd tone sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “Why is it the least you can do?”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “I was on the roof with Ray when he fell. I owe him…and I owe you.”

Janice’s stomach knotted on that news. She hadn’t asked the details about Ray’s death, hadn’t wanted to know. And didn’t want Logan here out of obligation. But she did want him here. His presence pervaded the house with a new energy, a force that was more than simply filling the silence that had been troubling her. He radiated strength of character. Competence. And a subtle sexual power she couldn’t remember experiencing before.

The uncomfortable knot tightened in her midsection, and she couldn’t find the words to respond to his comment. Instead, she said, “I have to go pick up Maddie from kindergarten in a couple of minutes.”

He shoved aside the pile of towels she’d used as a dam. “Leave this Johnstown flood to me. Once I get the parts, it won’t take long to fix.”

She met his gaze, his eyes a deeper hazel than usual, almost brown, and unreadable. Or at least she didn’t want to translate the message she saw there for fear she’d be wrong and make a fool of herself.

“It won’t take me long to pick up Maddie. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. The tools are in the garage if you need them.” Janice fled. She’d never thought of herself as a coward. But she couldn’t describe her flight in any other terms.

At some very basic level, Logan frightened her. Or more accurately, her reaction to Logan scared the bejeebers out of her. She’d never felt this way about any man, including Ray, with hot and cold shivers racing across her skin, the confusion that should be limited to inexperienced adolescents. She’d been a married woman for almost ten years. Such nonsense, so many raging hormones, should have been well behind her.

Minivans didn’t usually burn rubber. But Janice wheeled out of the driveway so fast the tires squealed. Within two blocks she slowed, realizing she’d never be able to outrun her own wayward thoughts.

Junipero Serra Elementary School was a relatively new one, a sprawling one-story complex with two big play yards. Because of population growth, however, the school district had added four trailers for additional classrooms and there was talk of developing a new school on the north side of Paseo del Real to take the pressure off existing facilities. Taxpayers weren’t thrilled with the idea.

Janice parked the van and walked toward the separate building that housed two classes of kindergartners. Smiling, she acknowledged other mothers who’d come to pick up their children, some of them pushing strollers or holding the hand of a toddler. Regret slid through Janice’s chest at the thought she’d never have another baby to hold in her arms. Thank God Maddie had come along despite Ray’s insistence that one child was enough.

The adjacent play yard for the kindergarten children had one corner blocked off with a yellow tape where a three-foot-deep construction pit had been dug to install a new piece of play equipment. Vaguely, Janice wondered if that bit of construction wouldn’t have been better and more safely accomplished during the summer vacation. A yellow tape, like those used around crime scenes, hardly seemed strong enough to keep out curious children.

Like a cork on a bottle of champagne popping, the classroom door flew open and a stream of five-year-olds burst free. Maddie was in the middle of the swarm. She made a beeline for Janice and flung herself into her mother’s arms.

“Mommy!” she sobbed.

Kneeling, Janice caught her daughter. “What is it, sweetheart? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed and tears tracked down her cheeks.

“Then what—”

“Hello, Mrs. Gainer.”

Seeking an explanation for her daughter’s distress, Janice looked up at Miss Sebastian, the kindergarten teacher. Her youthful complexion and pert ponytail made her look as if she should still be in high school, not a second-year teacher.

“I told the students this morning about Daddies’ Day in our classroom next week. I like to involve their fathers as much as I can in the children’s education. I’m afraid that’s what upset Maddie.”

Janice drew a painful breath.

“My daddy’s dead.” Sobbing, Maddie mashed her face against Janice’s shoulder.

“I tried to explain that grandfathers or uncles would be welcome, or any man who is special in their lives.”

Standing, Janice lifted Maddie, and the child hooked her legs around Janice’s waist. Her heart was breaking for her daughter. She hadn’t realized Maddie’s grief was still so raw. She was such a happy child, but now it was obvious the wound had only healed on the surface. Down deep, she was still hurting. Janice should have realized a month wouldn’t be nearly long enough for her children to adjust to such a drastic change in their lives.

“I’m afraid our family is all in Missouri,” Janice explained.

“Quite a few of the children don’t have a father at home, or their father works at a job where he can’t get off. Maddie won’t be the only child without someone here that day. I’m sorry.” Despite her youthful appearance, Miss Sebastian looked sincerely apologetic. “It had slipped my mind that you’d lost your husband so recently.”

“We’ll work out something. Maybe she can bring his picture—”

“No! I want my daddy!”

Pursing her lips, Janice hugged her daughter more tightly and fought her own tears. “Let’s talk about this at home, honey. Okay? Logan Strong is there fixing our washing machine.”

Maddie sniffled. “’Kay.”

Janice gave the teacher a weak smile. “She’ll be all right.”

“I am sorry—”

Nodding, she carried Maddie out to the van. No doubt this would be just one of a long list of adjustments she and the children would have to make over the coming months and years. But they were strong. All three of them. They’d come through this just fine. Janice would see to that.

BY THE TIME Logan returned from the hardware store, Janice’s van was back in the driveway. He parked out front and walked to the side entrance, carrying the supplies he’d purchased to repair the washing-machine hose.

The house showed lots of signs of deferred maintenance—peeling paint, bubbling stucco where water had seeped up from the ground, a swing out back with a broken chain. No doubt Janice’s honey-do list could keep him busy for years.

A chance to see her smile or hear her laugh would keep him coming back even longer if he allowed that to happen. Which he wouldn’t. Helping her transition to single mother was his only goal. Plus easing his own sense of guilt for not having acted to save Ray’s life, he admitted.

He rapped on the door before stepping inside.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Janice stood at the kitchen counter making a sandwich.

“Yep.” He held up the four-foot-long rubber hose he’d purchased. The necessary clamps were in a small sack he carried.

Maddie sat at the kitchen table, her chin propped on her elbows. She looked as though she’d had a really hard day at school.

“You want a sandwich before you start?” Janice asked. “I can give you a choice of peanut butter or tuna salad.”

“I’m having peanut butter and jelly,” Maddie said with a minimum of enthusiasm.

“Why don’t I work on the washer first? It won’t take me long.”

He went about the business of pulling the washer away from the wall so he could disconnect the old hose. Within minutes he sensed Maddie standing behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s up, sprite?”

“Nuthin’,” she said glumly. “How come you call me sprite?”

“Because I think you’re cute and bubbly.”

She watched silently as he pulled off the old hose and connected the new one. As he attached the first clamp and started to tighten it with a screwdriver, he felt vaguely pleased she was interested in what he was doing. He remembered watching his father—

“Would you be my daddy?”

His head snapped up, nearly giving him a whiplash, and the screwdriver slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. “What did you say?”

“I want you to be my daddy.” She stood there with big brown eyes, as serious as an old woman.

“I think your mom might have something say about that.”

“Say about what?” Janice asked, returning to the kitchen from wherever she’d been.

“Logan’s going to be my daddy.”

His gaze collided with Janice’s. Her cheeks were turning as pink as his felt. “I don’t know where she got—”

“Maddie, honey, I don’t think Logan wants to—”

“But it’s only for one day!”

His gaze dropped to the child. “What are we talking about?”

Janice stepped forward, looping her hands over her daughter’s shoulders and pulling the child back against her, holding her snugly against her own body. “Her teacher invited the children’s fathers to a Daddies’ Day at school next week. Maddie got terribly upset she didn’t have anyone to bring.”

“Oh.” Odd how he wished Maddie’s request had been for something more permanent. “Guess that is a problem.”

“Not if you’ll be my pretend daddy.”

“Honey, Logan may have work that day, and even if he doesn’t, he may have other things he wants to do.”

Maddie’s lower lip jutted out, and her eyes filled with tears.

Janice was providing him with all the excuses he could possibly need. But Logan couldn’t turn down Maddie’s request, not with those big soulful eyes pleading with him to be her daddy, if only for a few hours. Hell, no man would be able to resist such a tempting little minx.

He worked his way out from behind the washing machine and crouched down in front of her. “What day are we talking about?”

“Miss Sebastian said Wednesday.”

Logan touched the tip of Maddie’s nose with his fingertip, leaving a greasy smudge. “Well, you tell your Miss Sebastian I’ll be there with bells on.”

Maddie’s eyes lit up and she threw her arms around him, giving him a gigantic five-year-old hug. “I knew you would ’cause firemens are special.”

A lump filled Logan’s throat, so big he could barely swallow, and a band tightened around his chest. Among all the experiences he’d miss by not marrying, the thought of never having children hurt the most. Still, it was a choice he’d had to make after his one attempt at marriage.

Concerned he might be overstepping his bounds with Maddie, he glanced at the child’s mother. Janice’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

His tension eased, and he relaxed his hug around Maddie’s small body.

Clearing her throat, Janice said, “How about you change out of your school clothes, young lady, and let Logan finish up with the washing machine. We don’t want to keep him here all day.”

As though she hadn’t been down in the dumps only moments ago, Maddie broke free of the hug, her smile radiant. “I’ll change. Then I’ll come help him. I helped him real good on the screen door.”

“You certainly did,” Logan agreed, regret gnawing through him for what couldn’t be.

Janice rolled her eyes and leaned back against the doorjamb as her daughter ran off to change clothes. The child had more resilience than she did. More nerve, too.

“I don’t want Maddie imposing herself on you, Logan.” Janice had done plenty of that herself. “In time she’ll get used to—”

“It’ll be fun visiting her kindergarten. I like kids.”

He was wonderful with them, too, she mused. “I feel guilty taking you away from your own activities. Like studying for your engineers’ exam.”

“I’ve been studying for months. I could use the break.”

“When’s the test?”

“Two more weeks.” Reaching down, he picked up the screwdriver, rolling it back and forth in his hand. He had long, tapered fingers, almost like an artist’s. Hands that had been ever so gentle with her daughter. Just as his words had been.

“I gather you’re ambitious?”

“My dad retired a year ago as a fire captain right here in Paseo. His shoes are big ones to fill, but making engineer is the next step. My brother and I are in a race to see who makes captain first.”

“Who’s ahead?”

“Derek’s on the promotion list now for engineer in Merced. I’ll have to ace both the written exam and the oral to have any chance of making the grade before he does.”

“Somehow I think you’ll do just that.” She shoved away from the doorjamb. “Here I was trying to get Maddie to stop bothering you, and now I’m the one bugging you with questions.”

“You’d never bug me, Jan,” he said softly. “Not ever.”

A tremor of pleasure rippled through her. “I think I should…that is…” She stumbled over her words, her unruly thoughts tangling with her good sense. “I’m going to go wash Ray’s car and vacuum it. I’m putting an ad in the paper and hope to sell it this weekend. We still owe quite a bit on the loan. Owning a convertible is one expense I can do without.”

“Sounds like a smart move to me. You know how to price it?”

“I checked the Blue Book.”

“Good for you.” Nodding his approval, he eased back behind the washer, crouching down out of sight.

Deliberately, Janice turned away. She wasn’t going to make a big deal out of Logan’s kindness to her daughter, or fantasize about the intriguing timbre of his voice and how it raised gooseflesh along her spine. Or even how Logan, unlike her husband, seemed to think she had enough intelligence to make a reasonable decision.

She was a recent widow. Logan obviously felt a loyalty to her late husband. That was all she had a right to expect. She shouldn’t go looking for trouble.

Backing Ray’s Chrysler convertible out of the garage, she parked it in the driveway. The car had been an extravagance in her view, but Ray had been insistent. The symptom of a mid-life crisis, she supposed. She’d given in easily enough. He worked hard and deserved a little fun. Admittedly, it was a spiffy car—fire-engine red with a glossy finish. But for her and the children, the aging minivan would do fine.

She got the hand-held Dustbuster from Ray’s workbench. With the top down, it was easy to climb in and out of the car. She started with the driver’s side, trying not to picture Ray sitting there, smiling so broadly because he’d gotten a new toy. Teasingly, he’d called the convertible his “pickin’ up chicks” car. She hadn’t been particularly amused.

She tossed the floor mats onto the grass to wash later. The Dustbuster inhaled the collection of dirt and sand easily, and she worked her way across to the passenger side. She checked the glove box, setting aside the registration and the owner’s manual, vacuumed the carpeting on that side of the car, then climbed into the back seat.

The upholstery looked virtually pristine, no wear and tear evident at all. Thinking she ought to get a fairly good price, considering the car’s condition, she ran the vacuum beneath the front seat. When she brought the vacuum back into view, a piece of purple fabric dangled from its mouth.

She switched off the power and sat up on the seat staring at the swatch of nylon material. Her stomach knotted in apprehension. Slowly she pulled the fabric free.

Thong panties!

Could there be any innocent reason for another woman’s underwear to be in the back seat of Ray’s car?

Nausea rose in her throat. Could she have been so stupid, so naive as not to know Ray was having an affair?

She got down on her hands and knees, feeling around under both front seats. Her fingers closed over a small plastic tube. A lipstick.

Mango Madness! Never in her life had she worn that shade of lipstick. It would make her look like a hooker.

Trying to breathe against the pain that speared through her chest, she closed her eyes. To her dismay, she pictured a woman who had been at Ray’s funeral service. A stranger. Long blond hair. Dark glasses. Shockingly bright orange lips.

Outrage warred with the knowledge she had failed as a wife. As a woman.

Stomach heaving, she bolted from the car, collapsing on the grass near the flower bed she had so lovingly tended. She breathed deeply, desperately trying not to be sick.