Читать книгу Make-Believe Mum - Elaine Grant - Страница 8

“MICHELE!” JON SAID.

“Kaycee’s shy like Wendy,” Michele rushed on. “But Mrs. Hawthorn needs to know we have a mother so you can take care of us. Well, here she is and now you can.”

Mrs. Hawthorn narrowed her eyes and looked suspiciously from Kaycee to Jon and back to Kaycee. “Aren’t you the veterinarian?”

“Well, I…I…yes, I am a vet.”

“And you’re married to Mr. Rider?”

Jon looked at his four kids with a stricken expression. Kaycee recognized sheer desperation when she saw it. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his side, his strong arm squeezing the breath out of her so that she had no chance to speak. She could feel his body humming like a strand of barbed wire pulled too tight. Dangerous.

“We’re not married yet,” Jon said without hesitation. “But we soon will be.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Mrs. Hawthorn pressed, her skepticism obvious.

“You didn’t give me much chance,” he answered, then gazed down at Kaycee with adoring eyes that melted her to his side in spite of the tenuous situation—and the fact that the look was faked.

On her other side, Michele squeezed Kaycee’s hand so hard it hurt. There was no way she should involve herself in this family’s problems, whatever they were…. But there were three more little kids panicking behind her.

Kaycee held out her right hand—thank goodness she’d washed it already. “I’m Katherine Calloway.”

Hesitantly, Mrs. Hawthorn took it as if it might be contaminated, pulling away as quickly as she could. “And you plan to marry Mr. Rider?”

Kaycee swallowed hard. “We’ve been seriously discussing it lately. The children do need a mother, I agree. Everything will be back to normal before you know it.” Kaycee spoke carefully. She wasn’t exactly lying. She was only filling the role for a few minutes, until this social worker left. Then Jon Rider would have to figure out his problems on his own.

“I see. When?”

“When?”

“We have to get calving season behind us,” Jon said quickly. “But as you can see, Kaycee’s here today and between the two of us, the housekeeper and my oldest girls, we’ll make out until the wedding.”

Good line, Kaycee thought, but was the social worker buying it? She didn’t seem to have much of a case against Jon. If he’d kept his temper, the woman might have been gone by now. Kaycee’s gut feeling told her the children weren’t in danger of anything other than a messy house and a missing nanny, but she would make sure before she left.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to fix lunch for these hungry mouths.” Mostly, Kaycee wanted to escape before she said something wrong to cause Jon more trouble. And get the kids away from here.

Jon released her with a twitch of his lips before turning back to the social worker. “Now, if you’re satisfied, you can leave.”

Mrs. Hawthorn made a long note on her pad before looking up at Jon. “I’m not satisfied, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt since you have help. I am going to need four or five collateral references, Mr. Rider. People who can vouch for your character and fitness as a father.”

Jon shook his head in disbelief. “It’s bad enough you’re nosing around here. Now you’re wanting to spread this nonsense all over the community? Embarrass my children? Start some ugly rumor you can’t prove? I don’t think so.”

Kaycee gathered the children around her. Michele kept a tight grip on her hand. Wendy watched her warily, but the twin boys fought to grab her other hand. Mrs. Hawthorne took a business card from her notebook and handed it to Jon. “You really don’t have a choice. It could be a close relative. Dr. Calloway can be a reference. I’m not closing this case yet. I want to meet with you next week. Call to give me those references and make an appointment.”

One of the boys tugged on Kaycee’s hand. “We’re hungry. Come on.”

As they crossed the barnyard to the large ranch house, Wendy ran ahead and disappeared inside. Michele looked up at Kaycee and said, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. But what we did wasn’t exactly honest, was it?”

Michele shrugged, tears in her eyes. “We don’t want to leave Daddy. Daddy loves us. Why would that woman take us away?”

“I don’t know,” Kaycee said.

Behind them, an engine started and the social worker’s compact car eased down the road. Jon caught up to them.

“Michele,” he said, taking the child by the arm and pulling her aside. “You didn’t have any business dragging Dr. Calloway into our family problems.”

“I didn’t want that lady to take us, Daddy. I couldn’t think what else to do.”

“I’ll handle things next time. Go on in with the boys. I want to talk to Dr. Calloway alone.”

“But, Daddy,” one of the twins whined, refusing to relinquish Kaycee’s hand. “She just said she’d make us something to eat and I’m starvin’. Rachel’s been too busy to feed us since breakfast.”

“I’ll feed you in a minute.”

The look of disappointment on the boy’s face was more than Kaycee could take. “How about we all go fix a sandwich together?”

“Yeah, Daddy, please!”

Jon gave Kaycee a lingering look. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”

“No problem, I need lunch, too. Y’all lead the way. I’m right behind.”

The children’s faces brightened.

“What’s ‘y’ all’ mean?” the boy asked.

“That’s the way we say ‘you’ or ‘you all’ where I come from. You’ve never heard that before, huh?”

The kids shook their heads.

“Southern girl,” Jon commented, bringing up the rear.

“South Carolina, born and bred.”

“You’re pretty far from home. Like it out here?”

“It’s cold. But yes, I like it. I suppose you’ve always lived here.”

“Yep, grew up in this house. Went away to college because my dad insisted, did some bull riding on the rodeo circuit. He passed away fifteen years ago and most of the ranch came to me.”

Kaycee followed the brood through the back door into a utility area. Coats, caps and all sizes of shoes and boots were piled up in the corner nearest the entryway on the tile floor, scuffed and tracked with mud. Soiled clothes formed mountains on the washing machine and dryer. A rustic wooden bench stretched along one wall and floor-to-ceiling cabinets occupied another.

A doorway on the opposite wall opened into a great room. Action figures, toy animals, game pieces, coloring books and crayons, dolls and miniature clothing carpeted the floor of the sitting area. Broad windows across one wall framed snow-topped mountains and greening bottomland in pristine, orderly contrast to the shambles inside. Over the stone and wood mantel hung a large oil painting of the family. In a flower-strewn meadow, a youthful blond woman sat on the ground next to Jon, surrounded by the kids. As she gathered her brood close around her, her natural beauty and loving expression made her face radiant. Kaycee studied the picture for a long moment before moving on.

Wendy was already clearing the center island of plastic cups, plates crusted with dried food and a baby’s sipper cup. An only child, Kaycee grew up in a serene, immaculate home, but she felt sure seven kids could easily make this big a mess in a day.

“Excuse me a minute,” Jon said to Kaycee. “I need to wash up and make a phone call.”

He disappeared down a hallway. The twins scrambled to claim their stools from the assortment scattered around the large island. A copper hood encased in a brick wall covered a gourmet cooktop. Two ovens were set into the adjacent wall, with a microwave built in nearby. Michele opened what looked like a double-doored pantry, but turned out to be a restaurant-quality refrigerator with doors custom-made to match the kitchen cabinetry.

This kitchen was designed for somebody who loved to cook, but from the few items in the refrigerator, it hadn’t been overused lately. Kaycee looked around the island at the faces staring at her. Were these children being ignored, like the house? She hoped she’d done right by helping send off the social worker. If they were being neglected, she’d never forgive herself.

“Are you really going to be our mom now?” one of the twins asked eagerly.

Kaycee hesitated. “I think you’d better ask your dad about that.”

“Okay, I will,” he said with a decisive nod then tilted his head. “Can you bake cookies?”

“I can,” Kaycee assured him. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” he said innocently enough, but the look he gave his brother made Kaycee smile.

“I’m at a disadvantage here,” Kaycee said to the two boys as she worked. “Y’ all know my name, but I don’t know yours. You look so much alike, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

“I’m Zach,” the talkative one piped up. “This is my brother Tyler. We’re twins. But I’ve got a scar right here where I fell when I was learning to walk.” He pointed to a tiny blemish on his chin.

They were robust, cheerful, with curling dark hair and their father’s deep blue eyes. And identical other than Zach’s inconspicuous scar.

“We’re five years old,” Tyler offered. “Both of us. ’ Cept Zach’s three minutes older than me. My daddy said so.”

“And you’re Wendy.” Kaycee spoke to the quiet girl with straight blondish hair and somber brown eyes who nodded once then ducked her head.

“She’s shy,” Michele explained. “She doesn’t like to talk. She likes to read.”

“I see,” Kaycee said, smiling at the bashful girl. Wendy ignored her.

Michele put turkey, ham, mustard, mayonnaise, peanut butter and jelly on the counter. Then Kaycee made sandwiches according to the instructions from the girls. Wendy slid a paper plate in front of her for each one. Michele then took it, dropped a handful of chips onto it and passed it along the counter for distribution with the timed precision of an assembly line worker.

Jon came into the kitchen, looking and smelling much better than when he left. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, ridged with comb marks, and he wore clean jeans and a long-sleeved, thermal knit shirt that hugged his fit body like a glove.

“Thanks for getting started,” he said with a grin. “And for helping me out.”

“I’m not sure if I helped or made things worse in the long run. Mrs. Hawthorn won’t be happy when she learns the truth.”

“Well, maybe we can keep her in the dark for the moment, if that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t know. This worries me. We’re not playing a game. The ramifications could be serious.”

“Far from a game. I just need some time.”

Kaycee didn’t mind giving him time if it would help, but the thought of even a mock engagement didn’t set well with her at all. She’d been there, done the real thing in South Carolina. And then there was the question of the kids’ well-being. She wanted hard evidence that they were being cared for.

“Mrs. Hawthorn mentioned a baby with a fever.”

“Bo.” Jon put a gallon jug of milk on the table. “He’s almost three. Rachel and Samantha are upstairs with him. That woman was overreacting. Babies run a fever sometimes. If I thought for a minute it was serious, I’d have already taken him to the doctor. A little medicine, keep him quiet today. He’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Seven children, Kaycee mused. She took in his broad shoulders, the chiseled planes of his well-muscled chest under the shirt, his easy smile and dark good looks. Yes, Kaycee could see the lure of making multiple babies with Jon Rider. He might talk like a mother hanging around the carpool line exchanging fever remedies, but he sure didn’t look like one.

“Our mama’s gone,” Zach said. “Daddy takes care of us now.”

“I guess you heard, she passed away last year.” Jon’s words were matter-of-fact, but Kaycee detected the underlying grief in his voice. The loss of their mother reflected in the children’s eyes as they watched their father.

“I’m sorry,” Kaycee managed, not knowing what else to say. “You must be pretty self-sufficient,” she said to the children.

“We can take care of ourselves, ’ cept that old Mrs. Hawthorn won’t believe us,” Michele said. “She can’t take us, can she, Daddy?”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll talk about it later.” Jon pointed to a cabinet beside the refrigerator and said to Kaycee, “Would you pour the milk? Plastic cups are up there.”

Meanwhile, he parceled out the loaded paper plates to each child. He put a couple of plates on a tray along with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Bo, plastic cups, Bo’s washed sipper cup and the partial jug of milk. “Wendy, run this upstairs. Tell Rachel I’ll be there in a few minutes to check on them.”

“Yes, sir.” Wendy picked up the tray carefully and left.

Kaycee made a sandwich for herself and a couple for Jon with the remaining meat and bread. What would they eat tomorrow, she wondered, noting the pitifully empty refrigerator.

“No more milk,” Kaycee said to Jon. “How about water for us?”

“Sure. Let’s go in the other room,” Jon suggested.

They settled at a round table in an adjacent room. Quaint mullioned bay windows looked out over expansive grazing land running up the mountains. Jon sat back in his chair and exhaled a long sigh, contemplating Kaycee with a thoughtful expression.

“So, you’re to be my new wife, are you? And not a minute too soon.”

“Sorry, no mail-order bride here,” she replied. “Not my style. But I would like an explanation. I feel like I walked into the middle of a war zone.”

“So do I,” Jon said. “Talk about being blindsided. But, thanks for what you did. My live-in housekeeper left without notice and I need to find a new one.”

“No notice?” Kaycee said, between bites of her sandwich. “That’s not very professional.”

Jon shrugged a shoulder. “It happens. Seven kids are more than most housekeepers bargain for. I called everybody I knew yesterday, but no luck. Even called an agency in Bozeman, but from the way the woman snorted, I doubt they’ll be sending anybody my way. With that heifer calving, I didn’t have a chance to look this morning. Then, that damned social worker…I guess I should have expected something like this sooner or later.”

“Under the circumstances, I think I’m entitled to know why a social worker would be checking on the children. Are some of them stepchildren?” The twins’ eyes were a perfect match for the dark blue ones studying her now, but Michele and Wendy’s were chocolate-brown.

“No, they’re all mine. After my wife died, I let the children visit their grandparents in San Francisco, and my lovely in-laws tried to keep them. Filed a custody suit.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Why would they do that?”

“They think I’m not capable of raising the kids without Alison. They say I can’t take care of the little ones or give the girls a proper social life out here ‘in the wilderness,’ as Alison’s father calls it.” Jon’s face hardened, the light gone from his eyes. “Wouldn’t allow me near the house to even talk to my kids. Took me a month to get them home again, and a hell of a lot of money to fight that lawsuit.”

“It must be difficult managing with so many small children and a ranch to run,” Kaycee ventured. She didn’t want to make a judgment until she understood the situation.

Jon frowned and set his water glass down. “It is hard, damn near impossible sometimes. So what? Life’s hard. I’m supposed to give up my children because of that? Alison would turn over in her grave if I let somebody take those babies away from me. Never going to happen.” He leaned forward in his chair toward her, his jaw set. “And if you’re thinking they might be better off with their rich grandparents, living in the city, you’re wrong. They might be better dressed, they might have fancier food, they might be kept squeaky clean all the time—”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Let me tell you what they wouldn’t have,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They wouldn’t get the love that I give them. They wouldn’t have one another to depend on for support and attention because their grandparents are firm believers in boarding schools and au pairs. Alison would tell you horror stories of her life growing up…” Jon clenched the water glass with both hands and looked away, blinking.

Kaycee’s appetite gone, she laid the unfinished sandwich on her plate.

In the uneasy silence, he cleared his throat. “I won’t sentence my own children to that fate. She wouldn’t have wanted it and I won’t allow it. It’s as simple as that.”

But Kaycee knew better. “It’s not, is it? You’re still worried.”

He shoved his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. “The Arants are too wealthy for their own good. After their lawsuit failed, anytime I let the kids talk to them, they tried to use their money to lure them away from me. So I cut off communication.”

Only Kaycee’s paternal grandmother had survived long enough to be part of her life and she was dead now. Kaycee still missed her terribly. How empty her life would have been without Granny. No doubt Jon’s children were feeling a similar loss.

“Do you mean they can’t see their grandparents?”

“Can’t see them, can’t talk to them. Phone’s off limits to San Francisco.”

“Jon, that’s severe. How do the kids feel about it?”

Jon shrugged slightly. “I’m sure they miss Hal and Marjorie. As far as the kids are concerned, their grandparents are wonderful. But it doesn’t change what they tried to do to my family.”

“The children might not understand—”

“Daddy,” Michele said from the doorway, “we’re finished eating and the twins want to go out to play.”

Kaycee wondered how long she’d been standing there listening.

“Did you clean up,” Jon asked.

“Yes, sir, but the trash can is full.”

“I’ll take care of it. You and Wendy watch the boys for a few minutes.”

When Michele was gone, Jon nodded toward Kaycee’s plate. “You didn’t finish your sandwich.”

“I’m not very hungry.” She hesitated before asking, “Jon, don’t you think you could find some common ground? For the sake of the kids?”

“Not anymore.” He wiped his hands on his napkin then stood abruptly and picked up his plate. “Finished?” he asked, reaching for Kaycee’s.

“Yes, thanks. I’ve got it.” She took her glass and plate and followed him into the kitchen. “So what now?”

“I’m sure Hal turned in this complaint, and now I have my very own personal social worker. I wonder if he’s got a private eye watching me and knew the housekeeper quit or just lucked out on his timing?”

Jon put her half-eaten sandwich on a paper towel then forced their plates into the stuffed trash can under the sink.

“I called my lawyer earlier,” he said, transferring the trash to a large black garbage bag and tying the top. “Frank said he would try to get this case closed as unfounded. He strongly advised me to hold my temper next time, that Hawthorn could snatch the kids in a heartbeat, if she wanted to…and it could take months to get them back. That scares the hell out of me.”

“I wanted to tell you the same thing—about the temper,” Kaycee said, running hot water to wash the dishes. The girls had cleared the center island, but left the glasses and utensils in the sink. “My granny always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

Jon arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll try to remember that sage advice next time I see Mrs. Hawthorn. Be right back.”

He took the garbage and her uneaten sandwich outside, and Kaycee heard him whistle. Through the open back door she watched him divide the food between the two dogs. He came back and washed his hands.

“You don’t have to do the dishes,” he said. “I’ll put the girls to work later.”

“There are only a few left. Did you tell the lawyer we’re engaged now?”

He chuckled softly and snapped his fingers, then shot her a playful grin as he picked up a dishtowel and began to dry the glasses. “Darn, I forgot to mention that.”

“Come on, Jon, be serious. Maybe you should come clean and beg Mrs. Hawthorn’s forgiveness.”

“I haven’t done anything to be forgiven of—well, maybe dragging you into this. But that’s for you to forgive, not her.”

Kaycee shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be party to you losing custody of your children when she catches us lying.”

“Why does it have to be a lie?”

She jerked her head toward him in surprise. “I’m sorry…come again?”

“I mean, if we agree we’re engaged, it’s not for her to say we’re not. And if we decide to break it off later, that’s our business, too. Another one of those bad breaks in life that happen all the time.”

All the time, Kaycee thought, rinsing the last fork and drying her hands. Through the window above the sink, she stared at the distant mountains, the snow-blanketed peaks sparkling like a glittering postcard. She didn’t want to be reminded of those bad breaks—those reversals of fortune, as her ex-fiancé Brett had called them. The bastard. She hoped he and his new bride were happy. She sure didn’t want to go through that again, not here, when she’d just begun to feel at home. Not even make-believe.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea,” Kaycee said, her gut churning. “If news of this so-called engagement gets around town and you break it off as soon as you find a new housekeeper, I’ll be in an awkward position.”

Jon considered that for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. When the time comes, you can jilt me in Little Lobo, in the middle of Main Street at high noon. That way there’ll be no doubt who dumped whom.”

Kaycee still didn’t like the deceit. And a public breakup would be embarrassing for both of them.

“I really hate that I got caught off guard and let this happen,” he continued, drying the utensils as he talked. “But, will you just go along until I can call off my in-laws? I know it’s an imposition, but you don’t have to do anything physical.” Jon fumbled for an explanation. “I mean…”

Kaycee cocked her head, waiting for him to extricate himself. He wouldn’t look her way.

“I mean like coming out here or anything. We’ll manage fine.” He cleared his throat self-consciously. Still avoiding her gaze, he began to drop the forks and knives into the drawer beside the sink. “I don’t think it will get around Little Lobo anyway and we can let it die a natural death, this lie. I’ll tell the kids not to say anything. I’m sorry to put you in this position.” He gave her a quick, frustrated look. “I wouldn’t want you to…to…”

Kaycee bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. He was trying hard. Finally she let him off the hook. “I guess I’ll let it ride—for the time being anyway. Just hurry and get a housekeeper before we’re caught.”

Relief transformed the tension in his face to a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Kaycee. I guess we both have to get back to work and I need to check on Bo.”

“Um, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see Bo, since I vouched for him being okay to Mrs. Hawthorn. And I guess I need to know all my future children, just in case I’m questioned.”

“Sure, come on.”

The upstairs nursery was in much better order. The two preteen girls finishing their lunch looked up when Kaycee followed Jon into the room. One, a blonde with brown eyes, reminded Kaycee of the woman in the painting in the den; the other, a lanky girl with an unruly tomboyish, brown bob had her father’s eyes.

“Rachel, Samantha, this is Dr. Calloway, the new vet.”

The girls smiled at her and Rachel, the blond one, said, “Michele told us. Thanks for rescuing Dad. Is that nosy old biddy coming back?”

“Probably. If she does, don’t be rude to her. Understand?” Jon said.

Both girls nodded.

“How’s Bo?” Jon asked, moving to the side of the crib against the wall.

“He’s better,” Rachel said. “The fever broke a few minutes ago.”

Kaycee looked into the crib. A beautiful, chubby little boy slept peacefully, his thumb stuck in his mouth. Kaycee gently laid her hand against his cool cheek. “He’s a sweetie.”

“He’s a handful,” Jon said.

Jon brought the empty tray as they returned to the kitchen. Kaycee took the liberty of opening the refrigerator to examine the almost bare shelves.

“Jon, I have to ask, as the children’s pretend mother, what do you intend to feed them?”

“Well, let’s see.” Jon came to stand directly behind her, his nearness making her appreciate the cold air. “Hmm, that could be a problem. I swear I’ve gotten behind the past couple of days. Yesterday would have been the day the housekeeper bought groceries, but she quit on Thursday.”

He reached around Kaycee and opened the meat drawer. Empty. A few eggs were stashed in the door compartment, along with a small chunk of cheese. Jon scratched his head. “Well, I have stew frozen that I can heat for tonight. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for tomorrow, until I can get to the store. And we can get eggs from the henhouse in the morning.”

“We finished the loaf of bread. And no milk, either.”

Jon pulled a face. “Guess we’ll have eggs and stew for breakfast, too. I’ll pick up groceries while they’re in Sunday school.”

“What about the cook in the bunkhouse? Maybe you could borrow some bread.”

Jon chuckled. “Obviously you’ve watched too many reruns of Bonanza. Not many ranches have bunkhouses and cooks these days. Two of my hands are married and live in houses on the ranch. The three single men are bunked in another house closer to the grazing land. My foreman, Clint, lives a few miles from here. Don’t worry, we’ll manage on stew for breakfast. Some people have worse.”

“How about this. I’ll treat y’ all to breakfast in the morning—Southern style at my place.”

“You’re kidding. All of us? You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I’ll take my chances. I have plenty of room and I scramble eggs like a pro. Then you can go on with your plans afterward.”

“Kaycee, you don’t have to—”

“No, but I want to. Look, you need help right now. And I’m offering.”

From the surprised look on Jon’s face, Kaycee wondered if she had insulted him. Men could be like that. Then he smiled and nodded.

“Okay, then. We’ll be there. What time?”

“Around eight.”

On the way back to town, Kaycee had time to think about Jon’s predicament. She could see the grandparents’ position in a way. Seven kids, no mother, a harried father with a ranch to run and now nobody to look after the children. Of course they would worry. It should be none of her concern, Kaycee knew, but she couldn’t get the family out of her mind…. She couldn’t shut out Jon Rider’s rugged face and deep, smooth voice, either, as much as she tried.

And that surprised her. Brett’s unfaithfulness had left her with a bitterness and distrust toward men. What a rude awakening she’d had on the day of their wedding. Five years loving Brett—and her heart had been obliterated in two seconds, two sentences: “I don’t love you anymore. I’m going to marry Marissa.”

Since then, although she worked almost exclusively with men, she maintained a wide emotional distance from them, especially the wild cowboys she’d come across since she’d been out west. But something about Jon touched her…the concern he showed for the newborn calf he resuscitated…the love and pride in his eyes when he looked at his children.

In spite of that—or maybe because of it—Kaycee knew she should stay away from him. Jon Rider was trouble on the hoof.

AFTER KAYCEE LEFT, Jon called all the children except the napping Bo to the long table in the dining room where they once held family meetings. This would be their first one since Alison died. Staring for a long minute at the chair at the end of the table where she used to sit, he wished he could conjure her spirit to help him out.

“Okay, kids, I’m going to lay it on the line. We’ve got a problem and you need to know about it.”

“That social worker?” Michele said.

“Yes. Do all of you know what a social worker is?”

The older girls nodded.

Tyler shook his head.

“Mean,” Zach offered.

“A social worker is somebody who makes sure children are safe from harm.”

“Then why was she here? We’re safe. You wouldn’t let anybody hurt us,” Sam said. “Did you tell her that?”

“I tried. But, honey, the problem is that somebody else has told her I might hurt you.” He saw their surprise register. “I’m sure she doesn’t believe I would hit you, not that kind of hurt. But by not having a housekeeper to watch over you all the time, she thinks I might not be able to take care of you.”

“But Rachel takes care of us when you can’t,” Tyler said.

“I know, and she does a wonderful job, but she’s not a grown-up and the social worker thinks we need a grown-up.”

“I don’t mind, Daddy,” Rachel said.

“I know you don’t. But you have school and you need time to do things you like to do, not just do chores and take care of your brothers and sisters every day.”

“It doesn’t have to be Rachel all the time,” Sam said. “I know perfectly well how to babysit.”

“Fact is, in a couple of years, when Bo and the twins are older, we’ll be able to make do without a housekeeper. But right now, we need an adult here when the boys are home. I’ll find another housekeeper soon.”

Zach pouted. “I like Rachel better than any old housekeeper.”

“And…” Jon’s tone silenced Zach, but the boy crossed his arms across his chest in protest “…this time we’re going to keep her. There’ll be no pranks played and no backtalk. Absolutely no locking her in the basement.” Jon leveled a severe look at the twins. “Understand?”

The twins squirmed and exchanged worried looks. Everybody nodded.

“Then will everything be okay? When we get a new housekeeper?” Wendy whispered, on the verge of tears.

“Don’t cry, sweetie,” Jon said, holding out his hand. Wendy ran into his arms. He pulled her into his lap then addressed the others watching him intently. “Everything will work out. But this lady, Mrs. Hawthorn, may show up at school wanting to talk to you. It’s all right if you talk to her. If she asks questions, tell her the truth.”

“I don’t want to talk to her,” Zach said.

“Me, neither,” echoed Tyler.

“Listen, guys,” Jon said. “If you don’t talk to her, she might think something really is wrong and we don’t want that. Don’t let her upset you. I’m not going to allow anybody to separate us.”

“But, Daddy,” Michele ventured, “I heard her tell you she can take us away from you and make us live somewhere else if we don’t have a mother. Is that true?”

Jon tried never to deceive his children. In fact, being caught up in the charade about marrying Kaycee pricked at him. He should have shot that down when Michele started it—but the look on the kids’ faces, that fear deep in their eyes…. At that moment, he’d have done anything to protect them.

Quietly, he said, “Yes, it’s true. She has the authority to do that if she decides you would be better off somewhere else.”

“Where would she take us, Daddy?” Wendy sobbed.

“Maybe to a place like a hotel where other kids would be. Or maybe to stay with nice people in their homes until I could come get you. It wouldn’t be for long,” Jon said, careful to keep his own anxiety out of his voice. “But it’s not going to happen, okay? We’re going to convince her that we don’t need her anymore and she’ll go away.”

“I wish Mommy hadn’t died,” Wendy whispered.

“So do I, darling,” Jon said, lightly kissing the top of her head. He had never seen a paler bunch of kids and his heart hurt to see his children so frightened. “I know this scares all of you, but we can’t run from everything that scares us. We have to face our problems. We’ll make it though and we’ll be a stronger family in the end.” He wiped the tears from Wendy’s cheeks and kissed her forehead.

“But, Daddy, Dr. Kaycee said she’d be our mom. She said so,” Michele said, tugging at his sleeve. “Just get her to do it.”

“No, we tricked her into saying that. I don’t want you to tell anybody she’s going to be your mother. Not the social worker or your teacher or your friends. Do you all understand that? Until Dr. Kaycee decides for herself what she wants to do, you’re not to mention her name. If the social worker asks, tell her she has to talk to me about grown-up things. Everybody promise me you’ll do what I say.”

All around heads nodded, although Michele’s agreement was reluctant.

“I think we need to clean up the house, too,” Rachel suggested, “so the social worker knows we can take care of ourselves.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jon agreed. “From now on, we pick up our own things, every one of us. Bring dirty clothes to the laundry room. Put the toys away when you finish playing. Don’t leave wet towels on the floor in the bathrooms. Agreed?”

The kids bobbed their heads in unison.

“Good. Now who wants ice cream?”

Six hands shot up amid a chorus of “Me! Me! Me!” Jon set Wendy down and pulled the last two ice-cream containers from the freezer while Sam put bowls on the table. Rachel pulled out the drawer for spoons, but suddenly turned to Jon and threw her arms around his waist.

“It’ll be all right, Daddy. I love you.”

“Me, too!” Zach cried, flinging his arms around Jon’s legs.

Tyler did the same. “Me, three!”

Wendy, Michele and Sam came running and Jon sank to the kitchen floor amid a flurry of arms, legs and wet little mouths kissing his face. Which was good because that way they didn’t notice the tears in his eyes as he gathered them close and sent a silent prayer heavenward to help him keep his family together.