Читать книгу Single With Twins - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 11

The next afternoon Buzzy’s mother, Susie Jenkins, and Heather were in a used-clothing store, sifting through the jumble of merchandise on a large table. Melissa, Emma and Buzzy were playing in the corner of the shop, building a tower from wooden blocks.

Heather held up a T-shirt with a smiling Garfield on the front. “Melissa.” The next item she found was a pink top boasting a cute gray kitten with a white bow around its neck. “Emma.”

“Buzzy,” Susie said, showing Heather a shirt with a multicolored dinosaur.

“We’re on a roll,” Heather said, laughing. “The last time we were in here we came up empty.”

“Keep digging through the goodies,” Susie said, “but don’t stop with the story. What you haven’t told me is whether or not you like this Mack Marshall who showed up on your doorstep.”

“He’s…nice,” Heather said with a shrug. “It’s a little early to say whether or not I like him as a person, because I don’t really know him. I got all choked up because he brought me flowers, but that was silly of me. It was a lovely gesture on his part and no one has ever given me flowers before and—

“I think Mack is very sincere in his desire to get to know Melissa, Emma and me, to feel connected to a family…his family…us. I’m not sure why he’s determined to do that, but I believe he means what he says about wanting to do it.”

“Maybe it’s because he was shot and nearly died,” Susie said, holding a pair of jeans at arm’s length. “Too short. You know, his life passed before his eyes and—”

“Shot?” Heather interrupted. “Mack didn’t say anything about being hurt.”

“I read it in the newspaper at the library,” Susie said. “He was in…oh, I forget where…some war-torn country doing his photojournalist thing and he got shot. It happened about a month or two ago. I’m surprised he’s well enough already to be winging his way out here to meet you. They showed a file picture of him along with the article. Heather, that is one dreamy-looking guy.”

“Where was he shot?” Heather said.

“I told you. In some remote place—”

“No, no, I mean, on his…person. He wasn’t limping or anything. I mean, shot?”

Susie narrowed her eyes. “I think…yes, it was his shoulder, his left shoulder. He was saving an old couple from the rebel gunfire and—pow—Mack Marshall got shot. It took forever to get him the help he needed way out there, but the article said he was finally recuperating in a hospital in New York City.”

“He said he was on vacation,” Heather said, forgetting to look at the clothes.

“Well, gee whiz, Heather,” Susie said, “it wouldn’t be very macho for him to sit in your living room and go on and on about his boo-boo.”

“Getting shot is not a boo-boo, Susie,” Heather said, none too quietly.

“Who got shot, Mommy?” Melissa yelled from the play area.

“We’re just talking about a movie, Melissa,” Heather said.

“Oh.” Melissa placed another block on the teetering tower.

“Heather Marshall,” Susie said, laughing. “You just lied to your very own child. Shame on you.”

“I can’t tell the girls that Mack was shot,” Heather said. “It’s too violent, harsh, and they don’t really need to know.”

“Whatever,” Susie said. “But why are you so shook up about Mack Marshall being hurt? He obviously didn’t die. But I betcha when he thought he was going to buy the farm, he realized he didn’t have any family to bury him. It makes sense, don’t you think? He dug up the info on your husband, discovered you and the girls existed even though his half brother is deceased and—ta-da—he’s here in Tucson.”

“Yes, it does make sense,” Heather said, “but it’s rather disconcerting, Susie.”

“Why?”

“Well, I figured he was just bored. He’d gone through his father’s belongings, was curious about the half brother he never knew he had and wasn’t in the mood to lounge on an exotic beach somewhere so he came here to hang around for a few weeks. But…shot? That changes everything.”

“You’ve totally lost me,” Susie said. “Oh, hey, look at this frilly dress. Emma would love this.”

“Thanks,” Heather said, absently placing the dress in the pile of clothes she intended to buy. “Susie, listen to me. If Mack wants to be part of our family because he nearly died and realized he didn’t have anyone to call his own, that puts a tremendous burden on me and the girls. We have to be for Mack what he needs us to be, don’t you see? He’s not just filling idle hours, the man is on a very focused mission.”

“So?” Susie said. “What’s the problem with his wanting to be part of your family?”

“We have nothing in common. Nothing. Mack is rich, he’s famous, he’s a celebrity. Yes, I think he sincerely wants to know he has a family, but I figured once he spent a little time with us, he’d go merrily on his way, satisfied that he’d found his long-lost relatives. But if he’s wanting, needing, to really bond with us because he nearly died, it isn’t going to work.”

“You think he’ll leave and go back to being a jet-setting playboy,” Susie said.

“Oh, yes, he’ll leave, but I’m worried about the girls,” Heather said. “What if…somehow…they get the impression that we didn’t measure up to Mack’s standards? My girls are not dumb. It isn’t going to take many more conversations for them to realize that their uncle Mack is from a world far removed from ours. I will not allow my daughters to feel inferior in any way, shape or form, just because we don’t have a lot of money.”

“Heather,” Susie said, “I don’t think that Mack would do anything to make his newfound family feel inferior, for heaven’s sake. Besides, he’s with you on your turf, in your home, your neighborhood. Did he rave on and on about his house in New York City?”

“Well, no,” Heather said, “he just said he rented an apartment, and Emma told him he needed a dream piggy so he could save his pennies to buy himself a house.”

Susie laughed. “I love it. Oh, Heather, you’re worrying about nothing. Mack is recuperating from a gunshot wound. He’ll get better, then be on his way, knowing he has a family in sunny Tucson, Arizona. You’ll probably get a Christmas card from him in the future, and that will be that. The girls aren’t going to come to any harm by spending some time with the man.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Heather said, frowning. “But I’m definitely going to stay on alert whenever we’re with him. I’ll make certain the conversations don’t get centered somehow on how much money Mack has, the kind of lifestyle he enjoys, anything like that.”

Heather sighed. “Listen to me. Do you hear what I’m doing? I’m scared, Susie, that my daughters will look at me and want to know why we live like we do, when their uncle Mack, who is part of our family now, has so much more than we do. The problem isn’t with Mack Marshall, it’s with me.”

Susie put one arm around Heather’s shoulders. “I think you’re hitting the nail on the head, sweetie. As the teenagers say, ‘Get over it.’ You’re doing a wonderful job raising the girls and you should be very proud of what you’ve accomplished. Don’t be so sensitive about what Mack has and you don’t. Just enjoy his company when you’re together and before you know it, he’ll be gone. When are you supposed to see him again?”

“He’s taking us out for pizza tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” Susie said, “the guy is really throwing his bucks around, the rotten bum. Give Mack Marshall a little credit here, why don’t you? He’s not going to attempt to change your lifestyle, or stand in judgment of it, he just wants to be a part of it for a little while. Hey, send him over to my house. That hunk of stuff can eat crackers in my bed any night of the week.”

“Susie!” Heather said with a burst of laughter.

“Yeah, well, unlike you, my dear, I am not averse to marrying again. This single mother jazz is the pits. Buzzy needs a father and I need a lover. So there. I wish Mack Marshall was a long-lost relative of mine, let me tell you. You’re not biologically related, you know, so you two could—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Heather said, frowning. “I’m not interested in Mack as a man. He’s uncle to my girls and I’m not even comfortable with that for the reasons I’ve stated.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m the one with the problem about the differences in our tax brackets. But my girls consider the people on our little block their family, and we’re all in the same financial leaky boat. I’ll be glad when Mack leaves town and the girls and I can get back to living our nice, normal lives as we were, putting pennies in our dream piggy.”

“Unfortunately, that will happen all too soon, I’d guess,” Susie said. “Once Mack’s shoulder heals he’ll be long gone.”

“Amen to that.” Heather rolled her eyes heavenward. “I put the flowers he gave me in a pickle jar that still had the label on it, for crying out loud. Nothing like advertising to the oh-so-rich uncle of my daughters that I don’t even own a vase.”

“Forget it,” Susie said, wrinkling her nose. “Men don’t notice things like that. No way. Forget about the pickle jar. Mack never saw it.”

A pickle jar, Mack thought as he wandered through the large, enclosed shopping mall. Heather had put the flowers he’d brought her in a crummy pickle jar, for heaven’s sake. If she’d had a pretty vase, she would have used it. How was it she didn’t even own a vase for flowers?

Mack frowned and shook his head as he continued his trek through the mall. He stopped in front of a toy store and swept his gaze over the display in the window.

He was taking Heather and the twins out for pizza tonight, he mused. Heather had hesitated when he asked if they’d like to go to dinner so he’d quickly tacked on the idea of a casual pizza parlor, which she’d agreed to.

That meant, he was guessing, that Heather felt she and her daughters didn’t own fancy enough clothes to dine at a high-class restaurant.

And there he sat in Heather’s shabby little living room wearing slacks, shoes and a shirt that probably cost more than the sofa he’d been sitting on.

This whole scenario was wrong, very wrong. He was no expert on the dynamics of family, that was for damn sure, but the Heather branch of the Marshall clan had relatively nothing, while the Mack branch had more money than he could spend in a lifetime. He made big bucks and had invested well, could retire today if he wanted to…which he didn’t…but…

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it? A family didn’t consist of those who had and those who didn’t. Did it? Cripe, he didn’t know. He hadn’t paid the least bit of attention to the family structures of the people he knew. Not that he knew a lot of people who had families.

Oh, man, he was confusing himself to the point that he was tensing up and his shoulder was killing him. He needed a crash course on how to be part of a family, how to behave, what his role was, the whole bit.

Well, forget it, because that kind of information wasn’t readily available. He’d have to wing it. Yep, that was all he could do. He’d pay attention, try to figure out how to be a good uncle to the girls and a…a what to Heather? A brother?

The sudden vision of Heather’s lovely, smiling face caused a flash of heat to rocket through his body.

Nope. Brother wasn’t going to cut it, not even close. Granted, he’d already realized that hustling Heather into bed was not on the agenda. No way. But act like her brother? That was too far out in left field. Besides, he didn’t have any experience in being anyone’s brother, either.

So, okay, he’d be her… What? Her friend? Her buddy? Her pal? That wasn’t it. No. Heather was family. That still didn’t give him a clue as to how he should act around her.

He was just going to have to get very basic here. He was a man. Heather was a woman. He’d treat her with the respect she deserved and let the chips fall where they may. He’d keep his hands to himself and watch for any signals from Heather that she might be interested in him not just as a long-lost relative who had suddenly appeared in her life.

Yes, that was the ticket. Let Heather call the shots. If he ended up acting like her big brother—as nauseating as that thought was—so be it. He would do nothing to jeopardize his place in that little family. Nothing.

In the meantime, he thought, pulling open the door to the toy shop, Uncle Mack was going to get a surprise for those cute-as-a-button little girls. He had a handle on their personalities now, could do a lot better than showing up with candy suckers.

And, by damn, he was going to see to it that Heather Marshall never again had to put pretty flowers in a pickle jar.

Just before six o’clock that night Heather stood in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the back of her bedroom door.

She looked, she decided, presentable for going out for pizza. She’d French-braided her hair, which gave it a bit more style than just her usual plait. Her navy-blue slacks were fine, the place where she mended them covered by the blue-flowered overblouse. She’d even polished her loafers until they shone.

Heather sighed and sank onto the edge of the bed.

She wanted this evening to be over before it had even begun. She was nervous, unsettled, did not want to spend the following hours in the company of Mack Marshall.

Talking to Susie had helped her to sort through some of her jumbled thoughts. It had been months, even years, since she’d scrutinized how well she was providing for the girls. Melissa and Emma were happy, well-adjusted children, who never questioned their lifestyle, who believed in hopes and wishes, who put pennies in a piggy toward their ultimate dream of living in their very own house.

Her daughters had an extended family made up of the kind and loving people on this block. Melissa and Emma knew they were welcome in those homes, cared about, could go to any neighbor and get a hug, a Band-Aid or a drink of water if they needed it.

And now? In waltzes a real family member. The famous, rich-beyond-measure Mack Marshall, and his emergence into their lives was terrifying. Mack didn’t wear used clothing, nor live in a tiny little house. Mack didn’t have to pinch pennies, nor save them in a piggy. Mack could have anything he wanted just by writing a check or pulling out his wallet or producing a credit card.

If we’re all part of the same family, Mommy, why does Uncle Mack have so much and we have nothing? That’s not fair, Mommy, it’s not. How come we don’t have a bunch of stuff, Mommy—

“Stop,” Heather whispered to the voices in her head, pressing her fingertips to her now-throbbing temples.

Susie was right. Mack was on their turf, would sit in the living room of their home. Her twins, who couldn’t help but make comparisons, wouldn’t see what Mack had to be able to question what they didn’t possess.

Right?

Oh, dear heaven, she hoped so. It would break her heart if her children became unhappy, began to yearn for what never could be, saw their life and, thus, themselves, as being less than what they should be.

“Mack Marshall, go home,” Heather said out loud, getting to her feet. “Just go home and leave us alone.”

Oh, that was awful. Mack wanted, needed, to be part of a family, even for a short while as he recuperated from being shot. Shot, for mercy’s sake. What kind of a human being was she to be wishing he’d never shown up to stake a claim on his rightful place in their family unit? Tacky. Very tacky.

So, okay, she’d get through this. Mack didn’t intend to stay in Tucson very long, only a couple of weeks. She’d just treat him like a…a…what? Brother?

Heather looked at her right hand and remembered the incredible heat that had traveled up her arm and across her breasts when Mack held that hand in his strong but gentle one.

Brother was not going to work.

So, okay, they were…simply members of the same family…sort of. They were half ex-whatever-they-were people who…

Oh, who was she kidding? Mack was the most blatantly sensuous man she had ever met in her entire life. And she was a woman, a fact she’d rather forgotten, or taken for granted, until Mack Marshall had made her so acutely aware of her own femininity.

This, Heather thought, pointing one finger in the air, was not good. The mere thought of Mack caused her heart to do a funny little two-step and that disturbing heat to travel throughout her entire body.

Mack Marshall was…was—oh, hey, she had it now—he was Melissa’s and Emma’s uncle. There. That title was perfect. It meant thinking of him in terms of the girls rather than thinking about the disconcerting effect he had on her as a man.

“Uncle Mack is here,” Melissa yelled from the front door.

And so are the butterflies, Heather thought in self-disgust as she placed one hand on her stomach and made her way to the living room.

“He’s coming up the walk,” Melissa announced, then began to jump up and down. “And he’s got presents. He’s got presents with him, Mom.”

Heather narrowed her eyes and quickened her step to get to the door.

“Hi, Uncle Mack,” Melissa said after opening the front door. “Do you like my new shirt? It’s Garfield. See? I just got it today, and we washed it and stuff so I could wear it to go out for pizza, and Emma got a new dress, and we washed that too and Mom had to iron it ’cause it was all wrinkly, but she didn’t have to iron my Garfield. Aren’t you going to come into the house?”

“He can’t because you’re standing in his way, sweetheart,” Heather said.

“Oh,” Melissa said, stepping back.

Mack entered the living room just as Emma came running to join the group.

“Hi, Uncle Mack,” Emma said, stopping in front of him. “Oh, you’ve got presents. Is it your birthday? Are you going to open your birthday presents so we can see what you got?”

“No,” Mack said, smiling. “It’s not my birthday. These gifts are for you, and your sister, and your mother.”

Emma frowned. “It’s not our birthdays.”

“We’re celebrating that fact that it’s Friday,” Mack said.

“Why?” Emma asked.

“Why?” Mack repeated. “Well, because that means there’s no school for the next two days, which leaves you free to play, and that is something to celebrate.”

“It is?” Emma said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Uncle Mack just made it up for fun,” Heather said, looking at Mack intently. “You girls like school as much as you do playing on the weekend. Right?”

“I guess,” Melissa said, shrugging.

“Right, Mack?” Heather said, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh. Right. Sure. You bet,” he said, nodding. “I was just kidding. These gifts I brought are simply because I’m very glad to see all of you.” He handed one of the presents to Emma, another to Melissa, then extended a brightly wrapped gift toward Heather. “This one is for you, Heather.”

“Mack,” Heather said, accepting the package, “I really wish you hadn’t…”

“Can I open it, Mommy?” Melissa said, jumping up and down again. “Can I? Please?”

“May I,” Heather said absently, then sighed. “Yes, of course, go ahead and open your surprises.”

The girls sat on the floor and tore away the pretty paper.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Melissa said, popping up to her feet again. “It’s a new baseball mitt. Look at this, Mommy. It’s a brand-new baseball mitt.” She flung her arms around Mack and gave him a big hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can I go show Buzzy my new mitt, Mom?”

“No, honey,” Heather said quietly, “there isn’t time now. We’re going out for pizza, remember? You can show it to Buzzy in the morning.”

“’Kay.” Melissa pressed the mitt to her nose. “It smells so good. Oh, this is the bestest present I ever got in my whole life.”

“Oh-h-h,” Emma said after she’d unwrapped her gift. “A Barbie doll. A real Barbie doll.” She held it tightly, then got to her feet and hugged Mack. “Thank you, Uncle Mack. My Barbie doll is so beautiful. She’s the most beautiful doll I’ve ever had since I was borned.”

Mack chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you both like what I picked out for you. That makes me feel great, it really does.” He looked at Heather. “Aren’t you going to open your present?”

No, Heather thought, she wasn’t going to open her gift, she was going to run to her bedroom and cry for a week. Her worst nightmare was already happening. Her daughters had just declared the expensive gifts from Mack to be the very best presents they had ever received. A brand-new baseball mitt that smelled like the genuine leather that it was and a gorgeous Barbie doll. Brand-new…not used by someone else before the twins.

“Mommy?” Melissa said. “Aren’t you going to open your present?”

“What?” she said. “Oh, yes, of course, I am.” Heather sat on the sofa and a few moments later lifted a delicate crystal vase from the tissue paper inside the box. “Oh, my goodness. It’s…it’s lovely. I’ve never had anything so…” She cleared her throat. “Thank you very much, Mack.”

“Cool,” Melissa said. “Now you won’t have to put flowers in the pickle jar.”

“That’s the plan,” Mack said.

So much for Mack not noticing the dumb pickle jar, Heather thought miserably. And she had gushed over her gift just as much as the girls had…and she’d meant it. The vase was exquisite. And it probably cost more than she spent on a week’s worth of groceries.

“Get your sweaters, girls,” Heather said, placing the vase on the coffee table. “It will be chilly once the sun goes down.”

“Can I take my mitt with me to the pizza parlor?” Melissa said.

“Can I take my Barbie doll?” Emma said.

“Sure,” Heather said wearily as she got to her feet. “Why not? Run and get your sweaters.”