Читать книгу Real Marriage Material - Jodi O'Donnell, Jodi O'Donnell - Страница 10

I must be out of my ever-loving mind, Jeb thought.

After Robin left, he stood for a few moments, fingers of one hand tucked in the back pocket of his jeans as he rubbed the palm of his other hand across his forehead, painfully aware that he was about to step way out of his comfort zone. Mariah was silent

He squinted at the sky, the waning light making it a pale robin’s-egg blue at its apex, the wispy clouds with their flamed undersides kicking up from the horizon like waves left in the wake of a boat.

“Let’s take a walk,” he announced, then in after-thought glanced down. “Or maybe not. Where I’m thinkin’ of. going is kind of uneven in places, and those shoes of yours don’t exactly look to be made for a hike along the lake.”

“Lead on,” Mariah said gamely. “These flats will hold up.”

“Fine.” He wasn’t about to talk her out of it. If she wanted the opportunity to put her two cents in, then she needed to know what she would be getting into.

With Lucy shadowing them, they tramped down to the lake, then south along its rocky edge to a cove with a beach of sorts. There, Jeb dropped to a crouch and picked up a stone, rubbing its flat, smooth surface with his thumb. Perfect for skipping.

Lifting his arm to the side, he flicked his wrist, sending the rock flying. It leapfrogged across the water—one, two…five skips in all.

“I’m impressed,” said Mariah, watching from her spot a few yards away.

He cut her a skeptical, sidelong glance, wondering if she was thinking such tactics would work on him—again. He couldn’t tell; dusk was falling more quickly than he’d gauged, and Jeb became singularly aware he was alone with this woman in the burgeoning twilight.

“My personal best is nine skips,” he said obligingly enough. “It’s something I’ve always had a knack for. It used to irk Cody something terrible….” He peered into the darkness. The explanation wasn’t going to be easy any way he did it.

“Who’s Cody?” Mariah asked in that cultured drawl of hers he found almost mesmerizing.

Not looking at her, he answered, “My older brother— Robin’s dad. He never was the outdoors buff I am. Or Wiley is. I didn’t realize until years later that he must have felt like a fish out of water around us.” Gesturing toward the lake, he gave an ironic snort at his comparison before sobering and going on.

“But Cody found his calling, eventually. Got a scholarship and went to A&M to become an engineer. So now the ugly truth comes out.” Jeb paused dramatically. “Yes, I am the brother of an Aggie.”

She gave a soft chuckle but wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “What happened to him, Jeb?”

It was the first time she’d said his name, and it sent a shaft of that yearning he’d experienced previously shooting through his very vitals, making him believe more than ever that nothing good would come out of this interview.

He must remember, he was doing this for Robin. But he didn’t have to tell Mariah everything, he reminded himself.

“Cody and his wife, Lisa, died in a car crash a little more’n four months ago,” he said, forcing the words out “I got custody of Robin. Right now I’m what the lawyers call Robin’s temporary managing conservator.” He pronounced it distinctly, carefully. “But I’m hoping to adopt her. That was to be decided once she’d lived with me six months.”

He picked up another stone, tested its feel in his palm and discarded it. “Anyway, I knew if she got to live permanently with us two bachelors that there’d come a time when she’d need a feminine influence. A girl should have a mother, y’know.”

“Of course, if it’s at all possible. But do you think the court would take Robin away from you merely for lack of such influence on her?”

“Up to a few weeks ago, I didn’t think so. Now there’s more to the situation, you see,” he went on with reluctance. “We were served with papers saying Lisa’s half sister was coming forward to intervene for custody and adoption of Robin.”

The thought of that action—and the implied impetus behind it—still had the power to upend Jeb’s better judgment and raise panic in him, which he beat back with the aid of the indignation the situation unfailingly roused in him. With superhuman effort, he made himself go on, to tell Mariah the story.

But it would not be the whole story.

“Anita Babcock,” he said flatly, “is Lisa’s half sister. Her husband—he’s an engineer, too, like Cody was, I guess—does some kind of work for an oil company that took them out of the country up until recently, but now they’re back in the States to stay, or so I’ve been told. The judge kept the adoption hearing for June, even with the Babcocks intervening.”

With sudden intensity, he jabbed a twig into the ground, almost to poke it into the heart of his dilemma. “From what the lawyer I hired tells me, as things stand right now, it could go either way. I could get Robbie—or Lisa’s half sister could. I’ve definitely got the biggest advantage, with her livin’ here with me and Wiley since Cody and Lisa died. But it’s not like they named me Robin’s guardian, which would have sealed the deal for sure. And Anita and her husband are already raisin’ a couple of kids of their own, have the ability to give her all sorts of advantages— private school, lessons in just about anything Robbie might take a fancy to, travel, exposure to all sorts of experiences. Put that kind of home life up against the one I’m providing, and what would you decide if you were a judge?”

“I see…” Mariah frowned, her gaze distant, searching.

She still clutched her black leather organizer in her arms. He wondered if she ever went anywhere without it, and couldn’t imagine being so tied to a schedule. Perhaps that was part of his problem, as she’d indirectly suggested, this reluctance to adapt to changing circumstances.

“And I gather from what you said earlier,” she continued, “about your not being interested in getting married, that there’s no one you’re even seeing whom you might eventually consider…that is, for the judge to acquire some confidence you’d ultimately…” Her voice trailed off awkwardly.

“I take your meanin’, and you’re right,” he said with a calm he didn’t entirely feel. “I’ve known some women I’ve liked real well, and it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that I’d find one some day that I’d want to settle down with, even given that my occupation doesn’t afford much opportunity for socializing. After all, you can’t tell what’s bitin’ till you test the waters. But things are different now—”

Jeb broke off. No, there was no reason Mariah Duncan needed to know this part of his predicament. No way was he going to discuss it with her, because it was the one aspect of this whole situation that had the least chance of being addressed.

Lucy, who’d left to forage in the brush on the water’s edge, came trotting back over to see if he’d found anything more interesting, and Jeb occupied himself with locating a stick to throw, as if that were the reason he’d interrupted himself.

Again, though, Mariah wasn’t buying his evasion. “How are things different now?” she asked with that sincere interest that pulled at him with tidal strength.

He chucked a short piece of driftwood into the water and watched as Lucy jumped in after it. He lifted one shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I feel it’s my duty that whoever I eventually marry should be a woman like my sister-in-law was.”

“And what was that?”

“Oh, you know—” he gestured vaguely “—a woman like yourself, brought up to be a lady, knowin’ what’s proper, who’d want to pass on such sensibilities to her daughter.”

Jeb cleared his throat. He had never intended to stray into such deeply personal territory. And yet somehow he had.

“I don’t mean to sound like Lisa couldn’t let her hair down,” he continued doggedly. “She was…genuinely nice. But it’s not like that kind of woman would come lookin’ for me.”

Oh, but he was glad for the fading light now! He’d wanted to get that out, state the obvious to let Mariah know he knew the score. But when she didn’t respond immediately and the silence stretched on, Jeb grew annoyed—with himself. Well, what did he expect? That she’d protest, say that of course women from all walks of life considered redneck fishing guides prime marriage material?

“Of course, even if a woman like that did come around, it wouldn’t be right to marry someone just for the sake of marry in’, regardless of my duty to Robin. And the truth is, I don’t find that sort of woman, on the whole, real riveting, if you get my meaning,” he put in pointedly—and not altogether truthfully.

Another lull pervaded the air between them as Mariah did not immediately respond. Jeb slapped at a mosquito, resolved he would reveal no more to her.

Finally, her voice distinctly strained, she said, “At least I can see now why you considered your uncle’s calling Saved by the Belle to be an oversimplified answer to your predicament.”

“Yeah, well. That’s Wiley,” Jeb said. So he’d made her uncomfortable with his indirect judgment of her. Welcome to the club, he thought, for he’d gotten an answer from her nonanswer. No, it didn’t seem Mariah Duncan saw any way he might proceed from here. He couldn’t help feeling aggravated, especially after she’d made such a big deal about hearing all the details. But she couldn’t help him, not with this. He was on his own, just as he had thought.

Yet he couldn’t prevent himself from feeling again the apprehensive tightening in his chest he’d experienced upon seeing his niece interact with Mariah. It was as if, even in that brief contact, there had passed between them something he could never fully understand. It struck him that Robin hadn’t always been such a tomboy, had really only become so since moving to Texoma to live with him and Wiley.

Abruptly he stood, knee joints popping. “It’s late. You’d better start back to town before you lose every scrap of daylight. I know you got here fine, but it won’t be so easy in the dark.”

Not waiting for her concurrence—or actually not wanting to answer any more of her questions—Jeb left her to follow as best she could as he led the way back up the path and to her car. He did think to wait politely while she unlocked her door, and opened it for her with as much decorum as a man could muster while dressed in an overripe T-shirt and grungy jeans.

“Thank you again for driving out here,” he told her formally.

“It was no trouble,” Mariah answered, her voice subdued, as if she were a million miles away. She probably wished to be shed of him and this place, and again he wondered why she had even bothered to find out more about his situation with Robin.

He tried not to bear Mariah Duncan ill will. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Wiley had called her here on a wildgoose chase. It wasn’t her fault, either, that their problems couldn’t be solved with one phone call.

“I hope you know my uncle’s intentions were good. And I apologize for being unsociable toward you at first. I just didn’t see, even then, that there was much you could do to help.”

“I…I understand.” Dropping her chin, she brushed the toe of her shoe through the twig-strewed dirt. “So what will you do about your situation?”

“That’s the poser, isn’t it? I’ll keep on as I am already, I think, and just hope for the best. Let Robin know that Wiley and me…I…are her family and this is her home for as long as she needs it to be.” He let his own gaze fall, thinking of his brother. “That we love her, which will never change. What else can I do?”

“What, indeed?” he heard Mariah murmur speculatively. Or was it skeptically?

“I mean,” he continued, his tone defensive, "I know I could concentrate on givin’ Robbie more occasion to act like a girl than a boy. I could stop calling her Robbie, for one,” he admitted with a wry twist of his mouth. “And not encourage her so much to join in runnin’ the business, even if she has taken to it like a fish to water….”

This time he didn’t find his pun amusing.

As if reminded by his remark, Mariah said, “Oh, about Robin’s request. What if I mailed her a book I have that shows how to do all sorts of braids and hairstyles with long hair?”

He was again surprised—and pleased. She hadn’t forgotten his niece. “Robbie—Robin, I mean—would like that.”

“You might help her at first, since it’s easier if there’s someone back there to hold the different sections of hair. That is, if you felt comfortable with that sort of thing.”

Jeb shrugged. “How much more difficult could it be than snelling a hook?”

That brought out her smile, fleetingly, and the constricting band around his chest eased ever so slightly.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t begin to know,” she answered.

He knew Mariah hadn’t been serious about him teaching her to fish, but Jeb suddenly wished for that opportunity to do so, because if there was one thing he did know backward, forward and sideways, it was fishing.

In that way, he and Mariah were alike, both involved in service businesses. But that was where the similarity ended. His responsibility was to produce tangible results; hers…not so apparent or defined. He felt he had the easier job of it.

“You know, I almost feel obligated to change the name of my business if I’m to adhere to truth in advertising,” Mariah said.

It was as if she’d read his mind. “Well, it is just a name,” he reminded her. “I bet you wouldn’t find everything for fishing or camping at Bubba J.’s.”

For some reason, she brightened at that, even gave a low, feminine, silvery laugh that oddly seemed to fit right in with the increasingly distinct night sounds around the lake.

But she wasn’t here to fit in, which was as it ought to be.

“I’ll wish you good luck, then, Saved by the Belle.” He had yet to call her by her given name, and the omission served as a reminder as he found himself, against his very will, looking down at her and trying to memorize her features.

“Good luck to you, Jeb Albright,” she said. And she held her hand out to him again.

Even though his own was no fresher than it had been when she’d extended hers before, something in his man’s pride wouldn’t let him balk this time. He took her hand in his.

It was soft against his palm, small and delicate. A woman’s touch…The thought flitted through his head, bringing back that craving for…something—he didn’t know what, only that it had gone unmet for years now.

His other hand covered hers, more complete contact with that softness—and in a test of sorts. He heard her short intake of breath as her other hand went to her throat again, fingers grazing across the pearls there as if touching a talisman. Yes, he saw the reaction he’d thought he would, that attraction that tugged at them both. Then her gaze flew up to meet his, doe eyes flaring slightly, as he felt in her grip the apprehension he’d first encountered upon seeing her. Or more accurately, her seeing him.

Immediately Jeb let go of Mariah’s hand and stepped back. She said nothing but got into her car.

He stood there long after her red taillights had disappeared into the night.

So. She felt she wasn’t being truthful in hiring herself out as Saved by the Belle. Well, he’d bet there were more than a few people out there looking for her kind of redemption.

He hated that the thought sent another torrent of longing ripping through him.

* * *

For the tenth time in an hour, Jeb flipped from his front to his back on the bed. It was going to be one of those nights, he guessed, of which he was having more and more lately.

This one was quite a bit different, though, for he wasn’t just restless. He was edgy as a caged bobcat without its mate.

“Jeb?” Wiley whispered from the other side of the darkened bedroom. The mobile home had only two bedrooms, situated at opposite ends of the trailer. As a result, Wiley had given up his room to Robin and bunked on the extra twin bed in Jeb’s room, vacated years ago by Cody. Jeb was only too happy to share, but sometimes Wiley snored like a hibernating grizzly. Or if awake, he talked, knowing he had a captive audience. Well, tonight Jeb was in no mood for confidences, not after today’s fiasco.

“Jeb?” Wiley repeated. “You asleep?”

“Yep.”

His uncle sighed. “You bein’ surly with me ain’t going to do anything more than earn you a second’s worth of satisfaction.”

Jeb hauled himself onto one elbow and peered across the room. “You don’t think I have the right to be put out with you for pullin’ that stunt today?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“Well, then, what would you say?”

“I was just tryin’ to help, son.”

“Right. I know what you were thinking, Wiley, and it wasn’t that Saved by the Belle could help any of us. At least not the way Mariah Duncan advertises she could. No, you saw her on that show and thought if you could just get her out here to meet me, lightning would strike us both, and there’d be the answer to all our troubles.” That’s what really chapped his hide about this whole deal. Wiley knew what had happened with Anita, and still he’d called Mariah out here.

The absurdity of it hit him afresh, as did every bit of his chagrin. “Good God, Wiley, what possessed you?”

“Well, there weren’t no listing in the Yellow Pages for Saved by the Ign’rant Hick Uncle!” his uncle shot back. “Or believe you me, I’d’ve called the number on both our accounts!”

There was a moment of silence in the room before the two men burst out laughing. Jeb let his head fall forward, shaking it slowly. He never could stay mad at Wiley for long.

“Come on, now. Admit it.. Didn’t you think she might make as likely a candidate for a real fine wife and mother as anyone else?” his uncle asked.

“Miss Junior League? Yeah, right.” All humor left him as Jeb scowled. “Besides, how could it possibly matter if I did?”

“I dunno. Seems to me I heard someone say a while back he’d try just about anything to keep Robbie.” Wiley grunted as he rolled over, for the first time in Jeb’s memory being the one to end the conversation, though not before delivering a parting morsel of food for thought, “You know, I always taught you and Cody that what you catch all depends on the bait you use.”

And just who were you thinking was which in this case? Jeb thought but didn’t ask. What would be the point? It didn’t matter what his opinion was of Mariah Duncan, just as it didn’t matter what she thought of him.

With a snort of self-disgust, Jeb flopped back on the bed, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

He had to admit, if only to himself, that the reason he’d been embarrassed at every turn today was because he had been attracted to Mariah Duncan, incredibly so, even with that touch-me-not haughtiness that put a man more in mind of a prim schoolteacher than a desirable woman.

Except he could tell, in that all-too-brief moment when she’d been pressed against him, that she didn’t lack for curves in all the right places. No, ma’am.

But it wasn’t his fancy for her looks that had him tossing and turning. That he could acknowledge for what it was, as he recognized her own surface fascination with him. Oh, yeah, he’d seen that look before.

No, it was Mariah’s demeanor that had socked him in the gut. How, he wondered, could he be even remotely captivated by some snobbish, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth Southern belle? Again?

But there had also been Mariah’s grace under fire, not to mention her continued kindness toward Robin even when he hadn’t been much friendlier than a badger, twice as gamey smelling and three times as wild-looking. And given those factors, she still hadn’t suggested it might be best for all concerned if Robin went to Lisa’s half sister, Anita.

Yes…Anita Babcock. Now, there was a Southern belle. Aside from Cody and Lisa’s funeral, he hadn’t seen her in over fourteen years, and had never faced her here on his own turf until her visit a month ago. She and her family had been passing through DFW Airport on their return from whatever country they’d been residing in to their new home in’Houston, had rented a car and “dropped in” to see Robin. It had been the first time, too, the Babcocks had seen where and how the girl was living. Which was fine with Jeb; he’d felt then and still felt he had nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

But Anita had picked the very day he, Wiley and Robin were spring-cleaning the store and boat house. The three of them had looked and probably smelled like something Lucy’d kept under the porch for a week.

And the result of that visit was that the Babcocks had come forward to say they simply couldn’t ignore their duty to provide a more appropriate environment for Robin than her present one.

Dammit, why couldn’t the woman leave him be? She’d gotten what she’d always wanted out of life, hadn’t she? A successful husband, two kids and a status life-style. Why must she now pass judgment on his?

But she had done so before, too.

Jeb stifled a sigh of frustration. Yes, he had only felt like this once before in his life—that who he was and what he did were not…enough. And the doubt had bombarded him repeatedly in the past two weeks since receiving the news about Anita intervening for custody of Robin.

With his edginess at a peak, Jeb flung back the covers and stood, clothed in his usual sleeping attire of a pair of briefs. He reached for the jeans he kept at the foot of his bed and slid them on before stepping out into the hallway and making his way to the kitchen. He was still unaccustomed to remembering to wear proper clothing in the common areas of the trailer, was used to walking about in or out of whatever he pleased as he had for the past twenty-five years. But that behavior wouldn’t do with a young lady in the house.

Jeb was unusually conscientious about that aspect of his guardianship. He knew part of the reason the court hadn’t waived the normal six-month period for awarding him adoption of his niece—as was often done in cases where the parties were related—was that of the very strikes against him thrown by Anita, now and fourteen years ago. He was a bachelor living with his own bachelor uncle in a trailer out on Lake Texoma, with no prospect of change.

Jeb filled a glass with tap water from the kitchen faucet, recalling how he’d stood here earlier this evening while doing dishes with Robin. They’d been almost through when she had spoken up, her cheeks flushing, about needing a permission slip signed for school. It was only after he’d read what she needed permission for that he understood her embarrassment at approaching him: the girls in her class were to see a film and presentation about puberty and how it would affect them.

At the bottom of the slip was the simple statement, “Mothers are invited to attend.”

Jeb’s fingers tightened reflexively around the glass. In the deepest corner of his heart, he had to wonder if a judge might not be right giving Robin to Anita. How quickly the girl responded to Mariah today told him a lot about Robin’s need for a mother. Though she never said a word, he knew the girl missed her mother. What kid wouldn’t?

He himself had been six years old when his parents had died, and he remembered Wiley saying once that when Jeb had come to live on Texoma, he’d been like a whelp weaned too soon from its mama. Cody had been older, and neither of their parents’ deaths had impacted him the same way as they had Jeb.

So make that twice, he realized. Twice in his life he’d been made to feel that he had not been enough—enough to keep his parents from leaving him.

Maybe because Robin was older, she would adjust more easily, as Cody had. But he and Cody had been boys; Robin was a girl, and she was entering that age when a girl needed a mother most.

And not just a mother. A mother for Robin should be someone…naturally tender, with a combination of gentle strength and kindness. So kind and soft—

Abruptly Jeb tipped his head back and slugged down the whole glass of water in three swallows, as if to distract his mind from such thoughts. Crazy thoughts they were, showing him how desperate he was becoming. He’d told Mariah he wasn’t going to take a wife just to give Robin a mother, but what if in doing so he managed to fill one or two needs of his own?

There were saner alternatives. Maybe his marital status wasn’t going to change soon, but why couldn’t he move the three of them—Robin, Wiley and himself—into town and take a job? He didn’t know what on earth kind it would be, but at least Robin might take up more-appropriate interests than learning to bait hooks or gut fish. Wouldn’t she be happier there, too?

Did it matter that something would die in him—and in Wiley—to leave here for the city?

Something would die in him, too, though, if he lost Robin.

Besides, Jeb had never dreamed of leaving the place he had come to as a grief-stricken orphan. He reckoned the reason he had set down such roots here, which continued to thrust ever deeper, was that as a boy, he had feared he would never have a place where he belonged again. That he would never be loved or needed. Memories of those fears were why Jeb encouraged Robbie to become involved in the fishing business, make her feel that it was part hers, too. To exclude her from joining in, from being a part of their family completely, would permanently disable a sense of hopefulness in the girl that had just barely learned to stand on two feet again.

Yes, he and Robin shared a special bond, having lost their parents and coming to live on Texoma with their only uncle. She was all either he or Wiley had left of Cody.

She was also all that Anita had left of Lisa. Sure, right now Robin was resistant to the prospect of living with her aunt, but perhaps that was because Robin didn’t know Anita very well, she and her husband having been on the move so much. Maybe if Robin got a chance to get to know the whole family, see how she fit in, she’d feel differently. Maybe he would, too….

Dropping his chin, Jeb stared at his hand, barely visible in the dimness. Whether his fingers were turned white by the half-light or the way he gripped the edge of the sink, he didn’t know.

But one thing he did know with soul-deep certainty: he simply could not lose that little girl.