Читать книгу A Mother's Wish / Mother To Be: A Mother's Wish - Karen Templeton - Страница 10
Chapter Four
ОглавлениеRobbie didn’t know why somebody staying in the Old House bugged him so much. Especially since the lady’d said she was only there for a week. And she seemed okay and all, when he’d met her in the store. But why was she staying here? He asked Flo, but she was no help. All Robbie knew was that the lady’s being there felt worse than when Florita would come into his room without knocking.
Because this was where he could think about Mom all he wanted, sometimes even talk to her—even though he knew he wasn’t really talking to her, he wasn’t some dumb little kid who believed in ghosts—but he could say things to her he couldn’t to Dad, like about how much he still missed her and stuff. It was even okay if he cried, because there was nobody around to see him. Of course he thought about Mom up at his real house, too, or when he was out walking in the woods or riding his bike, but this was different.
All day at school, he kept thinking about how it felt like this lady was coming between him and Mom, even though he knew that was stupid. Poor Miss Carter, she’d had to tell him to focus like a million times.
So as soon as he got off the school bus, he decided to just go ask her himself. As soon as he did, though, he felt really dumb. Especially since the lady got this strange look on her face.
“My name’s Winnie,” she said, smiling and coming out onto the porch. She didn’t shut the door behind her or anything, but Robbie still felt like he was being kept out, which made him mad. Only then she said, “I’d invite you inside, but I’m sure you know you shouldn’t do that with a stranger,” and it freaked him out, a little, that she’d kinda read his mind. “You’re Robbie, right?”
He nodded, then said, “Why’d you come?”
“I saw a piece in a magazine about Tierra Rosa, and it looked so nice I decided to come see it for myself, and since you don’t have any motels or anything—”
“I don’t want you here,” Robbie said, his face getting all hot; as he looked away, the dog came up to him and licked his hand, like she understood how bad he felt.
Instead of getting upset or mad, though, Winnie slipped her hands into her pockets. “This is your hideout, isn’t it?”
Robbie’s face got hotter. Ten times worse, though, was feeling like he was gonna cry. “Sorta.”
“I didn’t know,” Winnie said softly, calling the dog to her. Not looking at him. “When I made arrangements to stay here, I mean. I had no idea this was your place.” She got quiet for a moment, then said, “I won’t be here long, though. I promise.”
“You said a week, back at the store.”
“I might leave sooner. I haven’t decided yet.”
Something in her face made Robbie feel like he was looking in a mirror, like she was as sad as he was, but trying real hard not to show it. Which made him feel bad, because it wasn’t like her fault or anything. Then he noticed the pumpkins.
“If you’re not gonna stay, how come you got all these pumpkins?”
Winnie laughed. “It was just one of those impulse things.”
“What’s that mean?”
“When you do something without thinking it through.” She sighed, then ruffled the dog’s fur. “I do that a lot. It’s a bad habit.”
Staring at the pumpkins, Robbie said, “Halloween useta be my mom’s favorite holiday.”
“Yeah? Mine, too.”
“You gonna carve faces in ‘em?”
“Probably. When I get back home, closer to Halloween. If I cut ‘em now, they’ll shrivel up too fast.”
“Yeah, I know.” He paused. “My mom died. Right before Halloween last year.”
“Oh, honey…I’m so sorry,” she said, like she really meant it. “My folks died, too, when I was about your age.”
He looked at her, curious.
“How?”
“In a car crash,” she said softly.
“Oh.”
He’d never known anybody else whose parents had died when they were still a kid. Maybe that’s why she didn’t go all stupid and act all embarrassed and stuff like a lot of other people did, either treating him all fake nice or refusing to look right at him. Before he knew what he was doing, he sat on the step beside her. The dog brought him a stick to throw.
“What’s her name?”
“Annabelle. Although sometimes I call her Dumbbell.”
Robbie almost laughed. He threw the stick for the dog, then heard himself say, “When Mom was sick, I’d come here a lot.”
“Just to be by yourself?”
“Yeah. And now it’s almost like…”
“What?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t believe he’d almost told her about feeling like Mom was here now. Like she’d moved into the Old House after she’d died. “Nothin’,” he said, shrugging. “I forgot what I was about to say.”
“I do that, too,” Winnie said. Robbie looked at her.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Lots. It used to drive my grandmother crazy. She raised me after my parents died. She’s dead, too, now. Hey—you want a banana? Or a granola bar? I mean, if you think it’s okay.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” He thought. “Could I have both?”
“Sure,” Winnie said, getting up, her voice kinda shaky when she told the dog to stay outside with Robbie.
Her eyes burning, Winnie collapsed against the wall next to the door, the plaster rough through her cotton top as she willed the shakes to stop. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to fall so hard, so fast…
Oh, for heaven’s sake, girl, pull yourself together. Jerking in a sharp breath, she crossed to grab a couple of bananas and a granola bar off the table, then headed back outside. Half of her wished like hell her son would be gone, the other half…
The other half was laughing its fool head off.
Robbie had just tossed the stick for Annabelle again when she walked out onto the porch. He took the banana, started to peel it. Desperately trying for nonchalant, Winnie lowered herself beside him again, peeling her own, trying not to react to his innocent, dusty scent. The confusion seeping from his pores.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“You got any brothers or sisters or anybody?” he asked around a full mouth.
“Nope.”
He looked at her. “You mean you’re really all alone?”
Thanks, kid. “I really am.”
Robbie frowned at his banana for a moment, then took another bite. “I have a Mam and Pap in Ireland. That’s what they call grandparents there. But I’ve only seen them a couple of times, and once was right after I was ‘dopted, so that doesn’t really count.”
The damn fruit was burning a hole in her stomach. Please don’t say anything more about being adopted, she prayed. Please. “It probably does for them.”
“I guess.” Robbie finished his banana, then ripped the wrapping off the granola bar. “Chocolate chips! Cool.”
“You didn’t strike me as a raisin kind of kid,” Winnie said, laughing when he made a face.
Annabelle sat in front of them, polite but doleful. “Can I give her a piece?” Robbie asked.
“She’d be cool with it, but chocolate isn’t good for dogs. So, no.”
The child gnawed off the end of his bar, frowning. “You know what really sucks?”
Winnie held her breath. “What?”
“The way people keep all the time saying that Dad’ll probably get married again some day, and then I’d have another mother.” When he looked at her, she could see how close the tears were to falling, and her heart broke. “And how dumb is that?”
“Pretty dumb,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice how shiny her eyes probably were, too. “Because nobody can ever take your mom’s place, right?”
“No way. I mean, when your mom died, did you ever think about having another one?”
Winnie shook her head. She’d been devastated when her parents died, naturally, but after all this time it was more about remembering the pain, not feeling it. “Not that there would have been any chance of that, but…no.”
“Dad would never marry somebody else. He’s too sad. And anyway, Florita says he’s such a grouch nobody else would have him.”
The laugh popped out before she knew it was there. Still, she said, “Sometimes when people are really sad, they get angry. So your dad might not be like that forever.” Then again, Aidan Black seemed to positively enjoy his crankiness, like a cup of good, hot coffee on a chilly day. She reached down to brush clay dust off her boot. “I bet your mom was a real special lady.”
Robbie frowned. “Why do you think that? Did you know her?”
“No. But it takes a special mom to raise a special kid.”
He frowned harder, almost comically. “You think I’m special?”
Dangerous ground, honey, she heard in her head. Proceed with extreme caution. “Well, I don’t know you very well, either, but I’m pretty good at reading people.”
“Reading people? Like a book?”
“Sort of. Except instead of reading words, I get these feelings about who people really are by watching their faces, listening to their voices, paying attention to how they act. I’m not always right, but mostly I am. And I’m guessing…” She looked at him with narrowed eyes, thinking, Will you even remember this conversation a year from now? Will you remember the crazy lady with the hyperactive dog and too many pumpkins on her porch? “That…you get in trouble sometimes, but never anything too serious. Just regular stuff, like most kids. That you probably do okay in school, but you like weekends better. That you still miss your mama a lot, but maybe…”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“No, seriously—what?”
His eyes were so blue, so earnest. So damn much like hers. “That maybe it’s hard for you to tell your daddy how you feel?” When he turned away, she sighed and said, “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t’ve said that. It’s that impulsive thing again. Saying something without thinking it through?”
Robbie scrubbed one shoulder over his eyes. “No, it’s okay.” Then he squinted up into the trees, mumbled, “I gotta go,” and sprang from the step and over to his fallen bike. He yanked it upright and straddled it. “C’n I come see you again tomorrow, maybe?”
Winnie folded her hands in front of her so tightly they hurt. “I thought you didn’t want me here?”
The kid blushed. “I guess it’s okay if you hang around.”
“Oh. Wow. Thanks. But…” Her heart cowered. “I think I’ve changed my mind. So I’m probably leaving in the morning.”
“But you’ll come back, right?”
“Oh, sugar…” Don’t, she thought, blinking back tears. Don’t…
Slowly, she shook her head, startled out of her wits when a hurt, angry “Fine! Do whatever you want to!” exploded out of the kid’s mouth, at the precise moment they both heard his father’s barked, “Robbie! What in the devil’s name are you doing here?”
Winnie jumped to her feet as Robbie started, just as Aidan emerged from the woods at the side of the house. And even through unshed tears, Winnie could tell he was one seriously pissed hombre.
Aidan barely caught Winnie’s surreptitious swipe at her eyes before he refocused his attention on his son, who looked more confused than guilty.
“Nothin’. I just…” He glanced at Winnie, then back at Aidan. “I just wanted to find out who she was, that’s all—”
“It’s okay,” Winnie started to say, but Aidan shot her a quelling look that, amazingly, actually shut her up. Then he looked back at Robbie.
“You know better than t’go anywhere without first checking in with Florita or me,” he said quietly. “Flo was beside herself with worry. So you get yourself back up to the house, right now. And except to go to school, don’t plan on leaving it for at least t’ree days.”
“Dad!”
“Go on.”
Grumbling, the lad took off; when he’d disappeared from sight, Winnie said, “That was a little harsh, wasn’t it?”
Aidan pivoted, almost grateful for a reason to be angry with her. “For breaking the one rule Junie and I insisted on from the time he could walk? I don’t think so. And where d’you get off criticizing my decisions?”
She dug in her pants pocket for a tissue, blew her nose. “Sorry,” she mumbled into the tissue, then crossed her arms. “You’re right, it’s not my place. Although if you notice I didn’t say anything in front of R-Robbie.”
Aidan looked away. “I suppose I should be grateful for that, at least.”
“Yes, you should,” she said, sounding stronger. “I swear I had no idea you didn’t know where he was—”
“And didja think I would have allowed him to come here?”
“How the hell should I know, Mr. Come Up to the House For Dinner Tonight—?”
“Didja tell him?”
“That I was his birth mother? Of course not,” she said in the manner of a woman who’s had it up to here. “I’m not that stupid. Or selfish. Or a liar. I said I wouldn’t say anything, and I didn’t. Besides, if I had, don’t you think that would’ve been the first thing out of his mouth when he saw you?”
“But he said—”
“He asked who I was. So I told him my name, I didn’t figure that could hurt anything. Especially since you told me he didn’t know.” Although she appeared to have recovered her equilibrium, her body language positively screamed her turmoil. An intuition confirmed when she added, “Maybe dinner tonight’s not such a good idea.”
“And here you’d sworn you’d changed,” Aidan said over an unaccountable surge of anger.
Her eyes widened, until, suddenly, he saw realization dawn. “I honestly didn’t think I’d feel any real connection,” she said in quiet amazement, looking away. “Not after all these years. And certainly not after two short conversations. ” She swiped a hand across her nose. “So, yeah, I guess I’m right back where I was eight and a half years ago.” Her eyes veered to his. “He’s a really great kid.”
Aidan swallowed. “You can thank June for that.”
She studied him for such a long time his face began to heat. “I wish I’d known her better.”
“You had your chance.”
“I know,” Winnie said softly, then released a breath. “I’m leaving in the morning. I won’t bother you again.”
The rush of relief wasn’t nearly as sweet as he might have expected. But then, nothing was these days. And probably never would be again, he thought as she added, “If Robbie wants to see me when he’s older—”
“How will you explain?”
“That we’ve already met? I don’t know.” She forked her bangs off her forehead. “If I’m lucky, maybe it won’t matter by then.” A chagrined half smile touched her mouth. “Sorry for the trouble.”
Unable to speak for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, Aidan simply nodded, then turned toward the path. He’d been so thrown, when he’d discovered Robbie’d gone missing, that he’d taken off on foot without thinking. Now he faced one helluva hike back up the mountain—
He frowned, noticing the pumpkins lined up on the porch. Not as many as June would have gathered, but enough to prick the treacherously thin membrane containing the memories. He twisted back around. “Did Robbie say anything else? Aside from asking who you were?”
Winnie gave him a strange look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Neither do I, really. It’s just…I don’t know what he’s thinking anymore—”
The words had fallen from his mouth without his brain even giving a nod of approval. As if Winnie herself had somehow pulled them out of him. But that was crazy. Impossible. His gaze shifted again to the pumpkins, glowing in the last rush of daylight, and he could have sworn he saw faces in them already. Or at least, one face in particular—
“If you want to know what we talked about,” Winnie said softly, “maybe you should ask him yourself.” Then she disappeared inside the house before he could say, Have a safe trip.
Not that he would have, but he would have liked the chance.
That distant rooster’s crow keeping her company, Winnie thunked yet another pumpkin into the truck bed the next morning, her stomach none too chipper about the carton of Snickers ice cream she’d forced into it the night before in some lame attempt to staunch the ache. And not just for herself, or even the child she’d given up the right to call her son years before, but for the agony in Aidan’s eyes. The fear, that having already lost his wife, he might lose his child, as well.
Even if she doubted he knew that’s what he was feeling. But he was definitely aware of the communication break-down. He just didn’t know what to do about it.
Oh, and like you do?
Winnie sighed. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She supposed she could call the man and say, “Two words: family counseling.” And she might yet…once she crossed the Texas border. Even so, whatever these people needed, she wasn’t the one to supply it. And not only because her timing couldn’t have been worse, but also because…
Because she couldn’t handle it.
Just like she hadn’t been able to handle it before, when she’d backed out of their arrangement. Aidan was right, she hadn’t changed at all. Or a’tall, as he might say.
She’d been half tempted to toss everything into the truck and take off right then and there, until reason prevailed and she realized she was far too emotionally drained for the long drive back, especially at night. Although—breathing hard, she glared at the thirty-pound monster pumpkin still on the porch, decided Forget it—considering how badly she’d slept again, she might as well have left last night. If she had—
“C’mon, girl,” she called to the dog, then climbed up behind the steering wheel after her.
—she’d be home by now. Home, with all this craziness behind her—
“What the heck?” she muttered when she turned the ignition key and got…nothing. Not a growl, not a rumble, not even a burp.
She tried again. Still nothing.
Her eyes shut, Winnie slumped back in her seat. Muttering bad words. While she wasn’t the most mechanically inclined chick in the world, even she knew a dead battery when she heard it. Or in this case, didn’t hear it. But how could that be? She’d just had a tune-up before the trip, she hadn’t left the lights on or anything…
So much for her dramatic exit. Okay, not so dramatic, it wasn’t like she had any witnesses, except for the pumpkins and the dog. But still. In her head, it had been dramatic.
On a weary sigh, Winnie fished her phone out of her shirt pocket and punched in Aidan’s cell number. Nothing there, either, not even voice mail. The man truly took reclusiveness to new heights. And she had no clue what his house phone was, or if he even had a landline.
On another, even wearier sigh, she banged open her truck door, slid to the ground, waited for the dog, then began what turned out to be a surprisingly long trek up the leaf-strewn dirt road, the crowing growing louder with each step.