Читать книгу An Unlikely Mommy - Tanya Michaels - Страница 7

“Mornin’, darlin’.”

Ronnie glanced up from the Monday paper she was scanning at the table and smiled as Wayne Carter came down the stairs into the kitchen. “Hey, Daddy.”

“What’s on the breakfast menu this morning?”

“Cereal.” She pointed to the bowl and spoon she’d pulled out for him. “It’s the one thing I’m guaranteed not to burn.”

He paused behind her, ruffling her hair. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve blossomed into a fair cook.”

Well, she hadn’t sent anyone to Doc Caldwell with food poisoning, so she guessed that was something.

She could hold her own with prepackaged meals and brownies made from a mix, but she couldn’t duplicate the efforts of Sue Carter, who used to can her own jellies, made noodles from scratch for her soup and never once served a store-bought dessert until after her cancer diagnosis. One day, a few weeks after her mother’s funeral, Ronnie had stood inside the walk-in pantry sobbing at the realization that they were about to open the last of mama’s blackberry preserves and that there would never be any more.

The sounds of her dad’s chair scraping on the tile and subsequent rustling of cereal into a ceramic bowl dragged Ronnie back to the present. She blinked against the phantom sting of long-ago tears.

Wayne nodded toward the paper. “You done with the sports page?”

“You can have the whole thing.”

The Journal-Report was folded in half, open to the classified section. Her dad glanced down, then back at her.

“I was, ah, looking for good deals on furniture I could restore.”

“For the new place.” To give him credit, he tried to sound happy for her. But there was no mistaking the shadow that passed over his expression. “It’ll sure be lonely with you gone.”

She rose, carrying her empty bowl to the sink. “You’ll still have Dev.”

Before Ronnie was born, Wayne and Sue had bought the converted farmhouse in which she’d lived her entire life. Though the surrounding acreage that comprised the original farm had been sold off in parcels to local families, the old bunkhouse sat at the back of Wayne’s property. Devin had fixed it up and moved in, paying a nominal rent each month. Half the time, he joined them for dinner.

Or breakfast, if he hadn’t entertained an overnight guest. At least he has the freedom to have overnight guests. Ronnie glared through the blue-checkered curtains in the direction of her brother’s unseen home.

She rinsed the dishes, wiped her damp palms on the front of her jeans and smiled at her father. “Besides, you’ll see me practically every day, boss.”

He laughed. “True. You probably think I’m being an old fool, don’t you? It’s just…you’re the last little bird to leave the nest.”

Not that Devin had flown far, but she knew what her dad meant. Her brother Will had settled in North Carolina, where he’d gone to college and met his wife. Danny had Kaitlyn and Ashley now. Besides, restless Dev with his odd jobs and fleeting girlfriends sometimes seemed as likely to take off for a distant ranching job in Texas as show up for Sunday dinner. Her brothers, in their individual ways, were all living their lives.

Then there’s me, caught in a time warp.

She worked for her father, lived at home and was so tongue-tied at the thought of asking a cute guy to dance that she might as well still be the awkward, freckled fifteen-year-old who wore her brothers’ hand-me-down T-shirts more often than dresses. Even now, Lola Ann kidded that Ronnie only knew two hairstyles—a ponytail beneath her denim Carter & Sons cap and a ponytail without the hat. Glancing down, she took in the faded George Strait concert shirt she’d tucked into her jeans.

“I think I’ll run and change before heading to the garage,” she said, hearing the rueful note in her own voice.

Her dad paused with a spoonful of shredded wheat halfway to his mouth. “What the heck’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

For the mechanic who’d be sliding on protective coveralls, anyway? Nothing. For the woman she’d started wondering if she would ever truly become? More than she could possibly articulate.

BY THE TIME JASON APPROACHED the front of the high school, his paper bag from the Sandwich Shoppe in hand, there wasn’t much of his free period left to eat lunch at his desk. It would have been quicker to take his car, but the mid-March weather was ideal, providing the perfect sun-dappled, breezy backdrop for the picturesque town.

“Afternoon, Mr. McDeere.” Allen, the custodian, stood a few feet away at the half wall that formed a horseshoe around the school’s courtyard. Just beyond the brick wall were several picnic tables, the flagpole and the stairs leading inside.

Though the overall crime rate in Joyous was low, there had been some recent drive-by mailbox bashings and a spate of graffiti on the courtyard wall. Jason shook his head at the spray-painted suggestion that had appeared over the weekend. Obscene and misspelled.

“I see our miscreants are keeping you busy,” Jason said.

Allen grinned beneath his bushy gray mustache. “Beats spending the day inside solving plumbing emergencies. Principal Schonrock’s on the warpath, though. In the faculty lounge, she was threatening to cancel Spring Fling if the vandalism continues, but talked herself out of it, not wanting to penalize the whole student body for the actions of a few.”

Spring Fling was the formal dance at the end of this month. Since Jason hadn’t attended Homecoming in October or the Holiday Ball in December, Betty Schonrock had made it clear she expected Jason to take his turn and help chaperone the Fling. He’d gone so far as to promise his second-period class that if every one of them memorized either the Queen Mab speech from Romeo and Juliet or Mark Antony’s address in Julius Caesar, Jason would hit the dance floor to bust some old school moves. All part of his ongoing attempts to get the students engaged in Shakespeare.

Plan B was to point out some of the more creative insults and dirty jokes in the Bard’s plays, but Principal Schonrock might frown on that.

He took the stairs two at a time and had no sooner entered the building than he spotted the principal herself. She’d left the administrative office and was headed in the direction of the cafeteria. Betty was a diminutive but solidly built woman with a bob of silver-white hair and a sharp turquoise gaze that struck fear in the hearts of students, from pimply freshmen to linebackers on the Jaguar football team.

“Speak of the devil,” Jason said as he fell in step with her.

She arched an eyebrow. “That had better be a figure of speech and not a character assessment.”

“Yes, ma’am. Allen and I were just discussing the graffiti and your determination to end it.”

“God as my witness, even if I have to camp out in the courtyard every night with a sleeping bag, thermos of coffee and an industrial-size flashlight, I’m going to catch someone in the act and make an example of them.”

“Those kids don’t know who they’re messing with,” he said affectionately. “I heard you even considered taking away Spring Fling.”

Pausing, she slanted him a reproachful scowl. “Don’t sound so hopeful, McDeere.”

“Not at all. I’m…looking forward to it.”

“Good.” She nodded crisply before zeroing in on two girls standing near a bank of lockers. “Seneca, Jess. Do you ladies have some reason for loitering in the hallways?”

“We were on our way to the media center to work on a research project for Miss Burrows.” The taller of the two answered while her friend spared a quick glance at Jason, then lowered her head, giggling. “We have a pass.”

“Well, pick it up a little. I’ve seen injured turtles move faster than that.”

The girls both nodded, skirting around the principal to make their way down the corridor. Whispers and laughter trailed after them. Though he hoped it was his imagination, Jason thought he caught his name.

Principal Schonrock assessed him, arms akimbo. “About that spring formal, McDeere, I don’t suppose you’ll be bringing a date?”

“Ma’am?” He was unprepared for the random question, though he assumed she wasn’t asking him out. Mr. Schonrock wouldn’t approve.

“A date, McDeere. A female companion to whom you bring cups of ginger ale punch between rounds on the dance floor.”

What was it with the people in this town and their preoccupation with his social life? “I plan to go stag. Stay focused on the kids, make sure no one smuggles a flask to spike the punch.”

“I’ve got punch duty, no worries there.” She sighed. “You’re one of the best literature teachers we’ve ever had at this school, but you do pose the occasional problem.”

“Such as?” Jason was genuinely baffled, but open to constructive criticism if it would improve his effectiveness in the classroom.

For perhaps the first time since he’d known her, Betty seemed hesitant, glancing down the hall, checking in both directions before she replied. “When you were helping Coach Hanover with the cross-country team last semester, did you happen to notice how many divorced moms showed up at meets?”

“They were there to support their kids.”

“Some of them didn’t have kids on the team. Some of them didn’t even have kids at this school! Then there’s my own faculty. Shannon Cross has been teaching for four years and never once wore a low-cut sweater to a PTA meeting before you joined the staff. The way she and Leigh Norris bat their eyelashes at you over the coffeepot makes them seem more like students than educators. And it’s affected their professional relationship. Last Friday, I thought there might actually be a catfight.”

“Er…” While he wasn’t comfortable with the increasingly flirtatious mannerisms of his two female colleagues, he was even less comfortable discussing them with the principal. “Maybe it would be better to have this chat with Ms. Cross and Ms. Norris.”

“I have. But it’s not just them. You stand out conspicuously. We have a small staff here and very few male teachers. Aside from you, no male teachers who are single.”

“That has no bearing on my job performance.”

“Of course not, but you saw how Seneca and Jess reacted to you.”

“Teenage girls giggle all the time,” he said stiffly.

“Last week, Mrs. Feeney walked into the D Hall restroom and overheard three girls making dares on ways to get your attention. I dealt with it, but the fact of the matter remains that some parents…”

Surely no one had ever accused him of flirting with a student? If he didn’t resent the implication so much, he might have laughed at the irony. He hadn’t wanted to be single! When he’d made the vow to stay with Isobel until death parted them, he’d meant it. He just hadn’t anticipated her bailing on motherhood and, consequently, their marriage.

He tightened his grip on his lunch, probably crushing the sandwich inside the sack. “Principal Schonrock, I don’t like the tone of this conversation. If you’ll excuse me, I only have a few minutes left before the bell rings.”

“Jason, I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I considered not telling you about the restroom incident at all, but thought it better if you knew.”

“So that I can bring a date to the Spring Fling?” There were limits on what he was willing to do in his personal life to appease those in charge of his professional life.

“It might not hurt if people thought of you as less available.”

He bared his teeth in a humorless smile, spelling out what he’d tried to make Coach Hanover understand the other night. “I am the sole caretaker of a two-year-old. With my grandmother gone, I’ve tailored my schedule around Emily’s sitter and have been struggling in my nonexistent spare time, between potty training and grading papers, to renovate the run-down house Gran left us. Trust me, I’m about as unavailable as you can get.”

“MMM.” LOLA ANN CLOSED HER eyes briefly, tilting her face up toward the sun, clearly a woman who’d never freckled. “Days as lovely as today, I wonder why anyone ever drives.”

“Hey!” Ronnie laughed, scooting over on the sidewalk to avoid the dropped remains of an ice cream cone. “That’s my job security you’re threatening. How would you like it if I started questioning why people still read books?”

“Not enough of them do,” Lola Ann said vehemently.

“You have a point.” Certainly the men in Ronnie’s family never read anything unless it was related to sports or automobiles. She made a mental note to include a children’s book along with whatever gift she gave her niece for her next birthday.

A memory surfaced, the Christmas her freshman year when her dad and brothers had bought her a stack of cookbooks. The only kitchen tools I’ll need after the move are a microwave, a can opener and a refrigerator magnet with the phone number of the town’s pizza-delivery place.

It wasn’t that she’d ended up stuck with traditionally female chores because her brothers were meat-headed chauvinists. Juggling schoolwork and, in the case of Danny and Will, part-time jobs, they’d all helped around the house in different ways while Wayne ran the garage. Struggling to fulfill a promise that first year after Mom’s death, Ronnie had inadvertently set the pattern from which she still hadn’t broken free.

Take care of them. Looking back, Ronnie knew what her mother had meant—after all, without feminine interference, Will and Devin might never have thought to put on clean clothes. Yet, Ronnie felt as if she’d spent more time trying ineptly to fill someone else’s shoes than finding her own footsteps.

The library was on the corner, and Ronnie automatically slowed, assuming this was where she and Lola Ann would part company after their lunch.

“I, um, thought I’d walk with you,” Lola Ann said. “You know, work off some of that barbecue. Plus, I have to go to the post office. The garage is on the way.”

Ronnie raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment on her friend’s indirect route. “Suit yourself, I’m happy for the company.”

While Joyous was by and large a rural community where cars were a necessity, the few blocks of “downtown,” with its old-fashioned storefronts and limited parking, really did make for a nice stroll. They ran into numerous acquaintances, including Charity Sumner as she exited Claudette’s Beauty Salon.

“Charity!” Navigating the stroller the blonde pushed, Ronnie gave her a one-armed hug. “Long time, no see.”

Charity was Treble’s younger sister and, next to Lola Ann, Ronnie’s closest friend.

“We’ve missed you at Guthrie’s, but understand what’s kept you so busy.” Lola Ann leaned down to admire eight-month-old Brooke. “A cutie like this one sure makes the biological clock tick louder.”

Ronnie shifted her weight, listening as the other two women discussed baby milestones. Truthfully, Ronnie’s biological clock wasn’t running all that fast. She doubted it was even plugged in.

“I should be going.” Charity glanced at her watch reluctantly. “But we have to get together soon! Now that she’s sleeping through the night and I don’t constantly feel like a zombie, it’s time to reclaim my life.”

After they’d said goodbye, her friend’s words kept looping in Ronnie’s mind, like one of those irritatingly catchy pop songs that are impossible to get out of your head. Time to reclaim my life, time to reclaim my life. It was exactly how Ronnie had been feeling…except, had she ever created a life to reclaim?

“Lola Ann, is twenty-five too old for deciding what you want to be when you grow up?”

“What? I thought you liked being a mechanic.”

“I do. I meant metaphorically rather than professionally.”

Frankly, she’d never analyzed her vocational choice too closely. Wayne, who’d inherited the garage from his own father, had spoken often of sharing the place with his boys. Danny was the bookkeeper and worked in a mostly administrative capacity, although he’d probably help with basic maintenance procedures this week because people were gearing up for spring break road trips, keeping them busier than usual. Devin was a certified mechanic, but only pitched in between construction jobs to supplement his income—Joyous wasn’t a hotbed of new buildings and roadways. Of Wayne’s four children, Ronnie was the only one to become a full-time mechanic at the annoyingly named Carter & Sons.

She glared up at the sign that had never really bothered her before now.

Then she shook her head, trying to clear away the negativity. “Honest to God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’ve been cranky. Itchy in my own skin, bad-tempered and unable to sleep.”

“Maybe it’s sexual frustration,” her friend teased. “That’s made me peevish on more than one occasion.”

“The sad part is, you’re probably right.” Ronnie glanced back up at the familiar sign and sucked in a deep breath. “Lola Ann, it’s time to make some changes. Are you with me?”

The brunette looked nervous. “Uh…with you on what, exactly?”

“We’ve got to take charge of our lives.” Running into Charity today had reinforced the realization that most of the people Ronnie knew were moving forward in different ways. Buying her house was an important step, but it didn’t have to be the only one. “You’re a bright, attractive woman. You don’t have to get all your happily ever afters from books—create your own future. If you’re really interested in that brother of mine, make him notice you. The next time I see Jason at Guthrie Hall, I am marching up to him and claiming that dance I’ve always wanted.”

“You are?” Lola An asked skeptically.

“I am! And if I can be brave, so can you.”

“Seems awfully convenient that the theoretical object of your bravery almost never comes to Guthrie’s.”

“I’m aiming for greatness here, don’t distract me with minor problems like reality.”

LolaAnn laughed. “All right. After you, o fearless leader.”

Empowered, Ronnie swung open the door. Lola Ann followed her inside the small office area that opened via a carpeted hallway into the much larger repair bays. “I’m back from lunch!”

Danny glanced up from his computer, looking amused at her inexplicably emphatic tone. “So we see.”

“’Bout time you got back, slacker.” Devin passed them en route from the minifridge, a carton of leftover take-out food in his hand. “Hey, Lola Ann.” He punctuated his greeting by affectionately chucking her chin, a gesture of such asexual fondness that Ronnie almost winced on her friend’s behalf.

Lola Ann’s expression was one of abject misery. Devin, being male and clueless, missed it completely.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work,” Lola Ann told her friend. “I’ve gotta get to the post office, pick up those stamps.”

“We’ll see you on Saturday for dinner.” Ronnie gave her an encouraging smile. “In the meantime, don’t forget what we discussed. The world really can be your oyster.”

Turning to go, Lola Ann raised a halfhearted fist in solidarity.

“We make our own destiny,” Ronnie called through the door as it closed. “Even the most daunting journeys start with one decisive step!”

Devin stared at her. “Someone had way too many fortune cookies at lunch. What was that about?”

“Nothing you need worry your pretty head over,” Ronnie said. “Is Dad in the back?”

“Went to lunch with one of his poker buddies,” Danny answered, his eyes never leaving the monitor.

So it was just her and her brothers? She bit her lip, recalled this morning and decided to take advantage of the opportunity. “Devin, after I move out, will you go by the house for dinners and stuff? Keep him company.”

“I suppose, as long as it doesn’t put a crimp in my social life.” When he saw that she was seriously concerned, he sobered. “Sure, no prob. You know I always pop in to do my laundry, anyway.” The bunkhouse didn’t have a washer and dryer.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “I assume you refer to the bags of clothes you leave on the laundry room floor that get magically sorted, washed and folded for you.”

“Yeah, gotta love those laundry fairies.” Grinning, he speared a bite of cold pasta.

“Well, this laundry fairy is about to get her own mortgage payments,” she snapped, “so you’re going to have to learn how to measure out detergent.”

Devin blinked. “Hey…I didn’t think you minded. I mean, you were doing yours and dad’s clothes so I figured it was no trouble to toss in one other person’s. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you, Red.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved a hand, feeling shrewish. “Just, now that I’m moving out, things will have to change.” Actually, her house didn’t come with a washer and dryer, so maybe she could go to Dad’s house once a week and—No! She would save her quarters and use a Laundromat, or take pizza and a DVD to Lola Ann’s and do a couple of loads there.

They’d snagged Danny’s attention; he was peering at her intently. “You okay, sis? You seem wound pretty tight.”

No way was she sharing Lola Ann’s theory about why that might be.

“I’m excited about the move, but a little stressed, too,” Ronnie said. “It might be weird, not living in my room anymore.”

“It’ll be an adjustment,” he agreed. “For Dad, too. Maybe we could get him a puppy for Easter or something.”

“Do you think…” She swallowed, thinking of their father’s increasingly forlorn moods. “Has he ever considered dating?”

Neither of her brothers replied, but they both looked pointedly at the single framed snapshot on Wayne’s desk.

Danny glanced back at Ronnie, his expression both poignant and proud. “You look so much like her.” As the oldest, he’d had the most years with Sue, the most stored memories.

Ronnie laughed self-consciously. “Oh, right. I can see her now, standing in the kitchen in shapeless coveralls with a grease smudge on her cheek.”

“Flour.” Devin interjected. “I’d come home from school to the smell of something amazing baking, and she’d have little smears of flour on her skin and apron. God, she made the house smell good.”

Better than I ever did, Ronnie thought with an apologetic pang.

Silence fell over the little room, and Ronnie didn’t know who was more discomfited by the thick undercurrent of sentiment—the guys, or her.

Danny cleared his throat. “Guess who brought her car in while you were at lunch? Beth Gold. Seems her vehicle is suffering from phantom engine noises again.”

Ronnie was grateful for the excuse to laugh. “You mean those noises no one else has ever heard but which always seem to mysteriously reappear if she notices Dev working the shop?”

“I don’t think it’s engine noises,” Danny said solemnly. “I think it’s lo-o-o-ve.”

At this, Devin harrumphed. “We went on two dates this summer. Two! She should let it go.”

“She can’t,” Danny said. “Because she’s in lo-o-o-ve.”

Devin tossed a wadded-up napkin at his older brother, doing his part to dispel the earlier emotional tension. “Does Kaitlyn know that when you’re away from her good influence, you revert to a ten-year-old?”

“At least I’ve learned how to be a grown-up part of the time. Just one of the benefits of life with a good woman,” Danny said. “Something you would discover if you settled down.”

“There’s the problem,” Devin said. “Why ‘settle’ when I can get to know so many different beautiful women, each with her own delightful and unique personality?”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s really their personalities you’re after, you hound.”

Devin jerked his head meaningfully toward Ronnie, apparently wanting to spare her delicate sensibilities. Then he smiled, taking the opportunity to redirect Danny’s brotherly concern. “If you want someone in the family to find domestic bliss, you should stop badgering me and help Ronnie here.”

Ronnie ground her teeth and grabbed some paperwork from the inbox on Danny’s desk. “I don’t need ‘help.’”

“Sure you do,” Devin said. “How long’s it been since you had a date?”

“My darling siblings run off my potential dates.”

“That’s not true!” Devin protested. “We just screen them carefully. To keep away those who aren’t good enough.”

Danny nodded. “The guys who wouldn’t be right for you in the long run, the guys who are too stupid to know how to change their own oil, the guys who only have One Thing in mind.”

“You mean like Dev?” she asked wryly.

“Exactly!” Devin flashed an unrepentant smile, then grimaced. “God forbid you go out with anyone like me. If you did, we’d have to kill him. You don’t want Kaitlyn and Ashley reduced to visiting Danny in prison, do you?”

It was time Ronnie got to work on a car. Interlocking automotive systems made far more sense than her knucklehead brothers. Besides, she felt like taking something apart with her hands. But Danny calling her name in a soft voice stopped her in the doorway.

She looked over her shoulder with mild curiosity. “Yes?”

“There isn’t someone…specific you’d like to date, is there?” he asked. “Someone like, well, Jason McDeere.”

“Jason McWho?” She felt herself go white. Literally felt all the blood drain from her face in an almost audible whoosh.

Danny held her gaze. “After we had dinner at Adam’s Ribs last week, Kaitlyn mentioned that you were watching Jason.”

Darn her sister-in-law’s keen powers of observation! “I was just admiring what a good father he is to that little girl,” Ronnie mumbled.

“See?” Devin’s posture relaxed. “She was melting over the kid, not the guy. Her biological clock’s probably in countdown mode.”

She was going to clock the next person who used that phrase! Still, hard to argue without invalidating her own alibi.

“But Kaitlyn said you were looking at McDeere the way I used to look at my old Thunderbird.”

Devin shook his head. “As much as I adore your wife, Danny-boy, I think she’s off base. McDeere’s a decent sort, but a high school English teacher? Not the most manly job, reading Lord Bryan and Edgar Allen Poe to kids all day.”

“It’s Lord Byron,” Ronnie snapped. “And how is shaping the minds of today’s youth and, by extension, the future of our country, somehow inferior to selling wiper fluid? Just because he doesn’t spend his time belching or scratching or chasing skirts at Guthrie Hall like you…Jason McDeere is an intelligent, charming, good-looking man, and any woman in town would be lucky to have him.

“Really good-looking,” she added in a breathless afterthought, temporarily recalling those eyes and that smile instead of her audience: two brothers who were now gaping.

“Well, I’ll be,” Devin said. “Kaitlyn was right.”

A slow smile spread across Danny’s face. “Ronnie’s in l-o-o-o-ve.”

“We may have to screen him,” Devin said thoughtfully.

“You stay away from Jason McDeere or I will bludgeon you unconscious with a crescent wrench!” On the heels of that threat, Ronnie spun around and headed for the repair bays.

Her interfering, overprotective brothers knew about her attraction to Jason. What were the odds that they wouldn’t mention it to her equally overprotective father? Ronnie groaned, inhaling the scent of gasoline and industrial cleaners. Was it too late to fake her own death, skip out of town and start a new life far from Joyous?

Preferably, a life without siblings.