Читать книгу What The Nursery Needs... - Terry Essig, Terry Essig - Страница 9
ОглавлениеChapter One
The dark blue sedan drew up to the curb, its speed slowing to match the pace of the young preadolescent girl walking down the sidewalk. With a near silent whisper, the passenger side window slid down. The driver leaned over to call out through the opening, “Hey, you with the snazzy earrings, want a ride? I’ve got candy.” He let the temptation dangle in the air between them.
The child, temporarily forgetting the embarrassment of her barely burgeoning breasts, pulled her shoulders back and glared in the direction of the car. “No, thanks,” she said, adjusting her backpack strap on her shoulder and picking up her pace. “My father doesn’t want me talking to strange men.”
The man behind the wheel slumped briefly. The emphasis on the word father didn’t bode well. Whatever happened to daddy? He sighed and stepped slightly on the gas. The car surged just enough to keep him abreast of the girl. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’ve got a ton of candy in here. Wouldn’t you like a treat after a hard day at school?”
The girl stopped in her tracks and turned to face the car. “What kind of candy?” she asked.
“Get in the car and I’ll show you.”
“It’s probably something I don’t even like.”
“Bet it’s not. I bet it’s your favorite.”
At that, the girl flipped her ponytail and left the safety of the sidewalk. She approached the car. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see.” Her eyes widened at the variety of candy bars displayed on the front seat. Without hesitating any further, she opened the passenger door and slid in. The car gunned away from the curb to merge seemlessly back into traffic.
Her favorite was indeed there, but when the girl made to take it, the man’s hand stayed hers. “The deal is if you take that, it means the snit is officially over and you have to start talking to me again.”
The preadolescent’s eyes narrowed as she considered the catch. “Will you let Connie and me go to the mall together?”
“No. Not without an adult. My answer to that won’t change. I work with somebody whose name is forever sealed behind my lips, so don’t ask, whose niece runs in that same group. She tells me Connie and another girl were picked up for shoplifting some makeup—lipstick and stuff like that. The manager of the store let it drop when Connie’s mother made her apologize and pay double, but she might not be so lucky next time. If you’re out with somebody like that, even if you haven’t taken anything yourself, you could get picked up as an accessory, to say nothing of the fact that it just isn’t safe for two young girls to be at the mall by themselves. And don’t start on how nothing ever happens in South Bend or even the entire state of Indiana. You’ve said it all before and I still say there are too many weirdos out there.”
“Connie said she didn’t know how that lipstick got in her pocket. She thinks maybe it rolled off the shelf while she was standing there. Or else maybe Angie slipped it into her shorts pocket at the checkout when she was waiting to pay for her gum, just to get her in trouble. They had a fight that day.”
The disbelieving adult snort was loud and prolonged. “Yeah, right. How stupid do I look?”
“Besides, lots of other kids I know have tried shoplifting. They just didn’t get caught.”
“Let me put it to you this way, sweetie. You even think about trying it and you won’t set so much as a big toe outside your bedroom door for a month of Sundays. Understand?”
“But, Dad...”
Jason John Engel silently ground his teeth at his daughter’s whining tone. “I mean it, Maura, issues like this are nonnegotiable. The candy doesn’t mean I’m weakening, just that I’m willing to sweeten the refusal. Like I told you before, I can probably take you and a friend, preferably not Connie, to the mall this weekend, if you want.”
“No. Everybody else gets to go to the mall by themselves. It would be too embarrassing if anybody saw. I’d never be able to face my friends again.”
Jason shrugged, knowing he shouldn’t take her rejection personally, but doing so, anyway. “Fine. Then you don’t go.”
His twelve-year-old daughter, he noticed, ground her teeth exactly the way he did when frustrated. But she did take the candy bar. He waited until after her first bite. “So we’re talking again, right?”
Maura’s mouth stilled briefly as she stopped chewing and eyed him. Jason just hoped she wasn’t going to spit the candy all over him. He was wearing a good suit. Eventually she nodded her head in the affirmative.
Jason was afraid his relief was palpable in the car. It was scary how much control a twelve-year-old could wield with her moods and whims. It amounted . to emotional blackmail at times.
“By the way,” he said. “I want you to walk home from school on the opposite side of the street from now on. Did you see how easy it was for me to stay next to you and talk to you? If I’d have had a mind to, I could have easily hopped out of the car and grabbed you. On the other side of the street, you’d be walking against traffic, and it would be much harder for anybody in a car to harrass you.”
“Dad,” Maura began kindly, too kindly for Jason’s peace of mind. In his experience, that kind of patient tone boded nothing but ill for what followed.
“Maura, please, let’s not argue about this, too. Just do it, all right? Just do it.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.”
“Thank you,” Jason said fervently and meant it. He was so grateful, he pretended not to notice the heavy-duty eye rolling that accompanied the exasperated agreement. “Thank you very much.” He pulled around a corner onto his own street, and three blocks later pulled into his driveway.
Maura leaned forward interestedly as the car stopped next to the house. “Look, Dad, there’s somebody moving in next door.”
“Hmm?” Jason glanced up from collecting his briefcase and newspaper to see what had caught his daughter’s attention. “Oh. that’s nice. That house has been empty for so long I didn’t think anybody would ever buy it. Vacant houses lower the property values in an area. And, I suppose it’ll be good to have neighbors again, eh, Maura?”
“I wonder if there’s anybody my age.”
“Could be,” her father mumbled noncommittally as he fumbled with the door handle. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
Maura’s shoulders slumped more than usual as she walked around the rear of the car. “Look, they’re moving in a crib and a bassinet. I guess that means no friend for me.”
“Not necessarily,” Jason said as he pushed his key into the front door lock. “The baby could have an older sister and if not, think about the baby-sitting jobs that could come your way.” Money always appealed at this age. The thought of it should perk Maura right up.
It did, too. Her shoulders briefly straightened before she remembered to round them again. “Yes, Annie O’Connor had the cutest sweatshirt on at school yesterday, but she said it cost $38 and I knew you’d never pay that much for a sweatshirt. If I earn half baby-sitting, do you think you’d pay the other half, Dad?”
Jason set his briefcase down on the wooden floor of the front foyer and balanced his newspaper on top of it before tiredly rubbing his eye. “Uh, I’ll think about it, okay? Don’t eat any more of those candy bars before dinner, Maura,” he instructed as he noticed the fistful she clasped. “I don’t want you filling up on junk. Do me a favor and ration them over the next few days so I don’t feel so guilty about buying you such swill.”
Maura shrugged and crossed her fingers behind her back. “Okay, no problem, Dad.”
“Terrific,” Jason said, not believing a word of it. “I’m going to change, then see what I can put together for dinner. You’re in charge of a salad.”
“No prob.”
Jason merely grunted on his way up the stairs. Man, what a day. But at least Maura was more or less speaking to him again—if you could call this communicating.
Next door, Catherine Marie Nicholson let out a grunt. “There,” she said as she hefted another heavy cardboard box onto a stack of similar boxes in her new kitchen. “That’s the last of the dish boxes I think. Next time I move, I’m going to remember not to put so much in the boxes. These suckers are heavy!”
“Next time you move,” her sister Monica responded as she leaned against the countertops while she caught her breath, “you’ll have to give me more of an advance notice so I can be sure to have other plans for the day.”
“You don’t mean that,” Catherine assured her as she filled two cups with tap water and handed one to Monica.
“Oh, yes I do.”
“I’ll make it up to you. How about if I take Amy all day Saturday? You can spend it pottering around doing whatever you feel like.”
Monica set her cup down after chugging the liquid. “What kind of deal is that? You adore Amy. You’re always trying to get your grimy little mitts on her so that you can have your monthly ‘kid fix.’ When are you going to break down and have one of your own?”
“Actually, I’ve been giving that a great deal of thought lately,” Catherine admitted to her sister.
“Yeah? Come to any earth-shattering conclusions? Like time to stop being so dam picky and marry Gerald?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Catherine made a dismissing gesture. “I’ll never be that hard up. Gerald and I had already been out looking for a diamond when I discovered he was seeing Caroline Neeley on the sly. That poor girl had no idea Gerald had proposed to me, the dirtbag. No, forget Gerald. Forget men. I’ve come up with a different approach entirely.” She reached for the cleaning supplies she’d stacked in one corner. “Help me wipe out the cabinets and lay some shelf paper so I can start emptying these boxes, will you?”
“Having a baby is not exactly a do-it-yourself kind of project, you know. You’re a natural nurturer. It’s why you keep borrowing Amy. It’s why you keep falling in love with the cribs you sell in your kids’ resale shop. You need children of your own to feel fulfilled. You know that and I know that. You’ve been looking for Mr. Right for close to five years now,” Monica said as she grudgingly picked up a sponge. “Why give up now? Twenty-seven isn’t that old. You’ve still got time.”
“Nope. Gerald was the last straw. I give up. I’m throwing in the towel. I decided just last night, as a matter of fact, that it was time to move on to plan B.”
“I didn’t know there was a plan B.”
“There wasn’t. Now there is. It’s simple. Go to a sperm bank.”
Monica almost fell off the ladder she was standing on. “What?”
“You heard me. Cut out the middle man, go directly to the source. From what I understand, people do it all the time.”
Catherine dunked her sponge in her bucket and began to wipe out the interior of a bottom cabinet. Her plan made perfect sense to her. One had to be flexible in this life. A determined person could always find a way to achieve her goal.
Monica, however, was not convinced. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. You’d be adding a middle man, not taking one away. The man is the source.”
Catherine pulled her head out of the cabinet she’d been scrubbing and threw her sponge into the bucket, splashing soapsuds on the floor. “Fine, if you want to play word games, be that way, but you know what I mean. If I really want a baby, which I do, I need to start rethinking the whole project. Otherwise it’s going to remain nothing but an unattainable dream.” She squeezed out the sponge and attacked the next cabinet in line.
Monica opened the cabinet next to the one she’d just finished. Her voice was muffled now and echoed slightly, but her disapproval was still clear. “You were always daydreaming and playing pretend as a kid. You’ve gotten a lot better about getting real. We’re all so proud of the way you’ve made your business succeed, but there’s such a thing as taking it too far. Just be patient. Some guy will turn up, and I’d hate to have you miss all the fun involved in creating a baby naturally. I meant what I said about you being a natural candidate for motherhood, Cath, but I know you like I know the back of my own hand, and I’m telling you I don’t think you’ll be happy doing it this way. You crave family. The whole shebang. You need the husband to go along with the kiddies. I know.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately, Prince Charming is taken, Monica. Cinderella got her claws into him before I even had a chance. I almost made a very bad mistake out of what I now see was desperation. I’m not going to risk it again.”
Monica sat heavily on the third step of her ladder. “But a sperm bank? It seems so cold—so impersonal. Your baby’s not going to know its daddy?” she asked weakly.
Catherine backed out of the cabinet and shrugged at her sister. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. A lady brought in the most beautiful four-poster canopy crib for me to sell for her last week. I brought it home. As a matter of fact, last night I also decided to decorate the spare bedroom as a nursery instead of an office. What do you think of that?”
“Oh, my God, you’re really serious about this.”
Catherine nodded emphatically. “You bet I am. I’m going to decorate that room, set up the crib, then fill it. I am not about to go sit in there every evening and get maudlin over the empty crib. I’ve got my college degree, my resale shop is doing fantastically well, and now I’ve even got my own home. Things aren’t going to get much more orderly than that, and so I’m going to bite the bullet. No time like the present, and all of that. I’m going for it, Mon.”
Monica stared at her sister. “I can’t believe this.”
Catherine nodded firmly. “Believe it.”
“Do you even know where there is a sperm bank?”
“No, but how difficult can they be to find? You read about people using them all the time in the newspaper.”
“Usually because there’s been a problem. All the sperm defrosted or somebody’s is missing. Something awful like that.”
Catherine shrugged off Monica’s concern. “Well, they’re not going to publish the normal day-to-day success cases, are they? You know the press. They only publish the grimmest of the grim.”
“I don’t know, Cath. I mean, what if you got overfertilized and ended up with sextuplets or something? I hear that happens all the time at those places. How would you handle a multiple birth all by yourself? You’d be too tired to run the shop.
“And besides, I bet you don’t have even the foggiest idea how to find a sperm bank or what to do or say if you did. Do you know anybody who knows anything about this? Outside of the newspaper stories, I mean. Those all seemed to be in California, as I recall, and you don’t want a baby born with a need to go surfing. He’d be in for a real disappointment here in South Bend.”
“All right, so I’ll rule out any sperm that might have originated in California.” Catherine agreed with a shrug. “It’s a big country, even without California. I’m sure there are plenty of other sperm out there. And think about this, Mon. Doing it this way I can have the absolute baby of my dreams. I can probably just give them a checklist of attributes I want. Blond hair, blue eyes, IQ over 120.”
Monica rolled her eyes, and Catherine gave her a disapproving look.
“Quit being so discouraging. I’m telling you, my plan is scientifically sound. I’d have a say in all that stuff, whereas if I sit around waiting to fall in love, I’d have to take whatever I’ve fallen for. Gerald wasn’t all that hot looking, but he was smart and seemed nice enough—or so I thought. This way, I can have it all. Oops, we’ll have to finish talking about this later. Here comes dinner.”
And in fact, before Catherine could even pull herself to her feet, the back door opened to admit Monica’s husband and their twelve-year-old daughter, both carrying bags brimming over with small white cartons of Chinese takeout.
“We’re back,” Don Davies announced as though a broad-shouldered six-foot-two man stood a chance of going unnoticed. “And we’ve got supper with us. You two find the plates and silverware yet?”
“We’re not quite ready,” Catherine said as she emptied her bucket into the sink. “We got kind of distracted,” she confessed with a glare at her sister. “But I know what box they’re in.” Catherine had known Donald a long time. The man got cranky when he got hungry. It was best to keep him fed. “Everything go okay?” she asked as she began to rearrange boxes to get at what she hoped was the right one.
“Yep,” Don assured her as he began pulling cartons from the bags and setting them on the kitchen table. “This smells good. I’m starving. We returned the rented van—you owe me an extra twenty-seven bucks, by the way—dropped off John, picked up the food and came right back. Todd and Mary Fran take off?” he asked, naming several more relatives who had helped with the move.
“Yes,” Monica confirmed before Catherine had a chance. “Just a little while ago.”
Don moved all the boxes and papers that had been stacked all over the table and onto the countertop. “There, now we’ve got some room. You find those forks yet?”
“I think so—yes! Here they are.” Catherine looked up from the carton she’d just pulled the flap up from to successfully wave an eating implement.
There was an unexpected knock and all four heads turned to glance curiously at the back door.
“You expecting anybody?” Don asked Catherine, immediately slipping into the role of protective brother-in-law.
Catherine shook her head.
“Well,” Monica huffed, but at least she kept her voice down, “you’d think the neighbors would at least give you a day or two to unpack before they descend on you.”
“Amy, honey, would you get that for me?” Catherine asked. “I’ve still got to find the box with the dinner plates.”
A few moments later Amy returned with a girl about her age. “Aunt Cath,” Amy said, drawing the girl into the room, “this is my friend from school, Maura. Guess what?”
“What?”
“Maura lives right next door to you.”
Catherine said, “Awesome. You can see each other when you’re over, Amy.”
Amy nodded wisely. “I know.”
“And maybe sometimes when I borrow you from your mom so we can go out and do girl stuff, Maura’s mom will let me borrow her, too, and all three of us can go. What do you think?”
“Cool. Isn’t that the best, Maura?” Amy asked.
“Oh, I hardly ever see my mom,” Maura informed Catherine. “She sends me cards and stuff, but she’s too busy with her new family in Chicago and can’t get away to see me too much anymore. But I could ask my dad.” Maura, who’d been looking quite pleased and eager over this new development in her life, appeared suddenly doubtful. “Maybe he’d let me.”
Catherine smiled, briefly flashing her dimples. “It can’t hurt to ask, right?” she said to her new neighbor. But she couldn’t help wondering what kind of father wouldn’t let a child go out on a well-chaperoned excursion to such a nearby and unexotic destination as the local mall. “Amy, has Maura met your mom and dad? Maybe you’d better introduce them.”
Maura turned to beam a smile at Monica and Don. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Davies, remember me? I met you at the girls’ basketball game the other night.”
Before Monica or Don had a chance to respond, there was another knock on the door.
Don eyed the cartons of takeout in long-suffering martyrdom. “Good grief, this is turning into Grand Central Station. We’re never going to get to eat.” He groaned as Monica gave him an elbow in the ribs and a warning frown.
Catherine opened the back door to find a large and rather handsome, albeit frantic-looking, male on her back patio.
“Excuse me,” the stranger began before Catherine could get out a single word, “I live right next door,” and he pointed right next door to illustrate his claim. “My daughter seems to be missing, and I was wondering if by any remote possibility—Maura, there you are. My God, child, you almost put me into an early grave. Don’t ever just take off like that again, do you hear me?”
Catherine looked over her shoulder to see how Maura was taking this parental outburst. The child wore a long-suffering expression that made Catherine smile.
“Daaad,” his progeny moaned in despair. “What did you think, that I got kidnapped or something? I was making a salad like you said for me to do. I looked out the window and saw my friend Amy. I ran over to see if this was her new house, but it’s not. I’m just saying hello, and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to finish the salad, okay?”
Jason took a calming breath, wondering as he did so if he would live through his daughter’s preadolescence. You could forget the actual teenage years. There was no doubt in his mind he’d be six feet under long before he managed to shepherd her through adolescence, but he would like to eke out another year or two of life before his heart gave up in disgust. “Maura, it wouldn’t have even taken two seconds for you to yell up the stairs and tell me what you were doing. Two seconds.”
“It’s not like I knew you were going to blow a gasket or anything.”
“Honey, I thought you were still mad at me and had taken off again. It took me three hours to find you after I yelled at you for the cigarette pack I found in your room.”
“Well, that wasn’t fair because I was just keeping it for Marissa. She didn’t want her mother to find it at her house.”
Jason arched a brow. “The only reason I even thought to look through your things was because some of your clothing smelled like smoke when I was doing the laundry.”
“Oh. Well—”
“Don’t bother. The point is I’d made it halfway through the student directory before Kelsey Earling’s mother admitted you were there. I wasn’t looking forward to going through that again.”
Jason took a deep breath to settle himself. “Okay. You didn’t run away. You have my apology for thinking such evil thoughts. Now, since you’ve already barged in on the new neighbors, why don’t you introduce me?”
“Cath,” Don practically barked, “the plates?”
“For heaven’s sake, Donald,” Catherine replied tersely. “I found you a fork, didn’t I? Just eat it out of the dam carton and keep quiet.”
Great, thought Jason tiredly. As if he didn’t have enough of it, the new neighbors were the kind who sniped at each other. How wonderful. Patiently he stuck the introductions out. “I understand your husband’s irritation. You’ve had a long day with the moving and all. And we’re interrupting your dinner. My name is Jason Engel, that’s my daughter, Maura, and we are leaving—right now. Maura, say goodbye to your friend. Welcome to the neighborhood. Nice to meet you all. Come on, kiddo, you’ve got a salad to finish up.”
Maura immediately dug in her heels. “But, Dad...”
After a year of raising his daughter all by himself, Jason was finally beginning to understand the necessity of heading this kind of thing off at the pass, child-rearing books be damned. “No ands, ifs, or buts about it, sweetie, we’re going. This falls under the general heading of rudeness and learning how not to be.”
Catherine was enjoying Maura’s antics. As for Jason Engel, well, he seemed frazzled, but all right in his own way. His heart seemed in the right place, at any rate. If she wanted to get to know the daughter better, maybe borrow her if she needed a kid fix and Amy was busy, Catherine knew instinctively she’d have to walk a fine line with the father and avoid alienating him. She could tell he was very protective of his offspring.
“If it’s any consolation,” Monica said to Jason, “your daughter waited a year longer than Amy here before trying a cigarette. Fortunately, it made her as sick as a dog and that was the end of that.”
“Mom,” Amy wailed with a horrified look. “How did you know?”
“You think I didn’t know what was behind your green complexion and upset stomach when you came home from that overnight last fall? With the way your clothing reeked of tobacco? Get real, kid. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Monica looked Jason Engel up and down speculatively. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. You could almost see the proverbial lightbulb flash over her head. “Don bought enough Chinese for one of my brothers and his wife, too, but they had to leave. Why don’t you and Maura finish up your salad and bring it over here? By the time you get back, Catherine or I will have found the plates and we’ll all share what we’ve got.”
Maura looked pleadingly at her father, and he knew if he said no, he’d be out buying more candy bars tomorrow. Oh, well. “Maura, it’s infringing. They haven’t even had a chance to open a box yet—”
“They could all come to our house, couldn’t they, Dad? That wouldn’t be infringing. It would be gracious on our part, right?”
Catherine had to hide a grin at the child’s ingenuousness. She turned her attention back to Jason and waited.
“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Jason replied. “But as you well know, there are exceptions to every rule. Times when normal protocol doesn’t apply.”
Maura scowled suspiciously. “Like when?”
“Like when somebody gets so excited at seeing somebody they know, they race out of the house without turning off the kitchen faucet.”
Maura studied the floor. “Oh. But nothing bad happ—”
“Like when the lettuce that somebody was washing covers up the drain in that sink, causing it to overflow.”
“Uh-oh.”
“And finally, like when that same somebody’s father races into the kitchen to get to the tap, slides on the wet floor, tries to catch himself only to knock a bottle of salad dressing off the countertop and have it smash all over the floor leaving glass shards everywhere that he hasn’t had time to clean up yet because he went looking for his daughter. That’s like when.”
Maura looked everywhere but at her father. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, sorry about that, Dad.”
Catherine finally took pity. “Sounds like you’ve had a heck of an afternoon,” she told Jason. “Let the mess sit there for a while. It won’t go anywhere. As long as you don’t object to the chaos here, I don’t mind. Sit down. Eat. Fortify yourself for the cleanup ahead of you.”
Maura looked at her father pleadingly.
Jason rubbed the back of his neck in a tired gesture. “All right, if you’re sure you don’t mind. I’ll go salvage what I can of the salad. I think I’ve got another bottle of salad dressing in the fridge. Maura, you come help.”
Maura grabbed Amy’s hand and tugged her along in her wake. “Amy can come too, right. Dad?”
Jason grunted his agreement as he opened the back door and held it for the two girls. They shot through the opening and kept right on going. He sighed. “When a gentleman holds the door for you, you’re supposed to say ‘thank you,”’ he called after them, shaking his head. Damn, but this parenting was work.
“I don’t have any beer in the house,” Catherine advised him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to bring your own if you don’t want pop or water.”
Jason shook his head regretfully. He could sure use one. “I don’t keep anything alcoholic in the house,” he said with a sigh of regret. Not since Karen had remarried and Maura had come to live with him. Bad example. “Water or soda will be fine. We’ll be back in five minutes, no more, I promise.”
As soon as the door slammed, Monica was up and standing on tiptoes to look out the kitchen window at their retreating backs. “Did you hear what that little girl said, Cath?”
“No, what?”
Monica grabbed both Catherine’s arms and held her still. She spoke softly, not wanting Don to overhear. “Cath, that child said it was just her and her dad living there. The mother’s remarried.”
“Yes, so?”
“So, he’s tall and has a nice body to go along with the height. If his hair was any darker brown it would be black, eyes to match. He’s as handsome as sin. Good God, the man even has manners. Forget about your blond, blue-eyes fetish for a minute. Did you see the way he held the door for the girls? My gosh, if I can see it, why can’t you? That, my dear, is prime marital material! I’m thinking that you can still have it all! Why, any idiot with even minimal level hormones could fall for that hunk. All you would have to do is get him to fall in love with you, and presto, instant family.”
