Any Man of Mine (14 page)

The windows of James's house were open. And as I walked Spook past the house I heard it again. Sherry's keening wail.

Did that kid never settle?

In spite of the dust in my hair and the grit on my face, I could spare a moment of pity for James as I
brought Spook into the corrals. James wasn't getting much work done on setting up that knitting shop, and I understood Robin hadn't called him yet.

By the time I had Spook's tack put away and had fed him some oats, I noticed that Jace, Chip and Neil were back. I needed to get going.

As I walked back toward the house, I stretched my arms over my head. Come morning, I was going to discover muscles I hadn't known of for a while.

Then, as I passed James's house, I caught the scent of supper cooking. I lifted my face, sniffed again, turning my head to catch the scent like a hound on a trail. Though I knew God could move mountains, I figured that getting the boys to cook was a larger task. So I could only conclude that the wonderful smells I was catching stomach-groaning whiffs of was coming from James's house.

At least he wasn't coming over to our house for supper.

I imagined my brothers sitting in the living room, waiting patiently, or impatiently, for their sister to serve them. I decided it wouldn't hurt them to wait a little longer. Besides, James probably needed some help with that baby and the neighborly thing to do was find out.

He was juggling Sherry, a phone tucked against his shoulder, and talking loudly over her wails. He held a bottle in his free hand and every now and then he jabbed it in the general direction of Sherry's mouth. She fought, bucked and pushed it away.

“Can I help?” I called out over the noise of Sherry's crying.

James whirled around and the look of relief on his face as I approached him with my arms out was the best sight I'd seen all day.

“I'll go wash my hands,” I said and quickly cleaned up. Though my better judgment warned me against it, I allowed myself a glance at my reflection. Great. I cleaned my face as best as I could, but the strawlike tangle that was my hair, would have to wait until I showered. For now, I whisked my fingers through it and shrugged. From the sounds of Sherry's cries, James wasn't going to turn down my help based on the fact that I looked like a flushed scarecrow.

There was an awkward moment as I eased Sherry out of his arms. We bumped against each other, pulled away and finally I had the little babe cuddled against me, a bottle in her mouth while she sucked greedily at it.

James gave me a wink, then turned back to his phone conversation.

“What will the rent be for only half the building?”

I didn't mean to listen in, but the house was small and we were both in the living room and James was using the old-school phone that still hung on the wall. So he was tethered to the phone and I was kind of comfy curled up on James's leather couch with little Sherry. To keep my mind off James's conversation I talked to her.

“You're being a bad girl for your Uncle James, you know,” I said quietly, stroking her chubby hand with my pinky. Her fingers latched on while her plump lips worked the nipple, bubbles meowing their way up through the milk in the bottle. Large, round blue eyes stared up at me as if trying to decipher what I was doing in Uncle James's house.

“So if I can find another tenant, I can lease the whole complex for almost the same amount as what you were going to charge me for half,” James barked.

I jumped, Sherry flinched and I quickly turned my attention back to her, soothing her with nonsense words. I would have sung, but I didn't want to create a psychosis in the poor child.

James paced the room as he negotiated and talked, then finally hung up. He stood with his back to me, his hands clasped behind his head, his hair sticking out from between his fingers.

“It's times like these that I understand the Old Testament prophets much better,” James muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“You know, all those imprecations about fire and brimstone and pestilence. Don't you wish you could do some smiting sometimes?”

I thought about Casey and tried to imagine him with boils. “I'm more of a virtual reality smiter,” I said. “In real life I would end up feeling sorry for the very people I was cursing.”

He walked over and crouched beside me, his long
fingers slipping through Sherry's curls. “That's because you've got such a soft heart.”

“And because I'm such a soft touch. All people would have to do is make me feel guilty about what I've done and poof—” I waved my hand “—gone would be the sores and the palsy and the Hittites and Jebusites.”

“You're more of a New Testament person than I am,” he said quietly. “I think us guys prefer all those kings waging battle on other kings and eye-for-eye stuff. A little easier to work with than loving your enemy and doing good to those that hurt you.”

“I don't think women have an easier time with that,” I said quietly, watching how his hand so gently cradled his niece's head. “I think we have fewer options. Getting physical against an enemy isn't as easy as it is for men.”

He smiled up at me. “I learn something from you every day.”

I looked down at him, remembering the kiss we shared the last time I held his little niece. That kiss had been a mistake, I knew that. But for a brief moment, I wanted to repeat it. Try it one more time to see if that spark I had felt was real, or simply the imaginings of a lonely woman.

He rides broncs. Plays hockey.

Goes to church, takes care of his niece. Makes supper, from the smells I caught coming from the kitchen.

He's a guy. He is staying in Preston and he's going
to settle here. You'll never get away from your brothers or from Casey or from the relentlessness of your job.

I thought of Les. He was interested, he lived in the city and wore a suit and went to plays and offered to help me find an apartment when I moved. Which, from the way Casey was talking, was a fairly sure thing.

“Did you have a nice ride?”

My face flushed as I realized he must have seen my madcap race back home. “Yeah. I needed to get rid of some frustration.”

He tilted his head to one side, studying me. “Pushing limits can accomplish that.”

“That's why you like to ride broncs?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to live on the edge, I go grocery shopping without a list.”

“You're a madman.”

James chuckled and then a sharp rap on the door brought him to his feet.

“Is Danielle here?” Neil stuck his head in the door, caught sight of me and stepped inside. “Great. There you are. We were wondering when supper is. Chip has to head out to Kolvik to charm his little honey.”

I glanced down at Sherry. She was almost finished her bottle. “I'll be there once this little munchkin is done.”

“Oh, don't worry about that, sis. James can feed her.”

He sounded so reasonable I almost thought he
was giving me a chance to get away, when in fact he was saying he needed me. Now. I glanced up at James, who shook his head, as if telling me to be firm.

But now I was cornered. If I left now I would feel manipulated by my brothers. If I stayed, by James.

“Can I ask a favor of you?” James caught my indecision. “I need to make a bunch of phone calls. If you take Sherry to your place, I'll bring over the supper I've got cooking in the oven and share it with you and your family.”

Neil sniffed then nodded. “Smells like lasagna. You got enough?”

“Plenty. Is that okay with you?” James asked, turning to me.

“Sounds like a plan for me,” I said, trying not to be embarrassed by Neil's forthrightness and, at the same time, thankful for James's diplomacy.

I pulled the bottle out of Sherry's mouth, surprised at how strong her sucking reflex was. She batted at the bottle then started wailing when she realized nothing more was coming.

James had the phone in his hand, ready to make another call. There was no way he could carry on a conversation with this blessed infant carrying on, so I left.

The phone was jangling when I got into the house. Ignoring it wasn't in my genetics so I let Sherry's diaper bag slip off one arm as I juggled her to other. I caught the phone on the fourth ring.

“Hey, hon. I'm at loose ends next week,” Mrs.
Woytowich was saying in a relentlessly cheerful voice. “Can I come and clean your house for you?”

Was this woman for real? Asking if she could clean my house? “Of course…I mean, that would be wonderful. Please and thank you and all kinds of other gratitude…” I couldn't spill the words fast enough. “That would be wonderful.”

“Does nine o'clock on Tuesday work out for you?”

Midnight, early morning, anything would work out for me, I thought as my eyes swept over the room. Clothes in various states of cleanliness lay scattered over the furniture, plates from breakfast and lunch were spread out on the counter. Would simply piling them on top of one another threaten my brother's manliness?

“That would be perfect.” I glanced at the calendar and my heart fell. “Actually, Dad has an appointment with his doctor that day….” I let the sentence hang, wondering what she would do with the information.

“Oh, don't worry about that. I can bring him. That way you don't have to take time off work and deal with that little snake, Casey.”

Snake. Casey. I felt an un-Christian shot of relief that I wasn't the only person who knew what Casey was and thought the same of him. “How do you know my boss?”

“I've had dealings with him in the past,” Mrs. W. said. “He's pompous and self-righteous. I wish someone would tell him off.”

I did, too. But I wasn't going to take any chances
on being the one. He could be vindictive and nasty when crossed and until I was packing up my desk to leave, I was stuck with putting up with him.

The thought sent a searing shot of torment through my stomach.
Please, Lord,
I prayed,
let me get that job.

“Anyhow, you don't worry about your father or your house. I'll come and take care of things.”

She asked a few more questions about the house, told me what she needed to have ready when she came. She wanted a list. A list! I couldn't believe the blessing that had been dropped in my lap.
Thank You, Lord.

I said goodbye, hung up the phone and grinned down at Sherry, who had settled down nicely. “Did you hear that? Mrs. Woytowich wants me to make her a list? A list.” I repeated the words again, making them real. “And your Uncle James is bringing supper, which means I don't have to cook for those hulking brothers of mine who don't know the meaning of the words ‘move out.'” I sank into my dad's recliner, ignoring the blue jeans draped over the arm. I pulled up the footrest, appreciating the luxury of a few moments of empty time.

Sherry finally lay quiet in my arms, warm, soft and sweet-smelling. I stroked her petal soft cheek, relishing this gentle moment. She gurgled, tiny spit bubbles forming at the corners of her Cupid-bow lips as she waved her arms and kicked her feet with jerky little baby movements.

“Now that you're not crying, you are adorable,” I
cooed, stroking her cheek with my finger. She smiled, her little teeth glinting at me. “And I'm busy right now, taking care of you so I can't set the table. My lazy brothers are going to have to do that.”

Sherry cooed, then clapped her hands as if celebrating with me. A vague thought circled the edges of my mind, slowly taking shape.
I wonder what it would be like to have a child of my own.

I touched Sherry's cheek again, let my hand linger then caught myself mid-mush. I had plans. I had a future. It was in the city doing a job that didn't require dealing with the roughest elements of society.

But would you enjoy it? Wouldn't you miss the challenge?

Stay focused, I reminded myself. Stay with the plan.

I
kept my eyes on my plate and struggled to finish the small piece of lasagna I had taken. I took a quick drink of water, which helped get the dry, overcooked piece of pasta down. Another drink diluted the over-salted sauce. Around me my brothers were wolfing down a second helping.

“That was great, James.” My dad wiped his mouth, threw his napkin on his plate and sat back, patting his stomach.

“Yeah. You'll make some lucky woman a great husband,” Chip agreed, scraping the last of the lasagna off his plate.

I had set my culinary bar too high, I thought as I worked down the last mouthful of leathery lasagna. All these years of sautéing and fussing and seasoning were obviously wasted on my brothers. I could have saved myself a lot of work
if their effusive compliments were anything to go by.

“Good food, eh, Danielle?” Jace subtly nudged me with his elbow.

“Great.” Sherry squawked and I jumped up. “Oh goodness, I better get her changed.”

“Didn't you do that before supper?” James asked.

“Yeah, but I think she needs another one.” I gave him an apologetic smile, excused myself and got up. Once in the bathroom I quickly spit out the last bit of food I had squirreled away in one cheek and rinsed out my mouth. Sherry's diaper was dry, as I knew it would be. I needed the excuse to get rid of the last of my supper.

I set Sherry on the floor and as I quickly washed my hands I glanced at myself in the mirror. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes. Wasn't caused by the food, that was for sure. The company?

Try as I might, I couldn't eradicate James's kiss or the moments that led up to it. He could actually be serious. Talk about going to church. Then he actually came to church.

He was messing with my plans and my mind.

He's attractive and pleasant and you like him.

He's a lousy cook. Aren't men supposed to be good cooks? They are in all the movies.

At least he tried. When was the last time any of your brothers did more than open a can of readymade soup? Admit it, you like him.

Sherry kicked her feet, as if trying to get my atten
tion and her little running shoe fell off. I bent over to pick it up and then someone was knocking on the door.

“Everything okay in here?”

James.

Heat chased up my cheeks, making them even pinker than they were. “I'll be right there,” I said, quickly wetting a face cloth with cold water and pressing it against my face. For good measure I switched the water to warm and quickly wiped Sherry's shining cheeks. She twisted her head away and started to cry. I picked her up, cuddled her close and then opened the door.

James stood in the doorway, his arm resting against it. He smiled as I came out and held out his hands for his niece. “I'll take her.”

“I don't mind.” And I didn't. Sherry was a cute little bundle when she wasn't howling, and I didn't often have the chance to cuddle a happy baby.

The boys and Dad were already in the living room arguing about which sports program they were going to watch. Dad was in remarkably high spirits.

The dishes scattered over the table, not so good. Guess I would have to postpone the baby cuddling for a while. I was about to hand Sherry to James when I stopped, looked from the kitchen to my brothers to James, who was watching me to see what I would do.

I may be slow, but I can be taught. Eventually. If I didn't start training these guys now, they would be at a loss by the time I left.

“Hey, guys, how about some help with the dishes?” Okay, not exactly firm and forceful, but hopefully they got the message.

Neil looked at me. Frowned. “What did you say?” Had I just spoken in some foreign language? I guess I should be glad he noticed me. Chip and Jace were still flipping through the channels, intent on maximizing their sports absorption. Obviously a firmer direction was needed.

I walked to the living room, still holding Sherry. “Neil, you can clear the table and take care of the leftovers. Chip and Jace, you guys can wash and dry.” I looked at my dad sitting comfortably in his recliner and realized that he needed to participate, as well. “Dad, you know where everything goes, you can put the dishes away.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at me, as if I had suddenly mutated into a puzzling subspecies of sister and daughter. I found their lack of jumping-to-it disturbing. “Now,” I said, as if talking to a group of school children.

Then, like a dream, four figures lumbered to their feet and slowly moved past me to the kitchen, tatters of sighs drifting back as they passed.

James gave me a thumbs-up sign behind their backs.

“You have to help, too, dude,” Chip called out to James.

“Nope. I'm exempt. I made supper.”

Chip shrugged. “Fair enough.” And that was that.

I stayed a moment, watching the unreal scenario of my brothers and father working in the kitchen. Water sloshed on the floor, knives fell and the banter rose to a dull roar as towels snapped and plates crashed into the dishwasher.

I had to get out of here.

Sherry and I settled on one corner of the couch and to my surprise and discomfort, James settled in on the other, his long legs spread out in front of him.

“Feels good doesn't it?” He slid me a smile. “Being all bossy and in charge.”

“A wonderful sense of power,” I admitted. “My brothers are an occasional mystery, but sometimes they do surprise me.”

“Like I said, they like you. They just need some guidance.” He turned serious. “They're also lucky to have you.”

His unexpected compliment brought a flush to my cheeks.

“Really. Robin has been…” He let the sentence drift off as he shook his head. “All her life I've been there for her, then she disappears for a year and shows up with a baby that she casually dumps on me and leaves.” He dragged his hand over his face and blew out a sigh. “What am I supposed to do with her?”

I was at a loss, as well, but abandoned and neglected children were part of my job. For now. “If you want I could look at in-home care for Sherry or, failing that, place her in a temporary foster home.” I looked down
at Sherry, who lay, for now, contentedly in my arms. Her mouth was pursed up, her lips moving up and down as if she were getting the dregs out of a phantom bottle.

“No way.”

The strength of his tone made me look up. James eyes snapped to mine, blazing with an intensity that took my breath away. “I'd never let anyone else take care of my niece. She's my responsibility and I care about her.”

I nodded slowly and held up a hand in a reconciling gesture. “I'm getting that,” I said quietly, pleased at his defense of this little girl. In my line of work I saw so few guys take responsibility for their own children, that it was heartwarming to see this man so defensive of a niece.

“Sorry about the high drama moment,” he said, settling back with an embarrassed look. “Robin and I have only ever had each other. I've always been the one to take care of her.”

“So you've been enabling a sibling, as well,” I said, with a knowing lift of my eyebrows.

James threw me a puzzled glance, then one corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I've only been enabling one, you've been working on three and a father.”

“I qualify for a group rate.” I shrugged. “Robin's lucky to have you looking out for her.” The vaguely winsome note slipped unexpectedly into my voice. For a moment I was jealous of Robin.

“In their own convoluted way your brothers look out for you, too.”

I heard the crash of some plates and Neil's voice chastising Chip, telling him to be careful. “You think?” I asked, grimacing.

“I know. They talk about you lots and not just in a housekeeper or cook capacity.”

My brothers weren't given to random acts of affection and their body language was unreadable. But James's comment gave me a sliver of hope for appreciation when I was gone. That and the sounds of progress being made coming out of the kitchen.

“So what are you going to do about Robin?” I asked, cuddling Sherry a little closer. She yawned, batted her hand in the air, then slowly let it drop as her eyes slid shut.

“Besides hunting her down and reading her the riot act?” He scratched his chin with his forefinger, then shrugged. “Not much I can except wait for her to start feeling maternal. The biggest problem with that plan of inaction is that in the meantime I'm trying to set up this business and toting a baby is really putting a crimp in my style.”

“Now seriously, what kind of business are you setting up?” I asked. “I have this inkling it's not a knitting shop.” I shifted the now sleeping Sherry in my arms, getting a bit more comfortable.

“How do you know?” He canted his head to one side, granting me a semiflirtatious sidelong glance.

It made me feel a little wobbly. “I know, because
you don't have knitter's shoulder,” I joked, hoping to allay the sensations his attention gave me.

A slow smile slipped across his face. “Okay. I'll bite. What is knitter's shoulder?”

I looked away, the wobbly sensation increasing. “A condition that affects chronic knitters,” I said, trying to sound serious. “After prolonged periods of knitting the right shoulder twitches upward at one-second intervals.”

“You're making that up.”

I sighed my defeat. “I thought I was better than that.”

He laughed lightly. “I don't think you know how to lie.”

“Oh, don't grant me sainthood yet,” I said. “In grade four I told Tommy Petrenko that I knew how to drive a tractor when it was really Jace who was driving. He just let me steer.”

“How old was Jace?”

“Probably about fourteen.” I had forgotten how Jace used to let me “help” him drive when he was baling straw in the fall. Everyone had a job during harvest. Chip would be with Mom, who drove the grain truck between the fields and the yard, Neil would be back at the farm to help with unloading and Dad would be combining. Jace would take me in the tractor while he baled straw. My job was to make sure the baler wasn't plugging up and to count bales. My best days were the ones when Jace let me “drive” the tractor even though he was barely old enough to be driving himself.

“That's a wonderful memory,” James said quietly.

“Yeah. It is.” I smiled thinking about it. Even got a momentary warm feeling about my brothers, which was kind of unusual these days. I turned back to James, feeling all mellow. “So, really, what are you figuring on doing?”

“Actually I've been dabbling in restoring older cars. I've been getting busier with it and thought I would give a shot at doing it full-time.”

“Hence the lease on the building.”

“Hence.” He laughed. “I didn't think people used that word anymore.”

“It's in the social worker phrase book. ‘At age six, Zeke was pushed out of the line for the slide at the playground,
hence
his use of his fists to make his point with the current caseworker.'”

“You ever get hit?”

“By some of the younger clients. I've been threatened by the older ones.”

“You sound so casual about it. Aren't you ever afraid?”

“Sometimes. I pray a lot and trust that God will protect me.” I thought of Steve Stinson. He was one person who genuinely gave me the creeps, but so far I haven't had to deal with him again. I hoped Chip wouldn't, either.

“So you have your extreme moments in your line of work, as well.”

“I suppose I do, though I don't think of it that way. It's part of my job.”

Another shared smile. This time I didn't look away, though I should have. James's expression grew serious and our previous kiss loomed large between us. I had to forget it. I had to keep my eye on the prize. A shiny new job in the city.

So why didn't I break the connection? It was simple kinetics. Lower chin, move eyes. Invisible hands held my head, kept me looking at him. Losing my breath.

“So, dishes are done, wicked stepsister. Anything else on your agenda?” Neil called out as he, Chip and Jace trooped into the living room.

My heart started up again, thudding in my chest. I diverted my attention to my brothers.

“Where's Dad?” I asked.

“He's still trying to figure out where to put the salad spoons.” Jace dropped into one of the easy chairs and kicked aside the pile of newspapers on the coffee table so he could put his feet there. “We could have told him, but what would be the fun in that?”

Chip sat on the couch between us and Jace shot him a warning look. Oblivious to Jace's unspoken hint, Chip slouched down, wiggled a bit to get comfortable and folded his hands over his stomach. “Any word on that lease yet?” he asked James, rolling his head sideways.

James didn't say anything. Chip poked him. “Yo. James, my man. Talking at ya.”

James blinked, as if coming from a ways away, then gave Chip an apologetic look. “Sorry, brain freeze.”

“Asking about the lease.”

James nodded and brought them up to date on his progress. “So I need a tenant for the other half of the building.” He glanced from Neil to Chip. “You guys have been complaining long enough about your boss. What do you think of starting up your own place? Taking up the other half of the lease on the building I'm looking at. I'd cut you a deal.”

“I tried that already,” Chip sighed. “No joy with the bank people.”

The despondent note in his voice brought out my maternal instincts. I wanted to put my arm around him and comfort him. In spite of his tattoos and tough talk, he was a softie and I didn't want to see him disappointed again.

“I know. Neil told me,” James said. “But if you had a backer, I'm sure you could get the money from the bank.”

“And where would I get a backer?”

James leaned forward looking from Neil to Chip, his expression serious. “I've got a bunch of money set aside. I'd be willing to put up the money in your business as a silent partner.”