Home Field Advantage (7 page)

"Daddy!"

"Hey, pumpkin!" He
swung his small daughter high into the air before enveloping her in a hug.
"I missed you."

Marian knew she'd been
forgotten, and a lump formed in her throat. Was she jealous? Had her feelings
grown so out of control? No, it was more complicated than that. She was seeing
what she'd once imagined Mark would be like with his children. She was seeing a
love that excluded her, because she wasn't a part of it. She was only a
caretaker for Emma. For John, she was a reasonably attractive woman he enjoyed
bantering with. Neither John nor Emma could guess how the tenderness they felt
for each other increased the deep ache of loneliness in Marian's heart. Why it
did, she didn't totally understand herself.

When father and daughter
turned toward her, she smiled casually. "I'll see you next Friday,
Emma?"

John's eyes narrowed, but he
didn't comment directly. "Get your stuff, hon."

As Emma danced away, John
crossed his arms and leaned lazily against the wall. "Have you thought any
more about Snowball and the goat?"

Marian shook her head.
"I'm worrying more about myself and the kids right now. I have to find a
rental for us first."

"If you need any
help..."

"Thank you," she
said, not letting him finish. "But I'll find something."

His gray eyes searched hers.
"I mean it, you know."

"And I'm grateful,"
Marian said formally.

"Don't be
stubborn."

"My husband used to say
that stubborn was my middle name." She smiled at the little girl, who had
reappeared clutching her possessions. "Did you get your Barbie stuff?"

"Yes, except I couldn't
find my Jewel Secrets necklace. But I'll find it next weekend."

John handed Marian a check.
"See you Friday?"

"Friday," she
confirmed.

He paused on the doorstep.
"By the way, what'd you think of the game?"

Taken by surprise, she said,
"It was exciting. Lots more exciting than baseball."

Laughter glinted in his eyes.
"Trying to overwhelm me with faint praise?"

Nothing she felt for him was
faint, except perhaps her pulse. "No," she said. "Really, I
enjoyed it."

"Marian screamed at the
TV set," Emma said from just behind him.

He raised one eybrow and
grinned, clearly enjoying Marian's blush. "Did she really?" he
murmured. "Good. That brings me to something I wanted to ask you."

Emma tugged on his arm.
"What's that, Daddy?"

"You go get in the car,
hon. I'll be there in a second."

Marian felt as though she
were teetering on the edge of a cliff, and he was going to ask her to jump.
With him. No, worse yet, he had something utterly mundane to ask her. He'd want
her to take Emma shopping for school clothes. Do her laundry over the weekend.
Lower her rates.

She had never been so
grateful to hear the telephone ring. "Excuse me, I'd better go answer
that."

He only smiled. "I'll
wait."

Marian fled in total
disarray. Inside, she mumbled, "Get a grip on yourself," then reached
for the telephone.

By the end of the brief
conversation, she had forgotten that John wanted to ask her something, forgotten
her confusion and apprehension and anticipation.

When she appeared on the
front porch, he frowned and stepped quickly forward, reaching for her elbow.

"What's wrong?"

Marian swallowed hard.
"That was my landlord," she said starkly. "He says I have to be
out of here by the end of the month. That's less than..." Her voice
quavered. "Less than three weeks away."

John swore. "That's
crazy. There must be some legal recourse. They can't possibly expect you to be
out that fast."

"I can't afford legal
recourse."

"My lawyer would be
happy to write a letter for you. A threat might be all it would take."

"No." She shook her
head hard when he started to speak again. "Please. I can't accept
financial help."

"Stubborn."

"I told you it's my
middle name." Despite her attempt at humor, he saw how pale she was and
how her mouth trembled until she compressed her lips.

With his hand on her elbow,
John turned her toward the ramshackle porch swing that hung by rusting chains.
"Sit. Let's think about this."

"I'm sorry. It's not your
problem. I..."

"Sure it is. What'll I
do with Emma if you go out of business?"

"I'll find
something," Marian said. "I'm sure I can. You don't need to
worry."

"Damn it!" Her dark
eyes widened and John realized that he had raised his voice. He let out an
impatient breath and moderated his tone. "I'm worried about you. Is that
okay?"

When he pushed, she sank onto
the swing, although she said automatically, "I'll manage. I've
always..."

"I'm sure you
have." The porch swing creaked under his weight when he joined her. He
laid an arm across her stiff shoulders, ignoring the jolt of attraction he
felt. This wasn't the time for it. "That doesn't mean friends can't help
you out," he said.

With wide, vulnerable eyes
she searched his face, then abruptly turned her head away. She said in a
muffled voice, "That's...that's very kind of you."

He wanted to swear again. If
only they'd had dinner together a couple of times, if only he had felt her
mouth soften for his... If only she had talked to him. Maybe then she would
have given him some rights. As it was, she was probably wondering who he
thought he was. They'd met three, maybe four, times. He was nothing to her. She
might be wishing he'd leave her alone.

He remembered that odd
conversation in her kitchen. Tell me, do all men imagine themselves as a prince
in disguise, sweeping a woman away? But she was no sleeping beauty, waiting to
be saved. She wanted to save herself. Who was he to deny her?

The screen door squeaked and
a small voice intruded. "Mommy? Lizzie's mean. She made a mean face."

Marian leaned forward and
held out her arms. "Come here, Jesse Bear."

John left his arm across the
swing. When Marian leaned back again, her son on her lap, he felt the warmth of
contact. He didn't think she even noticed. She had closed her eyes and pressed
her cheek against Jesse's head.

"Daddy!" His turn.
Emma had rolled down the car window and hung inquisitively out. "Daddy,
what are you doing?"

Marian lifted her head and
forced a smile. "Emma's going to be late for school. I'll be fine.
Really."

He wanted to sweep her into
his arms and cuddle her like she was cuddling Jesse. Instead, he didn't move.
"Marian, listen to me for a minute. There's one thing I can do for you.
Let me take Snowball and the goat. If you find a solution later that'll make
you happier, fine. But for now, you can get one load off your mind and make
Emma happy at the same time."

"I..." Her teeth
closed on her lower lip, and he saw her chest rise and fall on a long breath.
"Okay. At least for now. Thank you, John. It will simplify my life."

He made himself stand.
"I'll pick 'em up when the time gets closer. If there's anything else I
can do..."

This time her mouth curved
into a genuine smile, so gentle he felt as if she'd kicked him. The humor in
her voice was real, too. "You know, I may not be the only one who's a
little stubborn."

"Most people would tell
you that what I am is competitive. Jocks don't like to lose, you know."

"No." Her smile
became shaky. "But this isn't a game."

John couldn't help himself.
He reached out and touched her, just the brush of fingertips against her cheek.
"I never thought it was," he said softly. Back at his side, his
fingers curled into a fist. He had to clear his throat. "See ya," he
said, and headed off the porch.

He glanced back once, as he
opened his car door. Framed between the posts that supported the porch, she
still sat there, head bowed over her young son. She looked...virginal. Pure. No,
beautiful. Madonna and child. Dark hair slipping out of its knot, the curve of
her slender neck, her pale skin... Something in the sight of her tightened his
heart, until he had to clench his teeth against the pain. For once, he let
Emma's high voice wash over him unheard as he drove away.

*****

Nothing. It was getting dark
and she'd looked at eight places. Jesse and Anna in the backseat were whiny and
hungry. Marian wanted to lean her head against the steering wheel and cry.
Instead, she smiled over her shoulder, hoping her children were too young to
see the tears she had blinked back, and said, "You know what? I think
maybe tonight we'll go to MacDonald's. How's that grab you?"

The effect was magical, worth
the twelve dollars she couldn't afford. "Can I have nug-nuggles?"
Anna asked.

"Me, too!" Jesse
said.

"Chicken Nuggets, coming
right up," Marian promised.

The MacDonald's where they
stopped had children's movies playing on a big screen, which mesmerized Jesse
and Anna. Marian didn't have to do any more than squeeze catsup out for the
fries and supply napkins and straws. She ate slowly, not even tasting her
hamburger. Despair made it hard to swallow, clutching at her throat and
stomach.

What if she couldn't find a
decent house? What if she had to rent one of the tiny dumps they'd looked at,
just to have someplace to go? She would lose her day-care business, and then
what? She couldn't afford to work any more than she could afford an adequate
house! The cost of putting two young children in daycare would eat up too much
of the measly amount she could earn with the few skills she had.

She had only finished two
years of college, as an English major, of all useless things. She had always
intended to go back to school, but it was a dream that kept getting pushed
aside. First she had worked while Mark finished his degree; then his job had
brought them too far from Seattle to reasonably commute. Then pregnancy, of
course, and the shock of finding that she was to have twins. And finally Mark's
abrupt departure…

Suddenly, it was more than
she could deal with. There she sat on the smooth plastic seat, surrounded by
normal families on a normal outing. The movie voices were squeaky and
meaningless. Her hamburger might as well have been Styrofoam. A wave of fear
and loneliness hit Marian, so powerful she felt bruised. Most of the time she
blocked thoughts of the future from her mind, lived like an alcoholic must, one
day at a time. What hope did she have? How could she go to school and work and
be a parent all at the same time? It was impossible. Her dreams were
impossible.

And now she didn't even have
a place to live.

Marian put down the last
quarter of her hamburger. What little appetite she'd had was gone.

"You guys done?"
she asked. "It's time to go."

"Can we have ice
cream?" Jesse pleaded.

"Please," Anna said
disarmingly.

Marian wanted to cry.
Instead, she smiled. "Okay. On the way home."

Home. The small, ramshackle
cottage with its worn wood floors and sagging front porch, the bright
wallpapers and old paned windows. All to go under the blade of a bulldozer. In
three more weeks it would be gone forever.

She didn't have a home
anymore.

*****

John was running late when he
dropped Emma off that Friday. He handed her bag to Marian and kissed his
daughter, who bounced happily off to play with Crystal, a four-year-old who was
one of Marian's regulars. Her mother wouldn't be picking her up for another
hour.

"See you Monday,"
Marian said.

He held out a hand to block
the door, though she hadn't started to close it. "Any luck?"

His gray eyes were too
perceptive. "Not yet," she admitted. "There are always some new
rentals listed in the Sunday paper, though. If you don't mind my dragging Emma
along again, I'll probably check a few out."

"Of course I don't
mind," he said tersely. "I want you to know that if you get
desperate, I'd lend a hand."

"Please!" Marian
rolled her eyes in a display of humor she didn't feel. "I don't even want
to think about getting desperate! Give me a couple of weeks, okay?" More
softly she added, "But...thank you."

Marian had no doubt that he
could see how thin was her veneer of self-confidence, though he said only,
"All right. I'll call sometime this weekend," flipped his hand in a
casual wave, and strode to his car. For just a second, she let herself
luxuriate in watching him, those long, lean legs and broad shoulders, the
effortless, powerful grace of his every move. Before he reached the car and
might turn back for one last glance, she quietly closed the door and leaned her
forehead against it.