Impossible Dreams (8 page)

She poked the lettuce around some more, then grimaced in a
fiasco of a smile. “If I could impose on you for a ride, I think
I’d better take Matty back to the school and get him settled in.”

Axell tried to take her words at face value. He glanced at
her plate and except for the lettuce, she’d eaten everything put before
her. She hadn’t insulted him by offering payment for the meal, but he had
a strong suspicion she couldn’t offer him money if she wished.

He didn’t want to admit that an educated woman, one
whose credentials he’d checked, one who ran a business, taught his
daughter, and showed no sign of mental incapacity — could be homeless, hungry,
and without visible means of transportation.

If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously
overlooked something.

“Where are we going?” Aroused from the lethargy
inspired by glove-soft leather seats, the soft hum of a powerful motor, and the
numbness of shock, Maya frowned at the unfamiliar turn off the familiar
highway. Tree frogs chirruped in the country quiet.

“Constance’s baby-sitter will be waiting.”

She didn’t know this enigmatic man well enough to
interpret his tone, and despite the dim glow of the dash lights, darkness
obscured his expression. She ought to be afraid out here with a stranger, with
more fields than houses around, but this man was a Virgo to his bones. She
suspected he was in full caretaking mode.

She could use a little caretaking right now, she thought
from the weary fog she’d retreated into. She would like to gratefully
accept Axell Holm’s words at face value — if it were not for that
rebellious Aquarian nature lurking beneath his surface. “What’s your
birth date?”

He glanced at her, then returned his attention to the road.
“September, but I guarantee you that the planets do not guide my
behavior.”

She shook her head at his predictable response. “The
month only gives your sun sign. I’d need the exact date, year, and place
of birth to predict the planets, but I’m not very good at charting. Your
Virgo nature is obvious. It’s that Aquarian streak worrying me.”
She knew she was avoiding reality, but life had taught her to take one step at
a time. Right now, sidestepping worked best.

“Astrology simply labels basic human behavior in a
manner people can easily grasp. If it makes you happy to label my behavior, be
my guest, but I’d wager genetics and environment more accurately explain
character.”

“Since I don’t know your environment and
can’t examine your genes” — she threw his lap a naughty glance he
probably didn’t catch and couldn’t follow since he wasn’t
wearing jeans — “I’ll stick with astrology, thank you.” Her
mind had taken some warped loops with advanced pregnancy, but wondering what
was under the god-like Axell Holm’s trousers was loopier than usual.

They pulled into the driveway of a typical suburban
Charlotte brick residence, the kind with more gables and outcroppings than she
could count. As the car followed the drive around behind the house, Axell
flicked a switch on the dash, and a garage door silently opened. As far as Maya
was concerned, garages were a waste of money in this mild climate, but she
supposed the rich had money to waste.

She didn’t know why it bothered her that Axell was
rich. He had to be a decade older than she was, and a continent away in terms
of life experience. She appreciated his thoughtfulness in offering a meal and a
chance to pull herself together, but men of his caliber made her extremely
nervous, perhaps because she so desperately craved what he had to offer.

Damn, the shock must be wearing off and her brain must be
bubbling with panic if she thought Axell Holm was what she needed.

She couldn’t keep on like this. She’d been
homeless before, but this time she had a baby on the way and Matty to worry
about. How would she keep Matty? As soon as the social worker discovered their
plight, she’d shove him into a foster home. Maya shivered as the fear
rose in her, fanned by the winds of memory. She had to leave Wadeville, go back
to California where she had friends...

How the devil would she get back to California? She’d
sold everything she owned, including her car, so she could afford the
outrageous cost of a last minute, one-way, cross-country plane ticket to rescue
Matty from foster care. The few dollars she’d possessed over and above
the fare had gone to restoring Cleo’s utilities, buying groceries, and
dressing Matty in something besides rags. She’d never earned enough in
her few years as a teacher to build a cushion of savings.

Tears filled her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away as
Axell opened the passenger door and held out his hand to her. Matty and
Constance were already scurrying out of the back seat.

She curled her fingers into her palms and stalled with the
practice of a lifetime of rebelling against hand-outs. “I’ll wait
here while you take Constance in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got room, and
you’re exhausted. You can have a room near Constance. In the morning,
things will look better.”

“I’ve had a lot of experience with mornings.
Generally, they only look worse.” She refused his hand. She’d spent
most of her life trying to fit into other people’s lives. She’d
earned her degree so she would never have to take charity or depend on anyone
else again.

He withdrew his hand impatiently. “Look, you can sleep
in the car if you like. I’ve got to get back to the restaurant after I
see Constance settled, but I can take the Rover.”

The “Rover” looked to be a looming utility
vehicle of horrendous size on the far side of the garage. Two vehicles and one
driver. Conspicuous consumption. She didn’t have the energy to sniff her
disapproval. Terror had replaced her brain.

As Axell turned away, Maya halted him. “What good is
it showing Matty what he cannot have?” she demanded. “It would be
much kinder if you’d take us to the school.”

He didn’t turn as he contemplated her words, leaving
Maya a view of his wide shoulders. He’d removed his suit jacket and
rolled up his shirt sleeves, but the carelessness didn’t conceal that he
was accustomed to dealing from a position of strength: physical and emotional
as well as financial. He had absolutely no concept of what it was like to worry
that the roof over his head and the food in his mouth could be stripped away if
he said the wrong thing, opened the wrong door, wore the wrong clothes.

The automatic garage lights blinked out and Axell hit the
switch restoring them. The action apparently bolstered his decision. He turned
and faced her with no expression.

“Children adapt,” he snapped.
“You’re the one with the problem. If you want that school of yours
to survive, you’d better learn to start working with others.”

This time, he didn’t offer a helping hand. He strode
into the house, leaving her sitting in the enormously expensive car, staring at
a wall of gleaming, unused garden tools. He didn’t even tend his own
yard.

Well, he’d given her a choice, of sorts. She could sit
there until he got tired of looking at her and took her back to the school. She
could borrow the money from Selene and go back to California with Matty. It
would mean living off friends until the baby was born since she’d never
find a job in this condition.

Or she could get up and follow Axell Holm into the world of
the wealthy, a world she’d never known, frequently despised, often
envied, and always feared. In her experience, a helping hand usually meant
accepting shackles. She wasn’t any good at living within the boundaries
of other people’s rules.

Maya pinched her eyes closed. Either way, she lost her
independence. Why not wait until after she was well rested to decide between a
rock and a hard place?

Her irreverent humor bounced back as she shifted her belly
out of the car. Maybe she could accept his offer of a position as nanny and be
like the TV character who lived in wealth and flirted with her clueless
employer.

The dubious charms of a wailing infant would end that career
soon enough.

***

Removing cash from his pocket to pay off the baby-sitter,
Axell curbed his impatience as Maya occupied the woman with chatter, drew
Constance into the conversation, and appeared in no particular hurry to accept
the shelter and comfort of the room he offered her. As far as he could see,
Matty had settled quite comfortably into a fascinated trance in front of the
television.

No matter what Maya thought, he wasn’t offering
charity. He’d simply grabbed the most expedient method available of
installing a mother figure in the house for Constance and stalling Sandra a
while longer.

Somewhere on the ride here, his good intention of offering a
night’s shelter had developed into the insane idea that he’d been
handed the golden opportunity to solve all his problems. With the schoolteacher
in residence, Constance wouldn’t need Sandra. He was a quick study. Maybe
he could learn how Maya drew words out of his noncommunicative daughter. He
would give anything, do anything, to have the same rapport with his daughter
that Maya had. That Maya was a potential disruption to his orderly life was a
given he accepted as the price of learning.

He was a desperate man.

So, watch and learn, he told himself as Maya stroked
Constance’s hair, talked about the video Constance had popped into the
VCR, and pried a reluctant smile out of her as Maya compared the dragons on her
toes with the one in the movie. A minute later, Constance was begging to have
her new Nikes painted and was clinging to Maya’s hand as if she
wouldn’t let go.

He still didn’t see how she did it.

Instead of lingering in the family room doorway, Axell
strolled in and sat on a massive leather footstool near Constance. He took the
unadorned Nike from his daughter’s fingers, held it up to the TV
dinosaur, and tried to join the conversation. “Purple and green?”
he asked facetiously, while Matty ignored them in favor of the video.

Constance drew closer to Maya, whipped her long hair back
and forth, and held out her hand for her shoe. She didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have time for this. Exasperated, he handed
the shoe back. “Will you show Maya and Matty to the room next to
yours?”

For a moment, her thin face lit from within. Then it
shuttered and she nodded warily. Still, not a sound.

“Give your daddy a hug,” Maya whispered in tones
he could hear. “He has to go back to look after all your friends in the
kitchen.”

That was a hell of a way of looking at it, but Constance
willingly turned and grabbed his neck for a swift hug before retreating to
Maya’s side. Maybe it was a female thing. Maybe little girls needed
mothers at this age more than they needed fathers.

Still, her desertion pained him. He’d worked hard at
building the bar and restaurant to fill the void left by the death of his
parents, but he’d never had his father’s knack for making friends
of his customers. Dissatisfied, he’d tried filling his lonely existence
with Angela. He’d hoped his daughter’s birth would plug the gaps in
his marriage. Instead, his inability to interact with others had cost him his
wife, and now he was losing his daughter.

Anguish seared his heart as he watched Constance cling to a
virtual stranger, leaving him more alone than ever. He didn’t know why he
kept trying, except he didn’t know the meaning of the word
“quit.”

He’d always thought fathers worked to provide food and
shelter and earned love and respect in return. What had he done wrong?

He simply didn’t possess what she needed. Pained by
that realization, Axell rose. “I apologize for my lack of hospitality,
but I’ve got to get back to the bar.” At least, at the bar, he knew
where he stood. He provided the executive decisions. His employees provided the
friendly atmosphere. “Make yourself at home as best as you can. I think
the housekeeper keeps up the guest room, but you can ask Constance for anything
you need. She knows where everything is.”

“Of course she does.” Maya slipped her arm
around Constance’s shoulder. “She’s an excellent hostess. You
can leave us safely in her hands.”

She threw him a veiled look he couldn’t interpret.
Axell suspected he was supposed to do or say something now but he didn’t
know what it was. His father might have punched him in the arm and said
“Come on, Tiger, let’s you and me go to the bar,” but that
didn’t seem the appropriate response in this case. He patted
Constance’s head awkwardly. “You look after Miss Alyssum and Matty
for me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Maya shook her head and watched him hurry away. The poor man
didn’t have a clue. She could almost sympathize with him. Almost. But
years of experience told her that men were a self-centered lot when it came
right down to it, and just because Axell was older and wealthier than most she
knew, he wasn’t any different.

She let both Constance and Matty wind down by watching the
video. She doubted if Matty had ever seen a video, or that he had any idea how
it operated. Cleo’s ancient television didn’t have cable and only
picked up a couple of local channels, and those faintly. Matty watched a few
cartoons on Saturday morning but nothing else. Maya preferred it that way, but
she didn’t have the heart to tear him away from this fascinating
entertainment after seeing his home reduced to a crumbled pile of brick.

Homeless. Maya fought off another slam of panic as the baby
kicked.

Matty wasn’t the only one who needed diversion.
Bubbles of pure fear percolated through her veins. She needed her tea. She
should have insisted on rescuing her cups.

After the video ended, Constance led them through the
darkened corridors of the house. The unlived-in decor didn’t ease her
fears. Dining room furniture gleamed with wax, vacant of any hodgepodge of
sugar bowls or salt cellars or placemats. The beautifully decorated living room
with its plush white rugs could never have seen a child’s toy. The lovely
apricot walls sported no dirty fingerprints. Against the silver sofa, charming
pillows lay in perfectly symmetrical patterns that could never have held a
human head.