The Good Provider (12 page)

Stretching, she rolled to her back and opened her eyes. A second later she sat up, crying, “Oh, good heavens, what time is it?”

Cal set a flowery ceramic mug on the bedside table in what had once been Mary McGannon’s screened porch. Cal had hired someone to install operational windows and insulate the walls to provide a third bedroom. Her daughters were sharing the room next to Cal’s.

“Almost nine-thirty. The girls helped me make scones. I would have brought you one, but Miranda said you like coffee first. Cream, no sugar.”

“Nine-thirty? I haven’t slept that late in years.” She swung her feet out from beneath the heavy down comforter and patchwork quilt. The air temperature was cool, making her glad for the new flannel pajamas she’d picked up at an after-Christmas sale.

“You already made the scones?”

“Yes. I figured you needed sleep more than food. Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. But I did invite William to join us before he headed back to California. A small thank you for all that he’s done,” she explained, grateful her voice didn’t betray her.

In truth, he’d slept with her all night—in her dreams. Warm and snuggly, hot and steamy, friendly and fun. She was looking forward to seeing him this morning to prove to her subconscious the man was not as wonderful as she wanted to believe.

“He dropped off the answering machine about an hour ago. I told him you were still asleep.”

Daria let out a groan that was pure Miranda. “Bummer.”

Her grandfather chuckled. “He said to tell you he was loading up the heaters and would stop by on his way to the airport. He won’t be here for at least five…ten minutes.”

“Grandpa!” she shrieked, nearly spilling her coffee—until she caught the teasing twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, you.” She gave him a one-armed hug. “You know me too well.”

Turning to lower her feet to the thick woolly rug beside her bed, she felt the caffeine chase the last of the cobwebs from her mind. “Do you know if Hailey took her medicine? And remembered to rinse her mouth afterward?”

“Miranda reminded her. And I brewed a special tea that might help open those bronchial membranes, too.” He held up his hand as if expecting a motherly protest. “Don’t worry. Not voodoo witch doctor stuff, merely homeopathic herbs. I checked with my doctor the last time I saw him to make sure it wouldn’t interact poorly with what Hailey’s taking. That’s why I had you fax me a copy of her medicines, remember?”

Daria was impressed. “For a retired pharmacist, Grandpa, you sound as though you might have been wooed over to the dark side.”

He made a face. “Pharmaceuticals have their place in your medicine cabinet, but sometimes common sense is the best cure.” He turned to go. “We saved you a couple of scones, but the mice seem to be particularly hungry this morning.”

Mice named Miranda and Hailey, she’d bet. “I’ll be right there as soon as I’m dressed.”

“And don’t forget you have company coming at ten.”

Her heart rate spiked.
William?

“Those book club gals. Libby’s friends. Lib called twice this morning to make sure it was all right that they stopped by.”

Right.
She’d heard about the group for years from Mary and Libby, and making new women friends was one of the things on her to-do list. “Great. I’ll hop in the shower, then be right there. Thanks, Grandpa.”

But mention of a “list” brought to mind William and his Family Fairy theory, and thinking about William while hot soapy water sluiced over her body derailed her usual quickie sponge bath. Twenty minutes later—hair still damp and no makeup to speak of—she opened the door of her grandfather’s house to three women, each as different from the other as humanly possible.

“Hi. You must be Daria. I’m Kat,” said the petite blonde carrying a huge wicker basket. “I brought some things for your daughters. I hope they like them.”

Daria spotted movies, books, candy and a couple of craft projects in the basket. All very pink and girly. “How nice of you! They’ll be over the moon.”

The second arrival handed Daria a trade paperback. “Our current read,” she said, shaking her mop of tri-color hair. “I’m Char.”

The straggler was murmuring into her cell phone as she approached, pausing on the stoop to whisper, “Love you, too. Bye.” When she looked up from stowing the phone in her oversize purse, she found three sets of eyes on her. She laughed and held out her hand in greeting. “Sorry. I’m Rachel. Newest book club member. Well, prior to you, of course. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Daria called her daughters into the kitchen to be introduced.

“Wow,” Hailey exclaimed. “All this stuff is for us? Cool.”

Miranda, who had a habit of turning shy when Daria least expected it, picked up the DVD she’d been watching yesterday on the plane. “This is a good movie. I can’t wait to watch it again.”

Daria smiled her pleasure at her daughter’s good manners.

“My boys loved it. Usually, if something doesn’t blow up in the first ten minutes of the movie, they’re bored, but they actually liked this story,” Kat said.

“How old are they?” Miranda asked.

“Tag is nine and Jordie is Hailey’s age. I should warn you, though, Tag adores older women,” she said with a wink.

“Do you have any pictures?” Miranda asked.

“About a million,” Char answered for her. “Stick around long enough and you’ll see them all.”

Daria chuckled at the friendly ribbing. “Come in, everyone. Where are my manners?”

Once they were seated in her grandfather’s living room, a small but homey place with a huge stone fireplace and energy-efficient wood stove, Kat brought out a glossy, scrapbook-style photo book.

“Wow. This is gorgeous. Where’d you get it?” Daria asked. She’d tried scrapbooking and had loved it, but like a lot of her creative endeavors, had given it up rather than argue with Bruce about the cost.

Rachel answered for Kat. “I made it. I have a Web design business and dabble in photography. My fiancé is an artist. We’re in the process of starting up an artists’ collective. If you have any hidden talents—painting, photography, writing, you name it—we’d love to have you.”

“Do you have a card?”

Rachel pawed through her oversize purse a solid minute, finally retrieving one badly battered business card. “Nuts. Mine must be in my car. But here’s Rufus’s. You can reach me through his Web site.”

Hailey, who was still sitting shyly on Daria’s lap, let out a loud shriek. “Mommy, look—that’s the birdhouse William and I bought Great-Grandpa Cal.” She hopped off Daria’s lap and raced to point to the object hanging outside the window above the kitchen sink. “Look!”

“William bought it?” Rachel asked. “Where was that?”

Daria told them about their weather-delay adventure.

“He’s such a great guy,” Rachel said. “Kind, sensitive, generous…”

“Freakin’ gorgeous,” Kat added, then blushed profusely. “Oops. Mind bubble. Not meant to share publicly. Sorry.”

Everyone laughed as she covered her face with her hands.

Daria liked these women. She felt welcomed and accepted. For the first time, she could actually picture herself and her daughters living here, not just escaping to her grandfather’s until the dust cleared.

“How are the schools here?” she asked.

Miranda looked up from the magazine she was thumbing through.

“Excellent,” Kat said. “My boys are doing great. Love their teachers. Hate their homework, but that’s to be expected, right? I’m subbing in Hill City at the moment and can tell you who to contact if you’re considering enrolling the girls.”

“Enrolling us? Like in school?” Miranda asked, jumping to her feet. “You didn’t say we’d have to go to school here, Mom. I like my school. All my friends are there.”

Daria heard the quiver of tears behind the last statement. “It never hurts to explore other options, Miranda.”

“Daddy was right. You only think about yourself. You’re dumb and selfish and horrible. I hate you.”

Daria’s stomach turned over. “Miranda Grace, you do
not
speak to your mother like that. Go to your room. Now.”

Hailey, who had run back to Daria at the first hint of conflict, was sobbing against her legs. Every other sob was punctuated by that dark, dry hacking sound Daria had come to fear. She picked up the little girl and rocked her back and forth. “Breathe, darling. Slow and steady. You know how. Do we need to find your rescue inhaler?”

Cal suddenly appeared and held out his hand. “How ’bout we go walk in the garden, Miss Hailey? A little fresh air might help.”

Daria doubted that, but Hailey seemed eager to go, so she set her down. The two disappeared down the hall and emerged in view of the front window a few minutes later in jackets, hats and boots.

“Oh, Daria, I’m so sorry,” Kat said. “I’ve been through two divorces. I know how difficult this can be for children. You want life to be smooth and easy, but it never is.”

Daria was slightly comforted looking at this smiling, happy woman. If Kat could survive two divorces, surely Daria could handle one.

Char piped up. “My fiancé recently went through a difficult divorce—well, heck, is there any other kind? All I mean to say is we’re here for you, if you need to talk to someone.”

“Me, too,” Rachel added. “Divorced, but happier than ever.”

Daria doubted any of them had experienced the kind of guilt and self-hate she’d known for so long, but their support, as women and as mothers, made her feel welcome to a community she’d been apart from for too long.

The three women left a few minutes later. The moment she closed the door behind them, Daria hurried to the spare bedroom, knocking briefly before entering.

Miranda was sitting on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, Daria’s phone to her ear. She looked up guiltily. “I know, Grandma,” she said. “I know you love me. So does Daddy. I don’t know why Mommy took us away.”
A lie.
“Do you want to talk to Mommy? She just walked in. Her new friends must have left.”

Daria snatched the phone out of her daughter’s hand, retaining eye contact. “Hello, Hester. I’d intended to call once Bruce and I had a chance to talk. So far, that hasn’t been possible because he can’t stop swearing and calling me names long enough to listen to anything I have to say. When he can speak civilly, he knows where to find me. In the meantime, the girls and I will be staying with my grandfather. For everyone’s sake. Bruce’s, too.”

She was quite sure her mother-in-law knew what Daria meant. Bruce’s temper had gotten him in hot water before. One particularly nasty confrontation had involved a highway patrol officer who’d dared give Bruce a ticket for speeding. It had cost Bruce’s brothers a pretty penny to pull the necessary strings to save the family any embarrassment.

“You’re being ridiculous, Daria. Being selfish. Bruce is in the middle of very important legislation at the moment. You couldn’t have picked a worse time to do this.”

Daria almost laughed. “So what you’re saying is your son’s career is more important than his wife and children? Why did I ever think otherwise? He’s a Fontina.”

Hester made a sound of pure outrage. “And being a Fontina was good enough for you for quite some time. Our name put a beautiful roof over your head, a fancy car in your driveway and nice clothes on your back. It sent your children to private schools and got Hailey the best doctors around. You’re willing to give that up? For what? Or should I say for whom? There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

Daria spun around and walked out of the room. “No, Hester, there isn’t.”
Despite one kiss that made me wish there was.
“This isn’t about love, it’s about the lack of love. It’s about feeling so damn empty inside I can’t see myself in the mirror. Your son has drained me dry, and I won’t let him do the same thing to our daughters.”

She jabbed the off button as hard as she could, exhilarated and at the same time sick to her stomach. She had no idea what her mother-in-law might do in retaliation—call in all the family forces to exert as much pressure on Daria as possible, she guessed. And Daria certainly wouldn’t put it past any one of the Fontina siblings or extended family to try to use her daughters against her. But none of that mattered.

Her children were the only thing that mattered, and Daria needed to find out what was up with Miranda.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” her daughter told her the moment Daria walked in. Her eyes were red from crying. “I saw you with those ladies and I remembered Daddy saying you couldn’t be a good mother if you had a bunch of yappy women friends around who drank cocktails and made up lies about their husbands. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them.”

Daria sat beside her and opened her arms. “I know, baby. After a while you don’t know who to believe. But you can believe this. I’m not trying to hurt your father. I’m trying to start a new life for all of us, including Daddy. If two people aren’t good for each other…if one of them—or both of them, for that matter—feels boxed in and unhappy, then the whole family suffers.”

Miranda nodded, still sniffling. “But what if he won’t take us back? Me and Hailey. Because we went with you?”