Make-Believe Mum. Elaine GrantЧитать онлайн книгу.
thinking about it. How long would it take for the pain to ease? How long would he have to do penance for being behind the wheel that day?
In town, the children barreled out of the Suburban and, before Jon could stop them, the young ones blasted into Kaycee’s clinic like a hurricane. Kaycee met them in the waiting room, bundling all that energy into her arms without missing a beat. Tyler and Zach went headlong. Bo hung back, wary of the woman he’d never seen before, until jealousy of the hugs and attention bestowed on his brothers got the better of him and he shouldered his way in. Kaycee gave him a hug, too. Michele stood close, beaming at Kaycee, already in love with her, Jon realized. The two older girls found a middle ground, waiting to take over the little ones by habit. Wendy stayed firmly behind Jon, her small hand in his, watching, but not participating.
Kaycee already had biscuits and toast prepared along with a huge bowl of scrambled eggs, crumbled bacon and cheese. Toasted cheese sandwiches cut into triangles waited on a warming plate on the counter. A bowl of fresh fruit sat in the center of the table. She produced a high chair for Bo stamped with the logo from the café next door. Amid the lively chatter, Rachel set Bo in the chair and gave him a plate with a piece of toasted cheese sandwich, slices of banana and poured juice in his sipper cup. The other girls helped Kaycee distribute orange juice and milk.
Soon the room was filled with the familiar bantering and squabbling of the kids. Jon watched Kaycee meld into his family so seamlessly that he had a hard time believing they’d met only the one time. If they were an imposition, she didn’t show it. She appeared to enjoy them.
Her sun-burnished brown hair fell loose around her shoulders. A trace of makeup enhanced her large green eyes, and up close Jon noticed the gold flecks that made them sparkle. The yellow sweater she wore over tweed slacks molded to her curves.
Battling a blaze that started in his groin and worked its way up, Jon forced himself to look somewhere else. A sense of melancholy settled heavily in his chest as he realized how badly he missed his wife, missed the rapport of planning out their schedule each morning, of raising these children together. He hadn’t allowed himself to admit how lonely he was until this moment.
Kaycee caught Jon’s eye and smiled over the sea of heads. He answered with one of sincere gratitude and tried to shake off his gloom as she offered him a plate full of food and sat beside him. Jon mediated the minor disagreements between the children when necessary, kept up his end of the conversation with Kaycee and pondered how to manage the rest of the day. Sunday school and church for the children—he hadn’t been since Alison’s funeral—grocery shopping, getting everybody home and settled again so he could work the ranch. Call Hal. Somehow he had to find a compromise with his in-laws before this dangerous game irreparably damaged his family.
Jon checked his watch. “Let’s move, kids. We don’t want to be late for Sunday school.”
In a flurry of activity, the children scurried to help Kaycee put the dishes in the sink.
“You want to come with us, Dr. Kaycee?” Michele asked hopefully.
“Michele,” Jon admonished. This child would have Kaycee living with them if she could.
“Just asking, Daddy.”
Unflappable Michele. Jon had to smile.
“I don’t think I can dress in time for Sunday school. Suppose I join you for church?” Kaycee suggested, looking at Jon. “Are you going?”
Everybody in the room, Kaycee included, seemed to be waiting for his answer. Michele gazed up at him hopefully. Jon ran a hand through his hair. Truth was, he wasn’t ready. He still had some differences to work out with his Maker before he could set foot in church.
“I can’t buy groceries for all of us in an hour’s time. Maybe next week.”
“Will you come anyway?” Michele said to Kaycee.
“Sure, I’d love to. I’ll meet y’ all there.”
Michele beamed as she climbed into the SUV with the others.
“You’d better stop that, Michele,” Wendy said, buckling into the seat beside her sister.
Jon settled into the driver’s seat, listening.
“What?” Michele said evasively.
“You know what. Trying to get her to be our mother. Just stop it.”
“You can’t make me. I want her to be our mom. Don’t you think she’s nice, Daddy?”
“I’d say she’s real nice considering how you roped her into being mommy-for-a-day. How about leaving the mother-finding to me.”
“But you’re not doing too good,” Zach piped up. “We gots to have somebody!”
Jon grimaced. “The fact is, she’s busy and has a job of her own to do. She may not be in the market for a ready-made family. But don’t worry, I’m going to find another housekeeper as soon as I can.” Jon stopped in front of the church. “Now out you go. I’ll be back for you.”
He took a deep breath as he pulled away from the curb. The sudden silence in the car was unnerving. This is how the world will sound if Hal gets the kids. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He almost turned around to go back for them. Gripping the wheel, he forced himself to keep going, to buy the food they needed and try to keep life normal for them.
Later that night, when everybody else was in bed, he poured himself a strong drink, something he rarely did—but then he rarely called his father-in-law, either. The worst call had been to tell him his only child, his baby girl, had been killed in an accident. That he’d never see her again or hear her voice, never make amends for the way he’d treated her since she married. Jon held himself responsible for her death. And so did his father-in-law.
Jon nursed the drink until he felt the soothing heat spread through his muscles and calm his overactive brain. He closed the door to his office and sat behind the massive oak desk. Beyond the open drapes, the black night spread into infinity.
Ten o’clock. Nine in San Francisco. He couldn’t put off the call. In another half hour Hal would be in bed. Slowly he picked up the phone, punching in the numbers with agonizing deliberateness. He hated this phone number. Hated it.
“Hello.”
He hated that voice more. Jon flinched at the sound. He gripped the receiver until his hand hurt. Fighting the urge to hang up, Jon forced himself to speak.
“Hal.”
There was a long silence on the other end, then Hal said, “What do you want?”
“Call off this social worker.”
Jon waited, listening to Hal’s accelerated breathing.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, hell, you do. You filed that complaint. Don’t bother denying it.”
Hal grunted, sounding pleased with himself. Funny, Jon had never really hated Hal until after Alison died, when he attempted to take custody of the kids. Before that he’d tried to tolerate the man in spite of his treatment of Alison—for her sake.
“Do you realize what you’re doing to my children? That woman came here and terrified them. Is that what you want?”
“I want the children in a good home. You can’t take care of them. You don’t even have someone to watch them while you work. No food for them to eat. And you claim to be a good father?”
“What are you doing, spying on us? A private investigator?”
Hal laughed. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? I have my ways. You should know that by now.”
“Call them off, Hal. Leave my family alone.”
“Not until I’m satisfied the children are being cared for.”
“Then let me satisfy you. We do have food in the house. Did