Days Like This (3 page)

Darkly, he said, “I figured we had
a few good years left before it all went to shit.”

“I’m teasing you, MacKenzie. 
Your sex life isn’t going anywhere.  Trust me.”  She brushed a single curl away
from his face.  “We’ll just have to be a little quieter, that’s all.”

He raised both eyebrows and gave
her a knowing look, and she said, “Never mind.  I forgot myself for a minute
there.  Maybe we should give her the downstairs guest room instead.”

“That’s a much better idea,
Fiore.  Unless you want to give her an advanced sexual education at the age of fifteen.”

“Surely you jest.  At fifteen,
she probably knows more about sex than we do.”

He let out a snorting laugh, then
quickly sobered.  “This isn’t funny, is it?  This is my daughter we’re talking
about.  She’s fifteen years old, and if those school photos are any indication,
she’s a knockout.  Does this mean I have to go out and buy a shotgun to keep
the hordes of teenage boys away?”

“It could come to that.”  She
patted his cheek affectionately, gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and said, “Welcome
to parenthood.”

***

Rose and Jesse Lindstrom lived in
a two-hundred-year-old Colonial on thirty acres with over a thousand feet of
prime river frontage.  Considering the going price of waterfront property, if
Jesse ever decided to sell, he could make a fortune.  He’d grown up in this
house, and after his parents became snowbirds and started spending winters in
Arizona, they’d sold him the family homestead for a ridiculously low price. 
The house had needed major updating, and Jesse had dropped a ton of money on
renovations.  The end result was a wonderful family home that would probably
stand for another two hundred years.

The Lindstroms were one of those “yours,
mine, and ours” blended families that had come about totally by accident.  Both
of them divorced parents of teenagers, Rose and Jesse had met last summer at
Casey and Rob’s wedding.  The attraction between them had been instantaneous
and intense, so intense that a few weeks later, Rose MacKenzie Kenneally had
started throwing up every morning. 

Casey had thought they were crazy
when her sister’s ex-husband and her husband’s sister had announced they were
getting married.  They came from different worlds, their personalities were
complete opposites—Rose was fire, while Jesse was ice—and they didn’t even know
each other.  Except, apparently, in the biblical sense.  But somehow, they’d
made it work.  Rose had moved her entire household, including two teenagers, an
iguana, and a dog the size of a Frigidaire, from South Boston to rural Maine to
live with Jesse and his teenage son.  Four months ago, their daughter Beth had
been born, and nowadays, nobody even remembered their unconventional start.

When they knocked on the door,
Chauncey began barking frantically.  Jesse opened the door, dog collar in hand
to hold back eighty pounds of slavering mutt, and said, “Come on in.” 
Upstairs, the stereo was booming as Axl Rose screeched an ear-splitting rendition
of
Welcome to the Jungle
.  With Chauncey’s toenails tick-ticking
elatedly on the hardwood floor, they followed Jesse to the kitchen, where Rose
was just finishing up the dinner dishes. 

Out here, it was a little
quieter.  “Hey, guys,” Rose said.  “Coffee, tea, beer?”

“Coffee,” Rob said.  “Times two. 
Decaf, if you have it.  We have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Coming right up.”  Rob’s sister
was a striking woman, with the MacKenzie green eyes, an angular face that was
just this side of pretty, and wild, curly hair like her brother’s, except that
hers tumbled down her back in a fiery red tangle that was a perfect match for
her personality. 

“So,” she said, taking mugs from
the cupboard and setting them on the countertop.  “Do you two have some kind
of—”  She glanced meaningfully at Casey’s flat stomach.  “—exciting news?”

“We have news,” Rob said, “but not
that kind of news.  At least, not exactly.”

Rose looked puzzled by his
statement as she made instant decaf and carried two mugs to the kitchen table
where Casey and Rob had settled side by side on wooden dining chairs. 

Setting the mugs in front of them,
she said, “So what’s up?”

Rob said, “You might want to sit
down for this.”

“Whoa.”  Rose shared a quick
glance with her husband before dropping onto a chair at one end of the long
dining table.  “What’s going on?”   

Rob took a breath.  Beneath the
table, Casey squeezed his hand.  He said, “I just found out this afternoon that
I have a fifteen-year-old daughter.” 

Nobody spoke.  He exhaled, and
Casey squeezed his hand again.  “Her mother died two weeks ago, and I’m taking
custody of her.  Her name is Paige.  Casey and I are driving down to Boston
tomorrow to pick her up, and—what the hell, Rose?  Why aren’t you looking even
remotely surprised by any of this?”

All eyes fell on Rose, who
squirmed uncomfortably before getting up and making her way to the refrigerator. 
From behind the open door, she said brightly, “Does anybody want coffee cake? 
I’m sure we have one in here somewhere—”

“You knew,” Rob said in a stunned
voice.  Casey rested a restraining hand on his arm, but it was too late.  He
vaulted to his feet and stalked across the room.  Slammed the refrigerator door
shut with so much force that his sister jumped out of the way to keep from
being decapitated. “You fucking knew, and you never told me!”

“Back off, little brother, or I
swear to God I’ll—”

“Like hell I’ll back off!  How
could you know something like this and not tell me?  How long have you known?”

“If you can’t be civil, I’m not
saying a damn thing!”

“Civil, my ass!  How long, Rose?” 
He advanced on her, inching forward until they were nearly nose to nose.  “How
goddamn long have you known?”

His sister held her ground, not
in the least intimidated by him, probably because she was eight minutes older
than he was, and they’d been squabbling like this since the womb.  She squared
her shoulders and her jaw and said, “Six years.”

“
Six years
?  SIX FUCKING
YEARS you knew this, and you couldn’t bother to tell me?  What the hell is
wrong with you?  How do you even know about this?”

“Stop yelling at me, Robbie, or I’ll
toss you out on your ass!”

“I’ll stop yelling when I’m damn
good and ready.  How’d you find out?”

Rose glanced at Casey, then back
at her brother.  She raised her chin and said, “Mom told me.”

Casey winced and closed her
eyes. 
Worst possible answer
.  Across the room, Rob said in disbelief, “
Mom
knows about this?  How is that possible?”

“She ran into Sandy in the
grocery store six years ago.  Sandy had the kid with her.  Mom took one look—”

“The kid has a name.  It’s Paige. 
I’d appreciate you remembering!”

“Mom took one look at
Paige
—”
Rose over-emphasized the word, glaring at her brother.  “—and almost had a
heart attack.  She’s the spitting image of you, right down to the green eyes. 
But before Mom could ask any questions, Sandy beat feet.  So she called Meg—”

“Meg knows, too?  Jesus, Mary and
Joseph!”

“—for confirmation.  She knew Meg
and Sandy were always tight.  And Meg said that yes, the kid was yours, but
Sandy had begged her not to tell you.  So Mom called me to ask what I thought
she should do.”

“I don’t believe this.”  He began
pacing like a caged tiger before rounding on her again.  “Who else knows?  Does
the whole family know?  Does Mo Branigan down at the corner store know?  Do
Father McMurphy and my fourth-grade teacher know?  Is there anybody from
Southie who doesn’t know?  Besides me, of course.”  He paused to run trembling
fingers through his hair.  And said in an odd, strangled voice, “Does Dad know?”

“We decided not to tell Dad.”

“That was really big of you!”

“Damn it,” she shouted, “stop
yelling at me!”

“Why?” he shouted.  “Why would
you keep this from me?”

“Sandy made Meg swear not to
tell, and we couldn’t—”

“So you did this to keep Sandy
happy?  Whatever happened to blood being thicker than water?”

“Your life was a mess!” she
shouted.  “A total flipping mess!  You were on the road all the time, living
out of a suitcase, traveling from gig to gig, flying to London, and Tokyo, and
Sydney.  There was no stability.  No house, no wife, not even a serious girlfriend. 
Just an apartment you hardly spent any time in, and dozens of interchangeable
women.  You’d been divorced twice, and you weren’t showing any signs you’d ever
settle down and start acting like an adult.  We decided it would be better for
both of you if you didn’t know about the ki—about Paige.”

“So you just made that decision
for me, arbitrarily?  You and Mom and Meg, without knowing anything about my
life, without even considering my feelings, just decided it would be best to
keep this from me, for my own good?  Well,
thank you very much!”

“Mom almost told you a few years
ago.  When you and Casey were living together in Boston, and—”  Rose paused,
glanced at Casey, then back at her brother.  “We were all so sure the two of
you would end up together—but then Casey got back together with Danny, and you
were a basket case, and we decided it would be better if we didn’t say
anything.”

“Wait a minute,” Casey said.  “What
do you mean, he was a basket case?”

“Never mind!” Rob snapped.

“When you and Danny got back
together,” Rose told her, “my little brother fell apart for a while.  He was in
pretty bad shape.”

“Shut up, Rose!  Stay the hell
out of what’s none of your business!”

“I’ll shut up when I damn well
please!  Maybe it’s time she heard this!  Maybe it’s time she found out just
what she did to you when she dumped you for—”

“SHUT.  THE.  HELL.  UP!”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Casey
said, getting up from her chair and marching across the room to stand between
them like a referee at a boxing match.  “To your corners, people!  You’re both
acting like four-year-olds.  Rose, just for the record, I didn’t dump your
brother.  We were not a couple back then.  He was sleeping in my guest room. 
As for you—”  She met her husband’s eyes.  “Sit.  Now!”

He sat.  And buried his face in
his trembling hands.  “Jess,” she said, “do you have any hard liquor in the
house?”

“There’s a bottle of Jim Beam in
the den.”

“I think my husband could use a
drink.  Just a shot, to calm his nerves.  He’s had a rough day.  This was
shocking news, and I believe we’re experiencing a little delayed reaction.”

Rob said, “I don’t need to be
treated like a—”

“Shut up,” she said firmly but
gently, kneeling on the floor in front of him.  “For once in your life, let me
take care of you.  God knows, you’ve done it enough times for me.”

His eyes met hers, and she watched
as the fight drained out of him and he said with quiet resignation, “Fine.”

Jesse returned with a shot of Jim
Beam. “Thank you,” she said, and put the glass in Rob’s hand and wrapped his
fingers around it.  “Drink,” she told him. 

He upended the glass and took the
shot in a single swallow.  Closed his eyes and let her peel the glass from his
fingers.  She handed it back to Jesse and took Rob’s hands in both of hers.  “You
okay?” she said.

His fingers slowly curled and
tightened around hers.  “I will be,” he said.  “Eventually.  I’m just a little
overwhelmed.”

“And rightly so.  It’s been quite
a day.  Now, apologize to your sister.”

His eyes opened and stared, a
little unfocused, into hers.  “What?”

“You heard me.  Apologize for
being a jackass.”

“You’re on her side now?”

“I’m on your side.  In
everything, always and forever.  But you had no business going off on her like
that.  Maybe she didn’t do the right thing.  I’m not qualified to judge.  But
if she did the wrong thing, she did it for the right reason.  Because she loves
you, and she cares about the welfare of your daughter.  And you’re acting like
a spoiled brat.  I love you more than I can say, but I don’t particularly like
you when you’re a brat.”

He gaped at her in disbelief,
glanced over at his sister, who was still scowling at him, then at Jesse, who
was deeply involved in counting the floor tiles in his kitchen.  “Fine,” he
snapped.  “I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough,” Casey told
him.  “Say it like you mean it.”

He glared at her and said, “Who do
you think you are, my mother?”

“No, my friend, but I am the
woman who can withhold all, ah—intimacy—from you if I don’t get my way.”

“Hah!  With a teenager in the
house, there won’t be any more
intimacy
, anyway.”

Jesse glanced up from his study
of the floor tiles.  “Try three teenagers and a four-month-old.  Maybe once you’ve
had your teenager for a few weeks, we can compare notes.”

Rose snorted, and just like that,
the tension was broken.  “Ah, hell,” Rob said, rubbing his eye with the heel of
his hand.  “I’m sorry, Rosie.  I promise I won’t scream at you again.  At
least, not until the next time we have something to fight over.  I’m even
sorrier now that I know you’re not getting any.”

Rose’s eighteen-year-old
daughter, Devon, walked into the room just in time to hear his last sentence.  “Is
no place in this house sacred?” she said in exasperation.  “Not even the
kitchen?  Just three more weeks.  Three more weeks, and then I can leave this
House of Crazy for college.  I cannot wait!”  And she turned and stalked back
out again.

“I’m sorry, too,” Rose said, as
though Devon had never been there.  “Mom and I really did think we were doing
the right thing.”

“Mom.  Ugh.”  He grimaced and
rubbed both hands over his face.  “You’ll have to talk to her.  Right now, I’m
afraid of what I might say.”  He glanced up at his sister.  “You have to
understand that I’m scared to death.  This morning, I was just me, living my
life, and everything was normal.  And tonight, I’m somebody’s father, and I
didn’t even get the requisite nine months of prep time.  Just—boom.  Instant
dad, without any warning.”