Meeting at Midnight (12 page)

O
ne week later Annie and Jack were in Denver looking for a larger apartment; Charlie was in Arizona, planning landscapes and planting them; Zach was at Mrs. Bradshaw's; and Seely was checking out a job in the office of the elementary school near the house.

Me, I was back at work. Only for a few hours, true, but it felt great to be sitting at my desk in a chair that knew the ins and outs of my body as intimately as any spouse. My sling was draped over the back of that chair. I'd taken it off as soon as Manny left for the Patterson site, and would put it back on before I left the office. But I didn't need it. Not anymore.

In the past two hours I'd signed a few checks, talked to two suppliers and looked over bids from subcontractors. But right now I was staring out the window, wishing I was with Manny.

Deceiving Seely made my stomach hurt.

Not that I'd lied to her, but there's more to honesty than avoiding a spoken lie. I was about to do something behind her back.

I sighed, punched in the number I'd gotten from directory assistance, then listened to the phone ringing on the other end. It rang seven times.

At last a cheerful female voice sang, “Hello! This is Daisy, live and in person. Do you hate those blasted machines as much as I do?”

“Ah—I'm not too fond of them.”

“Especially the ones that make you keep punching in numbers. ‘Punch three if you'd like to place an order. Punch four if you hate broccoli. Punch five if you've ever been arrested.'”

I found myself smiling. “Punch five and you'll probably wind up arrested and hospitalized. Someone's sure to punch back.”

She laughed. “Good point. So who is this?'

“My name is Ben McClain. I called because—”

“Seely's man! How wonderful of you to call. She has a rule, you know. I'm not allowed to interrogate anyone she dates for at least a month. But you called me, so that makes it all right, don't you think?”

“You want to interrogate me?”

“I prefer to think of it as a little get-acquainted chat.”

If Seely's mother wanted to know about my intentions or my bank account, I should be okay. I had the idea Daisy Jones didn't operate on the usual channels, however. “If you want to know my astrological sign, I haven't the foggiest idea.”

“Oh, I don't cast horoscopes anymore. What's your favorite member of the vegetable kingdom?”

Vegetable kingdom? I shook my head and told myself to play along. “There's this oak tree in the backyard…I guess you could call it my favorite.”

“You picked a tree.” She sounded delighted. “The name of your first pet?”

“Rocky. Do you really do this to anyone Seely dates?”

“Most people get used to it,” she assured me. “Tell me about Rocky. Was he a dog or a turtle?”

“Why those two options?” I asked, disconcerted.

“Hedging my bets. Rocky sounds like a turtle, but I tend to think of boys and dogs.”

I told her about Rocky—a box turtle I'd found when I was three. Then I told her my favorite time of day; the one food I wouldn't eat if someone tied me down and stuck pins in me; which former president I'd like to meet, and why; and what kind of vehicle I drove.

She liked trucks. Knew quite a bit about them, too, which didn't sound like any New-Age witch I'd ever imagined. But then, I wasn't clear on whether she considered herself a witch.

While we talked trucks I looked out the window at the new Dodge Ram sitting in my parking spot. The insurance company had paid up in record time, and yesterday Seely had gone with me to select the new pickup. I'd intended to get a white one, like usual, but had to admit the dark blue looked good.

A truck wasn't a good family vehicle, though. Maybe I should trade the old Chevy in on something newer….

“We may have to agree to disagree about Fords,” Seely's mom said. “Now, to get back to my questions—how old were you when you had your first sexual experience?”

I didn't quite swallow my tongue. “You've got to be kidding.”

Daisy's chuckle was low and wicked and made me think of her daughter. “You'd be surprised how often people answer that one. I suppose I should stop tormenting you and let you get it out of your system. Whatever you called to ask me, that is.”

“Why do you think I called to ask you something?”

“Why else would you call? Unless Seely was ill or injured, and she isn't.”

I didn't ask why she was sure of that. What if she told me, and I believed her? “Seely has a brother. I need to know how to get in touch with him.”

There was a long pause. “Seely knows his name. Why don't you ask her?”

I ran a hand over my hair. “I'll level with you. I want to talk to the man, and I don't want Seely to know about it. Not right away, at least. It would be wrong to get his name from her if I'm going to do something sneaky with the information.”

“An interesting ethical distinction. Why do you want to talk to him?”

“She's got issues.” I pushed to my feet, unable to be still. “She doesn't think the deal with her father is supposed to bother her anymore, but it does. She was going to leave Highpoint without talking to him or her brother. That's not right.”

“And you know what's right for her?”

“Not about her father,” I admitted. “She's got some heavy-duty feelings there, and with reason. I don't understand how a man can ignore his own child. I can't sort that out for her. But her brother…she won't have the same kind of old hurt tied up around meeting him.”

“Mmm. I see what you mean—the expectations would be different. But, Ben, meddling is seldom wise.”

“Seely said she came to Highpoint because she was curious. I think it's more than that. Whatever pulled her here, I don't think she's fixed it yet. I think she needs to meet her brother. Find out if he smiles slowly, the way she does. If they watch the same shows or eat the same foods. If she likes him.”

“He's a half-brother. She may not see that much of herself in him.”

I shrugged impatiently. “Half, whole, he's still family. Does he know about her?”

“I don't know.” Another pause. “I've believed for some time that she needs to resolve some of those issues you mentioned. I hadn't thought about going in the back door, so to speak, via her brother. It might work.”

Relief broke over me in a grin. “You're going to help.”

“I never claimed to be wise. His name is Jonathan. Jonathan Burns.”

“Thanks.” Still grinning, I reached for the phone book and started thumbing through it. There was more I wanted to ask, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up. “Ah…Seely told me about her grandmother.”

“Mrs. Burns?”

“No, I met that one. It wasn't fun.” There it was: Jonathan S. Burns, 1117 W. Thornbird. I closed the phone book. “What I mean is, Seely told me about your mother being a—” I swallowed “—a witch.”

“Did she, now?”

“If she wasn't supposed to say anything—”

“No, I was just surprised. She doesn't talk about our family's heritage to many people.”

“Yeah, well, speaking of the family heritage…hell. She just pulled up. I'd better go.”

“Don't worry about it,” she said soothingly. “I was just going to tell you to discuss it with Seely.”

I was irked. “You might try letting me ask a question before you answer.”

“It's more fun this way. I noticed that you had a hard time saying the word witch.”

“It's a weird word. Listen, Ms. Jones—”

“Daisy.”

“Daisy, then. I really have to go.”

“Seely's been hurt in the past by people who couldn't accept her.”

I'd suspected as much. “She wants to feel normal. I don't know what—ah, nice talking to you,” I said hastily as the door opened.

Seely cocked an eyebrow at me as she strolled into my office. She had a satisfied look that made me hope the interview had gone well.

“I'll call you later,” I told her mother firmly.

Daisy chuckled. “I'm tempted to ask you to put Seely on, but I'll resist. Bye, Ben. Call anytime.”

I disconnected, put the phone down and gave Seely what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “Either you got the job, or you're really glad to see me.”

She laughed, came up and put her arms around my neck. “Both.”

“Good to know our schools aren't being run by idiots.” I gave her the kiss her uptilted face invited. “We'll celebrate. Want to go to the resort for supper and sneer at Vic?”

“I like the way your mind works. But no business talk. You're not supposed to be working at all until you've been to the doctor for your checkup. Which is Tuesday, right?”

The pleasure drained out of me. “I canceled it. I'm not going to the doctor, Seely.”

“You…” Her voice trailed off and her gaze flickered to the sling hanging on my chair. She swallowed and looked away. “I never meant to force you into some kind of coverup.”

She was feeling guilty. Hell. And for the wrong reason—she
ought
to feel bad about not telling me everything, not because I was helping her keep her secret. “It's no big deal. I don't need to see the doctor to know I'm healing just fine.”

Her head gave a single shake. “You shouldn't be forced to lie for me.”

“I doubt I'll have to. Anyone who finds out I didn't go in for my checkup will put it down to me being ornery and lecture me. Hey.” I put my fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face toward me. “This is not a big deal. It's not like I'm some kind of saint who never told a lie.”

Her expression was odd, sort of sad and tender and wry all at once. “Not a saint, no. More like George Washington. You can't tell a lie without it troubling that great, big integrity bone that runs alongside your spine. Which is why I wondered…” Her eyes searched mine. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were looking guilty when I came in. Maybe about whoever was on the phone?”

It took me a beat too long to reply. “Good thing you know better, isn't it? Come on.” I reached out and snagged my sling. “Let's get me rigged up so we can go home and primp for our night out.”

She laughed, as I'd hoped, and offered to loan me some lipstick. I shook my head and said I couldn't use her colors because I was a winter—a bit of female jargon I'd overheard. That really tickled her.

And all the while I was thinking about secrets, hers and mine, and that secrets were bad for a relationship, worse for a marriage. Mine wouldn't be a secret for long, though. Once I figured out a way to get Seely and her brother together, I wouldn't have anything to hide. But hers…

I gave her another kiss and headed for my new, dark-blue truck. She climbed into her car and we drove home sort of together, sort of alone, each in our own vehicle. Which pretty much summed up this whole relationship business, I thought gloomily.

 

“Look, Daddy! Look at me!”

Zach had promoted me from Dad to Daddy a couple of months ago. Whenever he called me that, my chest got warm and tight. “I'm watching,” I told him from my spot on the other side of the cedar fence. “You're way up there, all right.”

He and the twins were all over Mrs. Bradshaw's jungle gym, bundled up against the chill. I'd meant to bring him home until it was time for Gwen to come for him, but the three kids were having too much fun.

“So where's your pretty lady?” Mrs. B. asked.

“Inside, gilding the lily.”

“Looks like you did some gilding, too. You're looking mighty dressed up.”

“Now and then I leave off the flannel.” My sports coat was suede the color of old buckskin, and tailored western-style. It had been a gift from Annie last Christmas. She called it “very Robert Redford.” I don't know about that, since I doubt there are many men on the face of the planet who look less like Robert Redford than I do. But I was secretly proud of the way it looked. And I could wear it with jeans, which made it just about perfect. “We're going to the resort for dinner.”

“Good for you. About time you took her someplace nice.” Faded blue eyes twinkled behind the lavender-framed glasses. “You thinking of keeping this one, Ben? I like her.”

“I'd tell you to mind your own business,” I said amiably, “but I hate to waste my breath.”

She chuckled. Naomi Bradshaw was a little dab of a woman with leathery skin and the most noticing eyes of anyone I knew. I guess thirty years of keeping track of kids will do that for you. She'd raised her own after her husband walked out, plus having had a hand in raising any number of other people's kids.

She was also the nosiest woman I knew. “Good to see that you're not mooning over Gwen anymore.”

I scowled. “You've got a helluva imagination. And no tact.”

“Don't have to be tactful with someone whose diapers I changed.”

“Try another one. I was seven when you moved in next door, and you didn't start keeping children for another couple of years after that.”

“The principle's the same. You haven't changed much since then—still stubborn as a mule.” She shook her head. “Guess you thought the sling would mess up the lines of your pretty jacket.”

Damn. I'd forgotten all about the stupid thing when I changed clothes. I didn't want her wondering why I was doing so well. “I don't need the damned sling,” I growled.

“Stubborn as any mule,” she repeated. “Better put it on so you don't start out your evening with an argument, because unless I miss my guess, Seely isn't…”

“Mrs. B.?” I straightened. She had an odd look on her face, as if she'd turned queasy. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She waved one hand vaguely, but she didn't look any better. And she sounded winded. “Just a little…” She shook her head, looking confused. “I feel funny.”