Mixed Blessings (10 page)

T
hat weekend, Marie felt absolutely sick to her stomach as she drove north. From the moment Peter told her his family was getting involved, she felt like she'd swallowed a carton of BBs. It was hard enough dealing with the distance between them and not seeing Luke each day. Handling Peter's innately forceful personality took all of her tact. She knew his wealth and social position gave him clout she'd never match, and though he'd never once used those against her, the threat he'd implied at their original meeting came flooding back.
You take good care of him until I can.

He said his family was worse. Would they try to take Ricky away? Would they pressure her to move up here? There were so many of them, they could run roughshod over her desires and fill Ricky with thoughts and promises….

Promises.
Today's promise from her Bible verse box ran through her mind.
Don't you be afraid, for I am with you; don't be dismayed, for I am your God; I will
strengthen you; yes, I will help you; yes, I will uphold you with the right hand of my righteousness.

Lord, I'm so scared. I'm more than just dismayed, too. You promise to strengthen me, yet I feel so weak. I don't even know how to pray. Please, just please…
Regardless of the evening chill, she rolled down her window and gulped the fresh air to keep from being physically ill.

“Are you all right?” Sandy asked.

A hasty peek in the rearview mirror assured Marie that Ricky was still fast asleep in his car seat. She curled her fingers more tightly around the steering wheel and confessed, “I'm scared half to death.”

“Hmm.” Sandy waggled her brows and asked in a lousy Groucho Marx impersonation, “Want me to drive the rest of the way?”

Marie gave her a wobbly grin. “No, thanks. I haven't fallen apart yet, and I don't want you to get us in a crash before I have a full nervous breakdown.”

Sandy laughed.

Marie forced her fingers to relax. She tried to rotate her shoulders to ease off on the tension. “It's good to hear you laugh. A few months ago I wondered if you'd ever be the lighthearted sister I once knew.”

“I'm adjusting.” Her sister didn't even pause a beat. “You'll adjust, too. You were a total basket case the first time you drove up here. If you're honest with yourself, you have to admit that it turned out fairly well. Peter's an okay kind of guy. He takes some getting used to, but once you get past the bulldozer exterior, he's all right.”

“It's hard not to be flattened by a bulldozer. I'm facing a whole convoy of them this time!”

“Yeah, but they don't have a secret weapon—me!”

After she let out a tight laugh, Marie glanced at her
sister and whispered, “I'm so thankful you're coming along. I couldn't do this without you!”

“Yes, you could. I put in an unspoken request. The whole prayer chain at church is behind you!”

“They'd better be praying hard for a miracle.”

It was just past midnight when they pulled into Peter's sweeping driveway. The lights blazed from nearly every room in the house. The front door opened before Marie even turned off the motor. Peter strode out to the car and opened the back door.

Peter grinned at Ricky. The sight of his son never ceased to fill him with a surge of wild love. “I'm glad you made it,” he whispered to Marie, as he deftly got Ricky out of his car seat and carefully handed him over to Miss Anne without waking him. Miss Anne carried him into the house.

Peter pulled the wheelchair out of the trunk and opened Sandy's door. He knew she worked hard to become independent, but she looked tired. “You're undoubtedly feeling stiff after the long drive. I'll help you.”

“Thanks.”

After he smoothly transferred Sandy into her chair, she awkwardly patted his chest. He smiled. She winked, then her wheelchair whirred away. Marie started to follow her, but he reached out and held her back. “Wait a second.”

Moonglow turned her hair a silvery color. Her features looked strained. He stroked his fingers down her grim cheek in a featherlight caress. “I was worried. I'm glad you're here.”

“Afraid I was going to change my mind and stay home?”

“That, too.”

Her features twisted and color filled her cheeks. “Oh, Peter, I'm sorry for being nasty. I'm a little road weary.
You were concerned that I might have fallen asleep behind the wheel, weren't you?”

“If you were tired, why didn't you stop at a hotel and call me?”

“I'm not sleepy-tired. I'm stiff-tired. I don't think I could've stayed behind the wheel for much longer.” She sucked in a breath and quickly added, “Please don't try to give me your if-you-lived-closer speech.”

Those exact words had been on the tip of his tongue. He gave her a guilty smile. “Okay, I won't. I need to tell you something.”

The intensity of her gaze went up several notches. He'd sensed she felt strained, but the way her features went taut cued him in to the fact that her tension hovered at a critically high level. Peter hoped she'd understand.

“Brianna, Kate and Jill are dying to meet you and Ricky. They couldn't wait 'til morning, Marie. They're all inside. It's like a high-voltage slumber party in there. I couldn't calm them down. The last time they were this bad was when I brought Luke home from the hospital. I'd better warn you, they stayed for a month that time.”

“Is this your way of telling me they'll be here all weekend?”

“'Fraid so.” He cupped her elbow and led her toward the door. After a few steps, he stopped. “Marie, you're shaking. Believe me, my sisters are terrific. You have nothing to worry about. They'll love you.”

“I need to tuck Ricky in and help Sandy to bed.”

“Anne has Ricky well in hand. Sandy's not supposed to hide behind the scenes—they're eager to meet her, too!”

She vehemently shook her head. “Sandy's exhausted. If they invite her to stay up, she's going to feel obligated to or embarrassed to turn them down.”

“Face it, Marie—Sandy's an adult and she handles herself and her limitations well. She can tell everyone she's tired. She can just about take care of herself, and you know it. I know you're nervous, but don't try to find excuses to avoid us.”

“I didn't ask for this! You've set me up!” She pulled away from him and stared at him in disbelief. “It's hard enough, trying to live a double life. Then, you buttonholed me and decided to spring your family on me. I tried to be a good sport—after all, I came.” She made a slashing gesture toward the car, then to the house, and her voice grew shrill. “Still, that wasn't enough! You have them all here, lined up to take my son and—”

“Hold on a second! They came on their own. I invited them for tomorrow, just as you and I agreed. They got excited and embellished the welcome a bit.”

He'd hoped she'd understand. Clearly, she didn't. The stubborn look in her eye warned him he'd better not push too hard. Peter forced himself to calm down and appealed to her on a different level. He wheedled, “Take it as a compliment, Marie. They want to make Ricky their nephew right away.”

“Oh, please! Let's forget that bit of deception! It's the middle of the night! Ricky's fast asleep. He wouldn't know if a nuclear bomb went off. Sandy needs my help, and I have to be sure the boys are all right. Once that's done, I'm going to bed.”

She did just as she asserted. Though his sisters had a whole array of tempting snacks waiting in the living room and were eager to gossip, Marie gave them an icy nod, a plastic smile and went off to bed.

“I thought you said she was sweet,” Kate complained.

“What got into her?” Jill wondered.

“I don't know,” he grumbled darkly. “I don't understand women.”

An hour later, Peter sat on the edge of his bed and wondered how he'd missed the fact that Sandy had slipped a note into his shirt pocket. She must have done it when he got her out of the car. He unfolded it and strove to subdue his emotions. “Marie's upset because this coming Friday marks the second anniversary of Jack's death. Please try to ease things for her with your family. She's lonely and scared.”

He read the note again and tucked it into his dresser drawer. The last thing he needed was for Marie to accidentally see it. Still, he was grateful for that insight. No wonder she'd seemed so strained.

A small rustling sound caught his attention. Peter hastily donned his robe and went to check. He found Marie in the boys' room. He stood in the doorway and watched her. She knelt at Luke's bedside and tenderly filtered her fingers through his baby curls. At that moment Peter was glad he hadn't gotten them cut yet, even though his mother had been pushing him to. Marie should make that decision. A few seconds later she bowed her head. At first he thought it was in utter defeat, but then he noted her lips moved a bit. She was praying over his son. Peter wanted to go join her, but something held him back. He stood in the shadow and cherished the sense of rightness of her tending to his son's budding soul.

After a short interlude, Marie kissed the child, smoothed his blankets and moved over to Ricky. Peter grinned. True to form, Ricky flipped over and got so wrapped in the blankets, he needed to be untangled. She did so with practiced flair, never once disturbing his rest. She knelt beside him and prayed for him, too.

After she was done praying, Marie stayed at the bed
side. Should he slip away and leave her this time alone with the boys, or should he go in and share it? Peter wasn't sure. Realizing this would be their only time alone together for the entire weekend, he decided to approach her. “Couldn't sleep?”

She shook her head and stood.

Peter gently engulfed her hand in his. “I'm not great at reading you, but I can tell something's bothering you. Want to talk it out?”

“No, thank you.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

She tugged her hand free. “Once I make a decision, I rarely change my mind.”

“I'm willing to bet if it weren't for your iron resolve, you would have stayed home this weekend.” Her eyes widened guiltily. “You're so tense, sweetheart. What about some time in the hot tub?”

Marie took an immediate, giant step away from him. Her arms wrapped around her ribs as she gave him an appalled look. “I'm not your sweetheart.”

“Okay, Marie. I'm sorry.” She'd never been demonstrative with him at all, but from the way she constantly snuggled and caressed the boys and made contact with Sandy, Peter knew Marie's reserve stemmed from a need to clearly define their relationship as platonic. They were standing in a bedroom while his sisters were in the house, so it made perfect sense that Marie would be hypersensitive about her reputation; but Sandy's warning shed a whole different light on why Marie acted so standoffish. Instead of taking it personally, he shrugged it off. “Sandy said traffic was a nightmare. Why don't you go get into your swimsuit and soak in the Jacuzzi?”

She shook her head. “I haven't worn a swimsuit since I had Ricky—I mean, Luke—I mean, oh, forget it!”

“Marie, how did you think you'd get through a pool party tomorrow without a bathing suit?”

Even in the dim room, her cheeks glowed with color.

“I have a supply of suits in the changing room off to the east of the pool. I'm sure there's something that'll fit.”

She gave him a humorless smile and evasively whispered, “I'm sorry for waking you. I'll go back to bed now.”

Peter stayed at the boys' bedside and listened to her slippered footsteps grow muffled as she padded down the hall. Seconds later, he heard her whisper a few things to Sandy as she helped her sister with whatever it was that qualified as her nighttime routine. When had Marie last slept all through a night? She woke up with Ricky at least once a night, and she also took care of Sandy. Peter decided to work something out so she could nap for the next two afternoons. The poor woman was ready to drop from sheer exhaustion.

M
arie woke as a loudmouthed baritone boomed, “Where's my other grandson?”

“Shh, Dad!”

“Don't make snake sounds at me. Go get him!”

“He's sleeping.”

“It's seven-fifteen! Wake the tyke up! I've been waiting three long years for this!”

Marie carefully disentangled from the boys and slipped upward. She was in the embarrassing position of crawling off of the bed as the knob turned and the man's voice blustered on. “You didn't tell me
she
was in here!”

Marie hastily snatched her robe from the foot of the bed and held it up in front of herself. Heat radiated from her face, and she knew she had to be blushing virulently. She stared at the floor and stammered, “Please excuse me. I um… It was… Peter, please give me a minute!”

“Come on, Dad.” Peter dragged him out as Marie dived into the belated coverage her robe yielded. She cinched the belt in at the middle and combed her fingers through her wildly tangled hair.

Ricky blinked owlishly and decided to make his demands known. “Mommy, potty. Hungreeeeee!”

“Men are too demanding at any age, my dear. I'm Lauren, Peter's mother.” An impeccably groomed woman with elegantly coifed, silvering auburn hair pushed her way into the room. “Look at him! He's the spitting image of Peter! Geoffrey, you have to see him!”

Ricky took one look at the woman, screwed up his face and let out a terrified screech. He sprang to his feet on the bed and trampolined into Marie's arms. “Mommy!”

“Please excuse us.” Marie sidled past the gawking woman and into the small lavatory. She made a distinct point of shutting the door.

While Ricky used the commode, Marie muffled a moan as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair looked like she'd stirred it with a stick. Her skin was pale, save the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Everyone would have been correct in taking one glance and finding her incompetent to handle another matter, however small it might seem.

On the other side of the door, a well-modulated voice singsonged, “Good morning, Mom! Don't you look fabulous!”

“Kate, honey!”

After a few seconds in which Marie assumed they hugged or kissed, she heard Kate ask, “If someone came bustling in on you at seven-thirty all dressed to the nines and caught you sleep tousled, especially for a first meeting, wouldn't you be mortified?”

“Why, yes, I suppose I would, but Ricky's just a little boy!”

“Yes, but his mother is entitled to her privacy and dignity. She slept in here last night, and we've put her in a terrible position.”

“I'd resent anyone backing me into a corner like that,” Peter's mother admitted.

“Let's go have a chat over coffee. I'm sure Marie will be out soon.”

When she heard the bedroom door shut, Marie let out a gusty sigh of relief. So that was Kate. “God bless her,” she whispered.

A few minutes later, Sandy zipped in. “Brianna helped me a little. Peter never told us she's a nurse.”

Marie smiled at her. “You look great.”

“I'll go hold down the fort. Want me to take Ricky?”

“I'd rather be with him when we do the reunion thing.” Marie glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned. “But I need to make myself presentable.”

“Okay. We'll see you soon. By the way—if his folks and other sister are as nice as Kate and Brianna, you don't have a thing in the world to worry about.”

After a quick shower and shampoo, Marie had Ricky change out of his pajamas and into his favorite firefighter shirt and boots. She gave serious thought to skipping her usual wave of a mascara wand, swipe of blusher and lip gloss. The sin of vanity won out. She wasn't going to face everyone without looking decent. She'd chosen her apple-green sundress with appliquéd flowers on the bodice. It always perked up her spirits, and she desperately needed any boost she could get.

The skirt made a light swishing sound as she walked down the hallway where the bedrooms were located, past the elegant-looking beige-and-toast formal living and dining rooms and toward all of the voices in the sunny breakfast nook. Ricky clutched her hand tightly and carried his fire truck.

Everyone went silent. Peter and someone who had to be his father both shot to their feet. The man gaped.

Peter sensed Marie's uncertainty the second he spotted her. He gave her what he hope was a bolstering look and extended both hands. He drew her toward himself with one large hand and took Ricky's free hand with the other. It was hard to keep from staring at her. She looked so fresh and pretty, so utterly feminine, that he wanted to sweep her into his arms and inhale the flowery fragrance of her hair. Concocting a smile was no burden. “I'm glad you're here.”

“I'll second that!” his dad agreed heartily. “Son, you didn't tell us Ricky's mother is—”

“Probably starving while we all chatter like brainless twits,” Kate inserted, cutting her father off before he gave an appraisal of her appearance.

“Twits!” Ricky echoed the word with glee.

Peter threw back his head and laughed at Marie's dismayed expression. He steered her into the seat directly next to himself as Kate tickled Ricky and popped him onto the booster seat between herself and Marie. “Ricky's got big ears, just like Luke,” he warned.

“My ears isn't big!”

Kate studied him and announced, “You're right, tiger. Your ears are just right! Do you want cereal or eggs for breakfast?”

“Cereal, please.” He let go of his fire truck when Kate lifted it onto the table as if it belonged there.

“Such nice manners,” Lauren Hallock purred. She then gave Marie a rueful smile. “I'm afraid his are far better than mine. I owe you an apology for bursting in on you this morning. I'm so thrilled to meet my grandchild, I overlooked simple courtesy.”

Peter noted Marie managed to manufacture a wan, albeit polite, smile. He patted her hand. “If everyone would sit back and relax, I think we'll all appreciate the
breathing space. There'll be plenty of time to get to know each other. For now, let's fill up. These little guys are enough to wear you out in nothing flat!”

Sandy giggled. “Anyone want to borrow my wheelchair?”

Peter made quick introductions, then kept passing food to Marie and tempting her to eat. She barely nibbled on anything. She usually had a fair appetite, so he knew she was trying valiantly to put up a polite front. She answered questions, but didn't initiate any conversation.

Ricky rested his fist on his fire truck and pointed. “Who's that man, Mr. Peter?”

“I'm Grandpa, and we get to go swimming later. Luke likes to swim. Do you?”

“Mommy said no boots in the pool.”

Peter chuckled as he reached around Marie's back and rumpled Ricky's hair. “In case you all can't tell from the fire truck and his firefighter badge and boots, Ricky loves the fire department.”

“Marie, more milk, please.” Luke held his cup up to her, and she promptly filled it. Peter secretly cheered for his son. He'd asked Marie for help even though there were others at the table he'd known far longer. She had to know that meant a lot.

Peter's father drummed his fingers on the table. “Ricky, why are you calling your daddy Mr. Peter?”

For a second, everything at the table stopped. Just as suddenly, his sisters all started a jumbled exchange. “I'd like more milk, too.”

“Please pass the bacon.”

“Ricky needs a napkin.”

Ricky ignored all of the intended damage control and cocked his head to the side. “I had a daddy, Grandpa. He died and lives with Jesus.”

“Yes, that's right,” Marie said firmly. Her eyes blazed, but she didn't have any color to her cheeks whatsoever.

Peter saw his father open his mouth, and he immediately cut him off. “Dad, let it go.”

“But Luke calls Marie Mommy,” Peter's father groused. “It's only fair.”

Peter said, “Enough, Dad.”

Ricky's fingers tightened around his fire truck. “She's
my
mommy!” He turned to Marie. “You're mine!”

“Luke called her—”

“Marie,” his mother said very distinctly, silencing her husband.

Peter lifted Luke into his lap. His son, the introvert, had popped his thumb into his mouth—a sure sign he was upset. Likewise, Marie had Ricky wrapped in her arms. The four of them made a tense little knot. Luke pulled his thumb out of his mouth and grabbed a fistful of Peter's shirt. The moist brush of his thumb against Peter's collarbone echoed the vulnerability in his voice. “You're my daddy.”

“Yes, Luke. I'm your daddy.”

“You not Ricky's daddy.”

Peter couldn't lie to his son. He clutched Luke to his heart and looked Ricky in the eye. “Yes, I'm Ricky's daddy, too. You're both my boys.”