Mixed Blessings (5 page)

T
he obnoxiously loud buzzer on the dryer sounded. Startled, Marie jumped. “I have to get that.”

His hands immediately went to her waist. He gently squeezed, then pulled her to the edge of the counter and lifted her down. She shivered from the contact—or was it from the emotions shimmering just below the surface that he'd almost bared? He didn't know. Clearly, Marie was a woman of great depth, but she guarded her heart just as closely as she guarded her child.

“You do too much,” Peter decided aloud a few minutes later as he watched her sit on the couch and fold clothes. The vacuum cleaner still rested in the corner, and a grocery list lay beneath a toy car on the coffee table.

“I do what every other mother does. I'm not complaining.”

His hands itched to pull away the laundry basket and make her stop taming the jumbled clothes into neatly folded squares. The intense concentration she aimed at the simple task seemed ridiculous—but then he realized she
was trying to get lost in the rhythm of a familiar task so her life wouldn't feel so chaotic.

“How can I get you to reconsider, Marie? I really want you to move in with Luke and me.”

The distinctive fragrance of fabric softener drifted in the room as Marie folded a pair of Ricky's pants with jerky motions.
They look just the same as the pairs in Luke's drawers—same pint size, same style, same fold.
That odd fact strengthened his resolve.

“I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, Marie.”

“There's nothing you can do. I'm not about to change my mind.” The next few garments were disciplined into perfection under her moves.

“I'm not trying to put you on the defensive, Marie. It's the best option available, especially since we live several hours apart with the wrong biological kids.”

“Give me other possibilities, Peter.”

He sat opposite her and let out a heavy sigh. “We can trade. We each keep the child we've been rearing during the week, then switch them on the weekend.”

“That's pretty disruptive. As soon as they start school and ball teams that won't work.”

Peter reached up and rubbed the awful knot of tension at his nape. “Let's try to limit our plans to the present.”

She nodded and smoothed a collar on a tiny, golden yellow rugby shirt.

“I could have them both one weekend, then you could have them the next.”

“I don't think that's workable—at least not now.” She tilted her head to the side a bit and shot him a rueful look. “Luke is too shy, and Ricky hasn't ever been away from me.”

“All of that is probably valid, but I like the idea of them being together. Right now, you and I are feeling the
impact of this whole mess, but in later years, they will. I want them to have each other. No one else could possibly understand how this upheaval will affect them.”

Marie's fingers curled into the little shirt, and she unconsciously brought it up and crushed it to her heart. She looked at him, her eyes pleading. “I could keep both boys down here during the week, then bring them up for the weekends—”

“No!” Peter scowled. “I'm not one of those cardboard fathers. I take my place in my son's life—in my
sons' lives
—seriously. That plan makes it impossible for me to see my sons each day!”

Marie bit her lip. Blinking furiously, she set the shirt aside. Her hands shook terribly and tears shimmered in her eyes. Finally she whispered unsteadily, “No matter what we do, we're not going to be able to see both of them on a daily basis.”

“If it upsets you so much, Marie, why don't you accept my offer?”

Raw pain ravaged her features, twisted her mouth and leeched the color from her cheeks. In a low, pained rasp, she asked, “How can I? I don't know you at all. We're total strangers.”

“We're both motivated. We could make it work.”

She shook her head. “You've been masterful at this, Peter. I can see why you're so successful. You've enticed me with everything I could want. The temptation is incredible—to have both boys all of the time, to be able to help Sandy more. You offered me everything my heart longs for—but it goes against my soul.”

Peter winced. She certainly knew how to hit the bull's-eye. He tried to hide his feelings by momentarily cranking his head to the side. He drew in a steadying breath, then
turned back. “You're mobile. I'm not. I'm locked into a five-year contract with the hospital.”

“Sandy's doctors and rehab experts are down here. She's made such good progress.”

“I guarantee you the rehab department at my place is top-notch. If you came up there, Sandy would get excellent attention, and I'll put in whatever equipment she needs or adapt her room so she'll be comfortable.”

Marie shook her head. “It's not just a matter of physical care. Tomorrow she's supposed to go out on her first date since the accident. At some point in the fairly near future, she'll move into a living center, but until then, I can't abandon her, and I can't take her away from here.” She pulled another of Ricky's little shirts from the basket and shook it out, almost as if the action were sketching an exclamation point to the end of her assertion.

Peter groaned, “Solomon had it easy. Those two women only brought one kid to him.”

“He had God's blessing and wisdom, too,” Marie tacked on.

“We're both believers. God can and will grant us wisdom if we ask.”

The little shirt rumpled into a messy knot in Marie's hands. “I've been praying for His wisdom and will, but I still don't have any sense of direction. I don't want you to put pressure on me to act in haste.”

“I'll try my best. Look—you're understandably distraught, but I want you to know it's not my intent to make things harder on you.”

“You just want to make them easier on yourself—even though it costs me everything.”

“But you'll gain seeing Luke every day.”

“Don't you think I know that?” she cried. “But I refuse to be reliant on your whims and goodwill. I can't
leave this house. Jack bought it for me. He was fixing it up on his days off. It's all I have left.”

“Why don't you look at me?” He didn't understand her aversion to him. It stung.

Swallowing hard, as if trying to dislodge the huge ball in her throat, Marie confessed, “You look too much like Ricky. I love his dear little face, and when I see you…” She shrugged.

“It's confusing,” he finished softly. He gently set the shirt aside and folded her hand between both of his. “You look so much like Luke, it takes my breath away. Because of it, I feel as if I already know more about you than two short meetings would yield. My impulses to protect, keep and touch you probably come from that.”

“But you can't be that way. You can't act like an authoritative parent and dictate what happens. I won't accept it. It's a struggle to wait for God's will, but that's far better than rushing to make decisions I'll regret later.”

Peter's brows knit in consternation that she still wore her wedding ring. After his wife died, he'd jerked off his band and known beyond a shadow of a doubt he'd never replace it. He kept Marie's hand encased in his and slowly rubbed up and down the length of the back of her slender fingers. He'd barely kept his marriage patched together; Marie still hadn't even let go.
This woman honors her commitments at all costs. Such devotion!

“I don't know what I want or expect,” she admitted. “I prayed for wisdom and guidance, but that prayer hasn't been answered yet.”

“It sounds to me like that prayer was more for the situation than it was for the feelings and dynamics between us.” He curled his fingers so he engulfed her hand. “Until yesterday, Luke and I were just names to you. Now we're real people. These things take time, Marie.”

She finally looked up at him. “If they take time, how can you want us to move in with you now?” She slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. “I don't know you at all, and I'm not sure how to interpret this situation…between us, you know…?”

“What don't you understand? This isn't a time to mince words, so I'm going to be forthright. I'm financially more than comfortable, Marie. You and Ricky can simply move in and—”

Color filled her cheeks. “I won't live with a man to whom I'm not married.”

Peter decided to ease off a bit. He'd come here with that one plan and it seemed so direct and simple. A business deal. They'd be platonic roommates who shared their kids. No fuss, no nonsense, no emotional attachment between the two of them. No chance he'd ever let her close enough to hurt him. Clearly, he needed to spell it out. “I'm not trying to offend you, Marie. If you thought I was using the boys as a means to seduce you—”

The faint wash of color in her cheeks cued him in that he'd just jumped feetfirst into a sensitive topic and needed to be a shade less blatant.

“Marie, let me put your mind at ease. I'm not suggesting anything immoral at all. Sandy would come, too. You'll have your own bedroom—one with a lock on the door so you can have peace of mind—and I'll respect your privacy.”

She signed deeply. “I still can't agree with your plan. I can't live with a man—even if it is platonic.”

Peter sighed. Bitter memories of his wife surfaced. Darlene wasn't willing to get married at first. Neither of them had been Christians. Because he loved her, he agreed for her to move in with him for almost a year until he could convince her marriage held any importance. The wedding
was more a formality and capitulation than a true commitment on her part. It wasn't until he'd lost her and started to rear Luke that Peter began going to church or paid much attention to old-fashioned morals. He wondered if Marie was as conservative as she seemed. He tried to delicately fish for information. “Your notions are pretty traditional. Have you always—”

“Let me save you from walking on eggshells. I'm very old-fashioned. I was twenty-two when Jack and I got married. We were very much in love, but we waited until our wedding night because it was the right thing to do. We conceived our child the second month of our marriage. He was a planned baby, and we were thrilled. After knowing the joy of a loving marriage, I'd never settle for anything less, so you can forget any plans for cohabitating—even if it is completely innocent.”

Peter fell back against the couch cushions. He gave her a lopsided, self-conscious smile. “I needed to know where you stood.”

“Now you know.” She gave him a wry look. “If you're feeling that brazen, is there anything else you want to pry into?”

He spread his hands in a what-else-am-I-to-do? gesture. “This is a high-speed beginning. It isn't conventional, but for the boys' sakes, I think we have to hurdle over the usual constraints and forge a decent working relationship.”

“I'm accustomed to doing that with preschoolers. They're a lot easier. They want to know if I have a pet and if I can hop on one foot. I'm not exactly the most coordinated person in the world, and you want me to jump hurdles!”

He chuckled. “Our cat ran away. I can hop on one foot, but I can't skip. What about you?”

“We had a solemn burial for our goldfish last month.” When he quirked a brow, she nodded, “Prayers and porcelain. I can hop and I can skip. There? Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Not really, but it's a start.” He gave her a boyish grin. “So far, I know you have a sister. What about your folks or Jack's parents? Are there doting grandparents in Ricky's world?”

“I have a stepfather, but he lives in Ohio. Jack's parents are missionaries in Thailand. They write, and we send pictures.”

“So you're doing it alone…unless you have a boyfriend?”

Marie blanched. “I'm not interested in dating.”

She looked like she needed a whole lot of space. He'd pushed her too far and gotten a wealth of personal information, so Peter decided to bail her out by giving her some basic information on himself. Reciprocating only seemed fair.

“Darlene's parents aren't involved at all. A Christmas picture is about all they want or expect. On the other hand, my folks are wild about Luke. Until now, he's been their only grandchild. I have three sisters—all single and madly in love with him, too. I have one more sister out there somewhere. We still have investigators working on trying to find her. It's been eighteen years. She was kidnapped when she was two. As for my personal status—I'm not dating anyone, either.”

He paused and noted how Marie stayed silent. Peter looked around her living room and back at her. “Marie, please forgive me,” he pleaded softly. “I know we got off to a ragged start, but I want us to get along.”

“I understand.” Compassion filled her voice. “It made me sick, exploding your happy little world.”

“You did the right thing. Why don't we start from scratch? We can trade stories about the kids and ease into things a bit. With time, we'll create ways to blend our families.”

Marie stacked all of the neatly folded clothes back into the laundry basket. “I'm not good at diving into relationships.”

He hunkered down and tried to take away the basket. “We have to make an effort to get along.”

She gnawed on her lip and nodded slowly. Her fingers released the basket into his keeping, and at that moment, he wondered if it was somehow symbolic of so many little things she'd inevitably be placing in his care. The way the muscles in her arms tensed, he could see she fought to keep from snatching it back.
Was she thinking the same thing?

“Marie—”

At the sound of his voice, she jerked away. Peter knew she had more than enough cause to be wary, but it still nettled him. She needed a lot of cosseting, loads of reassurance and a gentle approach. With so much at risk, he'd do that. “I tell you what—let's just keep the mix-up between ourselves for now. Luke doesn't understand anything's up. We can keep it a secret until the lab work gets back if Ricky doesn't know the score.”