My Heart Can't Tell You No (49 page)

Maddie took the photograph and glanced down to see an extremely skinny, dough-faced teenager. The contrast between the two pictures was amazing, making Maddie study them closely before looking back at Joe.

“Was she ill here?” She held up the photograph.

“It depends on what you call ill. But physically, no. She just didn’t have on her daily layers of makeup yet. Do I have to stand here and tell you that you never needed makeup at that age? That even now, without any,
you
are stunning.” He took the book from her and put it back in his closet. “Ya know, it’s not as if I couldn’t have stayed married to her. But she had an attitude that stunk. She was a conceited, spoiled woman. And worse of all she was a liar. That’s one thing I won’t put up with—no matter how gorgeous the person might be.”

Maddie watched him as he knelt in front of his closet, his words striking her like a knife. “You mean if
I
were to lie to you—you’d leave me?”

He turned slowly, looking at her from the short distance that separated them. “I’m not
with
you yet. Let’s wait until we’re married—or at least living together officially—which should be after the kids go back to their grandparents again. What do you have to worry about? You’re not a liar, Maddie. It isn’t in you.” He stood up and closed the door to his closet. “Come on, I’ve got a son out there expecting some fantastic stories because of you.”

CHAPTER XXVI
 

“D
ad!” The voice burst into Joe’s sleep along with the
r
apid knocking on his bedroom door. “Dad!”

“What?” He groggily pulled the pillow farther under him, not yet ready to awaken.

“Aren’t you getting up soon?!” Ollie’s voice was impatient.

“What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Then no. I’m not getting up soon,” he said, his mind telling him he had to get up, even as his body refused to move.

“Come on, Dad. Maddie’s sick and needs you.”

Joe’s eyes were open immediately. He rolled from the bed and opened the door to find out what was wrong, then he saw his son’s impish grin as Felicia rushed around the corner from the living room.

“That’s not fair, Ollie,” Felicia scolded. “You shouldn’t tell him such things.”

“It got him up, didn’t it?” Ollie looked at his father, dressed only in his underwear. “Do you always sleep like that?”

“Like what?” Joe asked as he stepped back into his bedroom to slide on his jeans as Ollie followed him. Felicia stood at the door, discreetly turned the other way until he had himself properly covered.

“In just your underwear. Grandmother Johnson says I always have to at least wear pajama bottoms.”

“I don’t like pajamas.” Joe walked past the children to make a pot of coffee. He was pleasantly surprised to find one already brewed. “Who made the coffee?”

“Mr. Baker,” Felicia told him.

“Jack?”

“Yes.”

“When was he here?”

“An hour ago. He stayed with us for about half an hour.”

“And just what did you three have to talk about?” Joe poured a cup of coffee then moved into the room, where he stretched out on a chair, noticing that they had been watching television.

“He came down to tell us this movie was on. It’s good. Did you ever see it? He called it a classic.” Felicia sat on the couch, a dish of potato chips next to her.

Joe had to smile as he looked at his children. They had only been with him for six days (this was the beginning of their seventh), but they had changed so much. Little things, like the chips at nine-thirty in the morning, and the new sneakers Felicia had brought with her that were now crusty black. Ollie was always coming home grimy from a hard day’s play or work with Tom or Jack that he seemed to enjoy so much. Their
Grandmother
Johnson
would have a fit to see them like this; to see them as children full of life, not the strange little trophies she liked to keep in her study. Joe glanced at the television, seeing a young Gregory Peck’s face.

“Yeah. I’ve seen it a few times.” Jack had introduced it to him when he was younger.

“Then I guess you don’t want to watch it again,” Felicia said somberly, getting off the couch and heading toward the television.

“Keep it on. I don’t mind watching it again,” he told her, taking a sip of his coffee and watching the smile she had on her face as she returned to the couch. “So, Ollie, you want to tell me what your little joke was all about a few minutes ago?”

“What joke?” He sat on the floor, sharing the chips with his sister.

“Maddie is sick and needs me?”

“Oh. That joke,” he smiled.

“She isn’t sick, Dad,” Felicia told him. “He just wanted you to get up.”

“And what makes you think that remark in particular would do the trick?” he asked, his hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, Dad.” Felicia glanced over at him with a knowing smile before looking back at the movie she was enjoying. “We’re not stupid.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to her. He certainly didn’t think they were stupid. That’s why he and Maddie had tried to be discreet. Other than stopping at her house to pick up the children after work, they had only seen each other twice; once at his home with the rest of the family and once up at Mom’s when they had both visited her at the same time.

“Well, just how
intelligent
are you?” he asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, Dad. You can tell us anything. We’re mature enough to handle it,” Ollie told him, reaching behind him for a handful of chips.

“I’m not going to tell you
anything
yet. I want you two to tell
me
.”

“Tell you what?” asked Ollie.

“What you’re mature enough to handle.”

“Dad, I can’t hear the movie,” Felicia complained.

“Then turn it up and listen between your words.”

“Turn it up, Ollie,” Felicia told him. “We knew you had been living with Maddie for some time now. Robby told us the first day we met him.”

“Anyone would have figured it out anyway, even if he hadn’t told us,” Ollie agreed, taking his place against the couch again after turning up the volume.

“We were just wondering why you tried to keep it a secret,” Felicia told him.

“It wasn’t a secret—exactly.” Joe felt like the child, trying to explain himself. “We just thought it would be better if you got to know her first.”

“We know her now. And I’ll bet you still weren’t going to tell us.”

“It’s kind of complicated. It has to do with the two other ladies who lived with me after I divorced your mother.”

“You’re not going to leave Maddie—are you, Dad?” Felicia’s frightened eyes flew over to him. “Not like you did them?”

“I didn’t really think it mattered when the others moved out of my apartment.”

“It didn’t. They didn’t like us,” Felicia told him.

“You didn’t give them much of a chance, if I remember correctly.”

“
So
? You didn’t care,” said Ollie.

“They didn’t give
us
a chance either. We didn’t like them—they were—daffy,” Felicia remarked, a hint of fright still in her green eyes. “You aren’t going to leave Maddie, are you, Dad?”

“I take it that would upset you.”

“She likes Maddie, because Maddie tells her she’s
boo-ti-ful,
” Ollie teased. “She keeps looking at that picture of Grandmother McNier she put on the wall over there, then she runs into the bathroom to see if she looks any more like her today than she did yesterday.”

“Shut up, Ollie!” Felicia snapped.

Eight days ago Felicia would never have imagined herself stooping so low as to actually mope.

“What about you, Champ? You like her?”

“She can catch a fly ball bare-handed. And Pap Baker said she used to play baseball with the toughest gang of kids in town. Over on the Southside.”

“And when did you start calling Jack, Pap Baker?”

“Well, Felicia calls Mrs. Baker, Gram.”

“
You
call her Gram?” His brows were raised as he stared with disbelief at his children. They had been strictly trained to call their maternal grandparents
Grandmother
and
Grandfather
, and anyone else was to be called
Mr,
Mrs,
or
Miss.

“
You
call her Mom. Aren’t we allowed to call her Gram?” Felicia said, her expression the same as his.

“Of course you’re allowed to. It’s just unexpected. You call your grandparents by very proper, almost cold names, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s because
they
are
Grandmother
and
Grandfather
and Mrs. Baker is
Gram
.”

Now that he thought about it, they were certainly correct. He watched them get involved in the movie he had interrupted, feeling as if everything was coming together for him. They were
his
kids and finally they treated him like
their
dad.

“Did you two eat yet?” He rose and went back to the kitchen for more coffee.

“We had cereal. We wanted eggs but Pap wouldn’t make them for us. He says they’re disgusting, and, he wasn’t going to make us eat anything that looks like it’s staring back at us,” Ollie told him.

“I can make some for you, if you want some,” Joe called over his shoulder as he stood at the refrigerator, their suggestion sounding pretty good.

“No,” Felicia laughed. “We don’t want to eat anything that will be staring back at us.”

“Damn disgustin’ things,” Ollie said in a lowered voice as he tried to mimic Jack Baker. “Looks like somethin’ someone had stuck in their throat and hawked out on a plate.”

Joe’s hand froze. He closed the door and picked up his coffee, heading back into the room to the bowl of potato chips. “So much for eggs,” he mumbled.

Joe spent the morning tossing the football for Ollie. Ever since Maddie had told the boy that Joe had been a talented athlete, baseball seemed forgotten and football had taken its place. It surprised Joe to find that the only thing necessary for his son to communicate with him was the knowledge that they shared the same interest in sports. Throughout the week, Joe had watched his children’s curiosity change to friendly warmth. What it would take to change that
friendliness
into the closeness he wanted, he wasn’t sure, but he was willing to work at it.

“Where’s Felicia?” Joe had taken a shower. He found Ollie in the kitchen, eating a sandwich.

“She went up to help Maddie and Gram.”

He tore off a piece of the boy’s sandwich and popped it into his mouth. “Peanut butter?! There’s meat in there, ya know.”

“I like peanut butter,” Ollie told him.

“What’s she helping Maddie and Mom with?”

“Pickles. They’re putting them in cans or something.”

“What?” He looked closely at the boy then smiled. “You mean they’re canning them.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“You want to go up and see Jack? I hear he’s tearing John’s old car apart. You want to go help?”

“Are you going to help?”

“Yep.” Joe started through the living room and toward the front door.

“Yeah—I’ll help.” Ollie was quick to his feet as he hurried to catch up to his father’s longer strides. “I can get really greasy. I can’t wait to take these clothes home to Grandmother—she’s gonna have a fit!”

They found Jack, Jackie, Robby and John in the Baker driveway working at taking a car apart, piece by piece. The fenders and roof already lay to the side on a pile. The interior of the car was coming off quickly, the older men loosening bolts and nuts then leaving them for Jackie and Robby to finish.

“What can I do?” Ollie asked as he ran ahead of his father.

“Grab that ratchet wrench. I’ve got some nuts over here to come off,” Jack told him, moving to the engine. “Climb up here so you can reach it.”

Joe watched as Ollie sat on the inside fender and went about removing nuts Jack loosened for him. His expression was complete concentration as he went about his work. Joe couldn’t help smiling when he saw Ollie’s hands go to his shirt to wipe off some grease.

“You just come up to watch, Irish?” John asked.

“Sounds okay to me,” he smiled. “But no. I was going up to talk to Maddie a minute before I started in.”

“While you’re up there get me a coffee,” Jack told him.

“Get me a coffee too,” John agreed.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he told them, then turned and started for the house.

He stepped quietly onto the porch, hearing his daughter and Sarah in conversation about how much sugar they should put into a pot, as the acid smell of vinegar hit him full force and almost took his breath away. He went to the doorway, seeing their backs were to him. Maddie was nowhere in sight.

“How many cups do you have in so far?” Sarah asked.

“Seven. Five and a half more, right?” Felicia verified.

“Pretty soon I won’t have to help at all. You’ll be able to do it all by yourself.”

“Where’s Maddie?” Joe moved next to his daughter, peering into the pot containing hot vinegar, water and three spices.

“Down in the cellar. She went to get jars—or so she said. I think the smell was getting to her,” said Sarah.

“I don’t blame her. Are you sure
you
should be in here breathing this stuff?”

“It’s okay. If it gets too strong, I’ll go outside or down to see Beth. Anyway, you hardly notice it after you’ve been in here for a while. Right, Lisa?”

“Right,” Felicia agreed, then turned to her father, shriveled up her nose and stuck out her tongue, indicating she didn’t like the smell either.