"I've got some great news, honey,"
That's right; his agent was supposed to have called. "What's up? Did you get the phone call you were waiting for?" I was too tired to show much enthusiasm at this point, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I forced myself to perk up.
"I'm off to Hollywood tomorrow afternoon! They want me to go down to discuss the screenplay. My agent says he thinks they'll go for my ideas on how to adapt it, and if so, I'm home free." He leapt up and gave me his best impression of Gene Kelly, singin' in the rain.
I scrambled out of the recliner and gave him a big hug. "How thrilling! I'm so proud of you."
He stopped suddenly, grabbed me by the shoulders, and said, "Come with me! We could have so much fun. It will only be for a week."
"Go with you?" The thought of a trip to Hollywood made my skin crawl. I didn't like big cities, and the last thing I wanted to do was to go romping along Rodeo Drive on a Value Village budget. Besides, more practical matters intruded. "Andrew, I can't leave the shop and the kids on such short notice. I simply can't dump all of my responsibilities and go."
His face fell. "You don't want to come with me?"
"I can't go with you." Couldn't he understand that being a mother meant I couldn't just take off every time I wanted to? We'd already been through this a couple of times since December.
Andrew petulantly dropped to the sofa, glaring at me. "Can't, can't, can't," he said, a sneer forming on his face. "Every time I've suggested we go somewhere, you can't leave the kids, you can't leave the shop. They make convenient excuses whenever you don't want to do something. Well, I've got news, Em. Your children aren't babies anymore, and you have plenty of help in your store." His voice turned bitter. "I thought you wanted us to be more of a couple—"
The kids were upstairs, and I was pretty sure they could hear what was going on. "Lower your voice or leave." I inhaled slowly and let my breath out in a thin stream. "Andrew, last week you made it clear that you don't believe in marriage. I'm not asking you to propose to me, so don't start in on that again, but I warned you that I can't let myself get deeply involved with a man who won't even consider the possibility of a long-term commitment. Kip and Miranda are already too attached to you. Are you going to stick it out when things get rough? Being a father figure is a lot different than playing uncle the way you do."
We stared at one another. Was this it? Was this the end? Then, without another word, Andrew pulled me to him, his tongue lightly playing over my lips, his arms holding me like they would never let go. It was so incredibly sweet I wanted to cry, but I gently broke away.
He stared at me, his dark eyes flashing, whether with anger or passion, I didn't know. "No, I don't believe in marriage, at least not for myself. And I don't think I ever want to have any children of my own. But that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon you and the kids. Can't we just take things one day at a time?"
Torn, wanting him so bad my stomach ached, I ground my teeth together and pushed out of his arms, hugging myself as I paced back and forth. "I'm not twenty years old anymore. I have children. I can't take things one day at a time. They need stability, and so I have to plan ahead. They come first, Andrew, and they will always come first until they walk out that door to start their own adult lives."
He let out a big sigh. "What do you want, then? A written guarantee that I won't leave you? I wouldn't be able to give you that even if we did get married."
Defeated, I held out my hands. "No, and it would be ridiculous to even think of asking you for something like that. If I thought there was a good chance you might want to be with us for the long haul, I'd risk it because you're a wonderful man. But I just can't live in the moment without giving any thought to the future. I can't hope to change you any more than you can hope to change me." I gave him a pleading look. It would be so much easier if we weren't so attracted to each other, but the passion, between us couldn't be denied.
After a pause, he sat on the sofa and pulled me down beside him, taking my hand in his. "I'm not going to lie; marriage scares the hell out of me. I've seen a lot of relationships sour when they hit the altar, but I don't want to lose you. And you know that I think the kids are great." He glanced at the clock. "I've got to go. I still have to pack. Tomorrow, I drive down to SeaTac to catch the plane. Don't do anything rash while I'm gone. Please?" He gave me another kiss and then grabbed his coat.
I stared at the door as it closed behind him. Did I really want Andrew to give me a ring? It was early in our relationship to be talking marriage, but I wanted some sense that I mattered to him, that I was more than just a girlfriend. If he really cared, he'd say no instead of sheepishly breaking our dinner dates when his buddies called him over for the big game. He'd take me out to enjoy the evening, not just to cajole me into his bed since I wouldn't let him sleep over here. Maybe the subject of marriage was just the tip of the iceberg.
I stared out the bay window into the night. Like a lot of my friends who didn't have children, Andrew owned his own life. He didn't have to answer to anybody but himself, and that was absolutely fine. But I had Kip and Miranda; they came first, and what would it say to them if I let Andrew come and go as he pleased while trampling my feelings?
No, if Andrew really loved me, then he'd understand why I couldn't run off and leave the kids. He'd have said, "I love you. Do what you have to for your family." No, marriage itself wasn't the issue. I just wasn't sure I was ready to face the real problem.
MY DREAMS WERE scattered by the time I woke up, and I couldn't remember what they'd been. A vague, unsettled feeling hovered over me like a shadow. I peeked out my window. Overcast, with a hint of rain. I loved that wonderful tang that happened right before a rainstorm; it was as if the cedars and moss spritzed the air with their fragrance to warn us to remember our umbrellas. It was barely mid-April, yet I was ready for autumn again, for the red and gold leaves, crisp underfoot, and the mist that rose off the ground to shroud the town in a ghostly fog. Yep, autumn was my season, and I was born on All Hallows Eve, just as my Nanna had been.
After showering, I slipped on a flowing mint-green skirt and coral V-necked tee, then slid a blazer over the top. I buckled my new strappy sandals I'd got at Value-Shooz and stretched out my foot to admire the brilliant heels that color-coordinated so well with my shirt. Summer colors, I thought. Mood brighteners. Feminine and yet professional.
Four
I brushed my hair and was parting it for a French braid when the kids' alarm clocks went off. Within a few minutes, the inevitable squabble erupted at the bathroom door. Not in the mood for temper tantrums, I yanked open my door. "This is not the wide, wide world of wrestling! Miranda, use the shower up here. Kip, use the downstairs shower. Both of you hurry up. Breakfast will be on the table in twenty minutes, and you will both be there, clean, dressed, and with hair brushed."
As I clattered down the stairs, Kip muttered under his breath, but he followed me and disappeared into the bathroom next to the den turned guest room. I faced the kitchen, grumbling under my own breath. Usually I let the kids get their own breakfasts, but the past few days I'd noticed a run on the Pop-Tarts, as well as the plundering of the pastry basket. Time for some decent food. A loud meow startled me. Samantha leapt up on the counter and purred her way over to me. She was immediately followed by her kittens, Nebula, Noel, and Nigel.
"Hey sweetie." I crooned to the calico as I scratched her under the chin. The kittens rubbed up against their mama, and I buried my face in their fur, burrowing my nose against one particularly fat little tummy. I loved the cats, probably as much as the kids did, and they had become an integral part of our household.
It was obvious they weren't going to let me get anything done until they'd been fed, so I dug out the cat food and filled their bowls. As soon as the feline brigade was taken care of, I hunted through the cupboards until I found the instant oatmeal, then filled the teakettle and put the water on -to boil. Rather than fry bacon, I lined the strips in the microwave tray, making sure that the drip pan was securely fastened below. As I waited for the microwave to nuke the bacon, I poured juice and milk and made myself a quad-shot espresso, liberally dosing it with cocoa and Coffee-mate.
Just a little jolt to wake me up. By the time the kids trudged in, my caffeine headache was fading, and breakfast was on the table.
Kip started for the pantry, but I shook my head. "Fed them already. You and Miranda can clean the litter boxes after school. No complaining." Forestalling a barrage of "ah Mom's!" I went back to my own bowl of cereal, liberally sprinkling on cinnamon and brown sugar, then swamping the whole thing with evaporated milk. At least it was hot, I thought. And oats were good for cholesterol levels.
As they ate, the kids filled me in on their plans for the day. Miranda had made a new friend at school. Hallelujah! 1 thought, but kept my mouth shut except for an appreciative murmur. My daughter wasn't going to turn out to be a sociopath after all.
"Lori isn't as serious about astronomy as me, but she's pretty smart. She wants to be a teacher. We'll drop by the shop after school, then can we go to the library to study?"