Three Boys And A Baby (American Romance) Page 6

  “Meatballs aren’t stupid, Oliver. You are!”

  “You are!” Oliver sassed back.

  “Hush,” Ella whispered loudly enough for both boys to hear and know exactly how serious she was. “Now, both of you get out your lists, and—” Her cell rang.

  While she answered, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Oliver poking his brother’s right side. With her free hand, she gently tugged a lock of hair on the back of his head, then shot him her best Evil-Mom stare. Anticipating a problem with one of her patients, she said, “This is Doctor Garvey.”

  “Hey, doc.” It was Jackson. “Sorry to bug you, but a situation has cropped up that—”

  “Wait—” she headed down the aisle from the boys “—let me guess. You suddenly find yourself starring in a wedding you didn’t even know was happening?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  She laughed. “I’m making my apparently world-famous Swedish meatballs for your reception.”

  He groaned.

  “Need moral support?”

  “Bad. Would you mind?”

  Her stomach fluttered at the prospect of spending more time with him. “Tell you what,” she suggested, ignoring her warring conscience, “the boys and I were headed to Chunky’s Pizza after picking up their baseball gear and Rose. Want to meet us in, like, thirty minutes?” Pulse racing, it occurred to her that she’d just asked him on a date. Way to go on steering clear of the man!

  “Sounds super. Thanks. See you there.”

  She was just about to tell him he was most welcome, but he’d already disconnected. Which was probably a good thing, right? But if it was good, how come she was actually a little disappointed?

  “Stop hitting me!” Owen cried.

  She glanced up to find Oliver having batting practice on his brother.

  “Oliver?” she scolded, taking the bat and setting it back into the display rack. “What’s the matter with you? You know better than to hit your brother.”

  He touched his chin to his chest.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, mister. I want an answer. Now. What’s bugging you?”

  “Everything,” he said.

  “You’re just mad ’cause Mom is making meatballs and you didn’t get your way.” Owen stuck out his tongue.

  “Stop,” she said to her youngest.

  “Back to you, sweetie, what’s got you feeling so mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  She sighed. “Owen, hon, do me a favor and take Oliver’s football gear back.”

  “No! I’m keeping it!” Oliver scrambled to grab the equipment, but Ella intervened, snatching it all, then handing it over to Owen. “Be sure this stuff gets put in the right spots, please.”

  “’Kay, Mom.”

  “Now,” Ella said, kneeling in front of her scowling little man. “Aside from the fact that you’re not playing football until at least junior high, what’s the problem?”

  “I already told you,” he snapped. “Nothing.”

  She sighed. “We’re not moving from this spot till you tell me what’s going on behind those squinty little eyes.”

  “I don’t have squinty eyes.”

  “No,” she said with a half smile, cupping the side of his cheek. “Actually, you have very handsome eyes, but back to our original topic, you know I know when something’s bugging you, so you might as well just tell me, or we won’t have time for pizza.”

  For the longest while, he held tight to his silence, but then a few tears escaped, and he clambered into her outstretched arms.

  “Sweetie,” she crooned, “please, tell me—”

  “It’s not fair,” he said on the heels of a hiccup.

  “What’s not?”

  “How come Dillon’s getting his mom back, but we can’t have Daddy back? How come he has to be with that stupid Dawn? I hate her. She makes me wash my hands like every five seconds.”

  As much as Ella agreed with her son that Dawn tended to be somewhat of an obsessive-compulsive neat freak with a dash of germophobe thrown in for good measure, she held her tongue and aimed for the adult conversational course. “Here’s the deal,” she said, not quite sure where to begin. “Dillon’s mom didn’t leave because she stopped loving him or his dad, but because she, um—” is beyond selfish “—was really needed at her work. Now, I’m thinking maybe she’s not as needed at her job, so she’s got more time for Dillon and his dad.”

  “Did our dad leave because he did stop loving us?”

  Wow! How did she answer that? She supposed as truthfully as she could without breaking her boy’s heart.

  Forcing a deep breath, she said, “Your dad loves you very much.”

  “Then how come he had another baby so he could forget us?”

  “Sweetie, no. That’s not why he had a baby with Dawn. Not because he didn’t love you, but because he loves Dawn so much, that he wanted to—”

  Arms crossed, Oliver snorted, then turned his back on her and walked away.

  “Honey, come back. We’re still talking.”

  “No, we’re not. You’re just lying, because you think it’s what I want to hear. Face it, Mom, Dad’s never coming home, and you don’t even care!”

  ELLA HAD RELAYED her latest kid trauma over two large pepperoni pizzas and a pitcher of Coke while the three boys were off playing in the kid-sized hamster habitats and ball pits. Afterwards Jackson conceded, “Okay, you win. That beats my wedding crap. What are you going to do?”

  “Wish I knew.” She sighed, nuzzling Rose’s downy hair.

  “And speaking of other topics weighing me down, there’s this cutie. Not that I don’t love having her, but I’d forgotten how much work babies are.”

  “Want me to take her for a few days?”

  “No. Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll call Hank and see how he’s coming along with finding her mother.”

  Jackson and Ella had been passing Rose back and forth, sharing their afternoons. When Dillon had come running in after school, breathless with excitement over the fact that Julie had told him they would soon be a family again, Jackson hadn’t said a word to refute him. After all, why should he? Having Julie finally come to her senses and return home was what he’d prayed for, wasn’t it? But despite countless nights’ prayer, he was now consumed with doubts. What he’d felt for Julie last night when she’d been mothering Dillon was resentment. Downright anger for her audacity in believing he’d just roll over and take her back. Forgive and forget, as if she’d never hurt him and their son.

  “We’re some pair, huh?” He held out his arms for Rose.

  “My turn.”

  She handed the sleeping infant to him, and Jackson smiled when Rose snuggled into his chest.

  “She likes you.”

  “Yeah, it’s my animal magnetism.”

  “Probably more like your beating heart,” she said with a grin, reaching for her drink.

  “You’re no doubt right, but can’t you allow me at least a little daydreaming about my prowess with the ladies?”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are the one whose ex wants to reconcile. I’d say that must prove something about your manliness.”

  “Ha, ha.” He shot her a feeble grin. “Do you honestly think it’s me Julie misses, or Dillon? Or, hell, for that matter, her master bath with a wall of windows?”

  “Tough to say.” Ella reached for a slice of pizza. “Maybe a combination of all three. The important thing to realize is that at least she’s opened the door for a reconciliation. That’s huge. If Dillon’s already this excited, can you imagine how magical the day you and Julie remarry will be? With that end goal in mind, no matter what the initial catalyst, you can’t lose.”

  Grabbing his fourth slice of cheesy heaven, Jackson grimaced. “That sounded more like a rah-rah speech for a football team than a lesson in love.”

  “Sorry,” she said with one of her cute grins and a shrug.

  “Guess I spent too much time at the sporting goods store this afternoon. But think
about it. In some ways, don’t you think love resembles football? Sometimes you get the glory, but more often, as has been my luck of late, you end up flat on your back in the mud.”

  “Good point.” After finishing their pizza in companionable silence, Jackson said, “For the past two years, I’ve been in the mud. Dillon, too. How do I know once domestic bliss wears off, Julie won’t run again? Dillon couldn’t take it.”

  Neither could I.

  What he needed was a woman he could one-hundred-percent trust. A woman for whom family came first. Take Ella, for instance. She’d never leave her boys for some big city E.R. job. Even after discovering Todd’s infidelity, she’d tried staying together with him for the kids. It had been Todd who’d ultimately left. Some in the neighborhood had secretly considered her a fool for giving Todd that second chance, but Jackson had considered her honorable. She’d taken her marriage vows as seriously as Jackson had taken his. Too bad the same couldn’t have been said for their respective spouses.

  “Honestly,” Ella said, tracing the dancing bears on the plastic tablecloth, “all you have to go on is your gut instinct. Odds are Julie’s sincere, but for your own sake—most especially, Dillon’s—don’t jump right back in to your relationship. Take it slow. Reacquaint yourself with the qualities you first loved about her. If it’s meant to be, hopefully the rest will fall into place.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “It means a lot that you care.”

  “Absolutely. Dillon’s happiness is important.”

  The shine in her eyes told him she was sincere in wishing his son the best. But another part of him, the part more intrigued than ever by the creases at the corners of her lips, wondered…What about my happiness, Ella?

  As soon as he’d thought the question, he dismissed it.

  Of course, he’d be happy again with Julie, and, of course, Ella wished him the best. She was his friend. And as such, would no doubt have been shocked by the notion that he not only found her attractive, but that every time they were together like this, he found it harder to say goodbye.

  “Not to butt into your parenting skills,” she said, “but I think it’d be best if you have a frank talk with Dillon ASAP. Let him know that just because you and Julie are trying to work things out, there are no guarantees.”

  “Good idea.” Especially since Jackson wasn’t entirely sure he was even capable of forgiving Julie. “But you know what would be even better?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Taking the boys for ice cream. What do you think?”

  Frowning, she said, “I think you’re trying to sabotage my diet.”

  “Is my evil plan working?”

  “Sorry, but beyond walking off this pizza on my treadmill, the boys have homework, and I have more charts needing to be updated.”

  “Sure,” he said, wishing his chest weren’t tight with disappointment. “Another time. We are still on for steaks tomorrow night, though, right?”

  “You know, I’d love to, but—”

  “What’s the matter?” he couldn’t help but blurt. “Why am I suddenly getting the cold shoulder? Trying to avoid me?”

  “No. It’s just that—”

  “Mo-om!” Owen, breathless, crashed to a halt in front of their table, giving it a large enough jolt to startle Rose, who started screaming.

  “What’s the matter?” Ella asked, reaching for the baby and soothing her with crooning and a few jiggles. Was it wrong for Jackson to wish she’d work her magic on his frazzled nerves?

  “Oliver and Dillon are stuck!” The boy pointed to a sharp turn in the highest section of the hamster maze.

  Jackson looked up only to groan.

  Sure enough, there were the two boys, arms and legs intertwined, faces contorted in tears—silent through the clear orange plastic tube. The kids were more shaken up than in any danger, and if they’d both calmed enough to think about it, they could’ve easily worked themselves free.

  Shaking her head, Ella said, “This job has you written all over it.”

  “And here I was just thinking you were better suited for such a tight space.”

  She smiled sweetly. “While I appreciate the vote of confidence in my tiny derriere, you are the fireman.”

  “Damn,” he mumbled good-naturedly under his breath.

  “Uh-oh…” Owen wagged his index finger. “You said a swearword. Mommy, you gonna put him in time-out?”

  “Just this once, I’ll let it slide.” Hands on her hips, she turned her attention back to Jackson. “Well? Aren’t you going to the rescue?”

  “Under one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You and the twins come for steak tomorrow.”

  “I already told you, I—”

  “Mom, say yes, or Oliver and Dillon are gonna die.”

  Rolling her eyes at her son’s theatrics, Ella stood firm. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why?” Jackson pressed. “What could be wrong about a good meal shared with good friends?”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Owen said, looking back and forth between the two adults. “It sounds fun to me.”

  “Help!” Came a muffled cry from above.

  “All right,” Ella said with a sigh. “We’ll be there, just please, get those two down from there, so I can give them a piece of my mind.”

  Chapter Six

  “I still don’t get why you’re so bent out of shape by this,” Ella’s nurse and best friend, Rachel, asked the next morning. “It’s just dinner between friends.”

  “Yeah, a friend I could all too easily be attracted to.” During a rare and wonderful lull between patients, they sat across a small table from each other in the clinic’s kitchen/break room. On a long-ago weekend, Ella and Todd had painted the walls yellow just like her kitchen at home. What fun they’d had, flirting and laughing and dodging flicked paint.

  “So? What’s wrong with that?” The freckle-faced, platinum blonde blew a bubble with her nicotine gum. She’d tried stopping smoking many times in the past, but this time, she’d been cigarette-free for two months and Ella was hopeful it’d last. “Heaven knows you could use a good date.”

  “Why’s that? My life’s plenty hectic as is. Why on earth would I want to further complicate it with a man?”

  “Yes,” Rachel said, stirring four packets of sugar into her coffee, “but as you already pointed out, Jackson Tate’s not just any man. Not only is he a hottie, but he rescues small children from giant hamster wheels.”

  “They weren’t in a wheel, just—”

  “I know, I know. I was making a joke. Something you seem incapable of.”

  Following a trick from her sons, Ella stuck out her tongue at her friend.

  “That was real mature.”

  “Sorry. I’m having a hard time with this, and you’re not helping.”

  Leaning forward, Rachel asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Listen. Yes, this guy seems like perfection, but he not only has a lot of emotional baggage, but an ex-wife wanting to hook back up. Dillon’s ecstatic. Even if Jackson found me attractive—which he doesn’t—there’s no way after the hell Todd’s infidelity put me through, that I would turn around and actually become the other woman.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” After a sip of her coffee, Rachel added, “How do you even know Jackson wants to get back together with his ex?”

  “Gee, maybe because he told me.”

  “Oh.” Lips pursed, Rachel asked, “Any chance he was drunk?”

  Ella tossed an empty sugar packet at her. “Big help you are. Next time I need help, remind me to call a psychic hotline.”

  “HEY, YOU GUYS, get away from the ditch!” Jackson flipped the baked potatoes on the grill. To Ella, he said, “Is it just me, or does it seem like our gentlemen have a knack for finding trouble?”

  “They do.” She was rocking Rose’s carrier with her red-tipped toes. They were cute toes. A feature he couldn’t remember ever having found irresistible in
a woman before. “But then I guess if you asked my mom, I was always in trouble at their age.”

  “Me, too. But I bet you were adorable trouble—mud on your cheeks, and Strawberry Shortcake bandages on both knees.”

  “Bite your tongue. I had superhero bandages, thank you very much.”

  “Ah, you were a tomboy?”

  “Heck, yeah. None of that girly stuff for me.” Rose stirred, emitting a few fitful cries. Ella scooped her from the carrier and into her arms, then dug a formula-filled bottle from her diaper bag.

  “Need to warm it?”

  “Nope. I already did at home.” She held the bottle to the baby and Rose hungrily latched on.

  The two looked heartbreakingly lovely in the fading light, citronella torches flickering, crickets chirping. The fieldstone patio had been a bear to tackle, but seeing his neighbors enjoying the fruits of his labor filled him with satisfaction.

  “Did you ever get hold of Hank?” he asked, wondering how much longer they’d have the baby with them.

  “I tried, but he’s at a convention in Chicago. I asked your friend Heidi about it, and she said they’ve got a few leads as to who Rose’s mother might be, but nothing she can share.”

  “Ah,” he said with an exaggerated nod. “Top secret, huh?”

  “Apparently.”

  They’d sat in companionable silence for a few minutes—save for the boys’ occasional shrieks of “That was sooo out!”—when Jackson could no longer hold in the question that’d been burning him. “We ever going to talk about it?”

  “What?” she asked, wiping milky dribble from Rose’s chin.

  “Why you did a sudden one-eighty about tonight.”

  She sighed.

  “That was informational.” After closing the grill’s lid, he stretched out on the padded lounge chair beside her. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not really. I’m busy. End of story.”

  He snorted.

  “You don’t believe me?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Should I?”

  Glancing out to where the boys played stick ball at the far end of the big backyard, her expression was hard to read. Almost as though she wanted to tell him something but wasn’t sure where to start.