Within Reach. Sarah Mayberry
Читать онлайн книгу.
Angie.”
Angie smoothed a hand over her hair and squeezed her as tightly. She met Michael’s gaze over his daughter’s head and offered him a faint, sympathetic smile. He didn’t respond, simply dropped Eva’s school bag on top of the rubble on the table and went to the fridge.
“How was school?” Angie asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Eva’s ear.
“It was okay. Dad, I got invited to Imogen’s birthday today. It’s going to be a fairy party. I can go, can’t I?”
“When is it?” Michael piled ingredients on the counter—carrots, zucchini, onions.
“Not this Saturday but the one after that, I think.” Eva pulled a crumpled invitation from her uniform pocket and handed it over.
He glanced at it briefly. “Okay. Remind me to take you shopping for a present beforehand.”
“Okay. I will. And I’ll stick the invitation here, too.” She gave her father a significant look before using a magnet to fix the paper to the fridge door. “See? It’s right here.”
“Yeah, I got that, Eva.” There was a note of impatience in his voice, but even that was subdued. Angie watched him, worried.
Michael started grating a carrot. He glanced up, almost as though he sensed her regard. “You staying for dinner?”
“Sure. Thanks. Can I help with anything?”
“Nope. It’s just spaghetti, nothing fancy.”
Eva groaned. “Not spaghetti again.”
Michael ignored his daughter’s complaint, grabbing a saucepan and filling it with water. Angie felt a tug on the knee of her jeans and looked down to find Charlie peering at her.
“Up, up!” he said, arms held high.
Clearly, Kung Fu Panda’s attractions had waned.
She ducked to lift him, receiving a whiff of ripe diaper as she settled him into her arms. “Wow. Someone’s been busy.” She lifted his T-shirt and pulled his diaper away from his back to do a visual check. What she saw was not pretty.
Michael raised his eyebrows. “Does he need changing?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Right.” He started drying his hands.
“I can take care of it,” Angie offered quickly.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. We’ll be back in five, won’t we, Mr. Stinky Bum?” She jiggled Charlie on her hip as she made her way toward his nursery. The blind was drawn in here, too, giving the room an oppressive, claustrophobic feeling. She flicked on the light, then lifted the blind as high as it would go. Sunshine streamed into the room and some of the tightness left her chest.
Poor Michael. And poor Eva and Charlie.
“What you doin’, Angie?” he asked in his bright baby voice, eyes wide and inquisitive.
“Letting some sunshine in, little monkey.”
She lay Charlie on his change table and tugged off his jeans. She pulled off the soiled diaper and dropped it in the bin.
“Here.” Eva passed a fresh diaper to her, along with the box of baby wipes for the mop-up operation. Angie hadn’t realized she’d followed her.
“Hey, thanks.” Angie gave the little girl a grateful smile.
“It smells.” Eva waved a hand in front of her face.
“Yes, indeed, it does. Your little brother has a gift.”
She cleaned him up while Charlie stared at her with a beatific smile and Eva hovered behind her.
“Can I ask a favor, Auntie Angie?” Eva asked after a few seconds.
“Of course you can. You can ask me anything.”
“Will you remind Daddy about the party?”
Angie dusted powder over Charlie’s nether regions, glancing at Eva. “Sure. But I’m pretty sure your dad will remember all on his own.”
“No, he won’t. He said he’d take me to see the new Miley Cyrus movie and he didn’t. And he promised he’d take me roller skating and we didn’t do that, either.”
Michael had always been a great father. Attentive, playful, protective. He was indulgent when he needed to be, firm when it counted—and he always did whatever was necessary to make his children feel happy and safe. Hearing that he’d let Eva down on more than one occasion recently brought the tight feeling back to Angie’s chest.
“I’ll make a note in my phone and I’ll call him before the party, okay?”
“Thank you, Auntie Angie.” Eva hugged her again. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
They returned to the kitchen with Charlie walking between them. Michael was scraping vegetables into a saucepan before adding a store-bought jar of pasta sauce.
“Can I play with the iPad, Dad?” Eva asked, already sidling toward the couch.
“Half an hour, max.”
“Okay,” Eva said, rolling over the back of the couch and down to the seat.
It was such a classic Billie move that for a moment Angie was stunned. Grief stung the back of her eyes, and for long seconds she could do nothing but stare at the floor. When she dared glance at Michael, his face was utterly expressionless, but somehow she knew that he had been equally affected by the small moment. Suddenly he looked much older than his thirty-five years—old and weary and defeated.
The impulse to go to him and simply wrap her arms around him was overwhelming, but they had never had that kind of friendship. They were comfortable and familiar with one another, yes, but they both sat toward the shy end of the personality spectrum, especially where physical stuff was concerned. Billie had been the hugger, and she’d trained Angie to first accept and then reciprocate her ready affection, but it was not a skill that had transferred easily to the other relationships in Angie’s life.
She started setting the table and after a few minutes Michael spoke up.
“Dinner’s about ten minutes away. Would you mind watching the kids for five while I grab a quick shower?”
“Of course not. Go for it.” She shooed him away.
He gave her a half smile as he left. She finished setting the table, then started on the kitchen. By the time Michael returned wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt, she’d stowed the various foodstuffs in the pantry, emptied the dishwasher and whittled the debris covering the counters down to a stack of paperwork.
Michael’s gaze flicked around the room before finding her. She tensed, worried she’d overstepped, but he simply gave her a small acknowledging nod.
“Thanks, Angie.”
Between the two of them they wrangled Charlie into his high chair. Michael cut his pasta into small pieces and let it cool before offering the bowl to his son. Charlie stabbed at the plate with his Winnie-the-Pooh cutlery, sending food flying. Michael asked Eva about her day at school and her afternoon at her friend’s, saying all the right things in response to her questions, keeping up a semblance of normality.
It was all so subdued and colorless and joyless Angie wanted to weep.
Afterward, she gave Eva the I Love NY T-shirt and lip gloss she’d picked up for her, as well as a funky pair of high-top sneakers.
“Fresh off the streets. No one else will have these for months,” she assured Eva.
“They’re so sparkly.” Eva twisted the shoes so their sequined details reflected the light.
Angie handed a plush toy hot dog to Charlie, along with a miniature version of