The Bonus Mum. Jennifer Greene
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can’t remember it? You’re feeling a little discombobulated?”
“That wasn’t the first word that came to mind. But once you said it, yes.”
“Well, I can pretty well guess why you called. I thought a little estrogen-spiced conversation might scare you off, but so far it doesn’t seem to be working.... So yeah, I’ll go Christmas tree hunting with you three tomorrow.”
For a moment he was speechless. “How did you know I was calling for that?”
“Because your girls brought it up about fifty times—that you were going to find your own tree, bring it home, do the really traditional holiday things. And after spending a couple hours with the twins, I figured you’d started to realize that an entire week alone with two girls that age could strain your sanity—no matter how much you love your daughters. And they’re adorable. Anyway...”
Sitting on a chair, Whit couldn’t figure out why he felt so dizzy. “Anyway?”
“Anyway, the last thing I want to do is intrude on your family time. I’m not an Aunt Matilda, who you have to invite for holiday stuff because she’s alone. I’m fine here. One hundred percent fine. Two hundred percent fine even. Just because the girls were bubbling with invitations, you’re talking to me now, and I promise, I didn’t take them seriously.”
“I’m going to have to hang up pretty soon, because you’re starting to make sense and that’s scaring me.” Then he added quickly, “But tomorrow, we figured on taking the Gator, doing a search-and-cut for Christmas trees. I figure around ten in the morning, if it’s not raining? And that’s a ‘please come’ from all three of us, not just Pepper and Lilly.”
“All right, all right! I’ll come. I can’t resist the three of you! But...I’m going back to my stargazing now. If I quit doing this, I’ll have run out of excuses for not working. I’ve got hours of soil samples I have to analyze, so you can’t imagine how happy I am that you called. I got to postpone work even longer.”
She rang off before he could reply. His first impulse was to shake his head, hard, see if he could get some airflow back to his brain.
But his second impulse was to just laugh. Hell. He could feel a wreath of a smile on his face. The call had been completely off the wall and nonsensical...but he couldn’t remember laughing in a long time. Even smiling some days was a job.
Since Zoe died, he’d almost forgotten that he used to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. Laughter used to come to him easy as sunshine. As a kid, he’d been prone to a little trouble, couldn’t shake the mischief gene, but marriage had shaped him up. The twins came six months after the wedding. Neither he nor Zoe was ready for marriage, but she’d had an early ultrasound, so they knew about the twins.
There was no way they could give up two. Or raise two without each other. He was a little mad at first. So was she. Before the babies, they’d both realized that their love affair was more of a lust affair, and the marriage was on precarious ground. But then the girls came. Whit still remembered the first time he’d held his newborn daughters.
He’d been a goner. That fast. That completely. He never knew he had a daddy streak, much less that he would go head over heels hopeless for the squirts. Neither slept at night. They cried in unison, never a little whine, always screams loud enough to wake the dead. If one didn’t have a messy diaper, the other did.
The babies had not only terrorized him; they’d terrified him. In spite of that—in spite of everything—the bond kept growing. He’d have given his life for them. Without a qualm.
Abruptly he heard a noisy attack of giggles coming from the loft. Since they were obviously still awake, he ambled toward the stairs. They were going to love the news that Rosemary was joining them tomorrow.
Still, just from talking on the phone with her, he felt a goofball smile glued on his face. She had that kind of dry humor, the way she talked total nonsense in such a serious tone.
Whit might have killed for his daughters...but it had been a long time since he’d felt anything to live for, beyond the girls. He couldn’t remember smiling...just for himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt lighthearted—and he had no idea why or how Rosemary had evoked those forgotten emotions in him.
But he was glad he was seeing her tomorrow.
After that...well, he’d just have to see.
* * *
Rosemary was trying to pull on thick wool socks and hold the cell phone at the same time. It was not an easy balance act.
“I swear, Tucker, no one could be more of a pain than a brother—unless both you and Ike were calling me at the same time. Just tell me how the new wife is. And how her pregnancy is going. And how the boys are—”
“Everybody’s fine.” Tucker would do anything for her and she knew it, but her oldest brother was more stubborn than a mule. “But I still want you to agree to have Christmas with us. You don’t have to see Mom and Dad. You could just—”
“Tucker! I told you and Ike both that I can’t do that. I don’t want to hurt the parents. I just can’t handle one more conversation about why I canceled the wedding, what George must have done, what I must have done, how I could fix it all if I just called him, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I’ve heard it too many times. I don’t want to miss any of you at Christmas. Even though you’re both total pains, I love you. And your families. I even love Pansy, that damned bloodhound Ike made me babysit for.”
“But—”
She wasn’t about to hear him repeat his argument. “But nothing. I told Mom and Dad that I had to work. If anyone in the universe could understand that, it’s them. And it’s not like I won’t catch up with all of you. I already sent heaps of presents to the kids—”
Tucker, of course, interrupted with different persuasive arguments. Being relentless wasn’t totally his fault. Growing up with absentee parents—and their parents were such terrific surgeons that they were always on call—Tucker had taken on the role of Dad. Being the only girl, Rosemary had tried to play the role of Mom, but since she was the youngest, all she could really do was hand out suckers when the boys were sick. The point, though, was that Tucker thought she needed a caretaker.
Which she did. But not a brother or a dad or a lover. Not a man at all.
She needed to be her own caretaker.
Still, she listened to her older brother’s rant—or mostly listened—as she walked to the closet to retrieve her serious jacket, then ambled over to the front window. Whit and the girls would be here any moment. It was after ten now.
Outside, there was brilliant—but misleading—sunshine. She’d hiked before dawn, almost froze to death. The sleet had started in the middle of the night and stopped before daybreak. But there were still tears dripping from every pine branch, crystal ice on every puddle. She needed wool mittens, and wasn’t sure where she’d seen them last.
“Rosemary...Ike said something about a guy there.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You two are like mother hens, I swear.”
“Well, you’re all alone up there. And if it were me all alone, you’d be checking out how I was doing. No difference.”
“Of course it’s different. You think because I’m a girl, I’m less capable. Who whipped you at poker last time, huh? Who beat you in the kayak race last fall? Who—?”
“Those were technicalities. I’m the big brother, so I had to let you win.”
She made a rude sound into the phone, making him sputter with laughter. Her eyes were still peeled on the gravel road, though. It didn’t matter if Whit was late or early. They were on vacation during the holiday week, so it’s not as if they were compelled to stick to a schedule.
Tucker eventually circled back to his nosy grilling. “About this guy.”