* * *
They took the van. There was no reason not to take the van, considering they didn’t need a back seat for Mary Margaret’s car seat, because Mary Margaret—better known as the Traitor—was busy with her new best friend, Psychedelic Petra.
Keely sat in the passenger seat, arms folded across her chest, still blinking more than usual because if she didn’t, she might just burst into tears.
Which was stupid. Beyond stupid.
She’d known Mary Margaret for four days. Four very short, endlessly long days.
“You all right?”
Keely turned her head slightly, to look at Jack’s profile. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be all right? What are you implying? That I’m not all right? That I’m... that I’m brokenhearted or something because Mary Margaret prefers that walking, talking painter’s palette to me?” She looked forward once more, chin tilted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, I guess that’s settled,” Jack replied, and Keely considered unscrewing the large round knob on the floor shift and feeding it to him. “You know, I didn’t think of it at the time, but it probably wouldn’t be a good thing if you got too attached to M and—Candy. Sorry, but she’s just not big enough yet to haul around a mouthful like Mary Margaret, and Candy just sort of fits. Anyway, this is temporary, for both of us. All three of us. None of us should get attached to her, because she has to go back.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Go back? What is she now—a piece of merchandise? Nice color, pretty good fit, but I think I really wanted something else. Go back. Babies don’t go back.”
“This one does. Or are you telling me you read that note from my cousin and still think I’m the father?”
Keely dropped her chin to her chest. “No, I don’t think you’re the father.” She lifted her eyes, looked out through the windshield, seeing nothing but the empty spaces of rural Whitehall Township. The empty space that would be in her heart when Mary Margaret’s mother climbed down from her mountain and came to claim her child. Not that she’d probably be there to see that—because she would be long gone by that time anyway.
“Damn kid,” she said at last, and her voice cracked, her eyes stung, and she quickly turned her head, looking blindly out the side window.
She didn’t see trees, she didn’t see grass, or houses or telephone poles. She saw Mary Margaret smiling up at her, reaching her arms up to her when she walked into a room. She could almost feel those chubby arms around her neck, smell the baby’s sweet smell after a bath.
Keely realized suddenly that Jack had pulled onto the shoulder of the road, cut the engine.
“You really like her, don’t you?”
“She’s all right,” Keely said, giving in, letting him see her wipe at her wet eyes. “Oh, this is stupid!”
“I don’t know,” Jack said, his voice light, as if he was smiling—not that she’d turn and look at him. “It’s kind of nice to know that Attila the Hun has a soft side.”
“I am not Attila the—” Keely said, at last turning to look at her employer-cum-pain-in-the-rump. “Oh, hell, maybe I am. Gregory said bossy is my worst failing. Right after trying to organize the world.”
Jack’s left eyebrow rose slightly. “Really? I would have put Big-Mouth-Know-It-All first on my list. But, hey, whatever works.”
Keely saw his smile (which probably saved his life, or at least four of his 206 bones), and sat back against the seat, closing her eyes. “I try so hard.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you that one,” Jack agreed, reaching over, patting her hand. “Why do you suppose that is? Maybe your mother was frightened by an underachiever?”
Keely barely remembered her own mother, but she wasn’t going to tell Jack that. No siblings, no cousins; only her Aunt Mary, who never applauded when she did right, but surely knew how to make Keely feel like worm sweat whenever she did wrong—so Keely had worked very hard at never being wrong. She and her aunt had become friends once Keely was grown, but they’d had a lot of tough years.
“I like being in control,” was all Keely said, looking at him. She could have said, “I hate for anyone to know I don’t know everything, that I sometimes feel so out of my depth that three lifesavers wouldn’t keep me from drowning,” but she didn’t. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if you’re leading troops into battle, I suppose, but do you have to be so damn efficient about it?”
Keely felt hurt, and when she felt hurt, she went on the attack. “I guess that would bother you, wouldn’t it, Trehan? I mean, you don’t even sleep efficiently. Your bed is a mess every morning.”
“Yes, and you make it every morning, while I’m still in the shower, or downstairs drinking coffee made from freshly ground beans. Four days and I feel part pampered, part... I don’t know. Scolded?”
“Scolded? Because I make your bed?”
“No. Because you seem to think I wouldn’t make my bed.”
“Would you?”
He shrugged. “Possibly. But that’s not the real point. The point is, you came in here—”
“At your request,” she pointed out, once more eyeing the round black ball on the gear shift.
“Okay, at my request. I was desperate. You didn’t know a thing about babies, but did that stop you? Hell, no. Within hours, you’d furnished the nursery. Within a couple more hours, you’d watched six child care videos and read three books on the care and feeding of babies. You’ve gotten the kitchen up and running, you cook, you’re still able to start furnishing the house, and you put that damn pot rack up without even asking for my help.”
Keely shook her head. “Is that what’s eating you? You’re mad about the pot rack? That’s ridiculous. Besides, I’d first have to find you in order to ask your help. Of course, now I know where you are. You’re down at the garages, making an idiot of yourself.”
“In the interests of détente, I’m going to ignore that,” Jack told her, his jaw rather tight. “But I would like to remind you that what I do with my life is my business.”
“Yes, and how I handle mine is mine,” Keely shot back at him.
“That’s what I thought, too, Keely,” Jack told her after a few moments. “Right up until the moment you stood in the kitchen, your heart breaking, while Candy cooed at Petra. You’re getting attached to the kid, Keely, and that’s not good. You have to remember that this is only a job, and you’ll be gone in a couple of weeks. Hell, Candy may be gone sooner than that, if Cecily comes back. So don’t... get... attached.”
“You mean, the way you aren’t getting attached?” Keely asked, suddenly understanding why Jack kept so much distance between himself and Mary Mar—Candy. “You’re crazy about her, too, aren’t you?”
“No, I am not crazy about her,” Jack answered, turning the key in the ignition, looking over his shoulder, then pulling the van back onto the roadway. “I’m going to Japan soon, remember? There’s a lot of things I want in this life, but a kid—any kid—sure as hell isn’t one of them. Now, how about you give me some directions, so I know where I’m going today?”
Keely narrowed her eyelids, glared at him. “I wouldn’t dare think to tell you where to go. That would be bossy.”
“Yeah, and probably nothing you’d want to say out loud near Candy,” Jack said, his eyes on the road. “I get your drift. However, I think we can make an exception in this case, considering I really don’t know where we’re going. I won’t hold it against you, honest. My list is already long enough, believe me.”
“Just head down MacArthur Road and I’ll tell you where to turn.” She reached down to the floor, picked up her looseleaf notebook, and began paging through it. “Now, remember, we have to buy out of stock, at least for the most part, because ordering will take six to nine weeks. We carry what we can and bend arms to get early delivery on everything else.”
Jack took his eyes off the road for a moment, to look over at the notebook. “I may be wrong, but I think the invasion at Normandy was put together wi
th less paperwork. What are you—we—buying today?”
“Mattress and box spring for the guest room, my room, for starters. I’d like the den furnished, your bedroom, at least the guest bedroom I’m in right now. I’d like a large, round table in the foyer, underneath the chandelier, and we really need to get rid of the echo in the living room, so if we can find a few carpets, that would help. However, we’re only getting the basics today, things we—you—just can’t live without much longer. I definitely want to order most of the furniture, the better furniture, from Aunt Mary’s usual suppliers. Oh, by the way, I’ve taken the liberty of hiring a cleaning service. They show up tomorrow.” She closed the notebook, looked at him. “Unless you think that’s too efficient?”
“No, I suppose not. I couldn’t ask you to clean the house, right?”
“Not in this lifetime, unless you cloned me, and I’m already pretty sure I know your answer to that one,” Keely said, relaxing a little. Then she went for broke. “I also called an old acquaintance from high school, remembering that she planned to become a nurse, and got the name of the best pediatrician in town. Mary Margaret has an appointment with him next Tuesday at ten o’clock.”
Keely felt the van slow as Jack took his foot off the gas. “Why? She’s not sick, is she?”
“No,” Keely said, enjoying his reaction. Wasn’t getting attached? Ha! “It’s just that your cousin’s note mentioned that Mary Margaret hasn’t had her shots yet, and every book I read gives a list of shots she needs. She’s way behind. Besides, she’s supposed to have something called ‘well baby’ checkups. There’s only one little thing I haven’t mentioned—you’ve got the note from Cecily, saying you’re in charge of Mary Margaret, so I think you’ll have to go along, at least for the first appointment. Unless you’re already in Japan,” she ended, not all that kindly.
Jack gave the steering wheel a soft hit with his fist. “Damn Cecily. Now I’m going to the doctor with the kid?” He looked at Keely. “Are you sure I have to go along? What if the doctor wants to give her one of those shots you’re talking about?”
“Turn right at the next light,” Keely said, grinning at him. “And what’s the matter? Does the big, bad baseball star faint when he sees a needle?”
Jack slammed the palm of his hand upward on the turn signal, then cut into the right lane, muttering something that actually sounded Japanese.
Keely didn’t think it was anything nice. She wriggled slightly on the uncomfortable seat and shut her mouth.