Marion Lennox - His Miracle Bride

Bessy suddenly recalled all this in one huge momentous wash of outrage. She opened her mouth, and she yelled.

‘Can you stay at least until we’ve fed Bessy?’ Pierce asked over the yells.

‘I’m staying until you’ve done some explaining,’ Shanni said grimly. ‘I need to murder you or I need to murder my Aunty Ruby, and I can’t figure out which.’

She should leave.

Since Bessy’s initial howl there’d been no time to do anything but run. There certainly hadn’t been time for explanations.

Bessy had needed feeding, bathing, soothing, more soothing, more feeding. The kids had needed baths and dinner. The cattle had needed feeding. Okay, Pierce had done that one on his own. Shanni had stayed in the kitchen and supervised the kids’ dinner while watching Pierce out the window.

There was a huge cow-a bull?-in the paddock closest to the house. Pierce had wheeled a vast bale of hay to the gate on a hand cart, opened the gate and spread the hay.

Wasn’t that dangerous? The cow had looked…looked…

Cute, she’d decided as Pierce had scratched it behind the ear. The big creature had almost purred, leaning its big body against Pierce until he staggered. Really cute.

Actually, not as cute as Pierce.

He was tall and lean and angular. His deep brown curls were unkempt and too long. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and he had shadows under his eyes. His jeans and windcheater looked like he’d been sleeping in them. He looked almost gaunt.

Her impression of Pierce aged fifteen had been that the guy was hot.

Nothing had changed.

What wasn’t hot was five children.

But she did feel sorry for him. To be stuck with five kids…

It was his choice.

It was hardly his fault that his wife had died.

No, but…

‘What are you thinking?’ Wendy asked shyly. The kids were tucking into scrambled eggs like there was no tomorrow.

‘I’m thinking you guys have hollow legs. What have you been eating?’

‘Pie…Dad’s not a very good cook.’

‘Do you call him Pierce?’

‘Yes, but not in front of people,’ Bryce told her, scooping up another mouthful of scrambled egg and closing his eyes in bliss. ‘This hasn’t got a single bit of black on it.’

‘Scrambled eggs is my second specialty, after choc-chip cookies.’

‘Pizza’s Dad’s specialty,’ Wendy said. ‘But the last time we ordered it Dad forgot we didn’t have any cash and the pizza guy wouldn’t take a cheque or credit card and now he won’t come back.’

‘I can make pizza.’

‘You’re kidding.’ It was Pierce, standing in the doorway, surveying the domesticity before him with amazement. ‘You cook pizza?’

‘She means she gets those boxes in the supermarket and thaws them out,’ Bryce said wisely.

‘I do not,’ she said, taking umbrage. ‘I can cook them from the ground up.’

‘Will you cook us one?’ Abby asked.

‘Maybe tomorrow. If I get the ingredients.’

‘Will you stay then?’ Donald was the quietest of the kids. He’d hardly spoken since she’d arrived. He’d simply watched her. Even when she’d set them all to painting, she’d been aware that Donald had never stopped watching her. Now he asked his question and it was like a challenge.

‘For tonight.’ She blinked. Yeah, okay, she was committing herself, but where else was she going to sleep? ‘Tell me you have a spare bed.’

‘We have a spare bedroom,’ Pierce said.

‘It’s Mummy’s bedroom,’ Donald said, still gazing at her with that unwavering stare.

Mummy’s bedroom. Oh, heck. ‘Um, doesn’t Daddy sleep there?’

‘He sleeps upstairs in Bessy’s room,’ Abby said.

‘She keeps waking up,’ Bryce added.

‘Wendy used to get up to her when Mummy was sick,’ Donald said, tilting his chin. ‘Cos Mummy didn’t want Pierce to. But Pierce does it now.’

‘Didn’t your mummy die when Bessy was born?’

‘Just after,’ Donald said.

This was stuff she didn’t understand. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to try. ‘Isn’t it bedtime?’ she asked weakly, and Pierce nodded.

‘It surely is.’

‘Will Shanni tell us a bedtime story?’ Abby asked.

‘I will,’ Pierce said gruffly.

‘We want Shanni,’ Wendy said.

‘I’m washing up.’ Shanni was feeling completely confused. What was going on here? Pierce looked defeated. Battle weary and exhausted. And he’d slept today.

‘Your dad reads you bedtime stories,’ she managed. ‘That’s his job. I’m the housekeeper-I keep house. It’s up to Pierce to keep kids.’

Pierce took almost an hour to read them their stories. When he finally came downstairs, Shanni was sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by stuff.

The more he looked at her, the more he remembered that ten-year-old Shanni. She’d made him smile then and she had that power still, just by sitting in the middle of his kitchen floor. Which was dumb. Dangerous, even.

‘What you doing?’ he managed.

‘This isn’t a fridge, it’s an ecosystem.’ She carefully didn’t look at him. Instead she held up a jar where purple fuzz fought with green slime. ‘Didn’t Fleming invent penicillin this way? Are you searching for a patent cure for chicken pox?’

‘Leave it.’

‘Hand me a rubbish bag,’ she said. ‘Left to breed, this could take over the world.

He found a rubbish bag and held it out. She scooped in so much stuff that even he was hornswoggled.

‘I’m usually neat,’ he said defensively, and she nodded.

‘I remember you at fifteen. You were…neat.’

He glowered. ‘I believe I was wearing a suit.’

‘Blue pinstripe if I recall.’

‘That the rest of the boys thought was…’

‘Poncy. Yeah, I remember you were teased.’

He gazed down, trying to figure things out. Where did she fit? He couldn’t remember. Ruby had simply referred to her as ‘our Shanni’. Our Shanni would love to come and help out.

All he could remember was the oversized bow and the stomping foot and the smile. Mostly the smile.

‘I can’t exactly remember the connection,’ he said apologetically.

‘My dad is Ruby’s younger brother.’

‘So you are…?’

‘Lucy and Will’s daughter. They’re academics. They’re currently in Switzerland.’

‘I don’t remember Lucy and Will. But I remember you.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘You stood on Mac’s toe.’

‘I did, didn’t I?’ she said, and grinned at the memory. ‘He’s grown up to be a used-car dealer. Ruby says he married a woman who’s a real harpy. Good old Mac.’

‘Why did you come?’

‘Aunty Ruby asked me.’ She held up something greenish. ‘Courgette?’

‘Cucumber.’

‘A bit past its use-by date, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I-Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me you had five kids?’

‘I don’t believe I told you anything.’

‘But Ruby didn’t say.’

‘Ruby doesn’t know.’

‘Ruby doesn’t know you have five kids?’

‘No.’

‘You didn’t tell Ruby?’

‘I barely see Ruby. There’s no need to tell her everything.’

‘Yeah, so omit a little something. Like four kids. Something’s rotten here and I don’t know what.’ She’d been foraging in the rear of the fridge and now she emerged triumphant. ‘No, this is dried out. I’m sure it’s a courgette.’

‘Could we cut this out?’

‘Cleaning?’

‘The inquisition.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘And will you get off my floor? I hardly know you.’

‘You know me enough to trust me with your kids.’

‘I had no choice. I had a doctor’s appointment and there was no other available appointment until tomorrow. I loaded the kids in the car, then realized the tyre was flat and so was the spare. You were coming. Ruby said you were trustworthy. So I trusted.’