Linda Markowiak - And Baby Makes Six

No! He’d make this work, he wouldn’t take the easy way. Never again. He’d promised Anne he’d take care of everyone, and that meant taking care of them all.

Luke had used Mitch’s Jeep to take his brothers home from the airport. So Mitch rented a car for the short ride. As they climbed the hill to his house, he said, “There’s where you’re going to live.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and he saw her bite her lip.

“It’s big.”

He didn’t know if that was good or bad in the eyes of this kid. The old, rambling farmhouse, white with green shutters, had seen many additions by the time he and Anne purchased it. The land hadn’t been farmed in years, and had been seeded to grass. Behind, out of view, was the pond where he’d learned to skate as a kid. If you stood in the backyard and looked across the pond, you could see the small house where he and Kathy had grown up.

In the front, the yard sloped down to a huge old red barn that he’d had converted into a garage and stable, with a new tack room attached to it. In the pasture were the kids’ ponies.

Crystal said, “Those are your horses?”

Thank God for animals, Mitch thought. “They’re not horses. They’re the ponies I told you about. I can teach you to ride them.”

“No thank you,” she said in that southern drawl. “They look too big.”

“Maybe when you get used to them—”

“They’re too big.”

“Okay,” he said quickly.

As they pulled into the driveway, the boys spilled out of the house. Jason was first, eleven, with dark hair like Mitch, an anomaly in that he was small and wiry in a family of big men. Behind him were the fifteen-year-old twins, Ryan and Tommy. The twins were blonder, like their mother had been. The oldest, Luke, was dark, too.

Jason jogged up to the car, Ryan right behind him.

Crystal scrunched up in the seat.

Mitch reached over to ruffle her hair and stopped at the last minute. He settled for a pat on the shoulder.

“They’re big,” Crystal said. Tommy and Luke, who was big by anybody’s standards, had followed Jason and Ryan. All four boys came to a halt in front of the car. There was some shoving as they peered into the car. Without looking, Ryan reached behind him and put an elbow in Tommy’s gut. Then Ryan tried to push Jason aside. Crystal scrunched up even farther.

Mitch sighed. At least there was no sign of Face-off.

He touched his niece’s arm again. “They’re nice boys, once you get to know them.”

“I don’t like boys.”

“I live here, honey. We can sit in this car for a while, but sooner or later you’ve got to get out and meet your cousins.” At that moment, Jules let out a mew from her cat carrier in the back seat. “Jules needs to get out of that carrier and explore. It’s not good for a cat to be locked up too long.”

Crystal bit her lower lip and nodded. Then she reached around and pulled the carrier toward her. She got the little wire door open and scooped the cat into her arms. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“It’s going to be fine.” Mitch reached over to her side and flipped her door handle open.

He got out of his own side of the car as Crystal opened the passenger door. “Listen, guys,” he said to his sons. “Give the kid a break. No roughhousing for a minute, you hear?”

“Sure, Dad.” As usual, Luke, his oldest, was quick to size up the situation. He said to his brothers, “Now shut up and make nice for your cousin.”

Crystal slowly got out.

Jason said, “You don’t look like Dad.”

Ryan said, “Uh, hi.”

Tommy said, “A cat.”

And Luke, bless him, said, “It’s going to be okay. We’re not as bad as we sound.” He gave Crystal his million-watt smile, the one that always worked on the girls of North Shore, Ohio. It apparently impressed eight-year-old girls, too, because Crystal took a tentative step toward him.

Just then the front door exploded and a blur of black came blasting out. Face-off ran toward them at breakneck speed, ninety-five pounds of fur and mutt, barking like the beast he was.

Crystal screamed.

Jules sprang from her arms.

Face-off headed straight for the little girl. As she cowered and screamed, the dog caught sight of the kitten and veered.

Jules tore off across the lawn, Face-off at her heels.

“Shit,” Mitch muttered, hampered for a moment by the fact that he was still on the far side of the car. “Get that dog!” he shouted.

Luke had already begun the pursuit. Jules made a dizzying circle around the huge lawn, followed by dog and four boys. Around and around, faster and faster, Face-off barking his head off, Luke and Mitch shouting, the other boys yelling in glee, Crystal standing by the car screaming, a shrill, high wail that went on and on.

Mitch veered right, trying to block Face-off. The dog saw him and put on the brakes, skidding toward Mitch in the wet grass. Mitch tackled him. Jules skittered under the wire fence and into the pasture, where she was lost in the tall grass.

The kids skidded, too, ending up in a messy tangle.

Face-off licked Mitch’s face. Ice-cold mud seeped through his jeans.

Slowly, Crystal’s wailing tapered off into silence.

Mitch got to his feet. The dog jumped up, planting a couple of muddy paws on the front of his jacket. “Down!” Mitch said, and the dog—reacting to the no-nonsense tone—obeyed. “Sit.” A quivering sit. “Jason, come get this dog!”

Jason untangled himself from the other boys and grabbed Face-off by the collar. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he said quietly. “I thought I had him locked in the laundry room, but the door doesn’t work too well since Tommy broke it last week.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Mitch said. He turned to look at Crystal who was sobbing quietly. “You guys are going to have to do better. She’s not used to boys. She’s a little girl, and she’s just lost her mom. Don’t you remember how that felt?”

“I remember,” Jason said in an even quieter tone, and suddenly all the anger left Mitch. He walked over to Crystal and picked her up. She felt skinny, warm and fragile, and her hair spilled over his arms.

Despite the mud, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed in earnest. “Jewels is lost.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s just hiding, because she doesn’t understand that Face-off only wants to play. Listen, we’ll lock up Face-off better this time, and put a bowl of milk on the stoop, and Jules will come home. I promise.”

There was a pause. “I hate your dog,” she finally sobbed.

She might as well have said, I hate you. I hate your family. I hate that you’ve brought me here.

Mitch held her tightly. He was still breathing hard from chasing the dog, but that didn’t explain the peculiar ache in his chest.

TWO WEEKS LATER, what was left of Jenny Litton’s world fell apart.

She stood at the sink in the ladies’ room at Kyle Development and pressed a cool, wet paper towel to her cheek. That helped some. A moment before, she’d been in the toilet stall with dry heaves, and her whole face was flushed. She swallowed, trying to quell the nausea. As the manager of the real-estate development company, she had no time to be sick.

Perspiration was beaded on her upper lip and she dabbed there, too. Then she wadded the paper towel and took out her lipstick. She smeared Plantation Rose across her lips with a hand that quivered slightly.

Giving in to a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the glass of the mirror. Cool and smooth, it felt comforting. She opened her eyes and stared at her own face a fraction of an inch away. Apart from the redness in her cheeks, she looked much the same. Her makeup understated and carefully blended, her silver-blond hair well cut and turned under at the ends. Small studs in her ears. Nothing flashy for Jenny Litton. Nobody from here to Savannah would ever accuse her of flash.