Roz Fox - Married in Haste

“Hmm. I wonder if that’s what my nurse Anita meant when she said I should jump for joy that I have girls to raise instead of boys. You ought to meet her, Abby. She raised six boys on her own.”

“And she’s still sane?” Shaking her head, Abby turned and walked out. Ben heard her tripping lightly down the stairs.

It was twilight by the time the plumber finished, took the check Ben wrote out, packed up his tools and left.

“Ben, you shouldn’t have paid the bill. It’s my house. Well, not mine, actually,” she amended when the twins declared the house belonged to them.

“I broke the shut-off valve,” Ben said by way of explanation.

“Yes, but the problem occurred before you set foot in the house. And…speaking of feet… Your Italian leather loafers are history, pal.”

Ben surveyed his soaking shoes as well as the lower edges of his slacks. “Abby, you’ve got no idea what gets dripped on the shoes of a pediatrician throughout a normal workday.”

“I think I have a fair idea. You still shouldn’t have to pay,” she murmured.

“I paid the plumber because you said you’d feed this hungry mob.” His sudden boyish grin creased his cheeks, which had begun to sport a five-o’clock shadow. “My stomach is growling.”

“My guys missed lunch as well as dinner. Hey guys—and I’m including girls—how about I order in pizza tonight?”

Erin Drummond, who hadn’t budged from one small corner of the couch since they’d first arrived, was the lone dissenter. “I want to go home, Uncle Ben.”

Kicking off his shoes and peeling off wet socks, he walked barefoot to the couch and sat beside her. “Hey, mouse, what gives? I know you like pizza.”

She held herself stiffly aloof. “I don’t like it here. It’s noisy, and boys are dorky. Noah keeps saying he’s going to turn that awful dog loose.”

Abby gasped. “Noah David Drummond. I’m ashamed of you. What do you have to say for yourself, mister?”

The boy’s square jaw lifted pugnaciously. “Let them go home. Who wants Erin Drummond hanging around looking bug-faced?”

Mollie flew at Noah. “My sister’s not bug-faced. You take that back.” She punched him in the mouth and blood spurted.

Although Abby reached for the combatants, Ben moved faster. But Noah shoved Mollie hard. Her back struck the recliner, causing Sam as well as Mollie to cry out.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Erin cried, slamming her book closed as she popped to her feet and glared at Noah. She stretched out a hand toward Mollie.

Ben’s two-fingered whistle rent the air. “Time out,” he snapped, his scowl sufficient to send both girls scurrying toward the door. The older twins froze in place. The younger ones dropped the Hot Wheels cars they were lining around the room’s perimeter. Kneeling next to Sam, Ben softened his voice while he efficiently checked the boy’s legs for possible injury. Then he examined Noah’s swelling lip. Used to the sound of crying, Ben didn’t realize all the other kids had joined the chorus. Not until he rose and assured Abby that Noah was okay.

“What’s gotten into the ones who weren’t involved?” he asked Abby.

“Perhaps we should postpone sharing pizza,” she responded, circling her arms around the four boys. “It appears we’ve all had an eventful day. I’m sorry, Ben. We didn’t have a chance to catch up.” She checked her watch again, but instead of meeting Ben’s confused eyes, she let her gaze stray toward the kitchen, where the dog had set up a racket again.

“Ruffian’s hungry and lonesome,” Noah declared, clenching his small hands as he stalked past the huddled girls. “It’s not fair he can’t come out ’cause of twitty girls. It’s his house, too, you know.”

“See, Uncle Ben,” Erin squealed. “Noah’s going to let that monster out.”

“Ruffian’s not a monster,” Brad and Reed shouted in tandem.

Throwing up his hands, Ben grabbed his shoes and socks and waved his nieces toward the exit. “I give up. There’s no chance of us carrying on a civilized conversation in this madhouse. Abby, I’ll be in touch.”

Ben missed the longing look she aimed at his retreating back. “Thanks for everything, Ben, including moral support,” Abby said, trailing him to the door. “If you only knew how much I miss adult conversation. It goes without saying that I love the boys, but…”

Ben spun around, without realizing she’d crept up on him. She stood near enough so that her light, flowery perfume washed over him.

Shifting his shoes to his left hand, he raised his right and brushed the back of his scraped knuckles over Abby’s chin. “We aren’t saying goodbye permanently. Lord knows I need to talk to someone about what’s happening with the girls. Preferably someone who understands what I’m dealing with.” Worry clouded Ben’s brown eyes as he silently watched his nieces climb into the back seat of his BMW.

“I don’t know if I can be of any help, but I’d like us to talk, Ben. I care about Erin, and I thought she acted…well, odd today. Granted, the twins en masse can be overwhelming.”

“She got off on the wrong foot with the dog. The girls have a cat who rules the roost at home. So…I know they like animals.” He sighed wearily. “We’ve…uh…gotta go. I need to feed us, check Erin’s math and supervise baths before getting the girls off to bed.” As he spoke he stepped barefoot into the wet loafers.

“You’re doing all that, Ben? I thought your father said you’d found a woman to look after the girls and take care of the house.”

At the mention of his father, Ben’s slight frown became a scowl. “Mrs. Clark only works from eight to five. I assure you, if my dad gave a damn, he’d help a little. Who knows better than him that doctors don’t keep regular hours?” Just then Erin leaned out of the car and called plaintively to Ben. He blew out the breath he’d sucked in, tossed Abby a last so long, and trudged down the steps in his soaking shoes.

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