Terry Essig - The Baby Magnet

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

Marie slapped her thigh with her hand. She knew it. She just knew it. It was obviously a male thing. Some defect in the Y chromosome. She’d been right all along in her decision to have nothing further to do with the male half of the human race, relatives unfortunately excluded.

“You pwitty.”

Marie’s internal diatribe disturbed, she looked down. Little Carolyn had edged her way over and now stood right in front of her. Marie smiled. “Not half as pretty as you, sweetie.”

Carolyn turned to Luke for confirmation. “Her pwitty.”

Luke studied Marie for a disconcertingly long time before responding. “Yes, honey, she is. Very pretty.”

Marie couldn’t control her blush.

Carolyn caught Marie by the pant leg and didn’t appear inclined to let go. “Her have a hot dog too, Daddy?”

Luke smiled, a bit evilly in Marie’s opinion. “Absolutely. All we have to do is convince her to stay. Why don’t you ask her? I bet Auntie Marie couldn’t turn down a sugarplum like you.”

“Oh, all right,” Marie said, giving in. “I’ll stay. Just for a while. But I want the tuna fish on whole wheat.” And her capitulation had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to spend more time with Luke. Absolutely nothing.

For a large man, Luke could move. He jumped from his chair, startling Marie. It was almost as though he didn’t want to give her time to change her mind. But that made no sense. He’d never made any pretense of liking her.

Then he said, “Tuna on wheat. Got it. Everybody out to the kitchen. Hup, two, three, four.”

Carolyn reached up and took Marie’s hand as they dutifully followed the leader. “Now,” Luke inquired scant minutes later as he waved the tin of fish in the air. “What do you want in the tuna? Pickle relish? Onions? Celery seed?” He’d found the appropriate can in the cabinet, the electric opener was at hand and raring to go. He even attempted a smile and Marie found those particular muscles hadn’t totally atrophied since yesterday afternoon after all. They still worked.

“Celery, the real kind not just its seeds, a small amount of onion—” not that she was going to be kissing anybody except maybe Carolyn “—and mayo, thank you,” Marie replied primly. Celery seed? Yuck. “And I want my bread toasted, please.”

Luke waved two slices of whole wheat across the room in the general direction of the counter with the toaster before handing the bread to her. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she muttered dryly and wondered why Mr. Gracious had bothered to invite her at all. He never had been Mr. Hospitality. Ah, well, she was used to taking care of herself—and anybody else who came along. She could handle it.

Luke had heard the unspoken criticism in her tone but he didn’t bother to acknowledge it. None of his present circumstances were any of his doing. None. And he was not feeling the least bit gracious. “Milk, pop, juice in the fridge. The cups are in the cabinet over the dishwasher.”

Marie sighed as she dropped the bread into the toaster slots and pushed the lever down before going in search of the glasses. “Don’t have many guests, eh, Mr. Deforest? Your manners appear to be a tad rusty.”

“Ms. Ferguson, you did not pick a happy time to have your uncle ram my car. I’m feeling just a little bit persecuted myself right now and quite frankly, am not up to doing the congenial host bit. Now, Carolyn appears to have taken a shine to you and it would be a whole lot easier on me if she was happy sooner rather than later. The way I see it, you owe me. I didn’t break your uncle’s neck the way I wanted to, after all. And the payback I’d like most of all would be for you to get us on the road to happy familyhood around here. Do that and I will personally buy you the most expensive dinner at the swankiest place in town.”

Marie all but snorted. The accident had not been her fault, either. Let Jason teach Luke about the joys of family life. She herself knew only what she’d read about conventional happy families. Marie hadn’t seen her father since she was five when he’d had a doozy of a midlife crisis and taken off to “find himself.” As far as Marie knew, her father was still someplace out there hot on his own trail. Her mom had taken to drinking to fill the void. She’d ended up pickling her own internal organs and had died of cirrhosis of the liver.

Marie had been raised by her grandfather and stepgrandmother Pearl from the time she’d been eight. Jason had come along a year later. Pearl was much younger than her grandfather but still old for a first-time mother. She’d concentrated so hard on acquiring newborn parenting skills that she’d given Marie enough room to run a bit wild. Still, Marie gave Pearl credit. She hadn’t treated Marie like Cinderella. Not at all. In fact, Pearl had been a sweetheart who’d tried hard to never take undue advantage of her non-traditionally structured family’s built in baby-sitter. Then, two years ago, Pearl had died. Breast cancer hadn’t been detected until it was too late. Sometimes it seemed to Marie that she’d spent her entire life dealing with desertion and or death.

Her grandfather had always been there for her, bless his cantankerous, irreverent heart. He was a rock, but even rocks eventually wore down. Grandpa still struggled to do his best, but he was seventy-five now and no longer spry. It was taking his bones forever to knit themselves back together after this last fall. Marie would cut out her tongue before admitting it to anyone, but sometimes she was so scared. What if her grandfather never got his strength back? Who would she have then to help her deal with Jason? No one. It was a scary thought.

Marie refused to allow herself to dwell on the possibility. She’d made a conscientious decision to simply take each day as it came. The tables were now turned. It was payback time. Grandpa needed her care and her help raising his son. Marie wasn’t like her mother or father. Admittedly there had been a few years when Marie had been momentarily, uh, dazzled by life on the edge, but basically she believed in responsibility. She could delay finding herself for a few more years. Provided she lived through this current period with her mental faculties still intact.

Marie’s expression softened as she watched Carolyn carefully dunk diced hot dog chunks into the blob of ketchup Luke had dabbed onto her plate. Now this little sweetie was a piece of cake compared to Jason. The adolescent mind was a foreign land with few landmarks recognizable to anyone outside of the ages fourteen through about twenty. You did what you could to get them through this period alive. Psychological damage didn’t matter. So long as they were still breathing by the time they hit twenty or so, which was a definite challenge in and of itself, they could go see a shrink to undo any emotional damage you’d done in an effort to ensure mere physical survival of the species.

Of course by then, you were in major need of a shrink yourself.

Marie smiled fondly down. Yes indeed, this little munch-kin would be easy. All she really needed to flourish for the next ten or twelve years until she hit the dreaded fourteen was lots of hugs and kisses, large and small muscle activities, and plenty of sleep and food. Marie had no doubt that with that combination little Carolyn would grow and flourish just like a weed.

Luke became almost affable during lunch and to Marie’s surprise, he had some decent knock-knock jokes he shared with Carolyn, who didn’t get them at all. Marie, however, found herself chuckling a time or two. It was interesting to watch the tension leak out of him as the meal progressed. What did he have to be so stressed about? And why did he keep looking at Marie with those narrowed, considering eyes?