Joan Pickart – Single With Twins (страница 8)

Talking to Susie had helped her to sort through some of her jumbled thoughts. It had been months, even years, since she’d scrutinized how well she was providing for the girls. Melissa and Emma were happy, well-adjusted children, who never questioned their lifestyle, who believed in hopes and wishes, who put pennies in a piggy toward their ultimate dream of living in their very own house.

Her daughters had an extended family made up of the kind and loving people on this block. Melissa and Emma knew they were welcome in those homes, cared about, could go to any neighbor and get a hug, a Band-Aid or a drink of water if they needed it.

And now? In waltzes a real family member. The famous, rich-beyond-measure Mack Marshall, and his emergence into their lives was terrifying. Mack didn’t wear used clothing, nor live in a tiny little house. Mack didn’t have to pinch pennies, nor save them in a piggy. Mack could have anything he wanted just by writing a check or pulling out his wallet or producing a credit card.

If we’re all part of the same family, Mommy, why does Uncle Mack have so much and we have nothing? That’s not fair, Mommy, it’s not. How come we don’t have a bunch of stuff, Mommy—

“Stop,” Heather whispered to the voices in her head, pressing her fingertips to her now-throbbing temples.

Susie was right. Mack was on their turf, would sit in the living room of their home. Her twins, who couldn’t help but make comparisons, wouldn’t see what Mack had to be able to question what they didn’t possess.

Right?

Oh, dear heaven, she hoped so. It would break her heart if her children became unhappy, began to yearn for what never could be, saw their life and, thus, themselves, as being less than what they should be.

“Mack Marshall, go home,” Heather said out loud, getting to her feet. “Just go home and leave us alone.”

Oh, that was awful. Mack wanted, needed, to be part of a family, even for a short while as he recuperated from being shot. Shot, for mercy’s sake. What kind of a human being was she to be wishing he’d never shown up to stake a claim on his rightful place in their family unit? Tacky. Very tacky.

So, okay, she’d get through this. Mack didn’t intend to stay in Tucson very long, only a couple of weeks. She’d just treat him like a…a…what? Brother?

Heather looked at her right hand and remembered the incredible heat that had traveled up her arm and across her breasts when Mack held that hand in his strong but gentle one.

Brother was not going to work.

So, okay, they were…simply members of the same family…sort of. They were half ex-whatever-they-were people who…

Oh, who was she kidding? Mack was the most blatantly sensuous man she had ever met in her entire life. And she was a woman, a fact she’d rather forgotten, or taken for granted, until Mack Marshall had made her so acutely aware of her own femininity.

This, Heather thought, pointing one finger in the air, was not good. The mere thought of Mack caused her heart to do a funny little two-step and that disturbing heat to travel throughout her entire body.

Mack Marshall was…was—oh, hey, she had it now—he was Melissa’s and Emma’s uncle. There. That title was perfect. It meant thinking of him in terms of the girls rather than thinking about the disconcerting effect he had on her as a man.

“Uncle Mack is here,” Melissa yelled from the front door.

And so are the butterflies, Heather thought in self-disgust as she placed one hand on her stomach and made her way to the living room.

“He’s coming up the walk,” Melissa announced, then began to jump up and down. “And he’s got presents. He’s got presents with him, Mom.”

Heather narrowed her eyes and quickened her step to get to the door.

“Hi, Uncle Mack,” Melissa said after opening the front door. “Do you like my new shirt? It’s Garfield. See? I just got it today, and we washed it and stuff so I could wear it to go out for pizza, and Emma got a new dress, and we washed that too and Mom had to iron it ’cause it was all wrinkly, but she didn’t have to iron my Garfield. Aren’t you going to come into the house?”

“He can’t because you’re standing in his way, sweetheart,” Heather said.

“Oh,” Melissa said, stepping back.

Mack entered the living room just as Emma came running to join the group.

“Hi, Uncle Mack,” Emma said, stopping in front of him. “Oh, you’ve got presents. Is it your birthday? Are you going to open your birthday presents so we can see what you got?”

“No,” Mack said, smiling. “It’s not my birthday. These gifts are for you, and your sister, and your mother.”

Emma frowned. “It’s not our birthdays.”

“We’re celebrating that fact that it’s Friday,” Mack said.

“Why?” Emma asked.

“Why?” Mack repeated. “Well, because that means there’s no school for the next two days, which leaves you free to play, and that is something to celebrate.”

“It is?” Emma said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Uncle Mack just made it up for fun,” Heather said, looking at Mack intently. “You girls like school as much as you do playing on the weekend. Right?”

“I guess,” Melissa said, shrugging.

“Right, Mack?” Heather said, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh. Right. Sure. You bet,” he said, nodding. “I was just kidding. These gifts I brought are simply because I’m very glad to see all of you.” He handed one of the presents to Emma, another to Melissa, then extended a brightly wrapped gift toward Heather. “This one is for you, Heather.”

“Mack,” Heather said, accepting the package, “I really wish you hadn’t…”

“Can I open it, Mommy?” Melissa said, jumping up and down again. “Can I? Please?”

“May I,” Heather said absently, then sighed. “Yes, of course, go ahead and open your surprises.”

The girls sat on the floor and tore away the pretty paper.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Melissa said, popping up to her feet again. “It’s a new baseball mitt. Look at this, Mommy. It’s a brand-new baseball mitt.” She flung her arms around Mack and gave him a big hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can I go show Buzzy my new mitt, Mom?”

“No, honey,” Heather said quietly, “there isn’t time now. We’re going out for pizza, remember? You can show it to Buzzy in the morning.”

“’Kay.” Melissa pressed the mitt to her nose. “It smells so good. Oh, this is the bestest present I ever got in my whole life.”

“Oh-h-h,” Emma said after she’d unwrapped her gift. “A Barbie doll. A real Barbie doll.” She held it tightly, then got to her feet and hugged Mack. “Thank you, Uncle Mack. My Barbie doll is so beautiful. She’s the most beautiful doll I’ve ever had since I was borned.”

Mack chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you both like what I picked out for you. That makes me feel great, it really does.” He looked at Heather. “Aren’t you going to open your present?”

No, Heather thought, she wasn’t going to open her gift, she was going to run to her bedroom and cry for a week. Her worst nightmare was already happening. Her daughters had just declared the expensive gifts from Mack to be the very best presents they had ever received. A brand-new baseball mitt that smelled like the genuine leather that it was and a gorgeous Barbie doll. Brand-new…not used by someone else before the twins.

“Mommy?” Melissa said. “Aren’t you going to open your present?”

“What?” she said. “Oh, yes, of course, I am.” Heather sat on the sofa and a few moments later lifted a delicate crystal vase from the tissue paper inside the box. “Oh, my goodness. It’s…it’s lovely. I’ve never had anything so…” She cleared her throat. “Thank you very much, Mack.”

“Cool,” Melissa said. “Now you won’t have to put flowers in the pickle jar.”

“That’s the plan,” Mack said.

So much for Mack not noticing the dumb pickle jar, Heather thought miserably. And she had gushed over her gift just as much as the girls had…and she’d meant it. The vase was exquisite. And it probably cost more than she spent on a week’s worth of groceries.

“Get your sweaters, girls,” Heather said, placing the vase on the coffee table. “It will be chilly once the sun goes down.”

“Can I take my mitt with me to the pizza parlor?” Melissa said.

“Can I take my Barbie doll?” Emma said.

“Sure,” Heather said wearily as she got to her feet. “Why not? Run and get your sweaters.”

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