Chapter Seven
It was the last day of February, and more than two weeks had passed since Miranda had last seen Luke. He’d said he had a good time and suggested they do it again. But he hadn’t called.
True, Ariana had thrown a TTT when Miranda had told her she had to leave the sandcastle, which by then had been inhabited by a colony of fairies. But her daughter’s tantrums hadn’t discouraged Luke before, so what was the problem?
How ridiculous, Miranda thought as she restocked the shelves at Blowing Bubbles that Tuesday afternoon. Why was she obsessing over this? She, who had no interest in dating, much less in dating Luke, who wasn’t her type. Although she had to admit that she’d spent far too much time gazing at pictures on the screen of her phone, especially one close-up with great lighting on his handsome face.
“I thought we were becoming friends,” she murmured under her breath. “He said that. He wanted it.” And he’d got her starting to believe it, he’d made her enjoy his company and feel close to him, and then he hadn’t called.
Pissed off at herself, she gently put her armful of stuffed Bambis and orcas on the shelf, and gave herself a whack upside the head. “What century is this?” She was a feminist. She’d spent her life trying to be strong and independent. And now she was fluttering about all helpless and sad because some freaking guy hadn’t phoned her. “Ridiculous! Pick up the damned phone!”
“Pardon?” her boss Kara called from behind the counter.
“Sorry. Talking to myself.”
Miranda got back to restocking, and at the end of the work day drove herself and Ariana home to the cozy log cabin at SkySong and made them a chicken and veggie stir-fry. Then, when the dishes were done and Ariana was settled with a couple of favorite toys, Miranda picked up her phone and dialed Luke’s number.
After the usual “hey, how are you” exchange, she said, “Thanks again for sundaes on Sunday, and sharing your beach. I wonder if I could return the favor and have you and the boys over for a pizza-building dinner one night.”
He didn’t respond, and she said breezily, “But if you’d rather not, I totally—”
He stopped her by saying, “It sounds good. Really. Thank you.”
She refused to second-guess whether he meant it, or to ponder the little thrill that coursed through her. “Oh good. Great. What night works for you?”
“How about tomorrow? The boys and I were going to Mom and Forbes’s place, but she’s got a bad cold so that’s off. And I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Tomorrow’s good.” Really good, because she wasn’t working. She’d have plenty of time to clean and tidy, shop for ingredients, prepare pizza dough, and still do some coursework.
As she put down the phone, she pondered the fact that he’d chosen tomorrow. It suggested he was telling the truth about wanting to get together. Which was a good thing. Right?
* * *
This was the first time Miranda’d had anyone other than her brother, Eden, or Eden’s relatives over to the one-bedroom cabin. Despite the fact that the entire place would almost fit into Luke’s living room, and that she didn’t own it or even pay rent, Miranda felt proud of her small home as she opened the door to greet Luke and his sons.
The boys roared inside, shedding raindrops, and Luke followed. “Nice place,” he commented, handing her a paper bag and then grabbing his sons long enough to pull off their rain jackets, which he hung on the coat hooks by the door.
She glanced in the bag, to see a bottle of wine. “Thanks for this. And yes, we like the cabin.” Except for Aaron’s house, it was the nicest place she and her daughter had ever lived. The décor was rustic, and Di’s deft, eclectic touch made it something distinctive. Most of the artwork, which featured ceramics, carvings, paintings, photographs, and weavings, had been created by island artists and artisans. And acquired through the island’s barter system, with no money changing hands.
After hanging up his own jacket and flicking raindrops from his hair, Luke walked over to the coffee table, which was made of different kinds of wood put together in an attractive patchwork. “Hey, boys, look at this. It’s one of Grandpa Forbes’s pieces.”
“Your stepdad made this?” she said to him. “It’s lovely.”
Luke had brought wine, which she appreciated, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her when he came in, not even a peck on the cheek. That shouldn’t irk her, but for some reason it did.
Ariana, who’d been playing in the bedroom, must have heard the voices because she came running out. She looked adorable in the long-sleeved tie-dyed tee Di and Seal had given her for Christmas. The front sported a peace sign and the back said, “Give peace a chance.” Seal had said in a droll tone, “Get ’em when they’re young.”
The little girl came to a halt, casting a dubious look at Brandon and Caleb, who were exploring the living room. Then she ran over to Luke, raising her arms. “Luke! Up!”
Laughing, he obliged, hoisting her up so they were face-to-face. “Hey there, pretty girl. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He glanced over at Miranda.
If he was wondering whether she knew what she wanted, she’d have to say she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. She’d thought it was only friendship, but there was something about seeing Luke today . . . He looked so tall and masculine in jeans and a black, soft-weave Henley that showcased his well-developed musculature. Maybe it was the black, making him look a bit more bad-boy than wholesome. But then again, she could hardly call him bad-boy when he was cuddling her child, who fit so comfortably and happily in his arms.
Whatever it was about him, she had to admit to a tug of attraction. Not mindless lust like she’d felt with Ariana’s father or Chef Emile, but attraction. Partly physical but partly something else she couldn’t identify.
There was no time to ponder all this, because the twins were messing with the screen in front of the natural gas fireplace. “Luke,” she said, gesturing in their direction. “The glass window of the fireplace gets really hot. Ariana can’t move that attached safety screen, but the boys might be able to.”
“Kids,” Luke said, “stop it. You could get hurt.”
“We’ll be careful,” Brandon said, the words coming automatically, as if they’d been said many times before. He didn’t stop playing with the screen. Caleb at least stopped tugging on it, to turn and look at his dad.
“If you break it,” Luke said with a firmer, warning tone, “you have to pay for it. Out of your allowance.”
Luke gave four-year-olds an allowance? Apparently so, because the threat proved effective. Both kids abandoned the fireplace and Brandon said, “Where’s the pizza?”
“It’s not ready yet,” she told him and his brother, “because we’re going to make our own. Like we did with those ice cream sundaes.”
“Cool,” Caleb said.
She started toward the kitchen, the boys racing past her, and Luke following her with Ariana in his arms.
Miranda had moved the chairs away from the four-top table to give easy access. On the table sat platters of toppings and a large pizza pan filled with oil-brushed dough. “Everyone like tomato sauce?” she asked.
“Yes!” Brandon yelled, and Caleb agreed.
Ariana added her decisive “Yes” as Luke pulled up the chair with the booster cushion and settled her at one end of the table where she could watch the proceedings.
Miranda spread the lightly chunky, aromatic sauce. “It’s Di’s, made with SkySong tomatoes. The best I’ve ever tasted.”
When the pizza had a layer of sauce, she marked off a slice that was one-sixth of the total and put some mushrooms and cheese on it. “This slice is for Ariana. Boys, you get the rest of this pizza. Put what you want on it. There’s salami, pepperoni, mozzarella, Parmesan, onions, mushrooms, green pepper, and olives.”
“Cool,” Caleb said again.
“Boys, wash your hands first,” Luke said.
They obeyed, doing a sketchy wash at the sink, and then began to toss slices of salami onto the crust.
“That one’s for us?” Luke asked, gesturing toward the other pizza pan, the one she’d borrowed from Di, which sat on the kitchen counter with another round of dough in it.
“Yes. Go ahead, add whatever toppings you want. I’m good with all of it.” Eyeing his enthusiastic twins, she said, “If you want any salami or pepperoni, you’d better grab it before your sons take it all.”
He did exactly that, saying to her, “Can you spread tomato sauce on the crust?”
She obliged, and he distributed the sliced meat, then together they spread vegetables. Standing this close to him, their fingers occasionally brushing as they topped the pizza, she felt warmer than the heat of the oven justified. He really was very masculine, in his laid-back way. Rather than having the powerful immediate reaction she’d felt with Sebastian or Emile, Luke’s impact snuck up on her in a disconcerting manner.
She was glad when Brandon loudly announced, “We’re done. Let’s cook it,” and she and Luke stepped away from each other.
“I don’t see any veggies on that pizza,” he said, eyeing the sloppy pile of sausage and cheese. He evened out the toppings, cleared extras from Ariana’s slice, and added a handful of sliced mushrooms and another of green pepper to the boys’ five-sixths, ignoring their protest that he was ruining it.
“They used to eat vegetables,” he told Miranda. “But then some kids at daycare said veggies were icky.”
“Icky!” Brandon affirmed.
“What? Those kids sound pretty stupid,” she said, speaking to Luke as she slid the children’s pizza into the oven. “I thought Brandon and Caleb were smarter than that.” She set the timer for ten minutes.
He shot her an amused grin. “One can only hope.”
“We’re smart,” came Caleb’s quiet little voice.
Miranda went over to where he stood by the table, and bent down to meet his gaze. “You see? I thought you were. Do me a favor and don’t listen to what the stupid kids say.”
Caleb frowned slightly and Miranda went on. “Your daddy’s smart, right? He went to university for years and years, and he’s an animal doctor. Everyone on the island who has an animal depends on him.”
The boy was nodding vigorously, and Brandon said, “Daddy’s smarter than anyone!” Then he qualified it with, “Except maybe Granny Annie.”
“You got that right,” Luke said dryly.
“There you go,” Miranda said. “That’s what I thought. So when other kids say something you’re not sure about, you ask your daddy and he’ll tell you if they’re right. Because he knows ev-rything.” She exaggerated her pronunciation and tossed a saucy grin in Luke’s direction.
“A fact that all of you should remember,” he joked back.
“Luke?” Ariana said, looking puzzled and not too happy.
Luke said, “Miranda, why don’t you toss the rest of these toppings on our pizza?” He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her daughter. “Hey, I like that T-shirt. That’s very cool.”
“Cool!” she repeated. “Is peace.”
“Peace is a very good thing,” he said, no doubt realizing she was too young to understand the concept.
Finished preparing the pizza, Miranda took plates from the cupboard. “Caleb, Brandon, would you please put these on the table?” She didn’t worry because the brightly colored dishes were virtually indestructible. “Then pull up chairs and sit down.”
To Luke, she said, “Milk or apple juice for the boys? And I take it you’re good with wine?”
“Milk for the twins, please. And yeah, a glass of red wine sounds good. But I’ll only have one. Driving, you know.”
“That means more left over for me,” she said as she poured milk. She never had more than one drink. No way was she going to turn into her mom. But she looked forward to enjoying the rest of the bottle over the next two or three evenings.
The timer dinged and she removed the kids’ pizza. After sliding the adult one into the oven, she brought the cooked pizza to the table and gave it pride of place in the center. “Well done, guys. It looks terrific. Be careful, it’s hot.” She sliced the pie and put pieces on each of the boys’ plates and then put on Ariana’s bib. After blowing on the non-sausage slice to cool it, she gave it to her daughter along with some strips of raw green pepper.
With the children now all happily eating, she uncorked the bottle of Destiny Cellars Shiraz Luke had brought, and poured two glasses. Giving him one, she leaned back against the counter and said, “So, how’ve you been over the past week or so?” It wasn’t exactly a “why didn’t you call me?” but she hoped he’d offer an explanation.
He shrugged. “Oh, you know, busy. Lambing season’s starting so I’m doing pre-lambing vaccinations and checking the ewes’ health.”
That was probably true, but the way he shifted position and gazed at the kids rather than looking at her made her think there was more than a busy workload behind his failure to call. But she wouldn’t probe. It wasn’t like he was her boyfriend. He was a casual friend and he’d chosen to be here tonight.
“How about you?” he asked. His tone relaxed and a mischievous sparkle lit his eyes when he said, “Any more returns from Mrs. Abercrombie?”
“No, thank heavens. That woman’s a real challenge to the ‘customer is always right’ philosophy. She—”
Two things interrupted her: the ding of the timer and a knock at her door.
“Could you check the pizza?” she asked Luke as she headed for the door, squaring her shoulders. No one dropped by except Aaron and members of Eden’s family. Normally, she enjoyed those visits, but why tonight?
She checked the peephole, groaned, and opened the door to her brother.
Aaron rested a hand on the doorframe, leaning through the opening, dripping on the floor. “Eden and I came to have dinner with her parents and Kelsey, and I saw Luke Chandler’s vet SUV outside.”
If only she could move the calendar forward two weeks. By then Eden’s parents and sister would have moved out of the cabin three doors along. They’d be in the house they’d bought, only a few miles down the road from SkySong.
“What’s going on?” her brother asked. “Did you and Ariana get a pet?”
“No, Aaron.” She was trying to figure out what to say when Luke called, “It’s done. Want me to slice it?”
She sighed, and called, “Sure, I’ll be there in a sec.” To Aaron, she said, “We’re having pizza.”
“Oh yeah?” Without being invited, he came through the door, nudging her aside.
“Do come in,” she said sarcastically as he hung up his jacket and headed for the kitchen. She heard, “Hey, Luke,” and “Hey, Aaron,” and hurried after her annoying, overprotective brother.
Luke, who’d turned from the table, was standing facing Aaron, who’d stopped just inside the kitchen door. The two men were roughly the same size and build, both strong and fit, and dressed similarly. Luke’s chestnut hair and winter-pale skin contrasted with the near-black hair and brownish skin that were legacies of Aaron’s indigenous heritage on his father’s side.
It was almost as if the two guys were squaring off, staring at each other and waiting to see who’d speak next.
It turned out to be Ariana, who cried, “Unc Aaron!” An excited smile beamed on her sauce-smeared little face.
He stared at Luke a moment longer before his posture relaxed and he turned to his niece, grinning. “Hey, Fairy-ana. I see you’ve been eating pizza.”
“Pee-za!” she said.
Aaron dropped a kiss on top of her head, swiped a finger down her cheek, and then popped his finger in his mouth. “Mmm. Good pizza.”
“Pee-za with Luke.” She glanced across the table at Brandon and Caleb, who were ignoring everything but their dinner. Pouty-faced, she added, “And boys.”
“So I see,” Aaron said. He turned to Miranda, putting his back to Luke and the kids. “I didn’t know you knew Luke.”
“Well, I do.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“How long has this been going on?” he demanded. “And why didn’t you tell me?”
She gazed pointedly in the direction of the three children, and beckoned him into the living room, aware that Luke was following. Ignoring him, she glared at her brother. “I don’t know what you think this is, but if you’re asking how long Luke and I have been friends, I guess it’s a few weeks now. As for telling you, I didn’t know I was required to report all my friendships to you.”
Luke made a sound but she didn’t look at him to see if he was sighing or stifling a laugh. Instead, she kept her challenging gaze fixed on her brother’s face.
Aaron turned to Luke. “Friends? Miranda doesn’t have friendships with men.”
“Aaron!” she said angrily.
“It’s true.” He said it without glancing at her. To Luke, he went on. “My sister’s trying to get an education while she’s holding down a job and raising a two-year-old. She’s got enough on her plate. Romance is the last thing she needs right now.”
“Aaron!” She grabbed his arm. “This is none of your business.”
Luke spoke, his voice calmer than either hers or Aaron’s. “I know you care about your sister, but she’s a grown woman. Seems to me, she’s quite capable of deciding what she needs.”
“Thank you for that.” The way he kept his cool and defended her was pretty sexy.
“You don’t know her,” her brother said. “Not if you say that.”
“Ooh!” She tightened her grip, wishing she had long nails to stab through Aaron’s shirt and into his flesh. “Luke’s my guest and my friend. Stop being rude to him and to me.”
He turned to her, grasping her hand and prying it from his arm. “When I started dating Eden, you were damned rude to her. You kept telling her how awful Destiny Island was, trying to get her to dump me and stay in Ottawa.”
Of course he’d bring that up. She screwed up her mouth. “Yeah, okay,” she admitted. “But I was a pathetic bitch.”
Luke snorted and a grin split Aaron’s face. “Your words, little sister. And yeah, you were.”
“Okay, fine. So take the high road and be better than that, big brother. And butt out of my life.”
His grin faded. “You know I’ll never do that. Just like you’ll never butt out of mine.”
It was true. The way they’d grown up, it had felt like the two of them against the world. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, feeling his bigger, stronger arms close around her shoulders. “You know I didn’t mean that,” she said.
She gave him a squeeze and then stepped away. “But please, Aaron, dial it back. You’ve known Luke since we were teens. You know he’s a good guy.”
His brow knitted. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, he is.” He glanced at Luke and then back to her. “A good guy. A stable, responsible guy. So maybe I do believe you, that you’re just friends. Or maybe you really have grown up.” He walked over to the door and shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll leave you to your pizza.”
“Night, Aaron,” Luke said calmly, as if the whole embarrassing incident hadn’t happened.
When the door closed behind Aaron, she said, “Sorry about the interruption. Let’s go eat that pizza before it’s stone cold. And see if the kids have managed to destroy the kitchen yet.”
* * *
Luke had to smile at the rueful expression on Miranda’s face as she sat down across from him at the freshly wiped kitchen table, saying, “This isn’t how I’d wanted things to go.”
“Hey, we have hot pizza, red wine, and happily occupied kids.” Not to mention, he was sitting across from a beautiful woman, feeling an attraction he’d never expected to feel again in his life. It was his birthday and, no offense to his mom or Forbes—he certainly wasn’t happy that his poor mother had a cold—but this beat having the usual birthday dinner at their place. When Miranda had invited him, he’d thought twice about accepting, wondering if it was safer to stay away from her. He’d decided that wasn’t fair to her, or to him, and now he was glad.
In the twenty minutes since Aaron had left, he and Miranda had cleaned up their respective children as well as the kitchen, got the kids settled in front of the TV watching Ratatouille on DVD, and reheated the pizza. He figured that was twenty well-spent minutes, because now he was alone with Miranda and they could relax and have an adult conversation.
He had a bite of pizza and said, “Di’s tomato sauce really is amazing.”
“I know, right? She said that if I’m on the island this summer, she’ll teach me how to make it.” The enthusiasm faded from her face. “Not that there’s much point, I guess. She says the secret’s in using fresh-picked organic tomatoes, and I won’t be doing any tomato-picking when I move back to Vancouver.”
“You still plan to move back?”
“That’s the whole point of getting the early childhood education certificate. So I can get a decent job in Vancouver.”
“You might be able to get a job at the daycare or preschool here. Hey,” he added with a wink, “if you worked at Sunny Days you’d have the joy of looking after Brandon and Caleb.”
She gave him a smile, but said, “I’m a Vancouver girl.”
No, she wasn’t. Why couldn’t she see that she was turning into an island girl? He was tempted to launch into another sales pitch for Destiny, but figured she wouldn’t welcome having another male try to tell her what to do. So, instead of speaking, he had a sip of wine.
Miranda put second slices of pizza on both their plates. “Earlier, when the boys were messing with the fireplace screen, you mentioned their allowance. Do you really give them an allowance?”
“Uh-huh. And they have piggy banks.”
“What age did you start? I think Ariana’s too young to understand.”
He nodded. “I started when they turned four and I made it one of those ‘now that you’re a big boy’ things. They still don’t fully understand what money’s all about, but I figure they’ll grasp it more quickly when they’re dealing with actual quarters and loonies. My mom and dad started early with me, and so did Candace’s parents. We’re all about learning responsibility in this family.”
“Yeah, that’s important. I mean, being able to manage your own life.”
“Something Aaron doesn’t seem to give you credit for.”
She chuckled ruefully. “Yeah. He’s very big brothery. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to pieces and it means everything to know he’s there for me. But he can be a know-it-all, telling me how to run my life.” She sighed. “The toughest thing for me is that, though I do believe strongly in responsibility and independence, there’ve been times I’ve had to turn to Aaron for help. Like when I came back to the island last summer.”
“That’s what family’s about. I mean, yeah, try to be responsible, but know there’s someone to lean on when you need to.”
“But it’s always gone one way. Me leaning on him.”
She’d said things like that before, and they didn’t fit his view of her, so he said so. “You’ve never come across as a leaner to me. Not now, and not back when you attended Blue Moon High.”
“I worked hard on that tough-girl image,” she said with a rueful smile. “I’d have hated it if anyone saw me as vulnerable.” She rubbed her left forearm where, beneath her long-sleeved gray sweater, she had the dragon tattoo. As far as he’d seen, it was the only remaining outward symbol of her tough teen image. With a sigh, she went on. “But the truth was, I did depend on Aaron. That was rough on my pride.”
Why couldn’t she see that, within family, even among close friends, concepts like dependency and charity shouldn’t exist? “You did things for him, too, I bet.”
She gave a dismissive shrug. “Tiny, inconsequential stuff.”
“Such as?”
A memory reflected on her face, but she blinked as if closing the door on it. Her eyes narrowed and then mischief brightened their blue tones and twitched her lips. “Well . . .”
He leaned forward, loving that sparkle, and curious. “Go on.”
“There was the rat. Not a cute rat like Ratatouille, but a nasty dead rat. Aaron took this girl out—this was back in Vancouver—but he didn’t have money for a fancy date so he took her to Mickey D’s and she told her friends that he was a cheapskate. The bitch. So I snuck the rat into her school backpack. On Friday afternoon. She wasn’t exactly big on doing homework and it took her a couple days to find it.”
“Oh, man.” He snorted out a laugh.
She wrinkled her nose. “It was childish, but I was twelve. Aaron couldn’t stop laughing. He thanked me for having his back.” Miranda was so beautiful, her expression caught halfway between impishness and affection.
He wanted to reach over and hold her hand, but feared she wasn’t ready for that. Besides, if he was going to get any more involved, he needed to know that his instincts about her were right. As his mom and Annie had said, he could only be with Miranda if he could trust her. “You’ll always have his back, right?”
“For all the good it’ll do him.”
“Where on earth did you find a dead rat?”
Her jaw tightened. “We didn’t exactly live in a fancy neighborhood.”
Her eyes had turned steely gray, warning him against crossing the invisible line that, for whatever reason, was so important to her. So instead he made a point that she seemed to have missed entirely. “You keep suggesting that he does all the giving in your relationship. But you gave him a niece. Seems to me he adores Ariana.”
The blue resurfaced in her eyes and her grim jaw softened. “Yeah, he does. Totally.”
“He calls her Fairy-ana because she’s so crazy about fairies?”
“Yes. It’s his special nickname, though Eden’s picked it up as well.”
When the twins had been born and he’d realized he’d be raising them alone, he’d been glad they were both boys. He and Candace had known from the ultrasounds that they would be, which wasn’t a surprise because on his dad’s side it had been boys for generations. His wife had said that if after the first three children she’d yet to produce a girl, then they were going to adopt one. He’d agreed, because how could he deny her something like that? But now he was beginning to get it, the appeal of having a sweet-smelling child who built castles for fairies.
“There’s something else I’ve done,” Miranda said slowly. “For me, but kind of also for Aaron. I listened to his advice. I admitted that he was right about what I needed to do to be a better mom.”
Luke smiled ruefully. “When you have kids, pride has to take a back seat. You can’t do it alone. You have to admit you need help, for your kids’ sake.”
She sighed. “It took me way too long to realize that. I thought I was doing okay, looking after Ariana pretty well. But these past few months, since I accepted Aaron’s help and came to Destiny, even though I miss a lot of things about Vancouver, I have to admit that her life—our lives—are better.”
“Don’t sound so dismal about that. See, it was your destiny to come here.”
Her mouth twisted rather than smiled. “It pisses me off that I couldn’t sort things out all by myself.”
She wasn’t abrasive, the way she’d been as a teen, but the woman did have prickles. Secrets, sensitivities, defensiveness, stubbornness, too much pride . . . and the list could go on. She was so unlike Candace, who’d been such easy company. Pursuing a relationship with Miranda would offer its share of challenges, that was for sure.
He wanted to. He was drawn to her in so many ways. Physically, of course, with a craving that got stronger each time he was with her. Let’s face it, he was a young, healthy guy who used to get a lot of great sex, and for four years he hadn’t even been attracted to a woman. Now that he was, his body urged him to get on with it. Or, rather, to get it on.
The healer in him was drawn to her, too. He saw the fragility that lurked beneath her stubborn pride and he wanted to help her feel strong and confident—so she could accept assistance without feeling it was a sign of weakness.
He also wanted to share with her: to hear her tell his sons that he was smart; to help her calm Ariana’s tantrums; to maybe even tell her more about the sorrows he’d suffered throughout his life. But he couldn’t pursue a relationship with Miranda if it wasn’t in his sons’ best interests. What kind of woman was she, this rosebud, behind all the thorns?
Hoping she wouldn’t shut him down, he ventured a question. “Neither your nor Aaron’s father was ever in the picture?”
“No. Mom, well, she had some issues. She was in love with Aaron’s dad, a First Nations guy, which is where Aaron gets that ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ thing. When she got pregnant, he didn’t stick around. As for my father . . .” Miranda had a slice of pizza in her hand and took a tiny nibble.
Luke kept quiet, hoping she’d open up more than she had before.
She put the slice down and picked up her wineglass. Holding it by the stem, she said, “Mom drank too much.” She put the glass down again. “And she did drugs. She became addicted. Got jobs, lost jobs. And so . . .” Her shoulders rose and she rotated them like she was trying to ease out tension.
“I’m way past thinking I owe her any loyalty” she said. “As a kid, I tried to be loyal. To keep her secrets so that teachers and social workers didn’t find out. I was hanging on to some stupid hope that she’d get it together and provide Aaron and me with real love, with a real home.” She rolled her shoulders again. “Sometimes she was nice to us, but mostly she was too fucked up, using drugs and trying to get the money for drugs. She was a crappy mother. We got taken away from her more than once.”
“I’m sorry.”
“On the day she OD’d in an alley in the Downtown Eastside, all my loyalty died with her.”
And her hope, too, he knew.
Her chin came up and her eyes were gray and stormy. “She was a whore, Luke.”
He couldn’t suppress an involuntary shudder at the harsh word, and the harsh reality.
“A prostitute,” she went on. “A sex trade worker. There’s no pretty way of glossing over it. She had boyfriends, thought she was in love with guys, but she also sold her body to get money to support her habit. To lots of men. So she never knew who my father was.”
“God, Miranda.” His mom had been right about Corinne, and it was even worse than he’d imagined. Now no power on earth could have stopped him from reaching for her hand.
To his surprise, she let him take it. “Yeah,” she said. “No kid should grow up that way. But I had Aaron. I don’t know if I’d even have survived but for him. He’s my half sib, but he’s my true brother and he’s been, well, everything to me.”
Luke knew exactly what she meant. From when he first got to know her, Candace had been everything to him. “Aaron feels the same way,” he said. “That’s why he worries so much about you. Especially with him being the older sibling. He protected you then, and he can’t stop.”
Gently, she freed her hand and picked up her glass again. This time, she did sip wine. Then she got up and walked on silent, slipper-clad feet to the living room.
He wondered if this was her way of ending the conversation, but she was back in a minute, saying, “Ariana’s asleep. The boys are engrossed in the movie.”
She sat down across from him again. “Aaron and I did some bad things. You say you want to be my friend, but you don’t know me. It’s only fair that you should know.” Her mouth twisted. “And if you have any common sense, you’ll say a polite good-bye.”
He sure didn’t feel like walking out of her life, but he had the boys to think about. So he said, “What bad things?”
Her glass went down and her chin came up. “Stole. We shoplifted, picked pockets. Mostly to get enough food to eat. But not always. You know when you said earlier that I’d probably done things for Aaron, too?” At his nod, her lashes flicked down, stayed there for a moment, and then came back up. “I stole a computer.”
“What?” That was way more than pinching snack bars when the cupboards were bare.
“For Aaron. He was in sixth grade and starting to really need one, to keep up with schoolwork. Mom didn’t have one, of course. She couldn’t even keep the power bills paid. He used a computer at the library, but it was only available for short periods of time.” She ducked her head and after a moment looked up again. “Or maybe that’s just an excuse, and it was my pride, me wanting to do something for Aaron for once.”
He nodded his understanding, encouraging her to go on.
“Anyhow, one of the johns that Mom brought to this tiny apartment we lived in at the time, he had a briefcase and I saw a laptop in it. Obviously, I couldn’t steal it when he was at the apartment, or he’d know, but I followed him. He stopped to buy a newspaper from a box on the street, and put his briefcase down. Something in the paper caught his attention and he started to read. He was focused on that, and I slipped up and nicked his briefcase.”
Wow. Luke couldn’t imagine doing anything like that. But nor could he imagine living the way Miranda had as a child.
She swallowed. “He wasn’t nice to Mom. And he didn’t pay her hardly anything. So I told myself he deserved it. It wasn’t fair that an asshole like him would have all this nice stuff and Aaron didn’t even have a computer.”
Nothing about her and her brother’s childhood had been fair. “Did you tell Aaron where you got it?”
She shook her head vigorously. “He knew I’d stolen it and said we couldn’t keep it, but I refused to tell him where I got it. I guess he figured it out from the files on it, but in the end he kept it.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she sighed. “I do feel guilty about that computer. More than about the other, smaller stuff. That was more, like, necessity.”
“Social assistance . . .” he murmured.
“Doesn’t exactly work when the person who cashes the check takes the money straight to her dealer,” she said bitterly.
“No, I guess not.” Part of him wanted to reach for her hand again, yet part of him was appalled. He admitted, “I’m having trouble getting my head around all this. It’s so different from the way I grew up.”
“Lucky you,” she muttered.
“Yes.” He’d never considered his childhood to be particularly lucky. Not with his dad getting cancer and dying, and his mom suffering from depression. Not with acquiring a stepfather who monopolized Luke’s mother’s attention, and getting an unwanted stepbrother. But never had he wanted for food, shelter, school supplies, or even the small luxuries of life. “Yes, I was lucky.”
He studied her, sitting back in her chair as if to maintain distance. The half-finished pizza sat on the table between them, growing cold again. “Miranda, the last times we were together, you let slip a few hints about your past. But when I asked questions, you shut down. Tonight you’re opening up to me. Why now?”
She crossed her arms. “I didn’t like how Aaron interfered.”
“By basically saying that we shouldn’t date, he made you want to do it?” Luke would be happy about that if he wasn’t feeling so confused right now.
“Kind of. But also . . .” She dropped her head, staring down at her plate with a nibbled slice of pizza on it. “This is hard to say without sounding . . .”
“Just say it.”
Her head lifted and she shot him a glance. “You’re not my type, yet tonight I’m feeling kind of, well, attracted to you.”
Yes! He managed to restrain himself from doing a fist pump. The thing he couldn’t control was the swell of hot blood to his groin. But he had to be rational, and so he reflected for a moment.
Though her past shocked him, her honesty in sharing it impressed him. She and Aaron had done their best to cope with horrific circumstances, and Miranda was no longer that person. She knew she had issues and she was working on them. So, though she wasn’t perfect, who was he to judge? The important thing was, he was coming to believe that she was trustworthy.
“Luke?”
He smiled and said, “I’m attracted to you, too. So, what are we going to do about it?”
Her return smile was an uncertain one. “I don’t know. This is new for me. Spending time with a guy and our kids.”
When they’d first met, she had said she wasn’t dating. “You haven’t dated anyone since you had Ariana?”
She snorted. “Oh, I did. Most memorably a chef named Emile. But a couple of other guys as well. Ariana wasn’t part of any of that. There was a great older lady who lived down the hall. Mrs. Sharma. She’s a grandmother, and she looked after Ariana when I went out.” A smile flickered. “Every kid should have a grandma like Mrs. Sharma.”
“You dated guys and didn’t want them to meet your daughter?” That seemed inconceivable to him.
“Yeah. And they didn’t show any particular interest. Which should’ve told me something, right?”
“Seems to me it should have told you everything you needed to know. Sorry if that sounds judgmental, but . . . You’re a mother, Miranda.”
“Gee, I keep forgetting that,” she said sarcastically. Then she sighed. “No, sorry, you’re right. But with Emile, I thought I loved him and so I figured things would work out somehow. And no, don’t say it, I’ve already heard it enough times from Aaron. I was stupid. But with the other guys, it was purely casual. I just wanted, once in a while, to do something young and fun. Like go out dancing.” Or have sex, he guessed, but was glad she didn’t say it. “Is that so bad?”
“No, it’s not. Sometimes I leave the boys with my in-laws or a sitter when Forbes’s band is playing at Quail Ridge Community Hall.” On the rare occasions that Julian was in town and playing with the band, Luke always tried to go. But he wasn’t about to bring up the guy Miranda got all fan-girl over. Not tonight, when she’d admitted to being attracted to Luke. “It’s fun to have a beer with friends, dance to some tunes.”
“Who do you dance with?” Her question came so quickly that he wondered if jealousy was stirring.
“Whoever’s there,” he responded. Seeking a reaction, he said, “One of my favorite partners is Jane Nelson.”
“Oh?” She toyed with her half-eaten slice of pizza. “I don’t think I know her.”
“No? I bet she’s been in Blowing Bubbles, since she and her hubby have grandkids and a couple of great-grands.”
“Mrs. Nelson? The eighty-something-year-old?”
“That’s the one. Though it’s hard prying her away from her husband. He may be in a wheelchair but that doesn’t keep him off the dance floor.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
He nodded. “They’ve been married more than sixty years.” Candace and he used to bet that their marriage would outlast the Nelsons’. Good thing they hadn’t put money on it.
“You’ve got that look.”
“Hmm?”
“That sad, reflective one. You’re thinking about your wife. About how things were supposed to go.”
He shrugged.
“If you ever want to talk more about it . . .” Her eyes were soft now, the gentle grayish-blue of autumn woodsmoke.
“I may take you up on that one day.”
She nodded, not pushing. “Want me to nuke the pizza again? Or should we make popcorn and share it with the boys?”
“Popcorn sounds like a good idea.” But there was a concern he had yet to deal with, he realized. Was she, like her mother, too fond of alcohol and drugs? He thought he knew the answer, but he had to be sure. Rising from the table, he picked up the bottle of wine on the counter. “Want another glass?”
“No, thanks. Since Ariana was born, I have a one-drink limit.” She rose too and began to clear the table. “Not that I ever drank a lot, because I don’t want to turn out like Mom.”
“So, no drugs either?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t be offended.
“God, no,” she said vehemently. “That’s just plain crazy.”
“Agreed,” he said, convinced she meant it. Relieved that his fears had been alleviated, he said, “Where do you keep the popcorn?”
“In that cupboard.” She pointed. “Give me a few minutes to get the leftovers packaged and do the dishes.” Deftly she moved around the kitchen. There was no dishwasher and, since she showed no inclination to leave the dishes soaking in the sink, he wielded a dish towel.
It wasn’t until the room was spick-and-span that she put the popcorn in the microwave.
He wondered what the kitchen had looked like in that tiny apartment where her mother had turned tricks and shot up.
When they took two bowls of popcorn and a roll of paper towels into the living room, Ariana was curled up in a ball at one end of the couch, sound asleep, with a blanket tucked around her. The boys were still awake, sprawled on the floor in front of the TV.
“Popcorn!” Brandon cried happily, barely glancing away from Ratatouille to dip into the bowl Luke put in front of him.
Caleb looked at his father. “Is it a good birthday, Daddy?”
“It is, Caleb.” He tousled his son’s longish locks. “A very good one.”
Miranda had seated herself on the couch beside her sleeping daughter. When he went to sit on Miranda’s other side, she glared at him. “It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah. Twenty-ninth. Only a year until the big three-oh.”
“You accepted my dinner invitation and didn’t tell me it was your birthday?” She sounded outraged, but he wasn’t sure why.
“The boys and I were supposed to go to Mom and Forbes’s, like every year. But he called yesterday to say she had a nasty cold and wasn’t up to it. So I was feeling sorry for myself, having to cook dinner on my birthday, and you phoned and saved me. Which was a great present, by the way.”
“I would’ve at least made cake,” she grumbled.
“Cake!” Brandon almost yelled. Luke hadn’t realized the boys were listening.
“Sorry, Brandon,” Miranda said. “There’s no cake tonight. It’s your daddy’s fault.”
The conversation, or maybe just the word cake, woke Ariana. She stirred and knuckled her eyes. “Mommy?”
“Hi, sweetie. Want some popcorn?” Miranda balanced the bowl on her lap. She fed a few puffy kernels to her daughter, who soon drifted back to sleep.
The next time she dipped into the bowl, Luke did, too, letting his hand brush hers as if by accident. Neither of them spoke.
The time for personal conversation had passed, and there’d be no opportunity for anything any more physically intimate than hand-brushing, but Luke didn’t mind. It had been a terrific birthday. He’d learned that Miranda didn’t have her mother’s addict tendencies and, though she’d made some mistakes in her life, who hadn’t? She was trying hard, she was responsible, and she was a great mom. Those were the things that mattered.
Not to mention, she was attracted to him. Luke grinned, and it wasn’t at the rat’s antics on the screen.