Make-Believe Mum

CHAPTER TWO

“MICHELE!” JON SAID.

“Kaycee’s shy like Wendy,” Michele rushed on. “But Mrs. Hawthorn needs to know we have a mother so you can take care of us. Well, here she is and now you can.”

Mrs. Hawthorn narrowed her eyes and looked suspiciously from Kaycee to Jon and back to Kaycee. “Aren’t you the veterinarian?”

“Well, I…I…yes, I am a vet.”

“And you’re married to Mr. Rider?”

Jon looked at his four kids with a stricken expression. Kaycee recognized sheer desperation when she saw it. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his side, his strong arm squeezing the breath out of her so that she had no chance to speak. She could feel his body humming like a strand of barbed wire pulled too tight. Dangerous.

“We’re not married yet,” Jon said without hesitation. “But we soon will be.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Mrs. Hawthorn pressed, her skepticism obvious.

“You didn’t give me much chance,” he answered, then gazed down at Kaycee with adoring eyes that melted her to his side in spite of the tenuous situation—and the fact that the look was faked.

On her other side, Michele squeezed Kaycee’s hand so hard it hurt. There was no way she should involve herself in this family’s problems, whatever they were…. But there were three more little kids panicking behind her.

Kaycee held out her right hand—thank goodness she’d washed it already. “I’m Katherine Calloway.”

Hesitantly, Mrs. Hawthorn took it as if it might be contaminated, pulling away as quickly as she could. “And you plan to marry Mr. Rider?”

Kaycee swallowed hard. “We’ve been seriously discussing it lately. The children do need a mother, I agree. Everything will be back to normal before you know it.” Kaycee spoke carefully. She wasn’t exactly lying. She was only filling the role for a few minutes, until this social worker left. Then Jon Rider would have to figure out his problems on his own.

“I see. When?”

“When?”

“We have to get calving season behind us,” Jon said quickly. “But as you can see, Kaycee’s here today and between the two of us, the housekeeper and my oldest girls, we’ll make out until the wedding.”

Good line, Kaycee thought, but was the social worker buying it? She didn’t seem to have much of a case against Jon. If he’d kept his temper, the woman might have been gone by now. Kaycee’s gut feeling told her the children weren’t in danger of anything other than a messy house and a missing nanny, but she would make sure before she left.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to fix lunch for these hungry mouths.” Mostly, Kaycee wanted to escape before she said something wrong to cause Jon more trouble. And get the kids away from here.

Jon released her with a twitch of his lips before turning back to the social worker. “Now, if you’re satisfied, you can leave.”

Mrs. Hawthorn made a long note on her pad before looking up at Jon. “I’m not satisfied, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt since you have help. I am going to need four or five collateral references, Mr. Rider. People who can vouch for your character and fitness as a father.”

Jon shook his head in disbelief. “It’s bad enough you’re nosing around here. Now you’re wanting to spread this nonsense all over the community? Embarrass my children? Start some ugly rumor you can’t prove? I don’t think so.”

Kaycee gathered the children around her. Michele kept a tight grip on her hand. Wendy watched her warily, but the twin boys fought to grab her other hand. Mrs. Hawthorne took a business card from her notebook and handed it to Jon. “You really don’t have a choice. It could be a close relative. Dr. Calloway can be a reference. I’m not closing this case yet. I want to meet with you next week. Call to give me those references and make an appointment.”

One of the boys tugged on Kaycee’s hand. “We’re hungry. Come on.”

As they crossed the barnyard to the large ranch house, Wendy ran ahead and disappeared inside. Michele looked up at Kaycee and said, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. But what we did wasn’t exactly honest, was it?”

Michele shrugged, tears in her eyes. “We don’t want to leave Daddy. Daddy loves us. Why would that woman take us away?”

“I don’t know,” Kaycee said.

Behind them, an engine started and the social worker’s compact car eased down the road. Jon caught up to them.

“Michele,” he said, taking the child by the arm and pulling her aside. “You didn’t have any business dragging Dr. Calloway into our family problems.”

“I didn’t want that lady to take us, Daddy. I couldn’t think what else to do.”

“I’ll handle things next time. Go on in with the boys. I want to talk to Dr. Calloway alone.”

“But, Daddy,” one of the twins whined, refusing to relinquish Kaycee’s hand. “She just said she’d make us something to eat and I’m starvin’. Rachel’s been too busy to feed us since breakfast.”

“I’ll feed you in a minute.”

The look of disappointment on the boy’s face was more than Kaycee could take. “How about we all go fix a sandwich together?”

“Yeah, Daddy, please!”

Jon gave Kaycee a lingering look. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”

“No problem, I need lunch, too. Y’all lead the way. I’m right behind.”

The children’s faces brightened.

“What’s ‘y’ all’ mean?” the boy asked.

“That’s the way we say ‘you’ or ‘you all’ where I come from. You’ve never heard that before, huh?”

The kids shook their heads.

“Southern girl,” Jon commented, bringing up the rear.

“South Carolina, born and bred.”

“You’re pretty far from home. Like it out here?”

“It’s cold. But yes, I like it. I suppose you’ve always lived here.”

“Yep, grew up in this house. Went away to college because my dad insisted, did some bull riding on the rodeo circuit. He passed away fifteen years ago and most of the ranch came to me.”

Kaycee followed the brood through the back door into a utility area. Coats, caps and all sizes of shoes and boots were piled up in the corner nearest the entryway on the tile floor, scuffed and tracked with mud. Soiled clothes formed mountains on the washing machine and dryer. A rustic wooden bench stretched along one wall and floor-to-ceiling cabinets occupied another.

A doorway on the opposite wall opened into a great room. Action figures, toy animals, game pieces, coloring books and crayons, dolls and miniature clothing carpeted the floor of the sitting area. Broad windows across one wall framed snow-topped mountains and greening bottomland in pristine, orderly contrast to the shambles inside. Over the stone and wood mantel hung a large oil painting of the family. In a flower-strewn meadow, a youthful blond woman sat on the ground next to Jon, surrounded by the kids. As she gathered her brood close around her, her natural beauty and loving expression made her face radiant. Kaycee studied the picture for a long moment before moving on.

Wendy was already clearing the center island of plastic cups, plates crusted with dried food and a baby’s sipper cup. An only child, Kaycee grew up in a serene, immaculate home, but she felt sure seven kids could easily make this big a mess in a day.

“Excuse me a minute,” Jon said to Kaycee. “I need to wash up and make a phone call.”

He disappeared down a hallway. The twins scrambled to claim their stools from the assortment scattered around the large island. A copper hood encased in a brick wall covered a gourmet cooktop. Two ovens were set into the adjacent wall, with a microwave built in nearby. Michele opened what looked like a double-doored pantry, but turned out to be a restaurant-quality refrigerator with doors custom-made to match the kitchen cabinetry.

This kitchen was designed for somebody who loved to cook, but from the few items in the refrigerator, it hadn’t been overused lately. Kaycee looked around the island at the faces staring at her. Were these children being ignored, like the house? She hoped she’d done right by helping send off the social worker. If they were being neglected, she’d never forgive herself.

“Are you really going to be our mom now?” one of the twins asked eagerly.

Kaycee hesitated. “I think you’d better ask your dad about that.”

“Okay, I will,” he said with a decisive nod then tilted his head. “Can you bake cookies?”

“I can,” Kaycee assured him. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” he said innocently enough, but the look he gave his brother made Kaycee smile.

“I’m at a disadvantage here,” Kaycee said to the two boys as she worked. “Y’ all know my name, but I don’t know yours. You look so much alike, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

“I’m Zach,” the talkative one piped up. “This is my brother Tyler. We’re twins. But I’ve got a scar right here where I fell when I was learning to walk.” He pointed to a tiny blemish on his chin.

They were robust, cheerful, with curling dark hair and their father’s deep blue eyes. And identical other than Zach’s inconspicuous scar.

“We’re five years old,” Tyler offered. “Both of us. ’ Cept Zach’s three minutes older than me. My daddy said so.”

“And you’re Wendy.” Kaycee spoke to the quiet girl with straight blondish hair and somber brown eyes who nodded once then ducked her head.

“She’s shy,” Michele explained. “She doesn’t like to talk. She likes to read.”

“I see,” Kaycee said, smiling at the bashful girl. Wendy ignored her.

Michele put turkey, ham, mustard, mayonnaise, peanut butter and jelly on the counter. Then Kaycee made sandwiches according to the instructions from the girls. Wendy slid a paper plate in front of her for each one. Michele then took it, dropped a handful of chips onto it and passed it along the counter for distribution with the timed precision of an assembly line worker.

Jon came into the kitchen, looking and smelling much better than when he left. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, ridged with comb marks, and he wore clean jeans and a long-sleeved, thermal knit shirt that hugged his fit body like a glove.

“Thanks for getting started,” he said with a grin. “And for helping me out.”

“I’m not sure if I helped or made things worse in the long run. Mrs. Hawthorn won’t be happy when she learns the truth.”

“Well, maybe we can keep her in the dark for the moment, if that’s okay with you.”

“I don’t know. This worries me. We’re not playing a game. The ramifications could be serious.”

“Far from a game. I just need some time.”

Kaycee didn’t mind giving him time if it would help, but the thought of even a mock engagement didn’t set well with her at all. She’d been there, done the real thing in South Carolina. And then there was the question of the kids’ well-being. She wanted hard evidence that they were being cared for.

“Mrs. Hawthorn mentioned a baby with a fever.”

“Bo.” Jon put a gallon jug of milk on the table. “He’s almost three. Rachel and Samantha are upstairs with him. That woman was overreacting. Babies run a fever sometimes. If I thought for a minute it was serious, I’d have already taken him to the doctor. A little medicine, keep him quiet today. He’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Seven children, Kaycee mused. She took in his broad shoulders, the chiseled planes of his well-muscled chest under the shirt, his easy smile and dark good looks. Yes, Kaycee could see the lure of making multiple babies with Jon Rider. He might talk like a mother hanging around the carpool line exchanging fever remedies, but he sure didn’t look like one.

“Our mama’s gone,” Zach said. “Daddy takes care of us now.”

“I guess you heard, she passed away last year.” Jon’s words were matter-of-fact, but Kaycee detected the underlying grief in his voice. The loss of their mother reflected in the children’s eyes as they watched their father.

“I’m sorry,” Kaycee managed, not knowing what else to say. “You must be pretty self-sufficient,” she said to the children.

“We can take care of ourselves, ’ cept that old Mrs. Hawthorn won’t believe us,” Michele said. “She can’t take us, can she, Daddy?”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll talk about it later.” Jon pointed to a cabinet beside the refrigerator and said to Kaycee, “Would you pour the milk? Plastic cups are up there.”

Meanwhile, he parceled out the loaded paper plates to each child. He put a couple of plates on a tray along with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Bo, plastic cups, Bo’s washed sipper cup and the partial jug of milk. “Wendy, run this upstairs. Tell Rachel I’ll be there in a few minutes to check on them.”

“Yes, sir.” Wendy picked up the tray carefully and left.

Kaycee made a sandwich for herself and a couple for Jon with the remaining meat and bread. What would they eat tomorrow, she wondered, noting the pitifully empty refrigerator.

“No more milk,” Kaycee said to Jon. “How about water for us?”

“Sure. Let’s go in the other room,” Jon suggested.

They settled at a round table in an adjacent room. Quaint mullioned bay windows looked out over expansive grazing land running up the mountains. Jon sat back in his chair and exhaled a long sigh, contemplating Kaycee with a thoughtful expression.

“So, you’re to be my new wife, are you? And not a minute too soon.”

“Sorry, no mail-order bride here,” she replied. “Not my style. But I would like an explanation. I feel like I walked into the middle of a war zone.”

“So do I,” Jon said. “Talk about being blindsided. But, thanks for what you did. My live-in housekeeper left without notice and I need to find a new one.”

“No notice?” Kaycee said, between bites of her sandwich. “That’s not very professional.”

Jon shrugged a shoulder. “It happens. Seven kids are more than most housekeepers bargain for. I called everybody I knew yesterday, but no luck. Even called an agency in Bozeman, but from the way the woman snorted, I doubt they’ll be sending anybody my way. With that heifer calving, I didn’t have a chance to look this morning. Then, that damned social worker…I guess I should have expected something like this sooner or later.”

“Under the circumstances, I think I’m entitled to know why a social worker would be checking on the children. Are some of them stepchildren?” The twins’ eyes were a perfect match for the dark blue ones studying her now, but Michele and Wendy’s were chocolate-brown.

“No, they’re all mine. After my wife died, I let the children visit their grandparents in San Francisco, and my lovely in-laws tried to keep them. Filed a custody suit.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Why would they do that?”

“They think I’m not capable of raising the kids without Alison. They say I can’t take care of the little ones or give the girls a proper social life out here ‘in the wilderness,’ as Alison’s father calls it.” Jon’s face hardened, the light gone from his eyes. “Wouldn’t allow me near the house to even talk to my kids. Took me a month to get them home again, and a hell of a lot of money to fight that lawsuit.”

“It must be difficult managing with so many small children and a ranch to run,” Kaycee ventured. She didn’t want to make a judgment until she understood the situation.

Jon frowned and set his water glass down. “It is hard, damn near impossible sometimes. So what? Life’s hard. I’m supposed to give up my children because of that? Alison would turn over in her grave if I let somebody take those babies away from me. Never going to happen.” He leaned forward in his chair toward her, his jaw set. “And if you’re thinking they might be better off with their rich grandparents, living in the city, you’re wrong. They might be better dressed, they might have fancier food, they might be kept squeaky clean all the time—”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Let me tell you what they wouldn’t have,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They wouldn’t get the love that I give them. They wouldn’t have one another to depend on for support and attention because their grandparents are firm believers in boarding schools and au pairs. Alison would tell you horror stories of her life growing up…” Jon clenched the water glass with both hands and looked away, blinking.

Kaycee’s appetite gone, she laid the unfinished sandwich on her plate.

In the uneasy silence, he cleared his throat. “I won’t sentence my own children to that fate. She wouldn’t have wanted it and I won’t allow it. It’s as simple as that.”

But Kaycee knew better. “It’s not, is it? You’re still worried.”

He shoved his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. “The Arants are too wealthy for their own good. After their lawsuit failed, anytime I let the kids talk to them, they tried to use their money to lure them away from me. So I cut off communication.”

Only Kaycee’s paternal grandmother had survived long enough to be part of her life and she was dead now. Kaycee still missed her terribly. How empty her life would have been without Granny. No doubt Jon’s children were feeling a similar loss.

“Do you mean they can’t see their grandparents?”

“Can’t see them, can’t talk to them. Phone’s off limits to San Francisco.”

“Jon, that’s severe. How do the kids feel about it?”

Jon shrugged slightly. “I’m sure they miss Hal and Marjorie. As far as the kids are concerned, their grandparents are wonderful. But it doesn’t change what they tried to do to my family.”

“The children might not understand—”

“Daddy,” Michele said from the doorway, “we’re finished eating and the twins want to go out to play.”

Kaycee wondered how long she’d been standing there listening.

“Did you clean up,” Jon asked.

“Yes, sir, but the trash can is full.”

“I’ll take care of it. You and Wendy watch the boys for a few minutes.”

When Michele was gone, Jon nodded toward Kaycee’s plate. “You didn’t finish your sandwich.”

“I’m not very hungry.” She hesitated before asking, “Jon, don’t you think you could find some common ground? For the sake of the kids?”

“Not anymore.” He wiped his hands on his napkin then stood abruptly and picked up his plate. “Finished?” he asked, reaching for Kaycee’s.

“Yes, thanks. I’ve got it.” She took her glass and plate and followed him into the kitchen. “So what now?”

“I’m sure Hal turned in this complaint, and now I have my very own personal social worker. I wonder if he’s got a private eye watching me and knew the housekeeper quit or just lucked out on his timing?”

Jon put her half-eaten sandwich on a paper towel then forced their plates into the stuffed trash can under the sink.

“I called my lawyer earlier,” he said, transferring the trash to a large black garbage bag and tying the top. “Frank said he would try to get this case closed as unfounded. He strongly advised me to hold my temper next time, that Hawthorn could snatch the kids in a heartbeat, if she wanted to…and it could take months to get them back. That scares the hell out of me.”

“I wanted to tell you the same thing—about the temper,” Kaycee said, running hot water to wash the dishes. The girls had cleared the center island, but left the glasses and utensils in the sink. “My granny always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”