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KNOWING WHAT SHE DID in her first few minutes on the job would set the tone for her entire stay in the McCabe household, Kate gathered the boys into the kitchen for a meeting. While they listened with varying degrees of attention, she explained what she had planned.
“There’s only one problem with that,” Will announced as soon as Kate had concluded, looking more than a bit surly as he worked with two hand-held weights. “As I mentioned earlier, I’ve already got plans for the evening.”
“So do I,” Brad interjected, then resumed talking on the phone.
Wordlessly, Kate reached over and took the receiver from Brad’s hand. “He’ll call you back after he’s finished his chores,” she said into the receiver, then cut the connection.
Brad’s mouth gaped open. “Hey! You can’t do that!”
Riley grinned, enjoying his brother’s discomfiture. “Looks like she just did.”
Will looked at the list of chores Kate had scribbled. “I don’t do bathrooms—ever!” he said with a scowl.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not scrubbing anything!” Brad said.
“Then that’s too bad,” Kate said as she cut the jobs into little slips of paper and put them into the newly christened Job Jar in the center of the table. She folded her hands in front of her calmly. “Because none of you will be getting out of here anytime soon.”
It was time this group started behaving like a family, Kate had decided. And the first order of building a team was to identify and then embrace collective responsibility. Then to work together to make things happen. Without either of those things, there could be no real caring for each other or pride in or acknowledgment of all they still had in the wake of Ellie’s death, which, whether they realized it or not, was plenty.
All four older boys exchanged anxious looks. “What are you talking about?” Will demanded.
“As long as I’m in charge here, the rule is, you do your chores before you go anywhere. So each of you four older boys pick two tasks and get busy. Meantime, I’ll get supper going. And Kev here can help by picking up all his toys and putting them away and setting the table.”
As Kate opened the refrigerator door to see what was on hand, she could feel the McCabe boys’ eyes staring at her as if she’d grown two heads. She perused the shelves crammed with junk food and wilting produce and forced herself to not think about how much easier this would have been if Sam had been in here with her, pitching in, too, and setting a good example for his kids.
He wouldn’t be here during the day tomorrow, anyway, so they might as well get used to listening to her now—while he was still on the premises to witness her success at handling them. Because if this was a test, from both him and his boys, she was determined to pass it. She turned around and smiled at them, using the same matter-of-fact tone of voice she’d heard her father use with his football teams countless times. “You heard me, guys. Get moving.”
ALL THREE OLDER BOYS—having completed their chores in the most unhelpful manner possible—stared at the platters of hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, baked beans and cut-up fruit Kate had put on the kitchen table. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Riley said.
“This is kid food,” Will scowled. At seventeen, he did not see himself as a kid. “I don’t see any hot dog buns,” Brad complained.
“There aren’t any,” Kate told them, not about to apologize for the meal she’d put together.
“Well, I can’t eat a hot dog without a bun,” Brad announced grimly.
“We have bread,” Kate offered. It had been stale but not moldy and she had freshened it as much as she could by warming it in the microwave.
“Bread is not the same as buns!” Brad pushed back his chair with a screech.
“Mom made her mac-n-cheese from scratch.” Riley scowled and pushed the bright orange pasta around with the tines of his fork.
So did Kate, when she had the resources. Since she hadn’t, she’d used the mix in the pantry.
Riley frowned and held his nose. “Did somebody put onions in the baked beans?”
Okay, so it wasn’t going smoothly so far, Kate reassured herself firmly, but this was only the first meal and she was only two hours into the job. It would get better as soon as she acclimated.
Lewis returned, his glasses sliding down his nose, his hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans. “Dad says eat without him,” he reported with a deeply disappointed sigh as he slid into the chair next to Kate. “He’s busy.”
The boys exchanged unhappy glances. “No surprise there,” Will muttered.
Clearly they wanted their dad to join them. So did Kate. Thinking maybe that would help the boys feel better, like more of a family unit, she murmured, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Better not bother him,” Lewis warned, looking worried.
“I’ll just be a minute. You boys can go ahead and start putting food on your plates,” Kate said. She went to the study. The door was shut, as it had been earlier. She knocked.
“What?” Sam demanded in an irritated voice from the other side.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Kate thought as she pushed open the door.
Sam shot her an annoyed glance then went back to his computer screen. “I already told Lewis I don’t want to eat now.”
“Sure now?” Kate prodded lightly, “we’re having all your favorites.” And then proceeded to name what was on the menu.
Ignoring her, Sam continued to stare at the chart on the computer screen in front of him. “I’ll get something later.”
Kate edged closer. On the shelves behind his desk were a variety of framed family photos taken over the years. Some had been taken on vacations, others on birthdays. And there were a couple of formal portraits, too. In all of them, the McCabes appeared to be a close-knit group. And in all of them, Ellie, a hauntingly beautiful brunette, with delicate features and light green eyes, stood at the center of the group.
Realizing what she was looking at, Sam spun around in his chair. Suddenly his dark brown eyes were cold as ice. “Didn’t the boys tell you the rule? When I’m in here working, I’m not to be disturbed! And you aren’t to be in here, either. I don’t want you in here cleaning, or reading a book, or even opening a window, whether I’m here or not. Got it?”
Kate got it, all right. She didn’t need her Ph.D. to realize this wasn’t just about maintaining his privacy. By effectively fencing himself off from his sons at home, just as he did at work, Sam McCabe had made himself damn near inaccessible to his sons much of the time. No wonder they were all acting out. He didn’t even show up for meals when he was actually present. But figuring it was too soon to get into all that with any hope of success, Kate concentrated on the things they might be able to discuss with a little more success. “What about your laundry?” Kate asked.
Sam grimaced and turned back to his computer. “I send it out.” A muscle worked in his jaw as he slanted her yet another aggravated glance. “You just get the boys organized and back on schedule and we’ll all do fine.”
“I can do that,” she acknowledged quietly. “Maybe even eventually be their friend if I’m here long enough, but I can’t be their mom or their dad, Sam. Only you can do that. And right now, those boys of yours want a parent eating dinner with them.”
A grim silence fell between them but once again Sam made no move to join them. Instead he snapped defensively, “My relationship with the boys has not changed since Ellie died.”
If that was true, it was a pity. But Kate didn’t think it was. Kate glanced again at the framed photos of happier times, when Sam and Ellie both looked very much engaged in their children’s lives. “Those photos, Sam, say otherwise.”
“HE’S NOT COMING, is he?” Lewis said, frowning unhappily.
“No.” Kate put on a cheerful face and worked to hide her disappointment. “He said he’ll grab something later.” She took her place at the head of the table, between Kev and Riley.
Dinner was a silent affair. The three older boys, still angry about their chores, merely picked at their food. They bolted the moment they were excused from the table, muttering disparaging comments just loud enough for Kate to hear. Lewis did his best to enjoy the meal Kate had prepared, but after the way Sam had shut them out, he didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. Only six-year-old Kevin ate heartily, getting as much on him as in him. “If you want, I can watch Kev for a while,” Lewis offered as Kate began to clear the table.
“That would be great, Lewis.” Kate smiled. “Thank you.”
She was nearly finished cleaning up the kitchen when Sam walked in. Doing her best to hide the discouragement she felt about the way things were going thus far, she said, “I made up a plate for you.”
As he opened the refrigerator door, Sam gave the food a dismissive glance. “I’ll get it later.” He took out a cold beer and a single serving of string cheese. “I just put Help Wanted ads in all the major Texas newspapers.”
Kate closed the dishwasher and tried not to think how easily his six-foot-four frame dwarfed her own five-foot-seven inches. She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re not going through an agency this time?”
Sam shook his head, his dark eyes grim. “Been there, done that,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“In other words, you’ve been blacklisted.”
“Something like that, yeah,” he said dryly.
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
Tensing visibly from head to toe, Sam twisted off the beer cap, and tossed it into the trash. “Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the three older boys are just a tad hostile,” Kate said sweetly. And so are you.
“I thought they liked you,” he remarked.
That was the irony of it, Kate admitted reluctantly. She and the boys had started off fine…at the hospital. Had Sam only consented to bring them there for group counseling, she and the kids might still be communicating fine. But he hadn’t. She’d had to go to them. Invade what was essentially hostile territory. As a result they’d gone so far backward in the trust department it was going to take days to recover lost ground. This could have been avoided, had Sam welcomed her into their home and their lives, or even given his boys the slightest hint he thought she might be able to help them deal with losing Ellie. Instead, he had worked to make things that much worse, and succeeded.
Aware Sam was still waiting for an explanation, Kate struggled to contain her frustration. She knew she had come on strong, but it had been necessary. The boys needed to know they couldn’t walk all over her the way they had their previous housekeepers. They had to know that even though their mother was gone, there were still rules.
“I think they did like me until I tried to come in and take Ellie’s place.”
Sam’s expression hardened as he took a swig of beer. “No one can do that,” he warned grimly. “However, I will find someone who can run the house.”
“And until then?” Kate challenged, knowing, even if Sam didn’t, the boys needed much more than clean clothes, good food and a tidy environment to get over the loss of their mom.
Sam glared at her and took another long drink. “What’s your point?”
Finding it awkward to talk about something so intimate when he was standing all the way across the kitchen, Kate stepped toward him and lowered her voice. “When was the last time you and the boys did something together as a family, Sam?”
“I don’t know.” Resentment glimmered in his eyes. “Why?”
“Are you telling me it was so long ago you can’t remember?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Sam said stonily, pushing away from her, “except to mind your own business.”
“So we can’t even talk about the boys?”
He straightened, towering over her, intimidating her with his height and weight and strength. “You got that right.”
“What about Ellie?” Kate persisted, deliberately pushing his buttons, to bring his emotions closer to the surface. She edged closer, mimicking his kick-butt stance. “Are we allowed to talk about her?”
“Ellie’s gone, Kate,” Sam said, the edgy expression on his face intense. “No amount of talking is going to bring her back.”
No wonder the family was such a wreck, Kate thought on a beleaguered sigh. Not only had they all suffered a major loss, they were following Sam’s lead and keeping all their grief locked deep inside.
Sam took a long drink of his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, letting her know with a glance they were changing the subject—now. “I have to be out of here early tomorrow.”
Kate ignored the curtness of his voice and the feeling that he didn’t want her—or any other woman—in his house any more than his three older sons did. It wouldn’t be easy living in such a hostile environment, even for a few days. “How early?” she asked.
“4:00 a.m.”
Kate waited, but to her mounting frustration no explanation was forthcoming. Was this typical of his schedule? she wondered, as she turned and headed back to the sink. Something being enacted just for her behalf? Part of the “test” he was expecting her to fail? Or a once-in-a-while occurrence? He gave her no clue. Because he seemed to be expecting some reaction from her, she utilized the most professional response that came to mind. “Do you want me to get up and cook breakfast for you?” Is that what he wanted from her?
Sam did a double take. Obviously not the reaction he had been looking for. “No,” Sam said as he helped himself to some whole wheat crackers.
So you’re not going to make this easy on me, either, Kate thought as she fished the dishrag out of the sudsy water and wrung it out with both hands. “When do the boys get up in the morning?” she asked as she began to wipe down the kitchen table.
Still ignoring the dinner plate she’d made for him, Sam polished off the crackers, drained the rest of his beer, and reached for another long-necked brown bottle. “Generally, the older four sleep as late as they can, since it’s summer, although that will change starting this week when their extracurricular activities kick into full pre-season throttle with daily rehearsals and stuff. Kev gets up around seven-thirty—like clockwork.”
“I’ll set my alarm for six, then,” Kate promised, briskly wiping down the already-wiped black granite countertops. Finished, she flipped the cloth back into the sink and wiped her hands on a towel. “If Kev needs me before that, wakes with a bad dream or something, and you’re already gone, will he know to come to me?”
“I’ll tell him when I tuck him in.” Sam paused to twist open his second beer. “As for tomorrow specifically, I don’t know what any of the boys has on the agenda. Although Will may have said something about an early football practice….”
“I’ll find out and handle it,” Kate promised.
Sam lapsed into a brooding silence. Kate looked into his face and read his unease. Odds were he was thinking about her inexperience in the homemaking arena, worried she couldn’t handle his crew. She’d prove him wrong if it was the last thing she did. And once she conquered that, she’d win his confidence as a professional therapist and start to work on their grief.
LATE SUNDAY EVENING while Mike was over at the high school working on the physical training program and practice schedule for the entire season, Joyce Marten spread sample styles of wedding invitations across her dining-room table.
She was determined Kate would have the most perfect wedding Laramie, Texas, had ever seen. She had promised Kate that she and Kate’s father would “take care of everything,” from the invitations to the reception. She didn’t want her daughter worrying about anything during what should be the happiest time of her life. Joyce knew what it was like to have parents who weren’t the least bit interested in their child’s life.
Joyce had grown up in a chaotic, two-career household where the only thing that could be absolutely counted on was the constant bickering between her two very strong-willed, domestically disinclined parents. Early on, Joyce had decided she was not going to let that happen in her own adult life. When she married Mike and had his children, she made homemaking—instead of an outside career—her priority, ensuring their home was a cozy, warm and welcoming place where hot meals and clean sheets were to be counted on. She did whatever she needed to do to keep the peace between Mike and herself and the kids. It wasn’t easy, given Mike’s overprotective attitude where his kids were concerned. He felt he knew what was best for them in every situation and no one was going to tell him any different.
But Joyce had managed just fine, keeping everyone happy and healthy and reasonably content, until the summer before Pete’s senior year of high school. Then, for reasons she still didn’t completely understand, everything had fallen apart. Tension between Pete and Mike escalated day by day until Pete’s death. And Joyce had been powerless to stop it.
She saw the same potential for family conflict arising from Kate’s involvement with Sam McCabe and his boys. Mike still resented Sam for his role in Pete’s death. He felt, more than anyone, that Sam had had the potential to prevent the accident, and hadn’t. In Mike’s mind, Sam was part of the reason Pete had died, and the last thing Mike wanted was Kate under Sam’s roof, even temporarily.
But how to get Kate out of there without causing a rift between herself and Kate, Joyce didn’t know. Especially since Kate was every bit as headstrong as her father. She couldn’t just tell Kate not to do it. Mike had already tried that and it hadn’t worked. And now Kate was, if not angry at her father, at least very exasperated and upset with him. Joyce couldn’t get Mike to change his attitude, either. If she even tried, they would end up having an argument. So here she was, Joyce thought, powerless and caught in the middle again. And all this with Kate’s wedding coming up….
Outside, Joyce heard a door slam. Seconds later Mike strode in the back door. “I drove by Sam McCabe’s place on the way home,” he reported gruffly, coming into the dining room where she was working. “Kate’s car is parked out front.”
Joyce put down a lovely ivory parchment invitation with a filigreed gold leaf design. “I don’t know why you’re surprised about that,” she said gently. “Kate told us this afternoon she was going to do this, whether we approved of her actions or not.”
Mike sat at the table, opposite Joyce. “I was hoping she would change her mind when she found out how much we both disapproved of what she’s doing. Failing that, I hoped Craig would be able to talk her out of it.” Mike shook his head disparagingly. “What’s wrong with that boy, anyway?”
The last thing Joyce wanted was for Mike to find fault with Craig who, up to now, anyway, had been very high on Mike’s approval list. “I’m sure he just trusts her judgment,” Joyce said gently as she picked up a pale blue invitation with embossed wedding bells on the front and navy ink.
“There’s a difference between trusting your woman and handing her over to another man,” Mike replied sagely.
Joyce paused to give Mike a level look. “Craig is not handing her over to Sam.”
Mike took off his coach’s cap and set it on the table. “He may as well be.”
“Kate’s not going to do anything to disrupt her upcoming marriage to Craig.”
Mike leaned forward urgently, elbows on the table. “I’m not saying it would be deliberate. But let’s review facts here. Kate loves helping people. She loves being needed and knowing she’s making a difference. And God knows, Sam McCabe needs help with his kids in the wake of Ellie’s death. That’s why he moved back to Laramie. You put Kate there for a couple weeks, when she’s on vacation and should be off somewhere with Craig—” Mike snapped his fingers and looked all the more disgruntled and upset. “Kate could get emotionally involved with Sam and his boys before she knows what is happening.”
Joyce pushed her own uneasiness away. “She probably will get closer to all of them. That doesn’t mean Sam is going to try to steal her away from Craig and marry her himself.”
“But he might take advantage of her.”
Under normal circumstances Joyce would have said that was impossible. But these weren’t normal circumstances, Joyce admitted silently to herself as she began gathering up her things. Kate wasn’t doing this on a professional basis, but as a friend of Ellie’s, and that put a personal emotional tilt on the situation that would not have been there otherwise. She had been away from Craig for more than nine months now. And although Kate never complained about the long separations, Joyce could tell Kate was finding them increasingly hard to take, which in turn made her not just lonely but vulnerable in a way her daughter had yet to admit.
There was also the secret crush Kate had had on Sam McCabe when she was just a kid. Mike didn’t know about that. And, Joyce was pretty sure, neither had Sam. But Joyce had seen the way Kate’s face would light up whenever Sam came over to toss the football around with Pete. The way Kate had hung on Sam’s every word or deed. Unfortunately, because he had been a good five years older than Kate, Sam had never seen Kate as anything more than Pete’s pesky kid sister. And then, when Pete had died, Sam had stopped coming around altogether.
Other crushes had followed. And eventually Kate had started dating Craig. But a girl never forgot a first crush. And that was what worried Joyce. But, figuring Mike was upset enough without knowing any of that, Joyce rose and carried the stack of sample invitations to the rolltop desk in the corner of the living room. Mike followed her and, still brooding, watched as she put everything away.
“Kate is not going to let Sam use her to ease his grief,” she said firmly, doing her best to soothe Mike’s fears. “She wouldn’t let anyone do that. She’s got too much self-respect. Plus, they’ll be well chaperoned by the boys.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mike sighed.
Joyce closed the distance between them. She turned her face up to his and fanned her hands across his chest. More than anything, she wanted this new tension in her family to just go away. “I know I’m right,” she said with quiet confidence.
“And how is that?” Mike demanded gruffly, taking Joyce all the way into his arms. He looked down at her, smiling just a little as he waited for her reply.
Joyce leaned her head against Mike’s chest, loving the warmth and strength and smell of him. “Because starting tomorrow, I’m going to be keeping an eye on the situation there, while I help Kate with her wedding plans. And before you know it, Craig will be home on leave, too.” Those two things combined would work to keep Kate’s heart focused firmly on her own future. Joyce was sure of it.
“WILL?” The urgent whisper sounded outside Will’s bedroom door.
“Are you up? Come on. Let us in.”
Will groaned at the sound of Brad’s and Riley’s voices. He wasn’t asleep yet but the last thing he wanted to do was be bothered by those two troublemakers. He rolled over and put the covers over his head, feigning deafness.
Too late, the lock gave under the persistent fiddling from the other side. His bedroom door eased open. Lewis and Brad and Riley tiptoed in, flashlights in hand, whipped back the covers, and hunkered down beside Will’s bed. “We’re having a secret meeting,” Riley announced.
“Yeah, and we need you to come.” Lewis sent Will a pleading glance.
Will had an idea why Lewis wanted him there. He wanted someone to talk some sense into Brad and Riley, because while Lewis liked to be part of the “group” he didn’t like to get chewed out or grounded. And whatever mischief Brad and Riley were concocting for Kate Marten’s first night under their roof was probably going to cause both things to happen, Will thought. Dad would hit the ceiling. And some—if not all of them—would end up on some sort of restriction. Will had had enough of that the past six months to last him a lifetime. Even when he’d had nothing to do with it, he’d ended up getting blamed just because he was the oldest. He glared at the three of them. “Next person who unlocks my door is going to get a fist for breakfast. Now get out of here.”