That Maddening Man

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Ellin watched fondly as Lizzie ran around the meadow like a puppy kept too long in a box. She flitted from one tree to the next, crying “How about this one?”

Jack had a way with her little girl. Carrying his ax Paul Bunyan-style over his sturdy shoulder, he followed her around, making a show of seriously considering each of her ill-advised choices. Even a twenty-foot-tall pine. He didn’t talk down to her or discount her childish opinions. He asked questions that made her think. Then he guided her to logical conclusions.

And he made it all look effortless. Maybe his skill was a result of his teacher’s training or dealing with children on a daily basis. Or maybe he was just a nice guy with a good heart. Whatever it was, it was certainly refreshing. She’d dated very little since her divorce, having finally decided she was not marriage material. The child-friendly men she met considered her too career-focused, and fellow workaholics resented the time she spent with her daughter.

Her ex-husband, Andrew, fell into the latter category. If he could relate to his only child as this stranger did, things might have turned out differently for their dysfunctional little family. If he had found joy in his daughter instead of viewing her as a noisome distraction, they might have overcome their other problems. If they’d found common ground as Lizzie’s parents, maybe they wouldn’t have had to compete in every other aspect of their lives.

Visitation was part of the divorce agreement, but her ex-husband expressed little interest in exercising that right. She’d called him on it last year when he announced his move to Seattle. He’d shrugged it off, saying, “maybe in a few years when she’s older and not so much bother.” The selfish fool didn’t seem to understand, or maybe he didn’t care, that unlike having the tires rotated, bonding with a child wasn’t something he could postpone until a more convenient time.

The tree hunters interrupted her thoughts. “And we have a winner!” Jack called out with game show host enthusiasm. He indicated their choice with a sweeping Vannaesque gesture.

Lizzie danced around the little cedar, setting the pom pom on the end of her stocking cap into motion. “Isn’t it pretty, Mommy?”

“Yes, very,” Ellin agreed. “Smells good, too.”

“Yep. I picked it out all by myself.” Lizzie turned to Jack who was waiting with ax in hand and issued one of her royal edicts. “Okay, you can start choppin’ now.”

He winked at Ellin. Then pretending to spit in his hands, he rubbed them together and swung the ax dramatically. After a few solid whacks, he yelled “Timber!” and the four-foot-tall tree toppled to the ground.

“This is my bestest Christmas tree ever,” Lizzie pronounced over the fallen evergreen. She insisted on helping Jack carry it to the truck.

Ellin brought up the rear. She’d been right to come on this little jaunt, even if Jack’s startling transformation from jolly old gentleman to sexy young hunk had rattled her. Lizzie was having the time of her life. The discomfort of her own reluctant physical awareness was a small price to pay for her little girl’s giggles.

Besides, she was probably making too much of it. So what if Jack Madden lifted her spirits and made her heart beat a little faster? She hadn’t been in a serious relationship for over two years. What felt like chemistry might just be hungry hormones yearning for action. Instant attraction wasn’t reliable, nor was it always mutual.

Jack had been more attentive to Lizzie than to her. He hadn’t said or done anything to make her think his interest was anything other than neighborly. And that was just the way she wanted it.

Right?

The expedition was a resounding success. Not only did they locate the perfect Christmas tree, Jack paused on the trip down the hill to point out a family of deer browsing in the brush. The wildlife sighting propelled Lizzie over the top, and her heartfelt declaration of “I love this place” gave Ellin something else to worry about: how her daughter would react in three months when it was time to leave.

It was dark by the time they returned to Ida Faye’s. Jack carried the tree inside and clamped it into a metal stand while Ellin peeled Lizzie out of her snowsuit. Pudgy greeted them by bouncing around the living room, his yapper on full throttle.

Jack set the tree up in front of the picture window and Lizzie helped him fluff out the lacy branches. The scent of cedar soon filled the room.

“Can we decorate it now, Mommy? Can I put the angel on top? Can Jack help?”

“Oh, I think we’ve imposed long enough.” Ellin stood behind her daughter, her hands on the thin shoulders as though using the child as a buffer between them. “We can’t ask him to give up his entire evening. I’m sure he has other things to do.”

Lizzie’s upturned face swiveled from Ellin to Jack. “Do ya?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m free as a bird.”

Lizzie turned back to her mother. “See. He can stay and help me put the angel on top. I’m hungry. Can you cook some pasketti? Can Jack eat wif us? Huh, Mommy?”

Ellin groaned inwardly. This was not good. Jack was easy to talk to, and she’d been so lonely these past weeks. But the tree quest was taking on definite datelike dimensions, something she’d vowed to avoid. She didn’t want him to stay but was even more reluctant to see him go. A dilemma if ever there was one.

Lizzie did not share her reservations. “Don’t you want to eat wif us, Jack? Aren’t ya hungry?”

“Well,” he admitted, “I worked up quite an appetite with all that chopping.”

Lizzie beamed with satisfaction. “See? That means he’s hungry, too. Go make pasketti now.”

Jack laughed. Ellin sighed in exasperation and made a rolling gesture of obeisance. “Yes, your Royal Munchkinness. Your wish is my command.”

“Okay.” Lizzie ducked behind Ellin and pushed her into Ida Faye’s little kitchen. Jack started to follow, but she latched on to his hand and pulled him toward the couch. “You stay in here and read me a story.”

“Yes, ma’am, princess.”

Ellin gave him an apologetic look. “Can you tell she’s used to getting her way?”

“I’d say she comes by it naturally.”

“Can I take your coat?”

He slipped out of the dark blue seaman’s jacket and handed it to her. Her heart thumped with another little thrill of appreciation. Just as she’d feared. There was a nice broad chest under the cable-knit sweater. And firm biceps. With his cold-burnished cheeks and wayward hair, he looked like that virile Old Spice sailor, home from the stormy sea. After a long voyage without female companionship and rife with desire.

Holey-moley. What was her problem? The guy was just being himself. Maybe that was the trouble. “I’ll just be a little while.” She headed for the kitchen before he could see how her own imagination affected her.

He glanced up from the couch where Lizzie had heaped her favorite picture books and smiled. Darn. Now he looked like a kindly Father Goose. Bad Ellin. She had to get those errant, needy thoughts under control.

“Take your time,” he told her. “We have plenty to keep us busy out here.”

She put pasta on to boil, then peeked into the living room. Jack sat with Lizzie snuggled comfortably in the crook of his arm, an open book on his lap. He was in the middle of a dramatic reading of The Story of the Three Little Pigs in which he somehow managed to make the Big Bad Wolf sound like a regular guy. How the heck did he do it?

After a simple dinner of spaghetti and salad, Jack helped Ellin carry the box of Christmas ornaments in from the garage. He sat in Ida Faye’s recliner with a cup of coffee in his hand and Pudgy in his lap and watched the Bennett girls decorate their tree. He imagined Jana’s reaction when she called for a full report of the day’s events and found he still wasn’t home. It would drive her nuts and serve her right.

Funny, he’d only known Ellin and Lizzie a few hours, and yet he felt strangely at ease. Being here with them gave him that familiar, déjà vu feeling that thrilled and frightened at the same time. He knew there was something right and logical about meeting them. Something fateful. As though the sequence of events that led them out of Chicago and into his life had been carefully orchestrated for his benefit.