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Kate wasn’t surprised by her mother’s suggestion. Joyce believed in community service, though she would avoid becoming too involved in anything that might turn out to be emotionally painful or difficult. Mike was the same way. Even when Kate’s brother had died, her mom and dad had simply toughed it out and expected her to do the same. They’d never talked about the accident, except to declare Pete innocent and apportion blame for Pete’s bad judgment on others. They’d never shown or talked about their feelings, or allowed Kate to do so with them, either. Grief, uncertainty, despair, angst, sadness were not allowed in her family. In her family you moved on, period. And you avoided like mad anything that might tempt you to do otherwise. In her family, you were part of the team or you had no place there. And Kate was perilously close to getting benched. At least temporarily.
But she couldn’t worry about that. She had to concentrate on Sam’s boys. She had only to look at them to know they were suffering exactly the way she had suffered for years after Pete’s death. Everyone was telling them everything was going to be fine—when it wasn’t. Everyone was pretending things were fine—when they weren’t. If it continued, the boys would start to think the problem wasn’t the tragic situation they’d found themselves in, or their unresolved feelings about their mom’s death. They’d begin to believe there was something wrong with them because they weren’t dealing with their grief. They had enough to contend with, just losing their mother and their previously happy family life, without adding the burden of low self-esteem, anxiety and depression, too. Sam and his boys needed her and the help she could provide—whether they realized it or not. What they didn’t need was another temporary solution like her mother’s, which was no solution at all.
“Assume you and I could work out the cooking and cleaning and all that by some round-robin system, Mom, the bottom line here is child care. Do you really want to put teenage girls in the house while Sam’s not home, knowing he’s got three teenage boys there already?”
Joyce paused, thinking hard. “Maybe the little one could go into day care?”
“That would work for Kevin, sure, as long as Sam doesn’t have to travel. But then you’ve still got the other four unsupervised, and believe me, you don’t want to leave those boys without round-the-clock guidance the rest of the summer.” Not the way they were acting out. “But not to worry, Mom, Dad. Sam’s still looking for a housekeeper. As soon as he finds one, I’m out of there.” In the meantime, she’d try to figure out the best way to help each of the boys. Maybe they would get to know her and regard her as a friend, eventually becoming comfortable enough to talk to her on an informal basis. Kate didn’t care about being paid for her services. She just wanted to help the boys deal with their feelings so they could get on with their lives. If she ended up eventually helping Sam, too, all the better.
Mike sighed as he popped yet another antacid tablet into his mouth. “I still don’t see why this is your problem, Kate.”
Maybe it wouldn’t have been, Kate thought uncomfortably, if what the boys were going through wasn’t so close to what her family had suffered. Like Sam, her parents had ignored the warning signs about her brother, when he first began acting out his unhappiness. They had reassured each other and everyone else it was just growing pains, when even Kate—at age twelve—had been able to see that it was much more. Her brother had died as a result of that naiveté. She didn’t want to see it happen again. Not to anyone. And especially not to Sam McCabe’s family who had already suffered such a devastating loss.
“Sam has family in the area,” Mike continued.
“Yes, he does, and they’re all being too easy on him, cutting him too much slack because of what he’s been through.” Kate felt for Sam, too. But she wasn’t afraid to confront him.
Kate’s dad sighed, shook his head. “You should never have gone and gotten that Ph.D. in clinical psychology. You should have kept your job at the high school. You should be spending your time helping kids get into college—” A task Kate knew her father considered much more practical, respectable and laudable “—instead of pushing your way into situations you have no business getting involved in.”
It was Kate’s turn to sigh as she packed her toiletries into a tote. “I became involved, Dad, when I was asked to talk to the boys at the hospital after Kevin’s fall off the porch roof.”
Mike gave Kate a stern look. “And your involvement ended when he was sent home, with little more than a sprained wrist and a few stitches.”
Joyce laid a restraining hand on Mike’s arm. “Honey, we don’t want to fight about Kate’s choice of careers. That’s not why we came over here.”
“Why did you come over here?” Kate asked, exasperated.
“To make you see that moving in with Sam and his boys, even for a few days, is a mistake.”
He was beginning to sound like Sam.
“First of all, you don’t owe that man anything, and neither do I. Maybe if he’d been there for your older brother the way a best friend should have been, I’d feel differently, but the way it is…I don’t.”
Tension stiffened Kate’s shoulders as the conversation veered into dangerous territory. She folded her arms in front of her and squared off with her dad. “Pete’s death was not Sam McCabe’s fault.”
“And I suppose what he did to Ellie that year wasn’t his fault, either,” Mike countered sarcastically.
Kate flushed. “Sam loved Ellie, Dad.”
“He ruined her reputation, Kate.”
Just as Mike now feared Sam would somehow ruin hers, Kate thought. “Maybe for five minutes,” Kate allowed, remembering how the scandal had rocked the town initially. Kate went over to the bureau and got her brush. “Once they were married, I don’t think anyone cared.”
“Nevertheless, he proved he can’t be trusted around innocent young women.”
“Dad, I’m thirty-one years old,” Kate said wearily as she caught her hair in a French twist and pinned it in place.
Mike’s face softened. “And still as sweet and innocent as the day is long, thank God.”
Kate was silent. She had lost her virginity to her fiancé a long time ago, but her father would never accept that she was not a kid anymore. No, as far as Mike Marten was concerned, she was still daddy’s little girl! Wondering when it was going to get easier to deal with her dad, she slipped her hairbrush into her tote bag and regarded her dad steadily. “I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
“That won’t stop a man like Sam McCabe from making a pass at you,” Mike warned grimly.
He already has. Pushing the memory of Sam’s lips and hands away, Kate turned back to her suitcase. “There are going to be five boys there as chaperones. Sam is not going to do anything in front of his sons, especially when they are so clearly grieving the loss of the mother they loved so much.” Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t be able to stay over there, given what had already happened between her and Sam.
“I still think you ought to concentrate on your upcoming marriage to Craig and let the McCabes take care of their own.”
Kate wondered how her dad would feel if she were involved in the solution. Would he at long last be really and truly proud of her? As proud as he’d been of Pete at the height of Pete’s high school football career? Even as she wondered she knew the only thing her dad was likely to respect her for was becoming Craig’s wife—and providing a few grandchildren for him and her mom to love. Mike was desperate to carry on the family name, and had even talked Craig into naming their first son Marten Michael Farrell.
“It may just be for a couple of days, at most a few weeks.”
Gently, Joyce asked, “What does Craig think about this?”
Kate shrugged. “I didn’t ask him.”
“But he’s your fiancé,” Joyce protested, upset.
“That doesn’t mean he controls my life,” Kate countered stubbornly.
“Honey,” Joyce said, aghast, “this is the kind of thing…moving into another man’s house…that a young woman should discuss with her fiancé.”
Kate knew Craig wouldn’t mind. She grabbed her laptop computer and headed for the door. “I’ll tell Craig what I’m doing the next time I hear from him,” she promised.
“When will that be?” Mike asked, exchanging concerned looks with Joyce.
“I don’t know. I never know.” That was one of the frustrations of being involved with a military man. “Soon.” She hoped.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Kate’s dad said as he carried her suitcase and tote bag down to the car for her. “That Sam McCabe better appreciate what you’re doing for him and do right by you or he’s going to find himself answering to me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON, Sam summoned his boys to the living room to tell them Kate Marten would be taking care of them temporarily.
“Starting when?” Will asked, belligerent as ever.
“She’ll be here any minute,” Sam said. And he was dreading it.
“Why’d you wait so long to tell us?” Riley demanded at once.
Because I was hoping she’d come to her senses and change her mind, Sam thought. He gave his most brashly outspoken son a stern look. “I’m telling you now.” Not that she’d be here more than a day, anyway, Sam reassured himself. Once Kate had refereed a few fistfights and put up with temper tantrums, surly moods and nonstop rowdiness, she’d understand what it was really like to ride herd on five boys twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She’d want out. And no one, least of all him, would blame her for packing up and going back to work at the hospital, where she belonged.
“It seems to me—if we really want a total babe like Kate Marten to help us out for the next few weeks—that we should be doing the opposite and really cleaning up our act.” Brad pulled mint breath freshener from his pocket, sprayed some in his mouth, then paused to check his reflection in the mirror.
Sam frowned. It was exactly this kind of thing he sought to avoid. He did not want his home life turning into some sort of B movie with a bunch of underage kids lusting after the “baby-sitter.” “That’s enough,” he warned. “I don’t want anyone coming on to Kate Marten or calling her a babe, even on a lark. She’s a nice woman.” If ill-advised, Sam amended silently to himself. “And she deserves your respect.”
“Just not yours?” Riley guessed, his shiny silver trumpet dangling from his fingertips.
Sam tensed. “What do you mean?”
Lewis stopped fiddling with his hand-held video game long enough to say, “We get the feeling you don’t like her.”
Sam felt the eyes of all five of his sons upon him. “It’s not that,” he said uncomfortably.
“Then what is it?” six-year-old Kevin asked in frustration as everyone turned to him in amazement. Since Ellie’s death, he rarely spoke.
Noticing the peanut butter and jelly on his hands, Kev attempted to clean them off by wiping them on his shirt.
“Are you afraid she’s gonna get on your nerves by asking you how you’re feeling all the time and stuff like that?” Riley blurted.
There was that, Sam thought. Kate, being the do-gooder she was, probably wouldn’t hesitate to try to force some counseling down his throat. He had news for her—it wasn’t going to happen. Here, or at the hospital. He knew how women liked to talk things to death, but there was nothing talking about Ellie’s passing managed to do except bring him and the boys more pain. They’d already had enough pain the past year to last them a lifetime. He wasn’t signing any of them up for any more. Once Kate understood that…well, Sam had no doubt she’d find some other family to “help.”
“Nah, Dad can handle that. Dad doesn’t want her staying here cause he’s afraid we’ll fantasize about her,” Brad said.
It was, Sam thought, a little more complicated than that. Made more difficult by the callous pass he had used to try to scare Kate away. If his ploy had worked the way he had intended, he wouldn’t be dealing with Kate or her well-intentioned but unwanted meddling again. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked, and now every time he looked at her they’d both be reminded of what he had done. And neither of them needed that.
Lewis, who at almost twelve had yet to discover girls, frowned and looked disgusted. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Yuck. I would never fantasize about someone as old as Kate!”
“You say that now,” Brad replied with a smug wink, “but we haven’t seen her in her nightie, yet, either.”
Sam grimaced at just the thought. He watched as Kevin slid under the coffee table to play with his toy cars. “Kate Marten is not going to be running around here in her nightie,” he said firmly.
“We saw all our other housekeepers in their bathrobes,” Brad pointed out.
“Yeah, but they were all over fifty and none of them looked anywhere near as ‘babe-a-licious’ as Kate,” Riley added.
Sam did not see what the big deal was about Kate. So she had a trim figure that curved in all the right places, slender legs that looked good in high heels. There was nothing extraordinary about the honey-blond hair that fell to her shoulders. He saw hair that soft and silky all the time. As for her face, any prettiness Kate had on that score—and he reluctantly admitted she had some—was canceled out by her boldly assessing manner and the unflappable determination in her light blue eyes. Sure, she had full, kissable lips. And a softness about her that made a guy want to do his best to protect her even though he knew from the sassy look in her eyes and the confident way she carried herself that it wasn’t at all necessary. But none of that made up for the way she had judged him to be a total screwup as a father and forcibly inserted herself into his private life. And it was high time his boys realized it took more than a slender waist and a pair of breasts to make a woman worth going after.
Six-year-old Kev came out from beneath the coffee table. “I like Kate. She was nice to me at the hospital. She wasn’t all mean and bossy like Mrs. Grunwald and the other baby-sitters.”
Will looked bored as he tossed his football from hand to hand. “Who cares who comes to stay here?” he asked insolently. “I’m out of here.”
Sam stopped his oldest son before he could depart. “Oh, no, you’re not. When Kate gets here, we’re all going to be here. We’re still a family, remember?”
Will gave Sam a look that reminded Sam that wasn’t quite true. They hadn’t really been a family since Ellie’s death. She’d been the center of love and warmth in the family and the glue that held them together. Without her here to care for them, they were all kind of lost.
“Look, Dad, if you don’t want Kate staying here—and we can all tell by looking at you that you don’t—how come you don’t just come right out and tell her that?” Brad asked.
Sam figured the boys didn’t need to know about the way he and Kate had already squared off about this. That was between him and Kate. “Because Kate really wants to help us out here and thanks to the unmitigated encouragement she’s been getting from Aunt Lilah and Uncle John, she’s not going to stop pestering me until I let her try.”
Lewis studied Sam thoughtfully. “But you don’t think she’ll last.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment behind her actions,” Sam said carefully. “When someone wants to help you out of the goodness of their heart, it’s important to appreciate the thought behind the gesture. What Kate doesn’t realize—” Sam looked at the dirty dishes and fast-food wrappers littering every conceivable surface throughout the entire downstairs, including the living room “—is that she doesn’t have the life experience to be able to handle all the cooking and cleaning and organizing around here and ride herd on all you boys simultaneously.” Only Ellie had been able to do that, Sam thought. And she’d done it with such style, warmth, wit and love that everyone else who’d tried to fill her shoes, even partway, had paled by comparison and failed miserably.
Will gave Sam a faintly accusing look as he finally sat. “So why didn’t you just tell Kate Marten she’s getting in over her head, and find someone else to move in?”
Sam let out a frustrated breath. “I tried.” He knew from the moment it was suggested that it wasn’t going to work out. But Kate hadn’t accepted that. And here he was, Sam thought, still having to deal with Kate. His four older sons exchanged speculative glances, forcing Sam to explain further as he picked up some clothes off the floor and clumped them together on the piano bench. “Look, I know her,” Sam muttered, picking up a few empty soda cans, too. “We grew up together. I can try talking to Kate Marten until I’m blue in the face and it’s not going to matter one whit until she figures it out for herself. However…” Sam sighed. “Once Kate’s here for a few days—” if it even took that long, Sam amended silently “—she’ll realize she wouldn’t wish this job on her worst enemy. By then, I’ll have found another housekeeper for us. Kate’ll be able to leave, knowing she did her part to help us survive in the interim, and everyone’s happy.” His aunt and uncle would be satisfied Sam had given Kate a chance, and Kate could move on to her next do-gooding project. And best of all, he’d be rid of Kate and her interference once and for all.
“Gee, Dad, don’t think you have to sugarcoat it for us,” Riley retorted glibly.
Sam shrugged and continued just as bluntly, “We gotta face facts here, guys. Collectively, you boys have not been easy on the help.”
The boys exchanged disgruntled looks. “That’s ’cause we don’t like them,” Will growled finally, standing and looking immensely irritated at being forced to stick around.
Abruptly, Sam realized he was missing a son. “Where did Brad go?” he demanded irritably. How was he supposed to have a family meeting if one or another of the boys kept running off whenever he turned his head?
“He’s where he always is, upstairs on the phone with a girl,” Lewis said.
Will paced aimlessly, tossing his football around. “He’s in a panic cause he’s only got one date so far tonight instead of the usual three.”
Irked to find even the smallest details of his life unmanageable, Sam strode to the front of the house and bellowed up the stairs, “Brad, get down here now!”
Footsteps rumbled across the third, then the second floor. Reeking of aftershave, Brad appeared at the head of the stairs, the phone glued to his ear. “But, Da-ad…”
“Now, Brad!” Sam ordered.
Outside, a car door slammed. In tandem, the boys rushed to the window and peered out. “Kate’s here—” Lewis reported, looking happy to see her.
Brad stopped checking his reflection long enough to look out the window. He let out a wolf whistle. “Man, oh, man…”
“Brad…” Sam warned.
“We’re serious, Dad,” Riley added, his jaw dropping open in amazement. “You ought to see her.”
That was just it, Sam thought wearily, the dread inside him increasing by leaps and bounds. He didn’t want to see Kate. At all.
KATE KNEW SAM and his boys were desperate for help the first time she’d met with them at the hospital after Kevin’s accident. That impression had been reinforced when she’d come to the house to talk to Sam alone. Kate had been hoping Sam and the boys would clean up a bit before she arrived. They hadn’t.
Technically, of course, the contemporary Victorian home with the slate-blue paint, white trim and dark gray roof, was one of the largest and loveliest homes in Laramie. Or at least it had been when Ellie was alive. Sam had inherited the place from his folks. But it was Ellie who had, over the years they’d lived in Dallas, made it into an elegant summer and holiday retreat for the family.
A waist-high white-picket fence placed just inside the sidewalk that ran along the street framed the large square lot. Live oak trees shaded the front yard. Low-lying juniper and holly bushes edged the porch. The flower beds had been filled with an astonishing profusion of Texas wildflowers that bloomed year after year with little care. Some, like the Texas bluebonnets, bloomed in early spring. While the Indian paintbrush, shasta daisies, scarlet sage, rocket larkspur, baby’s breath and pink evening primrose bloomed all summer long and into the fall.
A rope-hung swing with a wooden seat hung from one of the trees. On the wide shady porch that adorned the front and both sides of the large, three-story Victorian home, were comfortable groupings of cushioned wicker furniture. Ellie had worked hard to make it warm and welcoming.
Kate shuddered to think what Ellie would make of the unkempt condition of the home now. The grass was thick with weeds and hadn’t been cut in several weeks. Bats, balls, bikes, skateboards, lacrosse sticks, a soccer ball and goals were strewn across the front yard. Worse than the disarray, was the air of neglect. Spiderwebs clung to the porch ceiling. A wasp’s nest had started atop one of the shutters. The glass had been broken out of one of the old-fashioned porch lamps and the windows were covered with a thick layer of dirt and smudges. And that was just the outside. Knowing the inside was in even worse shape, Kate squared her shoulders, shoved her sunglasses atop her head and rang the bell.
The front door opened and Sam’s boys filed out en masse. Despite the fact they were still grieving Ellie’s death intensely in their private moments, all were glowing with good health and physical strength and tons of somewhat misguided energy. They were an intelligent, handsome group of boys, with Sam’s dark hair and Ellie’s soft eyes.
Kate greeted them all in turn. Although they’d been happy enough to speak with her at the hospital during the aftermath of Kevin’s accident, to her dismay they did not seem anywhere near as enthusiastic to see her now. Probably because she was going to be the family housekeeper, aka Hired Gun, for the next few days.
Tension radiated from Sam McCabe as he stepped out onto the porch.
He was wearing neatly pressed olive-green slacks and a sport shirt in a slightly lighter hue. His face was clean-shaven and his short brown hair had been combed away from his face in a no-nonsense style that mirrored the look on his ruggedly handsome face. His dark brown eyes were shadowed with a fatigue that seemed months old. In previous summers his face had always been tanned. This year he looked as if he hadn’t spent a second outdoors. His lips pressed together thinly, Sam continued to regard Kate in a way that was meant to intimidate.
“Now can I go?” Will asked Sam impatiently.
“No,” Sam answered his oldest son, his implacable gaze totally centered on Kate’s face. “No one leaves here until after dinner.”
Kate had been hoping Sam McCabe would greet her with more enthusiasm than he had shown when she had pressured him into letting her help out. Obviously, she conceded silently, that wasn’t going to happen.
