Texas Vows: A McCabe Family Saga

“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.

Sam gestured at Kate. “I’ll show you around,” Sam said, leading the group back into the house. “Then I’ve got some work to do.”

“I’m hungry,” Riley complained loudly.

“Kate will get you guys dinner in a few minutes,” Sam promised.

“Okay, but not take-out again,” Riley interjected. “I’m sick to death of it. That’s all we ever have for dinner when one of the housekeepers quits.”

“And whose fault is that?” Sam asked, abruptly wheeling around and looking at his sons. A guilty silence fell all around. Having subdued them all for a moment, he turned back to Kate. Wordlessly he took Kate’s elbow and steered her inside. “I want this to be a strictly business arrangement, so I’ll pay you what I’ve paid all the other housekeepers as long as you’re here.”

Kate tensed in surprise. “It isn’t necessary for you to do that. I’m doing this as a friend.”

“It’s the only way I’ll let you stay.”

He didn’t want her friendship, Kate noted with disappointment.

“All right,” Kate conceded, trying to not feel hurt. “If you insist.”

Sam escorted her briskly up the stairs to the second floor. They passed Kevin’s and Lewis’s extremely messy bedrooms—a kid’s bathroom, which was also a royal mess. As they headed for the stairs leading to the third floor, Kate pointed to the closed door on the left. “What’s in there?”

Sam stopped just short of her. They were close. Too close.

“Master bedroom and bath. It’s off-limits.”

Kate took a step back. “To just me or the kids, too?”

His glance narrowed. The unhappiness that had been part of his face for months now deepened. “What do you think?”

That was just it, Kate thought, she didn’t have a clue. And Sam wasn’t helping her to understand him.

Sam led the way up to the third floor, where Riley, Will and Brad bunked. Their bedrooms and the spacious bath were equally messy. “Are the boys responsible for their own rooms?” Kate asked as she looked around.

“To a point,” Sam said. “Someone else usually vacuums and dusts.”

“Their rooms would have to be picked up first.”

“You’re beginning to catch on to the problem.”

“You can’t just tell them to clean up?”

A shadow passed over Sam’s eyes and the lines of fatigue around his mouth deepened. “You really don’t know much about rearing kids, do you?” He gave the stinging words a second to sink in, then continued. “In any case, as our temporary household manager you’ll be expected to ride herd on the boys ’round the clock.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Working. From home tonight, but I’ll probably go into my office in Dallas first thing tomorrow morning.” Sam brushed by her, inundating her with his masculinity and rapidly led the way back down the two sets of stairs to the first floor. Bypassing his study and the formal dining room—which were both at the front of the house, on either side of the foyer—he escorted her through a living room with comfy-looking sofas. Kate couldn’t help but notice that sometime in the last ten minutes, mud had been tracked inside. Ignoring the mess on the floor, Sam led the way past a screened-in sunporch off the family room to the dream kitchen with every built-in, top-of-the-line appliance imaginable. “I’ll give you some money to buy groceries in the morning. In the meantime…” He gestured at the polished black-granite countertops and open cherrywood cabinets. Here, too, dirty dishes and trash covered every surface. The floor was sticky. “You better use what’s here to rustle up some dinner for the boys.”

Kate nodded. Having apparently decided to not wait for her to fix anything, Riley came out of the laundry room on the other side of the breakfast nook. He was eating a pickle and drinking milk straight from the container. Brad looked ready to go out for the evening and was reeking with cologne. Will was putting on his running shoes. Kevin came toward Kate. Shyly, he slipped a Matchbox car in her hand, then stood close to her while Lewis picked up a discarded burger wrapper next to Kate’s foot, wadded it up and dropped it into the overflowing kitchen trash bin.

“When are we gonna eat, Kate?” Riley prodded, helping himself to another pickle from the big jar on the counter. “I’m starving.”

“As soon as possible,” Kate said, wondering where to start. Not even in summer camps had she encountered such a disorganized mess.

“I can help you, if you want,” Lewis piped up shyly.

Happy at least one of Sam’s sons was into being helpful, Kate dug in her pocket and handed over her keys. “Thank you, Lewis. I’d appreciate that. Would you mind getting my bags out of my car? And bring in my laptop computer, too, please.”

Sam’s lips compressed. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “Why do you need your laptop?”

“E-mail—it’s our main way of communicating when Craig is stationed overseas.”

Looking happy to be able to help, Lewis went off to do Kate’s bidding. The other boys, perhaps fearing they would be enlisted to help out, too, drifted off in all directions. Kate turned to Sam, already mentally rolling up her sleeves. “Before I start cooking, I want to get this place straightened up,” she said.

“Fine.” Sam regarded Kate impatiently. “But before you do that, let me show you where you’re going to bunk.” Sam led the way to the small bedroom and bath on the other side of the kitchen. “This is the guest suite. As you can see, you have your own TV, phone, bedroom and bath.”

Lewis came rushing in, her suitcase and laptop computer in tow. He set both down on the floor, then asked, “Did you need those boxes of wedding books and stuff, too?”

“I sure do.” Kate smiled and watched as he ran back outside.

Sam arched a brow in Kate’s direction. “I’m using my vacation to plan my wedding,” Kate explained as they headed back into the kitchen.

He lounged against the counter and folded his arms in front of him. “When’s the date?”

“Sometime in the fall or maybe over the Thanksgiving or Christmas holidays. Craig and I haven’t actually set a date yet.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “Why not?”

Kate flushed, feeling abruptly self-conscious as she met Sam’s eyes. “It’s not that easy,” she said, wishing Sam suddenly didn’t sound so much like her parents. “Craig has to get permission from his superiors to take time off.”

“So why hasn’t he already done that?” Sam prodded, difficult as ever. “Given the fact you’ve been engaged for…what?” he asked impatiently.

“Three years now,” Kate said, beginning to feel a little bit defensive despite herself. “And it’s complicated.”

Sam shrugged. He obviously didn’t think so. “Seems to me if you and Craig really wanted to do this, nothing, not even the U.S. military, would stand in the way.”

“Thanks for the insight,” Kate said, annoyed he had so quickly and easily gotten under her skin.

“Any time.” Sam shrugged.

“And for your information,” Kate continued, “we’re going to set a date when Craig comes home on leave the weekend after next.” She paused, knowing now was as good a time as any to inform Sam of her plans. “I’m going to need that time off, by the way, if you still haven’t found someone suitable to care for the boys.”

“I’ll have found someone by then,” Sam vowed flatly. He sent her a hard, warning look. “In the meantime, I meant what I said, you’re here as a temporary household manager and baby-sitter and that’s all.”

Back to that again. “I promise I won’t run any group therapy sessions,” Kate said dryly. She wouldn’t promise she wouldn’t be available to listen, if either Sam or his boys decided they wanted to talk.

Sam regarded her sternly. “Just so we understand each other.”

“Oh, we do,” Kate replied. Maybe more than you’d like, Sam McCabe.

A tense silence fell between them. Sam turned and started to head out. “I’ll be in my study, working,” he said over his shoulder.

“Wait just a minute.” Kate hurried ahead and inserted herself between him and the doorway. “I’m going to need your help as well as the boys’, Sam.”

Sam looked at her suspiciously.

“Whether you’re paying me or not, you shouldn’t expect me to clean this up alone,” she said practically. “All six of you made this mess. All six of you should help clean it up.”

Sam’s shoulders tensed. Kate knew what he was thinking: she’d been here five minutes and already they were arguing about where the lines should be drawn. Nostrils flaring, he leaned toward her in a deliberately intimidating manner. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t do housework, and I don’t run interference between you and my boys.”

“You mean, you won’t back me up on this,” she surmised, not giving an inch despite the way he was physically crowding her, and pushing her back out of the doorway.

Sam shrugged, letting her know it wasn’t too soon for her to see how things were going to be. “You wanted to run the show around here. Now’s your chance.” Brushing past her, he stalked off.