Beth rushed upstairs, her heart pounding with anxiety for Adam. What now? There was the distinct sound of an open palm smacking bare flesh. Adam and Kayla were in the big bathroom.
“Kayla! Stop!” Beth grasped Kayla’s uplifted arm. Both Kayla and Adam were crying.
“But he’s so dumb,” Kayla wailed. “Why can’t he be smart, like Becky is? He’s just plain stupid. He won’t get in. He kicked water on me!”
“Let me do it,” Beth said, making her voice calm when she wanted to scream. “Kayla, you’re tired. You’re impatient because of it. Let me bathe him. Go back in the bedroom. Lie down awhile. I’ll clean Adam up.”
Kayla rubbed tears from her face. “Okay,” she muttered. “You do it. He’s too much for me.” She turned, but before she left the bathroom she glared through angry tears at the naked, trembling little boy. “You dumb brat. How can you get clean if you won’t get in the tub? Beth, can you comb my hair again? He messed it up.”
“Yes,” Beth said evenly. “Just go lie down awhile.”
She turned to the little boy. He was backed up against the wall like a small animal at bay.
“Why don’t you want to get into the tub, Adam?” she asked gently, hoping that he remembered that she was his friend, the one who had given him food. The tears had made streaks in the dirt on his face. What went through the mind of a three-year-old child when confronted with big, angry adults?
“Too hot,” he said finally. Beth reached down to test the water. It was too hot, at least for skinned knees.
“Would you like some cold water in it?” she asked, and he nodded reluctantly. She turned on the cold tap, cooling the temperature to just barely warm. Cajoling, coaxing and explaining, she persuaded him into the tub and began bathing him. She was getting water all over her lavender silk blouse. At some point she had taken off her jacket. She couldn’t recall where she had left it. The minutes were ticking by. She managed to get Adam washed, including his hair. It was too long and somewhat shaggy, but there wasn’t any time to cut it. Doug would just have to see his grandson with shaggy hair. At least it would be clean.
When she took Adam, clean and dried, back into the bedroom, Kayla was lying flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“You know, I’m scared. That’s the whole problem. When Dad and I parted company last, he was pretty fed up with me, with my drinking problem. And it is a big problem. I don’t know what he’s going to think now.”
Beth glanced at her watch. Almost five. And Kayla showed no inclination of getting up to dress Adam. Maybe it would go more smoothly if she did it herself. Mentally gritting her teeth, and hoping the new guests would be late, Beth hurriedly picked out some clothes intended for Adam.
“Here, Adam. Would you like to wear these jeans?” She held up the pants. He stared at them, his wide eyes questioning. Then he reached out to touch them. “Adam’s new jeans,” she assured him. Then he lunged past her and grabbed a small pair of red sneakers. He looked at her desperately.
“Adam’s shoes?” he asked. “My shoes?” He gripped them to his narrow chest. “Mine!”
She had a sudden need to cry. “Yes, Adam. Your shoes.” And she was rewarded by his sudden, radiant smile.
“Mine!” he said exultantly. “Mine!”
She managed to dress him, although he kept trying to hold the red shoes, which made it awkward. As soon as she had Adam dressed, she got Kayla back to the dressing table for another combing session. She tried not to keep looking at her watch. How long was this going to last? She had a business to run. She made herself speak kindly.
“Don’t worry about your dad, Kayla. He was delighted when I told him you were here. He’s coming home as soon as he can.”
“He was? When did you talk to him?”
“Right after you came upstairs. I called to let him know you’d come. He was very pleased,” she said firmly. Well, he had been pleased. Fair was fair.
Kayla was looking at her reflection with satisfaction. “That sounds hopeful. The right clip is pulling a bit.”
Beth loosened the clip. “Is that better?”
“Fine. You see, Dad doesn’t know that I got married again.”
“But he knew you were divorced from Becky’s father, didn’t he?” Beth wanted to ask about Adam’s father. Maybe Kayla would tell her without being asked.
Kayla continued to gaze at her reflection. “Yeah, he knew that. You sure do have a way with hairstyling. I look great. Thank you, Beth. You’re an amazing woman.”
All right. She would ask. “Why didn’t Adam’s father come with you?” That was blunt enough. She put down the comb and got a glimpse of herself in the glass. She was positively disheveled! Bathing small children was something she hadn’t done in a long time.
“Mitch died,” Kayla said almost accusingly. “He was… Well, he got into some trouble about a DWI. And he was sent into rehab. Being sent is a lot different than going in on your own. He wasn’t ready, see. But he had to go. It was that or a jail sentence.” She was staring angrily into the mirror. “He was fighting it, see? And I guess he drank the wrong stuff. It’s hard to get anything decent to drink in rehab. They thought…afterward…that he’d drunk something like maybe rubbing alcohol. Anyhow he…died. And he left me with Adam to take care of. Just on my own. That’s why I’ve really got to get squared away. And the last time Dad and I were together he said if I ever really meant to get dry he would help me. But I really had to mean it. Well, I mean it now. I got to. No ifs, ands or buts. This is it.”
Beth’s heart sank. “Of course he will help you,” she made herself say. This was Doug’s daughter. She tried to sound sympathetic. Poor, desperate Kayla, fighting her demons and trying so ineptly to care for a small child at the same time. She was thankful her own daughters didn’t have such difficulties.
Kayla’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Thank you, Beth. You can’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Then Beth felt guilty. She really had no right to judge Doug’s daughter. Her own life had been so good.
Beth was about to say something comforting when the front door chimes rang out. The new guests! Without thinking, she hurried out into the hall and down the stairs as the chimes rang out again. Almost at the door she remembered that she hadn’t combed her own hair, and she noticed that her gray skirt as well as her blouse was liberally splashed with water. Well, so be it. She pasted on her perfect hostess smile and opened the door.
“Mr. and Mrs. Driscoll,” she said brightly. They were a stocky middle-aged couple. Mr. Driscoll smiled but Mrs. Driscoll didn’t.
“Yep. We got here and only got lost once, finding the place.” Mr. Driscoll dropped the big suitcase onto the porch.
“Come in,” Beth said, smiling. “Everybody gets lost at least once finding this place. Didn’t you get the little map I sent?”
“He lost it,” Mrs. Driscoll snapped. She was looking at Beth’s wet skirt intently as they went into the entry hall. Mr. Driscoll had picked up the big bag again and dropped it inside the hall. It sounded heavy.
“If you’ll just register here…” Beth said, indicating the registration cards on the small neat desk. “And feel free while you’re here to take postcards and things as you need them. We have some good views of Seattle.” She was going automatically into her welcome-the-new guests routine. But she wished fervently that Doug would walk through the door. She had to at least offer to carry the big bag upstairs.
As Mr. Driscoll registered, Mrs. Driscoll finally said what was on her mind.
“Do you know there’s water all over your clothes?”
“Yes, I know it,” Beth said, laughing. “I was bathing our little grandson. I forgot how small children splash about. I’m going to change in a minute.”
Mrs. Driscoll’s face went dark and forbidding. “Are there children here? The bed-and-breakfast directory said there were no children here.”
“Th-there aren’t, actually,” Beth stammered. “I mean, he doesn’t live here. He’s just visiting.” As soon as she said it she thought, But he does, at least for a while. Was this going to be a problem?
Mrs. Driscoll was still worried. “Does he cry at night? I have a sleep disorder. I’m a very light sleeper. Anything—even the drop of a pin—wakes me up. Oh, dear, I really must get my rest. Is our room near his at all?”
“No, it isn’t,” Beth said quickly, instantly rearranging the room assignments in her head. She would put the Driscolls in the very front bedroom. And when Mr. Bryant arrived later, she would put him in the room next to Kayla and Adam. Justin Bryant was a regular who came up every spring from San Francisco to look for “collectibles” for his antique shop. He was a pleasant, good-natured man. He wouldn’t care about not getting his regular room for once.
“Well, we’ll just hope for the best,” Mrs. Driscoll said wearily, as if the weight of the world rested on her thick shoulders.
Beth reached the top of the stairs, out of breath from carrying the Driscolls’ suitcase. What did they have in it—lead weights? There were guests and then there were guests. She huffed her way to the very front bedroom, wondering what Mrs. Driscoll would find wrong with it. Mrs. Driscoll let her know immediately.
“Oh, dear, this bed has a canopy,” she said with a worried glance around the lovely room. “Canopies are pretty but they are dust catchers. I have several allergies. Dust is just deadly for me.”
“I don’t think you’ll find any dust in here,” Beth said briskly. “My cleaning service vacuums everything, including all fabrics, draperies, upholstered furniture and canopies. I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable here.”
“Well, we’ll just hope for the best,” Mrs. Driscoll said with weary patience.
Mr. Driscoll tried to help. “Oh, come on, Myrtle. This is a lovely old mansion. Be glad the lady opens it to the public.”
Whereupon Mrs. Driscoll turned to Beth and said with woman-to-woman frankness. “Actually, Bert is the one who likes these bed-and-breakfast places. I’d much rather have the anonymity of a motel—so much more privacy.”
Beth’s perfect hostess smile remained fixed while she wondered who in the world could possibly dream of invading this woman’s privacy. She indicated the small desk.
“You’ll find house stationery in there and postcards with a picture of the house on them. There’s also a city map and a what-to-see leaflet. Mrs. Driscoll, are your allergies food related, too? Our breakfast menu offers a fairly wide variety. Both for low-cholesterol people and high-cholesterol people. We have eggs, any style, with sausage or bacon. Plus a wide selection of muffins or home-baked bread. The muffins are small, two-bite sized, so you can have different kinds. Then, for those who need to eat more carefully, we have muesli, nonfat milk and, of course, lots of fruit and juices.”
“You’re very kind,” Mrs. Driscoll said sadly. “I’m sure I can find something.” And Mr. Driscoll patted her shoulder in a comforting manner.
Beth escaped into the hallway with a suppressed sigh as she heard Doug enter the front door. As always, her heart lifted and all fatigue vanished. She ran down the stairs like a teenager.
“Doug!” She flew into his arms and was held for a moment against his strong body, raising her face for a kiss.
“Where’s Kayla?” he asked anxiously, glancing around.
Beth drew back, letting her hands linger on his arms. “Upstairs resting a bit. She was tired from her trip.” Should she tell him about Adam? No. Let that come from Kayla. Presenting Doug with a grandson might be part of Kayla’s fence-mending with her father.
“Did I get here in time to carry suitcases?” Belatedly he kissed her, but it landed on her temple as she was drawing away from him.
“No. I did it all, and I’ll have you know it weighed a ton. Their name is Driscoll. Mrs. Driscoll requires pampering, so I put them in the front bedroom.”
He frowned. “Isn’t that Justin Bryant’s regular room? Isn’t he coming tonight?”
“I’ll explain later, darling. Why don’t you go up and see your daughter? They—she’s in the back bedroom. You two have a lot to catch up on and I have to change.”
“You’re all wet,” he said, suddenly noticing, and just then the doorbell chimed again.
“Go on up. I’ll get that. It’s probably Justin Bryant,” Beth said, touching the side of his face briefly. She found herself listening intently to Doug’s steps as he went up the stairs. She had an odd little sense of dread, which she quickly brushed aside as she hurried to open the front door. She knew Justin Bryant well and was ready to welcome him on his spring foraging among the collectibles of Seattle.
“Come in,” she said eagerly. “And yes, I know my clothes are wet. I was just about to change. I’ll show you up this time. I’m sorry, Justin, but I had to put you in a different room. I hope that’s all right.”
“Oh, I can’t stand that,” he said in mock despair. “You know how set in our ways we middle-aged guys get. Well, how many kinds of muffins will I get for breakfast? Maybe that will make it right.”
“Four kinds,” Beth assured him, and, as they mounted the stairs, she explained tactfully about Mrs. Driscoll’s sleep disorder.
As she spoke she couldn’t help but look toward the back bedroom, but the door was shut. Would Doug be shocked at finding a grandson he had never been told about?
Justin Bryant was still talking. “…and I intend to beat Doug at Scrabble this time. I have a new dictionary. Who else is here besides the fragile lady who took my bedroom?”
Beth found herself telling him about the sudden arrival of Doug’s daughter and the other two guests who were arriving tomorrow.
“Oh, good. Full house,” Justin said. “You can always find somebody interesting in a full house.”
After she left Justin, she finally managed to change into an at-home outfit, one of Doug’s favorites. A soft heather jersey with a swishy draped skirt. Doug was trying to paint a picture of her in it. He had made dozens of sketches but he wasn’t satisfied.
“I guess what talent I’ve got is for landscapes,” he had said. “Trees. Rocks. Hills. Sea. Those I can do. Why can’t I capture your beautiful face?”
She went into the kitchen to start dinner and realized she was still listening intently for some sound from upstairs. Twice she couldn’t resist going to the bottom of the stairway for a moment. When would they ever come down? Would Doug really be happy? Was he as pleased as he had sounded on the phone? From the kitchen she heard the Driscolls leaving, and the murmur of Mrs. Driscoll’s voice, sounding plaintive. She hoped they wouldn’t come back early, but they probably would. Then, a few minutes later, she heard Justin Bryant bounding down the stairs. He had friends in Seattle, so he would probably be back late.
Finally. Beth heard Doug and Kayla coming toward the kitchen. Oh, please, God, let Doug be happy. Let this be right for Doug. Then, belatedly, she prayed, And let it be good for Kayla, too. She breathed a sigh of relief at Doug’s wide grin. He was carrying Adam. The little boy wasn’t frowning, but his small face was dead serious.
“Ah, something smells wonderful. And I’m famished. Why didn’t you tell me my grandson had arrived?” He leaned over to kiss Beth, and she felt herself flushing like a schoolgirl on her first date.
“I wanted Kayla to tell you,” Beth said. She couldn’t help but smile, too. Kayla looked radiant, so the reunion must have gone well. She was a pretty woman.
“Everything’s almost ready,” Beth said happily. “Just go in and sit down. I’ll bring in the food.” She had set the dining room table with her best china and silver in Kayla’s honor. There was a low centerpiece of early white crocus. She had put the wooden booster seat on one of the chairs for Adam. As the three seated themselves, Beth began serving. The London broil marinade had tenderized the meat so it could be cut with a fork. The roasted red-skinned potato wedges were perfectly done. Beth sprinkled grated cheese over them, knowing it would melt by the time it reached the table. Then she quickly filled the chilled salad bowls with greens. She took everything in on the big silver tray because she didn’t want to get up from the table again until dessert, and because she knew Doug would leap up to help her. Let me take, Beth, it’s too heavy for you.
It was a lovely, comfortable meal, enriched with talk and laughter. Kayla’s tension was gone. She was relaxed, pleasant and sometimes quite funny. Adam tucked into his food with sober concentration, as if he hadn’t had a peanut butter sandwich and cookies in midafternoon. Kayla ate hungrily, too, with little approving comments. “Oh, Beth, this is so good.”
Looking at Adam fondly, Doug said, “I had a bit of trouble getting acquainted with the little guy, but he loosened up after a while.”
“Adam’s kind of quirky,” Kayla said. “He’ll probably end up like his daddy. Mitch was a loner. I don’t think he ever had any real friends.”
Beth met Doug’s eyes across the table in time to see the quick look of rejection. She could almost feel his thought: No. Not Adam. Somehow, some way, life must be better for Adam. And again, Beth felt the sense of uneasiness.
Kayla’s energy didn’t last long after dinner, and Adam had already fallen asleep, curled up on the floor beside Kayla’s feet, soon after they had gone into the living room.
“Why don’t you go to bed, sweetheart?” Doug asked her. “I know you’re beat. Traveling does that.”
Kayla hid a yawn behind a slender hand. “I think I will, Daddy—if that’s all right with you, Beth. Tomorrow I’ll be a new woman. And I intend to be some help. I’m a pretty good house cleaner when I get going. Daddy, will you carry Adam up for me?”
Beth went back into the dining room and cleared the table. She was putting the last things into the dishwasher when Doug came into the kitchen. He sat down at the kitchen table and she joined him. Both reached out and clasped hands as they often did. Doug was looking at her intently.
“Thank you for what you did, my love.”
“What? I don’t—”
“For Kayla. For Adam.” His voice was unsteady for a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“I know Kayla. I’m her father, remember? I know how grungy she can be when she reaches the point of going back on the wagon again. And I recognized Jill’s blue dress.”
“Oh, that,” Beth said in sudden embarrassment. “I… She lost her luggage and she needed—”
“And if anybody needs, you fly to the rescue. I love you, Beth. I hope I deserve you.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “And it salvaged Kayla’s pride a bit, too, not having to face me looking like a ragamuffin. I know she must have been.”
“How…how did things come out?”
He released her hands and got up. “Pretty well, I guess. With Kayla I’m never sure. But this time I think she really means it. Endicott’s death got to her, I believe.”
“Who’s Endicott?”
“Adam’s father. Mitch Endicott.” He went over to the refrigerator. “I’ll start the breakfast preparations while I tell you. No, don’t get up. You’ve done enough today.” He took the melons out of the fridge and put them on the long drain board.
Beth sat back as he took things out of cupboards and drawers and rolled up his sleeves. She loved to watch his big hands working. The big hands that could saw logs for the fireplaces or wield a tiny paintbrush to put sunlight on leaves or, as now, use the small scoop to create melon balls for breakfast.
“Kayla wants to go back into rehab. This time for the complete cure. She knows it won’t be easy, mainly because she’s tried before and failed. The rehab treatment takes about three months and will cost the earth. But I can afford it—though my emergency fund is taking a bit hit.”
“But if she really means it and is successful, won’t it be worth it?” Beth felt a surge of relief. She had a quick mental image of Kayla, not an alcoholic. Kayla not depending on Doug, but competent, successful. Kayla taking her little boy and going away.
“More than worth it. But she wants us to take care of Adam while she’s away. She can’t take a three-year-old with her into rehab.” He turned from the sink, the melon baller held loosely in one hand. “What do you think about that?”
“Of course we can take care of Adam,” she heard herself saying firmly. What am I thinking of? I have a business to run! And at the same time she had a recollection of Adam clutching the red sneakers to his chest. Mine. Well, Doug was worth it. If he wanted Adam to stay here for three months, so be it.
“I didn’t doubt it, love. I know you too well for that. And when I saw Kayla in Jill’s blue outfit, I figured it was practically a done deal. And, you know, I believe it will come out right this time. I feel sure it will. She’ll stick with it. She means it. I don’t know if you can understand this or not…how much this means to me. Your girls, Kate and Jill, don’t seem to have any problems at all. They seem so right with life. I want that for Kayla, too.” His voice was unsteady again.
“Kayla’s life is screwed up because of me. Don’t shake your head, Beth. I know what I know. You may have wondered why I’ve never talked about my first marriage, but it wasn’t…very good. My fault, too, I guess. I did have a good, solid live-at-home job, lecturing on economics at our local college. But I didn’t like academia. I didn’t like…my marriage. I wanted out. At the time I was thinking of no one but myself. I couldn’t walk out on the marriage commitment, but I got a job as a textbook representative because it demanded that I travel. It got me away. It set me free. When Kayla needed me—and she did—I was never there for her.”
He worked silently for a time. Beth didn’t know what to say. When he finished with the melons he put down the scoop and began gathering up the rinds for the disposal. The kitchen was filled with the drone of the grinding. Beth stared at the large platter of melon balls. The bright orange cantaloupe, the red watermelon, the pale green honeydew. It looked like a picture and would be tempting on the buffet in the morning. She watched as Doug carefully covered it with plastic and put it in the refrigerator. Then he took the two bun warmers out of the cupboard and put them near the electrical outlets so she could fill them with Kate’s tiny, home-baked muffins in the morning. At last the grinding noise stopped.
Doug had never talked to her before about his first marriage. Nor had she talked to him about her long marriage to Ralph Bennett. Nor her guilt because she had never loved Ralph as he had loved her. Perhaps everyone felt guilty about some things—things done wrong, or things not done when they should have been done. She got up and went to him, taking his big hands and raising them briefly to her lips. Her heart ached for him. She knew what it was like to feel guilty.
“Beth, are you sure about this? I’ll help out more than I have been doing, but running a busy B and B and looking after a three-year-old kid won’t be a piece of cake.”
Beth put her fingers over his lips. “Don’t worry. We can do it. We will do it.” But even as she said it, there was that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. How ridiculous. Really ridiculous. Of course they could do it. It was only for three months. So why wouldn’t the sickness go away?