Nixie was going to wring his neck. Boone wouldn’t blame her if she did. After all that talk about taking care of Brad, here he was bringing her son home in this condition.
Boone flipped down the visor to shade his eyes from the mid-afternoon sun. He glanced over at the boy riding shotgun in the seat beside him. Brad gave him a lopsided grin and started giggling uncontrollably.
“Ish it kinda hot in here?” Brad slurred. He reached for the air-conditioning control and almost toppled over, but he was restrained by the seat belt across his chest.
“I’ll get it.” Boone cranked up the air conditioner and aimed a vent at Brad. It was bad enough the kid was going home this way. He didn’t want him getting sick, too.
Boone scratched the stubble that had sprouted overnight on his chin.
How was he going to tell Nixie her son was drunk?
Minutes later, he was pulling up in Nixie’s driveway. Boone wished he’d had a couple of hours to take Brad to his apartment and let him sleep it off before he came home. But Nixie was expecting them, and she’d worry if he wasn’t home on time.
He killed the engine and walked around to open Brad’s door. The boy was asleep, his cheek resting against the fabric seat belt.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Boone told him. “It’s time to own up to our misdeeds.”
Brad roused, but only slightly, so Boone scooped him up and carried him toward the house. Just as he’d feared, Nixie saw her son and assumed the worst.
“What’s the matter with him?” she demanded. “How did he get sick? Is it food poisoning, sun poisoning, what?”
“Let’s get him inside. Then I’ll explain everything.”
Brad was soon settled on the couch. Boone, Nixie, and Bethany stood in a semicircle around him and watched as he tried to open his eyes and keep them open.
Boone turned to Bethany. “Would you get your brother a bucket, honey? In case he … you know, barfs.”
The girl glared at him, her expression almost as fearsome as her mother’s. “Brad never gets sick,” she declared and huffed off to get the bucket.
Nixie knelt down and felt her son’s forehead for fever. “What happened to him?” she demanded.
“Well, uh….” To stop himself from fidgeting, Boone shoved his hands in his pockets. There was no delicate way of putting it, so he may as well say it right out. “He sorta got a little bit looped.”
Nixie stood up stiffly and turned to face Boone. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her this angry. Her voice, when she finally responded, was soft but far from gentle.
“My son is drunk?”
Brad stirred and said, “We played shug-lug.”
Nixie turned to Boone. “Shug-lug?”
“He, uh, means chug-a-lug.” He grinned as he remembered the silly game they had played before they left camp. “We had a little contest to see who could make the bottom of their juice box slurp first.”
Bethany came back into the room and placed the bucket on the floor near her brother.
“Where,” said Nixie, “did Brad get alcohol?”
“Brad’s drunk?” Bethany turned and gave Boone another evil glare. “Mom,” she said, “if he keeps on like this, he’ll be in jail by the time he’s ten.”
Nixie pointed up the stairs. “Bethany, please go to your room.”
The girl made a sullen exit. “Why don’t you send Boone to his room?” she called down the stairs. “He’s the one who got Brad drunk.”
Boone cringed, but her reaction was understandable. He would have felt the same way if he’d been in Bethany’s shoes.
“Why don’t we go into the kitchen and talk,” he suggested, “while we make him a pot of coffee.”
“No fair!” Bethany called down the stairs. “I never get to drink coffee.”
Nixie rolled her eyes and followed him into the kitchen. “What did he drink?”
Boone thought for a moment. “Wine cooler, I suppose.”
“You suppose? You don’t know? Where did he get this wine cooler?”
He reached up and rubbed the spot in front of his ear. “From you.”
Nixie almost dropped the coffeepot, and Boone leaped to catch it. She was handling this better than he’d expected. He put the glass pot under the drip mechanism. Walking over to the table, he pulled out a chair for her.
“Remember those juice boxes you sent?” At her affirmative nod, he continued. “One of them had apparently been in the refrigerator awhile and fermented. After Brad started getting goofy, I checked the date on the box. It had expired a long time ago.”
He watched the emotions that came and went on her face. She’d gone from anger to disbelief to something that looked like guilt.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said, whacking her palm against her forehead. “That must have been the one that had been pushed to the back of the refrigerator. I thought the box seemed a little puffy, but I was in such a hurry I didn’t look at it closely.”
“Don’t blame yourself.” Boone reached across the table to cover her hand with his own. “I should have suspected something when Brad said his juice tasted ‘tingly.’”
Nixie sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands. Boone wished there was something he could do or say to make the situation better.
Her shoulders were shaking now. Boone wanted to dry her tears and comfort her, but he didn’t. Considering the mood she was in, he wouldn’t be surprised if she used that self-defense move she’d threatened him with last night.
Then, to his surprise, he realized that her muffled sounds were actually laughter. Her shoulders shook harder, and she lifted her face until her eyes met his. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and giggled again.
“It’s so ironic,” she said. “I prepared him for snakebites, broken bones, cuts, bee stings, getting lost, and everything else I could think of. Never once did it cross my mind to teach him how to identify alcoholic drinks or what to do in case he drank too much.”
Boone got up, poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to Nixie. When she started to get up to take it to Brad, he stopped her.
“No. It’s for you. The best thing Brad can do right now is sleep. Here.” He passed the sugar for her coffee. “You need it more than he does.”
He poured himself a cup and joined her.
“There’s no way you can anticipate everything,” he said. “All you can do is exactly what you’ve already done … prepare him the best way you know how, then pray he’ll have the good sense to use what you’ve taught him so that he can take care of himself.”
Nixie ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “It’s so hard, wondering if the things I try to teach him actually sink in. He’s so … giddy sometimes.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Boone assured her. “He wasn’t giddy when he was treating Alonzo’s bee sting, was he?” She shook her head, and he continued. “And he wasn’t giddy this morning when he cooked his own eggs over the campfire.”
She sat upright, and her spoon clattered on the table. “You let him near an open fire?”
“Yes, and his eggs looked so good I asked him to make some for me.” He realized it was difficult for her to loosen the apron strings, but for Brad’s sake she must. “He’s going to grow up whether you like it or not. Wouldn’t it be better to supervise him when he tries new things than to keep denying him and take a chance that he’ll sneak behind your back to do it?”
She didn’t respond, but Boone knew he’d given her something to think about.
“Why don’t you go try to sober Brad up, and I’ll dilute some coffee with milk and take it to Bethany.”
“I don’t let the children drink coffee. Except when they’re drunk,” she amended. “The caffeine’s bad for them.”
Boone flashed her a winsome smile. “If I were you, I’d make an exception this time. Unless, of course, you want her thinking she has to get potted in order to sample it.”
Upstairs, Bethany didn’t have much to say—just sat there on her bed, sipping coffee—so he chatted about a little of this, a little of that. She answered his questions with a nod or shake of the head. Anything else he asked was met with a sullen shrug. It was only when he mentioned the new kitten, Stormy, that she gave him more than a one-word response.
“Stormy is an intruder in Precious’ domain,” the girl said, quoting her mother. “He has to be kept in the utility room to keep from being attacked.” She paused a moment as if something had just occurred to her. “There are enough animals in this family for us to love. We didn’t need any more.”
Boone had a suspicion she was talking about human animals, too, but he didn’t take the bait. “If you don’t want Stormy, I can put an ad in my paper and try to find him a new home.”
She looked up from her cup. “Mom said we should wait a while to see if Precious will learn to accept him. But I don’t think she will,” she added fatalistically. “Precious knows I love her, and she doesn’t want to share me with anyone else.”
Boone stood and patted the girl on the knee. “Give her some time. She’ll come around.”
As he left the room, he saw that she was shaking her head. Was she referring to Stormy or to herself?
Downstairs, he found that Brad was up and around. The boy was standing by the bird cage, burping for all he was worth. The bird roamed free on top of the cage and seemed more than mildly interested in the strange noises coming from its owner. Nixie strode into the room with another cup of coffee and handed it to her son.
“If you’re going to teach Tarzan to burp,” she told the blond-haired rascal, “at least teach him to say ‘excuse me’ afterward.”
Neither had seen Boone descend the steps. He stood at the bottom, leaning against the curved handrail, watching them … and enjoying what he saw. This family obviously loved each other, accepting the personality quirks of each without question. Boone liked that Nixie didn’t try to shame her son into using better manners. She merely accepted that he was being playful, and she was willing to compromise.
That attitude was totally different from his ex-wife’s. Cheryl had come into their marriage with expectations that opposed Boone’s in almost every way. She hadn’t wanted children, for instance. That was the big one.
As for the other things, Boone probably could have lived with them. Such as her compulsion about having a spotless house at all times. He’d never forget the time he tracked in mud after a touch football game with the neighborhood teens. Or the time he suggested they go canoeing. She’d just had her hair and nails done, she reminded him, and she had no desire to wallow in a dirty river with fish and bugs and snakes.
Even that he could have lived with. But they both knew their marriage was doomed the day he brought home half a dozen Scouts for their first weekly den meeting. He’d been so excited about starting a Scouting group where there had previously been none, and he was enthusiastic about making a positive impact on the young lives.
When he’d explained to Cheryl how much Scouting had helped him grow emotionally and become more confident, he’d been sure she would accept their presence for an hour and a half each week.
But she hadn’t. While Boone was still glowing over the success of his first den meeting, Cheryl had insisted that he not bring “those noisy little brats” back to their home.
And now, here was Nixie, tolerating her son’s disgusting noises with an amused smile. This was a close and loving family, and Boone wanted to be part of it.
After his conversation with Bethany, though, he knew he’d have to tread softly.
He stepped into the living room. “Are you feeling better, Brad?”
“A little. Mom said the juice must not have been very potent if I bounced back this quick.” He put emphasis on the word potent, as if he liked using what he considered an adult word.
“Glad to hear it,” Boone said and smiled at Nixie. He was also glad to see that she smiled back at him. Maybe she wouldn’t hold the incident against him after all.
“Hey, Mom,” said Brad, “can I cook my breakfast tomorrow morning? Boone says I make some mean scrambled eggs.”
She glanced again at Boone before answering. “We’ll see,” she said noncommittally.
“And Boone has this Scout pin that he’s had since the olden days when he was a kid!”
“It’s not exactly antique,” Boone said with a grin, “but it is old. Here, you can wear it until I leave, if you want. Just don’t lose it.” He took it off and handed it to the boy, who turned the metal ornament over in his hands and admired the piece.
“I’m going to take Tarzan up to my room,” he announced. “He likes to play with my toys.” And then he was gone.
Nixie watched her son’s departure. He took the steps a little more slowly than usual, but she was relieved to see that he hadn’t been strongly affected by the fermented juice. She would have never forgiven herself if he’d had more than the mild reaction he’d suffered.
When she turned her attention back to her guest, she was unnerved to find him studying her. She wondered if he thought Brad was crude for burping at the bird. It must certainly reflect poorly on the way she was bringing up her son. And Boone certainly had opinions about other areas of the boy’s upbringing.
“He’s not usually that rude,” she ventured. “I do teach the children good manners.”
“It shows,” he agreed. “They’re good kids.”
Nixie looked up at the handsome man who was now absentmindedly jiggling the bell hanging from Tarzan’s cage. She wasn’t surprised that her son was fond of him. She worried, though, that Brad might become too attached to him and get hurt. After all, there was no guarantee that he’d stay in Bliss. Or even that he wouldn’t meet someone nice, fall in love, get married, and have a family of his own.
For some inexplicable reason, that last thought made her uneasy. If he did get married and drop out of their lives, Brad wouldn’t be the only one hurt.
Nixie was amazed at how quickly Boone had found a place in their family … and in their hearts. She had always been fond of him, even when he had tormented her with his endless teasing. And though she tried to deny it, she’d missed him when he moved away from Bliss after graduating from high school.
Maybe that was why she’d fallen so head over heels for Paul and married him shortly after they’d finished school. Her friends had told her Paul reminded them of Boone. She hadn’t seen it then, but now she finally admitted that her husband’s blond good looks and his gentle teasing were what had turned her head. The very qualities that had annoyed her in Boone.
To her, it had seemed as though Boone’s looks were merely a tool for attracting girls, for he certainly must have had a black book chock-full of names. And although his teasing had been tiresome at the time, it had pleased her to be the focus of his attention.
To be truthful, Nixie liked having Boone back in her life. Although he still frustrated her with his joking and needling, Nixie found that she was becoming less resentful of his intrusion into the family’s affairs and more eager to see him during his frequent visits.
Not that she was taking his overtures too seriously. She was well aware that even though he’d practically knocked her socks off last night, it had most likely been little more than a mild flirtation to him.
Even so, she couldn’t keep from blurting out, “Bethany’s ballet recital is next Saturday. Would you like to come along?”
Boone let go of the bird’s toy. “Me? Go to Bethany’s ballet?”
“If you’re not interested, that’s okay. I just thought I’d ask.” She should have known better than to ask a jock to accompany her to a children’s ballet recital.
“I’m interested,” he quickly asserted. “It’s just that Bethany seems a bit out of sorts with me. I don’t know if she’d want me there.”
“Don’t mind Bethany. She’s just gearing up for her teenage rebellion.”
“Then I’ll be there with bells on.”
He smiled, and the simple gesture warmed Nixie to her toes.
If she’d had even the slightest inkling that their kiss beside the car had meant something to Boone, that thought was thoroughly dispelled the next week when he showed up with three more “applications.”
This time she didn’t leave the room but stayed and acted interested in seeing who wanted to court her. If Boone could kiss and forget, then she would, too. Or, at least, pretend to.
“Change your mind about meeting someone through a personals ad?” Boone asked as she sat on the couch beside him. Brad was perched on his knee, and Bethany sat close enough to scan the printed emails over his shoulder as he read them aloud.
“Curious,” she responded, “just like you and the kids.”
He gave her a sidelong look that let her know quite clearly he was suspicious of her change in attitude.
“Come on,” Bethany urged. “Read.”
“Yeah,” Nixie prompted. “The man of my dreams could be in one of those emails.”
When he took his time unfolding the first, Nixie snatched the small bundle from his hand. “We don’t have all year. I’m not getting any younger, you know.” She grinned to see the surprised look on his face. “If I’m going to meet these guys, I want to do it before I’m an old maid.”
She cleared her throat and began reading the first letter. It rambled at length about his career and hobbies. Not exciting, but not a turnoff, either. It ended, “I’m a firm believer in marriage. My third wife left me last month, and I want to try again.”
“Well,” Boone piped up, “he certainly has plenty of experience for the job.”
“Experience at being a husband,” Bethany said. “But does he have experience at being a daddy?”
Brad grabbed the letter and balled it up, mimicking Boone’s action from the last time. “I vote no on this one.”
Thank goodness! Nixie had been half afraid her son would overlook the man’s failure at marriage in favor of his interest in car racing.
The next two were no better. One said he thought animals were great, but since he was highly allergic, they would have to stay outside. That was enough to dissuade the children from considering him a possibility.
The last one wanted to know Nixie’s career and income level. He had accrued some debts and reasoned the best way to pay them off would be to add another paycheck—Nixie’s.
Nixie carried the letters to the trash can and dropped them in. She’d been relieved that all the letter writers had obvious flaws. Even though she’d pretended an interest in learning about the candidates, she would have had a hard time explaining to her children why she wouldn’t want to meet a stranger who happened to fit their qualifications.
Coming back to the den, she reminded her family that this was the reason she’d been against the idea of the ad in the first place. “Anyone who’s good enough to be your daddy is probably already taken,” she added. “Now let’s go. Uncle Jay and Aunt Lauren are going to meet us at the restaurant before the recital. We’d best not keep them waiting.”
As it turned out, Boone, Nixie, and the children had to wait for Uncle Jay and Aunt Lauren. Boone made the waitress giggle when he asked for a child’s placemat for himself, then colored the cartoon characters and worked the math puzzles with the children. They seemed to enjoy having him join their fun, and Nixie was pleased to see that Bethany had dropped her sullen attitude. Nixie was glad she’d talked her daughter into wearing the ballet-slipper necklace Boone had given her. He’d noticed it right away and commented how it couldn’t do justice to her own sparkling beauty.
The Thomases had come to this restaurant before, but with Boone here, their group now seemed complete. It would have been like this if Paul had lived, Nixie thought.
With a small shake of her head, she realized it wouldn’t have been the same. Paul had stayed so busy with work, he had seldom made time for family outings. She wondered if they would still be married now. Would the tiny hill of dissension his workaholism had created in their marriage have eventually grown into a mountain too tall for either to overcome?
She looked across the table at Boone sitting hunched over the paper placemat. His every move was being copied by Brad. He must have noticed it, too, for he stuck his tongue out one side of his mouth as if in concentration. Brad copied that. When Boone picked up his glass of soda and took a sip, Brad reached for his milk and stopped.
“Milk is for babies,” he told Boone. “Mind if I have some of yours?”
“Sure,” Boone told him, passing the glass. “Just don’t get any backwash in my drink—”
Brad grinned and put the glass to his lips.
“—because I don’t want it mixing with my backwash.”
The boy sputtered, and lemon-lime soda went down the front of his shirt.
“Psyched you out,” Boone said and handed him a napkin.
Nixie and Bethany handed over their napkins, as well. They shared a look that only mothers and daughters understand. Nixie looked up to find Boone watching them.
“What?” he asked. “At least we weren’t playing gross-out.”
Bethany giggled. “Last time we played that, Mom sent us to our rooms. She said it’s dangerous to laugh while you’re eating because you could choke. Right, Mom?”
Before Nixie could answer, Uncle Jay and Aunt Lauren joined them, filling the remaining two seats at the table.
The waitress took the food orders for all of them, and Nixie was surprised to see Bethany take off the satin-slipper necklace and tuck it into her purse.
What was worse, Boone had seen it, too.