Yesterday's Embers (18 page)

She was a newlywed. She shouldn’t feel sad.

T
hree fat robins sat on the fence showing off their bright red breasts. Mickey yanked another handful of dry leaves from underneath the rosebushes and stuffed it into the garbage bag. She was a newlywed. She shouldn’t feel sad. But she hated leaving this place behind. More than she’d expected. Not so much the house as her garden spot. For the last five years, she’d poured her heart into this quarter acre of earth. It had been her sanctuary, her creative outlet…the place she came to think and pray. All winter she’d looked forward to spring when the garden she’d created would flourish again. And now she was leaving it behind, right when things were springing to life.

They hadn’t even listed the house with a realtor yet, and already they had a prospect for a renter. Wren Johannsen had told Doug that Meg Ashlock’s sister and
her husband were moving to Clayburn and needed a place to live. Even though it didn’t make good financial sense, Mickey liked the rental option much better.

All along she’d talked to Doug about keeping up the garden, coming here after work each night. He’d never argued with her, but by his silence, she could tell he wasn’t too hot on the idea.

But working out here, imagining what it would be like to come here with someone else living in the house, she realized why Doug had been so noncommittal. She saw now that it probably wouldn’t work—not only because she’d have to bring the kids with her, but she wouldn’t have access to the sinks or even the garage, and it would be awkward for everyone. Who wanted their landlord working in their yard almost every evening spring through fall? And that’s what it took to keep the garden looking its best.

Besides, half the pleasure of working in the garden was sitting there for a few minutes every evening enjoying the fruits of her handiwork. If the house were rented, it would be someone else enjoying the beauty of the garden, while she did all the work.

She stuffed another handful of leaves and debris into the bag. Doug thought she was over here packing her things, deciding what furniture and decorative items she wanted to move to his house. Instead, she was out here mourning over the fact that gardens weren’t moveable. She tried to take comfort in Doug’s promise that she could have all the garden space she wanted at his place. “Bring your flowerpots,” he’d said. “You can fill the front porch with flowers.” Somehow it was hard to imagine her elegant pots on the farmhouse porch that was always cluttered with bicycles and skates, and overrun by a trio of dogs and a quartet of cats that, unlike well-mannered Sasha, would be all too happy to eat the tops off her flowers the minute they bloomed, and turn her potting soil into kitty litter. Besides, if they decided to sell her house instead of rent it, the pots would help make her house look appealing.

She heard the phone ringing inside. That would be Doug, wonder
ing if she was ready for him to come and take a load to his place—
their
place. It was tempting not to answer.

She
wasn’t
ready. For a desperate moment she was tempted to tell him she’d decided to keep her house. That way she—they—would have a quiet sanctuary to come to when things at his house got too wild.

But that made no financial sense. The daycare paid her barely enough to make her mortgage payment, pay the utility bills, and keep the pantry stocked. Combining her income with Doug’s would allow them to do some work on his house. And boy, did it need some work.

Until she’d slept there last night, showered and dressed in the tiny master bathroom this morning, she hadn’t realized how rundown the place was. She was eager to roll up her sleeves and get things organized, put her own touches on the house. But first the place needed a good cleaning.

The phone kept ringing. Sighing, she dragged the trash bag behind her, depositing it by the garage before she went inside.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe. How’s it going?”

“Slow. I…kind of got sidetracked in the garden.”

“Oh. Well, are you ready for me to come over there yet? I don’t want to leave the kids too late at Wren’s.”

She heard the impatience in his voice and felt guilty that she was delaying him. He’d taken another day off of work to help her move some things out of her house. “You can go ahead and come now. I’ve got a few things ready to go. I can get the rest some other night this week—or next weekend.”

“I don’t want to make twenty trips. If you’re not ready, just say so.” Now it sounded as if he were speaking through a clenched jaw.

“I’m ready.” It was an effort to keep the defensive tone out of her voice. “It won’t take long to load stuff up.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes then.”

She hung up and looked around her tidy little house, mentally making a list of things she wanted to take to Doug’s. She hurried back to the bedroom and opened the dresser drawers, and threw some clothes into a suitcase.

Sasha sauntered into the room with a plaintive meow. She obviously sensed something unusual was going on—or she was unhappy with being left over the weekend. Mickey ran a hand over Sasha’s silky calico coat and cooed reassurance. The cat arched her back to match Mickey’s strokes.

“It’ll be okay, kitty. We’re going on an adventure.” She zipped up her bags and put them on the floor. At Doug’s house last night, she’d unpacked her bags from their “honeymoon,” so her makeup and toiletries were already there.

When she started dumping the contents of the vanity drawers into a box, Sasha slithered underneath the bed skirt. Mickey worried about how her cat would adjust to life in a new home. At least all the DeVore animals were of the outdoor variety.

Tonight they’d pick up the kids from Wren’s. Mickey had missed them more than she expected to. At the same time she was nervous about what her role would be once they were all living under the same roof. Except for Kayeleigh, the kids seemed to adore her, and they’d always minded her just as if they were at the daycare.

Kayeleigh was another story. Since she and Doug had announced their plans to marry last week, Kayeleigh had gone from studied indifference toward Mickey to outright hostility. Doug kept it tempered, but what would it be like when he wasn’t there?

She hauled the two suitcases to the front door so they’d be ready for Doug to load, then went to the kitchen and tossed food from the pantry and the refrigerator into boxes. It wouldn’t go to waste at Doug’s house. In fact, the thought of grocery shopping for a family of seven was enough to make her quake in her shoes.

She heard Doug’s truck pull in to the driveway and ran back to the
bathroom to check her hair. She didn’t want to be one of those wives who let herself go once the ring was on her finger.

That thought reminded her that she’d taken her rings off to work in the garden. She went to retrieve them from the little dish by the kitchen sink. Doug knocked before letting himself in the unlocked front door.

He planted a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. “This stuff ready to go?”

“Yes, but don’t you want to put the big stuff in first?”

“What big stuff?”

“Well, I thought I’d bring a couple of chairs and maybe that end table.” She pointed in the direction of the living room.

He appeared not to hear her. He hefted a bag in each hand and carted them out to the pickup.

“Well, nice to see you, too,” she said to the empty room. She lugged the end table from beside the sofa to the door. It would make a good nightstand in the master bedroom at Doug’s. She racked her brain to remember what else she’d thought of bringing when she walked through the farmhouse this morning. Drawing a blank, she rolled up two throw rugs to hide the worn spots in the living room carpet at the farmhouse. That done, she collected some of her favorite decorative items off the top of the bookcase, just so Doug wouldn’t think he’d wasted a trip.

He came back in, and she pointed to the hodgepodge pile she’d assembled by the front door.

“This is what you want to take?”

She nodded, growing irritated with his tone.

He propped his fists on his hips. “Mickey, where are we going to put this stuff? You think we can fit all this in my house?”

What was this? A few minutes ago he’d been harping because he wanted to be sure to have enough stuff to fill the pickup. She pasted on a smile and tried to keep her voice light. “
Your
house?”

Again he ignored her comment, as if he hadn’t heard her.

Her temper simmered on its way to a boil. She forced herself to count to ten. “We can always bring stuff back if we don’t need it.”

He shrugged and bent to collect an armful. “What’s this?” He held up the pet carrier.

“It’s for Sasha. For in the car.”

“You’re bringing her tonight?”

“Well, I don’t want to leave her here alone again.”

He set the carrier back on the floor. “Don’t you think we’re going to have enough adjustments without throwing a cat into the mix?”

“But she was alone all weekend.”

“Exactly. And she was fine. What’s one more night? She’s got food and water. You can stop by in the morning and check on her if you think you need to.”

“It’s just…she’s not used to being left alone for so long.”

He gave a dismissing wave. “Suit yourself. Seems like it would be better to wait until we get used to a routine before we try to fit a cat into the chaos.”

“Doug, she won’t be any trouble. She’ll probably go hide under the bed for a couple of days anyway and—”

“You mean under the porch?”

“Doug, we already talked about that.” He’d been hinting that he didn’t want Sasha in the house, but that was one thing she was going to put her foot down about. Sasha wouldn’t survive a night against those tough farm cats.

Without a reply he nudged the carrier out of the way with the toe of his boot and gripped the end table with both hands. Propping it against one thigh, he shoved the door open with his hip.

Mickey went to hold the door for him. He brushed past with his back to her and carried the table out to the pickup.

Before he came back for the next load, she unplugged two lamps and added them to the pile, just for spite. This was not a good way to start a marriage, but he was being a jerk, and right now she wasn’t in the mood to concede anything.

She had to keep reminding herself that this would be an adjustment for all of them.

Y
eeooowwrrlll!”
Sasha shot off the sofa and lit down the hall in a streak of calico.

“Sorry, Mickey! Sorry! I didn’t mean to…” Landon spoke through hands clapped over his mouth and eyes as round as marble shooters.

“What happened?”

“I sorta accidentally sat on her.”

Mickey felt her adrenaline spike, but she forced herself to remain calm. “It’s okay, buddy. It was an accident.” She was glad Doug was outside so she didn’t have to listen to his I-told-you-so.

But just then the back door slammed, and Doug yelled a word Mickey was pretty sure the kids weren’t allowed to use. She jumped up and went running. “What happened?”

“That”—he gritted his teeth—
“cat.”

Mickey could see he was working hard to rein in his temper. “What happened?”

“She just about broke my neck, that’s what. I opened the door, and she ran out and I tripped over her.”

Mickey gasped. “She got out?” She looked past Doug to the yard. The sun was settling onto the horizon, and it would be dark in a few minutes. “You mean she’s still out there? Why didn’t you get her?”

He shot her a look of disdain. “You mean besides the fact that I was trying to keep from breaking my neck?”

Mickey let out a growl of her own and flew out the door, calling for Sasha. “Here kitty, kitty…”

Doug followed and came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “She’ll be fine, Mick. Just leave her be. She’ll come back when she gets hungry.”

She shrugged out from under his touch and answered between clenched teeth. “She doesn’t have claws, Doug. She can’t defend herself out here. She can’t even climb a tree to get away from the dogs.”

“The dogs are penned up. Come on in. She’ll come back. You’re not going to find her in the dark.”

Mickey swallowed back tears. She should have listened to Doug and left Sasha at home, where she was safe. If the dogs didn’t get her—or coyotes—Sasha would be lucky to survive two days at this madhouse with Landon sitting on her and Harley yanking her tail.

She waved Doug away. “Go on in. I’m going to try to find her.”

“Fine.” Behind her the back screen door slammed.

For the next twenty minutes she circled Doug’s acreage and walked around the barn calling for Sasha. She’d heard Doug warn the kids not to go in the old barn, saying it was unstable. That was probably exactly where Sasha was hiding, but she didn’t respond to Mickey’s voice. By the time she got back to the farmhouse, the DeVores’ four outdoor cats were trailing her like rats after the Pied Piper, but still no sign of Sasha.

Peering into the dusk, she scanned the horizon one more time, then
looked up into the night sky. “God, please help me find her. Don’t let anything happen to her.” Doug would think she was silly praying for a cat, but she didn’t care.

She went back into the house with her head down, leaving the door ajar so she could hear Sasha through the screen if she came back.

Doug had turned off the TV and was trying to get the kids organized for what Kayeleigh said her mom called a “cleaning spree.” Kayeleigh seemed determined to bring up “how Mom did it” at every opportunity. And so far Mickey hadn’t done anything “how Mom did it”…in other words, Mickey couldn’t do anything right.

She was trying not to be too fussy, but Doug and the kids had supposedly cleaned the house before she moved in. If that were true, she was glad she hadn’t seen the “before” photos. She hated to start out their marriage nagging, but she couldn’t live this way. She’d mustered up as much tact as she could find and asked Doug if they could take this evening, as a family, to do some deep cleaning. The kids had griped when he announced the plan, but then they wouldn’t be normal kids if they got excited about housework. And Doug seemed agreeable.

She’d tried to make an event of it. Doug had grilled burgers for dinner, and together they made homemade ice cream for later, when they were finished. Earlier, when Mickey put potatoes, wrapped in foil, in the oven to bake, Kayeleigh informed her that “Mom always just butters the potatoes and puts them right on the rack to bake.”

The filthy, crusted-over oven hinted that Kaye might have baked a lot of things that way. Mickey bit her tongue and added
clean the oven
to her project list for Saturday. At least Kayeleigh was speaking to her. After the reception she’d received when Doug announced they were getting married, she’d expected to be ignored—or worse.

She had to keep reminding herself that this would be an adjustment for all of them. And Doug and his kids had already made the most horrible of adjustments. She tried to take that into account, too.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked Doug now, keeping one ear tuned to the door for Sasha.

“Do you want to take kitchen duty?” He put an arm around her, testing, she knew. “I’m going to go out and cut a slat to fit that bed frame, then I’ll help Kayeleigh and Landon do the living room and bedrooms. We’ll keep an eye on Harley. Sound okay?”

“Um…how about if I get Sarah and Sadie on my team?” It didn’t exactly seem fair for the six of them to go off together while she slaved by herself in the kitchen.

The twins cheered and ran to claim her hands.

“Oh, sure.” Doug looked sheepish. “Didn’t mean to make the teams so lopsided.”

“I didn’t know this was a team sport.” She forced a smile and raised an eyebrow, trying to add levity to a topic that didn’t exactly feel light.

But he laughed and reached over the girls’ heads to kiss her.

“Ewww.” Landon screwed up his nose. “Could you guys not do that in here?”

“I like it when they kiss,” Sadie said. “Kiss Miss Mickey again.”

“Yeah!” Sarah echoed her twin.

“Kiss Miss Mickey! Kiss Miss Mickey!” Harley joined in the chant.

“Just don’t look, Landon.”

Grinning at Mickey, Doug moved the twins and Harley out of the way, grabbed her in a bear hug, then dipped her for a Scarlett and Rhett clench. “Close your eyes, buddy. Hurry, close your eyes. Here it comes…ewww gross…” Doug mimicked Landon and plastered another kiss on Mickey, milking it for laughs.

The three little girls cheered and Mickey giggled, extricating herself from his arms reluctantly, her spirits worlds lighter—until she caught sight of Kayeleigh leaning against the doorjamb. Arms folded over her chest, the look on the girl’s face made Mickey suspect she was remember
ing, with pain, a time when it had been her mother giggling in Doug’s embrace.

Sobered, and aching for Kayeleigh, but knowing she was not the one to comfort her, she gathered the twins, one under each arm, and pointed them in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on, you two. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”