Counting Stars (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Saturday morning Pete awoke to noise from outside. He looked out the bedroom window and was pleased to see the gate ajar and Jane pulling privacy slats from the fence. He hurriedly dressed to join her.

Walking into the backyard a few moments later, Pete headed toward the open gate. Stepping into the yard, he watched as Jane wrestled with a particularly stubborn PVC slat. Shania Twain’s voice carried across the lawn from the CD player on the porch. Pete smiled to himself as he watched Jane sing along to “Man, I Feel Like a Woman.”

Yeah, you look like a woman too,
he thought, admiring her curves as she pulled at the top of the fence. She had on jeans today instead of the baggy sweats she’d worn last night, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wished she’d wear it down. He’d always had a thing for women who wore their hair up. There was something about a woman’s bare neck. And right now that was the last thing he wanted—to feel any pull of attraction toward
this
woman. Things were complicated enough already.

Pete walked along the fence toward her.

Jane glanced over at him. “You gonna help me with these?”

Pete shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “It depends on what you’re doing. If you’re planning to replace the PVC with brick or something . . .”

“I’m
trying
to make amends,” Jane said. “You know, good fences make good neighbors, so bad fences must make bad neighbors.” She stopped working and looked at him. “And I don’t want that. I’m taking the privacy slats out, and I already got rid of the lock on the gate. So will you help?”

Pete tried to suppress his grin. “Am I allowed? Didn’t I mess up pretty badly yesterday? Something about concrete and a bush?”

Jane let go of the slat and tugged off her gloves. “Come here. I’ll show you.” She walked to the center of the yard and stood between the posts Pete had installed. “See this?” She pointed to the large shrub growing a few feet behind. “This lilac was trimmed back in the fall, but already it’s starting to get buds. Pretty soon the whole tree will be covered with these.” She pinched a cluster between her fingers. “And when they open up, this entire yard will be fragrant. Of course, the lavender color is also beautiful, but it’s the fragrance I’ll miss.”

Pete looked confused. “Why miss it? The posts aren’t anywhere near
.”

“But the swings,” Jane protested. “The swings will hit.” She moved between the posts, walking front and back in the path a swing would take.

“Well, maybe eventually they’ll hit, but it will be awhile before the twins go that high. I see your point though,” Pete admitted. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the easiest place to watch the kids.”

“And that is more important,” Jane agreed. “I know I shouldn’t be so upset. It’s just that I’m a yard person. You know, some women have the, ‘stay out of my kitchen’ philosophy. Well, for me it’s, ‘don’t mess with my yard.’”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Pete said.

“But today you
can
help,” she added quickly. “I thought these slats were a pain to put in, but they’re so much worse to take out.”

Pete walked over to the fence, examining the slats and chain link. Putting his palm on one of the metal posts, he leaned forward. The entire fence bent under his weight. “Thought so,” he said, turning to Jane. “How about we leave the slats in and just take down the whole fence?”

She looked doubtful. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m just renting.”

“From the Reimans?” Pete asked.

Jane nodded. “How did you know?”

“They lived here the whole time I was growing up. They put the gate in the fence so their son and I could go back and forth between houses.”

“That’s your house?” She looked toward the sagging fence and the house behind it. “You
own
it?”

“Pretty much. Mom left it to Paul and me when she died. A couple of years ago Paul planned to purchase some property and build on it, so he mailed me the deed to our house.”

“I can’t believe this.” Jane put her hands on her hips. “What a sneaky, underhanded thing to do.”

“What do you mean?” Pete asked warily, sensing she was headed for a mood like she’d been in last night.

“Paul did this,” Jane said, as if just fully realizing the implications. “He found this house for us to rent, and
I
didn’t want to live here. I didn’t like the neighborhood, and the house and yard were in terrible shape—all I’ve done since we moved in is paint, clean, fix . . .”

“I don’t understand,” Pete said.

“He tricked me,” Jane continued. “He made me feel terrible for not wanting this place. He said it was perfect because it was close to the hospital and we’d always be able to get Mark there quickly if there was an emergency.”

“Well, that is true,” Pete said.

“Yes, but he said nothing,
nothing
at all about
you
living behind us. He never told me that was the house he’d grown up in or that you would come back there. And I remember—” Jane snapped her fingers. “I remember having a conversation about the sagging fence and gate and wanting to get them replaced, but Paul said no. He told me the owners wanted it kept the way it was.” She began pacing back and forth between the swing-set posts. “Which really made no sense, because they let us fix everything else. They even took a big chunk off our rent because we were doing so much to the house.” She stopped suddenly. “Oooh. I could just—”

“Kill him if he weren’t already dead?” Pete said quietly.

Jane’s head snapped up. The look on her face was a mixture of horror and shame. “No. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Pete walked over to her. “You think I didn’t feel the exact same thing when I found out that Paul had died, that he’d left two
children
—children I didn’t even know existed—to me? I didn’t even know he had cancer.” Pete ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said lamely. She folded her arms across her chest and looked down at the grass. Her head was still swimming with the implications of what Paul had done. He’d set them up perfectly for . . . for joint guardianship? She hoped that was all he’d intended. So far his brother was nothing like she’d imagined. He was a little bit Paul, and a whole lot a stranger still, yet they were thrown into the awkwardness of having these serious conversations and figuring out how to share two children. She looked up at Pete, voicing the questions that had been on her mind for months. “What happened between you two? How come you didn’t know Paul had cancer?”

Pete’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t tell you?”

Jane shook her head. “He hardly ever mentioned you. It made me sad,” she admitted. “I have six brothers and sisters, and I’m fairly close with all of them.”

“Then you’re very lucky,” Pete said.

“I know.” Jane looked down at the grass again, digging at a weed with the toe of her sneaker. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.” She heard Pete sigh.

“Maybe some other time when—”

Madison’s cry on the baby monitor interrupted them, saving him from continuing.

When we know each other better?
Jane thought.
Will
we know each other better?
“How about breakfast?” she asked, pulling the monitor out of her pocket. “Or have you already eaten?” she added, giving him a way out if he wanted.

“I haven’t eaten yet.” Pete glanced at his watch. “It’s only 6:45. Do you always get up so early?”

“Usually.” Jane bent down to pull the weed. “I like to come out in the quiet and work in the yard. It’s one of my favorite times of the day. I guess you could say I’m a morning person.” She stood again and began to walk toward the house. “What about you?”

“Night owl,” Pete said, following her. “Though the military has done its best to change that. But normally I prefer to stay up late. I enjoy being outside then.”

“What do you do outside at night? Do you have a garage you like to putter in or—?”

“Stars,” Pete said. “I really enjoy watching the stars. I have a great telescope.”

“Oh,” Jane said, remembering fondly the times she’d sat on the roof of her cottage and counted the stars on clear nights. “I can see how that would be enjoyable too.” She reached the sliding glass door and opened it.

“You’ll have to wait a bit for breakfast,” she warned. “Around here it’s babies first, then grown-ups. Come on in and you can earn your food.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Hello, handsome,” Jane said, scooping Mark from his crib. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to the other crib, where Madison stood babbling as she clung to the bars.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Jane used her free hand to lift Madison. She turned to Pete. “Okay, pick one.”

“Umm—is there a right or wrong choice here?” He looked at the twins. “What are we doing?”

“Changing diapers,” Jane said with a smile. “First thing in the morning both babies need to be changed. And, as you can guess by the smell, at least one of them is more than wet.”

Pete looked at them warily. “Which one?”

“Don’t know,” Jane said. “You’ve got fifty-fifty odds, though—unless they’re both stinky.” Her smile broadened.

Pete rubbed his hands together. He looked at Mark and Madison. “All right, guys—and girls—sorry, Madison. Actually, you know, I think I’d better start with Mark first. I’m a little more familiar with the anatomy.”

Jane laughed. “I understand. You can use the changing table.”

Pete took Mark and laid him on the table. He watched as Jane put a blanket on the floor, laid Madison on it, and grabbed a diaper from the shelf. Kneeling beside the blanket, Jane began unsnapping Madison’s sleeper. Pete looked back at Mark.

“Maybe, for this first time, I’d better get some coaching over here.”

“One second. I’ll be right there.”

Pete watched carefully as Jane unfastened the diaper, folded it down, wiped Madison, and slid a clean diaper under her. She had Madison’s new diaper on, her pajamas snapped up, and the whole process complete in less than a minute.

Pete whistled. “You’re fast.”

Jane tossed the diaper in a pail next to the changing table and squirted some hand sanitizer on her palms. She gave Madison a toy and stood. “Ready?”

Pete rubbed his hands together. “Ready.”
How hard could it be?
He unsnapped Mark’s pajamas and pulled them up, out of the way like he’d seen Jane do.
So far so good.
He reached for the Velcro fasteners on the diaper.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jane said.

“How come?” Pete asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Little boys are a bit different. The air hits their—their . . . The air hits them and they start to go.”

Pete’s eyebrows rose. “So what you’re saying is—”

“Just have another diaper open and ready to cover him up in case he squirts,” Jane said quickly.

“You speak from experience,” Pete said, unable to hide his amusement at her word choice. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one feeling a little out of his comfort zone.

Jane pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes, and let me tell you, it
hurts
when you get hit in the eye.”

“Good to know.” Pete turned his attention back to Mark. “All right. Open and ready.” Pete pulled a diaper from the shelf and began unfolding it.

“Uh-uh.” Jane took it from him. “This is Maddie’s. See the pink edging?”

“Well, yeah, but does it really matter? I mean, we live in a society where women serve right beside men in the military. So what’s the big deal with diaper color? Can’t Maddie wear a blue diaper and Mark wear pink?” Pete frowned as he continued in mock seriousness. “Is this really what we want to teach these children? Don’t you want Maddie to feel she can do anything—even wear blue diapers?”

Jane folded her arms across her chest and suppressed a grin. “Go ahead,” she urged, waving Pete on. “Put the pink one on. But you’re the one who gets to change Mark’s clothes and the crib bedding and do all the laundry when his diaper leaks.”

Pete, his hand on the Velcro of Mark’s diaper, stopped. “What do you mean?”

“The diapers are different,” Jane said. “Boys are different than girls. The diapers are padded differently based on where the absorption is needed.”

“Really?” Pete asked. He looked at the diaper, impressed. “I didn’t know.”

“Now if you’d like to lobby the diaper companies to change their color scheme to include pinks and purples for boys and maybe reds and blues for girls, feel free to do so. In the meantime, the pink and blue trim keeps things pretty simple. Not to mention that Madison is wearing a size larger than Mark right now.”

Without a word, Pete put the pink diaper back on the shelf and took a blue one. He unfolded it and laid it aside, ready to grab it should he need to.

“Okay. Here goes.” He unfastened the tabs on both sides and peeled back the diaper. “Well, hey. That’s quite a mess there.” He quickly pulled the diaper back up and turned his face aside. “Now what?”

“Now you wipe
everything
off.” Jane walked toward the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” Pete called, trying not to sound too anxious. “I mean, come on, if I can’t even figure out the right diaper to use, I should probably have you demonstrate—”

“You’ll be fine,” Jane said. “Just make sure to use plenty of wipes and sprinkle some powder on him when you’re through.”

Pete began pulling wipes from the dispenser. When he had a good-sized wad in his hand, he peeled back the diaper again.

Jane stood in the doorway trying not to laugh. “It’s usually more effective if you use one at a time. Otherwise, you’ll go through the whole box at one changing.”

Pete shook several of the wipes out of his hand. “This
looks
like it’s going to take a whole box,” he muttered.

“Good luck,” Jane called. “I’m going to get the twins’ breakfast ready. Bring them to the kitchen when you’re done.” She paused in the hall and turned back. “Oh, and Peter—”

“Yes?”

“Mark always has a messy diaper first thing in the morning.”

* * *

“Where do you want them?” Pete asked somewhat grumpily as he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, a twin in each arm.

“In the high chairs. Mark needs to sit in the one with all the rolled-up towels.” Jane stood at the counter, mashing something in a bowl. “Everything go okay?”

“Fine. It only took me five tries to line up the snaps right on Mark’s pajamas. How come they design baby clothes to be so confusing? Whoever heard of pants that snap all the way down to your foot?”

Jane laughed. “I never thought of it that way.”

“What’s on the menu?” Pete asked. He walked to the breakfast nook and tried putting Madison in her seat. The tray was pushed in too far though, and he couldn’t figure out how to get it off without putting one of the twins down. Reluctantly, he asked for help again. “Jane, could you come here a minute?”

She wiped her hands on a towel, walked across the kitchen, and took Madison from Pete. “Observe,” she said, putting her free hand behind her back. “With practice, many things can be done while holding babies.” Balancing Madison on her hip and putting her arm around her, Jane bent over and used the same hand to spring the tray loose. “Now you try,” she said, nodding to Mark’s high chair.

Pete put one hand behind his back, secured Mark with his other arm and tried to unlock the tray. It wouldn’t budge. Mark began sliding down Pete’s leg.

“It’s okay,” Jane said as she buckled Madison into her chair. “It takes practice, and women do have better hips for the job.” She walked over and unlatched Mark’s tray.

“It would seem I can’t do anything right,” Pete grumbled.

“Oh don’t say that,” Jane said brightly. “You haven’t tried feeding them yet.” She went into the kitchen and returned with two bowls. “Mashed bananas with rice cereal for Mark.” She handed the bowl to Pete. “And Maddie can feed herself banana slices and Cheerios for a few minutes.” Jane put the other bowl on Maddie’s tray. “If you’ll supervise here, then I’ll go make french toast for us.”

Pete looked at the bowl of mashed banana and cereal. It didn’t look very appetizing, and he imagined Mark would feel the same way. “Any tips?” Pete asked hopefully.

“Airplane noises and small bites,” Jane called as she returned to the kitchen.

Pete picked up the spoon. “Airplane, huh?” he asked. “How about a helicopter, Mark? Those are more fun.” Pete dug the spoon in and began twirling it around in his fingers, making a whirring noise. Mark’s eyes followed the motion, and after a few seconds Pete flew the bite into Mark’s open mouth. Surprisingly, he ate it. Encouraged, Pete tried another “helicopter” bite and got the same results. Remembering to keep the spoonfuls small, he continued feeding Mark, and in a few minutes’ time the entire mashed concoction was gone. Pete looked over at Madison and winked. “I think we’ve got this one down,” he whispered.

He turned around in his chair to watch Jane. She stood at the stove with her back to him, flipping french toast. She’d brought the CD player in from the patio, and Shania was still singing. This song he was less familiar with—something about a woman not being impressed by money, nice cars, or Brad Pitt. Curious, he listened as he watched Jane gather the syrup, butter, plates, and silverware and bring everything to the table.

“So if movie stars, rocket scientists, and nice cars don’t impress, what does?” he asked.

“Hmm . . .” Jane considered as she set the table. “I’m not sure.”

“There must be something,” Pete coaxed.

Jane returned to the stove and took the last of the french toast from the skillet.

“I really don’t know.” On the way back to the table, she grabbed a carton of orange juice and a half-eaten jar of baby food from the fridge. “Maybe nothing does. Maybe that’s why I’m single.”

“Ever been married?” Pete asked.

“No. You?” Jane set the plate of steaming bread in front of him.

Pete shook his head. “Never.”
Engaged once,
he could have added but chose not to. He used his fork to take a piece of bread from the plate. “This looks great. My mom used to make french toast on really thick bread like this.”

“Texas toast,” Jane said. “I grew up with it too. Good stuff.” She reached for the butter, then stopped, seeing Mark’s empty bowl. “He ate it
all?
” she asked, astonished.

Pete grinned. “Every bite.”

Jane got up and walked over to the high chair. She made a point of looking in Mark’s hair, under his chin, beneath his bib, and at his lap. Finding nothing, she folded her arms and smiled at Pete.

“Now
that
impresses me.”