My Heart Can't Tell You No (45 page)

The past two weeks his days had been filled with an excited expectancy, making him constantly watch the clock when he was at work. He wasted little time getting home, grabbing clothes for the next day and going up to Maddie’s. Most of the time he’d arrive a few minutes before she would, allowing Tom to leave as Joe and the boys waited for her. He was getting accustomed to her routine, starting with the heels she would kick off as she entered the house. The rest depended on where Jackie was.

It wasn’t that she was allowing the boy to run their circumstances as much as it was her consideration for the boy. Joe could understand this; sometimes it irritated him, but he did try to put up with it.

He smiled as he remembered her reaction to being touched as often as he touched her. The day Jack had come down to work on her car, and Joe had stood behind her, holding his arms around her waist as he pulled her back against him, he thought she would die of embarrassment when her father glanced at them. Throughout that day as they were sitting with the boys and he’d reach over and gently pull her over until they were touching, and later that night when they were watching television and his hand found its way to her thigh in a harmless touch. He wouldn’t even have noticed where he had placed his hand if she hadn’t jerked with surprise. It had never occurred to him that she was unaccustomed to being touched.

Finally, after the boys were in bed for the night, Joe realized that Maddie believed men, like her husband, Bob, didn’t like being touched unless it was during the most intimate of moments, or when he was asleep. Joe remembered his own marriage; touching wasn’t one of its highlights either. He could have gone, and did go, months without touching his wife’s hand. But Maddie was different. The more time he spent with her, the more he felt he couldn’t do without her. They had been separated far too long; nothing now could keep them apart.

It didn’t take Maddie long to come to him the way he knew she wanted to. Joe could see it in her eyes, the eagerness to reach out to him, an eagerness she tried to hide those first days, but soon she was showing her affection as openly as he. He remembered one particular meal they were sharing with the boys at the picnic table in her backyard; he and the boys in shorts because the humidity of the day would allow nothing else for the males, and only a thin blouse for Maddie. They were listening to Robby and Jackie discussing the bouquet of flowers they had picked for Sarah, when suddenly Maddie’s hand went under the table to Joe’s thigh. This time, he was the one to jerk with surprise and he dropped his fork. He looked over at her, but she was listening to her sons. He knew she wasn’t even aware of her intimate caress on his leg, and she continued to eat, but he was more than just aware. He should have known better actually; she always had been capable of arousing him quickly, but she had no more thought of arousing him at that moment than she did of running a marathon. He tried to continue to eat as he watched her, but the light caress of her fingertips and nails as they slid over the coarse hair on his thighs was telling him something different. Finally, when her touch was too close, and swallowing was proving to be something he had to concentrate on, he reached beneath the table and took her hand in his. She glanced over at him, then back to the boys, but after a moment she looked at him again, having seen something in his face that showed his arousal. Her smile as she looked down at her food, then back to the boys, told him she realized what her caress had done.

Joe rose from the lawn chair and called Robby inside. He had a few more things he wanted to prepare before he could go up to Maddie’s. He watched the boy obediently follow. Robby had been helping him all day; sometimes getting in his way, but most of the time eager to carry little things that could save Joe added steps and time. He marveled at the way the boy followed him around and beamed up at him as if Joe were his idol. His own son rarely showed more than a passing interest, but Joe was quick to blame that on the time he had been separated from him. Even this summer since his return to town, his weekend visits had been reduced to spending Saturdays at his ex-in-laws. Felicia would immediately come to sit with him, but the eagerness he would see in her eyes would quickly fade to a coolness that was almost snobbish. Ollie on the other hand rarely stayed with his father on his visits. Either a baseball game or swimming would take him away shortly after Joe’s arrival. But tomorrow morning he was due in town to pick up his children for their two-week visit. At first he didn’t know how he would pull it off. Felicia and Ollie were ten and nine respectively, not old enough to be left alone during the days while he was at work and he didn’t have any vacation time due to him. But when the Bakers learned of his dilemma, Tom, Sarah and Jack quickly let him know that watching four children during the day was not much harder than watching two.

By ten o’clock both boys were still awake on the floor watching television. Joe sat on the couch, with Maddie leaning against him as her long legs flowed over the cushions in the semi-darkness of the living room.

She moved slightly, sliding her fingers between his as she nestled her head against his chest. “Did you decide where Tom will be watching your children day after tomorrow?”

“Jack said he’d come down to my place in the mornings and wait until they wake up, then bring them up here for Tom.”

“What about tomorrow?” Her voice sounded quiet.

“What
about
tomorrow?”

“You’ll want to spend your time with them since you’re off work. I—don’t think it would be a good idea for you to come up here.”

“You don’t want them up here?” His question was in curiosity, he didn’t think she could actually
not
want to know his children.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Joe. When they visited you up north, did they meet your other
roommates
?”

Her question made him sigh deeply as he looked back at the boys who were still deep in the movie. “Once or twice.”

“How often?”

“Once or twice,” he offered again.

“Once or twice. What did you tell them when you introduced them?”

“What do you mean, what did I
tell
them? I told them their names and that they were living there with me.”

“I see.” She stood up and moved to the hall that lead to the bedrooms and bathroom, but when she didn’t come back soon, he got up and went to find her.

When he found no sign of her in that side of the house he realized she must have slipped through the darkness of the living room and kitchen behind him, without his knowledge, and gone outside. He opened the back door and moved through it silently, seeing the burning tip of a cigarette across the lawn near the picnic table where they had eaten that day.

“And since when did you take up smoking again?” He sat on the tabletop, down from her, sensing the distance she wanted between them.

“Since about thirty seconds ago.” She puffed on the cigarette and inhaled. “Never did like your brand, Irish. Tastes like I’m smoking a piece of cardboard.”

“And still you’re smoking it. I must have said something pretty powerful. What was it?”

“I think I’m ashamed to say exactly.” Her small laugh was forced. “I’m supposed to be an adult, Joe. Twenty-five years old, semi-successful in my career. Right now I feel like a fat fourteen-year-old instead.”

He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the middle of the table next to her, but as he lit one the flicker from his lighter showed him the tears the darkness had hidden. He slowly got to his feet and moved around until he stood in front of her. Bending slightly, he placed his hands on the tabletop on either side of her, turning her to face him. He could see the trouble she was having keeping eye contact.

“Would you like to tell me what sprouted that old seed of doubt in you again tonight?”

“Not really.”

He moved to the bench, sitting directly in front of her. She sat on the tabletop with a foot resting on either side of him.

“This has something to do with the women who lived with me for a while.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” she insisted. “It’s none of my business.”

“I wouldn’t know whose business it would be, if not yours.”

She inhaled deeply on the cigarette as she looked at him. He could sense the tears that were tightening her throat and making it impossible to speak.

“I never expected you to become a monk,” she finally got out.

“Sometimes you cut me right out of your head, little girl. You just block me out and won’t let me near you. I know something’s wrong—and you won’t tell me what the hell it is. You’re tearing me apart making me watch you like this.”

“I didn’t ask you to come out here.”

“See! You’re doing it again!” He leaned his elbows on her thighs and folded his hands in front of him, dropping his head on them in exasperation. “All right. I’m sorry. Let’s try this a different way.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “What
exactly
do you want to know about them? Ask me anything and I’ll tell you.”

“
Them
. Just how many of
them
were there?”

“That lived with me? Two.”

“Two,” she said flatly, then moved to get off the table, but his hands stopped her.

“Now where are you going?” His frustration sounded clearly in his voice.

“I’m gonna be sick—let me go!”

His hands came off of her immediately. He remembered well that when she said such a thing—she meant it. She jumped from the table and ran inside with both hands to her mouth, and, by the time he was across the kitchen, he heard the bathroom door slam. He walked into the living room to find Robby had fallen asleep. Jackie was nearly dozing off.

“Jackie, go in to bed,” Joe ordered as he picked Robby up from the floor.

“What did you do to Mom?” Jackie got to his feet then started toward his bedroom.

“What did I . . . . What makes you think I did anything to her, and, for that matter, what makes you think I
would
do anything to her?”

“She ran through the house. You must have done something.”

“She got sick. Evidently she didn’t want to mess up her lawn so she risked her floors just to get to the toilet,” he said dryly.

Joe followed him into bed and stripped Robby down to his underwear then covered him and watched as Jackie slipped into bed.

“Why did she get sick? What’s wrong with her?” Jackie watched him from his bed.

“She smoked a cigarette. It didn’t agree with her.”

“My mom doesn’t smoke.”

“You should have reminded her before she lit it. Maybe she wouldn’t be sick now.”

Joe walked out, pulling the door partially closed behind him. He moved down the hall to the bathroom door, but when he tried the knob, he found it locked. He went into the bedroom and removed his shirt and shoes, then came back to the bathroom door to knock again.

“What?!” Maddie snapped at him.

“You okay?”

“Not exactly!”

“Do you wanna let me in?”

“No, I don’t want to let you in!” she moaned. “Just leave me alone for a while.”

“And how long’s that?” He leaned against the wall.

The silence that followed was suddenly broken by the click of the lock, then the door being opened an inch or two.

“If I let you in—will you shut up and stop asking me questions? Just let me die in peace?”

“You’re not dying.” He found her seated on the floor, leaning against the wall between the toilet and tub with her head resting on her knees. “Just a little green around the gills.”

“I hope to let you know this is taking the romance out of our relationship,” she said flatly before another surge of nausea struck her and she gulped in some air.

“Jesus, Maddie, don’t hold it in. Just let it fly!”

She looked up at him through annoyed eyes. “I’m not going to vomit in front of you!”

“Ya did before. Almost landed on my shoes if I remember correctly.”

“Go to hell, Irish. That was different! We weren’t exactly lovers at the time.”

“Well I’d join ya if you think that would add to the romance, but I really don’t feel the urge at the moment.” The irritation she showed made him smile as he knelt next to her, stroking the thickness of her hair. “Feeling any better?”

“No,” she said mopily.

“Want another cigarette?” he teased.

Her reaction came quickly as she shoved him onto the floor. The movement brought on another wave of sickness, turning her to the commode to hurl into its basin.

“You’re rotten,” she mumbled.

A smile crossed his lips as soon as he landed on the floor, an amusement at her helpless state more than the fact that she was actually sick from smoking a cigarette. The contrast between this and the self-reliant woman she wanted to be was heartwarming. He rose and wet two washcloths with cool water before moving back to her.

“Here ya go, toughy. Try this.” He knelt next to her again and placed the first cloth on the back of her neck then held the coolness of the other to her forehead before swabbing the rest of her face with it. “Any better?”