Accompanying Alice (13 page)

“It doesn’t help.” Alice threw the towel at the sink and turned her back on him, muttering, “They told her you were here and she called— No, no,
Helen
called the hotel, I’d bet my firstborn on it. Unbelievable. I’ve got to think about this.”

She tapped her foot thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head incredulously. “I can’t
believe
this. We’re eight grown women, but here I am trying to think up ways to outdo them because they’ve decided to tease me over a man I’m pretending to sleep with. Just wait. I’ll get to that fitting today, and they’ll have something set up.” Her fingers drummed her thigh. “
What will it be? Potty
chair photographs? Embarrassing stories—”

“Your parents took a picture of you on a potty chair?”

“No, I think that was Meg. I was standing behind her.”

“Naked?”

“I was wearing a bathrobe. And pajamas. Meg was wearing Mickey Mouse ears.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

Alice flipped an impatient hand at him. “No problem. Apology accepted. It’s them there’s no excuse for. Practically throw me into the future with a guy named Skip, then can’t leave me alone when I actually bring home a guy on my own.” She looked at Gabriel earnestly. “What do they want?”

“Your happiness?”

Alice snorted. “Interesting theory, but people who really have your happiness and best interests at heart usually ask you which of your interests will make you happy before they go off to meddle in them for you, don’t they? They don’t just assume they know what’s best for you and then try to cram it down your throat when you tell them pretty specifically you don’t want it, do they?”

“Ah...”

Happily, the timer on the stove buzzed before he had to think of an answer, and Gabriel grabbed a pair of pot holders and opened the oven door. Alice considerately found a cooling rack and slid it under the pan as he set it on the counter. Warned by a male survival instinct too ancient for its origins to be recorded, Gabriel put the pan and the pot holders down and gave Alice his full
,
guarded attention.

“You know,” she mused, chewing the tip of one fingernail meditatively, “I know they love me. I can’t really fault that, can I? I love them, too. And I guess, when you love people, you try to make them happy whether they want to be or not. It’s just that, well, this has really started to bug me, and maybe it’s time to be blunt. Hmm...” She tapped her teeth. “I guess I actually should have dealt with it once and for all when I was twenty-six, but you know how it is. Whenever I thought about it I was in the middle of somebody’s 4-H fair or soccer practice or something and didn’t have time.” She folded her hands angelically, and used them to prop up her chin. “I’ve never had
time
before
,”
she added dreamily.

Chapter Five

G
abriel dumped the cinnamon rolls onto the counter, oblivious to flying raisins and dripping sugar. Long ago, when he’d been just any other Bureau rookie, he remembered the look Alice was wearing as a danger sign that had invariably brought him unfavorable notice from people whose displeasure he’d rather have avoided. Older and wiser now than he’d been at twenty-five, he wanted no part of that look or anything that went with it. Not even if he did “owe” her. Hell, he didn’t believe in counting markers or trading favors, either. Not usually.

Hastily he cut two cinnamon rolls, slid them onto a plate and plunked them on the dining-room table. Relieving Alice of her coffee mug, he guided her to the table and seated her unceremoniously in front of the rolls. “Eat,” he ordered. “Enjoy. They’re best hot. I’ll bring you more coffee.”

“With milk? Poured in before the coffee.”

“Naturally.” Gabriel sloshed the coffeepot back onto its
burner, then rummaged in the fridge for milk. “You’re out.”

“I think there’s some Cool Whip in the freezer. That’ll do.”

“In your coffee?” Gabriel shuddered, poured it black and set it in front of her. “No whipped topping. It’s better for you this way.”

“What is?” Absently Alice tore off a piece of cinnamon bun, dunked it in her cup and nibbled on it thoughtfully. “You know—” she ran an appraising eye over him, from bare feet to
button fly denims
to bare chest “—we really ought to go shopping before we go to the fitting, spiff you up a little, you know? Not,” she continued, wondering if she sounded as manic as she felt, “that you aren’t spiffy now, just that maybe we ought to make you spiffier so there aren’t too many questions.” She regarded the left side of his forehead where the cut in his temple looked hair-matted and oozy. “And you need a big Band-Aid and some antiseptic on that. If we let it go and it gets infected... It’s awfully close to the brain. And besides, Helen might not have noticed it, but Helen never pays attention to that sort of thing, and the fact of the matter is that Edith’s a nurse and—”

“Clothes and a Band-Aid,” Gabriel agreed. “We redesign me to fit you. No problem. Do you have a story for me, too?”

“What?” Alice sat up, taken aback. All she’d been interested in was sidetracking her disquieting desire for Gabriel while doing something to make a point with her family. The means to that end hadn’t really occurred to her. But now... “I didn’t mean we should
lie.
Skirt the truth a little, maybe evade it,
delay
it, but I’m no good at lying.”

Gabriel looked her over, the woman who’d grabbed his heart and forced his honesty by dark, suggesting deceit by day. Who we are, he thought, is almost never who we seem to be. “I am.”

He made the statement fl
at, and Alice looked at him hard, concentrating all her attention on him. The ragged edge she’d heard in him last night was back full force. Time to tread carefully. “I don’t want you to lie for me.”

“Then what is it you
do
want, Alice? Besides a back to hide behind.”

“Nothing. That’s all.” Defensive. Stubborn. Rebellious. Defiant. Emotions that had gotten her through the comments made at school when her pregnancy had started to show. The state of grace that had kept her tough enough to finish out the credits she needed to graduate from high school early, at the end of the January term, when she was eight months pregnant. It had been a long time since she’d felt any of those emotions.

Having the twins when she did had forced her to rise to the occasion, to take charge of her own life before she might have otherwise. If she hadn’t been so dead set on keeping her babies, she’d never have had the courage to do many of the things she’d done. Not having the girls to propel her through anymore frightened her, made her afraid she’d get lazy, no longer choose to rise to the occasion because there’d be no one pushing her forward, no one holding her back. She was on her own.
Freedom,
she realized with a start, was a terrifyingly responsible word. She lifted her chin.

“Do what you have to do for you,” she said softly, “but leave me out of it. I don’t need anything from you.”

Or anyone, her tone implied. For some reason her autonomy angered him. She got to him, her directness, her innocence, her expectations. And the lack of them. “You got it, babe,” he agreed scornfully, “just as soon as you give me something to work with. Tell me, if you were really going to live in sin with someone, who would he be? Who’s your dream man, Alice?”

“I don’t know. I thought I did once, but he turned out to be a shadow on the wall—all looks, no substance.”

“How old was he, seventeen, eighteen?” He was treading thin ice and didn’t care. Or
did
care and didn’t want to. He’d been that boy once, all hormones, no soul. “What kind of time had he had to develop any substance?”

“Almost a year more than I had.”

They were talking to one another in riddles, he realized, as though they’d known one another forever and could assume understanding. The intimacy of the bond might have worried him if they hadn’t been so busy accusing one another of things someone else had done. “And that’s what you judged him on. How old he was compared to you?”

“No, I judged him on how he let other people treat me and make his decisions for him. On how he made me see myself. Judge myself.” Her eyes focused on the dining room window, looking at things he couldn’t see. Life was too busy to spend much of it chasing her tail around sore memories all the time, she knew, but there were moments...

She firmly shoved yesterday behind her where it belonged. One thing Alice Meyers-née-Brannigan did well was to push herself forward all the time, no matter what, without ever turning around to peer backward with regret. In fact, she reminded herself, the only time she did look back was when she wanted to remember who she didn’t want to be anymore. And, maybe, who she could be now.

She took in Gabriel’s face, the planes and angles, the bruises and the tired brown eyes, the remnants of a yesterday that made her shake. “Why are you defending him like you knew him?”

“I was him. Oh, not—” he waved a coffee mug in a gesture of denial “—anybody’s father, I don’t mean that, but I’ve given in to peer pressure, let other people influence me, make decisions for me.” He turned his face from her, thinking of Scully and Markum and their dangerous hidden
agendas, then eyed her directly. “I let people use me.”

“Like I’m using you?”

“And I’m using you. It’s mutual. We made a deal. Agreed to it.” He shrugged acceptance of a suddenly unpleasant fait accompli. “Chose it as the lesser of available evils.”

She didn’t like the picture he was putting together.
It
wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fun.

She tried to look away from him, but his face, his eyes, his acceptance and awareness of the little sins that diminished people held her.
Last
night he’d touched her heart, yesterday evening her fantasies, today the hidden places inside her, the places she didn’t want to see, acknowledge, or hear from. “I don’t think I like you very much.”

“We don’t have to like each other to work together, Alice.”

He regretted it the moment he said it. As he had occasion to know, words wounded more easily than shrapnel, did more damage, were harder to remove. He watched Alice’s eyes grow hooded, her face aloof as though she’d dealt once too often with disapproval and knew exactly how to numb herself to it. He looked away from her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… You’ve been kind. I shouldn’t...”

Alice shook her head sadly. “Yes, you meant, and so did I. We don’t always say what we should in awkward situations. People are so contradictory, don’t you think? One way at night, another by day. It’s hard to remember where you stand, what rights you have, how well you know someone after only twenty-four hours in their company.”

Just like that her directness caught him again, made him feel good, made him like her. Made him grin. “You’re good,” he said with admiration. “You sure you don’t come with an operator’s manual?”
.

“Sorry, burned it. Makes life more interesting. Or so my kids tell me.”

“Too bad. I wanted to see what it had to say about mood swings and character traits.”

“Oh, I can tell you
that.”
Alice bunched her face into a reflective attitude. “It said, and I quote
“Handle with care. Mood and character subject to change without notice.”
“

Gabriel chuckled. “Somehow I knew that.” He eyed her, and connection stirred between them again, took firmer root. “So, philosophies aside, we are dealing with your family and I do need to know who I am today. Helen and Grace have already met me, but what they really saw...” He shrugged. “Could be a mistake. I can still change anything to be... whoever would suit you best. What color eyes do I have, what clothing do I wear, how do I appear? Am I rich, submissive, cocky—”