Adding Up to Marriage (11 page)

The doorbell rang.

“Got it!” Jewel yelled as she sprinted from her room, phone in hand, to yank open the door and let out a strangled shriek; Silas arrived on the scene just in time to witness her hauling some skinny, shaggy, baggy kid into her arms.

Only to let go, slug him in the arm, yell, “What the heck were you
thinking?
” then hug him all over again, until the grinning kid untangled himself from her grip enough to look up and say, “Oh, hey—you must be Silas, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. And you are?”

The grin stretched so far the boy's ears rose a half inch.

“Aaron. Jewel's stepbrother.”

 

“I cannot
believe
you hitched!” Jewel said, slapping her brother on the arm through his thick hoodie before setting a plate piled with fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and coleslaw in front of him. The first but probably not the last, she was guessing, since he'd already edged past six feet at
fifteen,
for God's sake. Silas's parents had gone back home, although Donna gave her the requisite “Let us know if you need anything” spiel before she left, and Silas was putting the boys to bed. Leaving Jewel mercifully alone with her brother so she could smack him around without witnesses. “Are you
insane?
You want tea or milk?”

“Milk, please. And I didn't exactly hitch—” Aaron grabbed the glass from her before it reached the table, gulped half of it down “—I got a ride from my friend's older brother's best bud, he was coming down to Albuquerque, anyway.”

“Then why didn't you say that to begin with?” Jewel said, dropping into the seat catty-corner to him, watching him stuff food in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in weeks. “You said ‘hitched'—” Then she shook her hands. “Never mind. But how did you find me here?”

“You said it was a small town, everybody knew everybody else's business—I asked at that Mexican restaurant, the lady at the register told me where you were.”

Probably how her mother had found her, too. Which was neither here nor there. She frowned. “And…how did you get from there to here?”

“Some dude at the restaurant brought me. It's okay, the
same lady said I'd be fine, and she doesn't look like somebody you'd mess with.”

“Big gal? Older? Dyed black hair?”

“Yeah.”

“That's Evangelista, she owns the place. And you're right, nobody'd mess with her. But, Aaron, honey…” She dipped her head to look up underneath his straggly, dishwater blond bangs. “You can't stay here. You've gotta go back and work this out with your dad.”

“No way, sorry.” His head wagging, Aaron stripped half the meat off a drumstick with one bite. “He's getting
married
to that chick I told you about. Witch Woman.” He barely glanced at Jewel, but long enough for her to catch the tears. Damn.

“Oh, sweetie…” Sighing, she sagged back in the chair, her arms crossed. “I hurt for you, I really do. But this isn't even my house, there's barely room for me in the office, let alone you—”

“I don't mind, I've got my sleeping bag. You won't even know I'm here, promise. Besides, you said your place will be fixed in a week or so, right?”

“That's not my house, either.” When Aaron frowned at her, chewing, she waved her hand again. “Never mind. Aaron. You're not listening—”

“I thought you missed me?”

“Of course I miss you! Like you wouldn't believe! But…I can't take care of you—”

“And like I said, you don't have to
take care
of me. I'm not helpless! I just…need someplace to stay.”

“Oh, geez, baby—”

“It's totally okay with Dad. And for cripes' sake, I'm not a baby!”

No, he definitely was not. Except for the zits peeking through the bangs and the peach-fuzzed lip and teary
eyes. Jewel sighed. “So if I called him right now, he'd say that.”

The kid's honey-colored eyes meeting hers, he dug out his cell phone and handed it to her. “Go ahead—” Then looking past her, he stood so fast his chair tipped backwards. “I didn't mean to be any trouble, Mr. Garrett,” he said, fumbling for the chair before it hit the floor, his cheeks bright red when he shoved his hair off his forehead. “I honestly had no idea Jewel wasn't in her own place, sir. I'm sorry.”

Silas stared hard at her brother for several seconds, then rammed his hands into his back pockets. “And maybe,” he said quietly, “you should've found out exactly what your sister's situation was before simply showing up and upsetting her.”

Jewel's mouth fell open. “I'm not—”

“Yeah, you are,” Aaron said, looking sheepish, before cutting his eyes to Silas again, only to dip his head. “Guess I didn't exactly think that one through, huh?”

Jewel saw Silas take a deep, steadying breath. “How old are you again?”

“Fifteen.”

Silas's gaze touched Jewel's before returning to her brother. “There's a futon in my family's shop, about a mile from here. You can crash there tonight. Go ahead and finish your meal, come get me in the living room when you're done, I'll drive you over.”

After Silas left the room Aaron looked to her, his brows nearly meeting over his nose. “This isn't exactly working out the way I'd planned.”

“Yeah, well, that's what happens when a person charges ahead with something when he's already been told
it won't work.
So you should consider yourself lucky to have someplace to sleep at all.” Jewel stood to take his dish. “Silas
was under no obligation to offer you even that much. You're none of his concern. That he did…” She walked over to the sink, realizing her hands were shaking. “Frankly,” she said, turning, “I'd've put you on the first bus back to Denver.”

“Really?” Aaron flashed her that wicked, dimpled smile that had instantly melted her heart when she'd first clapped eyes on the adorable two-year-old, and could still work its charm thirteen years later. “No.
But,
” she said when he laughed, “
only
because I don't have the money right now. This is serious, Aaron. And you sleeping on the futon in the Garretts' shop isn't even remotely close to a solution.”

The kid's smile faded, even as his gaze swung to the leftover cake glittering like a trophy underneath the glass cover. Sighing, Jewel yanked a plate out of the cupboard and cut him a double slice.

“Thanks,” he muttered, forking in a huge bite. Then he peered up at her from underneath his bangs. “You didn't finish your sentence.”

“What sentence?”

“You said something about me being none of Silas's concern, then you said, ‘That he did…'. That he did, what?”

“I can't remember,” she lied, taking his already empty plate to cut him another slice, watching herself—once more—get sucked into something without her permission.

And she wasn't only talking about her brother.

 

Truth be told, Silas's first reaction when he'd seen Jewel pull the scrawny, sad sack kid into her arms was
Oh,
hell
no.
More responsibility, he did not need. But what was he gonna do? Toss the kid out on his butt?

Besides, once he got past the initial
Why me?,
Reaction Number Two clobbered him on the head, which was that
if he wanted to go digging in Jewel's past, who better to hand him a map and shovel than her stepbrother?

Yeah. About that. In a week, tops, Jewel'd be out of his house, out of his life—except for the babysitting which was minimal contact—and all that stuff about it making him crazy unless he figured out what made her tick? It would fade. If he gave it half a chance. And/or told his brain to shut the hell up about it. Whatever was going on inside Jewel's head, it wasn't up to Silas to know, or fix, or make better.

Or her kid brother, sunk down with exhaustion in the seat next to him. Except Silas sensed Aaron was genuinely miserable, that he hadn't taken off on a lark, which naturally tugged at Silas's heart.

Even so, the boy shouldn't be rewarded for running away, nor did Jewel need that extra burden right now. Hence the futon offer. Not that sleeping in the office was like being consigned to hell: Silas, as well as all of his brothers, had all crashed on that futon at one time or another, for one reason or another, and lived to tell the tale. But the shop was what it was. And what it was, was several notches below a Motel 6.

“Your father even know where you are?” Silas said when they got inside and the kid dumped his backpack and bed-roll onto the office's scuffed wood floor.

“Yeah, actually.” He held up his phone. “GPS. Nice being tracked like some loser criminal, huh?”

“Considering what you did, not such a bad idea.” The kid grimaced. “You need to at least tell him you're okay—”

“My father doesn't give a crap about me,” the boy said quietly, plopping onto the edge of the futon and bouncing a little before popping back up to undo his sleeping bag, spread it out on the mattress. “And I'm not saying that because I'm some spoiled brat who's pissed because he didn't
buy me the newest game system or something. He gives me everything I ask for. Except himself. It sucks, and I…” He swallowed. “I got tired of being last in line, okay?”

If the kid had snarled at him, or given him attitude, that would have been one thing. But he hadn't, which tamped down Silas's annoyance. He propped one hip on the desk, his hands linked on his lap.

“You pulled a fast one on your sister, though. That wasn't exactly cool.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aaron shoved his long fingers, the nails chewed to the quick, through his stringy hair. “But I didn't know what else to do.”

“What about your mother?”

“She died when I was little. I never even knew her.” The sleeping bag arranged to his satisfaction, he flopped on it, his skate shoes thudding to the floor when he toed them off. He leaned over to drag another hoodie out of his backpack, wadding it up and stuffing it behind his head. “Jewel was the closest I ever got to somebody acting like my mom. When her mom and my dad split, I felt like somebody'd punched me in the gut.”

Ah, hell. It was everything Silas could do not to yank the kid into his arms himself. “But she's only, what? Nine, ten years older than you?”

Aaron wriggled around to prop his head in his hand. “Yeah. I know. But it was her who cooked and cleaned and stuff, who came into my room at night when I got scared. Who took me to school and helped me with my homework. Dude—she took care of me. She cared about me. Nobody else did. Ever. So now…”

His Adam's apple working, he shook his head. “I didn't know where else to go. I know we're not related by blood or anything, but she's, like all I've got. Hey—” Spotting the
computer, he bounced upright again. “You got wireless? 'Cause I could totally gank your signal for my laptop.”

Silas pushed himself away from the desk. “Knock yourself out. On one condition.”

“What's that?”

“Call your father. Maybe it doesn't matter to him,” he said when the boy opened his mouth, “but it matters to Jewel. And me.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever. But it won't make any difference.”

Thinking,
And this is what I have to look forward to,
Silas walked to the door. “It shouldn't get too cold in here, but there's a space heater if it does. Just turn it off when you go to sleep. Somebody'll come get you for breakfast around seven-thirty. And…”

And, what? This wasn't his problem to solve.

Yeah. Say it another hundred times or so, and maybe you'll actually believe it.

“And we'll figure out what comes next,” he said. “'Night.”

“'Night. Silas?”

He twisted back. “Yeah?”

His laptop already open, the kid looked up, his face silver in the glow from the computer screen. “I know this has nothing to do with you. So I really, really appreciate you not kicking me to the curb or anything. Seriously, thanks. And if there's anything I can do to, like, return the favor? I'm totally cool with that.”

“You're welcome,” Silas said after a moment. “Although you might want to wait to see what we decide before you thank me. See you in the morning.”

When he got back, Jewel was still at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. He thought at first she'd been crying, but when she lifted her head she was dry-eyed, her
brows drawn behind her glasses. Obviously miffed, but not a basket case. Then Silas thought about what Aaron had said, about her being the only mother figure he'd ever had, and he thought,
Gotcha.

Except, somehow, it felt a helluva lot more like he was the one who'd been caught.

“I
'm so, so sorry about this,” Jewel said before Silas could open his mouth.

Silas looked at her for a long moment, then moseyed over to the cake platter, cutting himself another piece and plunking it on a napkin. “I'm a lot more sorry about
this,
” he muttered around a bite, dripping crumbs all over his shirt. “Triple Temptation, you should call it.”

Jewel smiled, but it wasn't her normal puppies and rainbows smile. And it faded fast. “Oh, Lord, Silas…first my mother, then Aaron, both in the same day…so not fair.”

“To which one of us?”

She burbled out a laugh. “Both.” Then she sighed. “I called Aaron's dad while you were gone.”

“Oh? And?”

“Went straight to voice mail. I mean, if it was your kid, wouldn't you be jumping on the phone the minute it rang?
Or calling
his
cell? Geezy Pete—what is
wrong
with that man?”

Her obvious worry about someone she hadn't seen since she was sixteen, who wasn't even a blood relative, cut Silas to the quick. Then it struck him, especially when he considered her extremely charitable attitude toward her mother, that there wasn't a soul on earth more loyal than Jewel Jasper. That when she loved, she loved like a child—deep and forever and unconditionally.

Not helping,
he thought, the bite of cake clogging his throat. He grabbed some child's leftover milk from dinner and gulped it down.

“You really care about the kid, don't you?”

A small, heartbreaking smile touched her mouth, and he wanted to hold her so badly it made him dizzy. “Probably way more than I should.”

“No such thing. Sounds like he's damn lucky to have you in his life.”

She blushed. “You're sweet to say so, but what good am I to him right now? Especially if I have to send him back…” Cradling her head in her hands, she muttered, “I have no earthly idea how to fix this.”

“And maybe you should go on to bed and we'll talk about it in the morning—”

“This isn't your problem, Silas!” Straightening her glasses, she blew her nose into a napkin. “Oh, Lord, if I'd had any idea…” Her mouth flat, she met his gaze, her own an odd combination of confusion, vexation and determination. “The last thing I wanted, or expected, when I accepted either of your offers was for you to get sucked into my family dramas. I keep thinking you must be having some serious regrets, right about now. You want me to make other arrangements, I'd completely understand—”

Without thinking, Silas reached across the table and
grabbed her hand. Not the smartest move he could've made, considering the
zzzzt
that practically made him lurch, both at her touch and the way her eyes latched on to his in response, but too late now.

“And you can stop that train of thought right now. You're not going anywhere. Unless you want to.” After a moment, she slowly shook her head and Silas released her hand. “Besides, you got a hefty dose of my parents tonight, too. I think we can call it even.”

Tucking her hands into her crossed arms, she smiled. “You may have a point. Although there's a big difference between cooking a little dinner and suddenly having a runaway on your hands. And I repeat—this is my problem. Not yours.”

Silas settled back in his chair, considering how much he should say. Finally he settled on, “When's the last time you had anybody there for
you?
”

Her gaze instantly sharpened. “What do you mean?”

“Aaron told me you as good as raised him when you were kids. That for all intents and purposes you were his mom.”

Jewel flushed, then gave a nervous laugh. “He was exaggerating, he was far too little to remember…”

“Then you didn't do all the cooking and laundry? You weren't the one who comforted him when he had a bad dream?”

Her cheeks got so bright he half expected them to combust. “I was only doing what needed to be done. And it wasn't like I minded. Keeping everything in order, being who Aaron came to when he was scared or sad…it made me feel good. Like…”

“Like you mattered?”

“No! Okay—” she toyed with one of her earrings “—maybe deep down that was partly true, although I don't
remember thinking about myself at the time. All I wanted was to see him happy. And you know as well as I do there's no better feeling on earth than when a little kid trusts you. So…maybe it did make me feel like I mattered. Mattered to
him.
”

“And he wasn't the only one you took care of, was he?”

When her eyes lowered, Silas reached for her hand again. “I knew there was something screwy about what you said earlier, when you gave me that song and dance about how you had never really grown up because your mother hadn't. In fact, the opposite was true, wasn't it? Not the part about your mother's immaturity—I've met the woman, there's no denying that—but it wasn't that you never had a chance to grow up. It was that you grew up too soon.”

Her eyes glanced off his before she got up to cover the cake again. Oddly encouraged by her silence—at least she wasn't denying it—Silas pushed further. “What I'm not understanding, is why the act?”

Her gaze jerked to his. “Act?”

“Yeah. No damn way are you a space cadet. But something tells me you want people to think you are. I don't get it.”

Jewel scraped the frosting off the knife blade with her index finger, sticking the goo in her mouth before dropping the knife into the dishwasher. “Liking to have fun doesn't make me a space cadet,” she said softly.

“The Beanie Babies?”

She almost smiled, only to slide to the floor to hug the dog, not even trying to dodge The Tongue. “You know, sometimes I think the world would be a much better place if more people let themselves act like kids from time to time. I don't mean shirking their responsibilities, or not being able
to function on their own. But being able to simply
enjoy
life without analyzing everything to death.”

“Believe it or not, I agree,” Silas said quietly, hurting for her, for what had been so rudely taken from her. “The world does need more of that. But that's not what I'm talking about. Which you know.”

She glanced up. “It's just easier that way.”

“What's easier?”

“Life. My life, anyway.”

“Still not getting it, honey.”

After a long, considering look, she got up and shuffled back to the table to drop into the chair again. “Okay, you're right, I was the caretaker in my family from the time I was old enough to run the washer and reach the stove. I honestly don't know if I picked up the slack because I wanted Mama to notice me, I was genuinely afraid I'd starve to death or because I'm a nurturer. All three, I suppose. However…”

She took a deep breath. “I love my mother, Silas. And I know she loves me. But somewhere along the way it hit me I'd become a doormat. That I was enabling Mama—not that I knew the term at the time, but that was the truth of it—by doing everything for her so she wouldn't have to. Even after I'd had my little revelation, though, it was simply easier to stick with the status-quo than to try to change things. Change her. Finally it occurred to me that was never going to happen—for either of us—unless I left.”

And he could see it in her eyes, that the decision had nearly killed her. “When was this?” he asked gently.

“The epiphany? When I was still in high school. Couldn't get away, though, until college. We were living in Las Cruces then. I think—we lived so many places it's hard to remember—but I ‘escaped' to Albuquerque when I got a scholarship to UNM nursing school.”

“And your mother?”

“Moved to Albuquerque to be closer to me.”

“Damn.”

She smirked. “Yeah. And sure enough, every time I'd try to assert myself, tell her I had plans, she'd always get to me, and I'd feel bad for her and drop whatever I was doing to go help her, or hang out with her…and we'd be right back at square one. So after I graduated I moved up to Billings to work in a hospital there.”

“And she didn't follow you?”

“Amazingly enough, no. She'd started coaching baby skaters by then, had a good thing going in Albuquerque, so she stayed put.”

“So when did Justin happen?”

She almost smiled. “Caught that, didja? My senior year of college. I'll admit I was temporarily blinded by the
idea
of being married, and Justin's a nice enough guy, but…” She shrugged. “I wasn't ready. Fortunately I realized that before I made a huge mistake. I think Mama took it worse than Justin.”

“So I gathered.”

“Anyway, while I was in Billings I shared a house with a midwife who did home births and who'd apprenticed with Patrice several years ago—which is how I ended up back here—as well as with a recently divorced family therapist who was only too happy to let me babble to her in exchange for a decent meal.”

She tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair, massaging her scalp where it had been. “I already knew how lopsided I'd let my life get, but she helped me see that it's one thing to be giving, another thing entirely to give until the well runs dry without clue one how to fill it up again. Not to mention that because I've never actually been part of a balanced relationship? I have no idea how one goes about that.

“So the consensus was I needed to do two things. One, continue to stay out of my mother's way as much as possible, even if kills me, until she either learns to stand on her own two feet, which I'm not holding my breath about, or until I can be her daughter without being her lackey.”

She held his gaze until Silas felt the weight of whatever she was about to say somehow shift to him.

“And the other?”

“Avoid romantic entanglements until I find that balance. Until I figure out how to make
Jewel
happy before I lose myself again by trying so hard to make somebody else happy. Only thing is, it's been three years, and I don't feel any closer to understanding what the heck any of that means than I did then.” She paused, then said softly, “
Now
do you get it?”

Yeah. Right between the eyes. Not that her words surprised him. His reaction, though, threw him for a major loop. “That still doesn't explain the act, though.”

“Sure it does. Because I did learn
something
from observing my mother—that while some men find the giggly, helpless routine amusing, most don't. And even those who do get tired of it pretty quickly.” Her shoulders hitched. “It's a useful…tool.”

“You act goofy on purpose to keep men at bay?”

“The serious ones, anyway.”

“Meaning guys who are serious in general, or ones who might be serious about you?”

Another small shrug preceded, “Either. Both.”

Silence thrummed between them.

“And…which one was I?”

She smiled. Sort of. “Oh, come on, Silas—it's like using a seat belt—doesn't mean you're gonna get in an accident, just something you do automatically. In case.”

He could have left it there, strangled in its seat belt
metaphor. But he didn't. Oh, no, just had to poke at it by saying, “Except now I know. That you're pretending.”

“Ah, but you also know why I was. So nothing's changed, right? Come on, the last thing
you
need in your life is some chick with more issues than
TIME Magazine.
Far as I can tell, I'm as safe with you as I'd be with Santa Claus.”

Depends on who's wearing the Santa suit.
“Can't argue with that logic,” Silas said, feeling unaccountably grumpy. “However, there is one tiny glitch in your logic you may have overlooked.”

“And what's that?”

“Actually, two things. One, that being a giver isn't a liability. Or a character flaw. Not as long as you give because you want to, and not because you're trying to get something in return. And two,” he added before she could wedge in an objection, “I'm no more capable of looking the other way, of not lending a hand when it's needed, than you are. For good or bad, it's who I am. What I do. Which means if you think you have to handle this situation with Aaron all by yourself, you're dead wrong.”

“I see,” she said. Silas couldn't tell if she was amused or pissed. Probably both. “And what if I don't want your help?”

“You're outta luck. You want to find balance? First step is to let somebody else share the load. And if you don't,” he said, standing, “you'll have to answer to my mother. And I don't think either one of us want
that.
”

After another long moment Jewel cracked up laughing. Then—get this—she got up and wrapped her arms around his waist to give him a hug, before heading back to her room.

Leaving Silas standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened.

And worse, what the hell came next.

 

Jewel had barely walked into the kitchen the next morning when a knock at the back door scared the bejeebers out of her. God knew she was already jittery as all get-out on account of getting maybe a total of three hours sleep the night before, thanks to both her idiot brother and the even bigger idiot whose houseguest she was.

Pressing her pounding heart back into place, she shoved aside the flimsy window curtain to see Aaron doing a rapid, stiff-handed wave, his grin all but hidden by the breath cloud masking his face.

“Thanks for shaving five years off my life,” she said, barely getting out of his way as he shoved his way inside to dump his gear on the floor beside Doughboy's water dish. “How on earth did you get here? One of us would've picked you up later.”

Even though he was shivering like mad, Aaron went straight to the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice. “I'm about to starve. Besides, it was fricking freezing in that shop and the heater didn't work. So I walked over here. What's for breakfast?”