Impossible Dreams (36 page)

Axell was afraid to find out. He suspected Cleo was capable
of saying almost anything. “What?”

“She said Old Man Pfeiffer claimed to be our
grandfather.”

“Shit.” Axell closed his eyes and sank back in
his chair. He was accustomed to an orderly process of thought, but Maya kept
knocking him into tailspins. “If
that
turns out to be true,”
he ground out, “the mayor will be accusing the two of you of murder.
Pfeiffer had no children by his wife. If you could prove that tall tale, you
could stand to inherit a substantial share of the property over distant
relatives.”

“Oh.”

Maya sounded mildly interested, and Axell winced. Obviously,
he’d just handed her another weapon for her arsenal. “Don’t
even think about it,” he warned.

She shrugged and beamed her Maya smile. “My mother
never knew who her father was. I just thought it might be interesting for Alexa
to know her heritage. Maybe not,” she concluded hastily at his glare.

“We can do the genealogy after the murderer’s
caught.” Axell pried himself from the chair before he got too
comfortable. It was getting harder and harder to remember he had a business to
run.

“Cleo will do what’s best for Matty,” she
called after him.

As if that reassured him any. Squaring his shoulders, Axell
marched out.

Women were for motherhood and sex, he repeated mentally as
the sound system blared on behind him. Sex-sex-sex...

***

“This is what I wanted, Kitty,” Maya muttered as
she ripped the sheets from her bed, crumpled them in a ball, and flung them
into the hall. It was nearly midnight, and Axell wasn’t home.

The tangerine kitten — one of several named
“Kitty” because Matty couldn’t tell one from the other — peered
down from his perch on the dresser and licked his paw.

“You’re a fat lot of help. If you’re so
tidy, why haven’t you cleaned this room by now?” She shook out a
fresh pillowcase and jammed a pillow into it. “I’m not waiting up
for him any longer,” she warned the kitten. “We don’t have
that kind of marriage. He’ll probably go straight to his room rather than
risk life and limb coming in here.”

Maya studied the explosion of clothing strewn over every
surface and spilling from drawers. She’d never owned so many clothes in
her life, and she wasn’t entirely certain what to do with them. Sorting
between dry cleaning and laundry alone required a Ph.D. in household
maintenance which she didn’t possess. She wasn’t even certain where
all the clothes had come from.

She supposed she could put away the card table with the
remains of the dragon mobile, but if she didn’t use up the rest of those
paints soon, they’d dry out. And she had this idea for...

In the distance, she heard the garage door open. Double-D
bad word, she grumbled to herself, punching the pillow deeper into the case. If
Axell came back here, he’d probably think all this excess energy was for
him.

She’d never known sexual frustration, and she
wasn’t about to admit to it now. Axell Holm could go directly to his own
bed, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect Maya. The kids would be up at the crack of
dawn, and she needed her sleep.

She heard his step in the kitchen below as she punched the
second pillow into its case. She should have turned out the light. She
shouldn’t have stayed up in the first place. She was still mad at him for
thinking her school expendable and Cleo, unreliable. He obviously thought her a
real ditz who couldn’t get her head out of a bucket. She could have gone
for the Ph.D. if she’d had any money — or if she’d thought it
necessary. She wasn’t a ditz.

She knew the instant Axell appeared in her doorway, even
though she deliberately kept her back to the door. His subtle aftershave wafted
on the currents she was stirring. She glanced up at the mirror and saw him prop
his shoulder against the doorjamb. His tie was unknotted, his golden hair
rumpled, and his suit coat hung over his arm as he watched her. His eyes looked
tired, but damn, he looked too sexy for words.

He threw the coat over a chair already decorated with two
dresses. Silently, he crossed to the other side of the bed and helped to pull
the bottom sheet across the mattress.

“Matty’s in his room?” he asked
cautiously.

“Matty’s with Cleo. Social Services said she
could have him for the weekend.” She sounded stiff, even to herself.
Matty with his forlorn waif eyes and puckish grin had wormed so deep in her
heart, he would always be a part of her.

“Is Stephen still over there?” Axell asked with
lingering wariness, smoothing a sheet corner at the bottom of the bed.

He shouldn’t look so damned handsome and masculine
making a bed. Maya’s wormy heart pounded a little louder. “He
skipped out for Nashville yesterday, something about fixing a track on the new
album.”

“That figures,” he said dryly.

“It’s not as if working is irresponsible,”
Maya snapped.

The kitten pounced on the fresh pillowcase. As casually as
if she were stripping a sheet, Maya scooped the cat up, tossed him into the
laundry in the hall, and shut the door.

“I didn’t say otherwise,” Axell protested.
“Why are you mad now?”

“Because you want to tuck us into little boxes,”
she retorted without thinking. Because she’d wanted him home hours ago.
Because she wanted to be on this bed with him right now. Because he’d
taught her to want things she knew she couldn’t have or that
wouldn’t last. “Mad” didn’t even begin to touch her
mood.

“All right,” Axell replied warily, taking the
corner of the top sheet she tossed him. “I like things organized,”
he admitted. “Structure makes it easier to choose priorities and get
things done.”

Now he was even trying to
understand
her, damn the
man. “We’re not
things
!” Maya tossed a freshly made
pillow at him. “And fish don’t nest, and trees don’t bend,
and we must have been insane to believe this would work.”

Axell grappled with her words as he untangled the sheet.
Talking to Maya was like working a crossword puzzle. He just needed to
understand the references. He understood her last declaration well enough for
fear to grip his stomach. He’d walked into this marriage with eyes wide
open — any failure would be all his fault.

“Some fish don’t swim far from their spawning
grounds,” he offered tentatively. He didn’t know a hell of a lot
about fish, but he figured she was talking about herself, so he could
improvise.

Maya shot him a dark look. “There won’t be any
spawning around here at this hour.”

He almost grinned at that, but he thought she’d throw
him out on his ear like the cat. “It’s Friday,” he pointed
out patiently. “I’m lucky to get home before two a.m. The new
trainee doesn’t know the clientele yet.”

He folded a hospital corner on his side of the bed while she
shoved her sheet under the mattress without looking at it. “If
that’s all you’re mad about, I’m sorry, but I warned
you.”

“That’s
not
what I’m mad
about.” She flung the comforter across the bed. “I’m mad
because you think my school is less important than your damned bar.
School — bar,” she spat out, “Just listen to the words! Think, Axell.
What’s more important, teaching kids or feeding drunks?”

This was going a little too far. Grabbing the comforter she
was flinging on sideways, Axell shook it out straight. “That bar paid for
this house, bought the building your sister’s damned shop is in, and pays
for the food we eat. Intellectual exercise is very nice, but not of much use on
an empty stomach.”

“I was keeping food in our stomachs, that’s not
the
point
.” Maya tugged the comforter farther to her side.
“The point is, all my life, ever since grade school, I’ve wanted to
build a school that was like
family
.”

Axell halted his straightening and let her tug the comforter
where she wanted. Maya was arguing, so this had to be important. He just wished
she’d speak in terms he understood: goals and touchdowns, invoices and
assets. “Life” and “family” were too broad to
translate.

“I wanted a school where the teachers treated each
child like their own, whether they were wearing hundred-dollar Nikes or
Goodwill Keds. Do you have any idea how much more attention the polite,
well-dressed, country club kids receive than the unruly, or the poorly dressed,
or the misfits? The child who can do math gets heaped with praise but the one
who can only build block castles gets ignored. It’s not
right
.
Every child has something he’s good at, even if it’s not recognized
as one of the three R’s.” She flung the lacy pillow shams on top of
the comforter.

Axell eyed the decorative pillows skeptically, but
didn’t argue with their placement. He didn’t know why they were
making a bed at midnight when they should be unmaking it, anyway.

He could hear the creative child she’d been crying out
in protest and figured she knew what she was talking about. He’d been one
of the country club kids by the time he was in his teens. Before that... Well,
he’d always played sports well. He’d never felt unaccepted. Maya
had.

“You want a school where the poor kids and the
creative kids and the kids who can work with their hands better than their
brains can all be equal,” he translated. “That’s not
possible. You’re dreaming.”

“Damned right, I’m dreaming. Somebody has
to.” She scowled at him. “It’s obvious you quit long ago, if
you ever dreamed at all.”

She was heading for emotional meltdown, and Axell was at a
loss as to how to handle it. He’d gone this route with Angela.
She’d scream and he’d stare at her in bewilderment. He could see it
happening all over again. The cliff’s edge he walked on crumbled a little
more with each step.

“Dreaming doesn’t pay,” he answered
guardedly. “But you’re entitled to try it your way. I wish
you’d give me straight answers though. I told you, I don’t do well
at reading between the lines.”

To his surprise, Maya’s scowl vanished. She finished
straightening the bottom of the bed and sauntered to his side with a definitely
wicked gleam in her eye. Axell wondered if it was too late to run. Glancing at
the sway of her hips, he decided running wasn’t an option he wanted to
take.

“Actually, you’ve been doing exceptionally
well,” she murmured, sliding her hands behind his neck until soft curves
brushed him in tempting places, backing him up against the bed.
“Let’s see if you understand this.”

Standing on tiptoes, she gyrated her hips against his zipper
until Axell thought his pants would explode. She was right. This, he
understood.

Falling backward onto the mattress, he pulled her with him.
Before she could scramble away, Axell flipped over, pinning her beneath him.
Capturing Maya’s flailing arms, he proceeded to kiss her into a different
form of passion. Maya did passion exceptionally well.

Tomorrow night, maybe they’d make it to his room.

***

May, 1970

I cannot tell anyone but my journal, so I have dug it out after
all these years to record my tears and joy — my daughter was married today to a
fine, upstanding young man. I don’t know whether her mother is watching
from heaven or hell, but I’m sure she is smiling with the same teary-eyed
happiness as I am.

The more people I meet, the more I like my cat.

Maya gaped at the shiny black Cadillac in front of
Cleo’s shop. If the rich discovered some of her sister’s eccentric
artists, business would definitely boom.

Cheerfully, she shoved open the shop door.

“The same arrangement as before,” the bald man
at the counter was saying as the door chimed. “You owe us,” he
finished, glancing dismissively at Maya and turning to leave.

The man had an aura the same color as his Cadillac, Maya
decided as he shoved past her. She didn’t think she was a bigot, but the
nasty snarl on the man’s face made her think in terms of pit bulls,
semi-automatics, and gang colors. This man wore a suit and tie and cufflinks.

As the door closed behind him, Maya searched her
sister’s weary, resigned expression.

“Matty’s upstairs watching TV,” Cleo said
coldly at Maya’s look. “I have to work on Saturdays. It’s our
busiest day.”

Several teenagers lingered near the inexpensive pewter
fantasy figurines. No one appeared interested in the two magnificent paintings
of a medieval sorcerer and his lady on the high walls. Maya had thought
they’d sell quickly. Maybe she had no business sense after all. Maybe
Cleo couldn’t make a living here.

“That man who just left was pure evil,” she
hissed quietly so the kids couldn’t hear.

“Bigot,” Cleo countered.

“Don’t give me that. Evil comes in all
colors.” Terrified, Maya looked closely at her sister but couldn’t
see any sign of drug use. “Cleo, if you’ve got trouble, share it.
You can endanger yourself if you like, but not Matty. He’s too
young.”

Cleo’s expression shuttered. “You don’t
know what you’re talking about. That man is a customer who likes to use
mystical party favors. I supply them.”

“That man never showed his face the entire time I ran
this store,” Maya retorted. “Cleo, I’m your sister. We can
fight this.”

Cleo shook her head. “You always were a
dreamer.” Forcing a smile, she emerged from behind the counter and spoke
to one of the teenagers. “That’s a crystal from Nepal. It’s
supposed to have the power to heal...”

Maya marched up the stairs and retrieved Matty. As she held
the boy’s hand through the shop, he tugged and dragged his feet.
“Don’ wanna go,” he protested.

Furious with Cleo, Maya marched on.

“Mama needs me!” Matty whined, fighting her
hold.

Arrows of pain piercing her heart, Maya halted and kneeled
beside him. “Of course your mama needs you, sugar. She loves you. But she
needs to be by herself right now.”