Once More with Feeling (33 page)

“That’s exactly how I feel,” Laura agreed. “You know, it’s amazing how many times I’ve imagined this exact scenario. When I was married, packing up and moving out was one of my favorite fantasies. And now it’s really happening.”

“You know the old saying,” Carolyn observed. “ ‘Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.’ ”

“But I want it!” Laura insisted. “I really do. I’m anxious to get on with my life. I feel as if the rest of it is a wonderful adventure, lying ahead of me. It’s as if I’m sitting in front of a blank page, with a pen in my hand, and I’m free to write anything I want on it.”

“That’s a positive way to approach all this,” said Phyllis, nodding approvingly. “Divorce is a time of endings. Painful endings. Sometimes endings that are abrupt or unexpected ... or unwanted. But it’s important to keep in mind that it’s also a time of beginnings.”

“Maybe you’ll meet somebody nice,” said Daisy. “Make a new life for yourself and your son. Create a new family.”

“I have met someone,” Laura admitted, suddenly shy. ‘To tell you the truth, I can’t quite believe I’m letting down my guard. Trusting him, wanting to be with him more than anything else in the world ... I’m doing all the things that, six months ago, I swore I’d never even consider. I was so determined to protect myself. Committed to never being vulnerable again. Yet here I am, jumping in headfirst....” She laughed self-consciously. “I keep wondering if I’m crazy.”

“Not crazy,” Daisy said softly. “Just human.”

“Besides,” said Ken, “hopefully you learned something the first time around.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “If you keep your eyes open, you won’t make the same mistakes.”

Laura just nodded, not wanting to admit that while she’d had the exact same thought, deep down she didn’t quite believe, given her track record, that she was someone who could be trusted with the responsibility of masterminding her own life.

Chapter Nineteen

“Think Mary Poppins,”
Laura muttered to herself, lifting a shopping bag of homemade goodies out of the trunk of her car. “Better yet: Mrs. Doubtfire.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t have experience with children. Eight years with Evan, after all, had provided her with an impressive array of skills, everything from wiping noses and making the perfect peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich to intelligently discussing the
Wayne’s World
films and holding her own in video games.

But meeting Cam’s kids was different. She wasn’t trying to be their mother. Or their friend. Not even their au pair. As a matter of fact, her relationship with them wasn’t one mat she’d read, heard, or even thought much about. She was their father’s girlfriend, a role that in the movies was invariably played by a gum-chewing actress with a Marilyn Monroe body and a bubble of bleached-blond hair.

At least she didn’t fit that image. Dressed in jeans and her funkiest T-shirt, she looked more like a camp counselor. Even so, the fact that no amount of shopping at The Gap could override was that she was an outsider. And what she was attempting to do was impose herself on a close-knit group united by blood, common history, and its own glossary of terms for bathroom functions.

She wanted them to like her. She was
desperate
to have them like her. And that, she knew, put her in a difficult position. The danger of trying too hard—with disastrous results—loomed forbiddingly.

Warily Laura eyed the bag of treats she’d brought. She’d spent the entire day before in the kitchen. For weeks now she’d listened carefully as Cam talked lovingly about his kids, recording their likes and dislikes in the recipe-card file in her brain. For their initial meeting, she’d baked gingerbread for Cam’s oldest boy, fifteen-year-old Simon. She’d even packed a carton of heavy cream, hoping to impress the Woodward clan by inviting them to jump headfirst into decadence. For the others she made Toll House cookies—half with nuts, for twelve-year-old Zach; half without, for seven-year-old Emily. As an afterthought she stuck half a dozen copies of her books into the bag. If she couldn’t win them over, maybe Gertrude and Lenny could.

You can’t buy their love, an internal voice had warned.

No, came the response, but you can fill them so full of sugar and dairy fat that the idea of tolerating you seems palatable.

Laura was both dreading this first meeting and looking forward to it. She and Cam had decided that their relationship felt firm enough to assume it was going to continue for some time. So that meant including the junior members of each of their families.

“I’ll go first,” Laura had offered, wishing she were as brave as she sounded.

In a way, bringing Evan along would have made it easier. He was certainly good at providing distraction. Still, in their lengthy discussion, she and Cam had agreed that it made sense to let his kids get used to her before she brought in her sidekick. As for Evan, she decided, it couldn’t hurt to give him more time before forcing him to grapple with the fact that his mom had a new man in her life. His turn would come soon enough.

Laura lugged her hostess gift toward the front door, sneaking a peek through the living room window. There was one more aspect of this visit that made her apprehensive. She’d never seen Cam’s house before. Being with him in Alaska had been one thing. And that same sense of unreality—the feeling that this man, this magnificent man, had dropped from the sky, into her life—lingered as she saw him at her house, at restaurants in her area, at the movie theaters near her.

Now she was about to take her first peek into the real life of Dr. Cameron P. Woodward. His house, after all, was his nest. His kingdom. A reflection of his true self, the one reserved for the hours behind closed doors. What if she hated what she saw? What if his home revealed a side of him she found repugnant? Maybe the decorating theme was Early Pretentious or he left plastic slipcovers on the couch, cellophane on the lampshades, those annoying warning lags still attached to the throw pillows. Or maybe he’d surrounded himself with tackiness that would set her teeth on edge. Paintings of Elvis on velvet. Wooden magazine racks with appliqué’s of the Confederate flag. Shag carpeting.

And what if he
acted
different? So far, Laura had seen Cam in the roles of scientist and lover. Both were important, but they were only part of the whole man. What about Cam Woodward, father? What if he turned out to be too strict or too indulgent or guilty of a host of other parental offenses?

What if, upon seeing this contender for Mr. Right in his natural habitat, she wanted nothing more than to flee?

That might happen, she told herself, ringing the doorbell. But sooner or later you’ve got to find out.

The front door was opened not by Cam, but by a little girl with big brown eyes and long, dark brown hair. She was dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and a ruffled pink blouse.

“Hello,” Laura said gently. “You must be Emily. I’m Laura.”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“That’s a very good rule. But I’m not a stranger. I’m a friend of your dad’s—”

“Daddy told me not to let people I don’t know into the house.” Emily studied Laura solemnly.

“Didn’t your daddy tell you I was coming over today?” Laura’s cholesterol-laden shopping bag was getting heavy.

“Are you the giraffe lady?”

Giraffe lady, giraffe lady ... Suddenly Laura understood. “Gertrude Giraffe? Yes, that’s me. I write books for children about Ger—”

“How do I
know
it’s you?”

“Emily, who’s at the door?” Cam appeared behind the little girl. His expression softened the moment he spotted Laura. “Hi. I thought I heard your voice.”

“She
says
she’s the giraffe lady,” Emily explained, eyeing Laura warily. “But she couldn’t prove it.”

“This is Laura, Emily. She’s my new friend, the one I told you about.” Cam opened the door, giving her an apologetic look. “Come on in, giraffe lady.”

Walking inside, Laura smiled at Emily. “I brought chocolate-chip cookies. They’re made the way you like them, without nuts.”

Emily glanced up at her, suddenly shy. “Is that how Gertrude Giraffe likes them, too?”

Cam’s house, Laura was relieved to see, was as comfortable and easy as he was. There was an abundance of natural wood, showing up in the highly polished floors, the window frames, the simple furniture. Splashes of color dotted each room, mostly in the form of Mexican folk art. The various pieces had been picked up on field trips when he was a graduate student, long before his Alaska days, he explained as he gave her a quick tour. Colorful yam paintings and
molas
hung on the walls, and pillows covered in bright Guatemalan fabrics were nestled into the corner of the couch. Scattered throughout were bits and pieces from his work: fossils framed and hung on the walls, photographs of past field crews, the occasional animal skull.

“This is the boys’ room,” Cam announced after leading her upstairs. “Simon and Zach are up here, watching the game.”

“Hello,” she said stiffly, sticking her head in the doorway. She smiled again, feeling like a contestant in the Miss America Pageant. “Nice to meet you.”

The two boys, one sprawled on the floor, the other draped across one of the two single beds, grunted without glancing up. Like their sister, they had Cam’s dark eyes and hair.

“Want to see my room?” Emily asked.

Laura hadn’t even been aware she was behind her.

“Sure, Emily. I’d love to.”

Emily slipped her hand into Laura’s. “I’ll introduce you to my dolls. But you have to be very, very quiet. They’re sleeping.”

That’s one for female solidarity, thought Laura, heading toward the pink-and-lavender wonderland that was Emily’s room. If only I’d once been with the Miami Dolphins, maybe I’d be able to win over the whole lot.

“It’s good to have you here,” Cam told her once they were alone in the kitchen.

When he wrapped his arms around her, she clung to him tightly. “This is hard. How am I doing?”

“You’re doing great. Besides, you don’t have to knock yourself out trying to impress my kids.”

“I want them to like me.”

“They’ll like you. Once they get to know you, how could they not?”

Laura sighed. “I’m not sure it’s that simple. But I came prepared. Just give me a few minutes with an electric beater.”

“What have you got in there?” Cam peered into her shopping bag.

“Enough sweets for an all-you-can-eat dessert bar. You don’t mind if I make myself at home, do you?”

“Be my guest. In the meantime I’ll just run out for a minute. We’re out of milk. Besides,” Cam said, giving her a peck on the cheek, “having me out of the way will give you a chance to get to know the kids.”

Emily walked into the kitchen just as Laura had finished whipping the cream. The little girl stopped in her tracks, watching with wide eyes as she ran her finger through it, then took a lick.

“You can’t use that bowl,” Emily announced firmly.

“I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind.”

“But it’s not yours! You can’t use it!”

“Emily,” Laura said patiently, “I’m just mixing some whipped cream in it. I promise that as soon as I’m done—”

“It’s Nathan’s bowl.”

“You can assure Nathan I’m always very careful with other people’s things.”

“But Nathan’s not a people,” Emily protested. “He’s a snake.”

Laura looked down into the clear glass bowl, filled with whipped cream that only seconds before had been so appetizing. Given the way Emily was staring at her, she suspected that her face had turned green.

“It doesn’t have his germs on it or anything,” Emily reassured her. “He doesn’t eat out of it.”

Laura swallowed hard. “Uh, exactly what does Nathan use the bowl for?”

‘To take baths. Before it was Nathan’s bathtub, Daddy used it in his lab at school. Do you want to know what he kept in it then?”

Laura stared at her ringer, still partially covered with whipped cream. “Maybe you’d better not tell me.”

“Oooh, look! Here’s Nathan now! Oscar, too.”

“Oscar?” Laura repeated weakly.

“They’re named after hot dogs,” Simon explained. He walked into the kitchen with a snake coiled around his neck. Its narrow head was next to his cheek, its tongue darting out every few seconds. His brother, Zach, wore a matching reptile.

“Aren’t they cute?” Emily reached for Simon’s snake. “I want to hold Nathan.”

“It’s my turn,” Simon insisted.

“Can I hold yours, then?” Emily had turned to Zach.
“Please?”

“Let’s let Laura hold him,” said Zach.

Suddenly three pairs of eyes were on Laura. Five, if she counted Nathan and Oscar’s beady black ones.

“Gee, I really don’t think—”

“Please!” Emily pleaded, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

“They can’t hurt you,” said Simon. “They’re only babies.”

“Exactly what kind of, uh, snakes are Nathan and Oscar?” Laura was stalling, anxiously hoping Cam would appear.

“They’re boas.”

“Boas? As in boa constrictors?”

“Yes,” said Emily. “Please hold one!”

Laura swallowed hard. “I’ve never held a snake before. I wouldn’t want to hurt them.”

“You won’t,” Emily assured her. “Just sit down and I’ll put Nathan on you. He really likes crawling around on people. Just hold out your hands like this.... There!”

Laura sat very still, her mouth stretched into a stiff smile as she watched the baby boa slither around her wrist, through her fingers, onto her lap.

“See? He likes you!” Emily announced triumphantly.

Looking up and finding all three of Cam’s children watching her with approval, Laura felt it was almost—
almost
—worth it.

At least one thing’s becoming increasingly clear, she thought, bracing herself as Nathan began crawling up her forearm. This must be love.

* * * *

“Hello, Appleton Realty? I’m calling about your ad in today’s paper for the two-bedroom in Clover Hollow....”

Laura doodled nervously on the classified ads page of the Sunday paper as she listened to the nameless, faceless real estate agent at the other end of the line describe an apartment that sounded ideal. Brand-new kitchen, washer and dryer, gas and electric included ...