Ride the Rainbow Home (2 page)

"Surely you know someone better qualified, someone who knows about kids? I mean, what if I hurt one of them?" Meg snatched her expensive suede purse into her lap just as jelly-covered fingers reached for it.

"Come here, Isabel. Let me wash those hands," Frank said, grabbing the three-year-old and heading for the kitchen. He still had the same dark good looks and football- player build Meg remembered.

"I told you on the phone," Sally answered as she put the second infant to breast. "Mother is taking an anniversary cruise with her new husband, Mother Garcia is busy with her sick sister, and Frank's sisters have newborns of their own. You were the only person I could think of. Besides, it's high time you came for a visit."

Meg thought she heard censure in Sally's voice. She shrugged. "My life is in California, Sal."

"We appreciate your coming." Frank, back from the kitchen sink, picked up Meg's bags and started down the hall, shaking off a toddler as he went. "Sally really needs you." Meg had the sneaking suspicion he was trying to forestall her retreat. "We'll put you in Isabel's room."

"That's not necessary." Meg trotted after him, suddenly sure she'd made a mistake. "I can get a motel. I expected to." She reached for the handles of her bags.

"Nonsense." Frank warded her off. "We can't send you to a motel. Besides, Sally may need you in the evenings."

That's what I'm afraid of
, Meg thought as she followed Frank. She almost said it aloud. He set her bags beside a child-sized bed. Meg guessed she'd have almost enough room to stretch if she didn't mind her hands and feet dangling over.

"Just make yourself at home," Frank said. "We cleared out the top drawers and the right side of the closet. There are extra blankets if you need them and the bathroom's across the hall. I think you'll be comfortable."

Maybe when Tucson freezes over
, Meg thought as she resigned herself. Putting on a hopeful smile, she asked, "How long can you stay to help?"

"I'll be here tomorrow for the holiday," he answered, "then I'll have to leave first thing Tuesday." Meg thought he looked relieved. "I took family leave time at first, but I've just about used it up. The company has me repairing a power station near Phoenix that was damaged when the Salt River flooded. I'll be home on weekends and holidays, of course. Other than that, Sally would be on her own if it weren't for you. We're awfully glad to see you, Meg."

"Yes, well. . ." Meg decided a small social lie was appropriate. "I'm glad I could come."

Later, as she lay curled in Isabel's bed, she calmed herself by reciting her promise: she would help with the housework so Sally could watch the babies and recuperate from her surgery. But now, having seen both Sally and Frank in action, she knew she was unlikely to get off that easily. Four pre-schoolers were enough to drain both their parents, and they knew what they were doing!

Still wondering whether this was why she had saved all those weeks of vacation, Meg drifted off, her sleep bothered once or twice by crying infants, her dreams invaded often by a beautiful man whose skin shone golden in the sunlight.

* * * *

"Any new men in town?" Meg kept the question casual as she stretched her legs on Sally's back lawn. It was the first time the women had sat down since the circus they called breakfast.

"Why? You meet somebody?"

"No, of course not." Meg didn't meet Sally's eyes. "I just wondered what the prospects were--you know, for the women here."

Sally moved one fussy infant into the shade of the mesquite tree and scolded her daughter. "Isabel, stop teasing the cat!" She turned back to Meg. "There are some interesting men around." She lifted her brows, her voice rich with meaning. "Danny Sherwood's still here."

Meg groaned. "Spare me."

"You had quite a crush once."

"That was a long time ago, when I was young and stupid. Besides, isn't he married? I heard he and Lucretia Vanetti--"

"Ancient history. You're right; he's a jerk. Cretia got smart last year. She went around telling everybody how he hit her when he-- Tommy, shame on you! Get that out of your mouth!" She wiped Tommy's face and sighed. "How he hit her when he came home drunk. He denied it, of course, but the divorce went through just the same. But there are other men." Sally lifted one eyebrow. "Little Jimmy McAllister's still here."

"That's good." Meg kept her voice neutral. "I hope to see him while I'm here, but you know that's not what I mean, Sally. I'm asking about
interesting
men."

Sally shrugged. "People change. Darn, Sammy's crying again."

"Sally, how do you do it? I can't even tell which twin is which."

"You can't?" Sally's stare was incredulous.

"No. Aren't they identical?"

Sally giggled. "You're kidding, right?" Meg shook her head while Sally erupted into laughter.

"Why? What's funny?"

"I ought to have you change their diapers. Then you'd know."

Meg blanched. "Oh, no. Don't tell me I confused--"

"A boy and a girl. Samuel and Serena." Sally hee-hawed and slapped her leg. "Oh, Meg, thanks. That's the best laugh I've had all week!"

"I couldn't tell," Meg said defensively. "They look pretty much alike with their diapers on. Besides, when you told me their names were Sammy and Serena, I assumed Sammy was short for Samantha."

"Meg, you're hopeless. They're not at all alike. Samuel is smaller than his sister and Serena has more hair."

Meg examined the infants. "I told you I don't know anything about babies, but now that you mention it . . ." She pointed. "Serena?"

"See? It's not so tough."

"It is," Meg answered. "It is tough. I'm surprised you're not a basket case. Honestly, I don't know how you do it."

Sally sobered. "It's what I wanted, Meg. You know that. All through school you had your college applications and your dreams of a career. All I ever wanted was a home and family."

"I'll bet you didn't expect to have them all at once!"

Sally laughed derisively. "Oh, no! That isn't the way we planned it, but when does anything ever go as planned?" She shifted her position and picked up Serena, who was whimpering again. "Speaking of plans, the town's having the usual Fourth of July picnic. With Frank here, maybe the three of us can manage. What do you think?"

"The town picnic, huh? What are they raising funds for this year?"

Sally tilted her chin. "How did you know?"

"They're always raising funds for something."

"A water tanker for the volunteer fire department. The Connors' mobile home burned last winter. Trucks came from Holbrook, but all they could do was spread a little water on the ashes."

"I'm surprised they're not raising funds for the Connors."

Sally rolled her eyes. "We did that
months
ago. Then Father Muldowney and Reverend Phelps organized the parish and the church to do a house-raising. The Connors have a nicer place now than they did before the fire."

"Yep, that sounds like Rainbow Rock," Meg admitted. Even when the town had been stabbing her in the back, she had always known it would be there to cover her back, if she needed it. "So tell me about the picnic."

"The usual," Sally answered. "Watermelon, homemade apple pie, three-legged races. . ."

"Pony rides and a dunk tank?"

"Probably. Sound fun?"

Meg grinned. "Yeah, it kind of does. I might just let you talk me into it."

Sally winked. "Of course you will. What else are friends for?"

Meg asked herself that question often during the next several hours as she swept floors and ran the vacuum, helped the children pick up toys, folded diapers, whipped up a simple lunch, and began washing her way through a mound of dirty dishes. She had never imagined the work that went into tending four young children.

But Sally’s good at it
, she reflected as she finished the dishes. She watched her friend read a nap-time story to Tommy and Isabel, the little girl turning the pages while Sally juggled both babies. Despite being only three weeks out of a cesarean delivery, Sally was the picture of maternal love and patience. She also kept a well-appointed home. There had been a place for everything when Meg helped the children put toys away, and the diapers had gone into the closet next to tidy stacks of sheets sorted by size and towels sorted by color. Deciding that such heroic effort deserved aid, Meg promised herself she would try harder. She'd be unable to cope with the infants, of course, but three- year-old Isabel was only a little younger than Kyle had been when she tended him, and eighteen-month-old Tommy was adorable. With a little luck, she might get through these next few weeks, and be an asset to Sally in the bargain.

* * * *

"Admit it, Meg. You're having fun." Frank lifted Isabel from the pony she had just ridden for the fifth time.

"You're right, I am." The picnic was everything she'd remembered, right down to the fresh peach pie competition, which Mrs. Peterson had won for the twelfth year in a row. Though Meg had seen several people she remembered, no one had recognized her, and Sally, amused by the charade, had introduced her simply as "my friend Meg."

"Say, Frank, do you think you and Sally could manage without me for a few minutes? I'd like to find the women's room."

"Sure, no problem. It's in the dressing rooms for the pool, other side of the park."

"I remember. I'll be back."

It didn't take her long to reach the rest rooms, but one look at the line let her know she'd be there a while. As she waited, a woman in front of her laughed in an attention- grabbing way, and Meg recognized Kimberly McCray, president of their senior class and head cheerleader. She almost spoke--until she recalled the last time she had spoken to Kim McCray. It had been the Monday after the senior prom when Kim had approached her in front of the entire gym class to ask, loudly, how the old maids' party had gone. Meg turned toward the rear of the line.

When she came out a few minutes later, that same giveaway laughter alerted her that Kim was chatting with friends and they were in the direction she had intended to go. Meg chose to walk the other way, brushing under a mulberry tree as she came around the back of the carnival games, catching stray leaves in her hair.

She looked up, still brushing leaves, and saw him again.

He was in the dunk tank, his back to her, his impressive body bare except for swimming trunks and speckled by the spotty, late-afternoon light that filtered through the cottonwoods, his lion's mane wet and dripping behind him. Meg immediately recognized the man from the bluff; her breath caught in her throat as she turned in his direction. His golden skin was damp and glistening, his hair dark with moisture. Walking without feeling her feet, Meg approached from behind the cage, drawn inexplicably forward as if she knew him, as if she had always known him. Her lips parted and one hand rose involuntarily, as if to touch that warm, damp flesh.

"Meg!" Frank's voice startled her out of her spell. He was in the crowd just to the side of the tank.

Reluctantly Meg looked up.

"I thought we'd lost you!" Frank called, adding, "We're having some watermelon before we leave. Meet us there when you're ready."

Meg nodded as Frank disappeared into the crush. She looked quickly back at the golden man, fearing that Frank's shouted conversation had attracted his attention, fearing even more that he had simply vanished, a figment of her imagination. As she turned, he did vanish. She gasped, and then realized that the boy in front of the booth had struck a bull's-eye.

The crowd roared as the man's perfect form dropped from sight, raising a plume of water that overflowed the tank. He came up sputtering, taunting the crowd, and Meg caught a glimpse of his profile as he turned.
I have to see his face
. It was more a drive than a thought, and it propelled her between the booths to the front of the tank. She arrived just as he climbed out, his back to her, a towel thrown across his broad shoulders.

"Ya done good, Jim!" someone called.

"Thanks, Tom," he answered. The sound of his voice caused a warm curling in her belly. Astonished at herself, Meg pushed through the crowd, drawing near. Then there he was, an arm's reach away.

He was tall, with a face just as fascinating as the rest of him--a strong jawline, boldly chiseled cheekbones, and a straight, patrician nose leading to a shy, slightly crooked grin. His features were also strangely familiar, almost as if she did know him, and yet she couldn't--could she? And yet there was something about his eyes...

He looked up as she approached, smiling tentatively, then paused, studying her. "Peggy? Peggy Taylor?"

Meg gasped.

The man stepped toward her. "Peggy?" he asked again. "It is you, isn't it?"