Tangled Thing Called Love (21 page)

Scully’s voice, high-pitched and excited. “Mazie? They just delivered the baby.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s terrific! Congratulations, Scully.”

“Yeah. It’s—I can’t—it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Is Emily—”

“Mom and baby both doing great. Seven pounds one ounce. Black hair.” His voice trembled and something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle came over the wires. “I held the baby for a few seconds before they took it away. You forget how tiny they are.”

“Can we come?”

“I guess that would be okay. Boys being good for you?”

“Ummm …”

Before she could answer, Scully hung up.

“Hey, guys,” Mazie said, smiling. “Your mom just had the baby.”

“Is it a boy?” asked Joey, who’d swaddled his thumb in so many 4th of July–motif Band-Aids it resembled a patriotic Popsicle.

“I forgot to ask,” Mazie admitted. “But we’ll find out when we get there.”

“We’re going to go see Mom?” Sam asked.

“In the hospital?” Joey asked.

She didn’t like the way the boys perked up at the word
hospital
. Hospitals contained all kinds of gadgets the twins would find intriguing, from the automatic doors to X-ray equipment.

“Listen, you two.” Mazie jabbed a finger into each skinny chest. “You are going to behave when we get there. You are not going to bring your spud gun. You are going to sit
quietly in your mother’s room. No racing in wheelchairs. No yanking on people’s IV lines. And the CAT-scan machine does not actually scan cats.”

The twins looked at each other. Wicked glints appeared in their eyes.

Wrong thing to say. Mazie knew it the minute it was out of her mouth.

Chapter Twenty-four

Annie Laurie Maguire was lying sound asleep in her father’s arms, wearing a tiny pink cap over her acres of black hair, her eyes tightly shut, her little mouth slightly working as though she were dreaming of sucking milk. It was a cliché, Mazie knew, but the baby’s mouth really did look like a rose, and it made her go all squishy inside.

Emily patted Mazie’s hand as though sensing her thoughts. Mazie had always liked Emily, who was much better than Scully deserved. She was very pretty, with dark, wavy hair and bright hazel eyes she’d passed along to Joey. Right now her face was still swollen with hormones and her hair was matted to her scalp, but she was exuding happiness in waves nearly visible to the human eye.

“Well, what do you guys think of your sister?” Emily asked the boys, who were standing so close to her bed they were practically in it, Sam absentmindedly stroking his mother’s arm, Joey with a strand of her hair wrapped around his finger.

Joey peered more closely at the baby. “Is it always going to be so ugly?”

“How come it’s so purple?” Sam asked. “It looks like a big prune!”

“It looks like the alien in that one movie,” Joey commented, “the one that explodes out of the giant centipede’s gut.”

Emily just laughed. “You’ll love your sister when she gets a little older.”

Both boys appeared to have doubts about this.

There was a rap on the door, then Ben Labeck poked his head around the corner.

“Should I come back later?”

“Hell no,” Scully called. “Come on in and meet my baby girl.”

Ben sidled in, a
Congratulations
balloon bobbing behind him. He carried two Shopko bags and a giant pink and blue flower arrangement in a vase.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous!” exclaimed Emily when she saw the flowers.

“The lady at the florist shop asked me if the baby was a boy or girl and I didn’t know, so she put in both colors, just to be on the safe side.”

“Emily,” Mazie said, “this is Ben Labeck. Ben, Emily Maguire.”

“I’d shake hands,” Emily said, “except they’re full of twins.”

Emily was going to be too weak to lift so much as a plate for a while, according to her doctor, so Mazie took charge of the flowers, removing the cellophane and setting them on a dresser. The bouquet was centered with tiny white bootees, arranged so they looked like knitted flowers. Mazie’s eyes suddenly filled up. What was it about baby bootees that set off her tear ducts? Was it the tininess of the things? She blinked away the tears, hoping nobody had noticed.

“What’s in those bags?” Sam asked, pointing.

“Something for the guys who are going to have the job of protecting the baby,” Ben said.

“Who?” Joey asked.

Ben raised his eyebrows at them.

The boys looked at each other, communicating in silent twin language. “I guess we could protect her,” Sam said. “We’re pretty strong.”

The packages turned out to contain Lego space stations. Prodded by their parents, Joey and Sam thanked Ben, then dashed out of the room to find a place to assemble the stations.

“You’re a doll to think of the boys,” Emily told Ben.

“Thought they might be feeling a little left out.”

Emily turned to Mazie. “Do not let this guy get away,” she whispered.

“Want to hold Annie?” Scully asked Ben.

“Uh … I don’t know. Do I have to put on a mask or something?”

“They’ve relaxed the rules these days,” Emily said. “Go ahead.”

Scully handed the baby to Labeck. Annie Laurie woke at that moment, yawned, and opened her eyes.

“That’s Uncle Ben, little girl,” Scully said, in a high-pitched baby-talk voice that made Mazie laugh out loud. It sounded like: “Dass Unca Ben, widdle giwl.”

Ben held the baby very carefully, his hands looking ridiculously large wrapped around her tiny body. If he resented being called Uncle Ben by a family he was not married into, he didn’t protest. He seemed to enjoy holding the tiny bundle, making little cooing noises to her and gently bouncing her, smiling at her as she stared nearsightedly up at him.
She flexed her feet and her socks came off. Ben kissed the bottoms of her tiny pink soles, then kissed her toes. “Does this widdle girl have teeny, weeny piggies? Yes, she does!”

Mazie and Emily grinned at each other, and Mazie was sure the only reason Emily wasn’t indulging in a full-fledged belly laugh was because of her stitches.

“You can get one of those of your own, you know,” Scully said, watching Ben pace around the room with the baby.

Mazie had to clasp the base of the flower arrangement so her hand wouldn’t treacherously shoot up while she yelled, “I volunteer!” The idea of having Ben Labeck’s baby was very appealing. If only there was some way to guarantee it would be an Annie and not a Sam or Joey.

Labeck walked over to Mazie with Annie Laurie. Mazie touched the baby’s tiny palm with a forefinger and found it grasped with a surprisingly strong grip.

“You’re crying,” Labeck whispered. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said shakily. “Just—babies make me cry.”

“Is it because she won’t let go of your finger?”

Mazie laughed. “No, you idiot.”

He stroked the back of Annie Laurie’s hand and her grip relaxed.

Mazie gently removed her finger. “Oh—neat. Where’d you learn that trick?”

“Sisters.” Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, “Scale of one to ten, how mad are you at me?”

“It just went down to zero. Babies have that effect.”

“Chances of forgiveness?”

Mazie just smiled.

“Chances we’ll ever have any private time together?” Labeck whispered.

“One in a million.”

Emily needed her rest, so after a few more minutes, Mazie collected the boys and left. Ben followed. Their new Lego sets in hand, Sam and Joey clambered into Scully’s pickup truck, which Mazie had driven to the hospital, and immediately set to work building spaceships on its front seat. Scully was going to be picking Lego pieces off his backside for years, Mazie thought.

Ben walked around to the driver’s side, set his hands around Mazie’s waist, and
lifted her into the seat. His strength and power thrilled her. Atavistic, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. He pulled a brown paper hardware store bag out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“Everyone else got a baby day gift. You should, too.”

She dug into the bag and pulled out a pointy, hexagonal cylinder made of metal and attached to a string. It looked like the unloved ornament people hung on the back of their Christmas tree.

“It’s a plumb bob,” Labeck explained, seeing her look of puzzlement.

“Oh.
Oh
. So I can fix my tree house.”

“I would have gotten you sorry-I-screwed-up flowers, but every girl gets those.”

“Right.” Mazie held up the plumb bob, letting it swing, catching the light. “Who wants flowers when you can have a plumb bob?”

“Lemme see that,” said Sam, who obviously appreciated the doohickey more than his aunt did. She handed it to him. Probably she’d never get it back, but that was okay.

Labeck rested his arms on the windowsill and gazed at her. “I’m sorry I insulted your tree house.”

“No—I’m sorry, Ben. It was a stupid idea, bringing you up there. I never think before I do things. And I’m sorry for saying that stuff about—”

“Forget it, Mazie—you were right about me. I had it coming.”

“I was so worried about you. When you didn’t come back last night, I thought you were so mad you’d left for good.”

“It would take a hell of a lot more than that to keep me away.” He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling, but looking very tired. “It was five in the morning before we wrapped up at the rescue site and then the firemen invited me and some of the reporters to go out to breakfast with them. When I finally got back to your house, nobody was there, so I phoned the hospital and found out Emily had the baby.”

“I’m glad you got to see her.”

“I like babies.”

Mazie fiddled with the rearview mirror, then turned and looked back at Ben. “About this pageant: you were right—it’s totally self-indulgent on my part. I’m going to
drop out.”

“No, you are not dropping out,” Ben said sharply. “I’ve been kicking myself all day for saying that stuff. That was just me being a jealous jerk. I’d be the same way if you were off building Tree Houses for Humanity. Because I want you all to myself, all the time.”

“Oh, Ben, that’s so—”

He leaned into the truck. Their lips met. Mazie closed her eyes, savoring every sweet second of their kiss.

“Eww, gross,” Sam said.

Joey made realistic retching noises.

Ben and Mazie broke apart, smiling, looking into each other’s eyes. Certain things still remained unresolved between them, but at the moment Mazie didn’t care.

“I miss spending time with you, too,” she whispered. “If you’d like, I can arrange for us to be together all afternoon.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up. “Where?”

“At the farmhouse. Just you, me, and the twins.”

His face fell. “Oh, man, did I walk into that one.”

Chapter Twenty-five

“You’re up after this number,” Channing informed Mazie. Channing was wearing a green and gold Quail Hollow cheerleading outfit, complete with short pleated skirt and pompoms on her shoes. Her talent had been an old high school cheer routine, and Mazie was surprised that Channing could still remember the cheers years later, much less perform the splits.

Channing had been first up on the talent program and now, with the lighthearted air of one for whom the worst is over, was helping with the backstage stuff—the sound system, the costume changes, the props. The pageant’s talent portion was being held in the early evening because the auditorium was booked for another event later on.

Mazie felt breathless and dizzy. She’d arrived late because Scully, who was supposed to take over twin-sitting duty, hadn’t been back on time. Having missed the rehearsal time she’d counted on, she was feverishly trying to pull on the long black skirt and a black long-sleeved T-shirt, a last-minute substitute for the burned blouse.

“Here, let me.” Holly came up behind and pulled up her skirt zipper.

“Thanks,” Mazie said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here to watch your act. Did your stir-fry go okay?”

Holly beamed. “Perfect. I didn’t chop off a single finger. I practiced that dish for hours last night. I now have a kitchenful of Szechuan chicken. You have to come over tonight and help us eat it—bring along that makes-me-weak-in-the-knees guy of yours.”

“Sorry, can’t. We’re doing the reenactment tonight. I’m going to be playing Fawn. We’re filming on the actual spot on that dead-end road where her truck was found.”

“You’re on in four minutes, Mazie,” Channing reminded her.

Oh, God—where was her keyboard? She planned to play
Für Elise
, and even though she’d practiced it only once, she was confident she could get through it okay—the piece sounded impressive but was actually simple enough for grade school recitals.

There was the keyboard—exactly where she’d left it yesterday, tucked away behind a theater backdrop: a battered but serviceable electronic keyboard that belonged to the
school. Rolling it away from the wall, Mazie turned on the power switch. Her finger came away sticky.

Sticky?

The dim backstage light made it hard to see, but the keys seemed to be coated in a gunky, transparent film. The stuff was all over! On the keys, seeping into the innards, puddling on the floor. Baby oil? Shampoo? She tasted it with the tip of her tongue.

Corn syrup!

Pressing her fingers to the keys, Mazie attempted the opening notes of
Für Elise
. The sound came out muffled and clunky; the keys wouldn’t go down all the way. The keyboard was wrecked, unplayable.

Punked again!
What next, a bucket of pig’s blood dumped from the rafters, à la
Carrie
?

“What’s wrong?” Holly asked.

“I’ve been syruped,” Mazie said.

“Your keyboard!” Holly gasped. “I don’t believe this! Okay, don’t panic, hon—we can borrow a keyboard from the band room.”

Mazie shook her head. “All the keyboards are locked up for the summer.”

Channing hurried over.

“Somebody sabotaged Mazie’s keyboard,” Holly told her.

Channing’s eyes widened. “Can’t you clean it off?”

“Not unless you happen to have some giant pancakes handy,” Mazie said.