The Hearts We Mend (11 page)

Lily, God bless her, came to his rescue.

“Evie wants to know how much spaghetti she should make.”

What was it? Wednesday? Jack made a quick calculation.

“All of it.”

“All . . .” Evie looked down at the box. “This would feed the entire neighborhood.”

“Yup.” Ron's chuckle turned into another wrenching cough that made Jack's lungs hurt just listening to it. “That's about right, isn't it, Jack?”

Jack shot him a look. “If there are leftovers, I'll send them home with Nicki.”

He retreated to the spare bedroom to retrieve Grace. She was sitting in the center of the bed, peering at Jack over the hedge of pillows he'd built around her.

“Da!” Grace managed to shout the word around the thumb tucked into the side of her cheek.

“Hey, Amazing Grace.” Jack squeezed out a smile as he scooped her up. “It's Uncle Jack, remember?”

He and Nicki's children weren't related by blood, but Cheryl and Travis's wedding had merged their two families together, for better or for worse. Jack wasn't about to get bogged down in technicalities. Luke and Ava heard Lily refer to him as Uncle Jack, so that's what he'd become. To all of them.

“Da.”
Grace melted against Jack and patted his shoulder.

Moments like this, Jack thought, should be enough for a guy to get his head on straight. Unfortunately, Victor, Grace's dad, was a look-out-for-number-one kind of guy.

Nicki's first marriage, at the ripe old age of eighteen, had lasted long enough to produce Luke and Ava, but Victor had convinced her to move in with him when she'd found out she was pregnant with Grace.

Jack had only met Nicki's controlling ex-boyfriend once, when he'd shown up at Cheryl and Travis's house the day after Nicki left him. But he had seen the bruises the guy had left on her face . . . and her soul.

Cheryl and Travis had reluctantly let Nicki and the kids stay with them until she got back on her feet, but even now, when she was out on her own and struggling to put the past behind her, Victor didn't want to let go.

A crash came from the direction of the living room, and Grace's thumb popped out of her mouth. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh is right. I think your brother's tower came down.”

Or—Jack tried not to cringe when he stepped through the doorway—all the mismatched plastic storage containers on the top shelf of the pantry did.

Evie stood in the center of the debris field, clutching a plastic colander.

“Sorry. I should have warned you the conditions were right for an avalanche.” Jack moved to help, but Ava intercepted him before he reached the kitchen.

“Twirl me, Uncle Jack!”

Ava loved to dance. And who was strong enough to resist the plea in those big brown eyes?

“A question for heaven, Luke.” Jack settled Grace against his hip with one hand and spun Ava in a slow circle with the other. “Why did God give an octopus eight arms, but people only get two? I mean, think of all the things I could do with eight arms. I could make spaghetti and twirl your sister and paint the wall and talk on the phone—”

“And pet Harley,” Ava giggled.

“And pet Harley.”

“And play the saxophone!” Lily flew to Jack's side. “Twirl
me
now!”

Jack lifted Ava off her feet and gently swung her onto the couch. Ron was thumbing through a rumpled copy of last week's newspaper, oblivious to the chaos going on around him.

Grace's chortle of laughter sent the black-and-white cat diving for cover as Jack took his niece by the hand.

When he finally released her, breathless and laughing, Lily pointed at Evie. “Now it's her turn!”

C
HAPTER
15

J
ack made the mistake of looking at Evie.

What would she do if he took her hand and twirled her around the living room?

And why was he even
thinking
crazy stuff like that?

He'd invaded Evie Bennett's personal space once before, and it could have cost him his job.

“I really should be getting home.” Evie's hands locked together at her waist.

Jack didn't have to be an expert in reading people's body language to know what that meant. No twirling for her.

“Aren't you going to stay for supper?” Lily looked puzzled. She'd visited Jack's apartment frequently enough to know that everyone who walked through the door after four o'clock ended up sitting at the table.

The newspaper dropped an inch. “There's plenty. Not always edible, but plenty.”

And just for that . . .

“Here.” Jack deposited Grace in Ron's lap. His neighbor immediately started to protest, shaking and sputtering like the building's outdated copper pipes. “You can keep Grace occupied while I finish making supper.”

Someone rapped on the door, and Lily dashed to open it, Luke and Ava on her heels.

Evie had the Alice look on her face again when Bernadette Fraser marched in.

“The change machine in the laundry room isn't working again. I lost fifty cents.” Bert, one of the tenants who lived on the third floor, walked like a soldier and wore Hawaiian-print housecoats that ended where the wrinkled folds of her nylon stockings began. “And someone broke the light in the back stairwell again. I swept up the glass, but I can't reach the fixture without a ladder.”

Bert updated the building report on a daily basis.

The items she'd mentioned were easy enough to fix. If Jack didn't have four little helpers until Nicki's shift ended.

“I'll have everything fixed before I leave for work in the morning.”

Bert acknowledged Jack's promise with a cautious smile, proof that after years of being ignored by the landlord, she was finally beginning to believe
him
.

“Here.” Jack mined a few quarters from the front pocket of his jeans. “This'll cover what you lost.”

The change disappeared into the stained pocket of the floral housecoat. “Something smells good.” Bert's nose twitched underneath her tortoiseshell bifocals. “Manna again, Jack?”

“That's right.” A gift from heaven . . . and double coupon day at Truitt's Supermarket.

“No, it isn't! It's spaghetti!” Ava, Luke, and Lily folded over on themselves, laughing.

“Spaghetti.” Bert hummed the word like she hadn't eaten it before.

Hadn't eaten it the last three evenings she'd shown up at his door.

“You're welcome to stay.”

“I don't know.” Bert might not be shy about letting Jack know when something in the building required his attention, but she hesitated every time he focused his attention on
her
. She would rock in place, as if weighing his sincerity. Or maybe, weighing her worth.

“There's more than enough,” Evie said.

And Jack suddenly remembered his manners. “Evie, this is Bernadette—”

“Bert,” she interrupted. “My mother only called me Bernadette when I was in trouble.”

“Bert,” Jack amended. “This is Evie Bennett.”

“It's nice to meet you, Bert.” Evie held out her hand, but Bert ignored it and hugged her instead.

“Now I know why Jack has been whistling the past few days. A man always whistles when he's in love.”

Jack had assumed that playing in clubs with Travis's band once in a while had permanently disabled his ability to blush, but no. He felt the heat wash over his jaw.

“Evie and I work in the same building, Bert.” Same building, different job descriptions. Different everything. “She drove Nicki's kids over because there wasn't enough room for everyone in my truck.”

“Glen and I met at work too—”

A noise in the kitchen snagged Jack's attention, and he glanced over just in time to see water cascade over the side of the kettle and flood the burner underneath.

Evie got to it first.

She'd turned the heat down and was already blotting up the overflow with a towel by the time Jack reached her side.

“You should have run when you had the chance.” Steam rose from the sink as Jack poured the pasta and what was left of the water through the colander. “Things can get a little hectic around here at dinnertime.”

Another knock at the door proved it.

Evie took one look at the lanky adolescent boy who followed Jack into the apartment and hoped she hadn't been lying when she'd told Bernadette—
Bert
—that there was plenty. When Cody was that age, he could practically eat his weight in pasta.

She stole another glance at the odd collection of people gathered in the living room. Ava and Lily were stretched out on the floor, watching Bert and Luke build another tower. The black-and-white cat had wandered over and was batting at one of the silk ribbons dangling from Ava's butterfly wings.

Ron from 3C was entertaining Grace by reading the sports section out loud, but she seemed more interested in watching the boy unload the contents of his backpack onto the coffee table.

Jack returned and grabbed the dishrag from the sink. “I'm sorry.”

“I have a son, remember? I'm used to cleaning up spills.”

“I'm sorry because you can't leave now.”

Evie's head snapped around. “Why not?”

Jack transferred the spaghetti from the saucepan into an enormous glass bowl. “Because you strike me as the kind of person who understands iambic pentameter.”

Evie narrowed her eyes. “What
kind
of person understands iambic pentameter?”

“The kind of person who keeps a book of poetry on her desk.”

Evie knew that Jack cleaned her office, but it was a little unsettling to discover that he'd taken an inventory of the contents. What else had he noticed?

“Josh is in summer school, and English lit wasn't exactly my best subject. I was hoping you could help him out.”

Evie's cell phone began to vibrate in her purse. Melanie, no doubt. Wondering if she planned to go to the watercolor class.

A heavy sigh from the boy on the couch made up Evie's mind.

“I can take a look at it.”

“Great . . . but you have to eat first. Like you told Bert, there's more than enough.” Jack dropped a wooden spoon into the kettle of marinara sauce and clapped his hands together. “Okay, everyone, supper's ready. Come over here and wash your hands before you sit down.”

Evie couldn't help but notice that Ron was the only one who grumbled as he handed Grace off to Bert and took his place at the end of the line.

She moved to the side while Jack supervised the washing and drying of little hands.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Jack held Ava up to the sink. “There's a gallon of milk in the fridge. Plastic cups in the cupboard.”

Evie found it hidden in the door next to a bottle of ketchup, checked the expiration date, and began to measure it into the glasses.

“Lily, can you get the tablecloth out of the drawer?”

“I've got it, Jack.” Bert stepped around Evie and pulled out a piece of blue-and-white checkered fabric.

It wasn't until Evie smoothed down one of the corners that she realized the tablecloth was a crisp, twin-size bedsheet.

Lily circled the table, carefully centering a paper plate in front of every chair. Jack followed, depositing a small mountain of pasta on each one.

Ron shuffled over and dropped into the folding chair at the head of the table. Jack took Grace from Bert's arms and eased her into the chair across from Evie.

“You don't have a highchair?”

“No.” Jack's wry smile—the one that never failed to make Evie want to smile back—surfaced. “I'm kind of winging it here.”

It didn't appear that way.

“I'll show you something my mother taught me when Cody was
that age.” Evie went back to the kitchen and pulled a large flour sack towel from the drawer.

Jack had anticipated her next move and grabbed one of the pillows off the couch while Evie folded the towel into a triangle. Grace threaded her chubby fingers through Evie's hair while she secured her into the chair.

“Uh-oh!”

Jack's husky laugh rumbled through Evie as she carefully extracted her hair from the toddler's grip. “I think Grace is trying to tell you that if she's stuck here, so are you.”

I don't feel stuck.

The thought unfurled, surprising Evie.

Jack
surprised her.

Nothing seemed to throw him off. He switched gears with patience and humor, teasing one moment, serious the next.

There were no awkward silences during dinner because there was no silence at all.

A cacophonous melody played in the background. Upstairs, the creak of the floor was synced to someone walking back and forth and the sharp, unhappy bleats of a baby crying. Outside Jack's building, a steady hum from the factory was punctuated by horns honking and the occasional burst of laughter from the group of men loitering in the doorway of the bar. The volume of both the music and the laughter increased as the sun started to set.