Yesterday's Embers (19 page)

It never crossed her mind that they might make a baby together.

K
ayeleigh’s legs felt like lead as she trudged back to the master bedroom. She could hear Sarah and Sadie laughing with Miss Valdez in the kitchen. They got the easy job and she got stuck cleaning Mom and Dad’s room—Dad and
her
room, she corrected herself.

She paused in the hallway outside the half-closed door, sucking in a shallow breath. She could hardly stand to look at the bed and think about Dad sharing it with her. Until last night, the queen-size bed hadn’t been made since that terrible Thanksgiving morning. Now it was neatly made up, the pillows stacked just so against the headboard.

Apparently Miss Valdez wasn’t only a neat freak at the daycare. Dad had made them clean the whole house before they
went to Wren’s—before he ran off and got married without even asking what they thought about it.

But apparently that wasn’t good enough for
her
.

Miss Valdez must have made a big deal over what a mess the house was, and Dad cracked down on all of them. He’d been a big crab since the minute they got home. Not that she actually heard Miss Valdez say anything, but Kayeleigh wasn’t blind. Kayeleigh had seen the look on
her
face when she’d stepped through the door with all the junk from her house in town. Home from the honeymoon and making herself right at home in their house.
Mom’s
house. It made Kayeleigh want to throw up.

Ever since she’d walked through that door as Dad’s new wife, they couldn’t leave so much as a Kleenex lying around without Dad climbing all over their case. Just this morning he’d chewed their butts again about not doing a good enough job of cleaning last time. So now they had to spend the whole night on another stupid cleaning spree.

Dragging a giant black trash bag behind her, she pushed the door open and crept into the room as if there might be a boogeyman waiting there for her.

She
was
a little embarrassed at how messy the house had gotten since Mom die—She stopped the word from forming in her mind. Since Thanksgiving. She really had tried to keep things straightened up, just in case Mom could see them from heaven. But no matter how she tried, it never lasted for long.

Since Grandma had moved back to Florida, Wren had come out a couple of times to help, but with Harley running around messing stuff up as fast as they could clean it, it wasn’t easy. Not to mention Landon the Slob.

Gathering up the trash throughout the house had always been her chore. No big deal usually, but today it felt like climbing that mountain they’d studied about in geography last week—Mount Everest. It felt as if she were carrying a thousand pounds on her back as she walked through the bedroom to the master bath.

Mom’s little basket of makeup and perfume was gone from the counter, and Mickey’s things sat in its place.

For a long time after Mom died, this room had smelled like her—a sweet vanilla and baby powder scent. It smelled different now. Like
her
. Mom’s dingy pink bathrobe that used to hang on the back of the door had been replaced with Mickey’s fancy lavender robe. After Mom died, Kayeleigh used to sneak in here and bury her face in the folds of that pink robe, wrap the sleeves around her shoulders and pretend Mom was giving her a hug.

She reached out and fingered the sleeve of Mickey’s robe, feeling like she was doing something forbidden—and wishing she could wad the robe up and stuff it down the toilet.

She took a ragged breath and looked past Mickey’s bottles and sprays lined up on the long countertop. Mom had always said that when Kayeleigh and Rachel were both teenagers, the four girls could move into this room with its separate bath and twin sinks. She’d dreamed about that day—she and Rachel had looked through the JCPenney catalog one autumn day, picking out the bedspreads and rugs they would have ordered if they were teenagers. Her throat closed up, and she put a hand on her chest and sucked in a breath. She hadn’t thought of that memory with Rachel since that day.

She would never share this bedroom with Rachel. She didn’t think she ever wanted this room now, even if Dad would let her. It would just be too weird.

She emptied the overflowing wastebasket from under Dad’s sink into the trash bag. She opened the cabinet under Mom’s sink. The little wicker trash basket was almost empty since she’d cleaned in here last week. It held a few tissues and a contact lens package that must have been Mickey’s. Thanks to Mickey, Dad had ordered her to empty out all the cupboards and scrub everything top to bottom. It was his stupid bedroom. Why didn’t he do it if it was so important that it be spotless for
her
?

She yanked the trash basket out and piled the stack of clean towels beside it—the ones Mom only got out when they had company staying overnight.

She dropped to her knees and stooped to look into the cupboard. A handful of trash had apparently missed the basket and collected in the corner. She wrinkled her nose and scooped everything to the front of the cupboard. A lipstick-stained Kleenex floated to the floor. That pretty peach color Mom always wore. Gingerly, Kayeleigh smoothed the tissue out on her knee and stared at the perfect, pouty lip prints, trying to remember Mom’s smile, the twinkle her blue eyes always held when she laughed.

The image wouldn’t come.

Mom had only been gone a few months, and Kayeleigh had already forgotten what she looked like. Dad had taken down all the pictures of Mom and put away the photo albums before he ran off and got married. Now Kayeleigh didn’t know where they were. Maybe she would search for them. She had a right to a picture of her own mother.

But it bothered her that she couldn’t remember. By heart. And if she couldn’t remember now, what would she remember a year from now? Or two? Or on her own wedding day?

She put her face in her hands. Why did it still hurt so bad to think about Mom? Grandma said that as time passed, memories of Mom would make her smile again. But that hadn’t happened yet. Mostly she wanted to not think about any of it—Mom, Dad and Miss Valdez…It all just hurt too much.

She folded the tissue into a tight square and tucked it in her pocket, careful not to tear it. With a square of paper towel, she swept the rest of the trash into the wastebasket. She tipped it upside down over the open garbage bag, but the bag shifted and trash scattered every which way. Something clattered onto the tile floor and a flash of purple plastic caught her eye as it slid across the tile, then came to rest against the baseboard. She scrambled to retrieve it.

Picking it up with two fingers, she inspected the odd object. It looked like a thermometer. But they didn’t have a thermometer like this. At least Kayeleigh had never seen one. Mom always used one of those strips you put on your forehead.

Besides, if this was a thermometer, why would Mom have thrown it away? She looked closer and her stomach knotted. It
wasn’t
a thermometer. It was—She turned the thing over. The initials
e.p.t
. were printed in blue on the plastic case.

Wait a minute…She’d seen TV commercials for this thing. Mom hardly ever let them watch TV, but they watched it all the time now. Usually Dad made them change the channel when commercials for “lady stuff,” as he called it, came on. But she’d seen enough of them to know some stuff.

She turned the plastic thing over again and studied it. There was a little window on one end with a blue plus sign showing in the opening. She knew what that meant. It meant positive. It meant a woman was pregnant. The couple on TV always kissed and smiled, all happylike, when they saw that plus sign.

But why was there one of these pregnancy test things in the trash can? Her breath caught.
Miss Valdez
. She’d used this bathroom last night, taken a shower and dressed in here this morning. Kayeleigh looked at the blue plus sign again and caught her breath. Was Miss Valdez
pregnant
? That’s what a plus sign meant. At least that’s what the commercials said.

She glanced back toward the bedroom. Dad had packed up the crib and moved Harley into Kayeleigh’s bedroom the first night Miss Valdez had moved in. Kayeleigh liked having Harley in her room, but tried hard not to think about
why
they’d wanted the crib out of their room. About Dad and Miss Valdez together in that bed doing—whatever…It never crossed her mind that they might make a baby together.

A sick feeling rolled around in her stomach. She flung the plastic stick at the trash bag and slumped against the wall, holding a hand over
her mouth. Dad and Miss Valdez had only been married a few days, and she was already going to have a baby? Could it happen that fast?

Her stomach flip-flopped again as a terrible thought settled in her brain. What if that was why they got married? What if Dad and Miss Valdez—sick!

She wondered if Dad even knew. Maybe Miss Valdez was keeping it a secret from him. Maybe she tricked him into marrying her, and that was why she’d hidden that thing clear back in the corner of the cupboard.

She stared at the purple stick half-hidden in the folds of the trash bag. Maybe she would leave it lying on the counter. If Dad didn’t know, he should. And if he did know, then leaving it out in the open would let them both know that she knew their terrible secret.

Still feeling queasy, she grabbed the side of the bathtub and pulled herself up. She stood perfectly still, listening for the hum of Dad’s jigsaw. From the garage the muted, high-pitched buzz droned, then stopped abruptly.

A minute later the kitchen door opened and Dad’s voice boomed, “Kayeleigh! Come here.”

Blood racing, she grabbed the plastic stick and stuffed it in the front pocket of her jeans with Mom’s lipstick tissue. Tugging at her T-shirt, she tried to hide the telltale outline in her pocket. She gathered the rest of the trash off the floor, replaced the wicker basket under Mom’s sink, and hurried out to the hallway.

Dad was standing in the kitchen at the end of the hall, a pair of pliers in hand. “Oh, there you are. Good. How’s it going in the bathroom?”

She held up the bag in reply, acutely aware of the bulge in her pocket, hoping her face didn’t give away her discovery.

Dad seemed not to notice. She swept past him and carried the trash bag out to the garage, where she tossed it in the bin.

He followed her. “Where’s Landon? Did he finish dusting the living room?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

He took a step toward her, his jaw set. “Kayeleigh. Do not use that tone with me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know where he is. Probably sitting on his butt watching TV.” She muttered that last part under her breath, but just loud enough that Dad would hear.

The muscles in his cheek stretched over his jaw and he leaned forward.

For a minute she thought he was going to let her have it, but he just gave her the evil eye for a long minute.

“I’m finishing up the garage”—his voice softened a little—“and then I’ll be back to help you in here.”

She followed him out to the kitchen and filled a scrub bucket with warm, soapy water. When she heard the whine of the jigsaw from the garage again, she carried the bucket back to finish cleaning the bathroom.

Running her fingers over the outline in her pocket, she tried to think what it meant, and who she should tell about what she’d found.

This couldn’t be good—to have your wife mad at you before you even got to celebrate your one-week anniversary.

N
ot even married a week and he was in the doghouse—because of a cat.

Doug rolled down the window of his pickup, propped his elbow on the frame, and watched in his rearview mirror as the dust from the county road roiled behind him. It had been two days, and Mickey’s cat still hadn’t come back. She was none too happy about it, either. Doug had gone out and walked the property with her again last night, calling for the dumb animal. They’d even checked in the dilapidated barn, but no luck. The cat had probably tried to make its way back to Mickey’s house in town. Thank goodness the weather was decent. The cat would hightail it back out here when it discovered there was nobody waiting in town with a bag of Meow Mix.

But would anybody be waiting at the farmhouse tonight with
his
supper?
Mickey hadn’t dared blame him for the cat’s disappearance—and if she had, he would have been quick to remind her that he hadn’t wanted her to bring the stupid thing out to the farm in the first place. But she’d been cool toward him ever since—

Well, to be honest, ever since they’d returned from Salina as husband and wife.

He shook his head slowly and blew out a stream of air. This couldn’t be good—to have your wife mad at you before you even got to celebrate your one-week anniversary. He made a mental note to call Maizie at the flower shop and have some flowers delivered to Mickey at the daycare tomorrow. It had taken him almost ten years to learn that a simple vase of flowers was worth its weight in gold, and guaranteed to knock three days off an argument. That had always done the trick with Kaye.

He had a sudden image of her meeting him at the back door one day last fall, holding the vase of pink carnations he’d sent, and wearing a smile that told him not only was he forgiven, but he just might get lucky tonight.

He shook his head, trying to shake the image loose. A month ago he’d worried that he was forgetting her—her face, her voice, her touch…Now it seemed she visited his memories at the most inopportune times. He was beginning to feel like he was cheating on both his wives.

He slowed the pickup and turned down a rutted lane that went past his South 80—the one parcel of land he owned that wasn’t adjacent to the farmstead. He’d had several chances to lease it when money was tight, but he wouldn’t let it go. Kaye might have been able to stay home if he’d have taken a risk. If he hadn’t been so stubborn. Until Landon started school, Kaye had been able to stay home full-time with the kids. It was a point of pride for Doug. No wife of his was going to take a job outside their home if he could help it.

But in the end he couldn’t help it. Kaye took a job as a secretary at
the high school, and they’d squeaked by. She always said she didn’t mind working, but he knew she’d only said it for his sake.
No wife of his…No wife…

His thoughts brought him up short. What about Mickey?

He scrubbed his face with one hand and forced his thoughts to practical things. There was rain in the forecast, and if he didn’t get into the field with the disk tonight, he might miss his only chance for a while.

The clock on the dashboard radio turned to 7:52. He punched the accelerator. If he was late for work again, he’d have all the time in the world to work his ground because he’d leave Trevor no choice but to let him go.

M
ickey was in the middle of reading
Jesse Bear, What Will You Wear?
to the three- and four-year-olds at the daycare when Brenda came to stand behind the reading corner, waving to catch her attention. She hurried through the rest of the book and turned the kids over to Holly Miller, the high school girl who’d been helping out after school.

“Is everything okay?”

Worry etched Brenda’s face. “The middle-school kids just got here, and Kayeleigh’s not with them. Landon said he saw her walking with Seth Berger.”

“Oh, brother…” Mickey rubbed her temples, then glanced up at Brenda. “I’m going to give her five or ten minutes. If she doesn’t show up, I’ll give Doug a call.”

“Are she and Seth an item?”

Mickey shook her head. “Not that I know of. But then, Kayeleigh doesn’t exactly pour her heart out to me.”

“She’s not taking it so well, huh? You and Doug getting married?”

“No. And this is probably a test…a bucking-my-authority sort of thing.”

“No doubt.” Brenda patted her shoulder. “Welcome to life with a teenager.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“How’s it going with the rest of the kids?”

She forced a smile and blinked back unexpected tears. How could she tell Brenda that married life was nothing like she’d imagined? She loved them to pieces, but the kids took up every spare minute—and she had the twins and Harley at daycare all day, too.

Tomorrow was the one-week anniversary of her so-called wedding, and so far she and Doug had made love exactly twice since they’d gotten home. Oh, but they’d managed to find time for three arguments. The ratio did not bode well for the future.

Doug had come home from work every night this week to hop on the tractor and go straight to the field, leaving her to feed the kids and help with homework. Since Tuesday there hadn’t been a spare minute to go by and check on her house and garden. And on top of everything Sasha was still missing, and Doug didn’t seem to give a hoot.

She cleared her throat and twisted the thin silver band on her left hand, avoiding Brenda’s eyes. “It’s been a little hectic, but we’re working things out.” She checked her watch. The middle school let out at 3:30. Kayeleigh usually made it to the daycare by 3:45, and it was already a little after four.

She slid her chair back and grabbed her jacket off the hook behind her desk. “Listen, I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to go look for Kayeleigh. I have a feeling they’re just taking their sweet time.”

“You go on,” Brenda said. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

It felt good to get outside. The temperature on the bank marquee said 62, but the sun made it feel even warmer. Mickey headed north, then west on Maple, following the route she knew the middle-school kids usually took.

About two blocks from the school, she saw Kayeleigh’s friend Rudi
walking with another girl she didn’t know. She quickened her pace and called the girl’s name.

A cautious smile grew on Rudi’s round face.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Mickey Valdez—DeVore,” she corrected herself. “I’m Kayeleigh’s…I married her dad.”

“Yeah, I know. Plus I remember from when I used to come to daycare when I was little.”

She’d forgotten. “Have you seen Kayeleigh? She hasn’t shown up at daycare.”

“She was walking…to daycare,” Rudi added quickly, shifting from one foot to another. “But I think she was with Seth.”

“Were they going anywhere else?”

“Oh. I’m not sure, but…they might have stopped by Latte-dah first…for a smoothie or something.”

It was obvious Rudi knew more than she was letting on.

“Thanks, Rudi. And I won’t mention that I talked to you.”

The girl looked relieved.

Mickey turned and headed back toward Main Street. When she got within view of the coffee shop, Kayeleigh and Seth Berger were coming out of Latte-dah, drinks in hand. He had his arm around her, and they were head to head. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Kayeleigh’s flirty laughter floated across the street.

Mickey cut through the alley to avoid being seen. She’d see what Kayeleigh had to say for herself when she got to the daycare.

Back at work she shrugged out of her jacket and hurriedly hung it up, explaining the situation to Brenda, who promptly disappeared into the playroom.

Two minutes later the door opened and Kayeleigh walked in, backpack slung over one arm, Latte-dah cup nowhere in sight.

“Kayeleigh, where were you? We were worried.”

“I was just walking home from school.”

Mickey looked pointedly at the clock on the wall near the door. “School got out almost forty minutes ago. We’ve been worried about you,” she said again.

“Sorry. I guess…I guess I walked slow today. I’m fine.”

Mickey took a deep breath. Did she dare confront Kayeleigh? Or should she wait and let Doug handle it? She didn’t feel she’d earned the right to play Mother yet. But she had a responsibility to deal with this as Kayeleigh’s daycare provider regardless. She asked herself how she would have dealt with this if it had happened six months ago, and had her answer.

“Come here, please.”

Kayeleigh took a half-step toward Mickey’s desk.

“I’d like you to come and sit down for a minute.” Mickey pointed to the chair in front of her desk. “We need to talk.”

Kayeleigh slumped into the chair, hugging her backpack and fiddling with the zipper pull.

“You walked straight home after school?” Mickey felt a little guilty baiting her, but she wanted to see how she’d respond.

Kayeleigh mumbled something that sounded like “yes.”

“Kayeleigh, look at me. You didn’t stop anywhere between here and school?”

“Why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m not interrogating you. I’m just making sure you’re following the rules—”

“My dad makes the rules, and if he—”

“I’m not talking about the rules at home. I’m talking about the daycare rules. I’m the director here, and the rule is that if you come from school, you come directly here, the shortest route possible, no stopping along the way. I think you know that.”

“Well, I did.”

“Did what? Kayeleigh. I’m going to ask you again. Did you come straight here from school?”

“Yes!”

“Then why did I see you coming out of the coffee shop?”

The blood drained from Kayeleigh’s face. She’d been caught red-handed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Would you rather talk to your dad about it?”

“Fine. Anything so I don’t have to talk to you.” She hoisted her backpack and stormed out the front door.

By the time Mickey collected herself and went after her, Kayeleigh was half a block down the street, running back in the direction of Latte-dah.