Adventures In Parenthood

The girls reached in from opposite sides of the sack, orange hair against wheat, then lifted out the boxes, looking through the clear plastic at the contents.

“Rollerblades,” Aubrey said. “What do you think?”

“Cool,” Sienna said.

“It’s too hard for us,” Ginger said, scrunching her nose. “Remember that big kid in the park with blood all down his arms?”

“We’ll get pads for your elbows and knees,” Aubrey said. “You’ll wear your bike helmets, too. You’ll be safe.”

“Daddy took the helmets back. He didn’t know what you were thinking,” Sienna said. “The bikes are put away for when we’re bigger.”

“You’re big enough,” she said, irritated by Howard’s attitude. “You girls are gymnasts. You have crazy balance. People on my blog told me a cool way to learn. Easy-breezy.”

“Easy-breezy?” Ginger repeated eagerly.

“Easy-breezy. I brought my bike, so once you learn, we can ride together in the park. Won’t that be fun?” Her voice cracked, but she had to give them something to look forward to, something to soften the coming blow.

She glanced at Dixon, who looked totally bereft. They had to get this over with. Her mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she could get out the words. “Listen, girls, we need to talk to you about—”

“First, ice cream,” Dixon blurted, cutting her off. “Your aunt came early, so we should celebrate. Help me scoop, Aubrey.” He grabbed Aubrey’s arm and stood, pulling her up with him.

“Ice cream?” Sienna stopped tearing into the box and stared at Dixon. “But we already had milkshakes. Ginger will upchuck.”

“We’ll make it small, just a taste. Because your aunt surprised us.” He headed for the kitchen, pulling Aubrey by the arm, Sienna’s suspicious eyes burning holes in their backs.

“Ice cream? Really?” Aubrey whispered, once they reached the kitchen. “You want them to link ice cream with their parents’ death?”

“I need to try Constance again. She’ll know the best approach.” He pushed buttons on his phone.

“We don’t need an approach, Dixon. We should tell them flat out. Use simple words. They’ll react, and we’ll try to give them comfort.” Dixon wanted magic words, but there were none. She’d learned that when her mother died.

At least you were eighteen. They’re only four.

She clenched her fists, dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying.

“Bowls are to the left of the sink,” Dixon said, the phone to his ear. “Chocolate chip for Ginger. Strawberry for Sienna.”

She opened the freezer, the blast of cold air pleasant against her face, where nervous sweat had trickled down her temples. The freezer was jammed with plastic containers and big Baggies, each labeled with a dish—lasagna, chicken cacciatore, Chinese noodle casserole.... It looked like Jessica’s mother had been helping out the bachelor babysitter.

Rummaging around, she found the ice cream and scooped out servings for the girls, sheepishly aware that he had known their favorite flavors, while she had no clue. Aubrey wasn’t part of the girls’ daily lives the way he was, and it was her own fault.

In the background, she heard the girls putting on their rollerblades. When she’d finished scooping, she stared at the family photos on the fridge—the girls with Mickey Mouse at Disneyland, the family playing miniature golf, the twins in leotards on the balance beam, doing a kata in martial arts gi.

She should have been here more, been part of all this. Don’t wallow. You’ll spend more time. You’ll pay more attention. You’ll—

She felt an icicle stab to the heart. Who will raise the girls?

Aubrey or Dixon. They were the only choices. Dixon’s mother, Lorraine, was older and traveled a lot, according to Brianna. Just like you, Aubrey thought queasily.

How could Aubrey manage it? She couldn’t move the girls to L.A. where she shared a tiny apartment with an actress-slash-cocktail waitress. She would have to move to Phoenix. And what about her travel, all the promotion she’d have to do if she got the sponsorship?

Anxiety sent an acid wash down her throat like a gulped shot of tequila, no lime or salt to ease the way.

“Voice mail,” Dixon said with irritation. “I’ll try again later.” He slipped the phone into his pocket. Dixon lived here. He worked at Bootstrap, where the girls went for day care. He knew their ice cream preferences and a whole lot more about their lives.

Dixon would be the choice. No question.

What would Brianna want? Wait. Was there a will? Didn’t people list guardians in wills? Aubrey sure hadn’t seen a will. Had Dixon?

“All set?” Dixon picked up the bowls.

Aubrey felt woozy, like the stormy drift dive in the Bahamas before they’d sunk below the waves. Dixon looked just as green, as if he stood on the same rolling deck.

“Hang on.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We need something more.” She ducked into the refrigerator for a can of whipped cream and a jar of maraschino cherries. As she squirted the cream and dropped the cherries, her hands shook. So did Dixon’s holding the bowls. The resulting mounds were lopsided, the cherries sadly off center. “Good enough.”

In the family room, the girls were holding on to each other trying to balance on their skates, sliding forward and back, waving their free arms wildly.

“Ta-da!” Aubrey said. “Ice cream sundaes!”

Dixon set them on the table. “Have at it, girls.”

“But we’re not allowed to eat in here,” Sienna declared, staring at the heaping, messy bowls. “And you said just a taste.” She paused. “Where are Mommy and Daddy? They promised they’d be here by supper.” Her voice was sharply alert.

Aubrey looked at Dixon, who closed his eyes briefly, then gave her a slow, resigned nod. It was time to tell them. “Sit down, girls,” he said dully.

Still holding each other up, the girls clumped to the sofa, and sat, skates dangling from their skinny legs like moon boots. Already scared, they stared at Dixon and Aubrey with wide eyes. Dixon pushed the table to the side, making room for him and Aubrey to kneel in front of the girls.

“You asked about your parents...” Dixon started. “We...your aunt and I...need to talk to you about...them.”

Looking into their still, wan faces, so vulnerable, so terrified, Aubrey couldn’t stand it another second. “They were in a car accident.”

Both girls gasped.

“They didn’t make it,” Dixon added quickly.

“What didn’t they make?” Sienna asked in a tremulous voice.

“He means they died. The accident killed them.”

“But it didn’t hurt,” Dixon said. “They didn’t have any pain.”

“What? No! You’re lying!” Sienna’s shrill cry, echoing Aubrey’s first reaction, pierced like a hot spike to her heart.

“It’s true,” Aubrey said. “I wish it weren’t, but it is.”

“They’re in a hospital in Nevada,” Dixon said, “but they’ll be flown down to Phoenix for the funeral.” He paused. “That’s a church service where people get together and talk about the dead person and—”

“Everybody knows what a fun’ral is,” Sienna said. “We had one for our gecko that died.”

“Are they getting fixed up at the hospital?” Ginger asked, clearly not grasping what Dixon meant. This was so hard. Aubrey wanted to pull the girl into her arms and erase her pain, but there were no magic hugs any more than there were magic words.

“No. It’s just their bodies,” Dixon said. He had to clear his throat to continue.

Aubrey put a hand on his arm to support him. “Their spirits are gone. In Heaven.”

“With Grandma Hanson and Grandpa Carter?” Ginger asked tremulously.

“And Grandpa Metzger,” Aubrey threw in, though she had no idea how Heaven worked or if her father would be there to greet the daughter he never knew he’d had.

“I don’t believe you!” Sienna’s voice broke, her anguish ringing in Aubrey’s ears.

Oh, sweetie, I know, I know. It hurts so much, so very much. She was too young for so much suffering.

“I’m calling Mommy.” She lunged off the couch and tromped, headlong in her skates, to the kitchen, where she grabbed the phone.

“I want my mommy and daddy,” Ginger said, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I know you do.” Aubrey held out her arms, but Ginger pushed off the couch onto Dixon’s lap, her knees bent, skates behind, and sobbed into his shoulder with all her might. Dixon was more familiar to her, so it made sense she’d go to him over Aubrey.

It’s done. They know. The worst’s over.

But that wasn’t true. Aubrey’s mother’s death had been a boulder dropped in a pond, but grief had rippled outward for months and months, each wave a fresh blow. She’d feared it would kill her, then wished it would. Instead, she had had to endure the pain, day and night, on and on, as had Brianna. Would it be easier because the girls were so young, or harder? She had no idea.

Sienna stood by the phone, wobbling in her skates, so Aubrey went to help, steeling herself the way she did when she faced an impossible-looking rock climb.

“Mommy, call me back...please,” Sierra said into the handset, her voice frantic, her eyes jumping here and there, like a trapped bird desperate to escape a cage. “It’s an emergency.” She put the handset in its dock, then stared at it, willing it to ring.

“I know it’s hard to accept, Sienna.” Aubrey racked her brain for soothing words. “I can hardly believe it and I’m way older than you. It’s a terrible shock. It takes time to get used to, but we’ll do it.”

Sienna’s lip trembled, her face slowly crumpled.

“We’ll help each other.” Aubrey held out her arms.

“Leave me alone!” Sienna turned and hop-tromped down the hall, slamming the bedroom door so loudly the living room windows rattled.

Now what? Go to her or leave her be?

In a flash, she remembered holding Sienna the day she was born. Brianna had thrust the tiny bundle of a baby at her. Aubrey had cupped her hand around Sienna’s delicate skull, examined her tiny fingers, fragile as twigs, looked into those clear trusting eyes and panicked. Here. She’d tried to hand the baby back to Brianna. I’m scared I’ll break her.

But Brianna refused to take the bundle. She looked at Aubrey, her eyes glowing with a new fire. Everyone feels like that. You learn together.

That flash of memory, hearing Brianna’s voice again, felt like a gift to Aubrey and calmness washed through her. Go to her. Shared pain is less pain. Brianna and Aubrey had gotten each other through the terrible times, after all.

At first, Aubrey hadn’t understood that. When the minister’s wife had said, You’re so lucky. You have each other, it had been all Aubrey could do not to smack her. They’d lost their mother, their only parent. Lucky was the last thing they were.

Soon enough, she saw the truth in those words. They’d comforted each other like no one else could have. She would do her best to comfort Sienna. You’ll learn together.

CHAPTER THREE

GINGER’S LITTLE BODY trembled in Dixon’s arms, and he had to tighten every muscle to keep from breaking down. He was no good with feelings in general, and his niece’s heartbreak was more than he could grasp, let alone figure out how to fix. Aubrey had gone after Sienna. He hoped she knew what to say.

Ginger raised her tear-drenched face and looked at him. “Will you take care of us, Uncle Dixon?”

“Of course I will,” he said, fighting the urge to squeeze her tight—too tight—as if that would somehow help. His insides seemed to be churning and melting at once.

“Forever?” she added.

“Forever.” I will watch over you and protect you from all harm, no matter what, or die trying. The experts would probably frown on such a grandiose promise. Right now he didn’t give a damn. To help Ginger feel better, he would say anything. He would move in with them—at least at first—so as not to disrupt the girls any more than necessary.

They knew him and loved him. As ill-equipped as he felt, he was the best they had. He wanted to make this right, but how did you make something right that is more wrong than anything that could happen to a child? The girls needed each other most of all, he assumed. Aubrey would know about that, since she and her sister had lost their mother, too. Not this young.

“Shall we go talk to Sienna?” he asked.

Ginger nodded against his shoulder.

He stood, still holding her. As he walked, the skates bumped his legs. What the hell had possessed Aubrey to buy rollerblades? For their third birthday, she’d given them an indoor trapeze and tightrope set. One of the few quarrels Dixon had ever heard between Howard and Brianna had started when Howard bitched that Aubrey was clueless about the girls—buying them classes and toys they were too young for. Brianna had defended her sister with a surprising ferocity.

Aubrey meant well. He knew that. She clearly adored the girls. He felt kind of sorry for her. She seemed to think she had to prove her love with gifts and activities, as if she thought the girls wouldn’t remember her or, hell, love her back.

In the bedroom, Sienna lay facedown on the bottom bunk and Aubrey was pulling the skates from her dangling legs.

“That’s my bed!” Ginger shrieked. “Get off my bed!” The girls were up in each other’s grills about private areas—beds being a flash point. “Daddy said you can’t be on my bed without my permission.”

Sienna raised her face, her cheeks wet with tears, her nose running. “Who cares what Daddy says? Daddy’s dead. So is Mommy. They’re never coming home. They left us all alone.”

Her raw pain hit like a punch in Dixon’s chest. Aubrey dropped a skate with a clunk and hunched over, as if she’d been hit by the same cruel fist. Her eyes met his, their usual crystal-blue gone cloudy.

“We’re not alone,” Ginger said. “Uncle Dixon promised to take care of us forever.”

Aubrey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wished they’d had a chance to discuss him being the girls’ guardian first, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, she would likely be relieved to know he was willing to take over.

The leopard-spotted cat appeared out of nowhere and leaped onto the bed to lick Sienna’s cheek, purring wildly. “Her tongue’s rough,” Sienna said.

“She wants you to feel better,” Aubrey said.

“She just likes the salt,” Sienna said, but a smile flickered on-off.

“I’m sad, too, Scout,” Ginger said, holding out a cheek. “I’ve got tears. See?”

“She wants to be with me,” Sienna said.

“You have to share,” Ginger whined. “It’s not fair.”

“She’ll be with you, too, Ginger,” Aubrey said. “We have plenty of time for Scout to make you both feel better.”

“Will you stay forever, too?” Ginger asked, swiping at her nose.

Aubrey blinked, opened and closed her mouth, clearly not knowing what to say.

“Your aunt lives in L.A., so she can’t,” Dixon said to help her out.

“I’ll stay as long as I can.” She shot him a look, but he could tell she’d been caught off guard.

Ginger sighed sadly.

“How about that ice cream?” he said. “It’s out there melting.” Like that will help, you idiot.

“My stomach hurts too much,” Ginger said.

“It’s gross when it melts,” Sienna said.

“Then let’s run your baths, huh?” He figured keeping to the routine was the smartest way to go.

“I don’t want a bath,” Sienna said, her arms buried in Scout’s fur, her cheek resting on the cat’s back.

“You had gymnastics. Your mom’s rule is baths before bed after activities.”

“Maybe tonight we can skip baths,” Aubrey said brightly. “Rules are made to be broken. Right, girls?” She winked at Sienna, who managed a crooked smile.

“A bath will relax them, and they’ll sleep better,” he said, trying to catch her eye, get her to present a united front.

“Auntie Aubba said we can skip,” Ginger said.

“Your parents put me in charge and I say you’re taking baths.”

“You can’t make us. You’re not our dad. Our dad is gone. This is our house. We own it. Now we make the rules.” Sienna was getting wound up, scaring herself, testing the limits.

He opened his mouth to say something firm, but Aubrey spoke up. “Have you girls ever seen a cat dive?”

The twins’ eyes zipped to Aubrey.

“If you take your baths, I bet I can get her to dive for you.”

“Really?” Sienna asked.

“Really. Scout loves water. We have lots of adventures in lakes and rivers.”

“You’re kidding,” Dixon said.

“I never kid about Scout the Adventure Cat, do I, girls?”

“Never,” Sienna chimed in. He noticed the little girl’s eyes were the same shade of blue as her aunt’s. They had the same noses and straight, red-blond hair, shiny as spun bronze. “Come on, Ginger.” Sienna bounded off the bed and headed out the door.

“Great diversion,” Dixon said to Aubrey. She’d shifted the girls’ attention away from the impasse. “Would you mind managing the bath? I should check messages. I turned off the sound so the girls wouldn’t hear anything upsetting before they knew. I likely got a call from the funeral director.”

“No problem.”

Aubrey headed after the girls, and Dixon tackled the machine, which had a message from the mortician, as well as tons from friends offering condolences, food and help, their voices full of shock. Rachel had done her job.

He’d torn off the note with the appointment time at the mortuary, when shrieks drew him down the hall to the bathroom. Were the girls fighting?

As soon as he walked in the door, he got hit in the crotch with a cup of warm water.

“Whoops, accident,” Aubrey said, but she’d clearly done it on purpose. The girls burst out laughing, which, no doubt, had been the point.

“It’s a water fight, Uncle Dixon,” Sienna explained.

“I can see that,” he said. There was an inch of water on the floor and the bath mat was soaked.

“Get her back,” Ginger said, holding out a plastic measuring cup brimming with soapy water.

“Hit me with your best shot,” Aubrey said, giving him the same grin she’d delivered on the cliff in Mexico when she’d dared him to jump.

“You look pretty wet already.” Her hair dripped appealingly, her shirt clung to her breasts.

Don’t stare. There are children here. Despite himself, he flashed on a memory of that night, carrying her back to her room, dripping wet, her silk dress all but transparent.

Forget that. Don’t think about that.

“You look like you peed your pants, Uncle Dixon.” Sienna pointed gleefully.

“Splash his legs so it looks like he was wading,” Aubrey said, clearly working to stay cheerful for the girls’ sake.

Sienna tossed a bowl of water at his slacks. Both girls squealed with delight at the results.

The bath was supposed to relax the girls, not hype them up, but he was glad to see smiles and hear laughter, even if it had a hysterical edge.

Giving in, Dixon sat on the wet floor, drenching his backside, too. The steamy air smelled like the cherry of the girls’ soap mixed with the spice of Aubrey’s perfume.

He found himself studying Aubrey. She was as strikingly pretty as when he’d met her at the wedding, with an expressive face, full mouth and remarkable eyes. Arresting. That was the old-fashioned word for her brilliant blue gaze, which stopped you in your tracks, made you want to raise your hands in surrender.

Arresting? Jesus.

His gaze shifted to her body, shapely and athletic. Her deep tan and sun-streaked hair were evidence of hours spent outdoors. Damn. A sigh escaped his lips.

The sound made Aubrey look his way, catching him still staring.

Luckily, Ginger broke the spell. “Scout picked up a block from the bottom of the tub, Uncle Dixon. Can we show him?” The question was for Aubrey.

“I think Scout’s done for the night,” Aubrey said. The cat sat on the padded toilet seat wrapped in a towel, fur fluffy, eyes closed in an expression of serenity. “So are we, right?”

Dixon held out a towel for each girl, then took two more from the shelf, handing one to Aubrey before he kneeled to sop up water from the floor. She did the same and their hands met in the middle of the room.

Dixon met her gaze, and received a sexual jolt.

Aubrey’s eyes lit up, as if she’d gotten the same charge. “We crashed, girls,” she said, clearly covering for the high-voltage moment.

He remembered her as a very physical person. She touched you when she talked, as if to ground herself, fingers brushing your hand, squeezing your upper arm, patting your back. That was how they’d ended up dancing at the wedding. She’d kept touching him, coaxing him, until the next thing he knew he was on the dance floor. And he hated dancing.

Earlier tonight, when she’d stopped him with a hand so she could glop goo on the girls’ ice cream, her touch had somehow steadied him for the task of telling the girls the terrible news. At least that was non-sexual. There was no place for sex here. Not in their situation, and certainly not around the girls.

Now Aubrey launched into a camp song about a frog that required her to bug out her eyes, stick out her tongue and make a gulping gargling sound during the chorus.

The girls were transfixed. The woman knew how to have fun, for sure. He’d seen that in Mexico.

Eventually, they herded the girls to their room, and Aubrey challenged them to see who could get into their pajamas first.

Afterward, tops mis-buttoned, bottoms inside out, the girls argued about who’d won.

“I’d say it was a tie, wouldn’t you, Dixon?” Aubrey said.

“I won,” Sienna insisted. “You just don’t want Ginger to cry.”

“It was a tie,” Ginger said, tears the size of jelly beans shivering in her brown eyes.

“You’re such a baby,” Sienna said.

“No, I’m not. Daddy says you can’t be mean to me.”

“Daddy’s gone.”

“Stop saying that!” Ginger burst into serious tears this time and Dixon felt his own eyes burn.

“Please don’t cry,” Aubrey said. “We were having fun and laughing, remember?” She shot Dixon a look. What do we do now?

He had no idea.

“I can’t help it,” Ginger sobbed. “I forgot what happened. I think they’ll be here soon to kiss us good-night.”

“But they won’t be,” Sienna said angrily. “Stop thinking that.” She climbed up the ladder, got under the covers and turned her face to the wall.

Ginger cried quietly.

Dixon racked his brain for something to talk about.

“Is this your bedtime book?” Aubrey picked up Ramona the Pest from the nightstand.

How had he forgotten? “Yeah,” he said, taking the book. “Time to read.”

“Can Auntie Aubba do it?” Ginger asked.

“If she wants to.” He looked at her.

“I’d love to.” She smiled hesitantly.

“That’s the reading chair right there.” Dixon motioned at the tiny chair a foot from the bunk beds.

“You’re kidding.”

“Trust me. It’s the rule.”

She sat in the low chair, set the book on her knees, which jutted up to her chin, and opened it to the marked page.

She’d barely finished a paragraph before Sienna gave a strangled cry. “You have to stop. Make her stop, Uncle Dixon.”

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey closed the book on her thumb, bright red blotches on her cheeks.

“That’s not nice, Sienna,” Dixon said. She was upset, but that was no excuse to be mean.

“She’s trying to sound like our mommy,” Sienna said. “You’re not her,” she said to Aubrey. “Don’t pretend you are.”

“Your mom’s my sister. We sound alike, I guess.”

“Now my stomach feels sicker,” Ginger said.

“That’s probably all the junk food I let you eat,” Dixon said to ease the moment.

“I’ll let you finish.” Aubrey handed him the book, ducking his gaze, clearly mortified. “Night, girls,” she muttered, almost running out the door. She pulled it shut.

“No! Leave it open!” Ginger called. “We need the line of light!”

The door cracked. “Sorry,” Aubrey called from the hallway.

“You girls need to be kinder to your aunt,” Dixon said. “She lost her sister, and she’s sad, too. In the morning, I want you to say you’re sorry.”