Authors: Loree Lough
She aimed her steely-eyed gaze at Dara. “I have two things to say to
you.
First of all, I don’t recall giving you permission to address me by my first name. And second, I’ll thank you not to question my authority in front of the children. They’re not blood kin to you, after all.” That said, she marched up the stairs, nose in the air, and slammed the guest room door.
Stunned into silence by the stinging tirade, Dara stood, blinking and biting her lips to keep the tears at
bay. The woman seems determined to embarrass and humiliate you, she thought, and Noah seems intent to let her. More proof, in her mind, that his strongest loyalties were with Francine and her family.
Joseph, red faced and stuttering, stared after his wife. “They say those midlife mood swings are supposed to diminish once a gal turns sixty or so.” He shrugged. “Guess there’s an exception to every rule,” he said, forcing a grin, “’cause it seems my Emmaline has been goin’ through the change for just about as long as I’ve known her!”
He started for the stairs but laid a hand upon Dara’s forearm, instead. “Don’t let her get to you,” he whispered. “Her bark is worse than her bite.” Punctuating his comment with a merry wink, he left her alone with Noah in the foyer.
“We’d better get ready, too,” he said, extending his hand. And when Dara put hers into it, he led her up the steps. “When did you have time to make all these outfits?” he asked as they walked.
“I’ve been getting up…after you fall asleep.”
“You
what?
How long have you been doing
that?
”
“Oh, about a week.”
He opened their bedroom door. “Seven days, give or take, working in the middle of the night,” he said as she entered the room. “Joseph was right,” he added, shaking his head. “You’re a wonder.”
The wonder, she thought as he closed the door, is why I talked you out of sending them packing!
Well, you’ve made it this far. One more week, and you’ll be out of the woods.
Grinning, she thought of all the Christmas trees Emmaline had decorated in the various rooms of the
house, because for the first time in her life, she empathized with Little Red Riding Hood.…
He’d been thinking about it for nearly two weeks now—how to call Emmaline on the carpet without hurting her too badly, though he didn’t for the life of him know why sparing her feelings was so important to him; she hadn’t given a thought to what her prickly comments were doing to Dara.
Because, he thought, you may have been brought up in an orphanage, but you were raised better than that
He recalled the numerous “treat your elders with respect” lectures he’d received from Brother Constantine, one for every time he’d stepped out of line as a boy. “‘Rebuke not an elder, but treat him as a father,’” the Brother would recite from First Timothy, “‘and the younger men as brethren.…’”
The good Brother thought the words had fallen on deaf ears back then, and Noah was inclined to agree. But now the words echoed with the full meaning of the man’s intent.
As the kids of the parish filed onstage and took their places in the stereotypical Nativity scene, the idea began to formulate in Noah’s brain. While Pete Lang’s black lab—outfitted to look like a donkey—was tugging on one of the wise men’s robes, Noah knew what to do.
The moment the family returned home from the service, Dara followed the kids upstairs. “I’ll just tuck them in,” she said, “before I take my bath.”
“Sounds good,” he told her. To Angie and Bobby, he said, “I’ll be up in a bit to hear your prayers.”
He waited until Dara was out of earshot to ask Emmaline, “Will you take a walk with me?”
Laughing, Francine’s mother waved a hand at Noah. “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. It’s barely thirty degrees outside!”
“So we’ll bundle up good and warm.” He held out the full-length mink coat she’d worn to the Christmas Eve service and, like a bullfighter, shook it at the stubborn woman. “Just a short walk,” he said, smiling. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chance to talk…alone.”
“Well, all right,” she agreed reluctantly, shrugged into the fur. She wrapped a knitted silk scarf around her neck, pulled fur-lined leather gloves over her hands. “You’re just lucky I haven’t taken off my boots yet—that’s all I can say!”
He pulled open the door, held it as she stepped onto the front porch. It dawned on him as she crossed the doorsill that he hadn’t done any of the customary bridegroom things for Dara, like getting down on one knee to ask her to marry him and slipping an engagement ring onto her finger, or carrying her over the threshold. You’re going to have to remedy that, soon as possible, he told himself, shutting the door behind them. But first things first.
“Angela and Robert were so excited. Do you think they’ll get any sleep tonight at all?” she asked softly, linking her arm with his.
“Eventually. I tell them the same thing every Christmas Eve—the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner it’ll be Christmas morning.”
Emmaline’s laugh vaporized, floated from them on a cloud of cold air. Then, in a more serious tone, she said, “You’re a good father, Noah. I know I don’t tell you that nearly often enough. Joseph and I think you’ve
been doing a splendid job, raising those youngsters all by yourself.”
“I’m not all by myself anymore.”
She sighed. “Please. Don’t remind me.”
Noah stopped walking, put himself directly in his former mother-in-law’s path. “Emmaline, that’s precisely what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Dara is my wife.” He cocked his head, gave her an affectionate yet scolding stare. “I don’t like the way you’ve been treating her.”
She exhaled a sigh of vexation. “It’s just…We were doing fine without that…that…”
“That wonderful woman who’s my wife?” he finished for her.
But she seemed not to have heard him. “Why didn’t you call me before you let her steamroller you into a wedding you weren’t ready for, Noah. I mean, really…a six-week courtship? Honestly, what
were
you thinking!”
“Steamroller me?” He had to laugh. “Emmaline, if only you knew.”
“Why do I get the feeling,” she said starchily, “that you’re about to tell me.”
He smiled. “I never gave it a thought to call you, to tell the truth. I met her and I fell for her like a load of bricks. Besides,” he added for good measure, “I figured it was high time I did what Francine told me to do on the night she died.”
“Surely you don’t expect me to believe she
asked
you to replace her!”
“That’s exactly what she did. And frankly,” he said, smile still in-place, “I don’t give a hoot what you believe.”
He ignored her light gasp. “Your daughter realized the importance of a mother’s love in her children’s lives, and she made me swear to see that they got it.”
“There’s no need to take that tone with me, Noah,” she huffed. “I was only—”
There’s
every
reason to take this tone, he told her mentally.
“I know you were only trying to help,” he said, finishing her sentence. And nodding, he added, “And I appreciate your concern—really I do.”
“Then I don’t understand.” She thrust out her lower lip, tucked her chins into her coat collar. “Why are you scolding me?”
There were tears in her eyes, but Noah refused to react to them. He’d seen her pull this stunt many times, mostly with her husband and daughter; somewhere along the line, she’d figured out that if her temper didn’t get the result she wanted, a crying jag just might do the trick.
Unfortunately, it was a lesson Francine had learned at Emmaline’s knee. Well, Noah thought, it was dishonest and mean the way some women used their feminine wiles to get their way. If they wanted something, why not ask for it straight out?
“I’m not being
half
as hard on you as you’ve been on Dara since you got to town.”
She stopped blotting her eyes long enough to say, “Hard on her? Why, I’ve been nothing but pleasant and kind to that young woman. Which, if you ask me, is quite a feat, considering—”
“Considering
what?
Francine has been gone almost four years now. The kids need a mother. I need a wife. And Dara, believe it or not, needs
us.
”
She gave a disapproving snort. “She’s getting quite
a deal if you ask me…a highly respected husband with a successful business, a lovely home filled with beautiful furniture, two wonderful children.…”
“
We’re
the ones getting the ‘deal.’”
A moment of tense silence ticked by. “I think it’s important that the kids have as much contact with you and Joseph as possible. You’re the only grandparents they’ll ever have, after all, but we have to figure out how we’re going to get along around here. Otherwise, everyone is going to be miserable, and after a while, nobody is going to want to see anybody. And you know who’s gonna pay if that happens?”
She looked at the toes of her boots. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with anything.”
“The children will pay,” he finished.
“Did I hear you correctly? Dara’s mother and father are dead?”
“Yes. And if you ask me, I think she was hoping the two of you would hit it off so she could look to you and Joseph as substitute parents.”
Emmaline pursed her lips and gave that some serious consideration. “Well,” she began, “of course Dara could never replace Francine in my heart.”
“She isn’t trying to replace her, not in
your
heart, not in mine, not in Angie’s or Bobby’s.” He gave Emmaline an affectionate hug. “Won’t you at least try to see it from her point of view? She was a bride barely more than a day when you arrived. I mean, think about it—the parents of her new husband’s deceased wife? How would you feel in her place?”
“Scared out of my socks,” she admitted.
“And it only makes matters worse when you constantly hold Francine up as an example of the ‘Perfect Wife.’”
“I suppose you have a point. The poor girl can’t hold a candle to my daughter, but that isn’t her fault, now is it? She
is
trying.” She shook her head. “Can you believe those gifts!”
“She’s a treasure, all right.”
Emmaline said nothing.
“So you’ll help me?”
“Help you what?”
“Help me make Dara feel welcome. There won’t be any more complaining. No more snide remarks about her cooking and housekeeping. No more interfering with her disciplining of—”
“Discipline! You call what she’s doing
disciplining?
Noah, she’ll mollycoddle those youngsters if you don’t make her take a stronger stand. ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child,’ the Good Book says. You mark my words,” she said, shaking a finger at him, “Angela and Robert need a firm hand and guidance. And who does she think she is, anyway, marching in here like Queen of the May!”
“She’s my wife,” he began. Noah ran a hand through his hair and prayed for strength, for guidance of his own. “The kids need a mother’s love,” he said at last. “They need
Dara.
”
She stared stubbornly straight ahead.
“You know how much I love you, Emmaline, but—”
“And I couldn’t love you more if you were my own son.”
“But Dara is my
wife.
” He gave her hands another squeeze. “All I ask is that you treat her with respect.” He paused and, grinning, said, “She could learn a lot from you, if only you’d teach the lessons with a little tact.”
She looked up at him, blinking in honest surprise. “All right, darling. I’ll be nice to your little wife if it’ll make you happy.”
Noah hugged her. “It’ll make me happy. Very happy.”
“Now, let’s go inside,” she said, patting his cheek affectionately, “I’m freezing!”
Her condo had been on the market only one day when the first couple to do a walk-through bought it. Her parents’ house had been in the multiple list computer only eight days when it sold. Dara had never seen more money in one place at one time. Shaking her head, she stared at her bank statement. Between her savings and the proceeds from the houses, the total beside the colon on the “this is your balance” line read $315,655.72.
More than enough to pay back the money Dad took from the Pinnacle account…and the capital gains taxes to boot, she thought, smiling with relief. Grabbing her coat and car keys, she dashed into the kitchen, where Noah and his former in-laws and the children were having a midmorning Saturday snack. “Will you be around for a while?”
“Sure.” Noah gave her a puzzled look. “Why? Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I, ah, I have a few errands to run.” She smiled at the kids. “How about if I pick up a pizza on my way home?”
“Pepperoni and mushroom?” Angie asked.
“Tell ‘em extra sauce!” Bobby put in.
She pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads, then ran out the door, breathless and anxious and feeling better about what her father had done than she had
since Noah had dropped the bombshell on her all those weeks ago.
Halfway to the bank, as she sat at the red light at Route 40 and Centennial Lane, her spirited mood died a quick death. How are you going to put the money into the Pinnacle account, she asked herself, when you don’t even have a deposit slip?
When the light turned green, she eased away from the intersection, brow furrowed in thought. Maybe there’s something in Dad’s office…an old checkbook or a statement with the account number on it.
She nosed the car into a space in the Pinnacle lot and fished her key ring from her purse. Her father had given her the keys to the company years ago, when he’d been laid up with a broken leg and couldn’t get into the office. Pinnacle’s building was right on her way home from work and halfway between the school and her parents’ house. So she’d stopped in, going and coming, to deliver messages to and from her dad.
He had been a man who hated change, so she’d fully expected to find the checkbook still in the narrow center drawer of his desk. What she found, instead, staggered her.
The name engraved on the brass plate tacked to the door said William Prentice, CFO. Dara had never even
heard
of a William Prentice, so how could he have replaced her father?
She knocked on the door, shoved it open a crack when no one answered. Stepping inside, she tiptoed closer to the desk—her
father’s
desk—and breathed a sigh of relief. Everything looks just as it did the last time I was here, she thought, right down to the plaque on the wall.