“You won’t be spending your time traveling or studying, though, will you?”
“No, but I’ll gain more from the experience than you think. I love the children. I really want to do this.”
“What about money?”
It went without saying that finances were currently tight for Paul. He couldn’t pay Leah, nor could he offer to reimburse her for lost wages, but she’d taken all of that into account.
“I’ll be giving up my apartment, so I’ll be saving on rent. Plus, I have a small trust fund from my mother and grandmother. It isn’t a lot, but it’s enough for the next couple of years.”
Paul hesitated, his jaw tensing before he slowly shook his head. “Your offer touches me deeply, but I just can’t let you do it.”
Leah knew it would eventually come down to this. She knew she’d have to bring up the subject of Eric and Elizabeth Manning.
“What about your parents?” Although Leah preferred not to drag them into the discussion, she had no choice. Paul’s parents had retired several years before and enjoyed traveling in their motor home. But since Diane’s death they’d stayed in Seattle to help Paul with the children. She’d been unable to visit Taylor, her oldest daughter, when little Eric was born. Now Christy was pregnant and it looked as if, once again, Elizabeth wouldn’t be there for the birth of a grandchild.
“I’ve been checking into having someone from church watch the kids while Mom and Dad are away,” Paul informed her stiffly.
“Strangers?” Leah raised her eyebrows.
“What else can I do?” he flared.
“Let me move in with you. It’s the obvious answer. The kids love me and I love them. They’ll be in their own home, with their own toys. They’ve had enough disruption in their lives already. I know how hard this is for you, Paul, but you can’t let your pride stand in the way of what’s best for your children.”
He stood abruptly and walked to the far side of the kitchen. “It seems so unfair to you.”
“But I’d consider it a privilege. I don’t expect there’ll be many other opportunities in my life to do something like this for those I love. My being here with the kids can make a difference. It can help them adjust to the loss of their mother. Please believe me, it isn’t a sacrifice, it’s an honor. Years from now I’ll be able to look back and feel good about the contribution I made to shaping my sister’s children, to helping them through this difficult time.”
Paul rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know.”
He was weakening—Leah could see it, although he was still struggling with his pride, his natural inclination to carry everything on his own shoulders.
“It won’t be for more than a few years,” she reiterated.
“What about you and Rob?”
Leah smiled to herself. She’d been dating Rob Mullins for three years. They were both members of the math department at Highline Community College and shared a number of interests. Above all, they were friends. If they were going to marry, they would have done so long before now. “What about him?” she asked.
“What does he think of this?”
“I didn’t ask him.”
Paul’s eyes widened.
“Rob’ll understand,” she assured him. Leah didn’t feel it was necessary to go into the intricacies of their relationship. They dated more for the sake of companionship and convenience than romance. Rob was divorced and had been for fifteen years. If he wanted to remarry, he would’ve brought up the subject long ago.
“How can you be so sure he won’t mind? If I was dating Diane right now, I can tell you I wouldn’t take kindly to her moving in with her brother-in-law—no matter what the circumstances.”
“You’re not Rob. And I’m not Diane….”
“He’ll care.”
Leah ignored his concern. “There’s only a couple of weeks left in the term, and I’ve already talked this over with Dean MacKenzie. I told him there’s a strong possibility I wouldn’t be returning for at least a year. But he needs to know for certain.”
Paul didn’t say anything for several minutes. He walked over to the teapot, carried it back to the table and refilled their cups. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“But you’ll agree to let me move in with you?”
He nodded slowly. “And I’ll thank God every day for a sister-in-law as unselfish as you.”
* * *
“What’s this?” Ryan asked, lifting a textbook from one of the boxes neatly stacked in the corner of Leah’s closet.
Each of the four bedrooms was now in use. Leah took the one across from the nursery and next to the twins’ room. The master bedroom, where Paul slept, was at the far end of the long hallway.
“A book,” she said as she unpacked her suitcase. She hung up one item at a time as the boys investigated several of the heavy cartons she’d brought with her. Most of her furniture had gone into storage, but she hadn’t been able to part with some of her precious books. She probably wouldn’t have the time or the energy to explore propositional calculus in the next couple of years; nevertheless, she’d hauled several boxes of books from her office.
“I like books,” Ronnie said, taking his thumb out of his mouth long enough to tell her. He sat on the carpet next to his brother, tucking his legs beneath him. Ryan held his tattered yellow blanket under his arm as he leafed through the text, carefully examining each page as though he understood the concepts. Leah didn’t have the heart to tell him he was holding it upside down.
“After dinner I’ll read you a story,” she promised them.
“Mommy used to read to us.”
The memory of Diane sitting with her sons flashed into Leah’s mind. She remembered her sister sitting on the living-room couch with the twins on either side. A large book of nursery rhymes was spread open across her lap as she read aloud. The boys nestled against her, half-asleep.
The injustice of her sister’s death, the heartlessness of it, struck an unexpected blow. Leah paused in her task, holding a silk blouse to her stomach until the disturbing image passed.
“Are you going to be our mommy now?” Ryan asked, looking up at her with wide blue eyes. Paul’s eyes. Both boys had been blessed with the same incredibly blue eyes as their father. Leah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen eyes that precise color. It was the first thing she noticed whenever she met any of the Manning family.
“Mommy’s in heaven,” Ronnie said, poking his brother with his elbow.
Ryan went still for a moment and shut his eyes tightly. “Sometimes I forget what she looks like. I have to try real hard to remember.”
“Here,” Leah said, sitting on the end of the bed, eager to prompt the boys’ memory. She reached for her purse and withdrew her wallet. Inside were several pictures of Diane, Paul and the twins. She took them out of the plastic case and handed them to the boys, who’d gathered beside her.
“How come she’s so fat?” Ryan asked, pointing to the first picture.
Leah smiled. “That’s because you and your brother were growing inside her tummy,” she explained, ruffling Ryan’s blond hair.
“I don’t ’member that.”
“I don’t suppose you do.”
“Kelsey was inside her tummy, too.”
“Yes, she was,” Leah said, picking up Ronnie and settling him on her lap. “Here’s a picture of the two of you when you were born.” They were dressed in white T-shirts with protective cuffs over their tiny hands. A small blue ribbon was taped in each baby’s fuzzy blond hair.
“Which one’s me?” Ryan asked.
“That one.” Leah pointed to the infant on the left, although she didn’t actually know.
“What’s this picture?” Ronnie asked, pulling the bottom one free from Leah’s hand. She had to look herself before she could say.
“That, my young man, was taken at Easter a few years ago.” She grinned, remembering how the candy-filled baskets she’d brought the boys had been bigger than they were. Ryan and Ronnie were
toddling toward her when she’d snapped the picture. It was one of Leah’s favorites.
She shuffled through the other photographs, and paused as she came upon one of Paul and Diane together. Paul’s eyes held Diane’s, and it was clear how much in love they were. Leah’s heart constricted. It seemed so unfair that Paul should lose Diane. Six months after her death he was still grieving as though it had happened only yesterday. But then, so was she.
Leah often had questions about Diane’s death. Not medical questions, but…spiritual ones. She didn’t know what other word to use. She’d never told Paul, never told anyone, about the dream.
In some ways it was what prompted her to suggest she move in with Paul and the children. It was during the dream that Diane had asked Leah to take her place.
In retrospect Leah wished she’d questioned Diane, argued with her, convinced her to stay. Even after all these months, that vision of Diane haunted Leah. Sometimes she believed it was a product of her own imagination. Other times, she was sure it was real.
At any rate, Leah had kept her word. She’d moved in with Diane’s family and was taking her sister’s place—as a mother, but certainly not as a wife. Even with the kids, she felt woefully inadequate.
Leah didn’t know how she, a single woman, a college-level math professor, was supposed to deal with three small children on a daily basis. She didn’t have all the answers, only the determination to keep her promise to Diane.
There was bound to be a period of adjustment for them all, Leah realized. Paul was grateful for her help, but at the same time resentful that he needed her. And he did need her, no question there. Still, it would take a while for him to get over that.
Leah respected Paul. He’d loved her sister, still loved her, and was a good father. Although she didn’t have much in common with him, other than their love for the children, for now that was enough.
“Tell you what we’ll do,” Leah said, tucking her arms around the children and bringing them close to her side. “We’ll find some pictures of your mommy and put them up in your room, so you won’t forget what she looks like. How does that sound?”
“Can we put up a picture of me, too?” Ryan asked. “So Mommy won’t forget what we look like?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we can,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head.
“Where is everyone?” Paul’s voice came from the kitchen.
Leah glanced at her watch. She’d been so busy unpacking, the time had slipped away from her. Before she could get off the bed, Paul was standing in the bedroom doorway.
He wore his trench coat, a gift from Diane when he’d been hired by the Seattle daily paper. What decent journalist didn’t own a trench coat, she’d teased.
“Ah-ha, here you are,” Paul said, crouching down and holding out his arms to his sons. Ryan and Ronnie ran across the room to hurl themselves into their father’s embrace.
With a growl Paul stood, lifting both boys off the floor and hugging them close.
“Where’s Kelsey?” he asked, lowering the boys.
“Napping.” Although now that Leah noted the time, she realized Kelsey was probably awake. She moved into the nursery, and sure enough, the little girl was lying on her back, her hands fluttering gaily. Leah picked her up.
“I see you got everything moved in all right,” Paul said, following her into the nursery.
“Almost everything. I’ll need to make one last trip in the morning, but that should do it.”
“You’ve got enough room for everything?”
“Plenty,” she assured him. Enough room in her heart to nurture these precious children. And what else really mattered?
“Dinner’s just about ready,” Leah said as she set Kelsey on the changing table and began to remove her soggy diaper.
“I can do it,” Paul said, taking over. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’m fine, really.” But she didn’t protest. Giving him some time alone with his daughter, Leah walked into the kitchen.
It was even more difficult for Paul to accept her help now that she was living in his home. She hoped he’d grow accustomed to her being there and wouldn’t feel the need to repay her for the “sacrifice” she’d made. Although she’d tried repeatedly, she couldn’t make him understand that she didn’t consider this an imposition. It was her idea, after all, as she’d reminded him more than once.
Dinner was on the table a few minutes later. Leah had never been much of a cook. There’d been no reason to develop that skill when the only one she was feeding was herself. Until recently, she’d survived on frozen entrées and fast-food dinners. Diane used to claim her unhealthy eating habits would be the end of her. But it wasn’t Leah who’d left behind an anguished family.
When they were finished with dinner—a basic chili and an uninspired salad—Paul cleared the table while Leah stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. Wordlessly they worked together while Ryan and Ronnie entertained their sister.
“I wish you’d let me do that,” he said as she scrubbed a pot.
“I don’t mind.” There were only a handful of dishes that needed to be washed by hand, and she’d be done in a few minutes.
“Perhaps you don’t mind, but I do,” Paul said, his words taut.
The stark tone of his voice surprised Leah. It wasn’t going to be easy, the two of them adjusting to each other’s presence.
“All right,” she agreed amicably enough. She didn’t know what Paul thought of her. She wondered if he had any feelings toward her, one way or the other.
They’d worked together, talked occasionally, grieved together, wept in each other’s arms—but when it came to defining their relationship, Leah was at a loss.
She turned off the water and dried her hands. Replacing the dish towel on the wire rack, she glanced over at Paul, her eyes skimming his. In that one brief glance, she saw so much. His fatigue. His pain. His regret.
She was about to leave the room when Paul caught her by the arm. He dropped his hand almost immediately, and for a moment he said nothing. But his meaning was clear.
He was sorry for speaking harshly to her. Leah knew that as surely as she’d ever known anything. Something deep inside her longed to comfort him, assure him that she understood.
The days might pass. But the pain didn’t.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said.
“I know.”
“It’s just that…”
“I know, Paul. You don’t have to explain. You’re grateful I’m here and at the same time you wish I wasn’t. You aren’t going to hurt my feelings. I understand.”
Leah did understand; nevertheless his words a few minutes ago had hurt. She knew Paul hadn’t meant to be insensitive, and he wasn’t unfeeling. But his response to her being there, performing the tasks that had once been his wife’s, left her feeling unwanted. Diane was the one he wanted, not Leah.
His reaction stirred once-forgotten inadequacies and brought to life deeply buried resentments, not toward Diane, but toward their mother. Diane had been the beautiful child; Leah was plain, inept. While Diane had been a high school cheerleader, Leah had been shy, studious, a plain Jane. Leah knew she’d embarrassed her mother. Diane was her golden girl, Leah ordinary and unattractive.
The way their mother had favored one sister over the other had hurt Diane more than it had Leah. Leah had worked hard at her studies, received a full scholarship to the University of Washington and graduated with honors. By then their mother was gone, but Diane had been there to cheer her success. She’d always been there to boost Leah’s self-confidence.
But she wasn’t there anymore.
* * *
Later that night, after the boys and Kelsey were asleep, Paul brought Leah a cup of coffee. She was sitting in front of the television mindlessly watching some sitcom, too tired to move. She was physically and mentally exhausted.
For months Paul had carried all responsibility for these children. Leah didn’t know how he’d managed for so long.
r /> “Thanks,” she said, accepting the steaming mug.
“You look beat.”
“I was just wondering where the boys get their energy.”
“They’re a handful, aren’t they?” His smile was filled with fatherly pride, and Leah found herself responding with a smile of her own.
Paul settled on the recliner across from her. He was a good-looking man. His features were imperfect, rugged, but nevertheless appealing. Or maybe appealing because of that. It was easy to understand why Diane had fallen in love with him.
Leah would never forget the day Diane had called her from Alaska nearly seven years ago. She’d phoned to tell her she’d married Paul Manning. Leah had been aghast. She’d never met Paul, and her sister, after an all-too-brief courtship, had decided to marry him. Leah was, to say the least, shaken.
They’d always been close. It had hurt that her sister would marry this man without even talking it over. For a time Leah had been furious. Meeting Paul had only partially appeased her. Eventually, though, she’d seen that despite Diane’s age, it was a solid marriage. The fact that Paul so obviously loved her had gone a long way toward reassuring Leah.
“You’ll get used to the boys’ antics,” Paul said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Does Ryan usually take his stuffed animals in the bathtub with him?”
Paul grinned. “Not usually.”
“I see. So what happened tonight was in my honor?”
“Don’t worry, they’ll dry. A little the worse for wear, but they will dry.”
“What about his blankie? We can’t wash it?” Leah hadn’t been able to persuade Ryan to let go of it for even an hour to run it through the washing machine. Whenever she suggested it, the four-year-old clung to his stained, torn blanket as if she’d proposed burning the thing—which might not be such a bad idea.
Paul rolled his eyes. “At least Ronnie’s thumbs are clean.”
Leah chuckled, but she worried about the boys and their unabated need for reassurance.