“And you’ve been keeping this miracle to yourself until you thought I was really desperate? I’m beginning to smell a rat, here, Bill.”
“I’ll tell you what it is if you’ll promise to hear me out.”
“Okay, I promise.” He put Betsy on his shoulder and gently patted her back. Almost immediately, Betsy let out an unladylike burp.
“Good girl,” John said with a smile at his nine-month-old daughter.
As if he’d been waiting for that sign, Bill said, “Remember, you promised to hear me out.”
“I remember,” John said, but his stomach was beginning to churn. Something was bad about Bill’s idea.
“You get married again.”
John turned to stare at him. “You’re crazy, old man! That’s not going to happen!”
He stood, with Betsy in his arms, ready to leave the room, but Bill reminded him, “You promised.”
“What kind of job is it, Uncle Bill?” Debra Williams asked hesitantly after finally settling herself in his old truck. The day so far had been hectic, what with taking Andy on his first plane ride—hers, too, for that matter. Even now that they were on terra firma, the trip was still bumpy as the truck bounced along the rutted road to Westlake, Wyoming.
But a rough patch was the least of her worries. Her life had been difficult, but she was a survivor. Always had been. But she wanted more than survival; she wanted to start the life she’d put on hold.
Her dream of being a teacher had been delayed when she’d found herself pregnant in her senior year of high school. Then, when the baby’s father died before their son was born, she’d had to face the hard fact that she was the sole support for herself and Andy until he was grown.
For years she’d been doing the best she could, but life hadn’t been wonderful.
So when Uncle Bill had called and told her he had a great job for her where she could keep her little boy with her, she accepted his word impulsively.
After she’d picked up the plane tickets and got aboard the flight to Casper, she’d had time to think about what she’d done. She hadn’t seen her uncle Bill since she was about six. How much did he know about her life? She knew her mother got letters from him fairly regularly, but that was it, as far as she knew.
Her mother had pleaded for Debra not to take Andy and go. Debra had been surprised and gratified to know that her mother wanted her to stay but she didn’t allow such uncharacteristic behavior to influence her decision. Now, though, she needed reassurance that she’d made the right decision, that what she’d done would help her little boy.
She’d asked a couple of questions earlier, but Uncle Bill had refused to answer her while Andy was awake. Now the three-year-old had finally fallen asleep in his car seat, and she could no longer wait for information. “You know I’m not trained for too many jobs. I was going to go to night school this fall, but you said this was a great job.”
“It is, honey, and it will let you stay home with Andy. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know it is, Uncle Bill, but there aren’t many jobs that will allow that. What do I have to do?”
“Things you already know how to do. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of kids.”
“So it’s a housekeeping job?”
“Yeah, that’s what it is. The thing is, Deb, I can’t keep sending you money and—”
“Sending me money? What are you talking about?”
He turned to stare at her until she warned him about an oncoming car. Then he said, “I’ve been sending your mother money every month to help out. She promised me she was passing it on to you.”
Debra looked out the window, unable to face her uncle, knowing that her mother had betrayed her again. They had never had a good relationship. After her father’s death, when Debra was nine, her mother had become so self-centered, Debra had practically raised herself. But she hated to think that her mother had intentionally kept money intended to help her own daughter.
She scrambled for a response to her uncle. “I guess she forgot.”
Bill slammed the steering wheel. “Damn! I should’ve known. Eileen was always— Never mind. Things will be better now.”
“I hope so,” Debra said softly. “I’ll certainly work hard. And it will be so wonderful to have Andy with me all day.”
Her uncle’s revelation explained why her mother had suddenly pleaded with her not to go. Greed had motivated her sudden maternal concern.
As usual, nothing had changed. But knowing the truth destroyed any light of hope that she’d misjudged her mother.
She shook off any sadness, focusing instead on her new life.
“So I’m going to be a housekeeper. How many people are in the family? Are there children Andy can play with?”
“Um, it’s a widower and his little girl,” Bill mumbled.
“Is there something weird about the job, Uncle Bill?” Something in her uncle’s voice didn’t seem quite right. She should’ve known better. There were no fairy-tale happy endings in the world today. She looked back at her sleeping son. She would protect Andy—whatever it took.
“Now, Debbie, honey, I want you to remember I have your best interest at heart.”
Debra got a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d pinned her hopes on her uncle’s promises. Surely Uncle Bill wouldn’t let her down…Would he? She couldn’t go back to Kansas City, to living with her mother, to being the cook in a diner, getting up at four-thirty every morning, no matter how she felt. Then she would come home at two, clean house while Andy finished his nap, play with him, fix dinner and go to bed to get up and do it all over again. She was growing old at twenty-two.
What was her uncle’s problem? “I don’t mind working hard, Uncle Bill.”
“Good. ’Cause you’ll be working hard.” He smiled at her, and she relaxed a little. In his fifties now, her uncle was still a handsome man, tall and muscular, with not a strand of gray in his full head of brown hair. He looked exactly as she remembered him.
They had been passing through mile after mile of ranch land and now she saw a town up ahead. A few shops, a café, a small bank. “Is this Westlake, Uncle Bill?”
Without answering, her uncle pulled to a stop in front of the only other building easily identifiable—a church.
“Uh, Debbie, there’s something I haven’t told you about the job.”
John heard the rear door of the church opening. He glanced over his shoulder from the front pew where he sat holding Betsy and waiting. This was a day he’d remember forever. March second. His second wedding. Guaranteed to be a disaster.
He turned back when he realized Bill was arguing with his niece. Was she hoping for a better deal?
