firmly believe it’s in the boys’ best interests.”
Marie took a deep breath in a vain attempt to settle her nerves. The man was as calming as a stick of lit dynamite.
“If your concern is for Sandy, let me assure you, she’d be welcome. My home is big enough, and since it’s a single story, she’d have full access to the whole place. Think of it. You could stop working and spend all day with the boys. You’d have more time to work with Sandy, too.”
Marie twisted sideways. She concentrated on rubbing her feet dry and tried to block out the temptation of his offer. She shook her head and whispered, “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t we come up with another option? Maybe have a weekend together, then swap kids for the next weekend or something?”
“That’s too disruptive and awkward.” Several glass shards clinked as he dropped them into the trash. He turned and gave her a level gaze. “You’re the one who just pointed out how important stability is.”
“It’s morally wrong, Peter.”
“Your sister will be there! Isn’t that enough?”
“We’re total strangers!”
“It wouldn’t take long for that problem to be resolved.”
“Stop it. Just stop!” She wanted to turn back the hands of time and make it so she’d have never discovered the baby swap. But then I’d never have seen Luke….
“We can’t just sit around and do nothing, Marie.”
“There isn’t any big hurry,” she countered.
“If you really like working outside the house, Anne can handle the boys. All of my sisters work, Marie. If you enjoy having a job, we’ll find something up there that you like.”
“You’re trying to tempt me, and you’ve tossed in everything a woman might hope for, but, Peter, it’s still wrong. I can’t go against my moral code. It’s a terrible message for the boys, and we still don’t know how well they—or we—will get along. I’d be a fool to accept this cockamamie plan.”
Peter had finished up cleaning the floor. He planted his hands on the counter on either side of her. His eyes searched hers for a long count. “You’re going to have to work with me. What is it you want, Marie?”
Nervously crushing the dishcloth into a ball, she blurted out, “I want the nightmares to stop!”
Peter took the dishcloth from her and set it off to the side. He slid his hand over hers. “Tired of it all?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Blinking madly, she pleaded, “Don’t get me started crying. I can’t do that.”
“But, Marie, in less than two years you’ve suffered not one, but three staggering blows. Think about it. You’ve lost your husband, your sister got injured and became totally dependent on you and you’ve discovered your son isn’t yours. How are you supposed to cope? I think you’re more than entitled to sob your guts out.”
She averted her face. “It upsets Ricky and Sandy too much,” she whispered thickly. “I need to be strong for them.”
Peter gently tilted her face and forced her to look back at him. In a low, insistent tone, he asked, “But, Marie, who’s strong for you?”
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