Yesterday's Embers Page 20

  Picking it up with two fingers, she inspected the odd object. It looked like a thermometer. But they didn’t have a thermometer like this. At least Kayeleigh had never seen one. Mom always used one of those strips you put on your forehead.

  Besides, if this was a thermometer, why would Mom have thrown it away? She looked closer and her stomach knotted. It wasn’t a thermometer. It was—She turned the thing over. The initials e.p.t. were printed in blue on the plastic case.

  Wait a minute…She’d seen TV commercials for this thing. Mom hardly ever let them watch TV, but they watched it all the time now. Usually Dad made them change the channel when commercials for “lady stuff,” as he called it, came on. But she’d seen enough of them to know some stuff.

  She turned the plastic thing over again and studied it. There was a little window on one end with a blue plus sign showing in the opening. She knew what that meant. It meant positive. It meant a woman was pregnant. The couple on TV always kissed and smiled, all happylike, when they saw that plus sign.

  But why was there one of these pregnancy test things in the trash can? Her breath caught. Miss Valdez. She’d used this bathroom last night, taken a shower and dressed in here this morning. Kayeleigh looked at the blue plus sign again and caught her breath. Was Miss Valdez pregnant? That’s what a plus sign meant. At least that’s what the commercials said.

  She glanced back toward the bedroom. Dad had packed up the crib and moved Harley into Kayeleigh’s bedroom the first night Miss Valdez had moved in. Kayeleigh liked having Harley in her room, but tried hard not to think about why they’d wanted the crib out of their room. About Dad and Miss Valdez together in that bed doing—whatever…It never crossed her mind that they might make a baby together.

  A sick feeling rolled around in her stomach. She flung the plastic stick at the trash bag and slumped against the wall, holding a hand over her mouth. Dad and Miss Valdez had only been married a few days, and she was already going to have a baby? Could it happen that fast?

  Her stomach flip-flopped again as a terrible thought settled in her brain. What if that was why they got married? What if Dad and Miss Valdez—sick!

  She wondered if Dad even knew. Maybe Miss Valdez was keeping it a secret from him. Maybe she tricked him into marrying her, and that was why she’d hidden that thing clear back in the corner of the cupboard.

  She stared at the purple stick half-hidden in the folds of the trash bag. Maybe she would leave it lying on the counter. If Dad didn’t know, he should. And if he did know, then leaving it out in the open would let them both know that she knew their terrible secret.

  Still feeling queasy, she grabbed the side of the bathtub and pulled herself up. She stood perfectly still, listening for the hum of Dad’s jigsaw. From the garage the muted, high-pitched buzz droned, then stopped abruptly.

  A minute later the kitchen door opened and Dad’s voice boomed, “Kayeleigh! Come here.”

  Blood racing, she grabbed the plastic stick and stuffed it in the front pocket of her jeans with Mom’s lipstick tissue. Tugging at her T-shirt, she tried to hide the telltale outline in her pocket. She gathered the rest of the trash off the floor, replaced the wicker basket under Mom’s sink, and hurried out to the hallway.

  Dad was standing in the kitchen at the end of the hall, a pair of pliers in hand. “Oh, there you are. Good. How’s it going in the bathroom?”

  She held up the bag in reply, acutely aware of the bulge in her pocket, hoping her face didn’t give away her discovery.

  Dad seemed not to notice. She swept past him and carried the trash bag out to the garage, where she tossed it in the bin.

  He followed her. “Where’s Landon? Did he finish dusting the living room?”

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  He took a step toward her, his jaw set. “Kayeleigh. Do not use that tone with me.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know where he is. Probably sitting on his butt watching TV.” She muttered that last part under her breath, but just loud enough that Dad would hear.

  The muscles in his cheek stretched over his jaw and he leaned forward.

  For a minute she thought he was going to let her have it, but he just gave her the evil eye for a long minute.

  “I’m finishing up the garage”—his voice softened a little—“and then I’ll be back to help you in here.”

  She followed him out to the kitchen and filled a scrub bucket with warm, soapy water. When she heard the whine of the jigsaw from the garage again, she carried the bucket back to finish cleaning the bathroom.

  Running her fingers over the outline in her pocket, she tried to think what it meant, and who she should tell about what she’d found.

  This couldn’t be good—to have your wife mad at you before you even got to celebrate your one-week anniversary.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Not even married a week and he was in the doghouse—because of a cat.

  Doug rolled down the window of his pickup, propped his elbow on the frame, and watched in his rearview mirror as the dust from the county road roiled behind him. It had been two days, and Mickey’s cat still hadn’t come back. She was none too happy about it, either. Doug had gone out and walked the property with her again last night, calling for the dumb animal. They’d even checked in the dilapidated barn, but no luck. The cat had probably tried to make its way back to Mickey’s house in town. Thank goodness the weather was decent. The cat would hightail it back out here when it discovered there was nobody waiting in town with a bag of Meow Mix.

  But would anybody be waiting at the farmhouse tonight with his supper? Mickey hadn’t dared blame him for the cat’s disappearance—and if she had, he would have been quick to remind her that he hadn’t wanted her to bring the stupid thing out to the farm in the first place. But she’d been cool toward him ever since—

  Well, to be honest, ever since they’d returned from Salina as husband and wife.

  He shook his head slowly and blew out a stream of air. This couldn’t be good—to have your wife mad at you before you even got to celebrate your one-week anniversary. He made a mental note to call Maizie at the flower shop and have some flowers delivered to Mickey at the daycare tomorrow. It had taken him almost ten years to learn that a simple vase of flowers was worth its weight in gold, and guaranteed to knock three days off an argument. That had always done the trick with Kaye.

  He had a sudden image of her meeting him at the back door one day last fall, holding the vase of pink carnations he’d sent, and wearing a smile that told him not only was he forgiven, but he just might get lucky tonight.

  He shook his head, trying to shake the image loose. A month ago he’d worried that he was forgetting her—her face, her voice, her touch…Now it seemed she visited his memories at the most inopportune times. He was beginning to feel like he was cheating on both his wives.

  He slowed the pickup and turned down a rutted lane that went past his South 80—the one parcel of land he owned that wasn’t adjacent to the farmstead. He’d had several chances to lease it when money was tight, but he wouldn’t let it go. Kaye might have been able to stay home if he’d have taken a risk. If he hadn’t been so stubborn. Until Landon started school, Kaye had been able to stay home full-time with the kids. It was a point of pride for Doug. No wife of his was going to take a job outside their home if he could help it.

  But in the end he couldn’t help it. Kaye took a job as a secretary at the high school, and they’d squeaked by. She always said she didn’t mind working, but he knew she’d only said it for his sake. No wife of his…No wife…

  His thoughts brought him up short. What about Mickey?

  He scrubbed his face with one hand and forced his thoughts to practical things. There was rain in the forecast, and if he didn’t get into the field with the disk tonight, he might miss his only chance for a while.

  The clock on the dashboard radio turned to 7:52. He punched the accelerator. If he was late for work again, he’d have all the
time in the world to work his ground because he’d leave Trevor no choice but to let him go.

  Mickey was in the middle of reading Jesse Bear, What Will You Wear? to the three- and four-year-olds at the daycare when Brenda came to stand behind the reading corner, waving to catch her attention. She hurried through the rest of the book and turned the kids over to Holly Miller, the high school girl who’d been helping out after school.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Worry etched Brenda’s face. “The middle-school kids just got here, and Kayeleigh’s not with them. Landon said he saw her walking with Seth Berger.”

  “Oh, brother…” Mickey rubbed her temples, then glanced up at Brenda. “I’m going to give her five or ten minutes. If she doesn’t show up, I’ll give Doug a call.”

  “Are she and Seth an item?”

  Mickey shook her head. “Not that I know of. But then, Kayeleigh doesn’t exactly pour her heart out to me.”

  “She’s not taking it so well, huh? You and Doug getting married?”

  “No. And this is probably a test…a bucking-my-authority sort of thing.”

  “No doubt.” Brenda patted her shoulder. “Welcome to life with a teenager.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “How’s it going with the rest of the kids?”

  She forced a smile and blinked back unexpected tears. How could she tell Brenda that married life was nothing like she’d imagined? She loved them to pieces, but the kids took up every spare minute—and she had the twins and Harley at daycare all day, too.

  Tomorrow was the one-week anniversary of her so-called wedding, and so far she and Doug had made love exactly twice since they’d gotten home. Oh, but they’d managed to find time for three arguments. The ratio did not bode well for the future.

  Doug had come home from work every night this week to hop on the tractor and go straight to the field, leaving her to feed the kids and help with homework. Since Tuesday there hadn’t been a spare minute to go by and check on her house and garden. And on top of everything Sasha was still missing, and Doug didn’t seem to give a hoot.

  She cleared her throat and twisted the thin silver band on her left hand, avoiding Brenda’s eyes. “It’s been a little hectic, but we’re working things out.” She checked her watch. The middle school let out at 3:30. Kayeleigh usually made it to the daycare by 3:45, and it was already a little after four.

  She slid her chair back and grabbed her jacket off the hook behind her desk. “Listen, I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to go look for Kayeleigh. I have a feeling they’re just taking their sweet time.”

  “You go on,” Brenda said. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

  It felt good to get outside. The temperature on the bank marquee said 62, but the sun made it feel even warmer. Mickey headed north, then west on Maple, following the route she knew the middle-school kids usually took.

  About two blocks from the school, she saw Kayeleigh’s friend Rudi walking with another girl she didn’t know. She quickened her pace and called the girl’s name.

  A cautious smile grew on Rudi’s round face.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Mickey Valdez—DeVore,” she corrected herself. “I’m Kayeleigh’s…I married her dad.”

  “Yeah, I know. Plus I remember from when I used to come to daycare when I was little.”

  She’d forgotten. “Have you seen Kayeleigh? She hasn’t shown up at daycare.”

  “She was walking…to daycare,” Rudi added quickly, shifting from one foot to another. “But I think she was with Seth.”

  “Were they going anywhere else?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure, but…they might have stopped by Latte-dah first…for a smoothie or something.”

  It was obvious Rudi knew more than she was letting on.

  “Thanks, Rudi. And I won’t mention that I talked to you.”

  The girl looked relieved.

  Mickey turned and headed back toward Main Street. When she got within view of the coffee shop, Kayeleigh and Seth Berger were coming out of Latte-dah, drinks in hand. He had his arm around her, and they were head to head. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Kayeleigh’s flirty laughter floated across the street.

  Mickey cut through the alley to avoid being seen. She’d see what Kayeleigh had to say for herself when she got to the daycare.

  Back at work she shrugged out of her jacket and hurriedly hung it up, explaining the situation to Brenda, who promptly disappeared into the playroom.

  Two minutes later the door opened and Kayeleigh walked in, backpack slung over one arm, Latte-dah cup nowhere in sight.

  “Kayeleigh, where were you? We were worried.”

  “I was just walking home from school.”

  Mickey looked pointedly at the clock on the wall near the door. “School got out almost forty minutes ago. We’ve been worried about you,” she said again.

  “Sorry. I guess…I guess I walked slow today. I’m fine.”

  Mickey took a deep breath. Did she dare confront Kayeleigh? Or should she wait and let Doug handle it? She didn’t feel she’d earned the right to play Mother yet. But she had a responsibility to deal with this as Kayeleigh’s daycare provider regardless. She asked herself how she would have dealt with this if it had happened six months ago, and had her answer.

  “Come here, please.”

  Kayeleigh took a half-step toward Mickey’s desk.

  “I’d like you to come and sit down for a minute.” Mickey pointed to the chair in front of her desk. “We need to talk.”

  Kayeleigh slumped into the chair, hugging her backpack and fiddling with the zipper pull.

  “You walked straight home after school?” Mickey felt a little guilty baiting her, but she wanted to see how she’d respond.

  Kayeleigh mumbled something that sounded like “yes.”

  “Kayeleigh, look at me. You didn’t stop anywhere between here and school?”

  “Why are you interrogating me?”

  “I’m not interrogating you. I’m just making sure you’re following the rules—”

  “My dad makes the rules, and if he—”

  “I’m not talking about the rules at home. I’m talking about the daycare rules. I’m the director here, and the rule is that if you come from school, you come directly here, the shortest route possible, no stopping along the way. I think you know that.”

  “Well, I did.”

  “Did what? Kayeleigh. I’m going to ask you again. Did you come straight here from school?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then why did I see you coming out of the coffee shop?”

  The blood drained from Kayeleigh’s face. She’d been caught red-handed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Would you rather talk to your dad about it?”

  “Fine. Anything so I don’t have to talk to you.” She hoisted her backpack and stormed out the front door.

  By the time Mickey collected herself and went after her, Kayeleigh was half a block down the street, running back in the direction of Latte-dah.

  He composed his words carefully before he spit them at her.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  What was I supposed to do, Doug?”

  Doug had never seen Mickey so worked up.

  She threw a dish towel onto the counter. “I treated her like I would have any other child who behaved the way she did while in my care.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” He felt like he was playing mediator for a couple of six-year-olds. He’d sent Kayeleigh to her room and was trying to get to the bottom of what had happened between her and Mickey. All he knew was that when he got home from work tonight, happy because he’d finished the farmwork early and could actually spend an evening at home, he’d been met by this firestorm—Kayeleigh in tears because Mickey had grounded her, and Mickey up in arms because he questioned her actions and didn’t immediately back her up.

  Hands on hips, she stood in the middle of the kitchen and spat the words. “I
didn’t call you because I know how busy you are at work. I didn’t want to bother you with something I thought I could handle myself.”

  “Well, it goes without saying: you apparently couldn’t handle it yourself.”

  Her eyes narrowed and the tendons in her jaw pulled into a taut line. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He composed his words carefully before he spit them at her. “I don’t think it was your place to ground Kayeleigh.”

  “What did you expect me to do? Just let it go?”

  “No, but you could have waited until I got home, so we could talk about it. Decide together.”

  “We should talk about it, Doug. I’m not saying ‘subject closed.’ But it’s not like there was any question whether she’d lied to me or not. I couldn’t let that go.”

  “So you saw her with Seth?”

  “Yes, I did. They were coming out of the coffee shop with smoothies, and she—”

  “You know it was smoothies they were drinking? What are you, a detective?”

  She gave a frustrated growl. “That’s not the point.”

  He held up a hand and forced his voice down. “I’m sorry.” How did every conversation manage to turn into an argument?

  Mickey took his cue and softened her voice. “The point is, when she got back to the daycare—almost half an hour late, by the way—I asked her specifically if she came straight there. She looked me in the eye and told me she did.”

  Doug nodded. “Okay. I just wish you would’ve let me handle it.”

  “Well, believe me, next time I will. I should have called you out of work to come and get her.”

  “What would that have accomplished?”

  “Doug—” Mickey looked toward the stairway, as if she were afraid the kids might be listening. But they’d been in bed for an hour—after a dinner eaten in silence. “If I’m going to be in charge of Kayeleigh, I’ve got to have some clout. When you defended her in front of me like that, you stripped me of any authority over her—over all the kids.”