Boone, page 5
“He missed last week’s den meeting,” said Boone. “There’s plenty of room in my car, so there’s no need for him to miss this week, too.”
Nixie pushed her hair behind her shoulders with a defiant flip of her wrist. “We’ve already talked about this.”
“We also talked about depriving children of opportunities to grow.” To Brad, he said, “What have you achieved in your spare time since I saw you at the play?”
The boy grinned proudly. “I taught Tarzan to bark at Bethany’s cat.”
Boone opened his hands in a resigned gesture. “I rest my case.”
Bethany obviously overheard and came in from another room. “Mom, you’ve got to do something about that kid.”
Nixie sighed. She supposed Boone had been telling the truth when he said the most strenuous den meeting activities would be memorizing pledges and making crafts. Maybe she could at least let Brad try it. “He hasn’t had supper.”
“I’ll buy him a burger.”
“Friends for life, man!” Brad and Boone exchanged high five. The boy dashed out to the car, then stopped to see what was holding up the den leader.
Boone had been a little slower to leave. Lingering on the porch, he acted as though he wanted to say something else to Nixie. When Brad called out to him, he winked at Nixie and said, “See you in a couple of hours.”
His words sounded more like a promise than an idle comment. With a peculiar sense of anticipation, Nixie found herself looking forward to seeing him later that evening.
She watched as Boone and Brad drove away. One large blond man and one small blond boy. To the uninformed, the two could easily pass for father and son.
Less than two hours had gone by when Nixie started worrying. She wasn’t used to Brad going away with anyone other than Jay or Lauren. They should have had time to eat a hamburger, attend the hour-long meeting, and return by now. She paced the living room again and pulled the curtain back to peek out. Maybe she shouldn’t have let him go after all.
“Chill out, Mom,” said Bethany. “He’ll be back soon. You ought to enjoy the peace and quiet while you can.”
A little more than two hours passed before she heard car doors slam, followed by excited male voices.
Brad entered, carrying a large department store bag. Boone smiled in a self-satisfied way. It was enough to make Nixie wonder what mischief they’d been up to.
Boone nudged the boy. “Show her what you got.”
That was all the prompting Brad needed. In seconds, the floor was scattered with official Cub Scout uniform parts, including cap, neckerchief, and patches.
“Where did you get all this?” Nixie asked, puzzled by the unexpected purchase.
Boone cleared his throat. “After the meeting, I figured we weren’t too far from the mall, so we saved you a trip.”
The mall was very much out of their way, but before Nixie could point this out, Brad declared, “I’m a real Scout now, Mom. Next time, I won’t be the only one wearing play clothes.”
“Who said anything about next time? I thought you were just going to try it out and see if you liked it.” Turning to Boone with one hand on her hip, she waited for an explanation.
“He did try it out, and he liked it. Since we got the uniform tonight, you’ll have time to sew the patches on before the next meeting.”
He seemed quite pleased with his forethought, but Nixie wished he hadn’t taken it upon himself to do this. She felt pushed into a corner.
“You really shouldn’t have done it,” she said, sweeping a hand to indicate the items Brad was admiring, piece by piece.
Boone sat on the couch. “It was the least I could do after what happened to your dress. I would have bought you a replacement, but I don’t know your size.”
“Don’t worry about it. In my job, I don’t wear anything fancier than jeans and T-shirts.”
Brad interrupted by jostling Boone’s knee. “Don’t forget to give this to Bethany.”
Boone took the small white box from the boy and handed it to Bethany. “We saw this in the store and thought of you.”
Nixie watched as her daughter tentatively opened the box and lifted out a pair of miniature satin ballet slippers on a pink velvet rope. “Thank you,” she whispered. Gingerly, she draped the necklace over her head. “This is beautiful. Whose idea was it?”
As one, Brad and Boone pointed at each other.
“I’m going to go look at it in the mirror,” she said and ran upstairs.
“I’m going to try on my new uniform.” Brad disappeared up the stairs behind his sister.
In those few seconds, the room fell silent. Even the parrot was quiet for a change.
Nixie settled into the chair beside Boone and tucked her feet under her. “Don’t you know Santa’s not supposed to return for another nine months?”
“I like your kids. They’re good people.”
Nixie looked at him suspiciously. She thought he had been joking, but one look at the sincere smile on his handsome face told her he meant what he said. Hadn’t he seen by now what little stinkers her children could be?
The few other men who’d come to her home had chosen not to return after the first visit. She had suspected they’d been put off by the mere presence of the children, yet Boone was a man who claimed to like them even though they could be very rambunctious at times.
She turned her attention to him. “How’s your forehead?”
Boone lifted a hand and touched the spot above his eye. Nixie admired the way his simple motion caused the muscles to bunch in his upper arm.
“Back to normal.”
Slipping back into the role she’d played so many years ago, she shot back, “I knew that hard head of yours would come in handy someday.”
Boone was just as quick with his reply. “It’s even harder now. I don’t take no for an answer.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I still feel bad about shrinking your dress. Let me take you to dinner Friday night.”
“That’s not necessary. Besides, you’ve more than made up for it by buying Brad’s uniform.”
“I would have done that anyway.” He leaned back again and pushed away the shaggy blond hair that had fallen over his eyebrow. When Nixie started to make excuses, he repeated, “I don’t take no for an answer.”
She studied the man who had once been her chief tormentor. Why was he being so nice now? This side of Boone Shelton unsettled her. She was used to dealing with his orneriness and teasing, aggravating as it was. But when he was being nice like this, she couldn’t help suspecting he was up to something.
She shook off the feeling of unease. Maybe he was truly repentant for what he’d done to her dress and was honestly trying to make it up to her. If that was the case, perhaps she should let him assuage his guilt and be done with it.
“What if we say it’s just for old times’ sake?” he prompted.
Maybe if she said yes, he’d satisfy his guilt, she’d satisfy her belief that they could never get along, and then they’d both go their separate ways. “I get off at five,” she said, “unless I happen to be tending a hit-and-run victim.”
“That should be no problem since one of the Cub Scouts wrote down the license number of the car that hit me. The driver is to appear in court next month.” He laughed. “Funny thing is, we had just talked at the meeting before that about what to do if you witness a crime. Those kids remember more than you’d think.”
There was no mistaking the pride in his voice when he talked about the young Scouts. A chill came over her as she realized that was the same tone Paul had used when bragging about Bethany and Brad.
At times such as this, Boone Shelton actually seemed tender and sensitive, an image that did not go with his boisterous, rough nature. It looked like she was going to have to rethink her impressions of him.
5
Dinner Friday night was another occasion in which Nixie was forced to look at her childhood nemesis in a different light.
She’d been expecting him to take her to the Rib Rack, a popular local restaurant that featured lots of beef and a casual—even rowdy—atmosphere. Instead, he’d surprised her by making reservations at Jean Jacques in a nearby town.
He’d surprised her further by recommending an excellent chicken dish to Nixie and ordering their meals in fluent French. This was certainly not the monosyllabic boy she remembered from high school.
While they waited for their dinner, Boone asked her a few questions, and soon she was telling him all about Paul. Not just the good things that people tend to remember after a loved one is gone, but she even told him that her husband had been a workaholic, something she’d never shared with anyone else.
When she explained how they’d been on their way to a weekend getaway at a mountain cabin to escape the stress of his job and of tending to the two babies, she appreciated Boone’s quiet understanding.
And when she described how she had tried helplessly to free her unconscious husband after she’d regained consciousness herself, from the flaming car after he’d fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree, she was thankful for Boone’s non-pitying empathy.
It wasn’t until their desserts arrived that she realized she had monopolized the entire conversation. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to bore you.”
Boone looked across the table at the exciting woman sitting opposite him. “You don’t bore me.” He wanted to add, “You fascinate me,” but thought better of it. With his record of teasing, he knew she wouldn’t take him seriously.
“Well, enough about me,” she said, plunging her spoon into the strawberry parfait. “Tell me about your newspaper. You seem to be making quite a few improvements.”
“There’s not much to tell,” he admitted. “I saw my hometown newspaper on the brink of going under, so I bought it and am trying to turn it around.”
“I’ve been enjoying the new advice column, ‘Ask Aunt Alice.’ Is she a local person?”
Boone tensed. He bought a few seconds by mashing the remaining crumbs of his seven-layer cake onto his fork. “Alice is a very private person,” he said at last. “She feels more comfortable staying in the background.”
Nixie nodded her agreement. “I suppose it would get tiresome to have people telling her their problems every time she goes to the store or to get her hair done.”
He smiled. “Yes, I suppose it’s something like that.”
Nixie dabbed the napkin to her mouth and flashed him a decidedly sneaky smile. “Do you always reserve the front page for catastrophic, earth-shaking news?”
Boone paused a moment before answering. From that smug smile to her intense interest in his plans for the newspaper, it was clear she was baiting him. Always open for a little sport, he bit.
“Only the most incredible news goes on page one.”
“Like the opossum that gave birth in Mrs. Masten’s garbage can?”
“It’s not every day a person finds baby wildlife in her garbage can.”
“If the rescue squad were to sponsor a fundraiser, would you put that on page one?”
Boone smiled his amusement. The woman was definitely persistent. “It depends on whether the photo opportunity rates right up there with Mrs. Masten’s possums.”
“Just what I wanted to hear. I’m sure you’ll want to assign a reporter to cover our project, as soon as I figure out what it’s going to be. I’ll let you know the date as soon as the committee decides.”
“Tell me, why is it so important for the rescue squad to receive news coverage in the Gazette?”
“It’s the fire department, too, actually. We’re having membership drives, and public awareness makes people more willing to donate money to buy more modern equipment and convert to an upgraded 911 system.”
“What’s wrong with the current system?”
“Right now, it won’t accept text messages. The system can only take voice calls.”
It seemed fairly obvious, but as a journalist he had to ask, “Why can’t people just call? Seems like it would be easier and quicker to give the information that way?”
A shadow fell over Nixie’s delicate features. He knew from experience that she wasn’t as delicate as she looked, but right now she seemed almost … fragile.
“The first person who stopped to help Paul and me was deaf. His text wouldn’t go through. I was unconscious, so he had to wait for the next passerby to stop before they could give instructions to the dispatcher.” Nixie grew silent for a moment before continuing. “Paul might have been saved if the fire department had arrived a few minutes sooner.”
Boone frowned and idly rubbed where the hair tickled the nape of his neck. She was blaming herself for her husband’s death. No wonder she was so insistent in her efforts to publicize the rescue department’s activities.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, then withdrew his ever-present pad and pen from his coat pocket. “This sounds like a story.” Jotting down the essentials, he said, “I’ll have the feature writer contact you next week.”
Nixie was shaking her head. “I don’t want a story about me. I’d be happier if you’d send your reporter to cover the squad’s publicity project … when we pick a date for it, that is.”
He figured now would be the time to tell her about the Cub Scout event next month. “All right,” he said, tucking the pad and pen back in his coat pocket, “but I’d suggest you make it any day but the twenty-fifth. That’s the weekend of the family camporee.”
Nixie looked at him blankly. It didn’t sound like something that should concern her.
“The Cub Scout camp-out,” Boone clarified. “Brad is expected to come. And you and Bethany should be there that morning and afternoon for Family Day.”
Nixie didn’t like the idea of this. What had started as a few den meetings where her son would memorize pledges and make crafts had now ballooned into the kind of activity she feared for him to be involved in. Why, he could become lost in the woods, get bitten by a snake, or any number of other things she’d rather not think about.
Boone must have misread her concern for reluctance to participate. “You won’t have to stay for the whole thing,” he assured. “That night is for Scouts and fathers only.”
Nixie didn’t have time to respond before he caught his error and suggested, “Perhaps Mr. Cordaire would like to fill in this time.”
The panic she’d felt a moment ago was now replaced by amusement at his suggestion. “Uncle Jay sleeping in a tent? He might go for it if you could promise him a portable TV that would pick up HBO.” She shook her head. “Besides, his snoring would keep everyone else awake.”
Elbows resting on the table and fingers steepled, Boone was quiet for a moment. In that suit and those glasses, he looked almost … studious. Quite a different picture from the time he’d appeared at her door in shredded jeans and a shirt with the sleeves hacked off.
“Then, unless you or Brad object, I’d like for him to be with me that night.”
On the surface, it sounded like a sweet offer, but Nixie couldn’t allow it if he was doing it out of pity. Worse, what if Brad mistakenly read something into the situation?
What if he became dependent on Boone as a father figure of sorts? She couldn’t allow her son to be hurt. In the short time he’d known Boone, Brad already seemed to idolize him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
From the way he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, Nixie knew her comment had been carelessly blunt. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but she couldn’t allow her child to be hurt, either.
“Fine, but if you can’t find someone else, my offer still stands. Brad’s a Cub Scout now, Nixie, and I expect him to be there and participate fully, come hell or high water … or rescue squad publicity event.”
His meaning was clear. He was warning her not to plan her media event for that day and use it as an excuse not to attend the camporee. But he should know by now that he could no longer tease, cajole, or even threaten her into bending to his will.
Boone Shelton had always managed to pop into her life at the most inconvenient times—such as the time he ruined her date with Craig Curtis, the high school hunk—and he never failed to create turmoil with her well-laid plans.
Well, this time he wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let him. Although Nixie was happy that Brad had found a friend in Boone and that the Scout leader encouraged him to act more responsibly, she was leery of Boone’s intrusion into their lives. After all, he was encouraging her son to participate in new and risky activities. Her worst fear was that something terrible might happen to one of her children.
Tonight was Friday, and Boone wasn’t expected to come to the house until next Wednesday, when he picked up Brad for the weekly den meeting. Maybe by then she’d come up with a way to discourage her son—her baby—from going on the camporee. He was so small and vulnerable, and he needed to be protected from Boone’s good intentions.
Boone stood and walked around to her chair. He offered her a hand up to escort her from the restaurant and flashed a warm smile that threatened to melt her resolve.
A frightening thought flitted through her mind. Who would protect her from Boone and his good intentions?
The next morning Nixie was still wondering at her reaction to Boone when he’d stood on her front porch and said good night. For what must have been one of the most insane moments of her life, she’d found herself wishing he would kiss her.
Instead, Uncle Jay had switched on the porch light and peeked out through one of the three small windowpanes in the door. Even if Boone had been inclined to kiss her, Nixie was certain that the sight of her grinning uncle would have been enough to squelch the notion.
She hadn’t slept well and chose to blame her restlessness on the rich food she’d eaten at dinner. When she awoke early to the sound of water gurgling down the rainspout and thunder clapping in the distance, she got up and pitched her fitful energy into Saturday morning chores.
