Matt's Family

Kristin stood frozen, eyes closed in horror, hands holding the plate against her chest.

Jenny cried louder, working up to a real tantrum. Kristin finally jerked herself into motion and eased the cake back onto the plate. “Hush, Jenny, love. Let’s look at Buster’s paw, okay?” She set the plate on the counter, then knelt in front of the dog, who immediately licked at her shirt. “Which paw did I get, Buster? This one?” He wagged his black-and-white plume of a tail as she checked all four feet. “He’s fine, Jenny. Don’t worry.”

Erin stared at her from the end of the counter. “Mommy, you’ve got icing all over you!”

Kristin sighed. “I know.” The top of the cake looked like a bomb crater. So much for her perfect Memorial Day dessert.

She was whipping icing and wiping tears out of her eyes when Matt came through the door. “Hey, Kris—whoa! Did a hurricane blow through?”

Kristin glanced at his immaculate uniform, around the wrecked kitchen, at the ruined cake and her filthy shirt, and blinked back more tears.

“I had a problem with the cake, that’s all.”

He frowned. “I thought you were making potato salad.”

“I did.” She added more sugar to the bowl. “I said I’d bring dessert, too.”

“That doesn’t leave much for anybody else to cook.”

She shook her head. “Of course it does. Sarah and Luke are bringing a green salad and baked beans. Your mother and dad are supplying the hamburgers—”

Matt raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Okay, okay. I just meant you shouldn’t work so hard.” He skimmed a dollop of icing off her neck and sucked it off his finger. “Mmm. You taste wonderful.” The kiss he placed under her ear sent a sweet shiver down her spine. “Are the girls ready?”

“Not yet. I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”

“I’ll get them dressed.” He headed for the stairs. Kristin thought about calling him back—the girls weren’t exactly cooperating today. But they liked going to their grandparents’ house. Maybe they wouldn’t put up a fuss. If they did, Matt could handle it. Right?

Thirty minutes later, with a smooth, plain coat of icing on the cake, Kristin hurried down the hallway to the bedrooms. She peeked into Jenny’s and found it empty. But the outfit she’d ironed earlier this morning—the one Matt’s mother had given them—still lay on the bed. What was Jenny wearing?

Erin’s nice clothes lay crumpled on the floor of her room. She picked them up. “Girls? Matt? Where are you?”

“We’re in the bathroom, Kris.” His voice sounded tired.

She pushed open the door of the big yellow bathroom. Matt sat on the floor with his elbows propped on his bent knees, a spray bottle in one hand, a comb in the other. Facing him stood Erin and Jenny, wrapped in their towels, both with wet, tangled hair.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t you dressed?”

Matt ran a hand over his head, then simply looked at the girls. Erin stuck out her lower lip. “It hurts when he combs my hair.”

Kristin sighed. “Erin, you say it hurts when I comb your hair. We’re as gentle as we can be. Your hair has to be combed. Did you use the untangler spray?”

Saying nothing, Matt held up the bottle.

She took it from him. “Okay, I’ll spray it again. I’ll do your hair, Erin, and Matt can do Jenny’s. We only have a few minutes to get ready.”

But Jenny backed up against the vanity. “My hair hurts, too. And he got soap in my eyes.”

Jenny always complained of soap in her eyes when Matt was in charge of bath time. This wasn’t a real grievance. This was mutiny, plain and simple.

And the grimness in Matt’s face, a despair he was trying his best to hide, testified to the mutiny’s effect.

Kristin fought down a surge of irritation. “Well, we could stay home and let you both sit in your rooms with tangled hair. But that would disappoint Grandmom and Granddad, who are looking forward to seeing you.” She held out her hand to Matt.

He slapped the comb onto her palm. Getting neatly to his feet, he stepped by her to the door. “I’ll change clothes,” he said quietly. And was gone.

“I’ll comb hair.” Kristin turned Erin around with a firm hand. “And I don’t want to hear any complaints from either of you. We’re going to be late, as it is.”

And they were. By the time they got the girls settled in the car and fought beach traffic, they were a long, tense, forty minutes late.

Wishing the afternoon were already over, Matt parked the van in his parents’ driveway and released the door lock. As if they’d been freed from jail, Erin and Jenny ran through the grass and around the back of the house to the deck on the beach.

When he opened Kristin’s door, she took a deep breath and slid carefully to the ground, cradling the covered cake. Then she looked up at him somberly. “I’m sorry about the girls.”

His resentment melted. He smiled a little and set his hand along the angle of her jaw, stroking his thumb across her smooth cheek. “I’ll be okay.”

Eyes closed, she pressed her head into his palm for a second, then stepped away. “We’d better get inside.”

“If you say so.” Matt followed her toward the kitchen door, carrying the potato salad and appreciating the chance to watch Kristin from the back. Bright sunlight did great things for her soft tan and shiny hair. Her dark-blue sleeveless shirt showed off her arms, while white shorts and sandals left a nice length of her legs in view. The first time he’d seen her, he’d known she was the prettiest, sexiest girl he would ever meet. More than ten years later, he’d never encountered another woman who could make him change his mind.

His mother looked up in surprise as they stepped through the kitchen door. “I wondered what had happened to you. It’s after four-thirty.” She brushed at her silver bangs with a fingertip and stared at Kristin expectantly.

Matt stepped forward to run interference. He bent slightly to kiss Elena Brennan’s cheek. “Sorry, Mom. Sometimes the girls need more time than we think they will. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” She took the bowl of potato salad out of his hands and placed it precisely on the counter. “Your father is on the deck with Luke and Sarah.”

Kristin came closer. “Where shall I put the cake?”

Elena arched her eyebrows. “Oh, I didn’t think you’d have time to make dessert. Let’s put yours over here beside mine.”

Kristin squeezed her eyes closed as she relinquished the plate. Matt didn’t see a problem with the nice, smooth icing…until his mother set Kristin’s cake next to her own berry-laden version. Suddenly, the white cake looked a little drab.

He put a hand on Kristin’s shoulder. “Anything else we can do, Mom?”

His mother smoothed her red slacks over her still-slim hips. “No, dear. I believe everything is just about ready. Why don’t you start the grill?”

“Sure.” He moved Kristin ahead of him. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered in her ear as he opened the door onto the deck.

Looking back over her shoulder, she gave him a rigid smile. “Worry about what?”

Matt stared at her back as she walked outside. As difficult as his mother could be, Kris would never admit to being upset. That she couldn’t share something so obvious, so basically harmless, indicated a significant lack of trust.

Or was Kris hiding something so terrible she couldn’t share anything with him, in case the worst slipped out? What the hell would “the worst” be?

“Well, Matt, it’s about time you showed up.” Across the deck, his father sat beneath an umbrella, filling his pipe. “Your mother’s been wondering.”

“Getting two little girls ready for a party doesn’t always go smoothly, Dad.” He reached out to shake the Colonel’s hand as Kristin sat down on the glider nearby.

“Isn’t that the truth?” The man sitting in the chair to the Colonel’s left set down his drink.