The Single Dad's Guarded Heart

“Doesn’t that tell Mrs. Glenroe we liked her cooking?” “Well, yes, but…” Flustered, Wylie clammed up. He was more dismayed when Marlee laughed. The soft trill seemed to coil around places inside him long untouched. It was a nice sound, even if her laughter was at his expense.

“I’ll tell Mary you loved her pies, Dean. I recall enjoying a slice or two of her peach pies when I wasn’t much older than you.”

Marlee hadn’t realized that the roundabout path Wylie led them down now would end up not at the runway but at the back door of his cabin. Not until Dean darted ahead and she heard the screen door slam. The boy reappeared with pie tins before the others emerged from the woods into a clearing that held a vegetable garden fenced with chicken wire. She’d been so worried about not finding Jo Beth at the swing earlier, she’d completely missed seeing the garden. The neat rows of vegetables surprised her nearly as much as the flower box had. Ranger Ames was domestic, which one wouldn’t imagine looking at his very masculine body.

“Dad, the soup smells yummy. I’m hungry. Can’t Jo Beth and her mom stay and eat with us?”

Wylie and Marlee whipped out a simultaneous denial.

Jo Beth pouted and stamped a foot. “I’m hungry, too, Mama. Why can’t we eat with Dean?”

For the life of her, Marlee couldn’t find a way to tell the two children, who’d obviously hit it off, that neither she nor the boy’s father wanted to remain in each other’s company.

Ames reacted to his son’s disappointment by ruffling the boy’s red hair. Then he sighed, giving in to the pleas of the children. “Won’t take long,” he said to her, sounding gruff even though he smiled at the kids. “A matter of filling bowls and slicing bread.”

Marlee, who’d never felt more like turning tail, wasn’t about to be the bad guy in this setup. “Sure, okay. I’d hate to have Mary think she had to fix us something.” She gave a quick shrug. “They must be getting on in years, Mary and Finn. I haven’t seen them in…fourteen years.”

Wylie opened the back door and stood aside to let his guests enter. “Been three for me. Dean and I had to take a run to the lodge on the big snow cat that winter. Finn had complaints about a couple of guests. Whit Chadwick claimed they chased his sheep, and he’d recognized Finn’s snowmobile. The kids turned out to be Mary’s great-nephews, come from Dallas to celebrate her sixty-fifth birthday. And Finn’s even older.”

“Definitely not spring chickens.” Marlee followed Dean and Jo Beth through a laundry room into a country-style kitchen. She didn’t know what she’d expected—surely a cluttered mess much like she’d found at Mick and Pappy’s. Not so. The Ames’kitchen was spotless. Cheery curtains hung at the windows and bright place mats graced the table. A Crock-Pot on the counter emitted puffs of steam. Good-smelling steam. “Dean’s right,” Marlee said, stopping to close her eyes and sniff. “The soup smells delicious.”

The big man seemed to have retreated within himself once they’d left the great outdoors. He stepped to the sink to wash up, and quickly began to fill the bowls sitting out on the counter. Because he had to open a cupboard to retrieve a fourth bowl, Marlee was reminded that Ames had planned for Mick, and that she and Jo Beth were interlopers.

“Jo Beth, you and I need to wash, too.”

“Dean, show them to the main bath.”

The boy grabbed Jo Beth’s hand. Marlee trailed the chatty pair. As she passedWylie on her way into the hall, she sensed that he relaxed as his kitchen emptied. His son was his exact opposite. Dean and Jo Beth couldn’t seem to shut up, odd since her daughter was usually one to sit quietly, taking in everything around her.

That behavior had worried Marlee on her rare visits home. She’d worried that spending so much time with Cole during the worst of his illness might affect Jo Beth’s ability to relate normally. Her concern eased as the kids discussed what to feed a growing bear cub.

“Dean, that reminds me,” Marlee broke in. “Mick sent a couple of books. They’re still on the plane. Would you like me to go get them now or give them to you when we’re ready to leave?”

“When you leave’s okay. Wow, I wonder if he found the book I read about on the Internet! Bears as GoodNeighbors.”

“I don’t know. Before he went for surgery, he gave me the sack and told me to be sure to bring it when we flew your father’s generator parts in.”

“I’m glad you came ’stead of Mick.” He stuttered suddenly. “I—I didn’t mean—gosh, I like him, but you brought Jo Beth. I know she’s littler than me, but it’s neat having another kid to play with.”

“I understand.” Marlee inspected Jo Beth’s hands. “And this one is mature for her age. She spent a lot of time with her dad and grandmother.”

“Does Jo Beth read and write? If she does, we can e-mail. That is—if it’s okay with you. A ranger friend of my dad’s won’t let his kids use a computer. They’re both older’n me, too.”

“Jo Beth doesn’t read well enough to handle e-mail. She’s just five.”

“Can we talk on the phone? I know it costs more, but we can take turns.” His eyes shone with hope as he shoved back a shock of hair with a still-wet hand.

“Yeah, Mama. I want Dean to call and tell me if Boxer’s well enough to go and act like a real bear. He said maybe we can come watch when they let him out of his cage to go live in the forest.”

Dean lowered his voice. “That won’t be for a while yet, Mrs. Stein. Dad and me hafta teach Boxer to forage for berries and roots, and how to fish in the river.”

“If it’s okay with your father, Dean, you can call me Marlee. Jo Beth’s grandmother is ‘Mrs. Stein.’” She laughed. “I used to be Lieutenant Stein, but I’m out of the navy now, so that no longer applies.”

“I think it’s cool that you and Mick both fly planes. I can’t wait to get old enough to learn. I wanna be a veterinarian who flies to ranches and takes care of animals. Oh, maybe Mick sent a book on planes. We were talking last time he was here about all the different kinds.”

“Dean,” a deep male voice said outside the bathroom door. “Quit talking their ears off. The gumbo’s getting cold. I expected you to wash and come straight back.”

Without looking guilty, the boy scooted from the room. “Dad, can I call Jo Beth one night a week so I can update her on Boxer? Marlee said it’s okay with her if it’s okay with you. Oh, and she said Jo Beth’s grandmother’s Mrs. Stein and she’s Marlee. Well, she used to be lieutenant, like Mick. Now she’s not.”

“Can you tell Dean’s glad to have someone to talk to?” Wylie said with a wry grin. “Let him know when your ears are blistered.”

Marlee just smiled. But as they ate, had it not been for Dean’s endless chatter, it would’ve been a quiet meal indeed. Marlee barely managed to extract one-word responses from her host.

“Ah, this is whitefish gumbo? I’ve only ever had it with shrimp or okra.”

Wylie passed around thick-cut slices of bread. “Uh-huh.”

Dean nattered on about the animals they currently had in their makeshift hospital. “Jo Beth, you didn’t see my gray squirrel, or the porcupine with the broken leg. I think they were asleep in their cages. Next time you come, maybe they’ll be out.”

“I really like this bread. Whole wheat with Parmesan cheese?” Marlee asked.

“Oat.” Wylie scooted the butter dish closer, again lowering his gaze to his bowl.

Marlee couldn’t fault the man’s manners. And he controlled his son’s swinging legs with a touch, accompanied by a look Marlee called, “parents’ evil eye.” Smiling, she spread a thin layer of butter on her bread. “There are so many personal touches in this cabin, it makes me think you’ve been a ranger for quite a while.”

“Sixteen years.”

“That long? I guess that answers the question as to whether you like your job.”

“Yep.”

In the background Marlee heard Jo Beth ramble on to Dean about her two favorite spots in their old hometown. SeaWorld and the San Diego Zoo. “Honey, quit talking and eat. We have to stop at Glenroe’s, and I’d like to make it home before dark.” Also, Marlee didn’t want her daughter telling strangers why they’d left a city the child chose to rhapsodize about.

Wylie pushed back his chair, went to the counter and returned with the remaining soup. “Seconds anyone?” He lifted the ladle.

Dean held out his bowl, but Marlee declined any for herself and Jo Beth. Although, if they’d found any common ground, she might have stayed. The gumbo was superb.

When Jo Beth slurped up her last spoonful, Marlee quickly snatched the girl’s bowl and stacked it with hers. Repeating the process with their bread plates, she then started to carry the lot to the sink.

“Leave the dishes,” Wylie ordered.

Startled by his tone, Marlee let the stack of dishes clatter back to the mat. “Well, then. I hate to eat and run, but…” She pointedly turned her watch around and studied it.

“Wait a minute,” Dean implored. “You said you’d give me the books Mick sent.”

“So I did. Tell you what, Dean. I have to run through a preflight check of the Arrow. If I’m ready to take off before you finish, I’ll send Jo Beth to the house with the books.” Marlee swung her daughter into her arms. “Much obliged for the lunch,” she said, tossing her casual thank-you at the back of Wylie Ames’s head of shiny black hair. Without further ado, she left the cabin as they’d entered, via the back door.

As Marlee started her check, she couldn’t recall ever enduring such an uncomfortable forty-five minutes. Not even in the most stressful days she’d spent with Rose Stein. Which said a lot.