A Gleam In His Eye

“Be grateful,” Johanna said. “Things could have gotten really rocky after Dad died if she hadn’t been able to make a success of herself. And she’s a whole lot tougher than me. Why, I remember when I was your age…”

Aubrey edged closer to her big sister. “Jo?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Those two new kids at swim practice? They came to school today, too. One of them is going to be in my class. I kinda liked them.”

“Did you? Good. Me, too. And it’s hard to be the new kid, so they’ll need you to be nice to them.”

“Yeah, only know what?”

“What?”

“That guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy what brought them.”

“Their dad? What about him?”

“He looked like a dad, only he wasn’t.”

Johanna’s ears perked up. “He wasn’t their dad?”

“Nuh-uh. They kept calling him Uncle Hunter, so I asked Karen why and they said it was ’cuz that’s what he was. Their uncle.”

Aubrey now had Johanna’s total attention. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Everybody was yelling and stuff in the locker room and I still had some water in my ears so I couldn’t hear too good what she was saying, but it was something about their parents going someplace and them staying with their uncle.”

Well, well, well, wouldn’t it be nice if her instincts had been off base? Easily over six feet with dark, dark hair and piercing blue eyes, this particular man fit her definition of the quintessential male. In fact, you could probably look up the word male in the dictionary and find Hunter Pace listed as the definition. “So he only has the kids temporarily,” Johanna murmured out loud.

Aubrey scrunched her thin little shoulders. “I guess. Know what else? They got two more in their family. Aaron and Mikie. Karen says it’s no fair ’cuz she’s the only girl.”

Johanna watched Christopher finish off the milk directly from the gallon container. Boys were so…primitive. “I can see her point. Rinse that out and put it in the recycling container, Chris,” she directed her brother, and sat back in her chair. “I wonder why they changed schools and everything?” she mused out loud, then shrugged. “Maybe they took a job overseas or something and are going to be gone for months.”

“Wouldn’t they have taken their kids with them?” Grace asked.

“Not necessarily,” Chris responded as he stepped on the milk carton to crush it. “Some parts of the near East, for example, aren’t all that safe, but the money’s probably too good to pass up. I mean, the real father could be an engineer or something who works in oil. Heck, for all we know the mom could be an industrial or chemical engineer.”

Aubrey’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s what I’ll be. A engineer. I want to make lots of money, too, just like Karen’s mom.”

Johanna laughed. “Chris was just guessing, honey. For all we know Karen and Robby’s dad could be an elephant hunter and their mom a hula dancer.”

“For real?”

She laughed again. “I’m teasing, although I guess they could be. We’ll never know unless Karen or Robby tells us. I’m just surprised they didn’t send the kids to boarding school or something. It must be hard on their uncle to suddenly have four young kids living with him, but who knows, maybe the family is close and he’s used to it.”

The three youngest lost interest after that and fell into a discussion on whether Alexander Snyder was the dorkiest kid in school or not.

“He reads the encyclopedia at the bus stop.”

“Yeah, he’s up to F already.”

“F for fathead,” Stephen giggled.

“Why does he do that?” Johanna wondered. Any kind of intellectual display in front of preadolescents or adolescents, either one, was asking for trouble. “Did you ask him?”

“He says he hungers for knowledge,” Will snorted. “Ty told him he was a dorkhead and beat him up after that,” he reported matter-of-factly.

“You three better not be part of that,” Charlie said on his way through the room, giving Johanna much hope for his future. “You know what Johanna and Mom say all the time.”

“You don’t have to marry them, but you do have to be kind,” they all chorused together.

“That’s right,” Charlie nodded. “And you better not forget it or when I’m in charge after Jo leaves there may be serious rear end damage done around here. You think she’s tough, wait’ll you get a load of me.”

“Jo won’t let you spank us,” Aubrey said in her best nah-nah-nah voice.

“Jo won’t be here.”

Before things escalated out of control, Johanna got the four youngest up the stairs and into the bathroom to brush teeth and prepare for bed. She made a mental note to talk to Charlie some time before she moved out about not letting authority go to his head, and prepared for bed herself. She and her mother shared a bedroom. Cognizant of both their needs for privacy, they had put back-to-back shelving units partway down the center of the room. It was an imperfect solution, but provided more storage in a house crammed full of people and their paraphernalia and it gave Johanna the illusion of a space of her own.

Johanna put her bedside light on and climbed into the twin-size bed. Propping up the pillows against the wall behind her bed and settling back against them, she picked up the psychology book she’d been reading from her nightstand and found her place.

Twenty minutes later she snapped it shut, unable to concentrate. Her insides practically bubbled with impatience.

“A few more weeks,” she whispered to herself, and got out of bed. Johanna roamed the hall, checking under the doors for patches of light. Charlie and Chris were still up, naturally, and probably would be for a while. Charlie was almost eighteen, so his sleep patterns were his problem, and she was trying to lighten up on sixteen-year-old Chris as well. She wouldn’t say anything just yet.

The strip under Stephen and Will’s door was dark, but light shone out from under the girls’ door. Johanna opened it quietly and peeked in. Aubrey lay sprawled on her stomach, a green-stuffed rabbit clutched close, sound asleep. Grace sat up in bed, reading a laminated, numbered paperback.

“Whole class reading that one?” Johanna whispered as she nodded at the book in Grace’s hand.

“Yeah. Mr. Woodley says it’s a classic, but it really stinks. I mean, who’s gonna take the time to knit the names of people you want dead into your socks?”

“I thought it was a scarf.”

“Whatever.”

“I can’t say I ever cared much for Dickens, either. Twenty more minutes, max, then lights out, okay?”

“This is so boring I’ll probably be asleep long before then.”

Johanna shut the door.

What was the matter with her? Why was she so restless? Okay, she’d finally be out on her own, working a real job, using her hard-won education in a couple of weeks. It’s not as though it was happening tomorrow.

So what was the deal?