“I was changing diapers when I was eight,” he said. “We had help, but—” He shrugged.
“The kids wanted you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not sure how it happened, but they all seemed to think of me as a second father.”
Miranda hid her smile. She could understand that. If he was then like he was now, yes, toddlers would see him as an adult. “Eli was like that,” she said. “Sometimes I think he knew what his father was like from the beginning. Leslie used to get angry because when he tried to hold Eli, the child would start kicking and fussing. He never really cried, just tried to get away.”
Frank put the potatoes in the bowl Miranda held out. “Intuition. You probably won’t believe this, but a strong and reliable intuition is a big basis for my success.”
“That’s the same as Eli! Many times he’s said to me, ‘Mom, don’t do that.’ He never has a reason, but it always turns out that he’s right.”
“It’s good that you listen to him. How do he and his father get along now?”
“Not well at all.” As she cooked, Miranda talked about the joy of her life with her son, Eli. Twice, she said she should stop as she was boring him, but he encouraged her to go on. Now and then he’d ask a question about Eli’s schooling, how he got along with other kids, even if Eli was eating enough. Frank leaned back against the stone wall and listened as though what she was telling him was fascinating.
“You now know more about my son than his father does,” she said as she handed him a metal plate full of fish and potatoes, then watched as he began to eat.
“This is very good,” he said. “None of my chefs could do better. Why don’t you sit here? You can get a better view.”
He indicated a place beside him. Miranda hesitated, but then sat down near him. It was very pleasant under the rock, with the rain pounding outside.
“I could help you with the legalities of getting your ex-husband to pay,” he said softly.
Miranda started to say that she needed help, but didn’t. “That’s a very kind offer but I’ll manage. Tell me more about your family. What was it like growing up in a large family?”
“Hectic,” he said. Long ago he’d made it a rule not to talk about his childhood, but with this woman things were different. “Shall I tell you about the time my brothers Mike and Kane decided to tame all the broncs we brought down off the winter range?” He paused a moment. “They were five.”
Miranda laughed. “Yes, please do. Unless it has a sad ending. I can’t bear stories with unhappy endings.
“If you mean did they live to grow up and marry and have kids, yes, it’s happy. But back then, when Mom got hold of them, it wasn’t happy at all.”
“Then tell me,” she said as she put another fish on Frank’s plate. “I want to hear all the happy stories you have.”
Frank had never thought of himself as a storyteller, but when Miranda started laughing, he enjoyed the sound so much that he kept embellishing his story. When he told how he, a child himself, had run under the horses’ bellies to get to his little brother Mike, Miranda put her hand to her throat. She gasped in such a satisfying way that Frank told another story about his brother Mac and a rattlesnake.
Miranda was a great audience, laughing, showing fear, congratulating him. By the time they finished the meal, they were smiling at each other.
“Oh, look, it’s stopped raining,” she said as she cleaned their utensils.
“About half an hour ago.”
Miranda smiled. “I guess we should go. We should—” When she looked at him, there was regret on her face. They’d had such a pleasant time that she didn’t want it to end.
Neither did Frank. “We have two and a half days with nothing whatever to do,” he said as he stood up. “Any suggestions?”
“I have no idea.” Her head came up. “Do you have a secret place where you’ve taken no other human being? A place not even your family knows about? I’d like to see that.”
He thought for a moment, then said, “Actually, I do. In the 1880s a prospector was sure there was gold in these mountains and he lived alone up here. He went down twice a year for supplies. I found his cabin. It’s a day’s trek up there, but we could stay a night then return. I promise I’ll behave myself.”
“Darn!” Miranda said before she thought. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have—”
Bending forward, Frank smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s go home and plan our trip.”
For a fraction of a second, the backs of his fingers touched her cheek, but then he moved away.
The little touch so unnerved Miranda that she searched for something to break the silence. “Wish I’d brought my camera,” she said. “Eli would love to see photos of an old cabin.”
“I have one here. We can take it with us.”