Dateline Matrimony (Hot off the Press! 3)

“Mom! We’re hungry again. Can we have a snack?” Mark and Maggie tumbled out the front door as they made the familiar request.

“First say hello to Riley’s uncle, Mr. O’Neal. These are my children, Mark and Maggie.”

“Children?” Bud’s bushy gray eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath the low-riding camo cap. He recovered quickly from his obvious surprise after only one searching glance toward his nephew. He gave his full attention to Mark and Maggie, and it was immediately apparent to Teresa that he enjoyed children.

“How do you like the new place?” he asked them.

“It’s cool,” Mark replied. “We didn’t have stairs in our other house.”

“My room’s best,” Maggie asserted. “It has a white fan and a big window and—”

“Let’s not start that discussion again,” Teresa interceded, seeing that Mark was prepared to start defending his own quarters.

“You like to fish, Mark?” Bud asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

“Never been fishing?” Bud looked almost scandalized. “How old are you?”

“I’m ten.”

“High time for you to try it out, then.”

Riley moved a step closer to Teresa. “Bud thinks fishing and hunting are almost a religion. He’s been taking me since I was big enough to walk.”

Always keenly aware of the lack of a father or grandfather in her son’s life, Teresa envied for Mark’s sake the close relationship Riley seemed to have with his uncle. “My father took me fishing a few times when I was very young,” she murmured. “I barely remember it, but I know I enjoyed being on the water.”

Watching Bud easily charming Teresa’s kids, Riley asked casually, “Is your father still living?”

“He and my mother died in a car accident when I was ten. It was their anniversary, and they had been out to celebrate.”

Even though Teresa had kept her voice deliberately uninflected, Riley turned to her with sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, watching Mark chattering to Bud about the move, his room, his school. Mark had never met a stranger—just like his father, she thought with a hard swallow. Her son’s eager gregariousness worried her—he was so trusting, so curious about everyone he met. How could she keep him safe without dampening his extroverted spirit?

Sometimes it terrified her to think of how much responsibility rested on her shoulders. She loved her children so much it hurt sometimes. The feeling that she alone was accountable for their safety, their happiness, their futures, was almost overwhelming.

A night breeze ruffled her hair and wafted down the neckline of her knit top. It reminded her that it was getting late. “We’d better go inside,” she said to her children, placing a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “You can each have an ice cream bar for dessert, and then it’s time for your baths. It was very nice to meet you, Mr. O’Neal—”

“Bud,” he reminded her.

The children bade good-night to Riley and his uncle, then dashed inside to help themselves to ice cream bars from the freezer.

“Your door unlocked?” Bud asked Riley.

“Yeah. Go on in. There are sodas in the fridge.”

“I know where to find everything. Take your time.”

Riley turned to Teresa when they were alone. “So…if you need anything…”

“Thank you, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t offering my services,” he corrected her. “I was just going to tell you there’s a phone book in your kitchen.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, gee. Thanks.”

His smile was almost smug, and she knew he was pleased that he’d made her laugh.