For Mike's Sake Page 7

  "No, you don't have to like it," Maggie agreed, "but you should keep an open mind about it. You haven't even met the woman your father wants to marry."

  "Stop calling him that!"

  Mike began unbuttoning the shirt of his baseball uniform, his head bent to the task.

  "All right." Maggie accepted the reproval. "You haven't met the woman Wade wants to marry. You could like her. She might be a lot of fun."

  If the impression Maggie had gained from the telephone conversation was accurate, with her poise and sophistication Belinda would not easily relate to a ten-year-old's idea of a person who is a lot of fun. There were enough negatives buzzing around in Mike's head without adding more.

  "Why couldn't he marry you?" It was more a protest than a question.

  Mike tugged his shirttail from the waistband of his pants.

  "Because he loves somebody else. Besides, maybe I wouldn't want to marry him."

  It was a tantalizing thought, one she didn't dare think about.

  "You were fighting again, weren't you?" It was almost an accusation. "I heard you and dad talking, and you sounded angry."

  Maggie wasn't certain how to handle that, so she decided to avoid it.

  "Which reminds me, your fa — Wade said he would call you tomorrow afternoon. He mentioned something about going boating."

  "Boating! Oh, wow! That's great!" Mike declared exuberantly, completely diverted from his previous subject.

  Maggie understood his enthusiasm. Most of his friends went boating almost every weekend. It was a symbol of status in the community not to be a two-car family, but a two-boat family. Mike probably wasn't aware of that, but he did know his friends were always talking about what they did. Now he would have a story of his own to tell the others.

  "That's tomorrow." Playfully Maggie pulled the bill of his cap low on his forehead. "Tonight, it's out of that uniform and into the tub."

  "Cut it out," he grumbled in protest, but there was a grin on his face as he pushed her hand away.

  THE NEXT MORNING Maggie was in the utility room, folding the clean clothes from the drier.

  The washing machine was in its spin cycle, and its thumping roar combined with the music from the radio and the whir of the drier drowned out all other sounds.

  It wasn't until the washing machine stopped that Maggie heard the phone ringing in the kitchen. She dashed quickly to answer it.

  "Rafferty residence," she rushed, half expecting to hear a dial tone to indicate the caller had hung up.

  "Maggie? It's Wade."

  Her already racing pulse redoubled its tempo. Determinedly she tried to check its thudding rise. "Mike's outside. I'll get him for you."

  Before she could put the receiver down, Wade was ordering, "Wait a minute."

  "Yes?"

  A self-conscious hand touched the flaming silk tumble of hair on top of her head, secured there by a green ribbon. It was crazy — Wade couldn't see her.

  "Did you talk to Mike last night?"

  "Yes, I did." She marshaled her scattered thoughts. "He was upset, naturally. It was such a surprise to him. No child likes things to change unless it's instigated by him. It makes him insecure."

  "Mike's life isn't changing that drastically because of my marriage."

  "But Mike sees that it potentially could," Maggie pointed out. "His main worry seems to be that you might have other children and forget him."

  "Maggie, you know …" Wade began impatiently.

  "I'm not saying it would happen," she interrupted. "I'm saying that it concerns Mike. He isn't an impulsive boy. It's going to take him time to adjust to the idea of a stepmother.

  "You've known her for more than a year, Mike hasn't even met her. One or two meetings aren't going to be enough for him, either."

  "No, it will take time," Wade agreed in a grimly resigned voice. "How was he after your talk?"

  "Eager for today to come so he could go boating with you." Then Maggie realized the time. "You haven't had to change your plans, have you? You said you'd call this afternoon."

  "I haven't changed my plans. At least, I'm not canceling the outing," he qualified his statement. "I thought Mike might like to leave sooner, have lunch aboard the boat."

  "He'd love it."

  "Do you mind?"

  "No, I don't mind," Maggie insisted, and wondered where the silly lump came from in her throat. "You'll want to talk to him. I'll tell him you're on the phone."

  "There's no need." Once again Wade stopped her. "Just tell him I'm leaving now and for him to be ready when I arrive."

  "I will."

  "Maggie? Thanks," he said simply.

  She hesitated.

  "You'll have to do the same for me someday when I decide to get married." The idea seemed so remote at the moment that it was laughable. Instead, Maggie felt tears pricking her eyes.

  "You can count on it," Wade promised.

  It was several minutes after he had said goodbye before Maggie had enough composure to walk to the back door to call Mike inside.

  She had judged his reaction accurately. He was ecstatic over the change of plans.

  When he ran to his room to change shirts and put on a clean pair of tennis shoes, Maggie freshened her makeup and took the green ribbon from her hair.

  Then it was back to the utility room and the clothes in the drier.

  As she was pairing the socks, Mike poked his head around the door.

  "I'm going outside to wait for dad."

  "Have a good time." Maggie smiled to conceal her envy for his day.

  "You bet!"

  "I'll see you tonight." But Mike was already gone and prating words bounced forlornly off the walls of the utility room.

  Trying not to dwell too much on what she was going to do with herself all day, Maggie methodically folded the socks and put them with the stack of clothes in the wicker basket.

  When it was filled, she picked it up. It was heavy and she hurried in order to bring a quick end to the weight tugging at her arms.

  As she rounded the archway into the living room, she was hit broadside by a tall, hard form. The collision wrenched the basket from her straining hands, flipping it upside down and dumping the folded clean clothes onto the floor.

  The force of the collision staggered her, but a pair of large hands immediately steadied her.

  Wade's hands — her senses recognized his touch immediately.

  On impact, she had issued a startled cry. Her heart was lodged in her throat as she stared at Wade and not a sound could get past it.

  A white knit shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, contrasted with the navy pants and Windbreaker he wore. The dark blue color intensified the jet blackness of his attractively unkempt hair, looking as if it were freshly rumpled by a sea breeze. A concerned look was etched in his harshly vital and male features, his dark eyes piercing in their scrutiny.

  With an effort Maggie forced her gaze from his compelling face, fighting the breathless waves of excitement that engulfed her.

  Her glance fell on the once nearly folded clothes scattered over the floor. They would all have to be folded, separated, and stacked in the basket again. Angry exasperation at the wasted time she'd spent overtook the rest of her tangled emotions and her hands slid to her hips in an attitude of temper.

  Before she could speak, Wade was saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were going to come racing around the corner at that moment."

  Racing around the corner! The phrase indicated the blame was hers.

  What had been a mere spark of anger blazed into full flame.

  She turned on him, her green eyes flashing. As her mouth started to open, his fingers closed it.

  There was a wicked twinkle in his dark eyes. "I said I was sorry," he reminded her. His thumb lightly caressed the curve of her mouth before he took his hand away and glanced at his son.

  "Come on, Mike. Let's help your mom pick up the clothes."

  That vague caress had turned away her anger. Maggie was left standi
ng there, impotent, while Mike and Wade bent to begin picking up the scattered clothes. It was several seconds before she recovered sufficiently to help them.

  "We were just coming in to tell you we were going," Mike explained.

  "You'll be home before dark, won't you?" Maggie hadn't asked Wade how long they intended to be gone.

  "We'll be back to the marina before dark." He satisfied her mind on that worry. "Don't wait dinner for Mike, though. We'll probably have something to eat before I bring him home."

  "Oh."

  That meant two meals she would have to eat alone, lunch and dinner.

  "Dad, are we going out on the boat alone, just you and me?"

  Mike bunched a group of socks together and stuffed them in the basket. Maggie rescued them and tried to sort them into pairs.

  "Yes, it will just be the two of us."

  "Why can't mom come along?"

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  Chapter Eight

  "MIKE!"

  She was so startled by Mike's unexpected request to include her in their plans that his name was the only word of protest she could think to make.

  Color rouged her cheeks for fear Wade might think she had previously hinted to Mike for the invitation. A sideways glance at Wade showed his curious frown.

  Mike pursued his request, ignoring her outburst.

  "She's on vacation and she doesn't have anything to do, especially with me going places with you." He continued without giving Wade a chance to reply, "I know mom likes boats 'cause I've seen the pictures of the boat you two used to have."

  "Mike," Maggie interrupted sharply, "your father wants to spend time alone with you. You and I will have time to do things together later."

  "Yeah, but —" he was struggling for the words "— we've never done things together like a family. At least, I was too little to remember if we did. And —"

  "But we aren't a family," Maggie protested.

  "Yes, we are," Wade corrected her in a quiet but firm voice. "You are the mother, I am the father and Mike is the son. A divorce doesn't change that."

  "No, but …" She felt panic.

  "Can she come along, dad?" Mike interrupted eagerly, his eyes alight with cautious hope.

  "Of course she can come along," Wade agreed, and glanced at Maggie.

  "Will you go boating with us?"

  She was thrown into confusion. He couldn't really mean it, but there wasn't any reluctance in his voice or his expression.

  "Oh, but I —" she began.

  "Please, mom!" Mike inserted to ward off her refusal.

  "Please, Maggie."

  Wade lent his voice to Mike's. His expression was serious, not a hint of mockery to be seen.

  She might have resisted Mike's plea, but to deny Wade's was impossible.

  Her head was bobbing in agreement before she could get the words out.

  "Very well, I'll come with you." Not without misgivings.

  Her glance went down the crisp blue Levi's she wore and plain knit top. "I'll have to —"

  Wade saw the direction her thoughts were taking and interrupted.

  "There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing. A pair of tennis shoes and a Windbreaker are the only additions we'll need. Mike and I don't want to wait the time it would take you to change entirely."

  This time there was a glint of mockery in his dark eyes.

  "It doesn't take me that long," Maggie denied with a defiant tilt of her chin.

  "Only forever," Mike exaggerated.

  "That isn't true!" There was an indignant gleam in her look.

  "The invitation was issued with the proviso to 'come as you are,'" Wade told her. "Mike, go and get her shoes and a Windbreaker."

  "Right, dad."

  And he put his agreement into action.

  Common sense agreed that there was nothing wrong with what she was wearing. Her Levi's and top were neat and clean.

  Vanity, however, insisted there were outfits in her wardrobe equally serviceable and much more fashionable. But between Wade and Mike, they had taken the choice out of her hands.

  Wade added the last of the clothes to the basket and set it aside. Maggie watched him. He lifted the heavy basket so easily.

  All thought of clothes was pushed from her mind, the void to be filled by recognition of his powerfully muscled frame and his innate virility.

  She realized how dangerous it was to spend an afternoon or an hour with him.

  "I don't think this is a good idea," she murmured aloud.

  "What?" He cocked his head at an inquiring angle, a brow lifting slightly, a half smile touching his mouth. "Not changing clothes?" he mocked.

  "No, my going with you." In self-defense, Maggie hastened to disguise the truth of her answer. "The idea is for Mike to adjust to your coming marriage. My coming along is just going to confuse the issue."

  "I don't agree." He eyed her steadily. "Since Mike has grown up, he's either been with you alone, or with me alone — never in the company of a couple where he isn't the sole object of attention. Today he's going to see what it's like when there are three people together. For the experiment, it's you instead of Belinda."

  "That's very logical," she murmured.

  His motives for wanting her along became obvious. It wasn't a desire for her company, or for a last time to be together as a family.

  No, Wade was sparing his darling Belinda from any outright rejection by his son. Some of the inner joy that Maggie had hardly dared to let herself feel faded at the discovery.

  "What's very logical?"

  Mike returned with her tennis shoes and yellow Windbreaker.

  For a split second Maggie was at a loss for an answer. "For your father to invite me along so he won't have to cook."

  "Yeah, that is pretty smart, dad," he agreed with a grin.

  "I thought so."

  Stepping out of the casual leather loafers, Maggie put on the tennis shoes and tied the laces. The thin, slick jacket she let drape over one shoulder. When she was ready, Mike led the way outside.

  If Maggie needed any further reminder that she was only a stand-in for Belinda, the silver Mercedes provided it. She began to wonder if the boat, too, belonged to his future bride.

  For once, she didn't have the audacity to ask. Although there was ample room in the front seat for three, she chose to sit alone in the back. It saved making innocuous conversation.

  "What do you think of the car, Mike? You never did comment on it yesterday."

  Wade turned it onto a busy street, the luxury car accelerating into the flow of traffic.

  "It's nice." Mike was obviously unimpressed by the plushness of the interior. "But I like that fourwheel-drive vehicle you have in Alaska a lot better. It can go anywhere!"

  Wade chuckled and admitted, "There are times when you can't get around unless you have that kind of vehicle."

  Personally Maggie thought Wade was more suited to the type of vehicle Mike had described. Not that he didn't look perfectly at home behind the wheel of this luxury model.

  But the plush, elegant car seemed to shield its owner from the realities of life, whereas Wade was the kind of man who met life head-on, taking the knocks and driving forward, going anywhere he pleased.

  But such admiration for the character of the man he was is not wise.

  Maggie turned her attention to the city sprawling around them. Like the Eternal City of Rome, Seattle had originally been a city of seven hills. Shortly after the turn of the century, Denny Hill was leveled to permit the city to expand.

  Water dominated the city, not just because it was a seaport, but because of the two lakes within its limits and a ship canal, as well as its being flanked by Lake Washington on the east and Puget Sound on the west.

  Considering that fact, it wasn't surprising that there were more boats per capita than anywhere else in the country.

  Maggie was positive they were all crowded into the marina where Wade stopped. Unerring, he led them past the rows of boats, all
shapes, sizes, and kinds, to a sleek powerful cruiser.

  It was larger and a later model than the one they owned when they were married. Maggie felt she was stepping back in time when she stepped aboard. As he helped her onto the deck, her flesh tingled at the impersonal grip of his hand.

  "Where are we going? Just anywhere?"

  Mike wanted to know their destination, at the same time not caring.

  "We'll decide when we reach open water. How's that?" Wade loosed the mooring ropes. "Or maybe we won't go anywhere special."

  "I suppose it's too far to go all the way to the ocean."

  "No, it isn't too far, but I think we'll find enough to see and do without that."

  The inboard motors roared to life and Wade began maneuvering the cruiser out of the crowded marina waters.

  Mike was right at his side observing everything he did. There was a tightening in her throat as Maggie saw how strong the resemblance was between father and son, Mike a young miniature of Wade.

  The breeze coming off the water was cool. Maggie started to slip her Windbreaker on, then decided, "I'll go below and start lunch now."

  "Good idea," Wade agreed, and combed his fingers through his wind-ruffled hair. "We're well stocked with food, so fix whatever you like." As she started down the open hatchway, he called after her, "Maggie? There's some bait shrimp in the refrigerator. I didn't want you to mistake it for the eating kind."

  She heard the teasing laughter in his voice and retorted, "Are you sure you wouldn't like a shrimp cocktail?" reminding him of the time the first year they were married when she had unknowingly used bait shrimp for that purpose.

  His rich laughter followed her below.

  The private joke was beyond Mike, but he was more interested in the use of the shrimp. "Are we going to fish?"

  "I thought we might. Fishing is supposed to be good."

  "Hey, mom! Why don't you wait to fix lunch until after we catch some fish? Then you can cook what we catch."

  "No, thanks. I might starve before then," Maggie called back.

  "It doesn't sound as if she thinks too much of us as fishermen, does it?" she heard Wade say

  "That's because she's never been fishing with us," Mike replied.

  "Didn't you tell her about any of the fish we caught?"