The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (58 page)

"You couldn't have stopped it. Besides, I think they're good for each other."

"Unfortunately, it's not good for us." He stood. "I'm going to check on Marcus."

"Change your shirt first and take the scowl off your face."

Drake changed, then met Eric as he came out of the bathroom.

"Come on," Drake said as he walked to the nursery. "Let's pretend we like each other."

They entered the room. Marcus's cries were now whimpers as he lay on the bed, his face buried in a pillow. Drake sat on the bed. Eric stood near the window.

"Marcus," Drake said gently, rubbing his son's back.

He turned, looked at them, and began to cry again.

Eric moved toward the door. "We probably scare him."

Drake sent him a look. "Stay."

He scowled but returned to the window.

Drake stroked Marcus's back. "It's all right."

"You fighting," Marcus said.

"We didn't mean it."

Marcus turned to him. "Your faces is bwoken."

Drake nodded. "You know how you get in trouble when you play rough with your friends?"

He nodded.

"We did that and got in trouble. We won't do it again."

"In the house," Eric added.

Drake glared at him.

Marcus wiped his eyes. "Was Mommy mad?"

"Very," Drake said.

His eyes widened. "You have to sit in corner?"

Drake shook his head in regret. "No, it's worse than that."

"What?" he whispered, intrigued.

"No dessert."

His mouth fell open at the harsh punishment. "Oh."

"We want you to know we're sorry."

"I'm okay. Mommy's making coco cake. You won't get none."

"Any," Drake corrected.

Eric knelt. "If you give me a hug I will feel better."

Marcus ran and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. "All better?"

He smiled. "All better."

Drake spoke up. "Mommy's in the kitchen now. Tell her we said we were sorry."

"Okay." Marcus ran out of the room.

Eric headed for the door. "I'll go now."

Drake seized his shoulder. "You're staying for dinner. I'll have to insist."

* * *

Eric hadn't called and Nina still wouldn't speak to her. Adriana stared at the phone. No one had called her. She was invisible. She picked up the phone to call Cassie, then put it down again. Cassie was probably busy. She had no right to disturb her with trivial affairs. She had created her own trouble. She stared at the phone again and then noticed the ringer had been turned off and the answering machine had been disconnected. She checked her mobile. The ringer was off too and she guessed her daughter had erased messages too.

Adriana stormed into her daughter's room. Nina sat at her desk coloring. "Did you turn the ringer off the phone?"

She didn't look up. "Yes and more."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like it."

"Nina, look at me."

She picked up another crayon.

Adriana took a deep breath. "I run a business. Phone calls are important. You can't just turn off the ringer and get rid of messages."

Nina turned to her. "Why don't you just send me to boarding school?"

"Because I want you here."

"No, you don't. You never wanted me. That's why you gave me to Dad after the divorce and visited twice a year."

"That's not true."

"It is true. You didn't want me then and you don't want me now."

"I did want you. I wanted you to have everything your dad could provide. You know I'm not as wealthy as he is."

Nina began coloring again.

To Adriana's own ears her reasoning sounded ridiculous, abdicating her role of mother so that Nina could have the wealth Laurence offered. How could a seven-year-old—no matter how bright—understand that? All Nina understood was that she had been abandoned. That she had a mother she would see a couple of times a year who asked her about school and gave her gifts.

"You might not understand this now," Adriana said slowly. "But I do love you and I wanted you to have the best. Unfortunately, I also made a mistake. I wasn't always there for you and that's a mother's job. I'm sorry."

Nina turned the page and started coloring a new picture.

Adriana didn't know what else to say, hoping that time would be a healer. "I'm going to see Uncle Eric tomorrow."

Nina looked up, excited. "Can I come?"

"No, you'll be in school. Is there anything you want me to tell him?" Adriana asked when her face fell.

"Give him this." She handed her a piece of paper.

Adriana looked down at a drawing—a picture of a man and a girl in a garden. Her absence from the picture was worse than Nina's silence.

* * *

Adriana gasped when Eric opened the door, looking like a mugging victim. "My God! No wonder you weren't at work. Did Bruce find you?"

He rested his arms on the door frame. "No. A little brotherly love. How can I help you?"

She tugged on the strap of her handbag. "I just wanted to see you."

He coughed. "You never returned my calls."

"Nina turned the ringer off and other mischief. I'm not very popular right now."

Silence fell.

"I'm sorry about the books," she said.

Eric shrugged. "It's okay."

"Let's not start lying to each other now. I hurt you and I'm sorry."

He lowered his eyes. "You were right though."

"No, I wasn't. They were beautiful. I just couldn't see that at first. I guess I was jealous that she prefers your gifts to mine. That you can make her happy while I can't."

He coughed.

"You have a cold."

"Nothing to worry about."

She stared at the floor, then looked at him. "Please don't shut her out because of me. It's not fair. She really likes you, you're her only friend. She drew you a picture." She took it from her purse and handed it to him. "You and her in a secret garden."

Eric stared down at the picture. His voice was low. "Are you here for her or for you?"

"Both."

He didn't look up, but he held open his arms. She fell into them, burying her face in his chest. "I'm sorry."

"So your ringer was off and you didn't get my messages?" he asked.

"Seven-year-olds are tricky creatures. Who knows what else she did."

"She's angry."

Adriana looked up at him. "You'll make her feel better."

"I can't fix your relationship with Nina. It's between the both of you."

"I know, but you make her happy." She touched his cheek. "Now what happened to your face?"

"Drake found it offensive and tried to rearrange it."

She hit him playfully in the chest. "The truth."

He winced.

She frowned. "He hit you in the chest too?"

"He hit me everywhere. Don't worry, I lived by the motto it is better to give than to receive."

"What happened?"

"We had a disagreement."

"About what?"

His eyes swept her face. "Doesn't matter anymore."

Eric sighed as his lips brushed her forehead. The scent of her shampoo came to him in a tantalizing aroma of strawberries. This was becoming a bad habit. He liked holding her and there was nothing sexual about it. That wasn't like him. It came from more than a primitive need. It was like a homecoming, a sense of safety, of belonging to someone. It was dangerous territory, but he couldn't resist the allure, the precipice that promised either success or failure.

Adriana rested her cheek against his chest. Safe, solid, secure. Those weren't the words she would have used to describe the men in her life, but Eric was all three. Words she used to scoff at, words she felt were confining and provincial were now like nuggets of gold. But it was still just an affair and whatever feelings she had were her secrets to keep.

"Nina really cares about you," she said, masking her own feelings with those of her daughter. "I bet she can't wait to see you. Why don't you pick her up tomorrow at the bus stop?"

"Shouldn't I wait until the bruises go?"

She rubbed her chin and studied him. "How do you feel about makeup?"

* * *

He saw her first—wrapped in her winter coat and gloves as if she were trekking across Alaska, her face a mask of composure as she stepped from the bus. She looked up and saw him. Her face lit up with such joy his heart lurched. He wanted to attribute it to his cold, but knew that wasn't the case. He had missed her. She ran up to him, then skidded to a stop, not sure whether to hug him or shake his hand. He lifted her up in his arms. "How are you doing?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. "I'm so glad you're back." She pulled away and stared at him. "Did you get my picture?"

He set her down and took her hand. "Yes, I put it in my office."

This pleased her. She began to skip beside him.

"Why didn't you let your mother in the secret garden too?"

"She's different than us." She looked up at him, curious. "You know that."

"Different doesn't mean bad."

She shrugged, unconcerned. "I know." She suddenly clapped her hands. "Now that you're here we can finish
The Secret Garden!
" She raced ahead of him into the building.

* * *

He tried to read, but could only manage ten minutes before a fit of coughing interrupted the story flow. He ignored Adriana's worried look as he closed the book and suggested something else to do. Nina was too happy to care. They started the herb garden in the kitchen. Eric helped her pronounce the different names and together they drew pictures of what the herbs would look like grown. Then they set the little greenhouse on the windowsill.

Later, Nina showed him her school projects and the pumpkin—a small one the size of a grapefruit—she'd picked out on the school trip to a pumpkin patch in Maryland. He lifted it up and glanced at Adriana hanging near the window. She had been keeping a distance since he had arrived.

"I think your little pumpkin needs a mother," he said. "Let's all go out and buy a big pumpkin that we can carve. Your mother could cook the seeds or make a pie."

Adriana looked horrified; Nina didn't notice. "That sounds like fun." They made a date for the weekend.

"I don't know how to cook pumpkin seeds," Adriana said in a low whisper once Nina had left the room. "I don't know how to cook a pie either. And I've never carved a pumpkin."

He looked at her, amazed. "Never?"

"No, my brothers always did it."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Then I'll let you take all the guts out."

* * *

Nina made her way through the pumpkin patch with a childish enthusiasm that was catching. Big, bright, orange pumpkins lay about like sleeping chariots waiting for the fairy godmother's wand. Tall trees changing colors sighed in the warm day against a gentle breeze.

Eric nudged Adriana forward. "Why don't you go help her pick one?"

She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "I don't think so."

"Try." He coughed.

"You should be wearing a scarf."

"A cough elixir?"

"Don't be facety. That cough should have gone by now. You probably picked it up when you visited Nina."

"Relax. When I cough up a kidney, I'll see a physician."

She rolled her eyes. "Men."

"Women," he countered. "You'd rather scold me than talk to your daughter."

"I didn't make that choice. She won't talk to me."

"How old are you? Six?"

Adriana glared at him, then sighed. "Point taken."

"Good." Eric turned. "I'm going to ask this guy about his squashes."

She approached her daughter with trepidation. She forced a smile. "This is fun, isn't it?"

Nina nodded.

She pointed to a pumpkin. "I think that would make a great witch."

Nina looked confused. "What?"

"Don't you look at the pumpkins and pretend to see what faces they have?"

"No, I just make sure they're round."

"They're round but they have personalities too." Adriana walked up to one. "Like this one is sad. See how its stem is drooping?" She glanced at another. "And this one is sneering. It's more like an oval than a circle."

Nina giggled. "That's silly," she said, but was eager to play along. They searched the patch looking for a pumpkin with the perfect expression. They both stopped at one with a lot of personality: A pumpkin with an extra little growth.

Nina wrung her hands, unsure. "Uncle Eric wanted a big one."

Adriana tilted her head to the side, measuring it. "It's sort of big."

Eric came up to them. He saw what they were considering and groaned. "Oh no."

"It's cute," Adriana said.

"It's deformed."

Nina nodded. "Just like Quasimodo." Adriana stared at her, then realized she meant the cartoon, not the novel. "He's got his own hunchback and everything," she continued.

Eric picked it up. "Since you two have already made your decision, I'll keep my thoughts to myself. Come on. Let's give it a face."

* * *

"It's a shame there's no lightning," Eric said as they all stood in the kitchen. The pumpkins sat on newspapers on the table and they stood around it.

Nina looked at him, puzzled. "Why?"

"Because," he replied in a deep, slow voice, "there's nothing like bringing a pumpkin to life while there's a storm. The sound of a cold, harsh wind beating against the window, lightning slashing through the sky, tearing through the darkness as you raise your knife and sink it into the tough flesh." He stabbed the pumpkin. Adriana and Nina jumped. He grinned and pulled out the knife. "Oh well." He handed it to Adriana.

She took a step back. "I said I'll take the insides out. I'm not cutting it."

"Fine." He quickly cut the top and placed it aside. "There you are." He gestured to the seeds and stringy membrane. "Do you have your tools?"

Adriana held up a large spoon, Nina an ice cream scoop.

"Then begin."

Adriana tried to maintain a cool expression as she sank her hand inside the pumpkin, her knuckles brushing against the slimy side. Nina kneeled on a chair and scooped out the smaller pumpkin.

Once all the guts were out, Eric checked to make sure they'd scraped the bottoms flat so the candles would sit level. Then they debated on the faces. They finally agreed on one smiling and one scary face. Adriana used a crayon to draw a scary face, Nina a happy one. Eric carved them. Later, he carefully pushed out the pieces, displaying the final product. He then coated the cut surfaces with Vaseline to seal in the pumpkin's internal moisture and help slow down the dehydration process. Nina and Adriana placed the candles inside and headed to the balcony.