Husband for Hire by Susan Wiggs Page A

kitchen, Shep right behind him, toenails clattering on the scratched wood floor. Twyla had brought him home from school early today, so that she could say goodbye. “Rob’s here!” Brian left the house at a run, pausing at the top of the porch steps to leap over them, landing on the battered earth with full symphonic sound.
    “Someone’s glad to see him, at least,” Gwen pointed out.
    Brian bounced like a rubber ball, peppering Rob with questions as he led him up to the house. Twyla was, for a moment, entirely captivated by the picture of her small son walking beside a tall man, Brian’s worshipful face turned up and Rob’s dark head bent low as he listened intently to whatever the boy was saying.
    Don’t do this, she warned herself. Don’t start thinking…But she was already thinking it. Already thinking that no matter how much she loved Brian, no matter how hard she worked to raise him, no matter what she taught him, there was one thing she had never given him—a father. And no matter how many times she’d tried to convince herself Brian was fine without one, she couldn’t help thinking that it was important.
    Her own childhood was filled with memories of her father. There were certain things a mother couldn’t give a child—the bristly feel of a cheek rough with five-o’clock shadow. The belly-deep laughter set off by tasteless jokes that made a mother roll her eyes. The way to punch a baseball mitt down into the palm of your hand. The illicit joy of sneaking downstairs at midnight to eat sandwiches made with peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. The big-shouldered protector who appeared in the doorway to ward off a nightmare.
    Many boys had grown up with less, she told herself. Rob Carter was a perfect example. Raised at Lost Springs, he had been deprived of both parents—and look how he turned out.
    Just look.
    “Hi.” She could barely choke out a greeting when he came into the house. The prospect of throwing up was becoming progressively more real.
    He gave her a dazzling prime-time TV smile. “All set for the big event?”
    “As set as I’m ever going to be, I suppose.” She knew it was too late to chicken out, but Lord, she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.
    He picked up her overnight bag and zippered garment bag. “Is this everything?”
    “Yes.” She clutched her purse in front of her like a shield, and went down on one knee in front of Brian. “Be good, sport. You do everything your grandma tells you, all right?” She looked deep into her son’s face, dreading his reaction. What if he got hysterical over the prospect of her leaving for the weekend?
    Then again, what if he didn’t?
    He didn’t. He gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and said, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Rob.”
    Gwen beamed like a chaperone on prom night. “Don’t give us a thought. The Wizard of Oz is on TV tonight, and we’re making Yellow Dinner for supper.”
    “Yellow dinner?” Rob asked.
    “A family tradition,” Twyla said, a little embarrassed.
    “Everything yellow,” Brian explained. “Corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets—”
    “Hey, that’s almost worth staying for,” Rob said.
    Gwen laughed. “Don’t tease. Just have a Midori on the airplane. You know, that yellow melon liqueur.”
    “Mom, I don’t think this airplane is going to have Midori on board.”
    “Oh, heavens, I forgot the camera. Don’t move—I want a picture of you two flying off on your big adventure.”
    Twyla stood up with a shudder. The last time—the only time—she had been in a plane, it had been with her father.
    And they hadn’t been drinking Midori.
     

    “I’ VE GOT A LINE on a new crop-dusting formula,” her father had shouted over the clatter of the Stearman’s radial engine. “As soon as I close this deal to be the exclusive agent in the state, your mom and I’ll be on easy street.”
    She had felt a momentary thrill for him, thinking that perhaps this time his luck would hold. It was