Kids Is A 4-Letter Word by Stephanie Bond Page A

old coastal town. Thousands of women would trade places with her in the blink of an eye. She was a very lucky woman.
    It was sort of the truth.
    “B UT M OM WANTED a red kitchen with strawberries,” Claire whined, her voice and chin trembling.
    John sighed and nodded. He lowered himself to sit on her narrow bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to draw her close. “I know she did, sweetheart, but Mom’s not here anymore, and I don’t think it would be such a good idea.”
    Claire stared at her hands. “Would it make you sad?”
    “Probably,” he admitted.
    “Her furniture and paintings made you sad, didn’t they?”
    His chest squeezed. Either he’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve, or his nine-year-old was more perceptive than he’d imagined. “Yes, sweetie, they did make me sad.”
    “Do you want to forget her?” Claire whispered, her voice barely audible.
    John’s throat clogged with emotion, but he swallowed heavily. His and Annie’s personal relationship had had its pitfalls, but she was an impeccable mother, and he’d loved her. “I could never forget her.”
    She placed her small hand in his. “I don’t want to, either, but sometimes I can’t remember her face and that scares me.”
    He tipped her chin up and kissed her on the nose. “All you have to do is look in the mirror, sweetie, because you look just like her.”
    At last, a tiny smile appeared. “Mommy was pretty,’ wasn’t she, Daddy?”
    “Very pretty.”
    “Do you think I’m pretty?”
    He pulled her into his lap and tickled her. “I think you’re Miss America.”
    She giggled. “You’re funny, Daddy.”
    “Claire,” he said gently, studying her fair face, “wouldn’t you like to have a new mother someday?” She stiffened, her eyes wide, and John held his breath.
    “Who?” she asked, a slight note of accusation in her voice.
    “No one,” he said quickly, keeping his tone light. “I mean, no one yet. But I need to know how you feel about having another woman in the house, just in case.”
    Her green eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Jo already has a boyfriend—she told me today they’re gonna get married.”
    The air left his lungs as if he’d been kicked. Was Jo that seriously involved? “I wasn’t talking about Jo,” he insisted.
    “Then why did you almost kiss her?” Claire asked, struggling to get up.
    John let her go. “I didn’t kiss her.”
    “You would’ve if Jamie hadn’t butted in,” she said, and pouted, arms crossed.
    “Maybe,” John admitted. “But I didn’t know she had aserious boyfriend, and now I do.” He leaned toward her, softening. “Don’t you like Jo, Claire? I know she likes you.”
    She mulled over his question, hugging herself and working her mouth. “I guess she’s okay. She said she’d give me her Nancy Drew books for helping her with decorating the house.”
    He felt a little relieved. “That’s great. How about let’s go downstairs and watch television with the boys? That is—” he grinned at her “—if they haven’t killed each other by now.”
    She grinned, too, and took his hand as they left the room.
    “Dad!” Jamie yelled from the bar as they walked into the den. “Billy drank two whole cups of cola!”
    John nearly staggered with the knowledge of the effect the caffeine and sugar would have on his already active toddler. He’d be bouncing off the walls. “He’s not supposed to be drinking it this late.”
    “I know,” Jamie said in a grave tone that announced he was really gleefully waiting for John to pronounce Billy’s punishment.
    Billy looked up from his seat on the floor, his chin stained dark from the sweet drink. “I drink pop,” he said, holding up the cup for John’s inspection.
    John pressed his lips together, trying to hide his frustration. “Jamie, how did he pour soda into that little cup from that great big bottle?”
    Jamie didn’t hesitate. “He’s too little, so I had to help him.”
    “I see. Well, I’ll