grin.
“That’s my name, too, you know,” he declared, and settled his chin on his hand once more.
“No, I didn’t know that.” Her brown eyes widened in vague surprise. “I thought it was Toby — Tobias,” She corrected it from the shortened version.
“That’s my middle name,” Toby explained. “My real first name is Luck — like my dad’s. My mom insisted on naming me after him when I was born, but dad said it was too hard growing up with a name like that. He said I’d wind up getting called Little Luck, and he didn’t like the idea of being Big Luck. So they called me Toby instead.”
“I think that was probably best,” Eve agreed with the decision.
In her experience at the school, she’d seen how cruel children could be sometimes when one of the members had an unusual name. Sometimes they teased him unmercifully. As a rule children didn’t like being different. It wasn’t until later, when their sense of individuality surfaced, that they showed a desire for unique names.
Yet she couldn’t help remembering when she had first been introduced to the father and son, and Luck had explained the family tradition of his name. At the time she had wondered if there was a “little” Luck at home to carry it on. It was slightly amusing to discover it had been Toby all along.
After the dishes were done, she and Toby went into the front room and watched television for a while. At nine o’clock she suggested that it was time he took a bath and got ready for bed. He didn’t argue or try to persuade her to let him stay up until Luck came home.
Spanking clean from his bath, Toby trotted barefoot into the living room in his pajamas. He half flopped himself across the armrest of the chair where Eve was sitting.
“Are you going to tuck me into bed?” he asked.
“I sure am.” Eve smiled at the irresistible appeal of his look. Toby was just as capable of twisting her around his finger as his roguish father was.
Toby led the way to his room while Eve followed. He made a running leap at the bed, dived under the covers and was settled comfortably by the time Eve arrived at his bedside. A white pillowcase framed the mass of dark brown hair as a pair of bright blue eyes looked back at her.
She made a show of tucking the covers close to his sides while he kept his arms on top of them. Then she sat sideways on the edge of the mattress.
“You don’t have to read me a story or anything,” Toby said. “I’m too old for that.”
“Okay. Would you like me to leave the light on for a while?” Eve asked, referring to the small lamp burning on the bedside table. She already suspected he was “too old” for that, too.
“No.” There was a negative movement of his head against the pillow.
Her glance had already been drawn to the night table, where it was caught by the framed photograph of a beautiful blond-haired woman with sparkling green eyes. A vague pain splintered through Eve as she guessed the identity of the smiling face in the photograph.
“Is this a picture of your mother?” she asked Toby for confirmation, her throat hurting.
“Yes. Her name was Lisa.” Toby blithely passed on the information.
“She’s very beautiful,” Eve admitted, aware that Luck would never have called this woman a “brown mouse.” She was golden — all sunshine and springtime. Eve despised herself for the jealousy that was twisting inside her. But she didn’t have a prayer of ever competing with someone as beautiful as this girl — not even with her memory. It was utterly hopeless to think Luck would ever love her.
“Dad has a picture just like that in his room,” Toby informed her. “He talks to it a lot…although he hasn’t lately,” he added as an afterthought.
“I’m sure he loves her very much.” She tried to smile and conceal the awful aching inside. “It’s time you were going to sleep.”
“Will you kiss me good-night?” he asked with an unblinking look.
“Of course.” There was a
“That’s my name, too, you know,” he declared, and settled his chin on his hand once more.
“No, I didn’t know that.” Her brown eyes widened in vague surprise. “I thought it was Toby — Tobias,” She corrected it from the shortened version.
“That’s my middle name,” Toby explained. “My real first name is Luck — like my dad’s. My mom insisted on naming me after him when I was born, but dad said it was too hard growing up with a name like that. He said I’d wind up getting called Little Luck, and he didn’t like the idea of being Big Luck. So they called me Toby instead.”
“I think that was probably best,” Eve agreed with the decision.
In her experience at the school, she’d seen how cruel children could be sometimes when one of the members had an unusual name. Sometimes they teased him unmercifully. As a rule children didn’t like being different. It wasn’t until later, when their sense of individuality surfaced, that they showed a desire for unique names.
Yet she couldn’t help remembering when she had first been introduced to the father and son, and Luck had explained the family tradition of his name. At the time she had wondered if there was a “little” Luck at home to carry it on. It was slightly amusing to discover it had been Toby all along.
After the dishes were done, she and Toby went into the front room and watched television for a while. At nine o’clock she suggested that it was time he took a bath and got ready for bed. He didn’t argue or try to persuade her to let him stay up until Luck came home.
Spanking clean from his bath, Toby trotted barefoot into the living room in his pajamas. He half flopped himself across the armrest of the chair where Eve was sitting.
“Are you going to tuck me into bed?” he asked.
“I sure am.” Eve smiled at the irresistible appeal of his look. Toby was just as capable of twisting her around his finger as his roguish father was.
Toby led the way to his room while Eve followed. He made a running leap at the bed, dived under the covers and was settled comfortably by the time Eve arrived at his bedside. A white pillowcase framed the mass of dark brown hair as a pair of bright blue eyes looked back at her.
She made a show of tucking the covers close to his sides while he kept his arms on top of them. Then she sat sideways on the edge of the mattress.
“You don’t have to read me a story or anything,” Toby said. “I’m too old for that.”
“Okay. Would you like me to leave the light on for a while?” Eve asked, referring to the small lamp burning on the bedside table. She already suspected he was “too old” for that, too.
“No.” There was a negative movement of his head against the pillow.
Her glance had already been drawn to the night table, where it was caught by the framed photograph of a beautiful blond-haired woman with sparkling green eyes. A vague pain splintered through Eve as she guessed the identity of the smiling face in the photograph.
“Is this a picture of your mother?” she asked Toby for confirmation, her throat hurting.
“Yes. Her name was Lisa.” Toby blithely passed on the information.
“She’s very beautiful,” Eve admitted, aware that Luck would never have called this woman a “brown mouse.” She was golden — all sunshine and springtime. Eve despised herself for the jealousy that was twisting inside her. But she didn’t have a prayer of ever competing with someone as beautiful as this girl — not even with her memory. It was utterly hopeless to think Luck would ever love her.
“Dad has a picture just like that in his room,” Toby informed her. “He talks to it a lot…although he hasn’t lately,” he added as an afterthought.
“I’m sure he loves her very much.” She tried to smile and conceal the awful aching inside. “It’s time you were going to sleep.”
“Will you kiss me good-night?” he asked with an unblinking look.
“Of course.” There was a
Similar Books
