Make-Believe Mom

Instant Mom—just add a fiancé and seven kids!

       Jon studied Kaycee with eyes as deep blue as the Montana sky.  His dark good looks overshadowed his somber, drawn expression.  As tall as she was at five foot ten, she still had to look up to meet his gaze.
        “You did a good job.” he said.  “I’m impressed.”
        “Thank you.  I’m glad I could help.”  Warmth spread through Kaycee’s midsection.  Why did it thrill her that this particular rancher was pleased with her work?  Before now, she’d only felt a satisfying triumph when she proved one more cowboy wrong about her.
        They reached for the pulling chains hung over the gate at the same time.  Jon’s hand accidentally closed over hers.  A frisson of electricity crackled through her body.  He tightened his grip and lifted her hand off the chains so he could pick them up. 
        “I guess we need to clean up,” he said, in a deep, low voice that resonated through her. 
        Kaycee cleared her throat and nodded.  This barn was suddenly awfully close and overly warm. 
        “Urmmmm!”
        Jon and Kaycee jerked apart at the sound of  the accusatory grumble.  A woman wearing a severely cut gray business suit glinted a hard look at them from a few feet away. No doubt they were a pretty sight covered as they were with the drying remnants of new life.
        Jon frowned at the newcomer.  “Can I help you?”
        Michele, along with another girl about her age and twin boys about five years old, darted around the woman and regrouped behind Jon.
        “I’m Nancy Hawthorn, the county social worker.  Are you Jonathan Rider?”
        “Yes,” Jon said with a hesitant nod.
        The woman approached, clutching a writing pad to her chest. Her eyes darted to the pool of blood and fluid on the floor, then to the cow and calf in the stall beyond.
        “May I speak to you alone, Mr. Rider?”
        Jon indicated for her to follow him, detouring briefly to the washroom to wash his hands and arms and roll his shirtsleeves down.  They stopped to talk in the doorway of the barn,.  Kaycee couldn’t quite make out the conversation from where she stood with the children.
        Before Kaycee could make a move to collect her things, she saw  Jon’s face suffuse with anger and he clenched his fists. 
        “Child neglect?  What in hell are you talking about?”
        Kaycee wasn’t sure what to do.  To get to her truck, she’d have to pass close enough to Jon and the social worker to eavesdrop.  Although she’d always been a bit nosy, this conversation seemed too personal for idle curiosity.  The four children, however, had no such qualms.  Little by little they inched closer to the adults.  Kaycee crossed the aisle to clean up.  She slipped out of the soiled coveralls, rolled them into a ball and tucked them into a plastic bag in one of her medical cases, then washed her hands again.  Wiping her boots clean in the thick hay, she glanced around for another way out of the barn.
        She spied a back door, but couldn’t be sure if she could get to her truck that way.  The voices at the end of the barn grew louder, more strident.  She turned, staring at the two dark figures against the bright light, so focused on each other that Kaycee doubted they would notice if she made a discreet escape around them. 
        Hoisting her cases, she edged down the aisle, stopping when she reached the tight cluster of wide-eyed children hanging on every word of the argument.
        “Mr. Rider,” Mrs. Hawthorn said, holding the notepad to her chest.  “I’m here for your children’s welfare.”
        “By scaring them out of their minds?” Jon snapped.
        Kaycee wanted to tell him to calm down.  He wouldn’t do himself any good by losing his temper.
        “I have no intention of frightening them.  But, I must advise you that Montana law gives me full authority to speak to your children, without your consent and without your being present.  Now, if you’ll just answer a few questions, perhaps we can resolve this quickly.”
        Jon’s jaw muscle ticked.  He took a couple of breaths before he spoke again.  “I’m sorry.  You took me by surprise.  Who made this accusation?”
        “By state law, I can’t reveal that information.”
        “Wait a minute,” Jon’s voice grew harsh again. ”You can come into my house, harass my children, interrogate me, because of somebody’s unsubstantiated accusation?  And you won’t tell me who made it?”   
         “Can’t, Mr. Rider.  I am not allowed to give you that information.”
         “I don’t believe this.” Jon raked a hand through his already disheveled hair.  “How am I supposedly neglecting my children?”
        Mrs. Hawthorn consulted her notes.  “According to the report I received you do not have proper supervision for your seven...?” 
        Mrs. Hawthorn cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Jon.  Kaycee’s eyebrows lifted involuntarily, too. 
        Seven?
        Jon nodded and Mrs. Hawthorn went on, “...seven children.  That the younger children may be suffering from neglect.  That there is a scarcity of food in the house, that the kids are not being fed, clothed or tended properly.”
        “That’s not true.  I have two freezers full of food in there.  Who around here would say something like--” Jon’s eyes narrowed.  “My in-laws!  That’s who it is, isn’t it?  The Arants from San Francisco.”
        “I’m sorry, I can’t--”
        “Yeah, I know, you can’t give me that information.  You don’t have to.  All right, ask your questions.”
        “Your children are Rachel aged twelve; Samantha, eleven; Wendy, nine; Michele, eight; twins Tyler and Zachary, five; and Bowie, two.  Is that correct?”
        “Yes.”
        “Your wife Alison passed away last year?”
         “Fourteen months, five days, three hours and I can give you the minutes if you need that, too,” Jon said, hiding whatever emotion he might be feeling.  Kaycee’s lips parted slightly at the startling revelation and she looked at the motherless children through new eyes. 
        Mrs. Hawthorn’s expression was a mix of sympathy and impatience as she jotted a note.  “And you make your living by ranching alone?”
        “Yes.”
        “Who supervises your children when you’re busy?”
        “I keep a full-time housekeeper.”
        “It’s my understanding she quit.”
        “What makes you think that?”
        “A report was filed, as I said.  Judging by the condition of your house and children--”
        “I’ve got seven kids, lady.  It doesn’t take long for the house to get cluttered, even with a housekeeper.”
        “So you do have a housekeeper?”
        “I just said so, didn’t I?”
        “Good, that will help matters. May I meet her?”
        “She’s not here today.”
        “Why?”
        Kaycee watched Jon fidget.  She’d bet her next year’s profit he did not have a housekeeper at the moment.  Lying to a social worker was definitely a bad idea.
        “Everybody needs a day off, Mrs. Hawthorn.  Even my housekeeper.” 
        “Your son has a fever.  I assume you know that.”
        “Yes, I know that.”
        “He’s had medical attention?”  She looked at him for confirmation.
        Jon took a deep breath.  “Children’s Tylenol© every four to six hours,” he said patiently as if quoting from the back of the medicine bottle. 
        “Why didn’t you take him to the doctor?”
       “He didn’t need to go.  It’s just a low fever.  Could be catching a cold.”
        Mrs. Hawthorn continued to stare at him expectantly.
        "Okay, okay.  If he’s not better by tomorrow I’ll take him to the doctor, all right?”   
        “As I understand, this is not the first time you’ve been without proper supervision for the young children.  Nor the first time you’ve failed to get medical attention when the children were ill.  Can you defend these accusations?”
        “Look, I don’t take my children to the doctor for every sniffle.  Neither did my wife.  And yes, I’ve had housekeepers quit.  I’ve also had ranch hands quit.  People move on.  It’s a fact of life.  Have you checked up on any other ranch families in the area.  How many of them have someone to watch their kids?  Probably none.  Rachel’s old enough--”
        “Frankly, Mr. Rider, I’m not convinced that you’re able to provide a stable environment for the children without a wife.”
        “Without a wife...?”  Jon looked bewildered.  “I can’t help it if my wife died.  I’m taking care of my kids.”
        “I don’t see evidence of that today.”
        “It’s calving season.  Life around here gets hectic.  It’s got nothing to do with wife or no wife.”
        “Nonetheless, your children should be your first priority--”
        “They are my first priority!” Jon practically shouted.  “I am taking care of them.  How dare you--”
        “Do you have an anger management problem we need to address?  I’m beginning to consider removing the children from your home until a hearing can be arranged.”
        The color drained from Jon’s face as he stared at the social worker. 
        “Like hell you will.”
        “Mr. Rider, profanity and anger won’t help.  Now, you can calm down or I’ll take measures to remove the children today.”
        Listening to the heated exchange, Kaycee was hesitant to leave until she knew what was going on.  Even though Jon’s personal matters were none of her business, she had a soft spot for kids and she wondered if a man who had doggedly brought a stillborn calf to life would neglect his own family.
        In front of Kaycee, the children looked at one another with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
        “What’s she talking about, Wendy?” Michele asked in a low voice.
        “She said we need a mother or she’s going to take us away from Daddy,” the sister said in disbelief.
        “That’s what I thought.”  Warily, Michele glanced up at Kaycee.  She leaned and whispered in Wendy’s ear. 
        Wendy shook her head fiercely, her straight blonde hair whipping back and forth.  “That won’t work,” she whispered back loud enough that Kaycee heard.
        “Well it might.  You got any better ideas?”  Michele’s eyes locked on the arguing adults as Jon grew more upset with everything Mrs. Hawthorn said.
        Kaycee didn’t know Jon other than the few hours she’d spent with him, but she felt the urge to help him--she just didn’t know how.  There was lull in the argument and Kaycee heard Wendy’s agitated voice.  Tears welled in her brown eyes as she clutched her sister’s arm.
        “You’re going to get in trouble, Michele.   I just want Mama back.”
        “Get real, Wendy,” Michele said.  “You know she’s not coming back.”
        “My children are not leaving this ranch!”  Jon’s shout echoed off the walls, the effect of his words clear on the small, pale faces and eyes dark with fear.
        Mrs. Hawthorn took a step backward and pulled a cell phone out of her briefcase.  “If I have to call the authorities and have you arrested, I will, Mr. Rider.”  Her voice left no room for doubt that she would follow through on her threat.
        “Make’em stop fighting,” sobbed one of the twin boys.  “I don’t want to go away.  Make ’em stop, Michele!”
         Michele looked boldly at Kaycee, her face determined despite the apprehension imprinted there.  She grabbed Kaycee’s hand and pulled her down to eye level. “I’m Michele.  What’s your name?”
        Startled, Kaycee replied, “Kaycee Calloway.”
        “Hurry!”  Michele dragged Kaycee until she stumbled forward--straight into the fray. 
        Jon jerked toward them in surprise.    Mrs. Hawthorn eyed her over the rim of her glasses.  Kaycee’s sudden intrusion shut them both up instantly.
        “This is her,” Michele announced firmly.  “This is our new mother.  We don’t need a housekeeper anymore.” 

From the book:  Make-Believe Mom
By Elaine Grant
Copyright© 2007
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The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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