Married in Haste. Roz Fox Denny
As it was, he dodged and mostly managed to evade the wet, pink tongue.
Erin and Mollie screamed. Both girls dropped their books and took refuge in a corner of the massive entry as far as possible from the boisterous dog.
Above the racket, Abby’s voice floated down the same stairs that had so recently served as the Indy 500 for the truck with its gerbil driver. “Boys, will you hold the noise down to a dull roar? Somebody see what’s wrong with Ruffian. Please, guys, cut me some slack. If I don’t get this water valve shut off, you five will be building an ark.”
The boys on the stairs at least had the grace to nudge one another and clam up sheepishly for a minute. Then one of the two older kids spotted Ben. “Aunt Abby!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Reed let some strange guy in off the street. Do you want me and Mike to call the cops?”
Ben heard Abby yelp, followed by two loud bumps, followed by what might have been a muffled curse. By then he’d corralled the rambunctious boxer, a half-grown pup, Ben saw, seconds before a disheveled-looking Abby hove into view. She leaned over the bannister, brandishing a very large wrench. Her red hair, always hard to tame, stood in wild disarray. Her blue jeans were rolled up to her knees and showed signs of sogginess, as did the long tails of a too large man’s shirt. Dirt streaked her face, hands and arms. Even with all that she managed to look appealing to Ben.
“Ben? Noah scared me! I thought Ruffian had cornered a burglar or at the least a vagrant. I’m glad to see you, but I’m afraid I can’t talk at the moment. I’m kinda busy.” She waggled the wrench.
“So I see. The girls and I stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
Bending lower, Abby zeroed in on the pale faces of the frightened girls. “Erin, Mollie, hi! Boys, you know the McBride girls. Honestly, guys, where are your manners? Put Ruffian in the laundry room until he settles down. Invite Erin and Mollie in. Find a game everyone can play. Make it an easy one for Sam, okay?” She gazed helplessly at Ben. “If you care to supervise, Ben, I just need a minute to deal with a situation. There’s fruit punch in the fridge. Michael will show you where to get clean glasses. Or there’s coffee in the thermos by the stove if you’d rather.” She pulled back, then ducked down again to peer at Ben through the white balusters. “Better yet, I could use a man with a strong arm and a clear mind up here.”
Recovering from his shock at seeing such chaos around a woman he always found to be orderly in all things, Ben dredged up a rakish grin. “Let me settle the girls, Abby, and I’ll be right up.”
“Uncle Ben, I don’t want to stay here.” Erin sidled up to her uncle. “This house is dirty, and that dog slobbered all over me.”
“Erin McBride,” he said sternly. “Start by apologizing to Abby and the boys. While you figure out what you need to say, I’ll lend Abby a hand. Later, if you girls behave, I’ll get you some juice.”
Mollie’s face fell. “I didn’t say the house was dirty. Why can’t I have juice?”
One of the boys—Michael, Ben thought—relieved his death grip on the boxer’s collar. “I’m big enough to pour juice,” the boy declared. “Go ahead and help my aunt. I’ll take care of stuff down here.” He puffed out his thin chest.
Abby, who’d heard the exchange, called over the railing, “Wash your hands first, Mike. And while you’re at it, refill Sam’s glass. Sam? You doing okay, my man?”
A meek voice responded from the confines of the big chair. “I have to go potty. When’s the toilet gonna be fixed?”
“Oh, sweetie. The hall bathroom works. Darn, give me a minute to take off my shoes so I don’t track water downstairs. Then I’ll take you.”
“That chore I can handle like a pro,” Ben informed her. “If it’s okay with Sam, that is. Hey, guy, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dr. Ben Galloway. My father, Dr. Kirk Galloway, fixed your legs.”
Sam’s eyes grew round and he shoved thick auburn curls off a pale forehead with a freckled hand. “’Kay. You look nicer. Dr. Kirk never smiles.”
Ben lifted the boy, doing his utmost to support the right leg which was casted all the way to the boy’s hip. Sam wore a short cast on his left. Ben guessed the kid wouldn’t be walking anytime soon. He wondered why Abby didn’t have household help. The ages of the children seemed reason enough to seek assistance. To say nothing of the sheer hours involved in maintaining this household.
No wonder Abby looked as if she’d dropped twenty pounds. Ben guessed dashing up and down stairs a hundred times a day would burn a lot of calories.
“There you go, Sam.” Ben straightened after maneuvering them both into the small half bathroom. He glanced up, feeling a drop of water strike his ear. He identified a water stain on the ceiling, which seemed to grow larger as he studied it.
Jeez, Abby probably didn’t know her problems weren’t limited to the upstairs. The flooded commode must be directly above this one. “Hey there, Sam, let’s not dally. I’d just as soon neither of us had to be treated for ceiling plaster falling on our heads.”
The child’s lips quivered. “I wish Daddy was here. Will that phone in your pocket call everywhere?”
“Pretty much,” Ben murmured, still focusing his attention on the damaged ceiling tiles while he helped Sam tie his robe. “Do you have a friend you’d like to call? If you tell me where I can find his number, I’ll dial for you.”
Donning a serious expression, the boy waited patiently while Ben washed and dried his hands. “I don’t got the number for heaven. Maybe it’s in my daddy’s ’puter. Mommy said Daddy put everybody’s number from church on his ’puter. And Daddy said God’s the most important member of his church. So I think God’s number hasta be there.”
“Oh. Oh, Sammy…” Ben patted the sad-eyed child’s back as he carried him to his recliner. “I wish making contact with the Almighty were so simple. But…he’s everywhere, you know, watching over us. Like…maybe the reason I picked today to visit your aunt is that I’m supposed to help her.” Ben gave the four-year-old a coloring book and opened it to a picture of a partially colored ark. “Ah…I believe your aunt was saying you guys might need one of these,” he teased.
He needed to get out of the room before Sam asked more questions. Ben figured he was the last person able to explain why any supreme being let kids lose their moms and dads. He left the room no wiser than before.
Upstairs, he put his foot into two inches of water on the bathroom floor.
Abby was draped over a gurgling commode, mumbling at a pipe wrench that kept slipping off a valve cap. Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Ben relieved Abby of the wrench. He threw his considerable muscle into budging the solidly stuck shut-off cap.
“I think it gave a little,” Abby said. “Ben, I’m sorry you walked into this mess. Oh, there…you got it. Oh, no! The valve twisted off.” A gusher shot everywhere. “Ben, make it stop!”
Leaping aside, he swore roundly.
“Shh.” Abby clapped a hand over his mouth. “We don’t use language like that in this house.”
“Apparently you don’t ask for help in this house, either. Why are you just standing there watching Old Faithful? Get me a damn phone book.”
“What for?”
“Something you should’ve done at first splat. To call a plumber.” So saying, Ben whipped out the phone Sam thought he could use to call heaven. Directory assistance was close enough to heaven’s hotline to suit Ben. As he was connected to a local plumber and gave the man terse directions to the house, Ben wrapped a white towel around the broken pipe to stem the geyser.
“My best Egyptian cotton towel. Ben, what are you thinking?”
“Something else I should’ve done when I first walked in,” he growled, closing off her sputtering tirade with a kiss that