Real Marriage Material. Jodi O'Donnell
it. “Anyway, I knew if she got to live permanently with us two bachelors that there’d come a time when she’d need a feminine influence. A girl should have a mother, y’know.”
“Of course, if it’s at all possible. But do you think the court would take Robin away from you merely for lack of such influence on her?”
“Up to a few weeks ago, I didn’t think so. Now there’s more to the situation, you see,” he went on with reluctance. “We were served with papers saying Lisa’s half sister was coming forward to intervene for custody and adoption of Robin.”
The thought of that action—and the implied impetus behind it—still had the power to upend Jeb’s better judgment and raise panic in him, which he beat back with the aid of the indignation the situation unfailingly roused in him. With superhuman effort, he made himself go on, to tell Mariah the story.
But it would not be the whole story.
“Anita Babcock,” he said flatly, “is Lisa’s half sister. Her husband—he’s an engineer, too, like Cody was, I guess—does some kind of work for an oil company that took them out of the country up until recently, but now they’re back in the States to stay, or so I’ve been told. The judge kept the adoption hearing for June, even with the Babcocks intervening.”
With sudden intensity, he jabbed a twig into the ground, almost to poke it into the heart of his dilemma. “From what the lawyer I hired tells me, as things stand right now, it could go either way. I could get Robbie—or Lisa’s half sister could. I’ve definitely got the biggest advantage, with her livin’ here with me and Wiley since Cody and Lisa died. But it’s not like they named me Robin’s guardian, which would have sealed the deal for sure. And Anita and her husband are already raisin’ a couple of kids of their own, have the ability to give her all sorts of advantages— private school, lessons in just about anything Robbie might take a fancy to, travel, exposure to all sorts of experiences. Put that kind of home life up against the one I’m providing, and what would you decide if you were a judge?”
“I see…” Mariah frowned, her gaze distant, searching.
She still clutched her black leather organizer in her arms. He wondered if she ever went anywhere without it, and couldn’t imagine being so tied to a schedule. Perhaps that was part of his problem, as she’d indirectly suggested, this reluctance to adapt to changing circumstances.
“And I gather from what you said earlier,” she continued, “about your not being interested in getting married, that there’s no one you’re even seeing whom you might eventually consider…that is, for the judge to acquire some confidence you’d ultimately…” Her voice trailed off awkwardly.
“I take your meanin’, and you’re right,” he said with a calm he didn’t entirely feel. “I’ve known some women I’ve liked real well, and it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that I’d find one some day that I’d want to settle down with, even given that my occupation doesn’t afford much opportunity for socializing. After all, you can’t tell what’s bitin’ till you test the waters. But things are different now—”
Jeb broke off. No, there was no reason Mariah Duncan needed to know this part of his predicament. No way was he going to discuss it with her, because it was the one aspect of this whole situation that had the least chance of being addressed.
Lucy, who’d left to forage in the brush on the water’s edge, came trotting back over to see if he’d found anything more interesting, and Jeb occupied himself with locating a stick to throw, as if that were the reason he’d interrupted himself.
Again, though, Mariah wasn’t buying his evasion. “How are things different now?” she asked with that sincere interest that pulled at him with tidal strength.
He chucked a short piece of driftwood into the water and watched as Lucy jumped in after it. He lifted one shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I feel it’s my duty that whoever I eventually marry should be a woman like my sister-in-law was.”
“And what was that?”
“Oh, you know—” he gestured vaguely “—a woman like yourself, brought up to be a lady, knowin’ what’s proper, who’d want to pass on such sensibilities to her daughter.”
Jeb cleared his throat. He had never intended to stray into such deeply personal territory. And yet somehow he had.
“I don’t mean to sound like Lisa couldn’t let her hair down,” he continued doggedly. “She was…genuinely nice. But it’s not like that kind of woman would come lookin’ for me.”
Oh, but he was glad for the fading light now! He’d wanted to get that out, state the obvious to let Mariah know he knew the score. But when she didn’t respond immediately and the silence stretched on, Jeb grew annoyed—with himself. Well, what did he expect? That she’d protest, say that of course women from all walks of life considered redneck fishing guides prime marriage material?
“Of course, even if a woman like that did come around, it wouldn’t be right to marry someone just for the sake of marry in’, regardless of my duty to Robin. And the truth is, I don’t find that sort of woman, on the whole, real riveting, if you get my meaning,” he put in pointedly—and not altogether truthfully.
Another lull pervaded the air between them as Mariah did not immediately respond. Jeb slapped at a mosquito, resolved he would reveal no more to her.
Finally, her voice distinctly strained, she said, “At least I can see now why you considered your uncle’s calling Saved by the Belle to be an oversimplified answer to your predicament.”
“Yeah, well. That’s Wiley,” Jeb said. So he’d made her uncomfortable with his indirect judgment of her. Welcome to the club, he thought, for he’d gotten an answer from her nonanswer. No, it didn’t seem Mariah Duncan saw any way he might proceed from here. He couldn’t help feeling aggravated, especially after she’d made such a big deal about hearing all the details. But she couldn’t help him, not with this. He was on his own, just as he had thought.
Yet he couldn’t prevent himself from feeling again the apprehensive tightening in his chest he’d experienced upon seeing his niece interact with Mariah. It was as if, even in that brief contact, there had passed between them something he could never fully understand. It struck him that Robin hadn’t always been such a tomboy, had really only become so since moving to Texoma to live with him and Wiley.
Abruptly he stood, knee joints popping. “It’s late. You’d better start back to town before you lose every scrap of daylight. I know you got here fine, but it won’t be so easy in the dark.”
Not waiting for her concurrence—or actually not wanting to answer any more of her questions—Jeb left her to follow as best she could as he led the way back up the path and to her car. He did think to wait politely while she unlocked her door, and opened it for her with as much decorum as a man could muster while dressed in an overripe T-shirt and grungy jeans.
“Thank you again for driving out here,” he told her formally.
“It was no trouble,” Mariah answered, her voice subdued, as if she were a million miles away. She probably wished to be shed of him and this place, and again he wondered why she had even bothered to find out more about his situation with Robin.
He tried not to bear Mariah Duncan ill will. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Wiley had called her here on a wildgoose chase. It wasn’t her fault, either, that their problems couldn’t be solved with one phone call.
“I hope you know my uncle’s intentions were good. And I apologize for being unsociable toward you at first. I just didn’t see, even then, that there was much you could do to help.”
“I…I understand.” Dropping her chin, she brushed the toe of her shoe through the twig-strewed dirt. “So what will you do about your situation?”
“That’s the poser, isn’t it? I’ll keep on as I am already, I think, and just hope for the best. Let