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“I could have to fight Janey for the honor,” she said. “And I don’t know. That’s why I haven’t done it yet. I should want carpet, because it’s warmer and not as loud, but I don’t like carpet.”
“We could do cork,” he said. “Warm and quiet and not bad to clean, and dead easy to put down, since you’ve already got a plywood surface there. Good for an attic, I’d say. Of course, Troy couldn’t ride a skateboard on it, but—”
“OK,” she said. “As long as I get to pay for it,andthe drywall and paint. Maybe you can show me some examples. Or, wait. I can just Google it, and maybe go to the flooring store and ask the—”
“Or I can show you some examples,” he said. “And, yeah, Janey’s going to have some issues, because here we are, in this house together, and I’m not much chop at hiding. I don’t know what to do about that. Here’s where I could useyourhelp.”
She said, “You’re not just saying that to make me OK with you wanting me to act weak?”
“That’s what you thought I said? Reckon we’d better go back to communicating by sex. That seems to work better. No, I want to know.”
“I think,” she said slowly, bending all her considerable candlepower to the task, “that you keep doing what you’re doing. Talking to her. Letting her express herself. You did really well at that today. Since I eavesdropped, I may as well tell you so.”
“Yeah?” He put an arm around her now. Seemed better. Besides, it was bloody cold in here.
“You really did,” she said. “Excellent openness. Kids whose parents talk to them like that rarely end up in court.”
“Good to know.” Geez, she made him smile. “So we stop sneaking around, and I get to sleep with you?”
“Well, no,” she said, and he sighed. “We don’t rub her nose in it. We give her a chance to get used to the idea, and to see that she still gets to have a special bond with you. That’s what she cares about. It’s not me. It’s you. Oh, and I have an idea for a babysitter. That will help, too. She really seems bothered by Mrs.—”
“Hobarts. No surprises there. She’s about as un-Aussie a lady as you’ll ever meet. Stick up her bum, my dad would say.”
“So it’s all right for me to use my efficiency and directness and so forth to help you solve this problem?”
“I told you,” he said, “I love your efficiency and directness. Solve all the problems you like.”
37
NOT THE BRIDE OF CHRIST
Normally, when you had that kind of emotional talk with a woman, you ended up in bed. Instead, Beckett’s day consisted of the following:
First, raking more leaves than he’d realized existed—Queensland didn’t have the kinds of leaves that fell off trees, and he’d never known his good fortune—and bagging them.AfterQuinn had called both kids out to jump into the pile and scatter them again.
Janey said, “What? Why would I want to do that?”
Troy asked, “Is it, like, a game?” in an extremely doubtful tone, as if this were some trick. Beckett couldn’t blame him. Jumping into a pile of leaves didn’t seem much like an adrenaline sport.
Quinn, of course, said, “It’s the best part of leaf-raking. Watch!” After which she sprinted for the enormous pile with no holding back and leapt straight into it, landing on her back and laughing. Bacon, naturally, ran right along with her, then burrowed into the pile, scattering leaves around him with wild abandon. The leaves they’d just spent an hour raking up.
Quinn jumped up, brushed leaves from her jeans—Beckett had to help pick them out of her hair—and said, “It’s like jumping into a huge pile of feathers. Except that it smells like fall.”
Janey said, “But they’re wet!” and Quinn said, “Well, if you want to get picky about it.”
Troy didn’t object again. He leapt in himself and rolled around in there, with Bacon barking and running in circles around him. Eventually, Beckett found himself saying, “What the hell,” and jumping himself. Very immersive experience. American autumn, he guessed.
Janey said, “You’re all mad,” and Beckett said, “Bring over the rubbish bags, then, if you’re above all this.”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “I guess I’ll try it,” then betrayed herself by shrieking as she landed in the pile. Andthenthey bagged up the leaves, and Beckett and Janey headed up to the attic to finish that third coat of mud while Quinn and Troy made lasagna, beef stew, homemade applesauce, and something called gingerbread, which was presumably bread with ginger in. Sounded more than odd, but he reminded himself to pretend he enjoyed it. Not too much, though, or she’d think it was his favorite and make it again.
It all felt good, and it shouldn’t have. You didn’t have relationships like this when you had kids. Or not until youhadkids. Together. How did he know that? Because Quinn had informed him of it today.
“I asked Roxanne,” she’d said, shoving more leaves into the bag, once Janey and Troy had gone inside again. “Since she has three kids. I’ve never been a single mom, as you know, but I’ve known lots of single moms. Probably having you move in wasn’t the best. Itfeltlike the right idea, but I didn’t think it through.”
“Or maybe it felt like the right idea because it was,” he said. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, obviously,” she said, “if it goes south.”
