Stand-In Mum. Marie Ferrarella

thick logs nestled in the dark brick hearth worked its way into the stillness of the room.

      Holding the black mug of even blacker coffee between his hands, Ike sat back on the brandy-colored leather sofa, quietly regarding the woman who sat on the opposite end. She looked like an arrow poised to be released at any moment.

      He wondered if he made her nervous. He was going to work on that. The prospect made him smile.

      “You know who you remind me of?”

      His deep voice, wedging into what had been a long silence, startled her. Marta took a breath, bracing herself. Oh, boy, here it came, the line he undoubtedly prized above all others. He was probably going to compare her to some bright, nubile young super-model currently reigning on the covers of fashion magazines, thinking that would make her pliant and receptive to his every suggestion.

      Prepare to be disappointed, LeBlanc.

      She turned haughty green eyes in his direction, confident she had his number. More confident that she wouldn’t be dialing it. “Who?”

      He smiled over the rim of his mug before taking a sip. “My sister, Juneau.”

      Marta stared at him. That wouldn’t even have come close to making her list of flattering observations. Men who wanted to get a woman into their beds didn’t make those kinds of comparisons. Just where did this backwater Lothario think he was going with this?

      Her hands tightened around the mug of coffee she wasn’t drinking. They were lingering over deep, robust coffee whose very aroma was guaranteed to keep a person awake throughout the six month night. Sitting before a roaring fire, for the moment they were alone. Shayne was in the tiny room that served as his study, talking to a distraught mother on the phone. Sydney had gone upstairs to tuck the children in, hopefully for the last time. They’d already come down twice, far more eager to share adult conversation than to put their heads down for the night on a pillow.

      She didn’t want to be alone with him.

      Marta’d felt Ike’s eyes skimming along her profile these last few minutes and had been bracing herself for the mother of all come-ons.

      Comparing her to his sister wasn’t exactly what she would have labeled as a come-on. Her eyes narrowed. “Do I look like her?”

      Ike laughed softly under his breath. His sister had long, straight black hair the color of midnight, not short, riotous locks that rivaled the flames in the fireplace. Taking after their mother’s side of the family, Junie’s skin was a hint darker than his, and her eyes were almost black.

      “God, no. Junie’s almost as tall as I am and as thin as a whaler’s harpoon. At least she was,” he amended more soberly, “the last time I saw her.”

      It’d been three years since June had taken off. Three years since he’d found the note on the bar saying that she was finally getting out of this deep-freeze. It had come on the heels of an argument, and ended with a warning: Please don’t come looking for me, just be happy for me.

      As if he could be happy, not knowing where she was. Unbeknownst to her, he’d tracked her down. But she’d seemed happy, so he had done the only thing he could. He had honored her wishes and blamed himself for not having made it easier for her to leave. But she’d been so young when she’d voiced her displeasure, and he’d thought it was just a phase. Hindsight showed him that he’d been selfish, but when he’d attempted to tell her so in a letter a year ago, it had been returned Addressee Unknown. She’d moved on.

      He prayed she was happy.

      His eyes washed over Marta before he continued. “While you’re a little bit of a thing with a nice share of curves.”

      Marta pressed her lips together, ready to fend off what more was coming in the wake of those words. He’d just made a slow start with the comparison, that’s all. But he was coming to the snow job now.

      With her back against the arm of the sofa, she regarded him coolly. “If we’re so different, why do I remind you of your sister?”

      “It’s that look in your eyes when we talk about Hades.” He paused, taking another sip. Taking his time. There was no reason to hurry. Life had a completely different pace here than in the other states. Here the steps were unhurried, well-placed. “Junie had the same look in her eyes. She was restless here, dying to get out.”

      Marta could understand why. She still couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that Sydney appeared to be happy living out here. “And I take it she got out.”

      “Yes.” Ike looked into his mug, watching the firelight shimmer along the inky surface. “She did.”

      Was he going to tell her now that he missed his sister? Missed female companionship? Marta grew tense, waiting for the shoe to drop. “Where did she go?”

      He shrugged, draining his cup and setting it down on the coffee table. He didn’t feel like going into details, into defending actions he now felt were indefensible. When the letter had been returned, he’d tried to find her and had discovered she’d purposely hidden her trail. That had hurt.

      “Beats me.”

      Her eyes narrowed to emerald pinpoints. “You don’t know?”

      Ike heard the accusation in her voice, the emotion, and wondered what was behind it. Sitting back, he crossed one booted foot over his thigh. He gave her the short, public version. “She didn’t want me to know. Junie ran off with her boyfriend. A guy who thought he was going to take the music world by storm, strumming his guitar and singing songs nobody understood.”

      The laugh was short, without his customary humor behind it. Roy Watkins, son of an oil man who had just been passing through, was one of the few human beings he’d ever encountered that he hadn’t liked, even a little. How much of that was justified and how much was because he was Junie’s big brother? He couldn’t honestly say.

      “But Junie thought the world began and ended in his shadow, so that’s where she wanted to be.” He looked into the fire, remembering. Blocking the anger the memory stirred. “Roy’s shadow was going out of here, and that was just fine with her. Ever since she’d been a little girl, all she ever talked about was getting on the other side of the northern lights.” Ike turned his eyes toward Marta. “One day, they both just took off together.”

      “There are ways to find people.”

      Ike inclined his head, acknowledging her point but adding one of his own. “If they want to be found.”

      That shouldn’t have anything to do with it, Marta thought in disgust. Juneau was his sister, he was supposed to maintain ties—not write her off as if she hadn’t existed. Or be glad she was gone because she’d been too much trouble.

      Like Marta had been for the mother who had so cavalierly given her up because the child got in the way of having a good time. Marta banked down the thought and the faded memory it aroused.

      Don’t leave me, Mama. Don’t leave me here.

      But the door had slammed anyway, and the social worker had led her away. She’d been five at the time. Five years old when she’d become part of The System.

      Marta’s eyes looked pointedly into his. “Even if they don’t.”

      There was something going on there behind her eyes, Ike thought. Something that bore exploring. But not quite yet. First, he had to gain her confidence. “People are entitled to privacy if they want it. I figured Junie wanted it. If she hadn’t, she would have gotten in contact with me.” Not tried to remain hidden, he added silently.

      “That’s kind of a lazy approach, isn’t it?”

      Well, she didn’t pull her punches, he’d give her that. There was something to be admired about a woman who was so honest. Holding his hand out, palm up, he suddenly closed his fingers as if he was grasping something. “You hold onto a bird too tight, you kill it.” And above all, he wanted June to feel free and happy.

      Marta