“Bruce is … Bruce,” she murmured.
“Oblivious, right?”
Rachel nodded, making a wry face to hide her unhappiness. The pregnancy was playing havoc with her emotions. In the past, she’d never dissolved easily into tears but they sprang to her eyes now. She fought to hold them back, blinking furiously. “He’s got a one-track mind,” she whispered, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.
“And that one track leads directly to the bedroom.”
Rachel nodded again.
“The fact that he wants to go to bed at eight o’clock every night infuriates Jolene, too. The girl isn’t stupid. She knows why her father’s suddenly so tired.” Rachel had tried to explain to him that his sexual appetite wasn’t helping the situation between her and Jolene, but Bruce said his love life was none of his daughter’s business. He was right; nevertheless, it made Rachel’s relationship with Jolene even more difficult.
Rachel loved the way her husband desired her. The hours they spent locked in their bedroom were the only peaceful times she had. Whenever they made love she had the urge to tell him about the baby … but she hadn’t. She simply couldn’t. And she hadn’t told him he could dispense with using protection. Even Bruce might’ve been able to figure that one out.
It didn’t help, either, that Jolene was often still up, slamming things around, making sure they knew that she knew what they were doing. And Bruce himself often went right to sleep afterward. So … she hadn’t found a natural opportunity to tell him.
Rachel tentatively chose a sliver of cheese from the platter Teri had set on the table. “I dread going home at the end of the day,” she said.
“That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t, and I feel helpless to change anything. I don’t know what to do, Teri.”
“Well, you could try family counseling.” Her friend pulled up her knees, resting her feet on the edge of the sofa. “Or … do you want Bobby to talk to Bruce?” she asked.
Rachel was grateful Teri had offered, but she couldn’t see how it would improve matters. “Thanks, but no.”
Teri actually looked relieved. “I can’t imagine that Bobby would know what to say, anyway,” she confessed. “I adore that man, but this is not the sort of thing he’s comfortable with. Did I tell you he was away for a few days? The boys and I missed him like crazy.”
“Bobby was away? Where?”
Teri took a sip of her tea. “Bobby and James went to L.A. They had some business they needed to attend to—I don’t know the details.” She frowned as she said it.
“Nothing’s wrong, is there?”
“No, no,” Teri was quick to assure her. “Not with Bobby. It’s my sister again. Christie and James have had another falling-out. James can be as stubborn as my little sister. I don’t think they’re speaking.”
“Oh, no.” Hearing that saddened Rachel. Everything had been going so well between them.
“I’m sure they’ll work it out,” Teri said. “James loves her and my sister feels the same way about him. My guess is that this will blow over in a few days.”
“I hope so. The next time I talk to you, I want to hear that they’ve set a wedding date.”
Rachel finished her tea and left soon afterward, driving straight to Yakima Street. She hadn’t come up with any solutions but felt better for having discussed the problem with her best friend.
When she finally got home, Bruce was already there. She pulled her car into the garage beside his and grabbed her dry cleaning from the backseat. Bruce had the garage door open before she’d even reached the house.
“You’re late,” he said in aggrieved tones.
“I went to see Teri.”
“You didn’t let Jolene know where you were. She was worried.” The accusation in his voice stung, although Rachel didn’t believe for a minute that her stepdaughter was worried.
Jolene stood behind her father, looking far too pleased with herself. “You told me I have to let you know if I’m going to be home late,” she said smugly.
“Well, yes, but I’m the adult here. I don’t report to you.” Perhaps that was too blunt, but she couldn’t restrain herself. Rachel was barely inside the house and the attacks had already begun. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll call the next time I’m going to be late.”
“I have to abide by the rules, but you don’t?” Jolene said as Rachel stepped past her and into the kitchen.
Rachel ignored the comment, hung her dry cleaning in the hall closet and then walked back to the kitchen, past both Jolene and Bruce. “I’ll start dinner now.”
“What are we having?” Jolene asked, following her.
Rachel had put ground chicken in the refrigerator to thaw. “What would you like?”
The girl shrugged. “Nothing you cook,” she said under her breath.
Rachel pretended not to hear. “Bruce, do you have any preference for dinner?”
“How about tacos?” he called out from the living room, where he sat at the computer desk he’d placed in one corner. He was, as usual, unconscious of the tension between Rachel and Jolene.
“Sounds good to me,” Rachel said, not looking at Jolene as she brought the thawed chicken out of the refrigerator.
“I hate tacos,” her stepdaughter said.
“Since when?”
“Since you started cooking them. My dad used to make them better. We made tacos together and had a lot of fun.”
In other words, Rachel’s advent into their lives had ruined everything.
“I’d love your help,” Rachel said, striving to speak pleasantly and disregard Jolene’s insults. “If you showed me how, then maybe I could make them the way you like them.”
“Not a chance,” Jolene said, and disappeared down the hallway to her bedroom.
Trying to salvage the evening, Rachel went to work; she seasoned the chicken with taco seasoning, grated the cheese, diced fresh tomatoes and shredded lettuce. Then she put the meal on the table, which, to her pleasure, Bruce had set without being reminded. He summoned Jolene and the three of them sat down.
“How was school?” Bruce asked his daughter.
“Great. I got an A on my history test.”
“Congratulations,” Rachel said.
Jolene glanced away as if to discount any praise from Rachel. “Misty asked me to spend the night on Friday. I can, can’t I, Dad?”
Bruce looked at Rachel. “I don’t have any objection if you don’t.”
“I thought Misty’s parents worked swing shift.”
“So?” he asked.
“So, who else will be there until her parents get home?”
“No one,” Jolene said irritably. “Her parents let her take care of herself. We’re not babies, you know.”
“Jolene’s spent the night at Misty’s before,” Bruce added, siding with his daughter.
“But that was a Saturday and her parents were home,” Rachel pointed out.
“Oh, right.”
“Why don’t you have Misty spend the night at our place?” Rachel suggested.
Jolene glared across the table at her. “Not