Page 68 of Where It All Began
“Mr. Rogers on, daddy?” Jax asked hopefully.
“No, buddy. Not tonight.” His words were gentle, loving, even though Phoebe knew he was as close to the breaking point as she was.
At least she’d been dead right with that choice. Her husband, the love of her ridiculous life, was a constant source of joy and support and commiseration.
“Maybe we should take Rose up on her offer to take the b-o-y-s for a week?” Phoebe suggested hopefully.
John shot her a look. “What has your sister ever done to us that would deserve that?”
“I’m desperate. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m one tiny infraction away from burning this house down and walking away, talking to the voices in my head.”
The doorbell sounded, and before Phoebe could decide to just hide under the table and wish it all away, Beckett charged down the hallway to the front door.
“Hi ya, Evywa!”
“Hey, cutie. Is your Mom still alive?”
“She wooks stressed,” he said as if a four-year-old knew what stress was. “Is dat pizza?”
On the word “pizza” Carter hurdled the puddle of nasty and joined his brother at the door.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Normedann,”
Oh, hell.Phoebe was not prepared to deal with Mrs. Nordemann.
“Nordemann, sweetie,” Mrs. Nordemann corrected him.
“That’s what I said!”
They trooped back the hall, each footstep sounding to Phoebe like the arrival of a firing squad. Elvira poked her head into the room and shook her head. “Bet you’re never going to question my life choices again,” she teased Phoebe.
Phoebe burst into tears.
Mrs. Nordemann hopped neatly over the vomit and mud and towels and patted Phoebe on the back. “There, there, my dear. Everything is going to be just fine. This is nothing we can’t handle.”
“We?” Phoebe wailed.
“We’re all family. No one can do this,” she gave the chaos a sweeping glance, “alone.”
“First thing’s first. Boys, pizza. Oh, dear lord, what happened to your hair?” Mrs. Nordemann clapped a hand over her mouth.
“We cutted it!” Beckett announced.
“With scissors,” Carter added, eyeing up the pizza boxes.
“Well, we can’t do anything about that right now,” Elvira sighed. “Go, upstairs and wash your hands and bring a diaper and pants down for your brother.”
Phoebe watched in teary disbelief as her boys scrambled to obey.
“What magic power do you have?”
“It’s called Peace of Pizza,” Elvira said, wiggling the box. “In my experience, men do anything for food.”
“Peesa, daddy! Peesa!” Jax squealed.
“Jesus, kid, didn’t you just puke up a week’s worth of pie?” John asked, plucking his son out of the sink.
“I’ve got him,” Mrs. Nordemann announced, plucking the wet and wiggly toddler out of John’s hands and wrapping him in the only clean dish towel left in the house.
