Mr. Family
Margot Early's stories pack a powerful punch. She writes with warmth, wit and emotional depth. A sheer pleasure.–Debbie MacomberKal Johnson is a still-grieving widower with a young child. He can't imagine marrying again–not for love, anyway. But it's becoming increasingly clear that his daughter needs someone besides him. A mother. Kal's solution is to place an ad in a local magazine.Wanted: Woman to enter celibate marriage and be stepmother to four-year-old girl. Send child-rearing philosophies to Mr. Family….Erika Blade is a woman who's afraid of love. And sex. She answers the ad, figuring she's probably the only person in the whole world to whom a "celibate marriage" would appeal. After all, she does want children but she doesn't want to acquire them in the usual way. As it turns out, Kal likes her letter–and soon discovers that he likes her. More than likes. He's attracted to her. The one thing that wasn't supposed to happen."Compelling from the first paragraph, Mr. Family– steals the reader's breath with its rare honesty and sensitivity."–Jean R. Ewing, award-winning author of Scandal's Reward"Mr. Family proves again that there is no voice quite like Margot Early's when it comes to the language of the heart."–Laura DeVries (a.k.a. Laura Gordon), author of contemporary and historical romance
Читать Mr. Family онлайн беплатно
Table of Contents
“Hello. This is Kal Johnson calling. Is Erika there?”
His voice was low and resonant. Masculine. God help her.
“This is Erika.”
“I thought we should talk on the phone.” Brilliant, brilliant, keep it up, Kal.
Erika bit her lip. There was a bellows stuck in her throat, and it was opening and closing with each beat of her heart. Talk, she thought. Say something that will make him…
Oh, she wanted it. They could settle into permanence—permanent celibacy, permanent family—and her life would not change again. Safe.
“Your daughter’s beautiful.” The ensuing pause was so long that at last she asked, “Are you still there?”
“Yeah. I…Erika, I’ve thought a lot since I got your letter. Are you serious about this?”
This. As though he couldn’t say it himself. Erika swallowed. She wanted a family—and an opportunity like this wouldn’t come again. Normal people wanted sex. Kal and his grief were her only hope.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”
Dear Reader,
I’m the youngest of eight children and have more than thirty first cousins. When I married my husband, I acquired even more family, not just my beloved spouse, but his family.
So let me tell you a story.
It was like something out of a romance novel. I was in distress, fleeing personal difficulties, taking my two-year-old son with me. My destination: Iowa. My husband-to-be’s family were to meet me at the airport; though I had never met them, on the trust of his love for me, they had invited me to come to their home and stay.
My beautiful future sister-in-law met me at the airport with the words “Welcome to Iowa, Margot!” Just hours later my fiancé’s parents encouraged me to call them “Mom” and “Dad”—a tradition unfamiliar to me, but which I found immediately comfortable and welcoming. In the coming days Mom would inspire me with her courage and love (especially her love for my son!), Dad with his profound generosity, and Grandma with her wisdom and her chocolate chip cookies. I had already conversed at length with my brother-in-law-to-be on the phone. An added bonus was my new sister’s daughter, born the same day as my son. One couldn’t wish for better in-laws!
Five years later, five years sprinkled with love and laughter during periodic visits with these delightful people, I found myself with them again while completing this novel Perhaps that is why Mr. Family celebrates the Hawaiian concept of ohana—not just family, but extended family. Though the characters of Mr. Family—Kal, Erika (who first appeared in The Third Christmas), Hiialo and their ohana—are purely imaginary, perhaps you can feel in these pages the love I’ve been fortunate to know. I hope so. Wishing you and yours the same…
Sincerely,
Margot Early
P.S. I love hearing from readers. Please write to me at P.O. Box 611, Montrose, CO 81402-0611.
For my ohana
I would like to thank the following people, each of whom
helped in some way with this book:
For enriching my appreciation and understanding of art,
I’m grateful to Elaine Barnhart, Jan Carlile and Alan Fine.
To all my ohana who helped in large and small ways during the writing of this book, thank you.
Laura and Cecilia, your friendship and wisdom
brighten my days.
And most of all, I thank the two closest to me, my
husband and son, for your patience and love.
Santa Barbara, California
January
WANTED: Woman to enter celibate marriage and be stepmother to four-year-old girl. Send child-rearing philosophies to Mr. Ohana, Box J, Haena, Kauai, HI.
“THAT’S THE WRONG page.” Impatiently Adele reached over the butter plate with a long-nailed hand that seemed dwarfed by rings, onyx and jade in hand-crafted gold settings. She gestured for Erika to turn the magazine pages. “It’s in the middle.”
“Wait, wait. Look at this.” Strangely excited—in the same way she became excited when a painting was going well—Erika Blade handed Adele the copy of Island Voice, open to the ad for a celibate marriage. In the last few months she had begun to pay attention to personal ads, to flyers for computer dating services, to bulletins for singles’-club activities. She never acted on any of them. Only desperate people did things like that, and she wasn’t really even looking for a mate. Not exactly. She was simply…curious.
Celibate marriage. Send child-rearing philosophies…
If she was ever to answer a personal ad, this would be the one.
Erika and Adele sat at an ocean-view table in the Surf Room, the grand glass-enclosed breakfast room of the famed Montecito Palms Resort Hotel. The glass-topped table was graced with potted violets, fine bone china, heavy English silver, the remains of breakfast, and transparencies of several of Erika’s latest watercolors of women by the sea. Momoy Publishing, owned by Adele and her husband Kurt, had published many of Erika’s paintings as limited-edition prints. In fact, Adele had brought the copy of
