The Mccaffertys: Matt. Lisa Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ Moira.” He carried the pail of stain around on the grass and knelt to paint a new section. “What is it, then?”

      She looked away from him, biting her lip. Doug studied the vulnerable line of his niece’s neck, the pale curve of her little freckled cheek.

      “Mummy cried last night,” she said at last, her face still averted.

      Doug’s heart sank but he kept his voice deliberately casual. “Did she, now?”

      Moira nodded, concentrating on painting a lower row of boards with extreme care.

      “Well,” Doug said with false heartiness, “as I understand it, ladies cry quite often. When they’re upset, it makes them feel better.”

      Moira cast her uncle a skeptical glance. “How do you know about ladies? You’ve never even been married, and you’re older than Mummy.”

      He threw back his head and laughed. “Indeed I am. In fact, I’m thirty-five years old and no wife anywhere in sight. But I’ve known a few ladies in my time, Moira dear, and they all seem to cry sooner or later.”

      She kept her face turned away, but he could see her lower lip quivering. “Mummy cries a lot, Uncle Doug. She’s really worried.”

      Doug set the brush down. For the second time that afternoon, he picked up a child in his arms. He sat on the steps of the carousel, cradling this older niece who almost never allowed herself to be held.

      “Yes, Mummy has some problems,” he whispered into Moira’s silky hair. “But you mustn’t worry, dear. They’ll get worked out.”

      Thoughtfully he gazed across the quiet streets, the church steeple and withered grass, the rolling hills that turned from blue to mauve to pale gray in the distance.

      “Everything will work out,” he said.

      Moira twisted on his lap to give him a tearful, questioning glance.

      “How do you know for sure? Just because you’re the mayor?”

      Doug laughed. “Oh, my sweetheart, I wish being the mayor of Crystal Creek gave me enough power to wave a magic wand and fix everybody’s troubles.”

      “Maybe the magic lady will fix everything,” Moira suggested.

      “What magic lady?”

      “You know.” Moira glared at him impatiently. “The magic lady who drives around in her big car and looks at everything.”

      “Oh, no. Not that again,” Doug said with a mock groan.

      “Tell me about her, right from the start,” Moira commanded.

      Her uncle sighed. By now he was weary of the story he’d made up to entertain his nieces, but the children still loved to hear it.

      “Well, I saw her again this past week, lovey,” he said, squinting at the horizon.

      “What did she look like?” Moira asked. “What was she doing?”

      “She was a woman as lovely as a picture, Moira, in a big yellow Mercedes with California license plates. Doing the very same thing she’s been doing for months—driving around very slowly and looking at our town.”

      “And from the very first time you saw her, you knew…” Moira prompted.

      “I knew that huge changes were coming for Crystal Creek,” he said obediently.

      “But will the changes make Mummy stop crying at night?”

      Doug’s smile faded, and he hugged the child closer. “Your mother’s problems are separate from the troubles of our town, my darling. But perhaps the magic lady will work everything out at the same time.”

      Moira wriggled from his grasp and stood erect, staring at the carousel with narrowed eyes. “I don’t believe in the magic lady anymore,” she said. “Nobody’s seen her except you. I think you just made her up to have a story for Robin and me.”

      Doug thought about the big yellow car he’d first seen a few months ago, gliding silently past the hotel in the autumn sunlight.

      And the beautiful dark-haired woman who sat at the wheel of the Mercedes, piloting her golden vehicle through the streets and avenues of Crystal Creek.

      She’d looked around at his town with such intent, concentrated interest. And when she turned away, her profile was as finely sculpted as Waterford crystal.

      “No,” he told the child, falling into a soft brogue as he remembered. “I didna imagine her, my lassie.”

      “And she’ll make everything better?”

      “Ah, yes,” Doug said with a hearty optimism he didn’t feel. “One day soon our princess will reveal her plan, and we will all be verra, verra glad to hear it.”

      “You’re crazy, Uncle Doug.” Moira scrambled from his embrace and picked up her brush again. But she seemed a little reassured, and her face wasn’t quite as tense.

      Doug grinned and followed her down the steps to replace the lid on his bucket of stain.

      “Let’s go back for our scones and tea,” he said. “You bring the paint cans and brush, and I’ll carry that lumping great sister of yours.”

      While Moira collected the supplies, Doug lifted the sleeping Robin into his arms, still warmly wrapped in the denim jacket. They started up the street toward the Crystal Creek Hotel, a bright little procession in the silent winter afternoon, Doug making a conscious effort to slow his long strides so Moira could keep up.

      “Do you like it better here than in Scotland?” she asked, trotting along at his side.

      “Much better,” Doug said briefly, glancing down at the child. “And how about you?”

      “It rains all the time in Scotland. And the cities aren’t clean like this.”

      “Exactly right, my pet.” Doug grinned at his niece. “The weather is generally a lot better in Texas, even if it does get far too hot in the summer for any sane man to enjoy.”

      “But do you ever get homesick for Scotland?” Moira asked.

      He thought it over. “Sometimes, but not for long. And you know what? As soon as I go back for a visit, I remember why I’m so fond of Texas.”

      “Mummy and Robin and I have never gone back there for a visit,” Moira said.

      “You girls and your mother only arrived a year ago,” Doug said. “And Mummy’s afraid that if you went home—” He fell abruptly silent, but Moira picked up on what he’d been about to say.

      “She’s afraid they wouldn’t let us come back,” the child said. “That’s why Mummy cries at night, isn’t it? Because we might have to leave Texas.”

      “Citizenship issues are too big a problem for a wee girl like you to worry about,” Doug said. “You mustn’t let it bother you, Moira.”

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