and
daddy and granny and grandpa ... "and after a slight pause added,
almost apologetically,” ... and my baby brother Michael.”
Julian treated this obviously recent
defection as it deserved, by tickling her. This procedure was
greeted with squeals and chuckles and after a questioning look at
Andrea, he treated her to an ice cream. To Claire's dismay, she
chose the same combination as herself. She tucked into the
offending article as the adults beamed at her, as adults tend to
with children who are not their own. Having demolished a
goodly portion, she stared at Claire and uttered a question with a
forthright candor that marked her unerringly as Andrea's kin. "Who
are you?"
Julian laughed indulgently. "Marcie, you
should wait to be introduced, like a proper, young lady."
"Why," emitted the potential, proper, young
lady, wiping her chin on his shirt. An exercise, to Claire's
amazement, he completely ignored. "Oh alright, intra
... doose me then,” Marcie capitulated, her inexperienced tongue
having a little difficulty with the word.
"Claire, I'd like you to meet Marcella
Saunders. Marcie this is Claire Fitzpatrick, a very good
friend.”
"How come I've never met you before, if
you're Uncle Julian's friend?"
Good Lord, Andrea must be training her.
"Because I've been away in New York."
"Oh." She accepted the explanation and
returned to her cone, but first managed to wipe her sticky hands on
Julian's hair.
“Why don't we find a shaded cafe and have a
cool drink," suggested Stephen.
Everyone assented and they walked along the
wharf, Claire falling into step beside Stephen, behind Andrea and
Julian, who still held Marcie in his arms. She hardly heard
Stephen's comments welcoming her back so engrossed was she in
observing Julian's dexterity with the child.
She turned to Stephen, who'd taken his pipe
out of his rumpled pants pocket and was now fishing through his
nondescript shirt for a light. She offered him the matches
she'd picked up at lunch and wondered, for at least the hundredth
time, what this quiet, faintly absent-minded man ever had in common
with Andrea. There had to be something. They'd been
married for twenty-eight years and, according to all reports,
extremely happily.
Declining to further explore this
mystery, she returned to her previous source of amazement. "Julian
seems to know Marcie very well."
"Oh yes, they get along famously.
Course, he's the same with our other boys' children.
But I must admit I think Marcie's his favorite, being the
only girl." He puffed on his pipe and then continued. "He's
fond of the children; pity he doesn't have any of his own.
Susanna couldn't," he added by way of explanation and then
coughed, wondering if maybe he shouldn't have mentioned Susanna,
vaguely remembering Andrea saying something about Julian being in
love with Claire. Or was it Claire? Perhaps it was some
other girl. He hoped so.
Julian kept Marcie beside him throughout the
time they spent at the cafe, sitting her on his knee and playing
numerous games Claire half-remembered from her own childhood.
He seemed to enjoy Marcie's company better than anyone else’s
at the table. He wiped her hands and face with a napkin and
when the waiter informed them they didn't usually make the Shirley
Temple Marcie requested, he slipped him a large tip and the drink
was duly supplied.
Observing Marcie, she told herself it was
hardly surprising, she really was a very enchanting child. It
was just that she'd never thought...Julian and children? With
a rueful smile, she realized this was yet another time in less than
twenty-four hours that she’d seen him in a startlingly different
light. She thought there was always something quite touching
about a man with little children, especially a little girl.
The fact that the man was Julian for some unfathomable reason
seemed to make it doubly touching.
She looked across at him and their eyes met,
the expression in his revealing
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