by Lyn Cote
“I’m going to be giving a small dinner party at the end of this month,” Brooke said. “A kind of end-of-winter party. Would you and Jake come?”
Jake looked to her. The fact that Brooke considered her and Jake a couple tangled up her vocal cords.
“Did I say the wrong thing again?” Brooke asked, looking upset at herself.
Amy’s throat loosened. “No, you didn’t. It’s just that Jake’s my boss and…”
“How about this,” Brooke said, “you two can get back to me, okay?”
“Okay,” Amy said, drawing a shallow breath. “Thanks for understanding.”
Finally, the door closed and she and Jake were alone. She drew up her reserves, planning on sending him off with a cheery thanks.
Jake opened his arms. “Come here.”
She considered resisting his invitation. Then she did what she had longed to do all evening. She walked to him and rested against his strong chest. “I shouldn’t—”
He pulled her closer still, stopping her words against his soft sweatshirt.
She rested against him and found that breathing came easier. His soft kisses on her forehead and hair fell, wordless blessings raining over her. “Jake,” she whispered. His physical closeness soothed her, comforted. Yet so many cautions popped up all warning her to stop, to step away.
He tucked her even closer and replied, “Amy, sweet Amy.”
She could have stayed within his tender embrace forever, but Jake urged her to the sofa. He steered her to the cushions and then eased down beside her. However, he never relinquished her hand, staying connected to her.
Then he leaned back and gathered her under his arm. “Rough night.”
He didn’t say it as a question, just a sympathetic comment.
“You always know when I’m upset,” she murmured against his shirt.
“Yes, I seem to have developed an Amy radar.”
She grew even more solemn. In spite of all her efforts against this happening, she had developed a Jake radar, too.
“Tell me…whatever’s bothering you, whatever you want me to know, Amy.”
She relaxed against him. Part of her wanted to pour out her heart; another part of her sharply warned her not to do that. But who else would ask? Not wishing to burden Ginnie, Amy had never told her much about Carrie. Amy took a deep breath and plunged in. “When we got the call from Brad tonight, it brought everything back from when my sister disappeared.” Her stomach churned with each word.
“I guessed that. It’s funny, isn’t it, how something that no one else would think was upsetting can send us into a tailspin.”
She looked up and a smile touched her lips. “That describes it. When you said, ‘It’s the police,’ it was like some big hand grabbed me and shoved me down into a dark pit.” Amy closed her eyes, warding off tears. I will not cry.
Jake kissed her hair again, a benediction.
This gave her the courage to bring up something she had worried and wondered about. “Jake, that day in the clinic, the day we rescued that litter of kittens, you said you lost a brother. Then Sandy came and I couldn’t say anything, ask about him. I’ve wanted to ask about him so many times, but was afraid to pry.” She held her breath. Am I prying into something I shouldn’t?
Jake didn’t reply.
She shouldn’t have asked such a personal question. “You don’t need to tell me,” she hurried to say. “I shouldn’t have asked—”
“It happened almost twenty years ago this month,” Jake said in a gruff voice. “My mother and my brother were killed in a snowmobile accident.”
Amy had no words. She pressed her face against Jake’s chest and rested her hand on his shoulder.
“It was one of those freak things. They were on the same snowmobile and for some reason, some reason we’ll never know, they hit a tree.” His voice churned with emotion. “I wasn’t with them. I’d gone to a friend’s house for the night.”
At the bitterness in his tone, Amy lifted her head. She’d been right. Jake did understand how a phone call could devastate someone. She stroked his cheek, wishing she knew how to comfort this good man. Amy waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she started to pull away.
“Who’s Brad to you?” he asked.
The question startled her. She grimaced. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job of acting naturally with him, did I?”
“You were upset. I could tell he knew you, but he didn’t talk to you about the girls or—”
“He definitely didn’t ask about the girls,” she said unable to keep the sardonic twist out of her tone, to deny the bitter taste left on her tongue. “Brad and I dated a few years ago. He knew I was a single mom and said he was okay with it. In the end, he wasn’t. That’s what ended our…dating.” And she hadn’t made the same mistake since.
“He didn’t like your girls?” Jake sounded disbelieving.
She looked into his eyes. He looked so sincere. She had to believe that Jake liked the twins, but then they weren’t dating. Or were they? Brooke thought of them as a couple.
Confused, she pulled away, sitting apart from him. “Yes, he didn’t like the girls. Or to be precise, he didn’t like sharing me with the girls. It became a tug of war and I was in the middle. It wasn’t the first time that’s happened. But it was the last. That’s why I don’t date.” She hoped he understood that.
But then why had she let him hold her and kiss her? How did he sneak past her barriers? If they did become a couple, would she end up with another tug of war?
Jake nodded politely, but he looked down, and she couldn’t read his face. “Do you think you’ll ever hear from your sister again?” he asked in a sober voice.
“I don’t know.” His changing topics suggested she might be right, he was withdrawing from her. Sometimes even the best of men didn’t want to deal with children who weren’t their own. Being a friend differed from being a boyfriend.
But did friendship include kissing? Jake had kissed her. However, maybe since he hadn’t kissed her on the lips, that meant just friendship to him. But not to me. A dangerous thought. And what about Brooke’s invitation? He’d said nothing about accepting it.
Amy sighed. “I’m going to check on the girls.”
Jake rose. “I’ll go with you and then I should get home. We’ve got a busy Saturday tomorrow.”
Amy tried not to feel let down. I shouldn’t have let him hold me. Why did everything always have to get so complicated?
Chapter 10
On the next bright but frigid Sunday afternoon, Amy entered the local Walmart with the twins to do the week’s grocery shopping. Amy smiled politely at the greeter, selected a cart and aimed it toward the grocery side of the large store.
With her hand on its side rim, Rachel stopped the cart. “Mom, let’s look at clothes first.”
Amy hadn’t planned on buying the girls new clothes today. But why not? “Okay, we’ll take a look.” After being inside so much because of the weather, maybe the girls just wanted to prolong their outing with a little “window shopping.”
Amy aimed for the girls’ section. But Rachel again abruptly halted her before she reached it. “No, Mom, let’s look at clothes for you.”
For me? Amy studied her daughters’ expressions. Rachel had that determined cast to her features, firm jaw and focused gaze. “Clothes?” Amy objected. “I don’t need any new—”
“Yes, you do,” Cassie piped up. “You need some prettier clothes. You’re the office manager now.”
“And we’re going to own a house, not just rent,” Rachel added.
Amy continued to study the twins’ faces as she tried to sort out this new development. What were the girls up to? Then Amy glanced down at herself. A faded pair of jeans, warm winter boots, and a fleece shirt under her down jacket—perfect winter Walmart attire.
Then she recalled how few boxes all her clothing had fit in. And when Jake had helped her move, she’d been embarrassed to have to accept help once again. I want to
help others for a change.
Maybe new clothing would help her let people recognize that though she appreciated their help, she didn’t need it anymore. She had needed assistance when the girls were babies, but no more. And what about that dinner party that Brooke had invited them to. The one Jake hadn’t mentioned yet. She would need something nice for that.
“Let’s just look, Mom,” Rachel wheedled. “We want you to dress pretty.”
Amy recalled the stylish way Brooke dressed. The idea of trying to match this tempted her. “Well…”
“Mom, please,” Cassie coaxed. “It’ll be fun.”
Amy shrugged in surrender. “All right.” New clothes would give her a lift. I am a woman after all. She grinned at this. “Maybe I could use a new pair of jeans and a shirt.”
Both girls did a little victory dance. That made Amy smile again. She did have two good-hearted girls. Rachel led the way into the narrow aisles of the clothing department.
“What size are you, Mom?”
“Size small or a six, but long or tall.”
The girls started paging through the hanging racks, scraping hangers. Then they scooped up several pairs of folded jeans from shelves.
“Hold it,” Amy cautioned. “I said one new pair of jeans and one shirt.”
“You need more than that, Mom,” Rachel countered with a pout.
“Yeah, you need more than one of each,” Cassie agreed.
Amy decided not to fight them. “I can only take six items to the fitting room.”
“Yeah, but we can bring you more when you finish—”
“I’m not going to be trying on clothing for an hour,” she said, pressured, yet a little eager. It would be nice to own something new. She’d been saving every penny for the upcoming mortgage and new furniture for their house. She glanced around at the racks of clothing, tempted to shop for more than she’d agreed to.
A baby-blue oxford shirt caught her eye. “Oh, that’s nice.” She reached for it, paging through the blue ones till she found her size. She looked at the girls just in time to catch the last second of a conspiratorial exchange of glances. What exactly did the two have in mind?
Soon Amy stood in the dressing room. She and the girls had gathered more pairs of slacks and tops for her to start her trying-on session.
“When you got a new outfit on, come out so we can see,” Cassie said through the door.
Amy sighed. “Okay.” Maybe this merely signaled that her girls had matured a bit more. She obediently tried on a pair of khaki slacks and the blue oxford blouse. Both fit. She stepped out for the girls’ approval.
The two studied her and then Rachel looked into the cart where the rest of the clothing they’d gathered awaited. “Try this on, Mom.” Rachel offered her a darker blue cable-knit cardigan.
Amy donned the sweater and modeled the ensemble.
Rachel and Cassie exchanged glances. “Now we need to accessorize.”
Amy gawked at them. “Accessorize? Where did you hear that?”
“On TV,” Rachel explained with a Don’t you know anything, Mom? expression. “Aunt Ginnie sometimes watches QVC.”
“And What Not to Wear. We like that one best,” Cassie said.
Amy wanted to laugh but swallowed it. Her girls were absolutely serious. “So you think I’m in need of a fashion makeover?”
The two nodded, expressions absolutely solemn.
Amy had never aspired to being fashionable. But now she had to choke down the fact that her seven-year-olds thought she needed a makeover. Did Jake think the same thing?
Where had that thought come from?
She put both questions out of her mind and stalked back into the dressing room. She recalled her disagreement with Jake about her paying rent on the bungalow they lived in now. Had her neat but worn and serviceable wardrobe made him try to refuse her rent check? A disturbing thought. Did clothes make the woman?
“Mom!” Rachel called to her, bringing her back to the present. “Cassie and me are going to go get you a few accessories. We’ll be right back.”
Amy stared into the claustrophobically close mirror, in danger of bumping her nose against it. Accessories. What next?
When she and the girls finally arrived at the checkout, they had selected the week’s groceries plus the first outfit Amy had tried on. Also a new pair of black jeans, two more blouses—one ivory and one baby pink—and some inexpensive jewelry, a belt and a new purse. Amy comforted herself that she hadn’t actually spent that much and recalled the Walmart motto—“Save Money, Live Better.” But she didn’t think anything she’d chosen would be quite right for a dinner party at Brooke’s.
“I still think we shoulda got you those high heels,” Rachel groused.
“Yeah, pretty women always wear high heels,” Cassie joined in.
“Pretty women in Wisconsin wear boots in the winter,” Amy said dryly.
“You tell ’em, sister,” the checker said with a grin.
Amy chuckled and got busy placing the food items on the checkout conveyor. “Now, girls, help me get the cart unloaded.”
The twins began setting canned goods on the belt. And on their way outside, they took charge of the bags of new clothing. They grinned and gave each other a high five. Their satisfied expressions made Amy suspicious. “What are you two up to?”
They only giggled and ran ahead to the car.
Amy shook her head. Although she couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to wear some new clothes to the clinic on Tuesday. Would Jake notice?
She backed away from that thought. Her “relationship” with Jake had just sort of developed on its own and had not really been identified. If they went to Brooke’s dinner party, would that actually mean they were a “couple”? Would dressing more fashionably make a difference in Dan’s eyes? Amy tried never to be prideful or think of herself more highly than she ought. But her life had progressed over the past few years. And perhaps her outward appearance should reflect that.
After stowing the groceries in the van and backing out, she drove away. A car nearby pulled out and seemed to follow them all the way home. When Amy drove into the drive at the little house, she watched the car drive farther on, but wondered why. They lived on a dead-end road now. Where could the driver be headed? In a moment, the car was forgotten as the twins raced out with her bags, excited to put away her new clothes.
At the end of a long Tuesday, Amy didn’t know what to do about Jake’s obviously low mood. Bummer looked up at her as if understanding her quandary. She rubbed her forehead, trying to decide what to do, what to say. Maybe she shouldn’t pry, but Jake had become very important to her, and she didn’t like to see him down.
When she heard the last patient approaching from the examining rooms, she looked up and smiled. A man and his aging German shepherd stopped at the counter to pay. Usually Jake followed his patients to the front, chatting. Not this time. Amy accepted the man’s payment, exchanged predictions about when spring might arrive. And then as he left, waved goodbye.
She walked out to the waiting area, locked the door, and began straightening magazines. She waited for Jake to come out and do a friendly recap of the day as he usually did. He didn’t come.
She didn’t relish trying to get him to talk. But I’m not only his office manager. I’m his friend. And the only way to find out what was bothering him was to ask him. The recent memory of looking up into Jake’s handsome face after he’d kissed her hair flashed in her mind.
The nasty little voice also in her mind taunted: Right. Friends. Don’t lie to yourself. You two are more than friends. At the Pet Parade, half the town witnessed him hugging you. And Brooke invited you as a couple. He still hadn’t discussed that with her either. They must let Brooke know if they weren’t coming. It was only polite.
No more putting this off. She marched back to the break room, Bummer trotting behind her. When she found it empty, she realized that Jake had shut himself in his office. Ominous, but it spurred her on. She made a
cup of coffee for him and tea for herself and opened the connecting door. She motioned for Bummer to stay and for once he obeyed her, jumping up on the break room sofa. Then she gave her attention to Jake. He sat in his chair behind his desk, just staring.
She halted, studying his expression. He’s far away from here. And not in a good place, either.
“I brought you coffee,” she murmured, approaching him. She set the mug on the blotter in front of him. For a moment, he looked at her as if she were speaking Swahili.
“Coffee,” he repeated.
“Yes, coffee,” she said, sitting in the chair opposite him. “What’s upset you?”
He picked up the mug and stared at her over it, deep worry streaming from his eyes.
She left her tea and moved around the desk. She leaned, half sitting, against it. “Please, Jake, what’s wrong?”
He set down the mug and hung his head. He didn’t reply, didn’t look up.
She thought about pressing him, but decided against that. Not her style. “I’ll go finish with the kennel,” she excused herself. “Sandy had to leave early.”
He held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m trying to decide what to do about something. We’ll talk later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Amy walked with brisk, purposeful steps back to the kennel. Keeping busy often proved the only way to fend off worry and concern. Yet a chill spread through her that had nothing to do with this awful winter that had lingered into March. What was on Jake’s mind?
Minutes after Amy left him, Jake heard someone pounding on the clinic’s back door—fiercely and urgently. He jumped up and began running toward the sound. Amy got there first and opened it. A woman rushed in—Mrs. Duffy, holding Pickles, her pug.
Jake raced forward. “What’s wrong?”
“Thank goodness you’re still here!” Mrs. Duffy exclaimed. “Pickles is having trouble breathing. Help him!”
Jake lifted Pickles and raced to the nearest exam room. Mrs. Duffy and Amy jogged after him. First he turned the dog upside down, which sometimes dislodged foreign objects. “Mrs. Duffy, do you know of anything Pickles might have eaten, something that could have stuck in his throat?”