Promises of the Heart

by Nan Rossiter

  “Well, if you boys want lunch, you need to decide about a ramp.”

  “Well, see if he’ll go up first,” Ben said, nodding toward the steps.

  Macey climbed the front steps of the old Victorian and looked back. “C’mon, Keep,” she called. Keeper started to follow, and even set his one front paw on the bottom step, but then changed his mind, sat down, and gazed at her, as if she were asking him to do the impossible.

  “You can do it,” Maeve encouraged, kneeling down next to him. “Call Gus,” she suggested, looking up at her sister.

  “C’mon, Gus,” Macey said, and the hapless Lab bounded up the steps and almost knocked Macey over.

  “Go ahead, Keep—just like Gus,” Maeve said softly. Keeper stood up again, tentatively placed his paw on the step, but then barked, backed away, and sat down. “I guess not,” Maeve said glumly.

  “Let’s see if he can make it up the back steps,” Macey said. She picked up the box and walked around the wraparound porch to the back door, with Gus at her heels while Maeve and Keeper followed in the yard. “How ’bout here, buddy?”

  Keeper eyed the three steps, and then, with a happy bark, easily hopped up. “Good boy!” Macey said, giving him a hug. “I knew you could do it!” Gus bounced around as if he were spring-loaded, and then the two dogs ran the length of the porch and back.

  “Looks like we get to have lunch without doing any work,” Gage said, smiling.

  Ben laughed. “Oh, I’m sure Macey can find something for us to do. I never get off that easy.”

  Macey ignored him. “C’mon, Keep,” she called, holding the door open. “C’mon in and check out your new home!”

  26

  HARPER STUDIED HER REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR AND THEN REACHED around the edge of the hairdresser’s cape to wipe away a bead of water that was trickling down her cheek. “I think I’d like it cut really short.”

  “How short?” Janelle asked, dabbing her cheek with a towel.

  Harper looked at one of the pictures on the wall. “Like that,” she said, pointing to a picture of a girl with a pixie cut.

  “That’s pretty short, hon,” Janelle said, frowning, but seeing the disappointment on Harper’s face, added, “but I bet it’d look real cute on you.”

  Harper turned her head, trying to imagine how she’d look with short hair. “What do you think, Cora?”

  “I think you should get your hair cut any way you like, baby, but you need to decide soon because we have a doctor’s appointment in . . .” She trailed off as she glanced at her watch. “One hour.”

  “Just like that then,” Harper confirmed, nodding toward the picture again.

  As Janelle combed out her long hair, Lana, the stylist cutting an older woman’s hair in the next chair, looked over. “Your hair is such a beautiful color, you should consider donating it.”

  Harper frowned. “Donating it?”

  “Mm-hmm . . .”

  Janelle nodded. “That’s a good idea!” Then she looked at Cora. “Cora, this is Lana. She just moved into our complex, and she has a little girl, Kari, who’s the same age as Rudy, and a little boy, Kayden, who’s the same age as Joe.”

  Cora smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Lana. Maybe we can get our kids together sometime.”

  “That would be nice,” Lana said. “They need someone to play with so I can get them outside and outta my hair!” She turned back to Harper. “Anyway, child, there are quite a few organizations like Locks of Love that make hair pieces for kids who’ve lost their hair.”

  “Why have they lost their hair?”

  “Mostly because of medical reasons.”

  Harper considered for a brief second. “What do you think, Cora?”

  “I think it’s up to you, baby.”

  “I’ll do it!” Harper said, a smile lighting her face.

  “This child’s going to donate her beautiful hair to Locks of Love!” Janelle announced, and all the other stylists and patrons stopped their chattering and cheered.

  Harper smiled shyly and felt her cheeks get warm as Janelle reached for her hair dryer. She gently brushed out Harper’s silky hair. “You definitely do not have a rat’s nest, child—I don’t know what that lady was talking about. You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot of hair! It just needs a little TLC.”

  “What’s TLC?”

  “Tender loving care,” Janelle said, gently braiding Harper’s hair and putting a hair band around it.

  “Last chance, now. You sure?” she asked, reaching for her scissors. “Because once I start, there’s no turning ’round, and it’ll take a year to grow back.”

  “I’m sure,” Harper said, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the gentle tug on her head as Janelle started to cut. A few seconds later, she held the ponytail up for everyone to see. “Look at this beautiful ponytail some little redhead’s going to get!”

  “That is one gorgeous ponytail,” Lana said, smiling and winking at Harper.

  Everyone cheered again, and Harper opened her eyes and tried to picture a little kid wearing a wig made from her hair. The idea made her feel oddly warm inside, and she smiled. “Maybe I’ll grow it so I can donate again.”

  Cora smiled to herself. This poor little girl—who has nothing and no one—is still willing to give what she can. She might be a scrappy, foul-mouthed tomboy on the outside, but inside, she has a good heart.

  Janelle adjusted her glasses and got to work, snipping, trimming, eyeing, and snipping some more, and all the time, humming. “Where were all those pictures taken?” Harper asked, looking at the photos tucked into the frame of her mirror.

  “Tha’s my home,” Janelle said, and then she started to softly sing the lyrics to the song she’d been humming—“Jamaican Farewell.”

  Harper listened to the words and smiled. “You’re a good singer.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you ever go to Jamaica?”

  “Not as often as I’d like. See that picture there?” She pointed to a photograph of two young men wearing shorts and flip-flops with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders.

  Harper nodded.

  “Those are my babies. Ma boys!”

  “How come they’re in Jamaica and you’re here?” Harper asked.

  “Oh, it’s just the way things worked out,” Janelle said with a sigh as she dried and brushed Harper’s hair. She paused. “So what do you think?” She turned the chair so Harper could see her reflection.

  “Wow,” Harper said softly. “I look totally different.” She turned her head and reached up to touch her hair. “I love it! Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome, child. I’m glad you love it.”

  “Cora and Miss Lana, what do you think?”

  Cora smiled and nodded. “It looks real nice.”

  “It looks real cute!” Lana said, giving her a thumbs-up.

  “Thanks! Wait till Rudy sees me,” Harper mused, turning her head again.

  “She probably won’t recognize you,” Cora said with a chuckle.

  Janelle smiled, lightly fluffing her handiwork and unsnapping the cape. “Now we can see your ears, so you’ll have to get your ears pierced and pick out some cute earrings.”

  “Ooh! Can I?” Harper asked hopefully, looking at Cora.

  “One thing at a time,” Cora said, reaching into her bag.

  Janelle looked up, saw her friend pulling out her wallet, and shook her head. “Oh, no . . . There’s no charge for donations to Locks of Love,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” Cora asked, frowning.

  “I am positive,” Janelle replied, folding the cape and laying it on the chair. “Now, scoot or you’ll be late for your doctor’s appointment.”

  “Well, please take a tip,” Cora insisted, trying to press a bill into her hand.

  “No, no,” Janelle said, pulling her hand away and reaching for her broom. “I’ll see you later.”

  Cora sighed. “I’ll get you back.”

  �
��You can try,” Janelle said, chuckling.

  “Don’t even,” Lana said, laughing.

  Twenty minutes later, Cora and Harper were sitting in the waiting room of the Children’s Heart Center and Cora was bent over a clipboard, filling out paperwork.

  “How’d you get today off?” Harper asked, leaning back in her chair and touching her head—which felt lighter.

  “I told ’em they are just going to have to manage without me,” Cora answered as she checked boxes. “I don’t know half the answers to these questions,” she said with a sigh. “When’s your birthday again, baby?”

  “March first,” Harper said, fiddling with a loose thread on her chair. She looked around the busy waiting room. “Look, Cora, they have one of those coffeemakers—just like Janelle has in her salon.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Cora murmured distractedly.

  “Do you want me to fix you a cup?” Harper asked hopefully.

  Cora, absorbed in her task and searching through her bag for Harper’s insurance information, didn’t hear the question.

  “Can I make a cup?” Harper repeated, sitting on the edge of her seat, but Cora still didn’t answer, so she stood up. “I’m just gonna make one,” she said softly, hoping Cora wouldn’t say no. She walked across the room to the coffee machine and then glanced back to see if she’d noticed, but Cora was still engrossed in her paperwork, so Harper turned to the display rack and looked at the flavors. Finally, she reached for a pod, dropped it into the coffeemaker, and clicked it closed. She positioned a paper coffee cup under the dispenser, and pushed BREW, and the coffeemaker spritzed to life, spilling out a stream of dark coffee. Harper tore open three sugar packets, dumped them in, and then added a generous amount of cream. She gingerly took a sip, hoping it wasn’t too hot, licked her lips approvingly, and walked over to look at the fish tank. She lightly tapped the glass near an orange-and-white clown fish.

  “Hey, Nemo,” she said softly. Just then a blue-and-yellow surgeonfish emerged from behind a treasure chest. “Dory!” she squeaked, almost spilling the coffee.

  Cora looked up, saw the cup in Harper’s hand, and frowned. “What are you drinking?”

  Harper looked down as if she didn’t know what Cora was talking about. “This?” she asked innocently. “I told you I was making it. I made it for you—just the way you like it—light and sweet.”

  Cora eyed her suspiciously, and Harper handed it to her.

  “Here,” she said. “See if it’s all right.”

  Cora took a sip and smiled. “Mmm . . . it’s perfect. Thank you.”

  Harper sat down next to her and nodded. “It’s called Donut Shop.”

  The door to the waiting room opened, and a physician’s assistant holding an iPad surveyed the waiting room. Finally, her eyes settled on Harper. “Harper Wheaton?”

  Harper nodded, wishing her heart would stop racing, and reached for Cora’s hand.

  27

  MACEY FELT A WARM BODY STIRRING NEXT TO HER AND OPENED HER EYES. The kitchen was dark except for the soft light coming from the night-light next to the coffeepot. She looked at the clock and groaned—it was after midnight! Why hadn’t Ben woken her? She sat up and stroked Keeper’s silky fur. “Night, ole pie,” she murmured sleepily, kissing his head. “It’s time for me to find my own bed.” Keeper opened one eye, yawned, and snuggled his head deeper into the side of the soft fleece.

  Macey left the night-light on and trudged upstairs. It had been another long day at work—the rhinovirus and a nasty stomach bug were both working their way through the local elementary schools, and some poor kids had been lucky enough to catch both. She closed the bathroom door, turned on the light, and looked at her reflection. After falling asleep on Keeper’s bed, her mascara was smudged, her eyes were puffy, and her hair—yikes! She’d canceled her haircut and now she really needed to reschedule. She brushed her teeth, threw her clothes in the hamper, and pulled on her pj’s—Ben’s old waffle Henley and a pair of boxers. She rubbed a copious amount of cream into her hands—which were dry from all the hand sanitizer she’d used at work—switched off the light, and tried to find her way in the dark, but when she reached the bed, she swung her foot forward and smacked her toe. “Ouch!” she cried. “Son of a bitch!” she added for good measure, falling onto the bed and tearfully rubbing the offended toe.

  Ben sat up groggily. “What’d you do? Are you okay?”

  “I stubbed my toe,” she cried, “and no, I’m not! I think I broke it.”

  “You probably just bruised it,” Ben consoled, rubbing her back.

  “How come you didn’t wake me when you came up?”

  “Because you looked so comfortable, and Keeper looked so content. Besides, I’m beginning to think you like him more than me.”

  Macey frowned, still rubbing her toe. “You sound jealous.”

  “I am a little jealous,” he admitted sheepishly. “There’s another handsome blond male living in our house, and ever since he moved in, he’s been getting all the attention.”

  “Poor you,” Macey said as she gingerly slipped her still-throbbing toe under the covers. “I’m just trying to help him adjust. I want to make sure he knows he’s loved.”

  “I’m sure he knows. Last night, he got grilled hamburger mixed in with his kibble, and tonight, he got roasted chicken.” Ben propped his head up on his elbow. “How ’bout making sure the other male in your life knows he’s loved?”

  “I don’t think he deserves it after he left me downstairs.”

  “I just thought you two looked cozy,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers.

  Macey sighed, relenting a little as the pain in her toe subsided. “You’ll be taking your life in your hands—I took the vital signs of at least thirty vomiting, sneezing children today.”

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Ben said, sliding his hand along the elastic waistband of her boxers. “Hmm, didn’t you get the memo?”

  “What memo?”

  “It’s no-boxer night.”

  Macey reached over to see if he had his boxers on, but nope, as usual, he was buck naked. “No, I didn’t get the memo.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to fix that,” he said, sliding his hand inside her boxers and pushing them down as he softly kissed her.

  “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling neglected,” she whispered into his kiss. “Thank you for letting us get Keeper. He’s such a sweetheart, and I know he’s much happier now . . . and he’s been so good. Did you notice he hasn’t gotten into anything? And he’s been fine by himself when we’re at . . .”

  “Shhh,” Ben whispered, kissing her again. “It’s our time.”

  In the darkness, Macey smiled, and even though her mind continued to race on, she didn’t say any more. Our time, she thought. Is this what our time is going to be like? Just Ben and me and Keeper? No little kids for Keep to love, either? No little fingers and cheeks for him to lick peanut butter off? She realized her heartache could indeed be compounded by a dog. Now, she would not only feel sad for them, she’d also feel sad for Keeper, because he’d never get to know what it was like to have little people chasing him around and falling asleep on top of him.

  “Hey,” Ben said softly, bringing her back to the present.

  “I’m sorry. My mind just keeps going along on its own.”

  “We don’t have to do this. . . .”

  “No, no—I want to,” she said, rolling onto her side to face him.

  “After all,” he said softly, “you’re the one who keeps talking about being in the moment.”

  “I am,” she admitted sheepishly.

  “What did you call it . . . momentness?”

  “Mindfulness,” she answered, smiling.

  “Ah, mindfulness.” He pulled her against him, and she felt how aroused he was. “See if you can wrap your mind around this,” he whispered.

  “I can wrap more than my mind around it,” she teased, slipping her leg over his.

  “Maybe we can lose this s
exy shirt, too,” he said, sliding his hands along the curves of her body and pushing it over her head. He traced his fingers lightly along her thighs, lingering here and there until she felt a tingling rush between her legs.

  She breathed in the clean scent of soap mixed with the familiar scent of his body. “Mmm, you smell good,” she murmured, reaching for him and teasing him, too, until, finally, unable to hold on, she moved her hands to his hips and tried to ease him on top of her.

  “What’s your hurry?” he whispered, hovering above her.

  “I’m in no hurry,” she said, smiling.

  He brushed his long, hard body against hers, and she tried to pull him closer, but he just ran his lips along the nape of her neck. “Should I stop?” he whispered in her ear. “Because I can. . . .”

  “No, you can’t,” she said, laughing.

  “Yes, I can,” he said, grinning.

  “You better take it while you can get it, mister,” she said, pulling him against her.

  Ben smiled, covering her body with his, and moving slowly up and down, pressed against her, penetrating more deeply with every upward motion. “You feel so good,” he whispered.

  “So do you,” Macey murmured, lifting her hips and pulling him deeper. Finally, she heard him breathe faster and felt him surging inside until she, too, caught her breath. They lay still, their bodies intertwined, their hearts pounding.

  “When we were younger, I had no idea you would be so good at this.”

  “I know—so much untapped potential just waiting to be appreciated!”

  “Foolish me for taking so long,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I certainly appreciate it now.”

  He kissed her softly. “Oh, Mace,” he said, his voice turning solemn. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered, breathing in the lovely scent of him. She thought she could never get enough.

  BEN’S SOFT, STEADY BREATHING TOLD MACEY HE’D FALLEN ASLEEP. SHE sighed, wishing she could fall asleep so easily. Their whole marriage, Ben had always been first to fall asleep. He could even fall back asleep after being woken up. She, on the other hand, had one precious opportunity for a good night’s sleep. If she fell asleep on the couch—or on the dog bed, as she had tonight—it was nearly impossible for her to fall back asleep. And she could tell tonight would be no different. Tired as she was, her mind was already picking up where it had left off.