A Million Little Things--A Novel

by Susan Mallery

  According to her research, the day care center had gotten high marks from several parents, it was accredited and none of the employees had criminal records. While that wasn’t as much information as she would like, she figured she had to start somewhere.

  It was three minutes before ten. She and Jack had a ten o’clock appointment with the director. Even though every bone in her body told her to keep Jack safe at home, a very small part of her brain whispered that it was possible that her son might enjoy hanging out with kids his age. Socialization was an important part of his development, and at the end of the day, it was all about Jack.

  She opened the back door of her SUV. Jack smiled and clapped his hands as she unfastened him, then lifted him out. He was a happy, wiggling bundle. She set him on the ground, then took his hand and locked her car.

  “This is going to be great,” she told him, hoping she wasn’t lying. “You’ll see. There will be lots of kids and enrichment and you’re going to love it.”

  They walked to the main doors and went inside. There was a small reception area with an unmanned desk to the left and a hallway leading to several large rooms. As she watched, a boy about four wandered down the hall and no one seemed to notice.

  Jack started after him. Jen picked him up.

  “We’re going to wait here for our appointment with Angela,” she said cheerfully.

  Two minutes later she still hadn’t seen an adult, so she started going from room to room. The first two were empty. The third had about fifteen toddlers with only two adults. The noise level was astonishing and chaos reigned.

  “Hello,” she called. “I’m looking for Angela.”

  One of the women glanced up. “Her office is at the end of the hall. Aaron, no, don’t throw the truck.”

  “Thanks.” Jen glanced over her shoulder. “There’s a little boy wandering around out here by himself.”

  The two women exchanged a look. One rolled her eyes and started out of the room. Just then one of the little boys hit another with a decent-sized toy truck. The blow landed squarely across the bridge of the nose and blood erupted along with shrieks of pain.

  “Aaron, what did you do? I’ve told you and told you.”

  Jen backed out of the room as the other children joined in the crying. Jack clung to her, looking worried.

  No way, she thought grimly. This wasn’t day care, this was a badly run institution.

  They returned to their SUV. Jen called Angela and got put directly to her voice mail. She left a message, canceling her appointment, then looked at the address of the second place she wanted to visit.

  The Learning Academy of Mischief Bay was also accredited and had plenty of parent recommendations, but it was smaller. Jen had been worried there wouldn’t be sufficient staff, but it wasn’t like the bigger place had enough people around.

  What she wanted to do was drive straight home, to the safety of Jack’s ordinary world. But Kirk’s words still burned, so she told herself she would give the second place five minutes and then she could be done.

  The drive from one day care center to the other took less than ten minutes. This time she found herself in a quiet, residential part of town. The house with the sign in front was across from the playground at Founders Park. There were plenty of trees and nice lawns. The homes were older, but well kept.

  Once again she collected Jack and walked to the front door. She rang the bell and was stunned when she heard a dog bark. Who on earth allowed a dog in a day care center? What if the kids were allergic? What if the dog bit someone?

  She nearly turned back to her car, but before she could bolt, the door opened and a middle-aged woman smiled at her. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Jen Beldon and this is my son, Jack. Our appointment is at eleven, so we’re a little early.” Like forty-five minutes early, but Jen wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

  “Of course. I’m Rose. Come on in.”

  Jen carried Jack inside.

  What had been the living room had been turned into a play area. The big, open space had large windows and a thick mat on the floor. There were shelves filled with toys, a large television against one wall and lots of seating. Small chairs and low sofas, beanbag chairs and a few kid-sized rocking chairs.

  “This is one of our play areas,” Rose explained. “We have movie afternoons on Monday and Thursday. Otherwise, there’s no TV allowed. Our philosophy is that of gentle scheduling.” She laughed. “Our goal is to stick to a schedule, but we’re dealing with children under the age of five, so we have to be flexible.”

  Just then a midsize, blue heeler trotted into the room. He had an expressive face, with two brown “eyebrows” and a happy, doggy grin. Despite his wagging tail, Jen instinctively took a step back. Rose motioned for the dog to move closer to her.

  “This is Buddy.” Rose turned to the dog. “Buddy, can you say hello?”

  Buddy raised a paw and gave a low woof. Jen held on to Jack.

  “Is it safe having a dog in the house with so many children? What if he bites someone?”

  “I certainly understand your concern,” said Rose, laying a protective hand on Buddy’s head. “He was a service dog for three years. The little girl he was helping passed away and he was devastated. The family and I are friends, so I offered to take Buddy. He’s great with the kids here.”

  Which all sounded fine and well, Jen thought suspiciously, but didn’t answer her question.

  Rose showed her the dining room that had been converted into a lunch area for the children with smaller-scale tables and chairs. The kitchen looked clean enough. What would have been the family room was also a play area. Jen saw about six toddlers with two caregivers. There were several puzzles on the floor. Outside was a big backyard with plenty of play equipment, large trees, grass and a shady area. Another five or six children played outside and there were two more caregivers with them.

  “You’re using a lot of your house for day care,” she murmured, putting Jack down so he could join the puzzle group.

  “My own children are long grown and my husband passed away,” Rose told her. “I built an apartment upstairs. I live there and the downstairs is for my business.”

  Jack walked over and sat down. He reached for a puzzle piece. One of the helpers, a woman in her early twenties, Jen would guess, smiled at him.

  “Hi. I’m Holly. Who are you?”

  “He doesn’t talk,” Jen said quickly. “Not yet.”

  Holly nodded. “That’s okay. You’ll talk when you’re ready. Do you like puzzles? I do. This piece is red.”

  “Everyone who works for me has a background in either education or early childhood development.” Rose pointed to an older woman outside with the other kids. “Mary’s been with me nearly ten years. She raised eight children herself, then worked a couple of other places before coming here. Holly is getting her master’s in early childhood development. She works here part-time.”

  Rose talked about how their days were structured and the various programs they offered. A lady came in three mornings a week and taught Mandarin. An older gentleman came and played various musical instruments every Monday and Thursday. But Jen wasn’t really listening. Instead she saw that the walls were scuffed and the windows could use a good washing.

  She wanted to head back to the kitchen and look at the counters. Were they really clean? Had she seen a jar of peanut butter? Because everyone knew that young children should avoid peanuts. And that dog. She didn’t care what Buddy had done before—he was an animal. If a child pulled his tail, he would react.

  The little boy next to Jack sneezed. Jen moved toward her son and scooped him up.

  She was sure there were sensible questions she was supposed to be asking. On the surface the place was great—if she ignored the dog, the peeling paint and the sick kid.

  She
felt the familiar tightness in her chest. The one that made it hard to breathe.

  Not here, she told herself. She couldn’t have a panic attack. Not right now. Later, when she was home. Later, when she was safe. She couldn’t do this, she thought desperately. She couldn’t leave her child alone in a place like this.

  “I have to go,” she said, fighting to keep her breath as her chest got tighter and tighter.

  Rose looked confused. “Don’t you want to fill out an application?” she asked. “I’m going to have an opening in a few weeks. Usually I have a waiting list, but right now I don’t.”

  Jen clutched Jack to her chest. “I, ah, need to talk to my husband. And think about it. I’m just not sure.”

  She bolted for the door. Rose followed.

  “Are you all right?” the other woman asked with concern.

  Jen nodded and ran to her car. She got Jack into his car seat, then started the engine. She punched the buttons on the radio until she found the happy children’s music Jack liked and turned up the volume. Only then did she start gasping for air.

  Her throat was so tight. Her whole body hurt. Tears burned her eyes as she sucked in air.

  She told herself she was fine. That she could breathe. That nothing was wrong. Only she knew she was lying. Everything was wrong—and no one would believe her.

  * * *

  What are you doing?

  Pam stared at her phone. There was nothing untoward about the message, yet she still felt a strange combination of guilty and naughty as she answered.

  Reading.

  Would you like some company?

  She dropped the phone on the sofa, picked it up again, put it back down, then pressed a pillow against her face and screamed into the soft fabric. Lulu jumped to her feet and stared at her.

  “I’m fine,” she assured her dog. “It’s just... Never mind.”

  Still looking wary, Lulu curled back up on the sofa.

  Pam and Miguel had been texting every day or so since their dinner together. She refused to call it by the other D word, despite what Shannon had said. It had been dinner and talking with, ah, the father of a friend. Nothing more.

  Even so, her fingers trembled as she typed, sure.

  I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll bring the limes.

  Limes? What did that mean? Was it code for—She groaned. It wasn’t code for anything. The man’s family made tequila. He probably always had limes on him.

  She stood and stared at Lulu. “We’re going to have company.”

  The little dog scrambled to her feet, as if she understood the urgency of the situation, if not the particulars.

  Pam scanned her living room. The condo wasn’t large—just two bedrooms, a living room and kitchen/dining area. She’d been used to taking care of a much larger place and had no trouble keeping up with the cleaning. She’d dusted and vacuumed just the day before. The guest bath was tidy, the kitchen picked up. There was really nothing for her to do.

  She glanced at Lulu. The Chinese crested had on a simple silver T-shirt with the word Princess on the back, in shiny letters. Perhaps not Miguel’s style, but then she wasn’t asking him to wear it. As for herself...

  She glanced down, then shrieked again and bolted for her bedroom. She was in a ratty old T-shirt and shorts. While her legs were toned, they were pale and there were a few veins. In her regular life, this didn’t bother her, but for some reason, she was suddenly determined to cover up.

  She quickly changed into ankle-length pants and a fitted tank top, then threw on a matching, lightweight, tailored short-sleeved shirt. She left her feet bare, but touched up her makeup, then went into the kitchen and wondered if she should put out some kind of snack.

  She tried to figure out how much time had passed. No way she could throw some snacky thing together. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was a planned meeting. She couldn’t be responsible for providing food with no warning.

  She’d just about talked herself out of panic when she heard a knock on the door. Lulu gave a little announcement bark, then trotted to the front door, her tail wagging. Pam sucked in a breath, told herself everything was fine, then opened the door.

  “Pamela.”

  The obvious delight in Miguel’s voice, the sight of him in worn jeans and a relatively subdued Hawaiian shirt, while looking all manly and handsome, did a number on her breathing. Or maybe she was having a hot flash. She wasn’t sure. She had to clear her throat before she could speak.

  “Ah, Miguel. Come in.”

  He smiled at her, then crouched down, offering his fingers to Lulu. “Not until you introduce me to this beautiful girl.”

  “This is Lulu.”

  Miguel stroked the side of her face. The Chinese crested let her eyes sink closed for a second before offering a kiss. Pam was almost jealous—the man did have a way with women, she thought. Not that she was interested in that sort of thing. It was simply... All right. Fine. She had no idea what it was, so she would ignore it.

  Miguel stepped into her condo and crossed to the large French doors. Beyond the balcony was the boardwalk, then sand, then ocean for as far as the eye could see.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “You must enjoy watching the ocean and her many moods.”

  “I do. I lived in a house for years, so I wasn’t sure how I would adjust to condo living. Sometimes I feel like my place is a little small but this makes it all worthwhile.”

  He turned and she saw he had a leather backpack hanging from one shoulder. He took it off and smiled. “I come prepared.” He pointed to the kitchen. “May I?”

  She nodded, not sure what he was going to do.

  Once in her kitchen, he set the backpack on the island counter, then opened it. Inside was a bottle of his family’s tequila, several limes, Cointreau and a martini shaker. She started to laugh.

  “Seriously? You take that with you everywhere you go?”

  “Not everywhere, but many places. Now I need a cutting board and some ice. It’s nearly five o’clock.”

  She got him what he requested. As she filled her small ice bucket, she found a box of frozen mini quiches and pulled them out. If they were going to be drinking tequila, she was going to need food.

  While the oven preheated, Miguel crossed to Lulu and lifted her into his arms. He held her easily—not a surprise. He had a small dog himself and would be used to the delicate bones. He cradled her, supporting her and patting her at the same time. Lulu relaxed into the attention.

  He took up more space than Pam was used to. Except for her sons, she’d never had a man over to her place and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Part of her wanted to keep her distance while the rest of her wanted to move closer. Of course, the thought of being too close made her uncomfortable, so she was well and truly confused.

  “Have you thought about our dinner?” he asked.

  “Some.”

  He raised his eyebrows, as if questioning her honesty.

  She sighed. “All right. Yes, I have.”

  “Good. I have, as well. You are a beautiful and interesting woman, Pamela.”

  She laughed. “Oh, please. There’s no need to turn on the charm like that.”

  “You think I’m not telling the truth? How do you see yourself?”

  A question that had her totally stumped. How did she see herself? She was a mother, a friend, a wife—although that last role was different now. As for how Miguel had described her, she honestly didn’t know what to make of that.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, “and I’m not sure I want to. You’re very charming and while that’s fun, I don’t know what you want or expect from me.”

  She thought that even if they were dating—which they weren’t—it was way too soon to be having this conversation. Still, she couldn’
t seem to stop herself.

  “I was married over thirty years. Being with John is all I know. I’m his wife and that is never going to change.”

  Miguel continued to hold Lulu. “I don’t want you to be other than you already are. The person you are today is the woman I find so intriguing. What are you afraid of? Losing your past? You can’t. John is with you always. He is a part of you.”

  Not anything she expected. “If you get that, then why are you here?”

  “Because you still have a future, Pamela. Many years ahead of you. I’d like to get to know you better. See where this leads. Now that I understand you haven’t felt ready to date, I’ll go more slowly.” He flashed her a smile. “I’m old enough to appreciate the power of anticipation.”

  But I’m not interested in you in that way. That was what she meant to say. What she should say. Because she wasn’t. Other men weren’t on her radar. She wasn’t looking for anything other than what she had.

  Only she couldn’t seem to speak the words. She was confused and sad, but also fighting a very real flicker of, if not hope, then maybe expectation. Miguel reminded her of the best part of her marriage. The connection. Being a part of something. Knowing someone. She hadn’t thought she would ever go there again and maybe she still wouldn’t. But refusing to consider the possibility no longer seemed so important.

  The oven dinged. She slid in the tray of mini quiches. Miguel set Lulu down and walked to the sink. After washing his hands, he turned to her.

  “I’m going to teach you how to make a margarita.”

  “I know how.”

  The smile returned. “You only think you do. Believe me. I’m a professional. There are secrets that will leave you amazed.”

  “Highly unlikely, but sure. You can try.”

  He laughed. “You’re not easy, are you?”

  “No. I’m also confused and wary, just so you know.”

  His humor faded. He moved close and stared into her eyes. “Be comfortable saying no, Pamela. At the same time, be comfortable saying yes. Every now and then life gives us an unexpected opportunity. How sad to walk away without sampling what is offered.”