by Cheryl Wyatt
“Oh. Is he helping that person?”
“Yes.” Bri let the curtain fall back as Ian and his crew met the flight medics rushing the stretcher their way.
“Oh.” Tia nodded. Then went back to playing with the pup.
“Your dad has a very important job, you know. He saves people’s lives for a living.”
“But his job is supposed to be a dad, too.”
“He’s still your dad, even when he’s at work.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.” She shrugged. “He promised to work less. But he works a lot. My mom breaks promises, too.”
“When did your dad tell you he’d work less?”
“At Make-A-Zoo.”
“Give him a chance, Tia. I really think your dad is the kind of person who keeps his promises.” Watching Ian through the window, and having seen how much Tia meant to him, Bri was sure. Grouchy or not, Ian was a good dad. A bit of a worry wart, though, which reminded Bri— “Hey, Tia, how would you like to learn to swim?”
She sucked in air. “In the lake?”
“No. We never, ever go in the lake. It’s dirty and stinky with fish. And Lem got bitten by a snake last summer. So never, ever go to the lake alone, okay?”
She nodded sagely. “Where will we swim?”
“I have a huge hot tub in my sunroom. I’ll turn down the heat so it’ll be safe for you. It has bubbles that feel good against your back. You’ll love it.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Do you have shorts and a T-shirt at your house?”
She nodded, started for the door then looked back at Mistletoe. Bri smiled. “He can go with us.” Bri bundled up Tia and the puppy and they walked across the lot to Lakeview, the road next to the trauma center leading to Ian’s.
Once back, Bri set Mistletoe in his basket next to the hot tub, changed into her swimsuit and helped Tia in.
“You swim good!” Tia said as Bri taught her to tread water.
“I was a lifeguard growing up. I give swim lessons to kids.” Within two hours, Bri had Tia swimming over and under the water. “You’re like a little fish. Good job, Tia.”
“Not a fish. A mermaid fairy, silly.”
“Oh, excuse me. You’re a mermaid fairy, are you?”
Tia giggled. Hugged Bri. “I like you. I’m glad you’re my babysitter.”
“I like you, too. I’m glad I’m your babysitter.”
Tia eyed her with longing. “I really wish...” Tia trailed off. The wistful look disappeared into a face that looked too scared to hope. But for what? What had Tia been about to say?
A part of Bri decided she might be better off not knowing. They got out and dried off.
Carrying the contented puppy extra carefully, Tia went to the window where Bri had watched the helicopter land hours ago. “I wonder if that person is okay now?”
“I wonder that, too.”
“What do you think happened to them?”
“I’m not sure. But I am sure that, since your dad is taking care of them, they’re in the best hands possible.”
“Grandma told me to pray when I see a ambulance.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Is the helicopter a ambulance with fairy wings?”
Bri smiled. “Sort of. Would you like to pray for the person who was inside it?”
Tia nodded, and Bri led them through a prayer for God to help the trauma crew save whoever had been brought. Remembering her mom’s passing on a holiday, Bri realized that for one local family, Christmas Day would either end in miracle or tragedy.
Eagle Point was a small town. Likely she knew the person.
While they didn’t have a local newspaper, Eagle Point did have four young men who’d started Four Guys, a Dog and a Blog. An up-to-the-minute live newsfeed of local happenings. It was more reliable than the news. Bri didn’t want to get on the computer with Tia here, though. She’d check later, or ask Ian.
Regardless, her heart went out to whoever had been in that helicopter. And for the loved ones probably frantic with worry and fear now.
She prayed for this family that hope would prevail over tragedy.
* * *
Another drowning victim.
This one, a toddler at a Christmas party where everyone thought someone else was watching him. They’d saved his life...but barely. Monstrous, pulsating fear gripped Ian that Bri’s deck was only yards away from Eagle Point Lake.
Compounding it was the fact that his parents had an unfenced pond in their yard. He’d tell them to either put a fence up or drain the pond before next weekend, when his mom asked to have Tia.
Seeing that child come in gray and lifeless today made Ian long to rush home—to Bri’s, rather—hug Tia and never let go. Every day was a day he’d never get back with her and he’d missed far too much time already. “Mitch, I need to cut back on hours. At least one day a week for Tia.”
Mitch nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” Ian left, his feet moving like NASCAR wheels over asphalt to Bri’s cabin. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again.
And again. Harder. Had Bri taken pain meds and fallen asleep? Tia had figured out the locks that day at Ellie’s, which meant she could figure out Bri’s, too. Heart pounding, fear coursing through him, Ian pushed open the door. “Hello?”
No answer. Total dead silence.
He ran through the house, then outside. Silence greeted him there, too, beneath a sepia sunset. Its muted glow hid behind thick, gunmetal clouds brewing a winter storm and causing the lake to look as dull and lifeless as that little boy’s eyes.
Then suddenly, unexplainably, he’d improved. Started breathing on his own. Mitch called it amazing.
Little boy was on a ventilator still, but because someone at home knew CPR, Ian was confident the little guy would make it. Hopefully without brain problems from lack of oxygen.
Ian’s thoughts drove him into a sheer panic. Silence entombed the lake. The yard. The house. Fear gripped his chest like a vise, making it hard to pull air into his lungs. He rushed down Bri’s deck steps and relaxed a measure when he saw no one near the lake. Unless...
He walked faster, around the lake’s edge.
Unless Bri had fallen asleep and Tia wandered off. “Tia? Bri?” Ian fought pandemonium inside his mind.
He jogged back up Bri’s deck steps, calling their names. He walked briskly through her living room to a sunroom. Relief washed over him when he heard a woman’s voice mingle with a child’s giggle, then raucous laughter. Wait. Tia actually laughing? This he had to see. He followed the sounds of singsongs, laughter...
And splashing? Yes. He definitely heard splashing.
He rounded the corner and froze.
Tia and Bri were shoulder deep in a big, bubbly hot tub, face-to-face, playing some kind of clapping game and singing.
He stepped down the skid-free sunroom tile. “Tia?” Where was her life jacket? How was she staying afloat?
The pair stopped singing and eyed him with frozen expressions, which made him realize he needed to cool his jets.
Bri waved from the hot tub. “Hi.” She raised her casted arm, demonstrating that she’d covered the cast in plastic and taped the ends to keep water from getting inside. As if she was afraid he’d scold her.
Tia splashed to the edge nearest him. “I can swim! Miss Bri learned me!” Tia scrambled up the steps, dripping water on the aqua-blue tile.
“Taught,” Bri corrected. Then stood and got out of the hot tub, as well.
Bri’s cheeks tinged pink until she grabbed her robe and shrugged it on, belting it at her waist.
Ian focused on helping Tia with her towel. “Where are your arm floaty things?” He looked around.
“I don’t need them. Miss
Bri taught me how to swim. I can even go in over my head and stay there as long as a fish!”
If that was supposed to make Ian feel better, it didn’t. He rose as Bri approached him, eyeing him with determination.
She leaned in, presumably to be out of Tia’s earshot, and said, “Take a chill pill, Ian. I was a lifeguard and swim instructor every summer until two years ago when Mom got sick.”
He nodded. Calmed himself down. Tried not to notice how deep the water level was on that hot tub, and how the temperature could easily dehydrate a child Tia’s size.
He’d discuss that with Bri later.
But, of course, she’d know, having a child-care degree. Sure enough, a glimpse at the thermometer read a safe level for children. Bri must’ve turned the heat down. He met her gaze.
Hers was solemn but understanding. “I knew how bad it scared you when you realized how close I am to the lake and when you learned she couldn’t swim.” She peeled the plastic off her arm.
Ian discarded it for her, listening as she continued.
“You don’t need to stress. She needs to learn, in case she ever encounters water and doesn’t understand the danger. Or happens to be at a pool party and accidentally falls in.”
Like the toddler today.
Ian nodded, respect blooming anew for her. “You’re right. It’s better she learn to swim than for me to keep her shielded from water. Sorry.”
“I understand. Your concern means you care. She gets that.”
He eyed Tia, dressing into a clean set of clothes. “How did you get those?”
Bri shrugged. “Tia said you leave a key under your planter. We took a walk to your place. It was good exercise. Besides, Tia wanted to see where you worked again, so I walked her by there and showed her.”
“Thanks for watching her, Bri. And for teaching her to safely swim. I also appreciate being able to depend on you for night calls.”
“My pleasure. I figured with you being the only anesthesiologist, that you have to go in. Can you tell me what happened to the person who came in?”
“You don’t want to know. But he made it.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you’re a doctor, Ian. I know how you helped me the day of the ladder mishap.” Kindness and respect in her eyes made him forget what they were even talking about. When was the last time he’d seen those two things reflected toward him in a woman’s eyes? Not for a long time.
“Speaking of ladder mishap, I determined what caused it.”
“I’m all ears, not that I’ll ever climb it when alone,” she said ruefully, while helping Tia dry her hair. Mistletoe chewed on the end of Tia’s towel. Ian almost smiled at the puppy’s antics.
Then stopped himself. He refused to get attached to it.
Or to Bri. Yet he had a feeling it was too late. Especially if she kept feeding him compliments and that pup kept flashing him soulful puppy eyes the color of the hazelnut coffee he loved so much.
Ian faced Bri. “You placed the ladder in the path of trickling water on a day the temperature dropped to thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit.”
Bri grew quiet. She’d frozen, as the water must have under her ladder’s legs that day. “So that’s what caused it to slide?”
He nodded. “Seems you set the ladder on concrete, below a lawn hose dribbling water downhill.”
Her whole face lit up like a lightbulb moment. “Yes. I had the hose dripping to try and save it from freezing and cracking.” She nibbled her lip. “But it seems I cracked my arm instead. Not too smart, huh?”
“I think you’re very smart. I think you just had a lot on your mind that led to a momentary lapse in judgment.”
She reached for a casserole from her fridge. Ian helped her put it in the oven. “It smells like pure culinary delight.”
“I made extra so you’d have a couple of servings. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it back in time to make dinner for you and Tia, so I took care of dinner for you.” She rubbed her nose. Her voice warbled a bit. “The meal is—was—Mom’s Christmas casserole. It’s like a shepherd’s pie in Christmas colors, green beans and tomato sauce for... I’m blathering. Sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s perfectly okay. I know you miss her.” Ian had the strongest urge to tug her in for a hug. But his arms wouldn’t work. Besides that, she might take it the wrong way. She cleared her throat twice, which was when he realized she fought tears. “Tough day.”
And before he knew it, he’d wrapped an arm around her and hauled her in close. She blinked surprise and stiffened. He gave her a quick squeeze and let her go.
He took a healthy step back, emotions churning inside at the core of who he was.
Almost as though the hug, fast as it was, had bolstered him as much as it had her. Emotion thickened in her eyes. “Thanks.”
“You’re good with children, Bri,” he said to her.
She blinked, all befuddled, as if she’d never heard a compliment before.
“Thanks, Ian. Considering I want to be a mom someday, that helps.”
“You’ll make a good one.”
Her face grew so welcoming it reminded him of coming home to the crackle of a warm fireplace and a rich cup of hot cocoa.
Looking into her eyes felt like sinking his teeth into inch-thick caramel on the sweetest apple in the world. He looked around and realized she and Tia actually had made candy apples that probably matched Bri’s sweet demeanor.
Her entire character opened up like literal arms of friendship. Her hospitable personality mesmerized like a superlit haven on a dark night in a dismal sea. And all he wanted to do was drift toward it. Toward her.
Ian blinked away the images. The silly notions and the need for more moments like this. He didn’t have time for cozy. And he didn’t have the heart to dream anymore. Not for himself.
He only wanted to make life better for Tia and give her the love, protection and security she so badly needed and deserved.
Tia rushed up in a multi-colored tutu brighter than Sully’s rainbow sherbet. “Tia, how many of those things do you have, anyway?” She wore a different one every day.
“It’s what Mommy always bought me with your birthday money. Every tutu I have is ’cause of you.”
Surprise went through him. Wow. All the checks he’d sent hadn’t gone to waste.
“So you got the cards I sent?”
Tia looked away. “Sorta. I found them in the trash where she threw them away...along with pretty pictures I drawed her.” Tia’s face looked as if she were unsure she should’ve shared that.
Anger boiled inside Ian, but he tamped it down for Tia’s sake. He dipped his face to her eye level. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Tia shook her head. “No. It’s not.”
Smart kid. Not that he was bragging or proud or anything. Ian’s chest swelled. “I’m sorry about the cards. I’m just glad you got the money.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Hey, kiddo. You have nothing to be sorry about. None of this is your fault. Okay?”
She eyed him ashamedly, almost sheepish. “I meant I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
Know what? That he cared? That he’d sent gifts every week for years and extravagant things for holidays? Letters at least three times a week? Did she know any of it?
Or had Ava trashed it all and led his daughter to assume he never thought of her? She was all he could think about. Then and now. Did she know he loved her more than anything on earth? Did she know?
He scrubbed a hand over her hair. “You will.”
Ian’s eyes veered to Bri’s fridge, where Tia’s artwork was displayed. He felt a twinge of jealousy that Bri had received Tia’s handiwork ahead of him. But her artwork, like her trust, was something he was going to have to figure out how to earn.
Chapter
Eight
“Do you think he’ll like it?” Tia asked Bri at her coffee table the day after Christmas, shortly after Ian dropped her off.
Bri smiled at Tia’s colored-pencil masterpiece and recalled Ian looking wistfully at the artwork hanging on her fridge. “I’m certain he will love it.”
“Do you even know what it is?” Tia’s gaze narrowed.
“Um, well, that’s a stand of trees.”
“They’re naked. Just like yours.”
Bri yelped a laugh. “Tia, we shouldn’t say that word.”
“Why? It only means they don’t got their leaves.”
“Have.” So that’s why Tia had told Boom about her trees. Bri hadn’t noticed Tia talking to Boom as much since getting Mistletoe. Bri eyed the pup, curled by the fireplace, paws prancing in his sleep.
“The air looks funny outside.” Tia went to Bri’s window.
“They say it might snow.”
Tia whirled. “Yay! I hope so. I love snow!”
“Really? What a coincidence! I do, too.”
Bri went to look outside and saw Ian’s truck pulling up the drive. “Your dad’s here.”
“He’s not much like a dad.” Yet Tia scrambled to finish her picture, anyway. Bri wished Tia would refer to him as Dad more. Only when her defenses were down did Bri ever hear her say it. “Tia, I like when you refer to him as your dad. I wish—”
“Block him!” Tia shot to the playroom puppet stage with the paper and box of coloring utensils.
Bri laughed. “You mean stall him? He’s too big to block.” The thought of trying to keep the tall, dark and heavily muscled ex-military guy back even an inch humored Bri.
Bri’s new phone rang. Ian’s handsome face displayed on the screen, making Bri grin. She realized that he’d taken time to load her phone and put himself as the emergency contact. Undoubtedly so no one would call Caleb while deployed. Ian’s thoughtfulness warmed her heart. She wasn’t the only one Ian was protecting.
Bri tried to keep the smile and emotion out of her voice as she swiped the answer function as he’d shown her. “Hello?”
“Hey, is Tia close by?”