by Holly Jacobs
Abbey nodded. “That’s pink, and that’s good, but you need one more.”
He was about to go scrounge another color, but the toaster dinged, so he opened Abbey’s yogurt and started to pull out the waffles, when a noise that was the equivalent of stampeding elephants made him jump.
“We’re home,” Mickey screamed as he raced into the kitchen. “Uncle Finn, you’re here early.”
Zoe and Grace followed Mickey in. “I slept in your bed last night, kiddo.” That was a lie. Oh, he’d spent a while in Mickey’s bed before he heard Mattie, but after he gave her a dream, he’d fallen asleep next to her. Thankfully, he woke up before her and unwound himself from their mutual embrace without her waking. He couldn’t imagine what Mathilda Keith would say about him sleeping with her.
It occurred to him that he wanted more than a platonic version of sleeping with her, and he absolutely couldn’t imagine what she’d say to that revelation if he told her.
“Aunt Mattie was worried about Abbey and wanted a doctor in the house,” he finished in a rush.
“Yeah, you can fix anything.” Without waiting for a reply, Mickey ran over to his little sister and pulled her braid. “You’re not twitching....” He flopped onto the kitchen floor as if he was going to do a replay for Abbey when Mattie’s mom said, “That’s enough, Mickey. Go get changed into some clean clothes for school.”
Zoe walked over to Abbey and hugged her in a very uncharacteristic gesture. “Don’t do that again, okay?”
“I won’t,” Abbey assured her. “Uncle Finn says I gotta take my medicine till my ears aren’t sick and I’ll be all better.”
Zoe kissed Abbey’s forehead and turned to presumably go get dressed, too.
“Cup of coffee for an old woman?” Mattie’s mom asked.
“Grace, I’d definitely give an old woman coffee, but right now there seems to be a lack of them here. But maybe I could interest you?”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re a schmoozer. But I’ll take you up on it. Black, please.” He brought Abbey her waffles, and Grace her coffee.
She took a long sip then asked, “Is Mattie sleeping?”
Finn could hear Mickey charging around upstairs. “Probably not for long. It was all I could do to convince her to try to get some sleep last night. She was worried about a certain little redhead.”
“Aunt Mattie worries about us a lot,” Abbey said around a bite of waffle. “She says it’s her job to worry and then she says you gotta do your best at your job, so she worries real good.”
“Kids will do that to you,” Grace agreed. “My three turned me into a first-class worrier.”
There was truth in that statement. He could spout all the medical aspects of febrile convulsions, and yet, his background didn’t stop him from being worried enough to call in sick today. He knew his partners would have to cope and his patients be inconvenienced, but he needed to be here with Abbey and the other kids...and with Mattie. “Worry seems to come with the territory. I never was this worried when—” He cut himself off. He’d been about to say when Bridget was alive, but he didn’t want to upset Abbey, who was happily munching on her waffles.
Grace seemed to understand. “It’s different now for both you and Mattie. You’re the responsible ones, not only the aunt and uncle who can breeze in and out at will.”
He nodded. That was the difference. He felt responsible, not only for the kids, but for Mattie.
He’d been too busy establishing his practice to get seriously involved with anyone. He wasn’t ready for the responsibilities that came along with a relationship.
But this was different.
He’d had responsibilities thrust on him when Bridget died. And it wasn’t as cumbersome as he’d thought it would be. Granted, he’d thrown his whole schedule into chaos, but right now, he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than sipping coffee with Mattie’s mom as Abbey ate her waffles, her siblings thudded upstairs...and Mattie was sleeping in the bed.
The bed he’d shared with her.
Finn thought about giving Mattie a dream last night. He’d never told anyone that story before. His mother sharing dreams with him had seemed too personal to share. He’d never even told Bridget. And yet, he’d told Mattie, whose favorite place was Valley Ridge.
And if someone gave him one right now, his favorite place would be Valley Ridge, too. More specifically, it would be right here, in this house, with these people.
Last year it would have been in surgery in Buffalo.
How on earth was he going to reconcile those two very different dreams?
He wasn’t sure, but somehow he’d do it. Mattie was right, he didn’t like to lose, and he’d be damned if he started with something this important.
* * *
MATTIE WOKE UP TO THE sounds of Mickey and Zoe in their bedrooms. She checked the clock. Her mother must have brought them home to get ready for school.
She peeked in Abbey’s room and found the bed empty. She knew it probably meant Abbey was downstairs with her mother, too, but she hurried down, needing to see the little girl for herself.
She paused at the kitchen doorway and found Abbey, looking quite normal, eating a waffle. Her mom and Finn at the island with her, chatting seriously.
Then she heard Finn say, “I was never this worried—”
He cut himself off, but Mattie knew he meant to end the sentence with when Bridget was alive.
She felt sucker punched, and stepped out of the doorway a moment to recover. She didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation. Couldn’t. She didn’t want to hear what her mother and Finn were saying. Both of them were probably beside themselves with worry about the kids being left in her care. That’s probably why her mom kept the other kids last night. She didn’t think Mattie could handle the older kids and a sick Abbey.
That’s why Finn stayed, as well. No matter what he said, he blamed her.
She told herself she was being ridiculous as she had the thought. And if it were simply that, a thought, she could probably have convinced herself it was nothing. But it was a feeling. She felt as if she were letting the kids down. Even though she knew that her friend couldn’t have stopped Abbey from being sick, she felt as if Bridget would have done something more.
She felt inadequate.
And those feelings were coloring her interpretation of Finn’s words.
He’d never been as worried when Bridget was alive.
Well, the truth of the matter was, she hadn’t been as worried when Bridget was alive.
Mattie knew she was never going to measure up. No matter how she tried to fill the void in her borrowed family, she’d never be able to. Not wholly. Not fully.
Neither could Finn.
The best they could do was the best they could do.
Her brief mental scolding didn’t change her feelings, but it did make her square her shoulders and join the others in the kitchen. She immediately looked at Abbey and tried to tell if she was better.
“Aunt Mattie was a sleepyhead,” her youngest charge proclaimed.
“Aunt Mattie was up all night worrying about a certain someone,” Finn said, coming to her defense.
“Good morning, sweetie,” her mother said. “I’m going to take the kids to school, then I’m filling in at the coffee shop for you.”
“Mom, you don’t have—”
“My grandmother always said, ‘I don’t have to do anything but die and pay taxes.’ I want to. Before you came home and went to work, Rich started to teach me the business. He’s coming in this morning to work with me and give me a refresher course. I was going to be his sub, and now I’ll be yours. Taking care of kids means being able to be fluid about...well, everything. I’m here to help with that.”
Mattie thought about protesting. She thought about telling her mother that she could manage it all on her own. That she didn’t need any help. But after her brief mental scolding, she realized that her knee-jerk reaction was
an attempt to prove that she could measure up to Bridget, even though she’d already acknowledged that she never could.
The thought was freeing.
She didn’t have to be Bridget. She was just Mattie, and today, Mattie didn’t want to go into the coffee shop. She didn’t want to prove herself to anyone...not even prove herself to herself. She wanted to stay home and take care of Abbey. With that in mind, she smiled at her mother and said, “Thank you.”
Her mother set down her coffee cup with a thud and asked, “Okay, who are you and what did you do with my daughter? I thought we’d have a fight. I thought I might have to weep and whine that you never let me help you, which would make you feel guilty enough to say yes. You were never one to accept help very easily. And here you are, saying yes with no fighting, cajoling or tears?”
“Who? Mattie fighting?” Finn teased.
“Aunt Mattie says that it’s okay when I need help. That’s what aunts are for. And Mommy didn’t mind, neither. So, maybe that’s what moms are for, too.” Abbey nodded, agreeing with her own sagelike wisdom.
Tears welled up in Mattie’s eyes, but she held them in check. “That’s definitely what moms are for, and that’s why I’m going to let my mom take Zoe and Mickey to school and then go to work for me. You see, I have other plans.”
“What plans?” Abbey was well enough to look intrigued by the idea of other plans.
“Well, I’m spending the day snuggled on the couch with a certain little girl with red hair and freckles. We’re going to read books and cuddle the whole day away.”
“Can we read the rest of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?” Abbey asked.
Mattie nodded and was rewarded with one of Abbey’s radiant smiles.
“Uncle Finn, do you want to stay and cuddle me and Aunt Mattie today?” Abbey’s question was innocent, but Mattie found her cheeks warming because her question brought to mind Finn tenderly tucking her in last night. Finn whispering a dream into her ears. Finn holding her until she slept.
That’s all he’d done, right? Just held her until she’d fallen asleep. He’d probably gotten up gingerly and left then.
Right?
She’d like to think so, but she remembered stirring and feeling the solidness and warmth of Finn.
From the glint in Finn’s eyes, she was pretty sure he was thinking the same thing as he answered, “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” her mother said.
Settled was definitely not how Mattie felt.
She felt decidedly unsettled at the thought of spending a day with Finn Wallace.
* * *
FINN WATCHED MATTIE flit through the house, moving from one busywork job to the next in between taking care of Abbey. She’d read his niece countless pages about Oz. Finn had never read the actual book. It was different from the movie. He couldn’t help but make a connection between Dorothy’s quest for where she belonged and his own.
Mattie fussed over Abbey. Got her drinks she didn’t want. Made her favorite muffins. Wherever he went, she wasn’t. She flitted somewhere else.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was avoiding him.
And the fact she was doing it so well was amazing since they were the only two adults in the house with one sick child.
Mattie’s flitting was exhausting him, so he finally stepped out onto the porch in hopes that she’d sit still.
To make it look official, and because it had been weighing on him, he made a call to his attorney—a call he’d rather Mattie didn’t hear. He didn’t want to discuss the lawsuit with her today.
He looked through the window. Abbey was curled up under a mountain of blankets with the dog. Both Abbey’s and Bear’s heads were on the pillow, sound asleep. And Mattie, now that he wasn’t there driving her off, was sitting on the chair, looking as if she could fall over with exhaustion.
Her head kept nodding backward, but when it finally hit the chair, she’d jerk herself upright, as if her plan was to stay awake and watch over Abbey. All his assurances couldn’t convince her that his niece was fine.
And he couldn’t hold that against her, since he had a medical degree and couldn’t manage to convince himself, either.
He wanted nothing more than to watch over Abbey and see to it she never got sick again.
Something had changed.
He’d always been the kids’ uncle. He’d thought of himself as a benevolent relative who swept in a couple times a year for fun outings, and sent presents on the appropriate occasions. He’d sent presents because he’d miss birthdays and Christmases. He’d tossed money around, thinking that made up for it, and Bridget had let him. Bridget had loved him and believed in him. She was willing to let him play that role.
The only person to ever call him on it was Mattie.
She’d told him over and over that time meant more than all the money in the world. She’d understood that effortlessly.
She’d abandoned everything to be here for Bridget when she was sick. She’d tossed her life aside and been here, day in and day out.
Even as she got sicker, Bridget had excused his absences. She’d told him over and over that she loved him and was so proud of his career.
Mattie challenged his excuses.
And she was right.
After the kids’ father walked out, Finn should have been here. He should have looked out for Bridget and the kids. He could have stepped in and helped. Mattie knew that and thought less of him for not doing it. Hell, he thought less of himself for the way he’d acted.
Even when he sued Mattie for custody, she’d put the kids’ needs first. She’d looked out for their best interests and had let him into their lives.
In medical school they taught future doctors to keep their distance, and Finn liked to think he’d mastered the art of that, to what extent? He’d lost valuable time with his family by keeping his distance from them, as well...keeping his distance when they’d needed him most.
Mattie would never have bought into that. He knew this as sure as he knew anything. He’d seen her in action. When they were arguing about custody, she’d made some remark about how could she compete with a man who saved lives on a daily basis.
But he did it without making any emotional attachment to his patients. He’d kept that same distance from his family without meaning to...until Mattie.
And now?
Now? Now, that was the question.
He wasn’t sure how to combine his career with the kids’ needs. He didn’t know how to build a balanced life. But the way he saw it, he didn’t have an option. The kids were too important for him not to sort out a way.
And Mattie?
She required some figuring out, too.
He made his calls and came back inside to find Abbey still sleeping on the couch. He followed a muffled noise and found Mattie in the kitchen scrubbing a pan with far more oomph than necessary.
“Mattie?”
Silence.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I saw Abbey on the couch so still I went to check that she was breathing.” She rinsed the pan and put it in the drying rack, then reached into the sudsy water and pulled out another one. She attacked it with the same vigor as the first and still didn’t face him.
“She’s fine,” he said for the hundreth time. “She’s simply tired from her ordeal.”
“I know.” She stopped scrubbing. “But for a moment, when I saw her, I thought of those last moments with Bridget and...”
“Mattie.” He took the pan from her hand, dropped it in the sink and turned her around. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were filled with unshed tears that tore at him. He led her to a stool to sit down. “Bridget was sick for a long time. It’s different with Abbey.”
“I know.” She took a napkin from the holder on the counter and rolled it back and forth in her fingers. “Rationally, I know that. But that last day with Bridget... It seem
ed almost normal. Not normal, normal, but the new normal we’d established. The kids came in to see her after school, then Lily sat with her while I organized the gang and got them dinner, saw to homework. You drove in after work and stayed for a couple hours. I came in as you kissed her good-night. You said, ‘See you in a couple days’ to her, and nodded at me.”
He’d been abrupt with Mattie when she’d moved in with Bridget. “I was put out with you. I don’t even know if I realized it, or realized why,” he mused.
She stopped shredding the napkin and finally looked up at him, surprise in her eyes. “Why were you mad at me?”
“You were doing something for Bridget I couldn’t. You were there. I sent Lily and visited, but I couldn’t be with her and—” He cut himself off. “I’m sorry for that now.”
“You don’t have to be. I’ve been furious with you, too. That night, after the kids were in bed, I slept a few hours and then came to relieve Lily. Bridget opened her eyes and smiled. I told her to go to sleep. And that was it. An hour later, she made some weird watery breath sounds, then sighed. I thought, Wow, she’s okay. I don’t have to call Lily. Then I realized she hadn’t breathed again. She’d stopped. It wasn’t like some TV movie. There was no last goodbye. No final words.”
“I think she’d said all she wanted to say over those last few weeks of her life,” he assured her.
“I’m sure she did. But she was so important to me. She meant so much to me. It felt like her death should be...” She looked helpless as she tried to explain, “Bigger. Grander. Some big finale. Instead, she simply slipped away. I was so angry. And I couldn’t be angry at her. I mean, she was my best friend. I knew she didn’t want to leave. She hadn’t wanted to leave her kids, to leave me...or you. And I was mad, so the next day when you showed up—”
“I was upset that you hadn’t called me.”
“There wasn’t time. But your attitude gave me a target for my anger, and I was mad at you in return. I’ve been mad at you ever since. And when the guy brought those papers, I thought, Perfect, and was even angrier. But now...”
“Now?” he pressed.
“I’m not angry anymore. I’m scared about Abbey. I’m scared I’ll lose the kids, but I can’t help but see how much they mean to you. You’ve been here as often as you could. You’ve been here for me. You didn’t go to work today, and I’m sure that was a problem.” She shook her head. “Being angry with you is too draining. We both want what’s best for the kids. They’re loved. That’s what Bridget wanted most for them. She wanted them to have the security of knowing that they’re loved. We’ve both given them that.”