by Katie Meyer
Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, she tried to find somewhere else to focus her attention and spotted Owen pulling one of his socks off. Again. “Owen, stop! We need to leave soon. You have to keep your socks on.” She cringed at the hint of desperation in her voice, but this was not the way she’d wanted today to start.
Undeterred, Owen threw the offending item on the floor and moved to the other foot. “They can’t wear them, they hurt.”
Luke said nothing, but Megan felt the weight of his presence as she scooped up the socks and turned them right-side out again. Eyeing the clock, she took a deep breath and started over. “Let me see if I can get them on so they don’t hurt, okay?”
Owen considered her words, the stubborn set of his jaw reminding her so much of his father. He had hated accepting help, too. Shaking off the thought, she focused on the task at hand. “I bet I can do it super quick, and then we can get going to church.”
His frown deepened. “No, I don’t want you to do it.”
She sighed and looked at Luke. “I’m sorry. He has sensory issues, and if the seams of his socks aren’t just right, he refuses to walk. I’ve gotten good at getting them on for him, but lately he’s been wanting to do it himself. I’m proud of his independence but—” she waved the discarded socks “—it means we have a bit of trouble being on time.”
“Gotcha.” Luke nodded in understanding and then crouched next to Owen on the floor. “Hey, I get it, you’re a big guy now, and you don’t like having to ask your mom for help, right?”
Owen gave a small nod.
“That’s cool. But if someone else helped you, just a little bit—maybe another guy—that would probably be okay, right? I mean it’s good for guys to stick together, to help each other out, like on a team, you know?”
Owen considered this for a moment. “Like a soccer team?”
“Uh-huh. Or like a group of explorers, or a team of firefighters working together, helping each other.”
Owen eyes widened. “Or in the military, like my dad. My mom says he helped lots of people.”
Megan swallowed hard. She hated that Owen only had secondhand memories of his father, but at least they were good ones. She tried hard to make sure Tim’s presence was kept alive as much as possible, but photographs and family stories were a poor stand-in for a flesh-and-blood parent.
“Exactly. Real men know it is important to help each other. And to let others help them. When there is an important job to be done, you can’t let pride stand in the way.”
Megan wasn’t sure Owen could fully grasp the wisdom Luke was trying to impart, but something must have hit home because, after a moment’s consideration, he reached to take the crumpled socks from her and held them out to Luke. “Okay, you can help.”
Startled by the request, Megan moved to take over. “No, Owen, honey, he meant you should let me help you.”
Luke motioned her back. “Nah, I got this. One guy helping another. Teamwork. Right, Owen?”
Owen nodded and eagerly held up one foot. Obviously, her assistance wasn’t needed, or wanted, and as she watched Luke carefully align the seams of her son’s socks, she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Part of her was grateful for Luke’s skillful intercession. They might actually make it to church on time now, a minor miracle in itself. And it was a good thing for Owen to be able to put his trust in another adult. His therapist had often mentioned the importance of male role models, but it was still a bit bittersweet to have her son choose someone else over her. She’d just have to get over herself, though. This kind of progress was exactly why she worked so hard. Any small pangs of jealousy were nothing compared to the strides Owen was making.
Seemed he was making more of those lately, and his ever-patient principal was a major reason. That realization, and the fresh coffee, helped her wash down any remaining angst over her son’s newfound independence.
“Do they feel okay now?” Luke asked.
Owen stomped up and down a few times, and grinned. “They don’t hurt.”
Luke, still sitting on the floor, beamed up at him. “Of course not. I told you I could fix it. Next time, I’ll show you how to fix them yourself. But for now, I think it’s time to leave.” He glanced up at Megan for confirmation.
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
Propelling himself upright with athletic grace, he shrugged off her compliment and headed for the front door with Owen and Lily.
Automatically, Megan grabbed her keys and followed, her brain focused on one single question. Today was the end of the experiment, so what had he meant by next time?
* * *
Everything seemed to be going well, right up until the vomit started.
Despite the delay caused by Owen’s sock situation, they had arrived early enough for Luke to spend a few minutes chatting with Owen’s Sunday school teacher, while observing Lily’s behavior in a class setting.
Again, the dog impressed him, sitting or lying calmly at her young master’s side, staying calm in the midst of a roomful of children. And Mrs. Dunn, the teacher—an older, no-nonsense woman in a floral dress and sensible shoes—had insisted that Lily was never any trouble, and that since the dog had started coming, Owen had fewer meltdowns in class. Megan had kept quiet, but her smug smile and raised eyebrow had telegraphed “I told you so” better than words could have.
They had found seats at the back of the church, in a mostly empty pew. A few people he knew from work had waved a surprised hello, but no one pointed out that he hadn’t exactly been a frequent visitor. Then the choir started and he found himself too busy paying attention to worry about what people were thinking, seeing him and Megan together. He even enjoyed the sermon, especially when the pastor talked about how helping others was not only a duty but a true purpose. As a teacher, he could relate.
All in all, the entire morning seemed to be flowing smoothly. But just as the last hymn was ending, a panicked-looking teenager appeared in the aisle beside their pew. Pointing to Megan, she motioned for Luke to get her attention.
He hated to disturb her. As she sang, her eyes held a peace he hadn’t seen before, but there was a good chance this was about Owen. Reluctantly, he tapped her elbow and tried his best to ignore the jolt of heat at the innocent contact.
Turning, her eyes widened at the sight of the teen. “Laura, what’s wrong?”
The girl replied in a whisper, whether out of reverence for the service or a sense of privacy, he didn’t know. Either way, it was impossible to hear her over the music. Megan moved closer, pressing into him in the confines of the pew as she indicated for Laura to repeat herself.
Understanding, the teen raised her voice, this time speaking loud enough to be heard over a jet engine, let alone the choir. That would have been fine if the choir hadn’t finished the selection before poor Laura finished her sentence, informing him, Megan and the entire congregation that, “Owen puked everywhere!”
A strained silence filled the room as the two looked at each other, Laura’s face flushing red in contrast to Megan’s sudden paleness. Both looked mortified, but he knew Megan’s real concern was for her son, not her own embarrassment. Thankfully, the pastor, upon realizing that whatever illness had occurred wasn’t in the actual sanctuary, directed the congregation to bow heads in prayer, efficiently diverting the curious stares aimed in their direction.
“I’ve got to go,” Megan whispered, already attempting to squeeze past him.
“I’m coming, too.” She might need help if Owen was that sick, and he figured half a church service was plenty to start with, given his long absence. No need to overdo it.
Together they made their way out of the sanctuary and along a covered walkway to the building where the Sunday school classes were held. They found Owen sitting by himself at a table in the back of his classroom, Lily pressed firmly against him. The other students were coloring pictures of an ark and chatting a
mong themselves.
“Oh good. Laura found you.” Mrs. Dunn showed none of the teen volunteer’s angst, only grandmotherly concern. He imagined that she’d seen her fair share of sick children and got the sense that nothing short of a plague of biblical proportions would fluster her. “Poor Owen isn’t feeling very well, and I’m sure he’d rather be home than here. Probably one of those twenty-four-hour things. My grandchildren were both down with it last week. Hits hard but passes fast, and really, that’s better than something that lingers, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” Luke agreed politely, as Megan checked her son over. “We’ve had a few kids in Owen’s grade out with something, as well. It seems to be going around.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it’s something short-lived, at least.” Megan took hold of Lily’s leash and placed a hand on Owen’s forehead, smoothing away the hair from his pale face. “And I’m sorry about the mess. If I’d known he was sick, I would have kept him at home. I can help you clean up before we go.”
“Nonsense. I’ve already taken care of that. You just get that boy home and in bed. And don’t blame yourself. Little boys never admit to feeling sick. They just go-go-go until they can’t anymore. I had four of them, so I know.”
“Thank you,” Megan replied as she guided a very subdued Owen toward the door. “For everything.”
“No thanks necessary. And if you need anything, you give the Paradise Inter-Faith Ladies’ Auxiliary a call. The number is in the bulletin. We’d be happy to bring over some soup or to make a run to the pharmacy for you.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“Nothing wrong with accepting a bit of help. And, truth be told,” Mrs. Dunn added, her voice a bit wistful, “most of us are old ladies looking for a way to be useful. Makes us feel good to have someone to take care of. Although—” she eyed Luke with an appreciative sigh “—you seem to have all the help you need, and in a better-looking package than I can offer.”
Luke chuckled at her not so subtle appraisal. “I’ll do what I can, and if she needs reinforcements, I’ll make sure she calls.” On second thought, he doubted he could make Megan do anything. But he’d call in backup himself if he had to.
As if reading his mind, Megan tossed him a defiant glare as soon as they were outside. “I’ve been taking care of Owen by myself his whole life. I don’t need help—from you or the church ladies.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her... He did. She’d done an amazing job with Owen, on her own, as far as he could tell. Nonetheless, he heard the weariness beneath the tough words; saw the dark circles lurking under her flashing eyes. Yes, she probably could handle this and anything else by herself. But that didn’t mean she needed to, or that she should.
Like it or not, Megan Palmer was going to learn that she wasn’t on her own anymore. He’d said he would be her friend, and he didn’t go back on his word.
* * *
Sighing with exhaustion as much as relief, Megan slipped out of Owen’s room, careful to leave the door partially cracked open in case he called for her. The house was quiet, and she wondered if Luke had finally left. He’d driven her car home from church so that she could sit in the back with Owen. Then, instead of leaving, as she’d expected him to do—like she told him to do—he’d opened the door for her and followed her inside.
Six long hours later and he was still there. At least, he had been when she’d finally gotten Owen settled enough to fall asleep. Luke had left only once, just long enough to run to the store to pick up soup, crackers, and Pedialyte. He’d even thought to grab a sandwich from the deli for her and then insisted she sit and eat it while he read Owen a story. Making her way down the hall, she found herself hoping he hadn’t left and admonishing herself for caring. Owen was out of the woods. There was no reason for Luke to stay any longer.
Yet he had. She found him in the kitchen surveying the contents of the refrigerator while fresh coffee hissed and sputtered its way through the ancient machine on her counter into the nearly full carafe below. Her heart skipped a beat. He’d stayed and he’d made coffee. To a caffeine addict like Megan, it was the sexiest thing he could have done. What would it be like to have a man like this around full-time, puttering in the kitchen, making her coffee?
As quickly as the thought came, she shooed it away. That kind of life wasn’t part of her reality anymore. Never had been. When she and Tim had been married, he’d been deployed more than he’d been home, and had made excuses about helping in the kitchen, claiming he didn’t know where she kept things. That hadn’t stopped Luke, not that the men were in some kind of competition. She’d loved her husband very much, with a youthful passion that had made up for a multitude of minor differences. But time and responsibility had aged her and, in her current life, a man who knew his way around a kitchen was very much appreciated.
“Thank you. How did you know I’d want a cup of coffee?”
He grinned. “How do you know I made it for you? Maybe it’s all for me.”
She shook her head. “No way. My coffee, my coffee maker. I’d better get some.”
He laughed at her intensity. “Fine, it’s for you. I don’t usually drink it this late, but I’ve never seen you show up to a meeting at the school without a to-go cup in your hand, no matter what time it is. So I thought you might be up for some.”
Her breath hitched at the realization that he’d not only noticed her routines, but remembered them. She wasn’t sure there was anyone else alive on the planet right now that knew about her 24/7 java habit. But he did. What did it mean that he knew her so well? And trailing behind that thought was an even more sobering question. What did it mean that no one else did? How pathetic was that? And why was she overthinking something as humble and ordinary as coffee? She needed to get a grip if such a simple thing had her emotions bobbing like a boat in rough surf.
Trying to hide her reaction, Megan busied herself by grabbing the pot before it was done and pouring a cup. The hot liquid sizzled as it hit the warming plate, mocking her impatience. “Owen’s asleep. His fever broke, and it looks like Mrs. Dunn was right about it being fast to clear up. I think he’s probably out for the count.”
“Good. That means we don’t have to eat in shifts.”
“What?” She turned, mug securely in hand, pot safely back on the warming plate. “You’re staying?” She eyed the container of eggs in his hand. “And you’re cooking?” Making her coffee had been foreplay, now he was making her dinner, too? He couldn’t have done a better job of seducing her if he’d tried—which he wasn’t. If her hormones were screaming, it was a testament to the length of her dry spell, not his intentions.
“Don’t get too excited. I’m just making scrambled eggs and toast.”
Her skin warmed; she had gotten excited, but not about the food. Taking care of Owen had distracted her—vomit wasn’t exactly romantic—but now that the crisis was over, the attraction that simmered whenever Luke was around threatened to boil over. And who could blame her? The man was drop-dead gorgeous, and he had made her coffee. Even more impressive, when Owen had thrown up on the bed, it had been Luke who’d bundled up the bedding and put it in the washer while she’d given her son a bath. That level of kindness was above and beyond anything she would have expected, and a heck of a lot sexier than a bouquet of roses.
Nothing would come of it, of course. By tomorrow, life would go back to normal. For now, it couldn’t hurt to enjoy the moment, to enjoy a man cooking for her, taking care of her. Besides, he was just so nice to look at. So that’s what she did. She took her coffee to the little scratched-up table and sat and just looked her fill.
“You know,” she said after the first glorious sip. “This is the second night in a row you’ve made dinner for me. I think I’m spoiled. Tomorrow night I’m going to wander into the kitchen and be very disappointed when I realize I have to actually cook
.”
“You deserve to be spoiled a little. When’s the last time you had a night off from dinner duty?”
She shrugged. “Single parents don’t get a lot of nights off, but sometimes I order pizza, or hit the drive-through. It’s not a big deal.”
He nodded, accepting her lie.
Though the truth was, his doing all this was a very big deal. And if she didn’t convince her heart otherwise, she was headed for some very big trouble.
* * *
Luke beat the eggs more forcefully than necessary, needing some kind of outlet for the emotion running through him.
After his father died, his mother had raised him on her own. He’d thought that had given him insight, that he’d understood the challenges facing the single parents he dealt with as an educator. He knew about the financial difficulties and the logistical issues that came with working long hours to pay the bills. When it came to the emotional strain, however, he’d focused on the child’s perspective. Logical, given he’d lived that life and, of course, at work he’d naturally be concerned with his students’ issues more than their parents’.
Now, though, he was face-to-face with a parent’s side of things. Part of him wanted to call his mother right now to thank her for everything she’d done to make their house a home all on her own. But more than that, he wanted to find a way to help Megan. She said what she did wasn’t a big deal, but he’d heard the strain in her voice. He knew she was burning the candle at both ends, starting a career and taking care of Owen. That in itself was a round-the-clock job with no vacation or sick leave. And, after pouring herself into caring for her son, she had to take care of herself, too. If anything had to give, he’d bet it was that last item.