by Robin Wells
“How nice,” I say. It’s amazing how many parties and events that child has been invited to since I’ve been in the hospital. I never managed to find her any friends or connect with any mothers of three-year-olds in Alexandria. It’s yet another reason Quinn is better suited to be Lily’s guardian than I am.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring her,” Quinn says. “I had an appointment in this part of town and thought I’d go ahead and come on by.”
“I’m glad you did, dear. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” She smiles again and regards me expectantly.
My mind goes blank. I pull a little notebook from the pocket of my sweater. The occupational therapist gave it to me, and I’ve started making notes in it. I thumb through it and peer at my wobbly handwriting. Oh, yes. Now I remember. “I had a visitor this morning. Brooke’s attorney.”
Quinn’s brows rise in surprise. “Marty?”
I nod. “He was visiting a friend in the hospital and thought he’d drop in to see me while he was here.”
“How nice.”
I look at my notes again. “He said you’re already Lily’s primary guardian because I’m disabled. He wants me to sign some papers making the change permanent and transferring Lily’s monthly trust payments to you.”
“What did you say?”
“That I wanted to talk to you, dear. I wanted to make sure you’re willing to take it on.”
“Oh, yes! Of course!” She reaches over and takes my hand, her eyes full of emotion. “I love Lily as if she were my very own.”
I already knew this; seeing them together here in New Orleans has confirmed the depth of Quinn’s attachment to the child, and Lily’s attachment to her. Besides, Marty said he’d already discussed it with Quinn. All the same, it touches my heart to hear her say it. “I’m so glad, dear. I know that she’ll be in good hands with you—as good as with a blood relative. Right after Brooke’s death, all I could think was that the poor child lacked any true kin.”
“Is that why you reached out to Lily’s father?”
I nod again. “I know that you and Brooke and your single parent group disagree, but I think every child deserves to know both parents. And after Brooke died, well, I didn’t think it was right for Lily to be orphaned if she still had a living father. I don’t care what those donor clinics say, blood is thicker than water.”
Quinn pulls her brows in a puzzled frown. “I’ve never understood what that’s supposed to mean. People adopt children and love them as much as their own all the time.”
“Yes,” I allow, “but that’s a freely made choice. When someone who’s not family takes in a child because of an emergency or a sense of duty, the child doesn’t always remain the priority.”
“Nothing could ever alter my love for Lily.”
“I believe you,” I say, “but not everyone has your sweet, loving nature. And oh, things can happen! Children get older and become belligerent. There can be accidents, disabilities, marriage and remarriage, other children—life has no guarantees. But blood relatives, more times than not, will take of care their own.”
“I worried that you wanted Zack to have guardianship of Lily.”
“I wanted him in the picture,” I say. “A young girl needs a father to protect her.”
Quinn’s eyes seem to see right through me. “You seem to be speaking from experience. Did something happen to you, Miss Margaret?”
Memories start to surface, memories I’ve mostly managed to keep buried all these years. I try to swat them away with a flip of my wrist. “Oh, it was all a long time ago.”
“Still, I’d love to hear your story.”
“Another day, dear. There’s something else I need to talk to you about right now. Someone came by. She was a casing . . . a caser . . .” I riffle through the pages of my notebook and finally find what I’m looking for. “A case manager. Miss Johnson.”
Quinn nods. “She and I already spoke.”
I look at my notes. “That’s what she said. I’m supposed to be here for the rest of the week, and then they want to transfer me to an inpatient rehabilitation hospital for a month or so. There’s one attached to this place that they recommend.”
Quinn’s head bobs. “I went over and looked at it. It’s excellent.”
There’s more in my notes. I read it aloud. “She asked about plans for after my release. She said I probably won’t ever be able to live by myself in my own house.” This hits me afresh as I say it. Merciful heavens; I can’t imagine going into a nursing home or assisted living facility.
My eyes get a little misty. Oh, dear—I don’t want to cry; I don’t believe in indulging in self-pity, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for myself. “I’m worried about what happens when I get out of rehabilitation.”
Quinn leans forward. “I’d love for you to move in with Lily and me.”
I pause, unsure I’m understanding correctly. “Into your house?”
“Yes.”
“Until I’m well enough to go home or to an assisted living center?”
“Well, Lily and I would love for it to be permanent. For it to be your new home.” She gives a hopeful smile, like she’s asking me for a favor. “I can turn the downstairs office into a bedroom. That’s what it was originally. There’s a bathroom with a tub and a walk-in shower, so you’d have your own quarters.”
“Well, I . . .” I don’t know what to think, much less say.
“Lily would love to have you live with us, and so would I.” Her hazel eyes lock on mine. They’re sincere and full of affection. “And if you’re willing and able once you get better, you could be a big help with Lily and the new baby.”
“Oh!” My heart feels like it’s dancing. I clutch my chest. “Oh, Quinn, dear, I would love to help with Lily and the baby!” I hesitate. “But I don’t want to impose.”
“Are you kidding? You’d be helping me.”
I never, ever want to be where I’m not wanted or in the way. “Perhaps I could move into Brooke’s house.”
“Brooke’s house doesn’t have a ground-floor bedroom or full bathroom, but if you want to live separately later when you’re fully recovered, we can figure that out then.” Quinn reaches out and takes my hand. “The key thing is, Lily and I would love for you to come live with us after you get out of rehab.”
I wonder if she knows what a lifeline she’s throwing me. There’s a lot I don’t recall, but I remember that Brooke had wanted to turn full guardianship over to Quinn when I turned eighty. Before my heart attack and fall, I’d been planning to fight it. Oh, thank God I didn’t! That would have been a terrible mistake, one based on pride and my own personal history, history that has nothing to do with Quinn.
“That’s a wonderful offer, dear,” I tell her now. “I—I feel a little overwhelmed.”
“Take your time and think about it.” Quinn squeezes my hand. “But having you there to help with Lily and the baby would be the answer to my prayers.”
I squeeze her fingers back, my eyes as full as my heart. More than anything, I want to be useful. Being needed gives meaning to life. “It’s an answer to mine, as well.” She looks a little blurry to me, but the warmth in her gaze shines through. “If you’re sure you want me, the answer is yes.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Quinn
Friday, May 31
WHEN I WAS a child, our house was a cluttered mess and my mother never invited people over. I promised myself that when I grew up, I wouldn’t live like that. I’d have a home I wasn’t ashamed of, a home that was pretty and neat, a home where people were welcome.
It’s a promise I’ve kept. Tonight the single parent group is here for an early dinner of pizza and salad. I won’t be able to make the usual monthly meeting at the coffee shop tomorrow, so I offered to host it this evening. The adults are gathered around my dining room
table while Mac’s niece watches Lily, Sarah’s twins, and Annie’s son on the backyard deck.
“Thanks for getting us all together,” Sarah says.
“Yeah!” Lauren nods, taking a bite of salad.
“And what a great idea to let the kids have their own dinner party outside,” Annie adds.
I follow her gaze out the window. “Kylie’s terrific with children.”
“She is.” Sarah dabs her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve hired her as a mother’s helper for the summer, and she’s amazing.”
“Where’s Mac?” Lauren asks.
“He’s out of town on business again,” Sarah says. “The MRI manufacturer hired him to train other technicians on a new piece of equipment. It’s a lucrative side hustle for him to help pay legal bills for his brother. Kylie is staying with me.”
“She’s really coming out of her shell,” Annie remarks.
“Yes.” Sarah casts an affectionate gaze at the girl out the window. “She’s blossoming. Mac is great with her. I think there was a lot of stress in her home, and it’s been good for her to be in new surroundings.”
Annie turns to me. “Okay, Quinn—tell us what we really want to know. How are things going with Zack?”
Hearing his name makes my heart gallop. “He and Lily are crazy about each other. But I’m a little worried she’s getting too attached to him.”
“It’s impossible for a child to get too attached to a responsible parent,” Sarah says. “Besides, I think this is forming a great foundation for the long term.”
“The person I’m worried about getting too attached is you.” Lauren gives me a sidelong smile.
Despite my best efforts, I feel my face heat. “He’s married. He’s completely off-limits.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not attractive,” Lauren says. “I’ve got a crush on him, and I’ve only seen him once.”
“Married people should automatically become unappealing to everyone but their spouse,” Annie says. “It ought to be a law.”
“Yeah. The moment they say, ‘I do,’ they should sprout horns and facial warts and lots of nose hair,” Lauren says.
Everyone laughs.
I laugh, as well. I don’t dare tell them how hard it’s becoming to keep boundaries around my thoughts and feelings about Zack. The other night, when the two of us were in Lily’s room taking turns reading to her, it occurred to me that everything my heart desires was right there in that bed. More and more, my mind meanders to places it shouldn’t go. I don’t want to examine these little lapses, because acknowledging them in any way seems to only make them more entrenched.
“Zack will be moving in a few weeks,” I say. “I hope Lily doesn’t feel abandoned when he leaves.”
“Moving isn’t the same as abandonment,” Sarah says. “And Lily knows he’s moving, right?”
“Yes. I just hate for her to experience another big loss,” I say.
“Life is a series of gains and losses,” Sarah says. “Having Zack in her life will be a big long-term gain.”
Everyone murmurs consent.
“Have you seen his wife since Miss Margaret’s birthday?” Lauren asks.
I shake my head. “She’s been in Seattle, but she’s coming back into town tonight. The four of us are going to the aquarium together tomorrow.”
A knock sounds at the door. Ruffles barks. Everyone on the left side of the table cranes their necks to peer out the sidelight.
Annie turns back toward me, her eyes big. “It’s Zack.”
“He’s just as good-looking as I remember.” Lauren smiles and waves to him from her chair.
I can’t see the front door from where I’m sitting, but my heart pounds ridiculously fast as I get up and cross the room to open it.
He’s wearing a dark suit with a loosened tie and a big smile. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “I just wanted to bring you this.” He hands me a box.
I turn it to read the front label. “A fetal Doppler?”
He nods. “Like I told you the other night, I bought it when Jessica was pregnant. She was never far enough along to use it, so I never gave it to her; I just kept it hidden under some old tennis gear in the back of the closet.”
“Oh.”
“There’s no point in taking it to Seattle.” He lifts his shoulders. “Anyway, I want you to have it.”
“Oh,” I say again. I feel like an idiot with a limited vocabulary. “Well, um, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I step back. “Do you want to come in?”
“No, no. I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”
“Come in and join us,” Lauren calls. “There’s plenty of pizza.”
He leans in and grins. “Looks good, but I’m on my way to pick up Jessica at the airport. I just stopped by to drop something off.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell him. “This is very considerate.”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waves again to the women, who are all twisted in their seats and openly gawking. “Have a great evening,” he calls, then turns and strolls off the porch.
I close the door and head back to the dining room.
“What did he bring you?” Lauren demands.
I turn the box and show the table.
“Oh, how thoughtful!” Annie exclaims.
“Yes,” I say. I put the box on the sideboard.
“Well?” Lauren looks at me expectantly.
“Well, what?”
“What was that all about?”
“He just came by to drop this off,” I say, sliding back into my chair at the table.
I don’t want to tell them about watching the DVD of the baby’s heartbeat with Zack. It was a moment I want to just tuck into my heart. It was too tender and intimate to share, like the details of lovemaking.
Not that I’m equating anything I’ve experienced with Zack to lovemaking, I sternly tell myself. I’m not. Not at all! But if I talk about it, it might sound like something is happening between us.
Which it’s not. It can’t. It won’t. He’s married.
I refuse to feel anything I’m not supposed to.
Control your thoughts and you control your feelings, all of the advice books say. Sometimes, I just want to stick my fingers in my ears and repeat La la la la la la la—or maybe throw the books against the wall.
Because how are you supposed to control your feelings when you spend time with a smart, funny, kindhearted, good-looking, goose bump–inducing guy who is not only everything you ever wanted in a man, but also a loving father to the orphaned child you’re mothering—and the bio dad of the baby whose heart is beating right under your own?
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Zack
I WAIT JUST beyond the security checkpoint at the New Orleans Airport and watch the sea of travelers flowing through the concourse. I can tell a plane has just disembarked, because people are compressed together and swarming toward the exit like a school of fish. I spot Jessica immediately. She must have gone to the Seattle airport straight from a meeting; she’s wearing a tailored black dress, and her hair is pulled back in a sophisticated twist. She looks chic and professional—like a woman who knows how to get things done. And she does, I think. She’s the most efficient woman I know. She’s pulling her rolling carry-on bag with one hand and checking her phone with the other.
I step toward her as she passes the checkpoint, but she’s so focused on her phone that she nearly bumps into me. She jumps when I speak to her.
“Hi, babe.”
She looks up, her dark eyes wide. “Zack!”
I can’t tell for a moment if she’s pleased to see me or not. We give each other a quick hug and a peck on the lips.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I came to pick you up,” I say. “I thou
ght I’d surprise you.”
“You did. I was just calling an Uber.”
I reach for her bag. She surrenders the handle to me. “How was your flight?” I ask.
“Good. Uneventful. I finished a couple of reports on the way.” She shifts her large purse to her other shoulder. “How are your cases going?”
“They’re coming along. The pro bono case has hit a bit of a snag, though.”
“You can pass that off to Greg or someone, though, if it drags past your work for the firm, right?”
I shake my head. “I want to see it through.”
Her attitude toward my pro bono work has always bothered me. I occasionally take on cases involving disadvantaged young people who’ve been arrested on nonviolent charges. I usually talk the DA into reducing or dropping the charges, or letting the kid work out some kind of repayment plan. Jessica acts as if the work doesn’t matter as much as my other cases because I do it for free. I feel like it’s even more important because a kid’s future is on the line. In the interests of keeping the peace, I change the subject. “So you’re here until Wednesday, right?”
She nods. “This is my ‘say good-bye, pack everything up, last time I actually live in New Orleans’ trip.”
“Maybe this visit will make you want to reconsider that,” I say.
She looks away. “My replacement here has all but been hired. I’m meeting with the candidate Monday to talk with him about the position and weigh in on whether or not I think he can do the job.”
“So you still have a chance to keep it,” I press.
Her lips flatten, the way they do when she’s not pleased. “I’m loving everything about the regional position. And my family is so happy and excited that we’re going to be living near them.” She steps onto the escalator that leads down to the airport exit. “I know you understand the importance of family.”
Why do I feel like she’s playing a trump card? I follow her, propping the carry-on bag on the stair behind us. “I hoped you’d keep an open mind through the weekend.”