Soft Kisses and Birdsong (Riversong Book 2)

by Lynnette Bonner

  The buzzing and movement stopped. “Alright, I’ve got a straw for you. Just open your mouth.”

  She complied and when she felt the straw against her lips, she drew in a mouthful. Liquid, sweet and tart, spread across her tongue.

  She cracked open one eyelid to see what it might be that she was drinking.

  Landon leaned over her, carefully holding the cup and straw before her. “It’s apple-cranberry juice. They brought it with your lunch a few hours ago.”

  Her squint angled toward the windows. “What time is it?”

  “It’s three thirty in the afternoon. You just had the surgery on your arm yesterday.”

  Zaire fought to think. That meant today was Saturday. And there was something she was supposed to remember about Saturday, wasn’t there? And then it hit her. “Oh man. Can you get me my phone? I need to call Salem. I was supposed to go shopping with her today—for her wedding dress.” Eyes, once more closed against the invading light—and the reminder of what a farce their own vows had turned out to be—she pointed at the hospital table which was the last place she remembered her phone being.

  But instead of putting her phone in her hand, Landon curled his hand gently around hers. “Both Salem and Shiloh were here to visit you this morning. They said for you not to worry, and to just concentrate on getting better, remember?”

  Zaire felt her brow pucker. “I talked to them?”

  Landon chuckled. “Yes. You did. But I can’t say that I’m surprised you don’t remember. Those pills really did a number on you.”

  Zaire fought to think through the haze that seemed to cover everything from this morning till now. “Were my parents here?”

  Landon’s hand tensed around hers. “Oh, yes. Your parents were definitely here.”

  Zaire, wrinkled her nose. “I bet Mom’s wasn’t the friendliest face you’ve ever seen?”

  She felt Landon’s fingers stroke gently over her forehead and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. But he didn’t answer her question.

  She opened her eyes. Searched his face.

  After a long moment, he blew out a little breath. “If anyone has a right to be upset with me, it’s your parents. How’s your pain level? Do you need more pain pills?”

  She assessed for a moment. “No. I’m fine. I don’t like how those pills make me feel. And I can’t remember anything from this morning.”

  He chuckled. “That might not be such a bad thing. You are pretty entertaining when you are high on those things.”

  She cringed. “Oh no. What did I say?”

  Landon stood and made his way around her bed to replace the pink cup on her hospital table.

  Zaire followed him with her gaze, narrowing her eyes in a way that she hoped conveyed that she wasn’t going to let him off without telling her.

  He looked uncomfortable… And was he actually blushing?

  This dizziness from her head drained into her stomach and settled into a hard knot. “I said crazy stuff, didn’t I?”

  Landon sank back onto the edge of her bed. “Let’s just say your parents were none too happy with some of the stuff you said to me.” He tilted her that cocksure grin that always did funny things to her pulse.

  Perfect. She’d gone and made a fool of herself to a man who no longer wanted her. “What did I say? No, wait.” She held up her good hand. “Maybe it’s better that I don’t know.” When he merely continued to grin, she pressed the hand to her forehead. “I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat in here?”

  “They came and took your lunch tray a while ago. And the sandwich I got you from Golden Loaves is probably rock hard and cold. But I could see if one of the nurses could get you anything?”

  Her mouth watered at the thought of the sausage and cheese sandwich with the specially seasoned eggs and croissant bread. She’d tried to get Jonie Field to give her the recipe of the spices she put in her eggs so many times she’d lost count. But the woman was carefully guarding her delicious secret. “I’ll take the sandwich. Even cold that will beat any hospital food ever.”

  Landon stood and leaned across the bed to grab the brown bag off her table. “Want me to see if there’s a microwave that someone can heat it up in?”

  Zaire shook her head. “Microwaved eggs are worse than cold eggs.”

  Landon chuckled as he pulled out the wax-paper wrapped sandwich and handed it to her. “Your wish is my command.”

  Zaire felt another wave of warmth at that. He used to tell her that all the time in the beginning of their relationship. She needed to find something else to talk about. “Did Micha come by today?” She broke off a piece of the sandwich and popped it in her mouth.

  Landon looked at her for a moment.

  She winced. “He did, didn’t he? Wow. I must have been really out of it. Did he say when I can go home?”

  Landon scrubbed one hand over the raspy stubble that she suddenly realized coated his cheeks. “Well… You probably aren’t going to like the news on that front.”

  She stilled. “Why?” she asked cautiously.

  “He says that you can’t be on your own for at least two weeks. Salem said you could stay with her, but your mom insisted that you would want to come home and stay with them.” He gave her an apologetic shrug. “She told Salem she had enough on her plate.”

  Zaire’s appetite left as suddenly as it had arrived. She tucked the barely-touched food back into the bag and set it on the table again. Her fingers found her temples and she fleetingly wondered if the hazy mind and dry-as-desert-sand mouth from the opioids might not be better than the piercing headache she could feel coming on. “Can you see if the nurse can give me some plain old Tylenol?”

  Landon nodded. “I’m on it.”

  He disappeared behind the curtain and returned a few minutes later with a nurse who had some pills. “You sure you don’t want something stronger? Don’t try to be all heroic now. If you are having pain, you should take the meds that are going to help you rest the best.”

  Zaire shook her head. “I’m really not in that much pain from my arm. I just have a headache coming on, I think. And my chest feels like someone is stabbing me with a knife every time I move.”

  “Yeah, Dr. Stanton says you broke a couple ribs, and they’ll feel that way for a while. So don’t be afraid to ask for something stronger if you need it, okay?” The nurse handed her the pills and the cup, and left the two of them alone again.

  Zaire swallowed the pills and then gave Landon a look. “Go home, Landon. Have you even left the building since you carried me into the ER?”

  He shrugged. “I went for your coffee and sandwich this morning.”

  The picture of him hovering so near her all day sent another unwelcome wave of warmth drifting through her. Irritated, she waved him toward the door. “Go. Go, go. I’ll be fine. Get some rest yourself. Take a shower. Shave.”

  He smirked. “That bad, huh?”

  Zaire didn’t dare respond to that, because the truth was that even with that scruffy beard and hair that was messily finger-combed, the man was the best looking male specimen she’d ever laid eyes on.

  “What if I want to stay here and spend some time with you. Would you have any objection to that?”

  Zaire swallowed. She should have objections to that. But the truth was, something about his words poured balm on a soul that had been so bruised and crushed by his departure from her life several years ago. There had been something she’d wanted to know. Laid awake at night and pondered on. Felt jealous over.

  She plucked at a loose string in the hospital blanket. “I have a question for you. Will you answer it honestly?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate.

  “Was there ever…another woman?”

  He shook his head. “No. I left because I was failing at everything. And I think some part of me couldn’t stand the thought of how you would see me if I told you. I’m not excusing what I did. Just telling you… Back then none of my priorities were right. All my worth came from my job
and from your good opinion of me. I was so afraid that when you found out I’d failed, you’d walk away, so I pushed you away to try to lessen the hurt.” He paused, and finally ended with a shrug. “Now I’m hoping you’ll see me as a failure who wants a second chance.” He smirked. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “A second chance?” Her heart lodged in her throat, thrashing in terror. “You don’t mean…”

  He shrugged. “And if I do?”

  She couldn’t even go there right now. Didn’t have the capacity to fathom what he could mean by that. Her hand trembled against the covers. “I wouldn’t have. Walked away, I mean.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  She thought for a long moment and then offered him an olive branch. “How about if we see if there’s anything on TV?”

  He nodded, his eyes misting. “Sounds like a plan.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Saturday evening, Shiloh paced back and forth on the living room carpet of her small apartment that sat above Zaire’s shop on Main Street. The store had two apartments above it. An elderly couple who had retired to Riversong lived in the one that looked out over the back of the building to the mountains beyond, and Shiloh’s looked over Main toward the pool of the small motel across the street.

  She didn’t care about the view. She’d just been thrilled that she’d been able to find a place with reasonable rent on such short notice when she’d been hired at the end of the summer.

  Zaire even had the place fully furnished in a cute, if eclectic, style that was homey and comforting.

  But right now, all that homey comfort was doing nothing to allay Shiloh’s nerves. She hadn’t seen her son since she’d gone down to visit him two months ago right after she’d gotten back from Italy. At that point she’d been planning on moving to Portland so she could see him more often, but then Micha had told her about the woman he was seeing and, well, it just didn’t feel right moving so near to them after that.

  And then she’d walked into the hospital yesterday and just about gasped in shock when she’d seen him standing there, all handsome in his doctor’s coat. What had brought him back to town? She hadn’t had the time to ask. And didn’t know if she should ask. The last thing she wanted to do was to make Micha feel like she was checking up on him after all these years. But it thrilled her to no end that God had brought her boy home to her.

  She had cried nearly all the way home from Portland, and since that was a seven-hour drive, her eyes had felt gritty for days afterward. She’d poured out her heart to God about how disappointed she was that just when she’d finally decided to try to do the right things and start living for Him again, Micha had yanked the rug out from under her. She’d whined about how it wasn’t fair that just when she repented and realized that her son deserved a mother that was present, God had thrown up thick doors with massive locks. She’d even done some complaining about the fact that Micha was still so dang good looking. But in the end, she’d surrendered. She’d literally thrown up her hands when she came to a stop in the Riversong Motel parking lot that night and told God that she would just let Him have the wheel of her life from here on out, but to please help her know how to be a good mother to Quinten from a distance.

  And now God had brought them home.

  And Shiloh was pacing in her living room trying not to cry with the gratitude of it all.

  Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. She’d offered up that prayer so many times since Friday night that she felt certain God was probably rolling His eyes at her and replying “I get it already.” But she couldn’t help it. She truly was so grateful.

  She checked the clock one more time. Five minutes until she could leave. Micha had said she could come by at six thirty and she didn’t want to mess up and arrive too early or too late. If she left precisely at six twenty, she should arrive at Micha’s house by six twenty-seven. She’d driven by and timed it this morning, just to make sure she knew exactly how to get to the house—even though it had been a silly precaution since her drama teacher had lived in the house when she was in high school and she’d known exactly where it was.

  She checked her reflection in the mirror that hung on the back of the living room doorway one last time. She’d gone for jeans and a trendy top with a pretty, shabby-chic necklace. The outfit didn’t look like she was trying too hard to impress, yet it was one of her favorite outfits and one that she got compliments on all the time. She’d hoped that looking nice and yet being comfortable would help her relax, but so far, that wasn’t working out so well.

  She pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “Right. You can do this. Get going.”

  Taking up the two large paper bags full of toys that she’d purchased at Riversong Toys and Gifts this afternoon, she locked her door, and forced herself to walk methodically to her car.

  It was six twenty-nine when she rang the doorbell. Technically a minute early, but Micha would just have to deal because she hadn’t been able to force herself to sit in her car in the drive for another minute longer.

  When he opened the door, there was a small smile playing around his mouth and a warmth in his brown eyes. “Was beginning to wonder if I was going to have come out and get you.” He leaned out and looked pointedly toward her car in his driveway.

  She felt her face heat. And tucked a section of hair behind one ear. “Sorry. I was trying to be on time but not too early. I didn’t want to be late, but I didn’t want you to feel rushed by my showing up too soon—” Realizing she was babbling, she broke off and looked down at the rattan welcome mat beneath her feet.

  After a short pause he said, “Yeah. Five minutes would have been a deal-killer, for sure.”

  She looked up at him, unsure how to read the tone of those words.

  That dangerous smile still lingered.

  Dangerous because it did amazing, wonderful, scary, can’t-go-there-again things to her pulse. She eased in a calming breath, reminding herself she was here for her son and not to reminisce about her relationship with Micha. The string handles of the paper bags full of toys were cutting into her palm. She adjusted the bags.

  With a bit of a start, Micha seemed to realize he’d kept her on the porch. He retreated a step and motioned her in. “Come in. Sorry.” He took a couple steps and kicked a box out of the way. “The place is still somewhat of a mess. I don’t have everything unpacked yet.”

  With the box kicked out of the way, he stepped back to shut the front door behind them. That left them standing very close to each other in the small entry, with a potted palm at Micha’s back, and a mail table at hers.

  His gaze captured and held hers for a long moment before his focus roamed over her features from her hairline to her lips.

  He swallowed. “Quinten!” he called, and left her standing there to lead the way further into the house.

  She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should follow, not to mention the uncertainty of how well her legs would work right now. The man had certainly not lost whatever it was that used to spark such chemistry between them. She pushed out a calming breath.

  The entryway led past the staircase on the right, and the dining room on the left, to the living room beyond. Micha paused on the threshold and looked back at her. “You coming?”

  “Yes. Sorry.” She forced herself to hurry forward.

  “I think he’s in the back yard. One of the draws of this place was the practically new swing-set and playhouse that Mrs. Knudsen had in the back for her grandkids. He loves it out there.” He strode toward the sliding door she could see was partway open.

  “You don’t have to call him in. I don’t mind playing with him outside for a while.” She followed close on his heels, but Quinten was already headed back toward the house. He must have heard Micha’s call a moment ago.

  His eyes widened when they landed on her. “Mom!” He launched himself past his dad and threw his little arms around her with such exuberance that she couldn’t even lift her arms to return the gesture.

  “Hi, sweetie.”
She felt tears prick the backs of her eyes.

  How had she turned her back on this for so many years?

  Quinten tipped his head up, his mop of blondish-brown hair, a color somewhere between hers and Micha’s, falling away from his cherubic face. “How did you know we moved? Did Dad tell you already? I get to start a new school on Monday!”

  Shiloh swept a hand over his head. “I know, sweetie. And guess what? I work at your new school!”

  His eyes widened. “You do?! That’s awesome. Maybe the boys at this school won’t pick on me since you work there.”

  Shiloh’s gaze darted to Micha’s. What on earth was he talking about?

  A muscle bulged in Micha’s jaw. “Quinten what did I tell you about the bullies, huh? If you stand up to them, they always back down.”

  Quinten hung his head. “Yes, Dad.” Then after a moment he looked up. “But we moved from the last ones. Isn’t that sort of like running away?”

  Micha scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Well, those circumstances were different. We can talk more about that later. For now, why don’t you run get washed up and we’ll treat Mom to dinner.”

  Quinten started to obey the command, but as he moved past her his attention lingered on the bags she still held that were emblazoned with Riversong Toys and Gifts. “And then can I see what’s in the bags, Dad?”

  Micha chuckled. “Yes, after dinner I’m sure Mom will let you see what’s in the bags.”

  Shiloh waited until Quinten had disappeared up the stairs before she rounded on Micha. “He was being bullied?”

  Micha sighed and started through the dining room toward the kitchen she knew was on that end of the house.

  She set the toy bags down and followed him, unwilling to let the subject drop. “Micha, I know I haven’t been there for him. But I’m trying to change that. So, I’d like to know what happened.”

  “Trying to change that because we both just happened to move back home at the same time?”

  The words hurt, despite how the situation looked. And maybe because when she’d gone to visit this past summer, she hadn’t pushed herself into her son’s life when she’d found out his father was seeing a woman. If she was any kind of mother at all, wouldn’t she have pushed harder to be part of his life? She clenched her fists so tight that her fingernails pressed into her palms. She could tell him why she hadn’t stayed in Portland this summer, but he’d only see it as an excuse. So instead, all she offered was, “That’s a fair charge, Micha. I should have done better, from the beginning.”