In a Heartbeat

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Josh shrugged. “All they want to do is dance. Who wants to dance?”

  “Not me,” Nate said truthfully.

  “I wish it wasn’t raining,” the boy said discontentedly. “Then I could have taken my boat out or skateboarded or something.”

  Not skateboarded—his mother had nixed that until the cast was off, and he knew it.

  “Maybe you could go to a friend’s house.” Nate immediately wished he’d bitten his tongue. Saturday equaled soccer.

  “Most of my friends are on the team,” he said disconsolately. “Besides, they don’t want to sit around just ’cuz I have to.”

  “I could play Soccer Challenge with you,” he suggested. Screw work.

  The electronic goal, a present for Josh’s eighth birthday in February, hung on the wall in here so he could play anytime. The player earned points by hitting the board with the kicked ball. Different parts of the board earned more points than others, encouraging pinpoint control. Nate had had fun with it, too.

  “It’s not like really playing.”

  “I guess not,” Nate said, after a minute. He lowered himself to sit next to the boy on the floor, back to the wall. Unlike Josh, he stretched out his legs. “Got another idea?”

  Talking to his knees, Josh said, “Mom says it’s not your fault that...you know. Dad died.”

  Oh, crap. So much for this having been laid to rest.

  Yeah? Who did you think you were kidding?

  With the next breath, Nate discovered how much he hated thinking of what questions had been eating away at this boy in all the months since his father’s funeral. “Ask me anything, Josh. Anything at all, and I’ll answer.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IT WASN’T THAT she didn’t trust Nate. Checking on the kids the minute she walked in the door was second nature, that’s all.

  Anna set several bags of groceries on the counter, then followed the shrieks to find the two girls dancing and spinning to the sound of a silly pop tune until they had to be dizzy. Neither noticed her, so, smiling, she withdrew and went looking for Josh.

  Nate’s laptop sat open on the breakfast bar, so the two were presumably together. He and Josh weren’t out on the covered terrace or down on the dock. Since it was still pouring outside, that wasn’t a surprise. Down a short hall, she saw the bathroom door open, as was the door to the recently converted playroom. She heard the low rumble of a man’s voice and went that way to rescue Nate.

  “Well...” Her son’s voice was low, tentative. “Do you think it was your fault?”

  Oh, heavens. Josh had to be referring to Kyle’s death. What on earth could have brought this up again?

  During the long pause, she stopped in the hall, not sure whether she should interrupt or not. She couldn’t see them, which meant they didn’t know she was within earshot, either. Normally, she didn’t approve of eavesdropping...but this was her son.

  “No,” Nate said gruffly. “I don’t believe it was my fault. I almost said no when Sonja asked me in the first place. Would anyone have considered the accident my fault if I’d never been expected to come on the field trip?”

  Another silence. Anna eased herself to where she could see two sets of jean-clad knees. From the position, they must be sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall. Josh’s hand plucked at a tear in his jeans as he thought.

  “I guess not,” he said finally.

  “I don’t think so, either. I’ll tell you this, though. I’d give just about anything to have been there that day, to have seen Molly trying to sneak away.” Nate’s voice thickened, and he stopped to clear his throat. “Since I’ve gotten to know you and Jenna and your Mom, come to care so much about you all, I’ve wished even more I could go back, make a different decision, so your dad was still here for you.”

  “I wish he was, too.” Josh was crying now. “Except...then we wouldn’t even know you, would we?”

  “No.” Was it possible Nate was crying, too? Or at least on the verge? “But you don’t miss what you don’t know.”

  Anna realized suddenly that her view of the two sets of knees had blurred. She touched her face to find it wet. Oh, no. Her heart hurt as she imagined never having really known Nate Kendrick. You don’t miss what you don’t know. But, somehow, she felt sure she would have, that she’d have carried a hollow place inside for the rest of her life.

  No, that was ridiculous. She’d have gone on, trying to love a good yet undependable, frustrating man. Maybe someday the balance would have tipped enough for her to have left him, but maybe not. From the state of their finances after his death, she knew they’d have had to sell their house soon, anyway, moved to where living costs weren’t so high.

  Where she would never again have so much as set eyes on Nate or Molly.

  Anna pressed her hand to her breast to quell the ache. Leaving Molly and her dad was going to be inexpressibly awful. Shuddering, she knew she should have moved on long ago. Even if Nate asked them to stay—and she knew he wanted her—how could she? All she’d be doing was trading her dependence on one man for the same kind of relationship. She’d be safe but feel inadequate. So far, she thought, the trade had been fair, but if she married him...no, the weight they carried wouldn’t be close to equal.

  “It’s confusing,” Josh confessed. “Sometimes, I feel guilty when I’m happy. You know?”

  She knew. Oh, yes.

  Unable to handle any more, Anna backed away, turning to hurry toward the kitchen. At the foot of the stairs, she decided to detour to use the bathroom up there. Wash away the tears so Josh and Nate would never know she’d heard them talking.

  Especially, never let Josh wonder how his father, in the same position, would have handled his questions. Because she knew. Kyle would have jollied Josh into a better mood without ever admitting to any doubt, any emotional punch. The awful thing was that she wasn’t sure whether Kyle didn’t like delving deep—or whether he didn’t have any depths.

  And...how had she not noticed that when she fell in love with him, married him? Was young love that blind? Or would his lack of real depth, of the ability to consider his own behavior, never have really mattered if only he had been financially responsible? She had to remind herself again that he’d had some great qualities.

  I didn’t know I needed to look below the surface, she thought sadly. She’d been so hungry for a family, to belong.

  The answer was pretty much irrelevant now, anyway. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been during their marriage, far less at the beginning of it. She wanted to think she was stronger now...but was this terror at the idea of really trusting anyone again strength? Or was it cowardice?

  * * *

  ANNA WAS UNUSUALLY quiet at dinner that evening. Nate decided to be glad she hadn’t divvied up the casserole and taken her two kids up to the apartment to eat separately. In all the months that had passed, they’d evolved to eating as a family most days. But a couple times a week, she’d decide she needed some distance, or that he and Molly deserved to spend time alone. It was just often enough to keep him on edge every day when he came home from work. Will she or won’t she?

  It served another purpose, too, certainly for him and likely for her, as well: she was reminding them that the days and evenings they hung out together were an illusion.

  And, man, he hated it every time she did that.

  Were her eyes a little puffy? Why would she have been crying? Surely, after nine months, she’d quit crying over her husband. By the time she served blueberry pie and offered him coffee, Nate was sure she’d cried, and he needed to know why.

  The kids, with their smaller servings of pie, gobbled and bolted. Saturday night, no homework or at least none that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Nate watched them go, perplexed by Josh’s exuberance. Was the kid bipolar?

  “What’s that expression about?” Anna asked, after taking a sip
of coffee.

  “Josh was depressed earlier.” He hadn’t meant to tell her, but really she should know how hard he was taking his inactivity.

  “I...heard a little of what the two of you said.”

  Ah. Not the part of the conversation he’d been thinking about. “I hope I didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I’m glad about what I heard.”

  Wary now, he set down his cup. “Why?”

  She nibbled on her lip for a moment as she studied him. “I liked that you were really open with him and let him see your emotions. A lot of men prefer to uphold their tough-guy image.”

  “That wouldn’t have sent such a great message to Josh, given what we were talking about.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” She hesitated. “I’m surprised the subject came up. He hasn’t said anything to me in ages.”

  “About his dad?”

  “No, he talks about Kyle once in a while. Sometimes I wish he would more often, but...” She shook her head. “I meant about the day he died.”

  “He was feeling down to start with. He’s having a hard time without any outlets for his energy.”

  She made a face. “I know. But what can I do? Join a health club so I can put him on a treadmill?”

  “Maybe we could buy a really big hamster wheel,” Nate suggested.

  She chuckled, the warm, sexy sound that flowed over him like damp kisses. Damn it. He took a hasty bite of his pie.

  “He’d be sure to run too fast and end up taking a tumble,” she said.

  “Yeah. There’s got to be something he can do.”

  “Baseball’s out. He meant to play Little League until he found out about the spring soccer.”

  Nate nodded.

  “Kayaking? Sailing?”

  “Bowling. We could go tomorrow. Has he ever tried it?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her nose crinkled. “Could Jenna bowl, do you think?”

  “Ah...we could help her.”

  “Well, that actually sounds like fun, but doesn’t solve the problem.”

  “No.” He frowned. “Maybe the five of us could hit the soccer field again tomorrow. If we banned Josh from playing goalie...”

  “There’s too much chance it would get physical, anyway. Remember how, um, we collided.”

  Oh, he remembered. He broke out in a sweat just thinking about it. Was she blushing? Her eyes had darkened to navy. Neither of them reached for a cup or did anything but look at the other.

  Nine months, he reminded himself.

  He fumbled for something to say, then remembered the phone call he’d taken just before Molly called him down to dinner. After his earlier talk with Josh, it had almost seemed anticlimactic.

  “Sonja let me know she’s entering treatment again.”

  Probably relieved because he’d reduced the tension, Anna asked, “Today?”

  “That’s what she said. I’ll call Monday to find out when Molly can see her, but I assume, like last time, it’ll be ten days, at least.”

  “Do you know what inspired this?”

  “It almost has to be Molly, doesn’t it?” He’d wondered, though. What if Sonja had been picking up DUIs? Or waking up after blackouts? “She has to be humiliated to be able to see Molly only here, with me present.” He’d refused to put Anna in the awkward position of supervising visits.

  She was quiet for a minute. “You’ll have some decisions to make if she succeeds.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I won’t be in any hurry to make them, though. Finishing a one-month program is no guarantee she won’t backslide. From what I hear, the craving may never go away.”

  “No.” Anna tipped her head, looking at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink.”

  “I do when I meet a business contact for drinks, or at the kind of dinner where it would be noticeable if I turned down a glass of wine. But I sip. I’ve never been attracted to booze.” Even as a teenager, he’d known why. “I like to have a clear head. Working, I don’t want to let something slip I didn’t mean to. I hate the fuzzy feeling as the intoxication wears off.”

  “I don’t, either. Plus, I don’t like beer, and cheap wines aren’t so great, either. Maybe I could develop a taste for expensive ones, but why would I?”

  He chuckled. “I’m the wrong one to ask.” Reflective again, he said, “Sonja always had a bottle of wine going. She liked a mixed drink before dinner. I figured that was normal. Trouble was, I never paid attention to how long a particular bottle lasted. Maybe, with no job or volunteer activities, she was bored.”

  “I was happy staying home when the kids were little. They are a full-time job.”

  He grimaced. “Not if you have a nanny, even if she was part-time.”

  “You did? Really?”

  “Really. I hardly knew the woman. She came evenings sometimes when we were going out, but otherwise, having her here meant Sonja could meet friends for lunch or go shopping.” She’d done a lot of shopping. The woman must have fifty pairs of shoes, and their huge walk-in closet had been full to the point she’d taken over a closet in another room for her off-season garments. If it made her happy, he’d tell himself. In the end, it hadn’t, and he felt some guilt knowing he’d given her free use of the credit cards instead of his time and attention. Maybe his marriage would have lasted if he’d changed his ways for her, as he had for Molly’s sake—and for Anna.

  Yeah, but he had a bad feeling he hadn’t because, once past the first infatuation with Sonja’s beauty, she’d bored him. He couldn’t imagine Anna ever would.

  “I wouldn’t have wanted a nanny,” Anna said, hauling him back from his wandering thoughts, “but I have to admit I was looking forward to Jenna starting school so I could get a job. A second income would have been good, plus I like people. Other mothers at playgroups weren’t enough to satisfy my curiosity about the big world out there.”

  “Are kids at school any improvement?”

  Her laugh lit her face. “Well, they’re variations on a theme. Anyway, now I’m suffering from teacher envy. I keep thinking about how much better I could do it if I were in charge.”

  He grinned. “Envy? Sounds more like hubris. A sin I know all too well.”

  Her smile faded and she cocked her head. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “About myself? Yeah. Arrogance is a useful quality, but it can also act like blinders.”

  “That makes sense. Except—” her searching gaze had him wondering what she saw “—I haven’t seen that in you. Well...not since our first meeting.”

  He moved uncomfortably. “I wanted to fix everything by writing a check.”

  “Have you gotten over that?”

  If she’d marry him, the issue would never arise. No answer he could give leaped to mind.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, sounding suspicious at his lack of response.

  “You have to understand,” he heard himself say. “I’m wealthy. Money I could replace by picking the next great start-up would make your life so much easier. Yours and the kids. So, no. I haven’t gotten over it.”

  Her eyebrows rose, but she said lightly, “Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep myself armored against temptation.”

  “We can have a knock-down, drag-out when the time comes.”

  Anna laughed as if he’d been kidding. Standing, she reached for her empty coffee cup. “I know it’s Saturday night, but I’ll bet you didn’t get much work done today. I’ll grab the kids and reduce the racket by two-thirds.”

  “Not two-thirds. A hundred percent. Molly is quiet as a mouse once Jenna and Josh leave.”

  Concern changed her expression. “I’d hoped that had changed.”

  “It hasn’t. Anna.” He swallowed. “Don’t go yet.”

  Her hesitation reminded him of a
bird on the verge of flight. Afraid he’d spook her, Nate didn’t move, although given his mood, he doubted he looked harmless.

  Finally, she asked, “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  No, but he’d take it. “Sure. Thanks.”

  She carried away his cup, too, and returned a few minutes later.

  In hopes of easing back the throttle, he asked how she was liking the job. Just last week, the Bellevue School District had hired her as a full-time paraeducator at Eastgate Elementary to replace a woman having a difficult pregnancy.

  Anna relaxed noticeably. “It’s good. In a way, I enjoyed the variety of working with different ages and abilities, not to mention different teachers, but I really like having the chance to get to know everyone. Kids, teachers, eventually parents. I don’t have to guess when I respond to a problem. I know what’s going on with the families, what issues the kids are already struggling with. And the teacher I’m working with is great. I hit the jackpot.”

  “Good. Have you put in an application for fall?”

  “For a teaching position, you mean?” She shook her head. “Living expenses are so high around here. First-year teacher salaries are fine, but as the sole income for a family? I don’t think so. Although it’s true I need to start applying for jobs.”

  Nate thought he heard a molar crack, as hard as he was clenching his teeth. Stay. Too soon to say that...but if he didn’t, she might find the perfect job in Cheyenne, Wyoming or Winnemucca, Nevada. Who knew where she’d be willing to go?

  His frustration deepened, adding some gravel to his voice. “Apply for jobs locally.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “But...”

  He shot a hunted look toward the family room. He and she were alone—but that could change in a split second.

  To hell with it. He pushed back his chair and stood, taking a chance, holding out his hand.

  Anna stared at his hand, then warily at his face.

  “Please.”

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Take a chance.”

  Her pulse beat fast in her throat. Her eyes were big, shimmering pools of anxiety. Pushing her might be a mistake, but Nate envisioned her finding a job, planning her move, while he stood aside and kept silent.