Almost a Family

by Roxanne Rustand

  Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs from the second level. The older boy gave Connor a brief glance and mumbled something that might have been a greeting, then he disappeared around the corner.

  Lily stepped aside as Connor walked in. “Scout made a big mess, so we gotta give him a bath,” she said somberly. “Before Erin comes home.”

  And it looked as if the bath had made an even bigger one. Connor hid a smile as he glanced at his watch. “I’m early?”

  “Nope.” A delicate blush rose in Lily’s pale cheeks. “She had to run to town, because of Scout. I think she’s bringing home a bucket of chicken and dessert. And,” the girl added glumly, “she’s buying a tie-out stake and chain until we can figure out a dog pen. We’re supposed to tell you to come in.”

  “Thanks.” Connor glanced to the left, where the kitchen table was set with a cheery red tablecloth, ivory stoneware and a pot of bright yellow chrysanthemums—so apparently Scout hadn’t wreaked havoc there.

  Lily led Connor into the living room area to the right, then wavered uncertainly, clearly shy and uncomfortable in her role as hostess. “Um…do you want the newspaper? Or a glass of water?”

  “I’m fine.” He sauntered over to the fireplace mantel, where a number of framed photographs were displayed. School photographs of all three kids; one of them posed stiffly in front of a ranch-style house with a profusion of flowers blooming along the foundation. Another photograph was of Erin and the children standing before a rocky cliff. “Where was this?”

  “Lake Superior. We went there in the summer, after…” Her voice hitched, then trailed off as she studied the tips of her shoes. “After school was out,” she finished lamely.

  After Erin’s jerk of a husband took off with his bimbo, probably. “I’ll bet you had fun. It’s beautiful up there. Did you see the Split Rock Lighthouse? And Gooseberry Falls?”

  She nodded, but even from across the room, he could see her lower lip trembling. “Let’s see…did you go to the big aerial bridge in Duluth?”

  At that, her chin lifted and she gave him a tremulous smile. “We heard a ship’s horn, and then the bridge guy answered with his own horn. Then the whole bridge went straight up in the air so the ship could go into the harbor.”

  Tyler, who looked as if he’d gotten at least as wet as the dog, appeared in the hallway door. And a second later, Drew and the babysitter followed.

  Haley gave a gusty sigh. “We’ve done what we can, but Scout sure didn’t like that hair dryer very much. I don’t know where to put him to finish drying, unless you boys have a long rope.”

  Drew and Tyler looked at each and shrugged. From the bathroom came the sound of the dog clawing frantically at the door.

  “I might have some rope in my trunk. I’ll go check,” Connor offered.

  Drew went back for the dog, and they all stepped out onto the porch as Erin came up the steps with two grocery bags in her arms and a harried expression on her face.

  “I’m sorry—I never meant to be so late.” She blew at her wispy bangs, murmuring her thanks as Connor reached for the bags. “We had just a little problem in the kitchen.”

  Shifting the damp dog in his arms, Drew gave Erin a contrite look. “I’m really sorry. We didn’t know he could jump that high. Honest.”

  “And we’ll pay for the slow cooker with our allowances,” Tyler added earnestly.

  Erin reached into a grocery bag and withdrew a large plastic package filled with chain. “If Scout is in the house, you kids need to watch him all the time. If he has to go outside, you must tie him so he doesn’t run off. He can be loose if you’re playing with him, but otherwise—not. Promise?”

  Drew nodded solemnly as he took the package from her, then he bounded down the porch steps. Tyler and Lily followed him out into the yard.

  “Come on in,” Erin said as she opened the door for Connor. “I’m afraid this isn’t the menu I planned, but the kids probably like Kentucky Fried better than beef burgundy over rice, anyway. How about you?”

  “I’m not hard to please.” Connor thought about his solitary meals up at the house on the hill. The individual frozen entrées that he bought by the dozen when he bothered to stop at the local grocery store, his stockpile of tuna or canned soup when he hadn’t. “I can’t even remember when I last sat down to a home-cooked meal.”

  “Have a word with Scout before you leave—he can tell you what it tasted like.” Erin tipped a tall carton of hot fried chicken onto a platter and dumped mashed potatoes and coleslaw into bowls. “Though I’m guessing that a whole potful of meat and a cherry cobbler has given give him a whale of a stomachache.”

  Connor tried to imagine what Stephanie would have done about a ruined dinner and a dog like Scout. God rest her soul, she probably would have called a caterer and the humane society, and then she would have had a nervous breakdown. “I appreciate the invitation.”

  “It’s the least I can do, as a neighbor. After all—” Erin gave him a brief, wicked smile “—you did give us permission to keep that dog.”

  “A privilege you must be very thankful for.” Until now she’d seemed businesslike, perhaps even a little wary. Her smile surprised and delighted him. “Maybe you’d like two.”

  “Mention that within hearing range of these kids, and you’re dead.”

  The front screen door squealed open, then slammed. “I’m leaving, Mrs. Lang. You still want me to pick up the kids after school tomorrow on my way out here?”

  Erin rounded the kitchen table and met the teenager in the living room. “I’d appreciate that, Haley. I’ll start paying your mileage.”

  “Thanks!” She grabbed her purse and backpack from the sofa, waved and left with another squeal and slam of the door.

  “I think you need some oil for those hinges,” Connor said mildly.

  “Or possibly a geriatric babysitter who doesn’t move quite so fast.” Erin moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk, poured it into the glasses on the table, then went to the door to call the kids for supper. “Though I am thrilled to have Haley. She comes every day after school now, and she’s great with the kids. I’m not sure an older adult could be paid enough to keep up with them.”

  Throughout supper, Connor sat back and absorbed the ebb and flow of conversation—slow at first, perhaps hindered by his presence, but then Lily hesitantly talked about a rabbit a classmate brought to school, and Tyler asked about joining Cub Scouts again.

  Only Drew stubbornly refused to respond to Erin’s tactful prompting. He didn’t so much as meet Connor’s eyes, though they sat across the table from one another.

  Whatever had happened to the kid in his former life must have been damn tough, Connor mused after he tried and failed to get the boy to talk about school, in-line skating or the last Matrix rerun on TV.

  After the meal was cleared away and the kids headed off to their rooms to do homework, Erin went out to get Scout and let him thunder up to the loft to be with the boys.

  “Sorry,” she said lightly as she took a last glance at the kitchen, poured two cups of coffee and handed Connor one. “You’re used to peace and quiet. Your ears are probably still ringing.”

  “I’ve enjoyed every minute.” How long had it been since he’d spent time like this—with an intelligent, amusing woman who both challenged and delighted him? With anyone, beyond those he worked with at the clinic or hospital?

  “It’s chilly out on the porch,” she murmured. “Let’s just have our coffee in here.”

  The embers in the fireplace cast a flickering glimmer across the honey-colored, half-log walls. She reached over and flipped on a small stained-glass lamp at one end of the sofa, then curled up in an overstuffed upholstered chair. The amber light cast a soft glow, warming her skin to soft peach and adding a sparkle to her eyes.

  Clearing his throat, Connor settled down on the end of the sofa near her and cradled his coffee cup in both hands. “I never would have guessed that I’d run into you again, much less end u
p having dinner here.”

  She laughed. “And I wouldn’t believe that you’d ever given me a thought. The surprise is that you remembered my name.”

  “I remember. You were so serious about school— I’d see you lugging armloads of books across the campus, or I’d go to the dorm to pick up Stephanie, and see you studying at one of the desks off the common room.” She’d been such a pretty girl, he’d often wondered why she didn’t have three or four guys trailing after her like hopeful puppies.

  “I had to work hard to keep my scholarships, or I wouldn’t have been able to continue.” She grinned. “And the rooms had barely enough space for two beds and two tiny desks, so I didn’t even try to study there. Stephanie was luckier. She had a private room—though she had so much stuff in there I’m not sure if she could even turn around.”

  Charmed by the light sound of Erin’s laughter, Connor wondered about how difficult life had been for her. She’d come from less money, yet as far as he knew, she’d never shown resentment toward her wealthier cousin. “I’m sorry that Stephanie and I lost track of you over the years.”

  “Me, too.” Erin took a slow sip of her coffee. “Our families were barely on speaking terms, so it was nice getting to know her better while we were at college. I’m just thankful that I heard about her accident in time to make it back to Wisconsin for her funeral.”

  Images of that day flashed through his mind like a disjointed slide show. “I don’t even remember half of the people who were there…but I know you came up to me and offered your condolences.”

  “What a terrible day that must have been for you. How can anyone ever prepare for something like that? Right out of the blue…and then having to make it through the funeral…”

  The sympathy in her eyes touched him, but Stephanie had been wild. Out of control. And that night…

  The pager on his belt vibrated, startling him back into the present. He grabbed it and read the text message on the small screen, then stood with a sigh. “Hospital. I have to be on my way.”

  Erin unfolded her legs and rose. “You can use our phone if you just need to call in.”

  “I admitted a young woman with asthma this afternoon. I want to get back down there to take another look at her, because her oxygen sats are a little low.”

  At the door, Erin flipped on the porch light and smiled up at him. “I’m glad you could join us, Connor.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it.” He hesitated, caught in that awkward moment when a handshake is too formal, a quick embrace too personal. And he suddenly found himself wanting to kiss her. Where had that come from?

  “I’ll try harder at keeping my kids and dog home,” she continued, her eyes shining. “Thanks for being patient with us.”

  Patient wasn’t exactly how he felt right now. Her dark hair gleamed under the porch light. Her fair skin appeared almost luminous, and her mouth—

  He tried to clear his head as he turned away.

  He wasn’t looking for any involvement. In three months he would be gone—and the last thing he needed was anything to complicate his life further. A woman like Erin, with her career and her devotion to those three kids, meant commitment. Permanence. Putting down roots.

  And he’d already found out just how heartbreaking those ties could be.

  “I FIGURED YOU COULD USE some moral support.” Grace winked at Erin outside Ollie’s Diner the next morning. “And if you didn’t, I’d still go inside for the best caramel rolls ever created.”

  “I couldn’t ask for a better ally.” Erin felt some of her tension ease as she opened the door and ushered the director of nursing through the door. “I feel like I’m getting ready to face the lions.”

  Grace snorted. “At my age, I’ve ceased to be intimidated by anyone…except maybe my ninety-eight-year-old mother.”

  Erin started to lead the way to the back of the busy café, then pulled up short. The back booth was empty. “I thought the doctors met here every Thursday.”

  “That’s right.” Grace sidestepped between several sets of tables filled with retirees, murmuring greetings as she passed. “Because there are just a few things in life you can count on—death, taxes, and the absolute bliss of breakfast at Ollie’s.”

  “I hope so. They agreed to talk over my suggestions and come up with a list of useful equipment, supplies and remodeling projects. We need concrete goals for fund-raising.”

  Grace grabbed a couple of menus from an empty table without breaking her stride. “Good plan.”

  “So where are they?”

  “Sometimes they run a little late. Let’s sit a spell.”

  Grace slid into the side of the booth facing into the restaurant, and signaled to one of the waitresses bustling back and forth between the kitchen and the crowded tables. “The usual—times two,” she called out.

  Moments later, the waitress delivered two cups of steaming coffee and a couple of warm, dinner-plate-size caramel-cinnamon rolls.

  “Whoa,” Erin murmured. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

  “Local opinion is divided. Some argue for extra butter, to turn the top all melty.” Grace reached for three pats, peeled away the papers and dumped the butter dead-center on her warm roll. “Others say nothing else is needed. Personally, I think that sounds boring. Don’t you?”

  Caught up in her first taste of Ollie’s specialty, Erin could only nod as an intense explosion of feather-soft yeasty bread and cinnamon hit her palate. “This is heaven,” she murmured a minute later. “Absolute bliss.”

  “And with luck, we’ll be finished before the doctors show up, so these beauties don’t get cold.” Grace sectioned off another bite with her knife and fork. Then her hands stilled.

  “What? Who is it?” Erin looked around the edge of the booth, but didn’t see any familiar faces. A tall, distinguished man in a charcoal suit was headed their way, though. She ducked back inside the booth. “This someone you know?”

  Grace gave an offhand wave that belied the faint pink blooming in her weathered cheeks. “Dan Travers. The high school principal.”

  “Ahh.” Erin bit back a smile.

  “With so many foster kids through the years, it seemed like I always had someone in high school, so I ran into him now and then.” She set aside her fork, fluffed her short gray hair and smiled as the silver-haired man stopped at their table.

  The eye contact between them appeared to hold more than casual interest. Had this been going on for years?

  “It doesn’t seem like our school is complete this term, Grace. We don’t have any of your kids enrolled.”

  “I’m done with foster care,” she murmured after making the introductions. “My final two boys graduated last spring, and I’ll be retiring from the hospital soon.”

  “That’s hard to believe.” He grinned at Erin, though his gaze veered back to Grace. “She and I were classmates, and I refuse to believe we’ve reached retirement age already.”

  “But you have, what—three kids of your own spread across the country, and six or eight grandchildren?” Grace’s voice turned a shade wistful. “You’ll be busier traveling to see them than you ever were at the school.”

  “Which reminds me—I’d better run. School assembly this morning, first period.” He nodded to Grace, then Erin, and he made his way back through the tables toward the front door.

  “Nice guy,” Erin said blandly. “A good friend?”

  “Not what you think. Dan and I were neighbors as kids, but he was in a whole different sphere. He was the football star and he married the prom queen. Perfect wife, lovely home, pretty children. Linda was just the nicest gal—she passed away a year or so ago.”

  And if Grace hadn’t held him in special regard all these years, Erin would eat her place mat. “So, I’ll bet he’s lonely now. Just think—his kids are grown, his wife is gone. You and he ever think about getting together?”

  Grace glanced down at her own sturdy build. “Please. I’m not in the market for anyone to sweep me off
my feet. And at my age, I don’t think anyone could do it.”

  “But—”

  “Here’s one of the doctors now.” She raised her arm and motioned, then slid farther into the booth. “I’d appreciate no more mention of Dan Travers, okay?”

  Dr. Jill Edwards appeared at their table a moment later, too thin in her loden-green wool dress, and more than a little distracted. She gave them a strained smile. “I’ve been sent as a messenger. Leland was late starting his rounds at the hospital, and Arnold left early this morning for a seminar in Chicago. I don’t know about Dr. Reynolds. He—”

  Connor appeared at her elbow. “He’s here. A little late, but present.”

  And he must have had to rush, too. His overlong dark hair was windblown, and he brought with him the fresh, cold scent of a blustery fall day.

  He pulled off his leather jacket and hung it on a hook at the end of the booth, then slid in next to Erin, while Jill sat down across from him with a legal tablet in her hand. They both ordered coffee from the waitress who had hurried over.

  Erin scooted a little farther into the booth, but still his broad shoulders brushed against hers. “Glad you could join us,” she murmured, ignoring the physical jolt she’d felt at his touch. Praying that no one noticed her reaction, she edged away.

  Across the table, Grace gave her an all-too-knowing look.

  Jill pulled a pen from her trendy little Dooney & Bourke handbag and made a checkmark next to number one on her list. “All four of us sat down and discussed what we see as the major deficiencies of the hospital, and the stumbling blocks for change. Leland and Arnold agree that we should try to lure more specialists up here to run clinics, maybe once or twice a month. It won’t be easy to attract them, given the history of the hospital. Redecorating the doctor’s lounge, which is still a horrid 1950s mint-green, would help. Remodeling the clinic’s exam rooms would be even better.”

  “I’d been thinking of concentrating on equipment and expansion, but that’s a valid point about the lounge,” Erin said, jotting notes as she spoke. “Maybe a local furniture store would be interested in taking on the project…for free publicity, and exposure to professionals who might well become customers.”