by Karen Rock
His heartbeat drummed as he glanced around Chris’s former home, fighting the urge to leave. Chris should be here. Not him. Guilt bit his gut, but he ignored it, needing to stay for Chris’s family, for Kayleigh and—as she’d pointed out—for himself. On the bus ride over, he’d questioned his impulsive decision. What difference could he make? Kayleigh had said he was closed off, incapable of being open. And while he knew she was right, accepted it, something about her accusation had spurred him to action for reasons he couldn’t figure out. He’d been comfortable in his insular world until Kayleigh came along. Now he didn’t know what he felt or wanted.
Niall caught a questioning look between Beth and Kayleigh before Beth turned and gave him a tired smile.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, hitching Samuel higher on her hip. The boy clung to her side, his legs wrapped around her waist, his head buried in her neck. Beth bounced on the balls of her feet, making the boy’s lids snap open.
“Hi, soldier,” Samuel slurred when he spotted Niall, raising his hand as they edged into the small kitchen. Low-hanging cabinets dominated the windowless space, a light fixture with one working bulb the only illumination. Beth should replace the bulbs, but with her hands full, chores like that probably fell to the bottom of her list. Regret filled Niall. As a single mother, Beth had to work twice as hard to keep her family afloat. At least she had Kayleigh, and now...him.
“How are you feeling, little man?” Niall tousled Samuel’s dark hair and felt an egg-size bump above his left ear. It had to hurt, but the kid wasn’t complaining. Admiration mingled with concern. The boy was as tough as his father, and war memories, sharp as a mouthful of glass, returned.
He caught sight of a drawing clipped to the fridge that depicted the boys and their mother, a stick figure with wings, labeled Dad flying above them. Sudden anxiety tied knots in his stomach. Was he ready for this?
“Can I take a nap now?” When Samuel angled his neck to look up at his mother, he winced and clutched his head. “Ouch.”
“Not yet, sweetie.” Kayleigh dropped her briefcase on the linoleum floor and smoothed her hand over the boy’s red cheek, her fingers slow and deliberate. “Mommy needs to take you to the doctor.”
“I don’t want to go.” Samuel’s large eyes filled with fear. “Why do I have to go?”
“Because I’m all out of lollipops and Dr. Stein has the best ones.” Beth tickled Samuel’s curved belly, and his eyes brightened, his missing front tooth showing in a wide grin.
“I want a green one.” His fingers twirled his mother’s light brown curls.
“You can have all of the green ones they have as long as you’re good. No sticking your hand in the fish tank.” Beth’s stern tone was offset by the kiss she pressed to his forehead.
Samuel returned her kiss with a loud smacking sound. “I’m always good. Josh is mean.”
“You’re both good, but Josh, well, he sometimes makes mistakes,” Beth said cautiously, her eyes darting to a wall across the narrow hall. “And I’m sure he’s sorry.”
“Not sorry!” screamed a muffled voice from behind the wall. A thumping kick rattled an unseen door that Niall guessed opened onto another hall to the left. He shook his head at the flimsy materials that partitioned these older homes. Too bad the thin barrier let Josh hear the exchange.
“See! He hates me.” Samuel’s eyes watered, and when he brought his thumb to his mouth, Beth caught and kissed it, her expression stricken.
“He doesn’t hate you.” Kayleigh cupped the youngster’s soft chin, the tender gesture doing something funny to Niall’s heart.
A young boy wearing a Yankees cap tugged on Beth’s pants. “Mrs. R! Austin smells bad.”
“Poopy diaper! Poopy diaper! Poopy diaper!” a girl’s voice chanted from the living room.
Beth made as if to lower Samuel, but the boy tightened his hold around her neck and a small choking sound escaped her.
Kayleigh handed Beth her purse. “We’ve got this. Take Sam. Niall and I will stay as long as you need. We’re a good team.” Her eyes met his, and they stared at each other for a breathless moment. Finally, she smiled at his jerky nod. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
A rush of air left Beth. “Thank you, Kay.” She whirled at the door, her eyes darting toward him. “Both of you. I appreciate this. The kids get lunch in a half hour, then nap time after that. Hopefully, I’ll be back before they wake. I called the parents, so some might pick up their children. To be on the safe side, check IDs and, ah, I think that’s it.”
“We’ll keep them safe,” Niall assured her, liking the sound of we. Once again, his eyes met Kayleigh’s. She’d called them a team, and her word brought back a forgotten sense of belonging, a feeling of being wanted, necessary.
It was like realizing he hadn’t eaten all day, the rushing sensation of need taking him by surprise.
Beth stepped outside then turned again, her features pinched. “Oh—a couple more things. Kayleigh, your mom happened to call when all this was going on, and I haven’t been able to phone her back. If you get a chance, could you let her know the grandkids are okay? And don’t worry about Josh. He’s fine in his room. I would have sent him there as punishment anyway, minus the video games. But since the door is locked, just let him play them. I’ll talk to him when I get back.” Her voice turned fierce, and she gripped her sister-in-law’s arm. “Kay, we need to get him in the anger-management program.”
Kayleigh gave Beth and Samuel a hug. “One thing at a time, okay? Everything will work out.”
Beth stared upward for a moment, then pressed her lips together before nodding. Niall’s hands tightened at his sides. He wished there was something he could say or do to reassure her about Josh. He was an angry kid. And he had a right to be. Life had dealt him a bad hand, and it pulverized Niall’s insides to think that he was responsible.
The dark-haired beauty beside him shifted. When her arm grazed his, the small hairs on his skin rose. Kayleigh was loyal. Always had been. Until she was able to provide for her nephews, she would never quit. And he’d make sure she succeeded. He could help that way.
Beth wavered outside, her pale face as troubled as he suddenly felt. What if Senator Gillibrand got the declassification request approved before he finished the app? He shot an anxious glance Kayleigh’s way and couldn’t return her reassuring nod.
His body temperature dropped, and he grew numb. If they knew the truth about him and Chris, they’d kick him out of their lives. Kayleigh would be left with an unfinished product and a failed start-up. Beth would face even more financial struggles.
In the end, he grabbed a set of keys on the counter and handed them to Beth, his mind racing. He had to write the program fast. It was his way of being loyal. Supportive. Making amends, although that was only a small part of it. This wasn’t about him. It was about helping his friend and a troubled family he was coming to care about.
Kayleigh gave Beth a gentle shove. “Go. We’ve got this.”
Niall eyed the chaos in the living room and hoped so. The door had barely clicked shut before Kayleigh disappeared into the screaming hoard of kids. He trailed behind her, assessing the scene.
The sounds of the quarrelling children brought his childhood back to him. Hadn’t his six siblings and he acted like this? Aiden had taken charge when he’d been twenty-one, and although he’d been young, he’d done his best. Looking back, Niall felt a new appreciation for his bachelor brother who’d given up so much to keep the family and their business together.
“Do you think you can handle them while I change him?” Kayleigh waved her arm at the milling children while she held a crying infant—Austin, he guessed. At his nod, she shot him a relieved look, mouthed, “Sorry” and headed for a back room.
The din grew louder still as two children screamed and pulled on opposite ends of a stuffed dinosaur while
white fluff snowed from its arm. Another youngster grabbed the TV remote and ran from a screeching pursuer. One of the “musicians” repeatedly slammed a xylophone onto the varnished oak floor, making Niall’s ears ring.
“Attention!” he said with a quiet, carrying authority that instantly silenced the group. The stuffed animal bounced to the ground, and the racing children skidded to a halt.
“Sit,” he commanded, the familiar mantle of an older sibling settling over him. He’d frequently taken charge of the smaller Walshes when Aiden and MaryAnne had tended to the pub downstairs. The six kids scrambled to the floor and sat with crossed ankles.
A thin arm shot in the air, and he studiously ignored it. After a moment of eyeing each of the children until they stopped squirming, he nodded curtly to the waving girl.
“Are you the president?” A giggle wove through her high-pitched voice, a polka-dotted ribbon unraveling around one of her uneven pigtails.
He bit back a laugh but couldn’t stop the twitch that lifted the corners of his mouth.
“No. But I—I—” The feeling of levity vanished when he realized what he’d been about to confess.
“You’re a soldier!” the boy in the baseball hat piped up, guessing the ending of Niall’s unfinished sentence. The kid slid onto his knees then tucked his hands beneath his thighs. “That’s why you said attention.” He turned to the pigtailed girl beside him. “They all say that in the movies.”
“Can we play war?” A freckled boy with bright red hair dug in his ear then examined his finger. “Everyone here is my prisoner.”
“I want to be a Green Beret!” shouted a girl with hair so fine it seemed to float around her like a golden halo.
Something heavy thudded against Josh’s door, snapping Niall out of his fog. “No war. Not in this house.” He forced himself to point at a large picture of Chris that hung above a credenza. His rescuer was garbed in his dress uniform, his smile certain, his bearing confident. Niall opened his mouth to elaborate, but the words dissolved on his tongue like a bitter pill.
“Sam’s daddy is dead,” the girl in pigtails said in awed tones that carried in the sudden silence. Josh’s door shook when another object smacked against it. Niall fought the urge to talk to the kid, but until he got this group under control, his hands were tied.
“He’s a hero.” The freckled boy puffed out his chest. “I’m going to be one, too, someday.”
“Dead!” Josh’s harsh voice came through the door. “That means you’ll be dead, because heroes die.”
“Pipe down, Josh,” Niall ordered when one of the girls covered her face, and her shoulders shook. Distraction worked when dealing with crowd control. His eyes wandered the room and settled on a stack of books close at hand. “Who wants to hear a story about another kind of hero?” He grabbed one from the pile and sat on the sofa.
The children scooted closer on their backsides, their attempt to obey his order to sit making him smile.
He held up the book, and the little girls clapped while the boys groaned.
“Beauty and the Beast. Eeew. That’s a girl book.” One of the boys pulled his cap low over his eyes. “Wake me when it’s over.”
“Who said it’s just for girls?” Niall growled in his Beast voice, and the kids squealed, and a couple fell backward, their legs kicking toward the ceiling.
“Do it again!” The girl with the pigtails bounced on her heels, her ribbon pooling on the floor beside her.
“Is everyone ready to hear the story?” he asked in his regular voice once the group quieted.
All six hands shot in the air, and one of the boys growled, “Yes,” making them all laugh.
He launched into the story. Since it was the same version he read to his sister, he knew where to stop for dramatic pauses, how to switch up his voice from the braggart Gaston to the well-meaning elderly father to the prickly, growling Beast. His voice was the only sound in the room, and when he finished, a collective sigh rose from the group.
An appreciative whistle from the doorway brought his head around, and Kayleigh’s light, approving eyes felt like warm hands on his face. With a baby in her arms, her dark curls tumbling around her long neck, she looked as beautiful and classic as a fairy-tale princess.
Longing seized him. Someday she’d be holding her own child. Whose? Unease roiled in his gut. Not his, that much he knew. She’d never forgive him when she learned what’d happened with Chris. He’d promised Kayleigh that everything would be aboveboard from now on, that he’d be honest. Although he’d tacked on as much as I can so that he wouldn’t break the vow, the guilt of keeping the secret rushed back. It was the ocean that divided them. The riptide that pulled them apart.
“I didn’t know you could do that.” Her smile flashed, and she placed the baby in a swing before coming closer.
“I have three younger siblings.” He shrugged as casually as her nearness allowed. “Nightly reading was the only way I could get them to bed.”
She nodded appreciatively, a brilliant smile blossoming. Her admiration spread like a sweet heat in his chest, and he smiled. A real smile. The expression felt odd on his face, and he wondered how long he’d been scowling without knowing it. Yet when he caught his grinning reflection in the glass of Chris’s framed photo, reality crashed over him. What had he done except entertain some kids? It wasn’t as if he deserved a medal for it. His eyes flickered to Chris again.
“Do it again. Read it again!” shouted the girls, but the boys wanted him to read Jack and the Beanstalk, which, although he hadn’t practiced it before, was easy to do since the Giant’s voice was as loud and intimidating as the Beast’s.
Kayleigh’s foot accidentally brushed his from time to time, making him stumble over his words or lose his place. Being this close to her, without the invisible business barrier between them, felt personal and intimate. He admired the tender way she held a child who’d crawled into her lap when his voice grew loud. She was a loving aunt and a kind person. Always had been. Circumstances in her life had changed, but she hadn’t.
He was glad she was still the caring, determined person he’d always known and, he couldn’t deny it anymore, he was glad he was getting to know her again. Would he miss her when they parted? The certainty that yes, he would, gripped him, and he froze. He’d have to keep his guard up, or he’d end up wanting what he could never have. What he didn’t deserve.
“I’m hungry,” one of the boys said after Niall had finished.
Kayleigh stood, and a shaft of sunlight backlit her, gilding her in gold. “How’s bologna-and-cheese sandwiches sound with carrot sticks and dip?”
“Can we have cookies, too?” The girl with the fine hair leaped to her feet, blond strands streaming behind her like a parachute.
“If you eat all of your lunch,” replied Kayleigh, her voice soft but firm.
“Want help?” When he stood, he realized, too late, how close they were. Her breath felt warm against his neck.
She stepped back and peered up at him, the delicate lines of her eyebrows smoothing out. “No. I’ve got it. Why don’t you entertain the kids?”
He looked around and saw them busily returning to a set of LEGO blocks while the girls thumbed through books. They seemed all right on their own.
“Actually, I’ll go and talk to Josh.” He nodded at the door. “He’s been quiet in there too long.”
She cocked her head and studied at him, her eyes unreadable. Surprise? Admiration? Caution? All of the above? At last she dropped her gaze, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. “It can’t hurt. Especially if you can calm him down before Beth and Sam get back. Thank you,” she said quietly, making an odd fidgeting gesture with her hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come here. To prove something. I understand why going out isn’t easy for you.”
They studied each other
for a long moment, until everyone else ceased to exist. There was so much he could say but much more that he shouldn’t. Better to keep it simple. He forced a casual shrug. “I just thought you could use the help.”
The color of her eyes was the silvery flash of fish in forest streams. “You helped a lot. I needed you.” Her face reddened, and her lips made a wry twist. “I mean, I needed your help. Thanks.”
“That’s what partners are for, right?” he asked, steering the conversation somewhere safer and looking anywhere but at her lovely face. There was something about her expressive features, the shades of meaning she conveyed with the twitch of an eyebrow, a tilt of her chin, a lift of her lips that made it hard not to stare. With effort, he headed to Josh’s room and knocked.
“Go away!” Josh’s voice sounded hoarse, as though he’d been crying.
Niall leaned against the doorjamb. “Just making sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” But again, Niall heard something off in the kid’s voice. He wasn’t fine.
“I disagree.” He pressed his forehead against the flimsy particleboard door. Such a small barrier, yet it insulated Josh from the hurts he’d inflicted. Did it buffer him from the ones he felt inside?
The rapid gunfire of a video game sounded, followed by a loud explosion that made Josh yelp. “I just lost this level! Leave me alone. You’re ruining my game, and I don’t want to talk.”
Niall thought for a moment, having no other response but the truth. “Neither do I.” Talking wasn’t his thing, but he needed to make sure Josh was okay. He exchanged an anxious glance with Kayleigh as she led one of the girls to the bathroom down the small hallway.
“What did you say?” The video-game noise paused, Josh’s surprised question loud.
“You heard me.” Niall wondered what Chris would have said if he were here. How would he have handled this? He thought back to his own childhood brawls. Siblings fought, and sometimes one of them got hurt. If Josh would let him in, he’d tell him that he wasn’t a monster. Not the bad guy, though it was hard to believe that when you unintentionally caused collateral damage. The kid was hurting, no matter how mad he sounded. “Now open up.”