A Teaspoon of Trouble

by Shirley Jump

  Carolyn watched them, blond and brunet heads close together as they added the finishing touches to Emma’s picture of Roscoe. Matt was cracking dorky jokes that made Emma laugh, and she was looking up at him like he was Santa and the Easter Bunny rolled into one. Carolyn realized she had been Emma’s guardian for over a week now and she was no closer to building a bond with her niece than she had been before all this happened. How could she possibly parent a child who was still, essentially, a stranger? A child she couldn’t connect with, no matter how hard she tried?

  The librarian clapped her hands together. “Okay, kids, let’s go listen to a story while our pictures dry!” There was a cheer from the peanut gallery, and the librarian ushered the kids towards a carpeted area in the corner.

  Emma got to her feet, clutching Sandy’s sweater to her chest, and looked back at Carolyn with a question on her face.

  “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

  Emma nodded, then joined the other kids. She sat a little outside the semicircle, quiet and shy. Carolyn wondered if it was the new environment, the distance from the people she knew—even if they were just across the room—that had dimmed Emma’s usual spark. Maybe Emma’s mind was back on her absent mother and father.

  Carolyn and Matt crossed to the sink at the back of the room and scrubbed off the worst of the glue and markers. Their hips bumped from time to time, and she had to tear her gaze away from watching his soapy hands twist in and out of each other as he washed up.

  When they were done, Matt handed her a paper towel. “You did great today,” he said. “You’re craftier than you think.”

  “I ended up with more on my hands than on Emma’s paper. You’re the one who’s great with kids. I just feel so out of my depth here. Put me in a kitchen, and I’m at home. But give me a preschooler to talk to, and…” She let out a long sigh. Emma still sat to the back of the group, alone. “I don’t know how to talk to her.”

  “Just be yourself.”

  She balled up the paper towel and tossed it in the trash. “That’s the problem, Matt. Being myself means being a chef with no experience with kids.”

  His gaze softened. “I meant the self who lost a sister she loves very much. You and Emma have that common bond. If you let her see how much you’re hurting too, she’ll open up.”

  It sounded so simple when Matt said it. Like something she should have realized herself a long time ago. “How do you know this? You don’t even have kids.”

  “No, I don’t.” Matt leaned against the counter and braced his hands on the edge behind him. “But I have sat down with kids in my office and told them that their dog died or their cat had to be put down. When I did, I told them about how hard it was for me to lose Charlie.”

  “I remember that dog. He was amazing.” Friendliest golden retriever in the world. Everywhere Charlie went, someone had a treat for him. Matt had gotten him as a birthday present when he was ten years old, and he’d often said Charlie was the reason he decided he wanted to be a vet.

  “The first week I opened my practice, Charlie got hit by a car.” Matt shook his head. “Some kid who just got his license was driving too fast and had cut through the alley that runs behind the office. Charlie had slipped under the fence—that dog always was a Houdini—and when the car came around the corner, the kid didn’t see the dog until it was too late.” Matt shook his head, and tears glistened in his eyes. “I brought him into my office and tried so hard to save him. The vet tech was the one who finally convinced me his injuries were too severe. He had broken legs, internal bleeding…” He sighed. “There was nothing I could do but let him go.”

  She couldn’t even imagine how hard that had been for Matt. She knew how much he’d loved that dog, how special Charlie had been to Matt, his family, heck, half the town. “I’m so sorry, Matt.” The words sounded hollow, not nearly large enough to capture such a difficult loss.

  “I put him down myself. Hardest damned thing I’ve ever done.” Matt toed at the floor, then lifted his gaze to Carolyn’s. “That experience changed me. Now, when I sit down with a kid who has just lost a beloved pet, I tell them how much Charlie meant to me, and how when he died, I wanted to make sure everyone remembered him—”

  “The picture in the waiting room. That’s Charlie, isn’t it?” She hadn’t realized until now that the image of the happy golden retriever with a tennis ball in his mouth was Matt’s dog. She’d just assumed it was generic veterinarian art.

  Matt nodded. “He’s there to remind me to never lose my heart, and to always remember that people’s pets are family.”

  “You were always good at that,” she said. “Connecting.”

  He’d connected with her the day they met. He’d had this uncanny ability to know her, understand her thoughts. Besides her grandfather, of all the people in this town, Matt had always known her best. Maybe that’s why he had been so hurt that she hadn’t told him she was leaving for New York until it was too late to change her mind. It was the only secret she’d ever kept from him, because she knew he would have tried to change her mind. She might have stayed for a while, but she’d known eventually the itch to leave would drive a wedge between her and Matt.

  “You find common ground, Carolyn. There’s some there, if you look hard enough.”

  She didn’t know about that. Obviously having DNA in common wasn’t enough to find common ground with Emma. There was a good possibility that Carolyn might never find that connection with her niece. That maybe she just wasn’t meant to mother anyone. And that, Carolyn knew, wasn’t fair to Emma.

  The librarian finished the story, and the kids scrambled to their feet and dashed back to the table to get their creations. Emma headed over to them with her coat under one arm, sweater clutched in her fist, and her picture pinched between two fingers. “I’m all done, Aunt Carolyn.”

  “Great. Why don’t we go home and have lunch with Grandma?”

  Emma nodded. “Okay.”

  Carolyn bent down and helped Emma shrug into her coat. She zipped the front, and tugged Emma’s hood over her head. “Maybe later today we can watch a movie or play a game.”

  “Can Grandma play with me?”

  Meaning she was hoping Carolyn would bow out. Carolyn swallowed her disappointment and just said, “Sure.” Maybe she could take that time to go online and scout out a bigger apartment in New York or have the long-overdue phone conversation with her boss at the restaurant about trimming back her hours, which would be impossible if she was head chef…

  Which brought her right back to the same issue. She and Matt headed out of the library, with Emma between them. Matt pushed on the door and held it for the two girls. The cold air hit them with a rush, and Carolyn did a sharp intake. She bent down and tightened Emma’s hood over her hat. “You warm enough, Em?”

  The little girl nodded. “Yup.”

  “If you want,” Matt said, “I can keep Roscoe at my place today and do a little one-on-one training with him. Harley is a good balance for Roscoe’s puppy energy, and I think it’ll help him to see how an older dog acts.”

  “That would be great, thank you.” Maybe he could teach Roscoe to stop chewing things, too. Like the living room pillows, Emma’s new doll, and her mother’s sneakers. That dog needed a crash course before she went back to New York. Or maybe she should hire a dog sitter or find a doggy daycare or something. Yet another thing in her life she didn’t know how to handle, and yet another reason to find a more dog-friendly and kid-friendly apartment. “Let me know what time you want me to pick him up.”

  They stood on the steps of the library, with Emma holding tight to the sweater in one hand and her picture in the other. Two of the other little girls who had been at the craft event came outside and talked to Emma about their pictures, while their mothers exchanged small talk about their kids. The moms formed a circle, with Carolyn on the periphery like a foreigner who didn’t understand the language of bedtimes and potty training and lazy husbands.

  “What are you doing tonigh
t?” Matt asked Carolyn.

  She drew her attention away from the mothers and back to him. “Did you want another baking lesson? If so, we could probably try a sponge cake—”

  “I don’t want a baking lesson.” He stopped. Smiled. “I want to take you out. On a date.”

  The three words hung between them for a second. Had she heard him right? A date? A part of her heart leapt with anticipation, but that common sense half of her brain pushed those feelings aside. “I’m leaving next Sunday night, Matt. What’s the point of dating again?”

  Seven days until she was gone. Seven days until she put this town in her rearview mirror again. Seven days until Matt became just a memory again. The thought saddened her. But she was enough of a realist to know there wasn’t any sense in getting involved with someone she was going to be leaving in a week.

  “Does there have to be a point?” Matt asked. “I want to take you out, the way I should have when I was younger. I was broke and immature back then, but now I’m older and presumably wiser—” he grinned “—and I’d like to treat you to a real date. Get dressed up, go somewhere nice, the whole package.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten dressed up and gone out with a man. She wasn’t even sure she’d packed anything fancy, or even if she had a pair of heels Roscoe hadn’t destroyed.

  “One date won’t change anything, Carolyn. Think of it as two old friends getting together to enjoy a night on the town.”

  “An exciting night in little old Marietta?”

  “This town isn’t nearly as boring as you think,” he said. “And tonight, I want to prove it to you. If at the end of the night, you still think Marietta is dull as sawdust, I’ll…bake you a cake all by myself.”

  “So I get a date and food poisoning?” She laughed, but already, she could feel herself relenting. What was the harm in going out—as friends only? It was a…wager, not a date. Uh-huh. Whatever it took to convince herself. “Okay. You’re on.”

  “Great.” His grin widened. “I’ll see you at six.”

  Only a few hours from now. Anticipation warmed her, offsetting the winter cold. It was nothing more than a date, a dinner, but suddenly, Carolyn felt as giddy and anxious as she had in high school.

  Emma gave her new friends a quick hug, then their mothers gathered them up and headed to the parking lot. Matt bent down to Emma’s level. “I have to go back to work for a little while, but I’m so glad you let me help you with your picture. You did a great job. I think it looks just like Roscoe.”

  “Thank you.” She lifted her gaze to his, and her lower lip trembled. “Do you think my mommy will like it?”

  “I think she already does.” He ruffled Emma’s hair, then straightened. “See you tonight, Carolyn.”

  That sizzle of anticipation became a fire in her gut. And Carolyn knew she was lying to herself if she thought for one second a part of her didn’t want this to become much more than a single date.

  Chapter Eight

  Matt changed clothes three times. Once because Roscoe jumped up and slobbered on him, then the next two times because he waffled between a blue tie or a green tie. He finally remembered Carolyn’s favorite color was blue, and went with that, pairing it with a white button-down shirt, dark blue dress pants, and dress shoes that were still shiny from the last time he’d worn them—to a funeral.

  He loaded Roscoe into the back of his SUV, then drove across town. Roscoe panted and paced the leather seat, then started to whine when he pulled into the driveway of Carolyn’s parents’ home. Matt came around the car, clipped the leash on Roscoe, then led him up the walkway. “You’re home, buddy. Now, remember what I taught you about being patient. Okay?”

  The dog wagged his tail. Let out a soft “woof.”

  “All right. I’m gonna hold you to that.” Matt straightened his tie, then rang the doorbell. A little flutter of nerves started in his gut. He was an adult, for Pete’s sake. He shouldn’t be nervous about taking a woman out to dinner.

  But he was. Because Carolyn was no ordinary woman.

  She opened the door a second later, and he had to take a breath. She was stunning in a dark red dress that hugged her curves and dipped in a delicious V in the front. “You’re on time.”

  “I told you. I grew up.” He grinned, then held the leash out to her. “Here’s your dog, a little bit more obedient.”

  “That I’ve got to see.” She waved Matt in. “What did you teach him?”

  “Patience.” Matt fished in his pocket for the small bag of dog treats. “Watch this.” He motioned to Roscoe. “Lie down.”

  The dog hesitated a second, then sat on his rump and slid his front paws forward until his belly was on the wood floor. Matt took one of the dog treats and laid it on the floor a couple of inches from Roscoe’s nose. “Leave it.”

  Carolyn gave Matt a dubious look. “He’s really going to do that?”

  “Yup.” At his feet, the dog twitched, whined a bit. “Leave it.”

  And Roscoe did. He held perfectly still, muscles tensed, waiting for the command that would let him grab the treat.

  “I can’t believe you taught him that,” Carolyn whispered. “Will it work for anything? Like my shoes?”

  “It should. You need to practice with him, and keep reminding him that you’re in charge. Reward him once in a while, too. Good boy, Roscoe.” Matt flicked a finger at Roscoe. “Okay, get it, Roscoe.”

  The dog jerked forward and ate the treat in one bite. His tail thumped a happy beat against the floor.

  “That is amazing.” She smiled at him, and it felt like his heart lit up, just as it had when they were young and she’d given him that same hundred-watt smile. It rocketed through him, drawing him closer.

  Damn. Maybe this date was a mistake because he was clearly already in too deep.

  Emma came running around the corner. “Hi, Dr. Matt! Yay! Roscoe’s home!” She dropped down to give the dog a tight hug. “I missed you, Roscoe! Did you have fun? I drew a picture of you. Come on, Roscoe. Let’s go see it!”

  The puppy trotted happily behind Emma down the hall to the kitchen. Emma started talking a mile a minute about the picture she’d made, and how she’d hung it on the refrigerator so everyone could see it.

  “How’s she doing?” Matt asked.

  “Better. That picture thing was a great idea. Thank you for that.”

  “No problem.”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re really great with kids. I can barely talk to Emma, and you…connect with her like it’s second nature.”

  “I think you’re doing better than you think, Carolyn.”

  Carolyn shook her head and didn’t respond. He could see the struggle in her, the frustration of fitting into a role she’d never believed she was meant to fill. But he’d also seen her with her niece. Seen her concern and her patience, and most of all, seen how hard she tried to connect. Making that effort was going to count in the long run.

  Before Matt could say anything else, Carolyn’s mother came around the corner and gave Matt a quick hug. “Matt! It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry about that.” Even though he was old enough not to have to use the word ma’am, the terms of respect were embedded in Matt’s vocabulary. His grandmother would always insist on her grandsons using manners in her house, setting up elaborate Sunday family dinners to give the boys experience in social situations, as if they were going to dine with the president someday. He thought of her every time he ate in a restaurant with more forks on the table than waiters in the room.

  Carolyn’s mother looked older, more tired. The grief from losing her eldest daughter filled her eyes and dampened her smile. His heart went out to the Hansons. Losing Sandy at such a young age had hit them hard and would, he suspected, for some time.

  “I’ll let you two go out.” Marilyn gave Carolyn’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry about us. Emma and I have a movie night planned.”

  “Ar
e you sure?” Carolyn asked.

  Her mother nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Carolyn hesitated a little longer. Matt suspected that she was worried her still-grieving mother might be overwhelmed by watching Emma for so many hours. Finally, Carolyn nodded. “Okay. But call me if you need me.” She pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek, called out a goodbye to Emma, then grabbed a coat from the closet.

  They stepped out into the cold and right away, their breath frosted in twin clouds. Carolyn shivered. “Brr. Montana winters. It’s so insanely cold.”

  “At least it snowed a little. Makes everything look prettier. Plus, I cranked the heat on the way over here so the car should be really warm.” He fumbled opening the passenger door and realized he was as nervous tonight as he had been on their first date.

  Carolyn slipped into her seat and smiled up at him. “Better get in on your side before we let all the heat out.”

  “Oh yeah. Sorry.” He’d been too busy staring at her legs, her smile, to realize he was standing there like an idiot, with her door open to the cold. He shut the door, skirted the car, and got in on the other side.

  The drive to Rocco’s Italian Restaurant was short. Like everything in Marietta, the downtown restaurant was close by. Its neoclassic exterior stood out against the Western-style buildings that populated downtown. Beyond that, the rugged peaks of Montana showed their snow-dusted tops.

  “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is here,” Carolyn said. “Watching the sun set behind the mountains…just gorgeous.”

  “There are nights when I stand out on my porch just to watch the sunset,” Matt said. He pulled into the empty bank parking lot at the corner of 1st and Main, and put the car in park. The space offered the best view of the setting sun washing the mountain range with shades of purple and pink, like an artist with a watercolor brush. They had a couple minutes to enjoy the sunset before their reservation at Rocco’s. “Every single one is different and breathtaking in its own way.”