by Megan Kelly
“It would have given you time to say goodbye, yes, but time also for her girls to watch her die slowly and probably painfully.”
“Right, I get that.” He swung away and paced a few steps. Stopping with his back to her, his sigh was still audible. “Then she died anyway.”
“Were the girls there, wherever she was, at home or the hospital?” Her heart ached.
He snorted. “She was at home.”
Disgust? Pain? Ginger couldn’t read him. What prompted that response? “Did you have hospice care? Or hadn’t her cancer advanced to that stage?”
“No hospice yet, but we had talked to them. We had a visiting nurse. Sam didn’t want a lot of people around. She would say, ‘Go out, do something.’ One day, she asked me to take the girls to the Georgia Aquarium there in Atlanta. We’d been putting off a trip. Never got around to it, you know how that goes.”
He shook his head. “So I took the girls, and they loved it. I loved it. We laughed and ate lunch out and just took a breather. We had a great time for over two hours. I thought Sam was a genius to suggest the break for all of us. So generous.” He turned to look at Ginger. “So freaking generous.”
Ginger read the truth in his tortured expression. “She died while you were gone.”
“She took a handful of pain meds.”
Shock made her gasp as cold swept through her body. “Oh, God.”
“Yeah. Exactly. She got us out of the house and downed them right away so they’d take effect by the time we got home. Took enough not to wake up and vomit them back out.”
“Scott.” She rose, instinct urging her to go to him, but she didn’t. There was no comfort in the world for his pain. Embracing him while he spoke of his lost love felt too awkward.
“We got home and I thought she was asleep. Resting peacefully wasn’t easy for her with the level of pain she was in. So I left her alone, glad—actually glad—she was able to sleep.” He laughed harshly. “Little did I know she was resting in peace, literally.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“She was so damned selfish!”
Ginger started, the intensity of his anger causing her to take a reflexive step backward. Eyes wide, she watched his fists curl and release, curl and release, as he battled his rage.
“At times I hate her.”
“No, you don’t.” He’d despise himself even more for those feelings; worse, for voicing them.
“Yes, I do. It isn’t nice to admit and I know I’m a horse’s ass for feeling this way.” He blew out a breath. “But she left me. Abandoned our children. I can’t forgive her for that.”
“But think of her torment. Having to face dying. She was probably in unimaginable pain, as well.”
“That was her choice. At that point, anyway. She wouldn’t take her damn meds.” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t realize she was just hoarding them to kill herself.”
He fell onto the sofa and tipped his head back with closed eyes.
She perched on the cushion next to him. He dealt with loss and betrayal, anger and love. Watching him, feeling helpless, made her throat ache with suppressed tears. “I’m sorry.”
Without moving his head, he met her gaze, then gently pulled her against him. “Just let me hold you for a while, okay? I promise I’ll calm down. Don’t be afraid. It would kill me if you were afraid of me.”
She snuggled closer, wrapping her arms around him. He must have noticed her backward step and study of his fisting hands then misread her concern for his torment as fear for herself. “I’m not afraid of you.”
They didn’t talk for a long time. Only held and stroked and cuddled. His trust in her at this moment of vulnerability touched her more deeply than the lengthiest declaration of love.
WHEN SCOTT CALLED A FEW DAYS later, feelings of tenderness flooded Ginger. Despite her plans to carry through with a private adoption, she couldn’t walk away from Scott now after finding out about his loss. The raw emotion she’d uncovered with her prodding about his wife hadn’t had time to heal.
In her heart lingered the hope of becoming a family. As often as she squashed it, as often as she lectured herself about the difficulties involved in not only becoming the girls’ stepmother but bringing a newborn into the mix, Ginger still fantasized about a life with Scott.
She found herself agreeing to go with him to buy dog food. Of all the lame excuses. She rolled her eyes even as it made her smile. Such an adorable man, making up a goofy reason to see her. There were worse ways to spend a Saturday.
“You really need help buying dog food?”
“You wouldn’t believe how confusing it is,” his voice came over the phone, into her ear, into her heart. “There are millions of brands. I don’t want to get something to make a puppy sick because he’s unable to digest it. As big as he is, it’s hard to remember he’s only a few months old. God help us, he’s going to grow. You’d be doing Horace a favor.”
She capitulated, as she owed him the chance to do something normal with her. To erase the lingering sadness of their last time together. Plus, she simply wanted to be with him.
And, it turned out, with the girls. Surprise swept her when she spotted them sitting in the backseat of Scott’s orange Jeep. Not unwelcome, but unexpected. Shelby didn’t care for her at school; Ginger dating her dad had to be on the girl’s top ten list of least favorite things.
Ginger felt their eyes boring into her as they drove to the pet store. Still, she needed to spend time with them, too. If she was going to have any kind of a relationship with their father, it had to work for all of them. Even if she and Scott just helped each other through the next few months of changes in their lives, the girls couldn’t be left out.
“There are cheaper places to buy food, you know.” She couldn’t shake feeling unnerved by the girls’ silence. It didn’t help that they sat behind her, out of sight, a place she’d never seat a difficult student in her classroom.
Whoever Scott dated served as a role model for the girls, since they didn’t have a mother. They’d learn how to be a woman from her and how to be in a relationship. The task seemed daunting, and one she would embrace with her own child someday. But not now, with their built-in animosity of Ginger not being their mother but filling the role their own mother wasn’t there to fill. Tension tightened her shoulders.
“The pet store is a favorite stop of ours now.” Scott shot her an amused look as he drove. “We go in and look at the small dogs we might have adopted, had Horace not grabbed our hearts.”
“We don’t want any other dog, not even a small dog,” Serena inserted, taking him seriously. “I don’t care if he knocks me down sometimes. I love Horace and so does Shelby. Don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Nothing more than the monosyllable from Shelby. Ginger held in her sigh. It was going to be a long day.
She turned halfway toward them, sharing the conversation with those in the back of the car. Okay, she admitted. Their staring was getting to her.
“How’s the housebreaking going?” she asked anyone who cared to answer. She’d bet ten bucks it wouldn’t be her student, but she doubted she’d find anyone to take that bet. Well… She studied Scott in her periphery. Did his daughter’s antagonism even register with him? Or did he see Shelby’s comments as normal for the circumstances—her loss combined with Ginger being her teacher out with the family? Or did he not pay attention to the girl’s tone at all? Men couldn’t even hear tone, whereas women—and girls of eight, it seemed—used it as a layer of communication.
Ginger had a harder time figuring out Serena’s feelings. Partly because she hadn’t spent as much time around toddlers as second graders, naturally, but partly because the girl stared more than talked. Not glared, just studied her. Relentlessly. Ginger felt Serena’s eyes on her as though they were live things crawling across her skin. But what thoughts lurked behind the watchfulness, Ginger didn’t know.
“We’re successful with getting him to wait,” Scott answered, “more and mor
e often. Right, girls?”
Serena’s curly head bobbed. Someone had tried to secure her chestnut waves in barrettes, but one had already inched down to the girl’s chin and the other sat precariously near her ear. Another five bucks would say the girl brushed and styled her own hair. She really needed someone to take better care of the details. Her father could do it if he paid attention. Or a mother, of course, and Ginger tried to dislodge the stone pressing on her chest. She wished it could be her.
Or an older sister could manage it. Ginger eyed Shelby’s sleek, almost-black hair, pulled back in a neat ponytail, with a ribbon to match her purple shirt. Maybe Serena didn’t like to have her hair brushed by anyone else and that was why they didn’t help her. Maybe the little girl doing it herself demonstrated some kind of independence good for her self-esteem.
Maybe Ginger was rationalizing so she didn’t have to face her own yearning to mother the girl.
“So,” she said, returning to the topic of the dog, “how’s the other stuff coming? Serena, is Horace still knocking you down?”
“No. I talked to him about it.”
Ginger blinked and turned farther around in her seat belt to face the girls. “You…talked to him?”
“Yep. Dad said Horace didn’t understand that he’s almost as big as me and could hurt me. That he has a big body he can’t control yet, like jumping or going potty in the house. And I’m older than him and so I have to understand that he would do things but wouldn’t mean them. It’s like I’m a big sister.”
Scott smiled, eyes on the road.
“So you talked to Horace?”
The brown head bobbed again. “Yep. I told him he needed to stop jumping. That I could hit my head or break a bone and then I wouldn’t be able to play with him. That made him sad, and he hasn’t jumped on me again.”
Ginger bit her lip to hold in her laughter. She could just picture this little angel having a heart-to-heart with a dog roughly her weight and size. When it was sitting. “That was clever of you to explain it to him.”
Serena shrugged. “Daddy told me Horace didn’t understand. Since he can’t ask questions, I just had to tell him.”
An image of the hairy black puppy raising his paw to ask a question, as though a student in her class, made Ginger giggle.
“Now,” Scott said, “if her talks to him about potty training would take, and the ones about chewing everything in sight, I’d be a happier man.”
“Doesn’t he have a chew toy?” Ginger asked. “I thought you bought one or two the day you brought him home.”
“We did. And dozens since then.” He shook his head, clearly mystified why the dog didn’t chew on them instead.
“When you catch him chewing your stuff, take it away, say no, then give him the bone or rope or whatever as a replacement.
“Shelby.” Ginger addressed the girl directly, hoping to draw her into the conversation. “Where does he sleep?”
“Downstairs.”
Two syllables. Progress.
“Daddy won’t let him sleep in our beds,” Serena said. “I promised we wouldn’t fight over him, but he said Horace needs his own spot.”
“You might consider giving him one of your blankets for his bed downstairs—in the mudroom?” She glanced at Scott, who nodded. “Then he’d feel like you were with him if the blanket smelled like all three of you. Maybe use it on the couch for a week then make it his.”
Serena’s face scrunched up in thought. Shelby peered hard out the window, blatantly giving the appearance of not listening. Ginger remembered thinking she’d either love Shelby’s spirit or the girl would prove to be the biggest headache in her class. Today it was a toss-up.
“Why?” Serena asked with her endless preschooler curiosity.
“So he can smell you and feel that you’re near him,” Ginger said. She tried not to form an attachment to this girl in case nothing came of her and Scott’s relationship. She tried not to have a favorite between his daughters. Being an older sibling was hard enough for Shelby, worse when the younger had the charm or sweet nature or sunny disposition everyone loved.
Ginger froze. Did Shelby seek out those tendencies to be different from her sister? She’d seen it often enough as a teacher—why hadn’t she thought of it before? The twins in her class, Harry and Ron, were perfect examples. One loved math, the other one was indifferent, although their grades were the same in the subject. One worked with his hands building with manipulative blocks; the other preferred writing. One played any sporting game the kids started; the other cheered from the sidelines.
Was Shelby a deliberate challenge because her baby sister was so open? Was Shelby difficult because her sister was so adorable?
Ginger put aside those thoughts for another time and answered Serena’s query. “Puppies chew because they’re getting stronger teeth, just like human babies. But what they want to chew on is usually something belonging to their family. Socks, shoes, toys.”
“So the blanket would make him not chew up Daddy’s shoes no more? Because Horace seems to like those best.”
Ginger chuckled at the pained expression on Scott’s face. “I can’t promise that, but it might help. Replacing the shoe with a rawhide bone or some chew toy would be better because you’re teaching him how you want him to behave instead of just telling him no.”
“I’ll try anything,” Scott said. “It’s getting harder and harder to find places to put things where Horace can’t reach. He’s pretty determined.”
“Careful there, buddy.” Ginger grinned and poked his arm. “You’re starting to sound proud of him. Someone might mistakenly get the impression you like him.”
Shelby glared at her. Ginger needed to curtail the familiarity.
“Oh, Daddy likes him,” Serena assured her. “He plays with Horace all the time.”
“There are no secrets in this family,” Scott muttered.
“While you’re shopping today, let’s pick him out some new chew toys. I’ve heard a rope is good for a bigger dog.”
“Humph” came from the seat beside her.
They pulled into the parking lot of the pet store moments later, sliding in between a car with a kennel in the backseat and a huge pile of plowed snow. Ginger noticed Shelby unbuckle Serena as though without thought, probably by habit. Shelby could be a sweetheart at times.
They pushed a cart down one aisle, both girls too big for the seat. Another point in favor of a baby—she’d be able to keep an eye on an infant while she got the hang of mothering. These two, with their impulsive interest in anything catching their eyes, could disappear at any time.
A huge bag of dry Puppy2Adult mix went in the cart, muscled by Scott.
“How long will that bag last?” Ginger asked.
“The vet said all puppies eat four times a day, so about a week.” Scott shrugged. “He’s not supposed to eat more than a normal dog does once he’s grown. I hope the guy’s right.”
Serena put a box of dog treats in the cart. Shelby carried a chew toy—not a rope as Ginger had suggested—but didn’t put it in the basket, despite several urgings.
“Oh, my,” a woman said behind them.
They turned as though the four of them were one unit. An older woman with gray hair and as many wrinkles as a shar-pei beamed at them.
“It’s so nice to see a family out together. I shop here often for my cats. Most times, I see a mom or dad running in alone. Always in a hurry, you young people.”
“We’re not a family,” Shelby put in.
First time the girl had offered a complete sentence all day.
Scott shifted uncomfortably. Ginger smiled at the other customer. “He and I are just friends.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t married.” The woman smiled down at the girls. It seemed as though her eyes actually twinkled. “This man will make your mother very happy. I can sense these things.”
“She’s not our mother. He’s our dad. Our mother’s…” Shelby hung her head. “Not here.
”
“Oh, dear. My mistake. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.”
Ginger smiled at her. “It’s no big deal.”
“You probably hear that a lot, that you look like a family.” The woman seemed visibly relieved as she retreated a step. “I’m glad you’re not upset. That could have been awkward.”
“Not awkward at all, ma’am.” Scott put a hand on Shelby’s shoulder and one on Serena’s head. “I’ll claim them as mine, since they’re both behaving at the moment.”
She turned to Ginger. “The resemblance is much stronger with you.”
“That’s ’cause she looks like our mommy,” Serena declared.
Ginger’s breath whooshed out of her. She forgot to inhale. Her head went light, her mind blank. Instinct kicked in and she drew in a sharp breath. She looked like Samantha? Sam looked like her?
“She does not!” Shelby threw the chew toy on the floor and glared at the three adults. “Serena doesn’t remember. She’s just a baby. I know.”
“Am not,” Serena cried, cheeks flushing red with anger. Steam could have burst from her ears, she was so upset.
“Are too.”
“Girls,” Scott said with a stern frown.
They subsided instantly.
One word from their father calmed the swell of the tide. Ginger wished it had the same effect on her, that her heart no longer beat against the rocks, in time with her careening thoughts, ebbing and surging with bewilderment.
She looked like Sam? Is that who he saw when he kissed her? Is that what had attracted him to her at the Christmas party? A knot formed in her stomach. It couldn’t be coincidence.
And she’d worried about the girls regarding her as a substitute.
He smiled at the woman, his eyes bleak. “I apologize for my daughters.”
His accent poured out, thick as praline sauce. Ah ahpahlogize for mah dahters.
The woman blushed and backed away.
“Don’t you worry about it, ma’am.” Scott’s smile remained in place until the woman retreated, almost running the last steps in her embarrassment.