* * *
“Delicious.” Alex eyed the Crock-Pot, then his plate, and sighed. “We put a serious hurting on that meal.”
“What does that mean?” Josh peered at his father and made a face. “Why would we hurt the food somebody brought?”
“It’s an expression,” Lisa told him. She reached over and swiped a smear of barbecue sauce from his face. “It means we liked it a lot.”
“Like saying something’s ‘sick’ when you mean amazing,” Emma explained.
Josh rolled his eyes. “You could just say what you mean, couldn’t you?”
The perfect teachable moment, Alex decided. He leaned over and met his son’s gaze. “That would be too simple, my boy. And when you’re dealing with women...” He lifted a slow, easy gaze that swept Lisa, Becky and Emma. “It doesn’t hurt to have an interpreter around to figure them out.”
“Hey.”
“Hey!” Emma joined Lisa’s softer protest and smiled like she used to before Jenny’s illness and death robbed part of her childhood. “Dad, did you know that Grandma came and helped today?”
“She did?” Surprised, Alex stood to gather plates. Lisa put a hand out to stop him. He turned, puzzled.
“Emma’s clearing and rinsing. Becky’s loading the dishwasher.”
“Oh.” Alex gave the list on the wall a quick glance. “I forgot.”
“If you do our chores for us, we’ll never raise enough money for a dog,” Becky scolded.
Emma stopped, surprised, lips pursed. A light whistle sounded through her teeth.
Becky clapped a hand to her mouth. She flashed Emma a look of consternation. Emma returned it with one of overdone impatience.
They wanted a dog. And the reason they wanted a dog and were afraid to tell him was because he’d given away their oversize puppy when Jenny went into hospice. He hadn’t been able to deal with three little kids, a dying wife, a job and an overzealous, playful eight-month-old pup with a penchant for destroying couch cushions, books, screen doors and sneakers.
From the looks on his daughters’ faces, they still missed the puppy.
Guilt stabbed again. He should have hired help. He should have crated the dog more often. He should have—
Lisa’s voice interrupted his internal scoldings. “Why don’t you and I take a walk outside while the girls finish up? Josh? Would you like to come, too?”
“Yes.” Josh grabbed his baseball mitt and a ball. He tossed a larger mitt to Alex. “Can we play catch, Dad?”
“Sure.” Alex swung the door wide. He let Lisa pass through, then Josh, but once they were outside, he caught up with them and reached for her hand. “Nice save.”
She made a face toward the house. “Losing someone you love has so many ripple effects. And you don’t know which ones will be most harmful until it’s too late to change them.”
“I shouldn’t have given away their dog.”
“Oh, Alex.” She smiled up at him and in that smile he saw the compassion of a woman who didn’t stand in judgment. A woman who understood like no one else could because she’d walked the walk. “I wish you could see how well you’ve done. You’re a perfectionist.”
Was he? Well, yes. Kind of. “In some ways.”
Her deepened smile acknowledged the understatement. “When perfectionists get hit with things they can’t control, they run around trying to control what they can. Eventually they realize they’re not quite as all-powerful as they once believed.”
“You discovered that while fighting cancer?”
She turned more fully to him as Josh moved several yards away, getting ready to throw the ball. “And while nursing my sick mother. And when my husband realized he couldn’t handle a bionic wife who may or may not be a ticking time bomb.”
“You were married?”
“Yes.”
“He left because of your cancer?” Derision that anyone could do that ignited a deep-seated anger. The intensity of the sentiment surprised him.
Lisa’s gaze stayed calm as she nodded, but he had no problem seeing the old pain in her eyes. He had to fight the urge to soothe that hurt away. Brighten her gaze.
“Dad! You ready?”
Josh’s voice ended the conversation. Lisa stepped to one side and smiled as the little boy pegged a not-so-accurate throw to Alex. Alex scooped the ball off the ground and returned the throw gently.
Josh missed, but grabbed the ball up and threw it back.
Lisa relaxed into one of the twin Adirondack-style chairs flanking the fire pit. She smiled as they tossed the ball, and when Josh finally caught one in his mitt, she jumped out of the chair, fist-pumped the air and squealed as if the kid just hit one out of the park.
Alex loved her overreaction. The joy it put on Josh’s face, the ease it softened in his heart. He’d missed this camaraderie, the warmth of a partnership with a strong woman. But he couldn’t risk fooling himself. Lisa’s health issues were nothing to be taken lightly. He knew that. So why wouldn’t this attraction abate? Why didn’t the common sense of the situation send them both running?
“Lisa, we’re done.” Becky’s voice trailed into the deepening night. “Can you braid my hair now?”
“Coming.”
She stood and moved toward the house as if she belonged there, and Alex couldn’t help but notice the way the evening shadows outlined the feminine curves of her lanky body, the easy stride of an accomplished woman, comfortable with herself.
He liked that about her. In truth, he liked a lot of things about her. The quick smile, her saucy demeanor, the quick repartee. She “got” him and that felt good.
Children’s voices filled the air as he put away a few straggling toys before moving toward the house. Behind the laughter another voice stood out. Deeper. Crisper. Funny.
Lisa’s womanly tone complemented the girls’ higher pitch and Josh’s tired whine. As he walked through the door, he noticed the kitchen first off. “Girls. Great job.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Emma glanced up from her book long enough to note his return, then buried herself in the extra wide chair once more.
“I did awesome, didn’t I?” Becky preened at him from the breakfast barstool, her smiling face meeting his. She’d always needed that extra bit of reassurance, and sometimes tough love. When he saw her there, content, chores done, with Lisa braiding her long blond hair, his heart did a double take.
They presented a Dianne Dengel–type portrait in living color. Josh, flopped over a chair, tired, rumpled, close to losing it as the hour wore on. Emma, pristine in her fictional world, oblivious. Becky, soaking up the attention of the tall woman behind her...
And Lisa, smiling, chatting softly to Becky as her fingers made short work of some inside-out braiding maneuver Alex hadn’t come close to mastering. He could tie any knot known to modern man, but braiding his daughter’s long locks?
Not his forte.
“Isn’t it pretty, Daddy?”
He smiled down at Becky, nodded and touched her chin with one finger. “Not pretty. Beautiful.”
Becky glowed, pleased.
He lifted his gaze and let his eyes linger on Lisa until she glanced up. Paused. Her hands stilled, seeing his look. Reading the intent. “Absolutely beautiful,” he said again. He held Lisa’s attention until she caved under his scrutiny. Her fingers fumbled the last inches of hair. Her breathing accelerated.
If he had the right, he’d feather a kiss to her cheek right here and now. Whisper something in her ear.
But they’d set boundaries and while his heart seemed eager to steeplechase over those walls, his head knew better. But at this moment, he longed to follow his heart. See where it would lead.
“Daddy, do you miss Mommy?”
Josh’s innocent words dashed cold water on growing feelings. You’re not
in this alone. Think, man. Alex didn’t hesitate. “Every day.”
“Me, too.”
Josh yawned. He frowned and rubbed his eyes with fisted hands, a maneuver he’d done from the cradle.
Alex picked him up, had him say good-night, then carried the little fellow up the stairs. He did miss Jenny, although not having her there had become his new normal.
Josh’s innocent query reminded him that three kids had lost their beloved mother. They’d grieved alongside him. He’d uprooted them and thrust them into a new town, a new setting, a new school. Kids could only be expected to handle so much. He’d changed their lives completely. That should be enough for the moment.
Lisa’s laugh trailed up the stairs behind him, a response to Becky’s quips.
Yeah, he missed the laughter and joy of a woman. But forging a relationship with Lisa meant putting his children in cancer’s path again. Try as he might, he couldn’t reconcile that insidious choice. Not on purpose.
When he came back downstairs, Lisa had tugged on a sweater, ready to leave. “Two things.”
He tilted his head, inviting her to continue. She did.
“This is from your mother-in-law.”
“Nancy?”
“Nancy. Yes. I couldn’t remember her name.” She handed off the envelope to him. “She came by today and offered to help so I took her up on it. Nice woman. And she’s great in the garden. Not afraid to get dirty. I love that about her.”
Her words flummoxed Alex. Nancy had moved to an owner’s association town house after Jenny’s father died twelve years ago, but before that she’d had beautiful gardens in their east-side mansion-like home in an older section of Rochester. He’d forgotten about her penchant for gardening, and likely insulted her by not inviting her to help with Emma’s project now that she was house-hunting here in Allegany County. He winced internally as another check went into the “strike” column of mother-in-law-relationship-building. “And?”
“If you take Becky’s hair out in the morning, she’ll have the crimped effect she wants. It will look kind of wild and untamed, but it’s fun and the kids love it.”
“You did all that just so I can take it out after she sleeps on it?” Alex sent a look of humor-filled disbelief toward the family room beyond. “Is that something?”
“It is if you’re a girl.”
He laughed and followed her to the door, wishing things were different. Wishing she didn’t smell so good, even after working outside in the dirt. She proceeded through the door, letting the screen provide a natural barrier when she turned his way. “Thanks for letting me work with her, Alex.”
He read the truth behind her words. She was grateful he’d moved beyond his initial reluctance. “I’m the one thanking you. You took what could have been a day of disappointment and filled it with hope for all three of them.”
She lingered on the step for a short breath, eyed the starry sky, then drew her gaze back to his. “Good.”
She left with a wave and a jangle of keys as she approached her car.
He wanted to stop her.
He couldn’t.
He longed to explain why things had to be like this.
Except it made less sense as time went on.
Emma’s voice drifted through the cooling night air, a chill reminder. Any decisions he made affected four people, not one. And his primary responsibility was to those children. Protecting them. Sheltering them. Nurturing them.
And that meant second-guessing his attraction to a beautiful woman who had to be declared off-limits. And that seemed plain wrong on multiple levels.
Chapter Seven
Lisa wanted to skip church on Mother’s Day. Ignore God, faith and perfect-timing nonsense so she could work on her displays, displays that took half the time when her mother was alive.
But Maggie wasn’t alive, and this was Lisa’s first Mother’s Day without her and she wanted to punch someone. Unfortunately, there were no candidates around except her father, and he’d been sucker-punched enough.
“Ready?” Her father held the door open.
He’d grayed more, she realized. And his face looked haggard. Fatigue lines etched deeper around eyes that used to gleam with warmth. The warmth was still there. She saw it when he played with Rosie. When he heard about Adam and Caroline’s new pregnancy. When he chatted with a few of his farmer friends. But sadness and loss tempered the joy, like a shade, half-drawn. And Lisa didn’t know how to help that.
“I am,” she replied as she stepped through.
Morning sun greeted her. Mother’s Day offered a mixed bag in the hills of western New York. Rain, sun and sometimes snow greeted the mid-May Sunday, but this year held promise. Warmth. Bright sun, a cloudless sky. She pasted a smile on her face, hoped it reached her eyes and accompanied her father.
They arrived, parked and walked into the gracious old stone church. The blended perfume of fresh spring blossoms wrapped itself around her and refused to let go.
Reverend Hannity’s wife had tied ribbons of flowers to the ends of pews. Gorgeous potted blooms from Gardens & Greens ornamented the sanctuary, an explosion of donated color. The combination of scent and sight gentled her heart, and maybe her soul. Just a little.
Soft strains of organ music reminded her to gather with the choir. A part of her loved that call to music and worship, but today? Emotions threatened to topple her carefully constructed “I’m all right” persona. If that happened, the world would see through her thin facade of strength to the weak soul within.
Quiet, she kissed her father’s cheek and moved to the choir loft, almost fearful. Would people want to hug her? Commiserate? Because she’d lose it if they did. And Lisa hated the thought of that. Breaking down. Falling apart. She’d held up through fire and brimstone already. She wasn’t about to let a silly, made-up holiday ruin her track record.
“Good morning, Lisa.” The choir director flashed her a quick smile.
“Lisa, hey. I’ve got your planner,” Joan whispered. She handed it off as if today was any old day, and as Lisa moved to her spot, she realized her own foolishness.
These men and women understood her loss. They knew what it took to climb into the choir loft, heart-heavy and sad, lifting praise to God while questioning belief. Half the choir had lost someone to death or divorce in recent years. Parent. Sibling. Child.
She was a ninny, plain and simple. And when Alex and his family slipped into the church two minutes later through the side door, she chastised herself.
Maggie had been her mother for thirty-three years. Her parents had been married for over thirty-five years when Maggie died.
Alex’s kids had barely gotten to know Jenny. And Josh didn’t remember her at all, except through pictures.
She didn’t dare look at Alex and those precious children, even though her spot in the choir offered a perfect vantage point. Banked emotions would surge upward, knowing what they’d endured throughout Jenny’s fight. And after all that, they still had no choice but to tell their mother goodbye. What kind of God orchestrated that? What fairness could be discerned in Jenny’s death? Perfect timing?
Uh-uh.
Emma turned, eyes up, searching for her. When she spotted Lisa, she waved. A smile brightened the little girl’s face, a smile that lit the old church like a thousand flickering candles.
Alex turned, saw what Emma was doing and laid a quiet hand of caution on the girl’s shoulder, but not before his gaze followed his daughter’s.
His look mirrored her father’s. Shaded. Gray. But then he met her eyes and smiled, and something in his look made her feel less alone. Less encumbered.
Which didn’t make her hate Mother’s Day any less, but gave her a short respite from yelling at God.
* * *
Alex situated himself squarely between Josh and
Becky and hoped the two degrees of separation would keep them from squabbling during service. Becky had been bossing Josh around, Josh had been protesting in full vocal dissent and Emma had reamed out Becky for trying to run everyone’s life, therefore ruining Sunday morning as usual.
Another happy day at the Steele house.
He’d put out fires as they popped up, but Alex Steele was nobody’s fool. Either his methods were ineffective or he had the brattiest kids in the universe.
Unless their combined stress stemmed from missing their mom and this made-up holiday struck an arrow into fragile little hearts, just like it did to his. Therefore he’d cut them some slack for the day.
“And before I let you go,” the reverend finished, just shy of Alex’s pew, “I want to take a moment to not only wish our mothers in attendance a happy Mother’s Day...” His gentle gaze swept the congregation and he smiled. “But to remind you of the sacrifices mothers make. From days of old, mothers have shown us the way. In Kings, we saw the true mother’s willingness to give up her child rather than see him divided. Sarah’s faithful service was rewarded by a promised child in her later years. And who doesn’t wish to have the strength of Moses’ mother? Rather than see her baby killed, she set him afloat among the rushes where the king’s daughter bathed, praying he’d be found and saved.
“So today,” he continued, hands spread, “let’s remember the example of strong mothers. Their faith, their resilience, their generous, giving spirits. Those with us, and those who’ve gone home to God.”
Home to God.
Alex saw Emma mouth the three-word phrase, embracing the thought. Eyes moist, she glanced his way as though worried about him. Becky’s chin quivered, then firmed, her tough-girl act firmly in place.
Josh climbed onto Alex’s lap.
Had he understood the pastor’s words? Did it mean much at four years old?
Josh laid his buzzed blond head against Alex’s chest and whispered, “I miss my Mommy.”
The Lawman's Second Chance Page 8