by Maddie James
“Yes.”
Gracie thought about Izzie for a moment. “Don’t know how you do it sometimes.”
When Carson didn’t immediately answer, she opened her eyes and turned toward him.
He was watching her with intent.
“I love her.”
Smiling, Gracie said, “I know. It’s obvious.” Then she added, “She’s a great kid, Carson. I like her a lot.”
“Even though she broke your crystal cookie plate?”
“Even though.” She grinned.
“I know sometimes she’s a nuisance.”
Gracie sat up and faced Carson. “No,” she returned softly. “She’s never a nuisance. I love having her around. I hope you’ll let her come over whenever she likes. I really enjoy her company.”
Glancing away, she looked toward the sky to her right. More clouds were tumbling in. An awkward silence enveloped them.
“You’re good with her,” Carson finally said.
“She’s good for me,” she replied, looking back.
Carson placed his elbows on his knees and made a tent with his fingers. Both of them were facing the other, sitting on the sides of the lounges. He appeared to study her for a moment, as though he were contemplating asking her a question. Gracie simply studied him back, trying to anticipate his thoughts.
“I’m surprised you don’t have children,” he said. “You’re good with Izzie.”
At that, Gracie dropped her gaze. “Just one of those things,” she said softly.
“Do you want children someday?”
Lifting her gaze back to connect with his, she firmly replied, “Yes. More than anything. Someday.” It startled her that she admitted that out loud. She hadn’t talked with anyone lately about her obsession with having a child. Not even Constance or Amie.
“Difficult to plan those things sometimes, huh?”
Keeping the connection fully between them, Gracie smiled and replied softly, “Perhaps more than you realize.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Gracie thought of something. “Carson, there’s something you should know. I’ve kind of put off telling you.”
He arched a brow. It was almost the eye thing and Gracie had to stifle a giggle. But she did, wanting to discuss something with him.
“What?”
She took a breath. “Izzie tossed a couple of water balloons out your apartment window onto Bets Baker the other night.”
Gracie chewed the inside of her lip. Last thing she wanted to do was get Izzie into trouble but she figured Carson had a right to know.
“She didn’t,” he said.
“She did.”
He studied her for a moment. “Did she get her good?” A hint of a grin flashed across his lips.
Gracie clamped her lips between her teeth, not wanting to smile, and slowly nodded. “Afraid so. New hairdoo, too.”
Carson glanced off. “Well. I’ll have to talk to her.”
Gracie nodded. “You do that.”
Then before she realized it, both of them burst into laughter. After a minute, Gracie had to hold her sides.
“It’s really not funny,” she told him.
“I know. I’m going to have to punish her.”
“You should have seen Bets face.” Gracie giggled. “If she wasn’t so furious, she would have laughed herself.”
Carson took a breath and tried to control himself. “I’m glad I didn’t see it. It would be hard to keep a straight face while setting Izzie straight. That child.” He shook his head and then looked back at Gracie. “Thanks for telling me. Please don’t keep things like that from me. It’s hard enough doing this parent thing on my own.”
Gracie thought about that for a minute, her smile turning serious. She was sure what he said was the truth. “So, what about Izzie’s mother, Carson? Does Izzie ever get to spend time with her?”
His expression took a sudden dive into seriousness, too. Shaking his head, he simply said, “No.”
Gracie let it lie. A few moments later he added, “Izzie’s mom and I divorced three years ago. She left us to pursue an acting career in California. She’s not seen Izzie since. We’ve caught glimpses of her on commercials from time to time and once in a while she calls or sends a gift. That’s about the extent of it.”
The mood was changed and Gracie realized that Carson was finished with that subject. She felt no need to pursue it further. Even though she knew she’d think about that for some time to come. Poor Izzie.
A clap of thunder sounded in the distance and each of them glanced toward the sound. A few seconds later a streak of lightning snaked across the sky.
“Cool front coming in,” Carson offered. “Looks like it might storm. I’ll get that freezer now.” He stood and Gracie stood, too.
“I already took care of it.”
“Oh?” He glanced about and sat back down again. So did Gracie. “I told you I would do it.”
“I know. I just finished with everything else and it only took a minute.”
Still sitting opposite her, Carson once again tented his fingers and Gracie continued to glance around, trying not to stare at him.
Thing was, she liked looking at him. Those eyes, which had caught her off guard from the very first time they’d met, mesmerized her each time his gaze took hold and held. Even small, skittering glances, where their gazes flitted and danced around one another caught her in a web of enchantment and made her only want to stare into them all the more.
“May I ask you a question?”
Carson nodded slowly. “Sure.”
“Was it you who tucked me into bed the other night?”
Again, their gazes locked and Gracie was determined not to let hers skitter away this time. The question had rattled through her mind for two days. She needed to know.
Finally, he dropped his chin in a nod. “Yes,” he replied in a low voice. “Your friends sort of abandoned you and I was left to the task.”
A task. Now she was a task.
“Ah. I see.” Her gaze skittered then.
“Not that I minded, however.”
“Oh.”
“I think your friends planned it though.”
Gracie frowned. The little matchmakers. “I wouldn’t put it past them. I apologize.”
Shaking his head, he replied, “Don’t apologize.” Then his voice lowered, became soft. “I told you, I didn’t mind.”
Gracie looked back at him. He looked questioningly into her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure what she should say back to that. A small shiver snaked down her spine and she had to really concentrate not to let her whole body shiver. “Well, thank you for taking care of me,” she finally said. “I’m not quite sure what possessed me that evening. It’s actually, um, it was a little embarrassing. I usually don’t do things like that.”
A smile cracked Carson’s face. “I know that. No need to be embarrassed.” His smile broadened then. “You were pretty darned cute, you know.”
Suddenly, Gracie felt hot and flushed. “Well gee, if I’d known before now that I was a cute drunk, I’d have done it long ago.”
Chuckling, Carson dropped his hands and stood. In one movement, he stepped the distance between them and sat beside Gracie on the lounge chair. “Well, as cute as you were, I really don’t think it’s you.”
Gracie bit her lip. “You know, I don’t think it’s me, either.”
They sat for a minute, thunder still gently rolling in the background, studying the stars. Gracie studied Carson’s profile while he looked to the sky. A moment later, he slowly turned toward her, leaned closer, and before she knew it, had touched his lips to hers in a soft, slow kiss.
It was only a brief kiss but very sweet. When Gracie opened her eyes, she saw Carson staring back at her. Her heart pounded then and she wasn’t quite sure she was breathing.
A moment of silence fell between them and then Carson spoke. “Mind if I ask you a question?” He said softly.
Gracie continued to study his face, her heart flutt
ering. “No. I don’t mind.”
He glanced away for several seconds then turned back to her. “When I tucked you into bed the other night, I couldn’t help but notice the photos on your lamp table. I thought you might tell me about them.”
Gracie was stunned. That question came from way out in left field and there was no way she was prepared for it. That small kiss, and her wonder as to why he kissed her, was all but forgotten. Hesitantly, she pushed away, stood and walked toward the edge of the deck, facing out over the parking lot. Several minutes passed and she didn’t answer him.
She didn’t know how to answer him. She rarely talked about it with anyone. And if she did talk about it, it was with Amie or Constance, who were both women and understood. She’d never once discussed it with a man. At least a man she was attracted to.
“I’m sorry. I guess it’s personal. I shouldn’t have asked.”
She heard Carson rise and step toward her back door. Turning, she watched as he reached for the door knob.
“Which picture do you want to know about?” she called out softly. It was an impromptu decision, but she was glad after she’d blurted it out. For some reason, she didn’t want him walking away. Not yet.
He stopped and turned, dropping his hand to his side. His gaze met hers again and for some reason, she wanted to tell him something. Perhaps not all and definitely not every detail. But something.
“The one of you,” he told her quietly, “as a ballerina.”
She thought for a moment, then from somewhere deep inside, she mustered up the words. “Ten years ago, I was a ballet dancer. In New York. For five years of my life. I’d studied as a child. It was all I ever wanted to do.” It was more than she’d planned on telling him.
“But you don’t do it anymore?”
She shook her head.
“Why?”
“It’s...complicated.”
“I’d like to hear.”
“Someday, maybe. Not now.”
Nodding, he conceded and paused the conversation for a moment. Then he asked, “And the other picture?” She had a feeling that was the one he was most interested in knowing about. Did he think she had a lover somewhere? Did that bother him?
Gracie lifted her chin and again called upon that ball of courage deep in her gut to find the words. “He was my fiancé,” she simply said.
Carson swallowed and stared at her. “Key word being ‘was’.”
“Yes.”
“So he’s not your fiancé any more?”
“No,” she replied.
“What happened?”
Gracie felt the tears beginning to sting the backs of her eyelids, so she decided to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“He died,” she told him. “The same night my ballet career died.”
Then not wanting to discuss any of it further, she quietly stepped around him and escaped to the solitude of her apartment. Where she belonged.
Her dreams that night were laced with confused visions of her lost love and feelings of hope as the warmth of Carson’s brief kiss invaded her dreams.
* * * *
The next evening Gracie sat near the center of her bed, Izzie sitting cross-legged in front of her, Claire curled up in a ball in Izzie’s lap, and Bandit chewing on an old shoe at the foot of her bed.
Reaching out, Gracie gently grasped another strand of Izzie’s hair and ran a brush over it. Continuing to brush the child’s long curls, Gracie found herself smiling. Brushing Izzie’s hair was soothing and relaxing and she enjoyed it very much. Just bathed and dressed in her pajamas, Izzie smelled of powder and soap. The hair closest to her scalp was slightly damp, she noticed, the results of running bath water to your chin.
It was a pleasant and contented scene and Gracie was immensely enjoying herself. Claire was quite satisfied being the receiver of Izzie’s ministrations and Bandit was happy just to chew.
Gracie was happy just to have Izzie for the evening. The child had bathed in her tub, bubbles and all, while Gracie had pampered her like a little six-year-old girl should be pampered. Well, perhaps maybe she might have even gone overboard just a tad.
She’d lit some Aromatherapy candles in the bathroom and burned some incense while a favorite classical piece played low in the background. She’d even allowed Izzie to soak in the tub and drink a flute of Sprite while she bathed.
The child had looked so cute, her hair all piled on her head, bubbles up to her chin, the crystal flute dangling from her fingertips, black smudges still on her face from where she’d crawled under the deck earlier.
She was spoiling the child, she knew. But she also knew that Izzie needed girlie things—even if she thought she didn’t want girlie things. And Gracie needed to give her girlie things.
She’d worked hard all day and was immensely glad to be able to relax with Izzie. Hard work and concentrating on the child kept her mind off of the one thing it kept wanting to drift to all day long. Carson.
Their conversation the night before had dredged up the nightmares of her past. Her sleep was interrupted with faces and images and she hadn’t slept well. But worse than that were the images of Carson’s face that popped into her head all day long, along with the phrases he’d used the night before which made her wonder just where his thoughts were leading.
She was confused. Not only about him, but about how she felt for him.
“Do you think I should cut my hair?” Izzie asked then, startling her from her musings.
“No!” Gracie quickly answered, diverting her attention back to the child. “Why would you think of cutting this beautiful hair?”
“It gets in my way. I was thinking I’d like it better cut like a boy’s.”
“Oh, Izzie, it’s beautiful! You don’t want to cut it. Besides, it’s all grown out now and you can simply put it in a ponytail if it gets in your way. When it’s shorter and growing out, you can’t do that.”
“I know. That’s what Daddy said.”
“Well, you’re Daddy is right.”
“Her Daddy is right about what?”
Gracie looked up, startled that Carson had entered her bedroom. Evidently, from the look on his face, he was startled that she was startled.
“I knocked, I guess you two didn’t hear me. The door was open, I just thought I’d step on in...”
Gracie waved her hand and smiled trying to act nonchalant. “No, don’t be silly. Of course it’s all right.”
This was the first she’d seen of Carson all day and even though it was a little unnerving to have him step into her bedroom, she tried to act relaxed—for Izzie’s sake. She’d felt a little guilty that she hadn’t given him a chance to further discuss her ballet career or Evan’s death last night. She’d quickly bid him goodnight and slipped inside her back door, leaving him alone on the deck.
The storm blew in a few minutes later.
Gracie rather liked, and was thankful for, the pounding of the rain and the howling of the winds against her windows. It made her tears and emotions feel all the less significant. She’d cried herself to sleep that night, unsure of whether she was sad about her past, or the uncertainty of her future.
Both bothered her. Both were difficult for her get a handle on.
“Izzie was asking me about getting her hair cut,” she finally said to Carson.
“And you told her no, right?” Allowing a grin, she nodded. “I told her her hair was too beautiful to cut and that a ponytail should still work just fine for her right now.”
Carson nodded in agreement. “Thanks.” He shuffled from one foot to the other. “Do you mind tucking her in for me tonight? We’ve got a big birthday crowd coming in a few minutes downstairs and I might not be able to get away when I’d like.”
Gracie shook her head. “Of course not. You know I don’t mind. We can leave the doors ajar and I can hear her if she needs me.”
Izzie jumped up on her knees. “Can I stay with Gracie tonight, Daddy? She has an extra room.”
Carson shook
his head. “Izzie, you don’t invite yourself.”
“She won’t care.”
“But that’s not the point, Iz. Besides, you and I have to get up very early in the morning to go to Louisville. Gracie might not want to get up that early. I think you should just stay in your bed tonight, and perhaps, if you are invited, we can consider that for another time.”
Ever the negotiator, Gracie was reminded of Carson’s former law profession. She supposed those skills might have some merit in parenting, too.
“But Dad...”
“Iz.”
The child frowned, but knew her father’s warning face. “Okay.”
He motioned for her and in the next instant she flew from the bed and into her father’s arms. Gracie watched as a disturbed Claire arched her back, then stretched, they yawned and curled herself into the dent on the bed where Izzie had been sitting. Bandit was now nipping at Carson’s ankles.
“Give me a kiss.”
She did and he sat her back on the bed. Turning to Gracie, he said, “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Anytime.”
Carson hesitantly grinned, then stepped toward the door. “I’ll check with you later, Gracie. Night, Munchkin. Bandit! Quick nipping at my heels!”
Laughing, Gracie watching him leave, suddenly wondering why things between them had gotten so much easier the past few days.
Or had they?
Chapter Twelve
Gracie woke with a start.
Groggy, she turned her head to the side and listened. She’d heard something, but what? Unsure, she sat quietly in her chair, fished the remote control out of her lap, and turned off the television. She must have fallen asleep while watching the news.
Maybe it was the television. Maybe that’s what she’d heard. Or the cat.
“Mom-my!”
It wasn’t the cat.
The child’s scream echoed through the stairwell and into Gracie’s living room. Like a gunshot, she bolted from her chair and raced from her apartment and into the one next door, scrambling through the rooms until she reached Izzie.
The child was crying and moaning. Curled into a ball and clutching her wadded up blanket close to her heart, Izzie moved from side to side, whimpering. “Mommy,” she said again, then she took some shallow breaths and sobbed.