by Cindi Myers
She tried to tell herself she was better off alone than taking on the responsibility for a child who was so fragile, but the thought brought no comfort. Until this weekend, she’d been much more comfortable around Taylor, less intimidated by the multiple medications and all Mike’s warnings about germs and complications. She’d believed love and common sense, along with Mike’s guidance and support, would be enough for them to handle whatever came along.
On Tuesday she was preparing for an evening class when a knock on the door interrupted her. “Carrie!” She ushered her brother’s girlfriend—or former girlfriend—into the room. “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too. I stopped by to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“I’m leaving town. Moving back to Michigan, where my parents are. I’m going to work for my dad.” She folded and unfolded the ends of her scarf. “I’m going to make a fresh start.”
Darcy clutched the other woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry things didn’t work out for you and Dave.”
“Yeah, well, I still love him. But I’m tired of waiting for what’s never going to happen.” She lifted her chin. “I want a husband, not a boyfriend. And I want children and a house and the whole package. Dave doesn’t want that—or at least, he doesn’t want it with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Darcy repeated. “He’s being stupid.”
“I know there’s someone out there for me,” Carrie said. “I can’t say I didn’t give Dave enough chances, but I’ve waited long enough.”
“What does he say?”
“That I’m being stupid.” She made a face. “He wasn’t nice at all. He accused me of running home to my mother because I couldn’t get him to do what I wanted. I told him a relationship took two people and I was tired of being the only one who ever com promised. Things just got uglier from there.”
“I wonder sometimes if men even think about how they sound to us,” Darcy said. By sending a nurse to take over, Mike had sent a message loud and clear.
“I’m sorry,” Carrie said. “How are you doing? Are you still seeing that good-looking doctor?”
“It didn’t work out between us.”
“Rats. I was hoping you’d found someone. You deserve to be happy.”
“We’ll just have to work on being happy on our own,” Darcy said. “I think maybe that has to happen before we can have a healthy relationship, anyway.” She’d told herself she was happy before Taylor and Mike came into her life—or as happy as a woman who’d lost everything ever could be. But being with the two of them had only showed her how much she was missing.
“I need to remember that,” Carrie said. “And I’d better get going. The movers are coming in the morning and I still have a lot to do. I only wanted to say goodbye. I’ll miss you.”
Darcy hugged her. “Keep in touch. You have my e-mail?”
Carrie nodded. “I will.”
She left and Darcy tried but failed to focus on the transcribed deposition she was proofreading. She thought of Dave in his basement workshop, preferring to be alone rather than giving in one inch to what Carrie wanted. Was his life really so comfortable, or could a grown man really be so afraid of change? Was she afraid of change? She’d told herself she was ready to be with someone—to be with Mike. But if that was true, why hadn’t she fought harder for him?
She stood in front of the alcove by the door where the statue of Kali cradled the photograph of Pete and Riley. When she’d placed the picture there it had comforted her to think of them together, protected. Their image in the alcove was both a reminder of the sweetness of their lives and the hole their absence left in hers.
She took the photograph from Kali’s arms and stared down at Pete’s roguish gleam and Riley’s innocence. Then she carried the photograph across the room and tucked it in a drawer, along with other assorted photographs and papers. She didn’t need this constant reminder anymore. She would always hold their spirits in her heart but now, finally, she was ready for more.
IF TAYLOR THOUGHT there was something amiss between her father and Darcy, she showed no sign of it when she arrived for class Wednesday. She greeted Darcy with a hug and immediately joined the others in discussing the upcoming show, which was to be held in the auditorium of the local high school. “Will there be a lot of people there?” she asked.
“Quite a few,” Darcy said. “All my students, their friends and family.”
“Is it a very big stage?” Zoe asked.
“It’s a pretty big stage,” Darcy said. “You’ll have a chance to run through your number on it before the show so you can see what it’s like.”
“It’s big,” Hannah confirmed. “My brother Ben is in high school and we saw him in a play there.”
“You’ll be up where the audience can see you, but the lights make it difficult for you to see them,”
Darcy said. “Which is a good thing. It’ll help you be less nervous. But because you’ll be farther away from them, you want to be sure to wear stage makeup.”
“Do you mean like a clown?” Debby asked.
“Not exactly,” Darcy said. “But more blusher and lipstick and eye shadow than you’d ever wear in public. You’ll see how the older dancers do their makeup and your moms can help you copy them. Now let’s get started. We have a lot of work to do.”
They spent the next hour drilling the routine, working on the fine details that took the dance from exercise to art. Darcy smiled at her young students in the mirror as she led them once more through the moves. They were so excited. Like any group of dancers, some were more talented than others, but all of them had gained flexibility and self-confidence these past weeks.
“Great job,” she told them when class ended. “I’m very proud of how hard you’ve all worked. Remember, next week is dress rehearsal, so bring your costumes. And invite all your friends to come to the show in two weeks.”
“Goodbye, Darcy!”
“See you next week!”
“See you tomorrow, Taylor!”
When the others had left, Taylor lingered behind. “I guess your dad’s running late again, huh?” Darcy said. Was Mike that reluctant to see her again?
“You said I should stay late again this week so we can finish my costume. Then you’re going to take me home. Don’t you remember?”
In everything that had happened this past week, Darcy had forgotten, but she didn’t let on to Taylor. “Sure,” she said. “Come on into the house and try it on.”
“Oh my gosh!” Taylor squealed when Darcy pulled the completed costume out of the closet. “I love all the sequins you added. It’s even more beautiful than I remember.” She held it out to admire it, then threw her arms around Darcy. “Thank you so much. I love it so much. I love you for making it for me.”
Darcy patted Taylor’s back and swallowed a knot of tears. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I love you, too.” For a long moment woman and girl embraced, Taylor’s arms tight about Darcy’s neck. As much as she regretted that things hadn’t worked out with Mike, she mourned almost as much that she could never be more to this dear girl than a teacher and friend. What would she do when the class ended and she didn’t see Taylor every week?
“I’d better go try it.” Taylor pulled away, leaving Darcy bereft. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like on.”
Taylor skipped into the bathroom and returned only moments later, walking on tiptoe with her arms outstretched. “How do I look?”
“Like a princess,” Darcy said. “A beautiful princess. Now come stand on the chair so I can make sure the hem is straight.”
Taylor obligingly mounted the chair. “Can you help me with my makeup at the show?” she asked. “I don’t have any of my own.” She made a face. “Dad says I’m too young for makeup and won’t let me wear it.”
“Your father’s right, but this is a special case.” Darcy adjusted the skirt. “I’ll help you get fixed up. Don’t worry.”
“I came home from Mom’s once wearing
makeup and he got really angry.”
“As I’ve told you, fathers sometimes have a hard time watching their little girls grow up,” she said. Mothers too, but most hid it better, she thought. “We won’t tell him beforehand and if he’s upset later he can take it up with me.” He already thought she was irresponsible when it came to his daughter, so a little makeup wasn’t going to destroy her reputation.
She debated dropping Taylor off without speaking to Mike, but that was the coward’s way out, so she followed Taylor up to the house, as if this was any other Wednesday afternoon, and not the Wednesday after he’d slept with her then left her with his sick daughter and run roughshod over her feelings.
“Come on in,” Taylor said. “Dad has some awesome pictures of the storm.” Mike was nowhere in sight when they entered the house.
While Taylor searched for the pictures on her dad’s computer, Darcy nervously roamed the room. She’d thought she could get through this, could see Mike again and act like everything was fine, but there were too many reminders here of the man behind the doctor’s white coat: pictures of a laughing, smiling Taylor on the swings in a park, a funny clay bird obviously crafted by a child’s hand, Taylor’s toys and school supplies scattered around the room.
His whole life revolved around his daughter. Why had Darcy imagined he’d ever have room in it for her?
She was hit by such overwhelming sadness she had trouble breathing. “Taylor, honey, I’m going now,” she said. “I’ll see you next week.”
Before the girl could protest, Darcy slipped out the door. She was fumbling with the key when a familiar masculine voice called out, “Darcy, wait.”
Mike wore a white dress shirt, and a purple paisley tie Darcy guessed was Taylor’s choice. He was the picture of the handsome, eligible doctor, and her stomach did a backflip at the memory of him holding her in his arms.
“I’m glad I got to see you,” he said, stopping a few feet from her car. His gaze searched her, as if looking for symptoms of some disease. “I wanted to say how sorry I was about the way things ended Sunday.”
She nodded, blinking rapidly. She absolutely was not going to cry in front of him.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him—not at the handsome man she loved, but at the overprotective father who’d driven her nuts. “You were only doing what you thought was best for Taylor.”
“And for you. I thought having the nurse there would make things better for you, too.”
“I guess my…insecurity just proves I’m not ready yet to handle a relationship,” she said. “Especially with a child involved.”
“I guess I’m not, either. Maybe when Taylor’s older…” His voice faded away.
“I’m glad she’s okay,” Darcy said.
“I’m not sure I can explain what it’s like. Every illness is a flashback to that worst one, when I almost lost her.”
“Maybe it will get better in time.” Though could it, really? Did parents of chronically ill children ever regain the sense of ignorant imperviousness they’d known before their child was stricken? They knew a reality that was only abstract to everyone else—that the one thing you treasured most in this world could be snatched away from you in the blink of an eye. Was it any wonder Mike was determined to hold so tightly to Taylor? “I understand,” she said. “I really do.”
“I spent so many years raising her by myself—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
She slipped into the driver’s seat of her car and started the engine. “Goodbye, Mike. Take care.”
She backed out of the parking space, glancing up only once to see him in the mirror, a solitary figure, hands in his pockets. She felt a heaviness in the pit of her stomach. Maybe that was the worst part of this—that a relationship once filled with hope and promise had ended, not with an explosion of emotion, but with a quiet slipping away. As if both of them had been so wrung out by grief and the weight of responsibility that they didn’t have any fight left in them.
TAYLOR MET Mike at the door of the house. “Where did Darcy go?” she asked. “I was going to show her the pictures you took of the storm.”
“She had to leave, honey.” His hand at her back, he ushered her inside.
“Why was she in such a hurry?”
“She wasn’t in a hurry. But she had to go.” They’d both said all there was to say, so why prolong the pain?
Taylor sat on the sofa. “Dad, did the two of you have a fight or something?”
Her accusatory tone made him wince. “Not exactly a fight…. Look, honey, I know you like Darcy. I like her, too. But my job right now is to look after you and my patients. I don’t really have time for anything else.”
Taylor dismissed this reasoning with a shrug. “If she’s mad at you about something, you should say you’re sorry and promise to make things up to her.
She’ll understand.”
“Oh, she will?” Taylor’s certainty was almost amusing. “And what makes you such an expert?”
“I never said I was an expert. But I’m a girl.” She tried to balance a pencil on one finger. “You should call her up and ask her out this weekend. Take her someplace romantic.”
How pathetic was a man when his ten-year-old daughter started planning his dates for him? But Taylor definitely seemed to have everything worked out in her mind. “What are you going to do while I’m on this romantic date?” he asked.
“Well…” Her gaze was fixed on the pencil. “I could go to this party I’ve been invited to.”
“What party is that?”
“It’s a birthday party for this kid in my class.”
Her evasiveness aroused his suspicions. “Does this kid have a name?”
Taylor blushed a deep pink. “It’s Nathan Orosco.”
“Na—isn’t that the boy you gave a black eye? The one you punched for saying mean things to you?”
“Well, yeah.”
Mike sat in the client chair across from her. “Taylor, why would you want to go to a party given by a boy you dislike so much you fought with him on the playground?”
She dropped the pencil and looked at him at last, her eyes pleading. “I don’t dislike him. I mean, I was mad about what he said, but I don’t dislike him. And he said he was sorry.”
“He said he was sorry,” Mike repeated dully.
“Yeah. And Darcy and I talked about it. She explained about the way guys think, so his acting so stupid made sense—well, it made sense for a guy.”
“Darcy explained… Then why don’t you explain it to me so I can understand? You didn’t like this boy, but now you do?”
“I didn’t like him because I thought he didn’t like me. But Darcy explained he probably really did like me and he was only trying to get my attention. She said guys do dumb things like that because they aren’t always good at saying what they really feel.”
Mike could concede that a fifth-grader might do something dumb like call a girl a name to get her attention, but grown men didn’t act that way. He certainly didn’t act that way. And as far as not being able to express his feelings, he’d told Darcy he loved her and he meant it—how much clearer could he be?
“Can I go to the party, Dad? Please?”
“When?”
“Saturday night, from seven to ten.”
“At night?” Weren’t kids’ parties supposed to be in the daytime?
“Yes. His mom and dad are taking us to the ice-skating rink and for pizza.”
Ice-skating sounded safe enough. As long as Taylor didn’t fall and break something. “You promise me you’ll be careful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ll be careful. Please, Dad.”
He sighed. What happened to slumber parties with girlfriends, or cake and ice cream with a clown in the afternoon? He supposed Taylor was getting too old for such things, though he hated to admit it. “I’ll call and speak with Nathan’s parents.”
> “Don’t embarrass me by giving them a bunch of rules and telling them about my heart. Please.”
“They need to know.”
“They don’t need to know. I’ll tell them if anything important comes up, but you’ll just freak them out. They’ll tell Nathan and he’ll look at me different. He’ll think I’m some kind of weirdo.”
“Taylor, having a heart transplant does not make you a weirdo.”
“It makes me different. In fifth grade, that’s enough.”
She wanted so much to be like everyone else, but he could never see her that way—she was special simply because she was his daughter. But he wanted her to be happy as much as he wanted her to be safe. “I won’t say anything. But I will call and introduce myself. That’s only right.”
She stood and came to hug him. “Thank you.”
He held her longer than was absolutely necessary, reluctant to let her go. She was getting so independent, growing up so much faster than he wanted.
He’d known the day was coming, but he wasn’t ready yet.
DAVE’S INVITATION to have dinner on Saturday caught Darcy by surprise. Of course, it was delivered in her brother’s usual offhand manner. “I’m making ribs Saturday night if you don’t have anything better to do.”
She tried not to dwell on the fact that she didn’t have other plans. Her brother was alone for the first time in five years. “I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said. Maybe she could convince him to let go of his pride and ask Carrie back.
But the morose, heartbroken man she’d expected to find was nowhere to be seen. Dave greeted her with a bear hug and a kiss. “Come on back to the kitchen with me,” he said. “I was just getting ready to baste the ribs.”
The old-fashioned kitchen was clean but cluttered, the Formica countertop crowded with jars of spices and bottles of ketchup, molasses, vinegar and half a dozen other ingredients. “I’m experimenting with a new sauce,” Dave said as he lifted the lid on a pot and stirred the contents. The sharp aroma of spices and vinegar made Darcy’s eyes water.