by Marta Perry
“Seems longer.” His hand had tightened into a fist, the muscles standing out on his forearm, propped on the table. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll attend.”
She wanted to put her hand over his, to soothe away the stress. She didn’t. “It’s not until August. Maybe you’ll have changed your mind by then.”
“Will you go?”
The question caught her on the raw. Go to the reunion without Kenny? Not likely. “I guess not.”
He took the letter from her, tossing it in the direction of the wastebasket. “We’re in the same boat. Neither of us feels up to facing our old classmates now.”
“Well, not en masse, anyway. I’ve stayed good friends with a few of them. Marcy Allwood and Karen Tripler, especially.”
“I remember. The three of you were always together. Made it tough for a guy to get any one of you alone.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Really? I never noticed you having any trouble. As I recall, you dated all three of us. Separately, of course.”
“You’re making that up. I never went out with Karen, and I only took Marcy to a movie once because her cousin kept trying to fix us up.”
She shook her head, smiling a little at how naive they’d all been. “Fix us up. Now there’s an expression I haven’t heard in a while. Thank goodness. Now that I stop and think about it, half the class was usually trying to fix up the other half with someone.”
“I didn’t need any pushing to ask you out. Just an extra measure of guts, given how protective your brothers and cousin were.”
“I’m sure they scared you to death,” she teased. “You’re just lucky they didn’t come after you when we broke up.” She could say the words lightly. It was a long time ago. Puppy love.
“I was kind of surprised about that. You must not have told them what happened.”
She shrugged, the memory coming back too clearly for comfort. “You went out with Sally Friedman when you were supposed to be going steady with me.”
When you’d held me close the night before and told me that you loved me. When you’d convinced me there was no one else in the world for you. Maybe it had been puppy love, but it had hurt like crazy all the same.
“Yeah.” He looked down at his hands, as if he didn’t want to look at her. As if, after all these years, the memory embarrassed him. “I was stupid.”
She wouldn’t let him see that she cared. “Why? After all, most of the varsity football team wanted to go out with Sally. I don’t blame you for picking her over me.”
“I said I was stupid, not that I was a total idiot.” He looked at her then, and the emotion in his dark eyes startled her. “I wasn’t picking Sally over you. I was running scared.”
She stared at him blankly. “Scared? Of what?”
“Of myself.” He touched the back of her hand, a gentle, featherlight stroke. “I was head over heels for you. I’d never felt that way about anyone, and it scared the life out of me. So I did the first thing I thought of to put some distance between us.”
She couldn’t speak for a moment. She shouldn’t be feeling so ridiculously pleased over the idea that he’d broken up with her because he’d cared too much. She certainly couldn’t let him know what she felt, but she was afraid he saw too much.
“I’m sure Sally will be at the reunion,” she said lightly.
His fingers tightened over hers. “That’s another good reason not to go. I’d need you to protect me.”
She smiled, as she was sure he’d intended. But her pulse was beating way too fast, and all this talk of old times had made it more difficult to keep things on an even keel between them.
And that was what they both wanted, wasn’t it?
He kept making the same mistake over and over. He’d told himself anything other than a patient/therapist relationship with Mary Kate was out of the question. He’d vowed to keep things cool and professional. And yet there he’d been again, talking about old times and remembering feelings he’d put away years ago.
“This way.” Luke put his hand over Michael’s small one, showing him how to shape the wooden block they were turning into a car. And now he was getting involved with her kids, of all things. Was he asking for grief? He could barely be responsible for himself. He certainly couldn’t for anyone else, especially a kid.
“I see.” Michael’s face was intent, absurdly like Mary Kate’s expression when she worked on something new with him. “Daddy showed me, but I guess I forgot.” His face clouded suddenly, and Luke realized he knew why.
“It’ll come back to you.” He kept his voice light. “Sometimes we think we forget something or someone, but it’s all stored away up here.” He tapped Michael’s red curls. “Or maybe in here.” He touched his chest.
“Mommy says Daddy is always alive in our hearts.” His forehead wrinkled, as if that didn’t quite satisfy him. “I want to finish the car for him.”
“I see.” It was tough to speak normally over the lump in his throat. “Well, then, we’d better do a really good job.”
Michael frowned at the fender he was trying to round. “Could you do this part? My fingers are getting in the way.”
He hesitated, but the boy was right in sensing that he didn’t have the necessary dexterity yet for some of the finer points. “Sure thing.”
He took the car, a little surprised by how his hands seemed to remember of their own how to use the tools. He reached up to turn on the light above the workbench. “There, now we can see better.”
“You’re pretty good at that.” Michael leaned confidingly against his chair. “Did your daddy teach you?”
“Yes, he did.” It wasn’t the boy’s fault that he touched a sore spot with those words. “I haven’t done this in a long time, though. I might be a little rusty.”
“It’s a neat workshop. If I had one, I bet I could build almost anything. I could even build a birdhouse for Mommy.”
“Does your mother want a birdhouse?”
He nodded. “To hang in the tree by the porch. Like Grammy has by her back porch, and the little wrens live in it and they’re not scared of you at all unless you get really noisy.”
“I guess noise would scare them.” He held out the car for inspection. “How does that look?”
“That’s a good job. Will you do the other fenders, please?”
“Yep.” Funny how a skill came back to a person after all this time. He’d stopped woodworking because it reminded him of his father, but there was pleasure just in the doing.
“You know, I hid the car from Mommy.”
Michael had apparently decided he was someone to confide in. It startled Luke. He’d think, with all those uncles, the boy would have picked someone else. Still, if Michael wanted to talk, he couldn’t very well push him away.
“Why did you do that?” He kept his focus on the car, letting the boy talk as he wanted, without pressure.
“I thought it would make Mommy sad. Lots of things made her sad after Daddy went to Heaven.”
They’d stumbled into theological territory too quickly. He wasn’t a good person to talk about God’s designs, not with his own doubts and questions.
“I can understand that. She probably needed to cry a lot.”
Michael shook his head decidedly. “She didn’t cry—not where me and Shawnie could see. But sometimes her eyes got all funny, and we knew she was feeling sad.”
That was Mary Kate, all right. Trying to keep a stiff upper lip and take care of everyone else while hiding her own pain.
He’d been doing what he thought was a decent job of that until he’d come home. Until he’d seen her again, to be exact. Then he’d unloaded all his anger and bitterness on her. Not a very pretty picture, was it?
“Well, your mother knows about the car now, so that’s good.”
“She said that she’d rather know about stuff, even if it makes her sad. She says that’s what mommies do.”
“They sure do.” He ruffled Michael’s red curls. “I’d say your mommy is pretty
good at that, too.”
And however much it cost her, she’d never let her children see. It had to be tearing her up inside, and nobody could help her with that one.
Funny. He was actually thinking about somebody else’s problems for a change, instead of his own.
“Michael.” Shawna called from the kitchen, and then appeared in the doorway. “It’s time to clean up.”
Luke expected Mary Kate to appear behind the girl, but she didn’t. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s cleaning up in the workout room. Come on, Michael. You have to clean up, too.” She looked at the sawdust on the floor, looking like Mary Kate when she frowned at the sparse contents of his refrigerator. “Where is the broom? I’ll sweep.”
“In the kitchen closet. But you don’t need to do that.” Although how he’d get down to the floor to do it, he didn’t know.
Shawna reappeared, broom and dustpan in hand, and started cleaning up, chivying Michael along. Luke shoved back out of her way, amused. She was very much the little mother with her brother. Had she always been that way, or was this another result of Kenny’s death?
Michael put tools back into their places, pouting. “I don’t want to stop already. It’s not fair.”
“We need some other things before we can do much more,” he said quickly. “I’ll give your mom a list. We’ll work on it again soon. Promise.”
“Okay you two.” Mary Kate came in quickly, in full mommy mode. “Time to get on home. Is everything cleaned up?”
“I took care of it,” Shawna said. She carried the broom and dustpan carefully into the kitchen.
Mary Kate watched her, a slight frown between her brows. Then she seemed to shake it off as she turned to Michael. “Did you say thanks?”
“Thank you.” Michael’s pout vanished, and he smiled. “I hope we can work some more tomorrow.”
“Don’t badger.” Mary Kate turned him toward the door and gave him a gentle push. “You and your sister take your stuff to the car.”
He ran off, and she glanced at Luke. “I hope he wasn’t too much of a pain. And that Shawna didn’t get in the way.”
“Michael was fine. And I barely saw Shawna.” He hesitated for an instant. “Are you worried about something? With Shawna, I mean.”
He had a quick glimpse of vulnerability before Mary Kate forced a smile.
“No, not at all. Everything’s fine.” She took a step back. “I’ll see you next session. Don’t forget to do your exercises.”
He hadn’t needed the reminder that they were patient and therapist, but maybe Mary Kate had. She had the stiff upper lip down to perfection, just like her daughter.
He grabbed the dangling string and switched off the light. Why did that annoy him so much? He certainly couldn’t take on responsibility for anyone else, so he shouldn’t be irked that Mary Kate didn’t want to confide in him.
His feelings were a mess, and that was the truth. And he didn’t see the situation getting any better—not as long as he was seeing Mary Kate every day.
Chapter Eight
If her head would only stop pounding, Mary Kate might have a reasonable hope of getting through the morning session with Luke with her self-control intact. Patience, never her strong suit, was beginning to fray rather badly, and the day had barely begun.
Well, it was at least partially her own fault. She’d stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, making and decorating cupcakes for Michael’s class—something she’d forgotten she’d volunteered for until Michael woke up crying about it and reminded her. She’d have to get better organized if she were going to be successful at the whole working-mom thing.
Shawna was percolating a cold and had been up several times, too, complaining that she couldn’t sleep because her nose was stuffy.
And the morning hadn’t improved matters. Everyone had been out of sorts, the hot-water heater had decided to turn itself off, and she’d finally rushed the children out to the car, feeling as if it hadn’t been her best display of motherly patience.
She pulled to the curb at Luke’s house and shut off the engine, staring at the azaleas that bloomed riotously at the house across the street. To top it all off, Shawna had continued to insist that nothing was wrong, even though once again she’d walked into the school alone.
She was clenching the steering wheel as if she were bucketing down a mountain road instead of sitting at the curb. She loosened her grip and reached for her bag. Sitting here stewing about it didn’t help Shawnie, and none of this was Luke’s fault. She owed him her total concentration and her best effort, and that’s what she’d give him.
She got out of the car and marched to the door, pasting a smile on her face.
To her astonishment, Luke was there to open the door for her, gripping the walker. “Morning.” He stood back to let her in. “You looked as if you didn’t want to get out of the car there for a minute.”
“It’s not that.” She set the bag down in the dining room. “I was thinking about some things I have to take care of, that’s all.”
“Must be unpleasant things, judging by your expression.” He moved slowly to the mat where they usually began, then stopped as if unsure how he’d get down to floor level from the walker.
She hurried to take his arm and steady him as he lowered himself to the mat. “Nothing that bad,” she said. “Nothing at all, in fact.” It would certainly be unprofessional to bring up her misbehaving water heater. “You must have been practicing with the walker. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. It’s not exactly a huge accomplishment to walk to the front door and back.”
“It is compared to where you were a couple of weeks ago.” She had started to kneel next to him when a wave of dizziness hit her. She grabbed the crossbar of the walker, dropping to her knees, willing the feeling away.
“Is something wrong?” Luke watched her. “You’re looking white.”
“I’m fine.”
“Something going on with the kids?”
“They’re fine.” She snapped the words, then wished she hadn’t.
“You’re fine, they’re fine, everybody’s fine. So then why do you look as wrung out as a dishcloth?”
“It’s called motherhood.” She patted the mat. “Can we please get to work?”
He looked as if he wanted to pursue the subject but decided against it. Wise man. She didn’t want to discuss her children with Luke. She still felt a bit raw on the subject of that model car, and now the business with Shawna had added an extra edge.
They’re my responsibility, she told him silently. Mine. I’ll take care of them.
Luke mercifully didn’t ask any more questions as they went through the usual routine. She concentrated on the exercises, automatically noting the increase in range of motion and muscle strength. He really was doing well. His natural strength was starting to come into play, whether he realized it or not.
“Okay, that’s great.” Mary Kate held out her hand to him as they finished the final stretch. “Let’s give the bars a try next.”
Luke grunted an agreement and caught her hand. She got her feet under her and started to straighten, but the instant she moved, the dizziness hit again, harder this time. The room spun around her, and lights seemed to flash on and off. She was falling, she couldn’t help it—
Luke caught her, his arms firm and strong around her. “Hey, easy, what’s wrong?” He eased her down to the mat. “Mary Kate, what is it? Are you sick?”
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Sorry. Just a little dizzy. Give me a minute.”
“Dizzy, why?” His voice was sharp, either with concern or irritation, she wasn’t sure which. “Come on, Mary Kate, give.”
“I’m fine,” she said again. With emphasis. “I just felt a bit light-headed, that’s all. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Why not?” He turned the full force of his dark expression on her. “What have you been doing to yourself?”
“It’s no
thing.” She shrugged, turning to push herself to her feet. But Luke grabbed her before she could make the attempt, pulling her back to the mat.
“You’re not getting up until I’m satisfied that you’re all right. Come on, M.K., give. Tell me the truth or I’ll call your mother.”
“You wouldn’t.” She felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
He smiled a little, as if satisfied. “That brought some color back to your face. Good thing—you were doing a fine imitation of a sheet there for a minute. Now talk, or I get the phone.”
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head, embarrassed and annoyed. “I got to bed late, that’s all. I’d forgotten I had to bake cupcakes for the first-grade class.”
“Cupcakes?” He sounded incredulous. “You lost sleep over cupcakes? Couldn’t you just buy them?”
“I suppose. But homemade ones are better, and anyway—” She shook her head. “This is ridiculous. I lost some sleep, I’m catching Shawna’s cold and I didn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning.” She glared at him. “Are you satisfied? I told you it was nothing.”
“You’ve told me you’re too busy taking care of everyone else to take care of yourself,” he said. “Do you think you can make it to the sofa?”
“Of course I can.”
Luke grabbed the wheelchair and levered himself into it with an ease that would have been impossible even a week earlier. He held out his hand. “Grab hold of the chair. If you feel that you’re going to fall—”
“I won’t.”
Brave words, but she felt her knees shaking under her as she moved slowly beside Luke into the living room and slid down on the sofa. She leaned back, closing her eyes.
“Just let me rest for a minute, and then we’ll get back to work.”
“You rest while I fix you something to eat. Then we’ll talk about whether we get back to work or you call it a day and go home.”