A Home for the M.D.

by Gina Wilkins

  That was supposed to be an explanation? Jacqui shook her head in bemusement as Alice dashed toward the stairs. She glanced down at the ultra-casual oversize T-shirt and leggings she’d worn for the light housework she’d done that morning. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to change. Not because she cared about trying to impress anyone, but because this rather heavy fabric could be uncomfortable in the heat. And if she chose an outfit that was a bit more figure-flattering—well, one should always try to look one’s best when in public, right?

  When they left the house half an hour later Jacqui wore a sleeveless yellow shirt of thin, cool cotton paired with khaki capris and leather flip-flops. She was still casual, but the soft yellow looked good with her dark hair and eyes, she decided.

  After consulting with Jacqui on at least three different outfits, Alice had settled finally on a screen-printed, scoop-neck, purple T-shirt and a different pair of denim shorts. Glittery purple flip-flops revealed her purple-painted toenails. She’d tied her curly hair into a sassy ponytail and wore as much makeup as her father allowed—a touch of mascara and tinted lip gloss. The result was fresh and cute and much too casual to suggest she’d agonized for a good twenty minutes over the choices.

  The spreading North Little Rock park was still crowded at six on this Sunday evening. Plenty of people had taken advantage of the slight cooling of the day to make use of the 1,600-acre park’s picnic areas, hiking, biking and equestrian trails, golf course, tennis and racquetball courts, fishing lake, and sports fields for baseball and soccer and disc and miniature golf. Playgrounds and a small amusement park drew families with younger children. Jacqui had brought Alice to a birthday party at one of the pavilions there last spring, and she’d spent a couple hours exploring the park while Alice enjoyed the party.

  Following the directions Mitch had left for them, they found the soccer field easily enough. But it wasn’t until Alice spotted Mitch that they were sure they’d found the right group because so many other games were going on around them.

  Grinning, he loped toward them. “Glad you could make it. We’re just about to start. You want to play, Jacqui? The teams aren’t really that formal. Anyone who wants to join in is welcome.”

  She had hoped the passing hours had given her time to brace herself for seeing him again. She’d told herself that increased exposure would somewhat soften the jolt of attraction that always hit her at the sight of him. No such luck. His sandy hair was tousled, his lean body nicely displayed in a blue soccer shirt and black shorts, his engaging smile warm and contagious. The too-familiar jolt hit her so hard she almost took a step back in response as she struggled to remember what he’d asked. “Um, no, thank you. I’ll just watch with Alice.”

  “You’re sure? We have a lot of fun.”

  She motioned toward her flip-flops. “Wrong shoes. Besides, I don’t know the game that well.”

  Someone called his name from across the field. Or pitch, as Alice had referred to it. Mitch glanced that way and gave a brief wave, then looked back at Jacqui and Alice. “I’d better get back to the team.”

  “Good luck with your game,” Jacqui encouraged.

  “Thanks.” He turned and dashed toward his friends. They weren’t wearing uniforms, exactly, but Jacqui noted that most of the players on Mitch’s side of the field wore blue shirts.

  She couldn’t resist one admiring look at Mitch’s firm backside before she made herself turn to Alice. They’d brought folding canvas chairs stowed in shoulder-strap bags, and Jacqui carried an insulated tote bag in which she’d packed bottles of water and a few healthy snacks in case Alice got hungry. Mitch had told Alice the match would last almost two hours counting breaks. If Alice wanted to stay for the entire game, they would be eating dinner later than usual.

  In addition to the chair bag slung over her shoulder and the insulated tote, Jacqui carried a patchwork crafts bag that held her latest knitting project. She couldn’t sit that long without keeping her hands busy. Her knitting was so automatic by now that she would have no problem watching the game and finishing the scarf at the same time.

  There weren’t a lot of spectators for the casual game. Most of the people in attendance were participants, either on the pitch or lined up on the sidelines waiting for someone to get winded and need a rest. Each team seemed to have an unofficial coach who kept their side organized, and a couple of volunteers served as officials, running up and down the field and enthusiastically blowing whistles. A great deal of noise and laughter accompanied the good-natured rivalry.

  “It’s doctors versus lawyers,” Alice confided with a laugh, nodding toward the competitors while she and Jacqui set up their chairs on a patch of grass where they could see the action. “The lawyers usually wear red shirts. Mitch said some people on both teams are students and some are older. He called himself one of the ‘old guys.’ I told him that was silly. He’s not old. Not really old anyway,” she added.

  Jacqui couldn’t help but smile as she took her seat. To a fourteen-year-old, thirty-one must seem fairly ancient, but at least Alice had conceded that Mitch wasn’t quite ready for a cane and a rocking chair.

  The match began with a flurry of kicks and head shots. The few spectators—most of whom seemed to be women with small children to entertain, keeping them from participating in the game themselves—cheered and called out encouragement. Although Jacqui made a determined effort to watch all the players, her gaze kept drifting to one in particular. Alice, too, watched intently for a short while, explaining rules of the game that Jacqui hadn’t known, but then her attention wandered to a group of teenagers playing idly with a flying disc nearby.

  “I think I know one of those girls from swim matches,” she said. “Okay if I go talk to them, Jacqui?”

  “Of course.” Not particularly surprised that Alice’s attention had drifted so quickly from the game she’d begged to attend, Jacqui almost advised the girl not to wander off too far, but she resisted the impulse. She had to keep reminding herself that Alice was growing up and understandably disliked being treated like a child.

  As her knitting needles clicked in a soothing rhythm, she thought back to when she’d been fourteen. Much less sheltered and supervised than Alice, she’d been more worldly and mature at that age. Her parents had left their daughters alone for hours, sometimes for a couple of days at a time while they’d pursued their own ever-changing interests or worked odd jobs to keep the family in gasoline, cheap motel rooms and food—in that order. Jacqui had been responsible for getting Olivia and herself ready for school. Neither high school graduates themselves, their parents hadn’t helped them with their homework or attended school programs with them. They hadn’t set curfews or bedtimes, and they’d shown only occasional interest in their daughters’ friends and activities.

  Eddie and Cindy Handy hadn’t been abusive parents. Just ineffective ones. They’d loved each other and their daughters, in their odd ways, but their own issues had prevented them from providing the sort of guidance and support their children had craved. They had grieved when Olivia died, so deeply that the gaping wound had been the final separation between them and Jacqui. They hadn’t argued long when she’d told them at seventeen that she wanted to make her own path from that point. They’d stayed in touch in a desultory fashion—but they hadn’t been a real family since. If, indeed, they had ever been.

  She drew her thoughts abruptly to the present, wondering what had triggered that melancholy little trip into the past. The fact that she was surrounded by seemingly happy families in the park? That she was watching a group of doctors playing with a group of lawyers, making her wonder if any of them could imagine an upbringing like hers? She wasn’t naive enough to assume that all these disparate professionals came from privileged or idealized backgrounds, but they had attained higher education, which made them different enough from her.

  She turned her attention back to her knitting, telling herself she was being silly. She belonged in this park as much as anyone. And she was perfectly
happy with the life she had chosen—despite her occasional vague longings for something she couldn’t even define.

  After forty-five minutes of play, the teams called a break for halftime. Alice drew herself away from her friends for a few minutes when she saw Mitch walking toward Jacqui.

  “You’re playing great, Mitch!” she said cheerily, bounding up to join them.

  Jacqui smiled wryly, wondering if Mitch was aware of how little notice Alice had actually given to the game.

  After taking a swig of a sports drink, he wiped his brow with a hand towel he’d brought in his sports bag and winked at Jacqui before answering his niece. “I’m glad you’ve been entertained.”

  Jacqui told herself the wink had only been conspiratorial, acknowledging Mitch’s awareness of Alice’s divided attentions. He hadn’t actually been flirting or anything, so there had been no reason for her heart to skip a beat in reaction.

  Mitch glanced at the knitting in Jacqui’s lap. “If y’all are ready to go, don’t feel like you have to stay until the end of the game for my sake.”

  “I’m not ready to leave yet,” Alice said quickly. “I’ve been hanging out with some kids my age over at the picnic tables.”

  Widening his eyes in mock surprise, Mitch said, “I thought you’d been watching my game.”

  “I can see it from over there,” she assured him. “Some of it anyway.”

  He laughed and tugged at the end of her curly ponytail. “Just teasing. But what about Jacqui? Maybe she’s bored sitting here by herself while you’re hanging out with friends and I’m playing.”

  “Not at all,” Jacqui answered candidly. “I’m enjoying it. And I’ve made good progress on finishing this scarf.”

  “See?” Alice beamed approvingly at Jacqui. “There’s no need for us to leave yet.”

  A whistle blew from the field, signaling that the game was about to start again. Mitch turned that direction. “Okay, see you both later then.”

  He jogged off without looking back.

  “You really don’t mind if I’m over there with the other kids?” Alice asked hesitantly before abandoning Jacqui again.

  “I really don’t mind,” Jacqui assured her with a smile. “Have a good time.”

  “Thanks.” Alice turned and hurried back toward the picnic tables, ponytail bobbing behind her. Jacqui picked up her needles again, her gaze on the field as the players assembled for the second half of the match. She’d lost count of the score, but she thought the doctors were ahead by one goal.

  “I don’t remember seeing you here before.”

  Her hands going still, Jacqui rested the almost-finished black scarf in her lap and turned to the woman who had greeted her from a nearby lawn chair. The woman must have set up there during the halftime break because Jacqui hadn’t noticed her before.

  “That’s because this is my first time here,” she replied with a faint smile.

  “Watching a friend play?”

  Jacqui laughed ruefully. “Actually, I brought a young friend to watch her uncle play, but she seems to have lost interest.”

  She intended to make it clear from the start that there was nothing between her and Mitch, even though she was attending his game. She doubted he would appreciate gossip or speculation about them among his friends and professional acquaintances, especially if it became known that she was his sister’s housekeeper.

  The other woman who was somewhere around Jacqui’s age looked tall and curvy even sitting down. Her undoubtedly expensive white blouse and capris were crisp and spotless even in the heat. Her softly curled black hair framed a square face with perfect, milk-chocolate skin and wide-set black eyes, and her smile was friendly enough, if a little reserved. “I’m Keira. I’m here with my fiancé. Nolan.”

  Keira motioned vaguely toward a man on the field who looked familiar to Jacqui. Had he been one of the three who’d interrupted her and Mitch at lunch yesterday? She thought one of them might have been named Nolan.

  “I’m Jacqui. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Scanning the field, Keira asked, “Is Mitch Baker your young friend’s uncle?”

  She must have seen them talking a few minutes earlier. “Yes, he is.”

  “He’s one of Nolan’s pals. They get together all the time to play basketball or soccer or video games or poker. When Nolan’s not at the hospital, he’s hanging out with the guys. Rather than fight him about it, I just tag along whenever I’m invited. He’s tried to talk me into playing soccer with them, but to be honest, I hate the game. All that running and sweating—not my style.”

  Jacqui chuckled in response to the frank admission. “Nolan’s a doctor, too, I take it?”

  “Anesthesiologist. He and Mitch were in the same medical school class.”

  Feeling a little wilted in the heat of the afternoon, Jacqui drew her half-finished bottled water from her tote. “I have an extra bottle if you’d like one,” she offered.

  “Thanks, but I have one. Have you known Mitch long?”

  Keira appeared more bored than nosey. She didn’t seem particularly interested in talking to any of the busy mothers swapping mommy stories nearby while keeping one eye on their kids and the other on the game. Maybe Keira thought she’d have more in common with Jacqui.

  Doubting that, Jacqui answered candidly, “I’ve known Mitch about a year. I work for his sister’s family.”

  The other woman looked toward the cluster of teens in which Alice stood chattering and giggling. “Are you a nanny?”

  “Alice is a little old for a nanny, though I do keep an eye on her. I’m the housekeeper.”

  Keira blinked. “Oh. You don’t—um…”

  You don’t look like a housekeeper. Jacqui finished the statement in her head, wondering how many times she’d heard it said in the past two years or so. Why did everyone think all housekeepers looked like Alice from The Brady Bunch?

  She shrugged. “I enjoy my work.”

  After a moment, Keira said, “I’m a respiratory therapist. That’s how I met Nolan.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Most days,” Keira agreed, still looking distracted by Jacqui’s occupation.

  A flurry of activity on the field captured their attention, and they watched as Mitch passed the ball to Nolan, who gave it a swift kick that sent the ball flying past the other team’s goalie and into the net. Cheering broke out among Mitch’s team and their few supporters on the sidelines. Jacqui clapped to demonstrate her own approval while Keira called out, “Way to go, baby!”

  Preening for his fiancée, Nolan flexed victoriously until his teammates shoved him back into action for the next play.

  For the next few minutes, Jacqui divided her attention between the game and her knitting while the other woman focused intently on the field, no longer in the mood for conversation apparently. She was almost surprised when Keira spoke again after a rather lengthy silence between them. “That girl you’re with? Alice?”

  Jacqui glanced instinctively toward her charge, frowning when she noted that Alice and a couple of other girls of about her age were gathered around a young man who looked to be three or four years their senior. The way Alice posed and giggled, it was obvious some serious flirting was going on. The other girls were performing too, all seemingly competing for the older boy’s approval. He lounged against a tree, visibly basking in the attention, though he was doing his best to look “cool.”

  Jacqui told herself not to be concerned; it was normal for fourteen-year-old girls to practice their flirting skills, though she had never been much of a flirt, herself. She’d had too many other things on her mind at that age—like making sure she and her sister had school supplies and their homework turned in on time.

  “What about Alice?”

  “That boy she and the others are talking to is Scott Lemon’s kid brother, Milo. He’s eighteen or very close to it. How old is Alice?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Keira nodded. “That’s about what I guessed. Just giving
you a heads-up.”

  “I appreciate it. Is it only the age difference that concerns you, or is there something more about him I should know?”

  The other woman’s hesitation was somewhat of an answer in itself. “I don’t really know him well. I’ve just seen him hanging around a few times with Nolan and Scott and the other guys. He’s Scott’s half brother, I think—something like twelve years younger than Scott.”

  And Keira hadn’t been impressed with what she’d seen—or heard—about the kid, Jacqui deduced. “Thank you. I’ll keep a close eye on her.”

  “Good idea.”

  Alice ran back over to Jacqui’s chairs only a few minutes later. Her eyes were alight with excitement, her cheeks unusually pink. “Okay if I go play miniature golf? I can get a ride home when I’m done.”

  Jacqui frowned. “You know that’s not nearly enough information, Alice. Who would you be playing with and who would be driving you home?”

  “Just some of the kids,” Alice answered vaguely. “And Milo would bring me home. He’s almost eighteen, and he has a driver’s license and a car.”

  “Sorry. No.”

  “It’s okay, Jacqui. His brother is one of Uncle Mitch’s best friends. So it’s not like he’s a stranger.”

  Behind Alice’s back, Keira looked studiously at the action on the field, pretending not to pay attention. Yet Jacqui saw the other woman shake her head slightly in response to Alice’s argument, as if offering silent advice. Advice Jacqui hadn’t actually needed.

  “No, Alice. You aren’t riding with a boy that neither your parents nor I have met.”

  “But Jacqui—”

  “If you really want to play miniature golf with your friends, I’ll come along. I can wait until you finish your game, then drive you home.”

  Alice wasn’t satisfied with what Jacqui considered to be a rather magnanimous offer. “They’ll all think I need a babysitter. What if Uncle Mitch says it’s okay? I mean, Milo is his friend’s brother, so Mitch would probably agree.”

  Jacqui glanced across the park to where Milo lounged against a tree, watching Alice with a look Jacqui didn’t care for at all. “Your father left me in charge of you, not your uncle. And my answer is no. Either I accompany you to the miniature golf course and drive you home afterward, or you can stay here with me until the end of the soccer game. Or we can leave now—your choice.”