A Family for Easter

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “Just as long as you don’t steal all the peanut butter eggs,” he said, pulling his face into a mock-serious expression. “Those are mine, lady.”

  “No way, they’re my favorites, too! You won’t be seeing any from the Farmingham household.”

  “Wait a minute.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re a basket thief, too?”

  “Of course!”

  “Openly or stealth?”

  “Oh, stealth, for sure. But I think Lauren’s onto me. She took her basket to her room and hid it in the closet last year.”

  “You need to perfect your approach.”

  They were both laughing, gazes locked, standing close together. Something arced between them, a connection of humor and empathy and, maybe, something more.

  Maybe if Eduardo were to bend a little closer and kiss her, she wouldn’t pull back.

  But what was she thinking? Women like Fiona didn’t get men like Eduardo.

  Not only that, but they were standing at the edge of a retirement center cafeteria, all tile floors and Formica tables, laughter and small talk drifting over from the few groups of people at the tables.

  They were still looking at each other. She needed to pull back, and quickly.

  “I used to decorate like that for all the school dances,” said a shaky voice behind them.

  Just in time. Fiona turned and saw a tiny woman in a wheelchair. “Miss Elsie! I haven’t seen you in church lately.”

  “Can’t do anything much now.” The woman looked down at her own body with what seemed to be disgust.

  Eduardo knelt beside her and took her tiny hand. “Hey, Miss Elsie. We could use some help with the decorating if you’re up for it.”

  “I don’t know what use I could be. Can’t walk since I broke my hip. Don’t have much energy.”

  Eduardo took the crepe paper roll from Fiona and placed it in the older woman’s hands. “If you do the twisting while Fiona rolls you along and I get the ladder set up, it’ll go a lot faster. Fiona can get on the step stool beside me, and you can hand it up to her. I won’t have to keep climbing up and down.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you patronize me, Eduardo Delgado.”

  “We could use the help, but it’s up to you,” he said with a shrug and climbed the ladder.

  Fiona hurried over to the wall and grabbed the step stool, setting it up between the tall ladder and the wheelchair.

  Miss Elsie began twisting the crepe paper, and when it was ready, she handed it to Fiona, who handed it to Eduardo.

  It was, in fact, a quicker and easier way to work.

  Had Eduardo wanted to get the job over with quickly? Did he dislike working alone with Fiona? Or was he just being kind to an old woman who seemed in need of cheering up?

  Fiona blew out a breath, and with it, her childish thoughts. What mattered was that the cafeteria began looking more and more festive, and a woman who’d been complaining of uselessness felt useful.

  “How much of that crepe paper do you have?” Miss Elsie asked.

  “Lots. Why?”

  “It looks nice if you twist two together,” Miss Elsie said. She took a pink strand, held it together with a white one and demonstrated. “And if you loop the ends around, like so, it covers the tape.” As she spoke, she added a couple of twists and folds to the end of the streamer to make a flower effect.

  “Wow, that’s pretty!” Fiona studied the flower. “Can you show me how?”

  “It does look better.” Eduardo took the paper flower from Fiona and climbed the ladder to affix it to the spot where the streamer was taped to the ceiling.

  “We’re obviously rank amateurs,” Fiona said. “Do you think we need to redo the ones that are done?”

  Elsie waved her hand. “Goodness, no. It’s a party for kids and old people. No one needs or wants perfection.”

  “Well,” Eduardo said as he carried the ladder to the next location, Fiona pulling Elsie backward so she could twist the strands, “we’re a little bit closer to perfection because of you. Thank you.”

  Elsie beckoned for Fiona to bend closer as Eduardo climbed the ladder. “He’s a charmer, that one,” she said. “Hold on to him.”

  “I’m not...” Fiona broke off. She wasn’t with Eduardo, and she didn’t want anyone to think she was; on the other hand, making a big deal out of how they weren’t together didn’t seem like the right move, either.

  She set up her stepladder, took the twisted paper from Elsie and climbed up to Eduardo.

  They were taping up the last streamer when a man spoke up behind her. “Where you from, honey?”

  Fiona turned on the stepladder and looked down to see Kirk, the red-shirted man who’d complained about candy and gas, pointing at her. “I’m from Illinois,” she said.

  His bushy grey eyebrows lifted. “They grow ’em tall out there, don’t they?”

  Heat rose in her face as she descended the stepladder, wanting to get out of the spotlight. Talk about embarrassing! Would her size always be the first thing people noticed about her?

  “Kirk Whittaker, you shut your mouth.” Nonna D’Angelo said. “Fiona just needs a taller man than you are, that’s all.” She pulled herself to her full height of, at most, five foot three and glared at Mr. Whittaker, who wasn’t much bigger.

  The old man’s face turned as red as his shirt. He glanced around, stiffened his back and squared his shoulders.

  As she stood beside the stepladder, her face still warm, a thought struck Fiona: in addition to being about the same height as she was, Reggie had been slender, not muscular like Eduardo.

  Maybe that was why he’d always told her to wear low heels and lose weight. Maybe he’d just felt small around her.

  Another man, even shorter than Mr. Whittaker and sporting ancient-looking baggy blue jeans, strolled over. “What’s that you say about tall women?”

  Fiona groaned inwardly.

  “Now, me,” the jeans-clad man said around the toothpick he was chewing, not waiting for an answer, “I like a tall gal. My Lulu was six foot and did some modeling. I was proud to be at her side, even when she wore those high spike heels.”

  Miss Minnie Falcon shook her head and looked directly at Fiona but spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “We’re God’s workmanship, and that’s the important thing. And all this focus on appearances takes away from what’s truly important. What’s in our hearts.” She frowned sternly at the two men.

  Obviously understanding the reprimand, they looked away from the stern former Sunday school teacher and got very busy cleaning up from the centerpiece-decorating project.

  Still up on the ladder, Eduardo cleared his throat. “We’d better finish up,” he said and climbed down. The elders, with the exception of Elsie, started carrying supplies to the boxes that lined one side of the room.

  Fiona partially turned to find Eduardo standing closer than she’d expected. “I’m with Miss Minnie,” he said in a half whisper. “We’re all God’s workmanship. And he did a particularly fine job on you.”

  Heat rose in her face again and she turned toward him. “Eduardo...”

  “Inside and out,” he added, looking directly into her eyes.

  And then he backed up and moved the ladder to the next location, leaving Fiona to push Elsie’s wheelchair. Meanwhile, Fiona’s heart was pounding like Ryan’s snare drum, way too hard and loud. Was it her imagination, or did handsome Eduardo feel something romantic toward her? And if he did...was he likely to do anything about it?

  Be careful. Don’t get sucked in.

  She liked Eduardo and thought him to be a good person, but he was a man. And in her experience, men were genetically predisposed to betray women.

  Especially women like her.

  Chapter Eight

  Eduardo berated himself as he carried a ladder toward the st
orage room, Fiona walking in front of him.

  Why’d you tell her how good she looks? Why would you want to say a thing like that? Why do you keep half hitting on her when you know you can’t take it anywhere?

  Fiona paused at the window, and the sunlight set her red hair on fire. She glanced back at him, wariness in her eyes. She knew he was interested, all right.

  And that was bad. Because no matter how interested he was, he couldn’t act on it. He kept walking past her, ignoring her magnetic pull.

  “Looks like the kids are outside,” she said as he passed.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be out in a minute.” Or more. However long it took to calm his fool self down.

  Ten minutes later, he’d put the ladders away, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. At the same time, he gave himself a lecture about how he was committed to his kids, and only his kids, and how he wasn’t in the market for a relationship.

  Still, when he walked outside to see his children and Fiona’s all clustered around a long bench with a giant white Easter bunny, with Fiona watching from across the wide deck, his resolve started to melt away.

  Why was it, again, that he couldn’t take a stab at forming a family with Fiona?

  Poppy sat on the bench off to one side, a good six or eight feet away from the crowd around the bunny. She had a basket in her hands and was rhythmically putting candy into her mouth. Chocolate, if the smears on her hands and face were any indication.

  As he approached, Fiona half turned.

  “Poppy’s okay?” he asked.

  Fiona smiled fondly at her youngest child. “She’s scared of the Easter Bunny,” she said, “but not too scared to take the basket of chocolate eggs he offered her.”

  “Smart kid.” And she was cute, too, with her flyaway blond hair and big serious eyes.

  The bunny held out a basket to the other kids, and they all took pieces of paper out of it. The two older girls read theirs and ran off quickly. Maya, Ryan and Diego, slower readers, stood studying theirs.

  Diego’s forehead wrinkled and the color heightened in his cheeks. All of a sudden, he flung the paper back at the bunny. “This isn’t the right way to do an egg hunt,” he yelled.

  Maya grabbed the fluttering sheet of paper. “If you don’t want to find your surprise, I’ll take it.”

  “Gimme that!” Diego grabbed the paper roughly out of Maya’s hand.

  “Hey!” Ryan said, stepping protectively in front of Maya. “Don’t be mean to my sister!”

  Instantly, without looking at each other, Fiona and Eduardo both headed toward the kids.

  Eduardo reached the small group first and gripped Diego’s shoulder firmly. “What’s going on? You know better than to talk to people that way.”

  “I hate this egg hunt,” Diego muttered, looking away.

  “He was mean to Maya.” Ryan glared at Diego.

  “Diego, do you need to apologize?” Eduardo asked.

  “It’s no big deal.” Maya shrugged and turned toward the lawn where colorful eggs peeped through the grass. “I’m gonna go hunt for eggs.”

  “Sorry,” Diego grunted after her.

  “And I’m gonna find my surprise,” Ryan said. He looked at Fiona and Eduardo and held up his square of paper. “The Easter Bunny made it like a treasure hunt, and every kid gets a special surprise.” Then he added in a whisper, “I think the Easter Bunny is Police Chief Coleman.”

  From inside the bunny, a low chuckle sounded. “Oh, no, no, no. Nobody knows the true identity of the Easter Bunny, young man.”

  Eduardo held out a hand for Diego’s paper, then studied its small closely printed letters and immediately understood the problem. He turned to Diego. “Come on, let’s sit down and look at your clue sheet together.”

  “I don’t want to do it.”

  The Easter Bunny had been quiet, but now he stood. “Time for the old EB to go cool off,” he said. Leaning toward Fiona, he whispered, “This suit is as hot as wearing a plastic bag in the desert at high noon.”

  She laughed and touched the bunny’s arm. “You poor thing. You’re enjoying every minute of this, and you know it.”

  The bunny chuckled again, and Eduardo felt jealousy knife through his chest.

  “I might enjoy it,” Dion added, quietly enough that the kids didn’t hear, “except it smells like every other sweaty guy that ever rented it.” He patted Diego’s and Ryan’s heads with a giant paw and headed toward the door into the Towers.

  Eduardo was glad to see him go, which was ridiculous. Was he seriously jealous of a man in a bunny suit? He squatted in front of his son with the clue sheet. “You know what to do when you start getting frustrated, right?”

  “Oh, Dad...” Diego’s lower lip stuck out a little, his face still reminiscent of the toddler he’d been.

  Eduardo clenched his teeth to keep from reading the page aloud to his son. “You know the steps to take.”

  “I just want to find my egg! I don’t wanna go slow and sound it out.”

  That made sense. Again, Eduardo fought the urge to just do the work for his son. “Is there another way you could get it done?”

  Diego sighed and turned to Ryan. “I’m sorry I was mean to Maya,” he said. “You want to look for our eggs together? I have dyslexia, and it’s hard for me to read this.” He took the clue sheet from his dad and held it up.

  “Sure, I’ll help,” Ryan said. “Let’s go!”

  And they ran off together.

  Fiona stared after them and then sat down on the steps of the deck. Her forehead wrinkled and she cocked her head to one side.

  He shouldn’t sit down next to her, and there wasn’t much room on the step. He’d have to sit close.

  Plus, the deck’s fences and surrounding bushes gave them privacy. The last thing they needed.

  But he was curious about what put that thoughtful expression on her face, so he sat down against his better judgment. “What?” he asked her.

  “Diego has dyslexia,” she said slowly, “and he does just fine. He takes steps to get help when he needs to.”

  “He gets embarrassed sometimes,” Eduardo said. “But his teachers and I drill into him that it’s not his fault. He learns differently, and sometimes he needs a different kind of help.” He looked after his son and pride welled in his chest. “He’s getting better about dealing with it.”

  “Eduardo,” she said, gently grasping his arm, “do you think I could get help with my math thing, even though I’m an adult? Learn strategies to work around it?”

  He tried to ignore the way her touch seemed to radiate through his body. “Of course you could.”

  “How?”

  “Well...I’m no expert, but I do get a magazine from a national organization about learning disabilities. They have a whole section for adults with LD.”

  “Can I look at it sometime? Soon?”

  “Of course. I’ll get you a couple of copies tonight. I’m sure there are online resources, too.”

  “Because, the way Diego acted just then?” She spoke rapidly, her cheeks pink. “That’s how I used to feel. Still do, sometimes.”

  “Like when we were looking at spreadsheets at the Chatterbox?”

  She nodded. “Exactly. I’ve learned to cover it up under a ditzy-female routine, but I’m not laughing on the inside. Except now, I am. Or smiling, at least. Because maybe I can get help with it.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Why hadn’t her parents gotten her help long ago?

  “And maybe,” she went on, her eyes glowing, “maybe I can even get to where I can have a business again.” Her hand tightened on his arm. “Oh, Eduardo, that would be so fantastic. It’s been my dream, ever since I became a mom, to have a part-time business and stay home with the kids. I have dozens of ideas.”

  She was so pretty that he was tongue-tied. He just nodde
d like an idiot and kept staring at her.

  She let go of his arm, maybe misinterpreting his silence. “I’d better not get too excited about this, right? I mean, who knows whether I’m one of those people who can be helped? I’m a whole lot older than Diego.” She slid away from him, as much as possible on the narrow step. “I’m sorry to go so crazy on you, just because I saw your son figure something out.”

  Seeing her get so excited about the future and about new possibilities had warmed Eduardo’s heart. Seeing her back off made it hurt. He didn’t want her to retreat into fear and shame again.

  He wanted to help her blossom.

  Like it had a will of its own, his hand reached out to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen over her cheek. Once there, his thumb decided to stroke her jawline, just a little.

  And now, a whole different kind of emotion came into her gold-flecked eyes, in fact, a mixture of them: fear and worry, but also that awareness he’d seen a time or two before.

  He drew in a breath and tried to smile reassuringly. “It’s nice to see you excited about the future.” Which would have worked as an excuse for his touching her, except that his hand was still up there, cupping her face.

  Her own hand came up to his. To pull it away? No. Just to rest on top of his. Her breath was a little ragged, too, almost as ragged as Eduardo’s own.

  He knew he shouldn’t kiss her. There were reasons, lots of reasons. It was just that, right now, he couldn’t exactly remember what they were.

  “We shouldn’t...” she began. But her hand clutched his, convulsively, holding it to her face.

  “I know.” He leaned closer. “Tell me no.”

  Her eyes were wide. Slowly, she shook her head. “No.”

  “No, don’t kiss you? Or no, you’re not going to tell me no?”

  “No,” she said in a husky whisper, “I’m not going to tell you no.”

  * * *

  Fiona felt her heart turn to butter as Eduardo’s lips brushed hers, then came back to linger, warm against her mouth. She yielded to him, dizzily, and tightened her hand over his to steady herself. After a moment he pulled away and rubbed his cheek against hers, rough as sandpaper against her softness.