“Let me wash off the layers of bug repellent, and I’ll set the table.”
“It’s a deal.” She stared fatuously after him as he disappeared the same way Toby and the dog had gone.
Toby reappeared, Bernie close behind him, just a few minutes after Rick left. Natalie had already cut up the salad, and the rolls were waiting to pop in at the last minute, so she decided to keep busy by getting down the plates and setting out the flatware. When Toby came and sat on a stool nearby, she smiled at him.
He grinned back.
“Time to set the table,” she said, in explanation of her actions.
But Toby apparently thought she was giving him instructions. Because he slid down from the stool and picked up the plates. Natalie watched, pleased, as Toby carried the plates to the breakfast table and set them around.
“Excellent,” she said, studying the plates and their placement on the table. “Do you know how to do the flatware, glasses and napkins?”
Solemnly Toby shook his head.
She showed him, very slowly setting one place for him, putting each piece where it belonged. “Think you can handle it?”
He nodded. Carefully, his little tongue caught between his teeth, he began the task. When he’d finished, a couple of the utensils had ended up backward, but apart from that it was a fine job.
Natalie was just telling him so when Rick returned. She looked up as he appeared from the hall. “You don’t have to set the table. Toby did.”
“He what?” Rick’s expression showed his disbelief.
“He set the table,” Natalie said again. Rick strode to Natalie’s side and examined his son’s handiwork. Natalie tried not to think how clean and good he smelled, or to pay any attention at all to the way her pulse insisted on acting up at his nearness.
“This is just…”
Natalie could hear the jubilation in his voice, and she put her hand on his arm. He looked at her.
“Good,” she said evenly. “It’s good.”
He took her cue that he shouldn’t go overboard about it. “Yeah,” he agreed after a moment. “It’s good.”
With a shy, pleased smile, Toby turned away from them and headed for the great room, where he switched on the television and stretched out on the rug in front of it. Bernie, who’d been sitting by the breakfast table while Toby set the places, got up and went to lie beside the boy.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Rick whispered in her ear.
His praise warmed her, while the caress of his breath against her skin sent shivers singing along every nerve ending she possessed. She suggested, “Maybe Toby’s ready to take on a few chores around the house.”
“Maybe he is.”
They grinned at each other. And then she realized she was still holding his arm. She let go and jumped back as if touching him burned her.
He stared at her in obvious bewilderment. “What’s the matter?”
She knew then that even if Rick didn’t need that frank talk she kept pondering having with him, she did.
“We have to talk.” There. She had said it.
He didn’t seem the least bit surprised. “When?”
“Tonight. After Toby’s in bed.”
“Are you…interested in me—as a woman, I mean?”
Rick, who was sitting at the other end of the couch from her in the great room, stared at her for a moment. Then, grimly, he answered, “Yes.”
She sighed. “I thought so.”
“You don’t want me to be interested? Is that what this is about?”
Her heart cried, Oh, but I do! She told it to shut up. “I don’t want to get involved with anyone right now. I really don’t.”
He watched her for another endless moment, his blue eyes hooded in the lamplight. “Because of the guy with the Hawaiian shirt?”
She let out a little groan. “You did hear that message.”
“I was standing at the sink—”
“Peeling carrots, right?”
“Washing lettuce, I think it was.”
“Whatever.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. “That was Joel.”
“Your ex, right? The one you told me about yesterday, who broke it off with you a month ago.”
“Right. Recently, though, he changed his mind and wanted to work things out. I don’t. Not with anybody. I want…some time on my own.”
“I see.”
She looked up, desperate for him to understand. “Oh, Rick. When you came to see the house that day, I was so happy. And I liked you so much. And Toby, too. I knew that I’d found just the right people to live here with Bernie while I was gone. I didn’t realize…” She had no idea how to go on.
He did it for her. “That you liked me in more ways than one.”
“I…”
“Come on, Natalie. It’s there in the air, every time we look at each other. Are you going to try to tell me it’s only coming from me?”
She longed to say yes, but she just couldn’t get her mouth around a lie that big. “No.”
“You feel something for me, too, then?”
“I… Yes.”
“But you don’t want to act on it.”
“It’s just…too sudden for me. It’s not what I’m looking for.”
“And what are you looking for?”
She threw up both hands. “That’s just it. I don’t exactly know. Lately, my whole world seems so crazy. Turned upside down. If you read the newspaper or turn on the news, you know what a mess my family’s in. And then there’s my personal life. I really thought I loved Joel. But after he broke it off, I started to see that it had been more habit than anything else. I thought that I was safe with him. He depended on me. Needed me, I thought, and I… Oh, you don’t want to hear this, do you?”
He seemed to be studying her face. When he spoke, his voice was carefully reasonable. “You’re confused.”
“Major understatement.”
Now he was the one sighing. “At least you’re being honest with me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So what do we do?”
“I could…move across the lake, until it’s time for me to leave.”
“The prospect doesn’t seem to thrill you.”
“It doesn’t. Things are pretty grim over there, and I’m trying to stay out of the problems my family is having. But I could do it, and I’d be willing to do it, if that was what you wanted. Or I could check into a hotel for a while.”
“There’s another option. Toby and I could leave.”
She met his eyes. “No. Really. I don’t want that. I have this feeling that this is the place Toby should be right now. And you’re still the perfect tenants. Except for this…thing between you and me.”
“I agree with you—about Toby, at least. And right now, in my life, Toby’s what matters most.”
“Then you do want to stay?”
“Yeah. And you don’t want to go?”
“No, not unless I have to.”
“So what do we do, then?”
“Well…”
“Say it.”
“All right. I was thinking that we could give avoidance a try.”
“Avoidance?”
“Yes. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”
“No more chicken-and-broccoli casseroles?” He looked wistful.
“Right. Since you’re renting the place, you have priority. I’ll work around you. I’ll either eat out or use the kitchen when you’re not.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know about this.”
“Let’s give it a chance, at least. And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”
Later, in bed, Rick told himself he was better off knowing up front that Natalie Fortune had no idea what she wanted from life—except that it wasn’t him.
He supposed he’d been wrong about her from the first. She wasn’t his fantasy girl-next-door come to life, after all. She was a very confused woman. She’d said it herself.
Unfortunately, he
couldn’t seem to get certain images out of his mind. Images of Natalie, dressed in spangles and sequins, singing “Piece of My Heart” at the top of her lungs. And smiling at Toby, that very first time, when Toby had smiled back. And yesterday, on the front lawn, in old cutoffs, with her hair in a falling-down ponytail, a fine dew of sweat making her smooth skin gleam…
Rick groaned and turned over and tried to ignore the fact that he was aroused again.
He was playing the fool. Getting sentimental—and totally turned on—over a woman who’d just told him to keep away from her.
He gritted his teeth and pictured the scale drawings of the shopping mall he’d been working on just before he took the summer off. He re-created on the screen of his mind each and every line of those damn blueprints, until there was nothing left of his desire but a sore jaw from clenching it so hard.
It would work out all right, he told himself. He’d stay clear of Natalie Fortune as much as possible, as they’d agreed. Because the last damn thing he needed in his life right now was some confused little rich girl playing games with his mind.
It was some time after eleven when he finally managed to fall asleep. And it seemed like only moments later that Toby’s terrified screams had him shooting bolt upright and shoving the covers back.
Six
Rick raced for the door that connected his room to his son’s room. Once there, he flicked the wall switch.
Toby shrieked.
Rick blinked against the sudden glare, then forced his eyes open and scanned the room. The bed with the airplane spread was empty, the covers all tangled. In a corner, across the room, Toby cowered, scrunched into a tight ball, knees drawn up, head down.
“Toby.” Rick tried to speak calmly, though his heart was racing and his blood was roaring so strongly in his ears that it seemed almost loud enough to compete with Toby’s anguished wails. “Toby, listen. Toby, it’s Daddy. Toby, it’s okay.” Cautiously Rick approached.
Toby seemed to cower down into himself, growing ever smaller, until he was little more than a pitiful knot of sharp elbows and thin ankles and knobby knees and rumpled Snoopy pajamas. He shook, his head still buried against his knees, unwilling to look up.
“Oh, Toby…” Total helplessness washed over Rick, as it did every time this happened. He wanted to shield and protect.
And yet the demons were inside his son’s mind. How could Rick protect Toby from that?
Dr. Dawkins had said Rick should “Offer comfort. Be there for Toby when the nightmares strike. Above all, don’t overreact yourself. Be calm. Show him everything’s okay by how okay you are.”
It all sounded great. The only problem was, when this happened, Rick just didn’t feel particularly okay. He felt powerless and angry. He wanted to fight those demons. He wanted to smash them to dust.
He drew in a calming breath and let it out slowly, then dropped into a crouch before his son. He reached out. “Toby…”
Toby gave a frightened cry and pressed himself tighter against the wall.
“Toby, son…”
Toby dared to look up. His eyes were blue pools of stark fear. He hunched his shoulders and pointed beyond Rick’s shoulder. Rick looked back and saw nothing but the door to the room’s small closet, slightly ajar.
He turned to his son again and found that Toby had buried his head against his knees once more. Rick hadn’t the faintest idea what to do next. “Oh, Toby…”
And then he heard Natalie’s soft voice. “Rick.”
He whipped his head around. She was standing in the door to the central hall, wearing a white terry-cloth robe. Her slender feet were bare, and her hair was loose and tangled around her face. The bright overhead light reflected off the gold chain around her neck, and made the rosebud charm seem to glow. The big dog stood slightly behind her, out in the hall.
Rick forgot all about the things she’d said to him earlier in the evening. All he felt was thankful that she had come, that she would help. He didn’t doubt for a second that she would know what to do.
He rose to his feet and stepped aside as she came to take his place before Toby, crouching down as he himself had done. Bernie crossed the threshold and then sat just inside the door.
Rick watched what she did.
She didn’t try to touch Toby right away. She just spoke, very slowly and deliberately.
“Tell me, Toby. Tell me what it is.”
Still quivering, Toby lifted his head.
“Tell me,” she said again.
Toby looked at her for the longest time. And then his lips silently shaped a single word.
Monster.
“Where?” Natalie asked.
He looked beyond her shoulder, to the closet door. And then, his hand shaking a little, he raised it and pointed his finger where he looked.
Bernie growled. Rick glanced at the big, normally friendly dog, and saw he was baring his teeth at the closet door.
Rick looked back at his son, who had stopped shaking and was staring in wide-eyed adoration at the dog.
Natalie chose that moment to reach out. “Come here. Come on.” With a hungry little cry, Toby surged into her open arms.
Holding him tight against her body, whispering words of comfort, she stood. “Listen. You’re safe. Your dad’s here. And Bernie. And me, too. We won’t let that monster get you. Never. Never in a million years.” She stroked and patted and crooned soothing promises as she carried him to the bed and sat down, settling him in her lap. Bernie padded immediately over to the edge of the bed, where he nuzzled Toby’s leg.
When the boy reached out to touch the dog, Natalie looked up and signaled Rick to turn off the harsh overhead light. She switched on the airplane lamp at the same time. The softer light was a welcome change, Rick realized.
Natalie edged Toby off her lap and then waved Rick over to sit next to him on his other side. Then, when they sat in a row on the edge of the bed, with Bernie at their feet, she asked, “Was the monster in the closet, Toby, is that it?”
The boy shivered and leaned close to her. She put her arm around him. Rick saw him nod.
She stroked Toby’s hair. “You know there really are no monsters, don’t you, Toby?”
Toby knew no such thing; he shook his head vehemently.
“Okay, I admit,” Natalie confessed, “My grandpa Ben always said there was a monster at the bottom of Lake Travis. But it was a friendly monster.”
That got Toby’s attention. He pulled back and stared at her, wide-eyed.
“You didn’t know there were friendly monsters, Toby?”
Solemnly Toby shook his head.
“Well, in my experience, that’s the only kind there are.”
Toby looked at her. It seemed to Rick that he desperately wanted to believe, but somehow didn’t quite dare.
“Hey,” she said. “How would you like it if Bernie slept in here with you?” She glanced at Rick. “If your dad says it’s okay, that is.”
Rick agreed without a second’s hesitation. “No problem for me.”
Natalie looked at Toby again. “Well?”
Toby’s nod was quick and eager.
“Okay, then. It’s settled.” She stood. “And I’m going back to my own bed, where I belong. Good night, Toby.”
Toby nodded.
Natalie straightened her robe and patted her dog on the head. “Stay.”
And then she turned to go.
Rick couldn’t stop himself. “Natalie.”
She paused and gave him one last look. He met her eyes, trying to communicate in a glance exactly how damn grateful he was, not caring at all that he probably reminded her of Toby gazing in adoration and wonder at her Saint Bernard. “Thanks.”
She granted him a tiny smile and a nod. And then she was gone.
As Rick tucked Toby in again, he told himself that Natalie Fortune could turn away from the attraction between them from now until doomsday—he’d be forever grateful for what she was doing to help Toby.
Meanwhile, out in t
he central hall, Natalie paused at the foot of the stairs, tempted to linger and speak with Rick just a little when he was through in Toby’s room. But then she recalled too clearly the sight of him a moment ago, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms and looking at her as if she had single-handedly saved the world from destruction.
No, the last thing she should do right now was to hang around for another word with him. With a sigh of regret, she mounted the stairs.
The next day, Monday, Rick and Natalie were cordial with each other at breakfast time. No casual observer would have noticed the subtle tension between them.
Toby came to the table and ate heartily. Rick couldn’t help thinking that, in the few days they’d been at the farmhouse, Toby had begun to seem more and more like a normal, healthy little boy. Except for his continuing silence, of course. And the occasional forays into tight spaces. And the nightmare last night.
But the nightmares really weren’t as frequent as they’d once been. And Toby did eat better now. And sometimes, now, he smiled. His face had more animation in it.
Dr. Hawkins had said that these things would happen, that Toby was coming along fine. Until lately, though, it had been hard for Rick to believe it.
Until Natalie. And her dog.
In fact, it had occurred to Rick after he crawled back into his bed last night that without Natalie and the dog, Toby could end up right back where he started: isolated inside himself, unable—or unwilling—to reach out.
Natalie would be gone just exactly two weeks from now. The dog would be around until the end of August. But when Toby and Rick returned to Minneapolis, the dog would stay behind. Toby’s weekly visit with Dr. Dawkins was scheduled for two that afternoon. Rick decided he’d have to share his concern with the psychiatrist, and see what she said about it.
In the meantime, he looked across the table at his landlady and tried not to think about the creamy softness of her skin in the morning light, or the tender shadows beneath her eyes that made him wonder if she’d slept as little as he had last night.
After breakfast, Rick took Toby out to the dock for a while. They played at fishing with a couple of ancient poles Rick had found in the boathouse. When pretending to fish got old, they wandered back inside and settled down in the great room with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles puzzle. Rick was showing Toby a few tricks for putting a puzzle together when the Saint Bernard, who was flopped comfortably nearby, suddenly lifted his head and growled—the same growl he’d given the monster in the closet the night before.
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