Wish Me Tomorrow

by Karen Rock

  “Mrs. Kevlar,” he murmured and pulled out his twitching phone. He powered it off without looking at the screen.

  Mrs. Luce nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Kevlar told me of your health issues. And of your wife’s...absence. Is there some chance that she might be of help?”

  Absence? Was that the euphemism used for being dumped? He passed a hand over his eyes. “Let’s leave her out of this. She won’t want to be involved.”

  “But surely, as a mother, she’d—”

  “She was never a mother to them.” And it was true. He’d changed their diapers, read them to sleep, made their lunches, ordered their birthday cakes. As the eldest child of twelve, his ex had once told him she’d already done her share of parenting.

  Mrs. Luce’s face softened. Did she pity him? Now, that he couldn’t stand. His family might be having a tough time, but they’d get through it. They always did.

  “And have you been engaging Becca and Tommy? Talking to them about everything that’s going on? Encouraging them to express their feelings?”

  Now she sounded like Christie.

  “We’re going to counseling today,” replied Eli, certain now, more than ever, that he’d been right to make that appointment. If only he’d done it sooner. Prevented Becca from digging herself this hole. He noticed a penny by his loafers. It was heads up. Christie would say that was good luck, though fate was hardly on his side today.

  Mrs. Luce rested her head on the high brown back of her chair. The rain-forest sounds quieted, replaced by the muffled thrum of Manhattan traffic. After a long moment, she leveled her gaze on him.

  “Given the extenuating circumstances, I believe we can work out a plan so that Becca still has a chance of attending Elisabeth Irwin this fall.”

  His heart sped as he leaned forward. “It would mean a lot.” He would do whatever it took to get his family back on track. But for right now, he needed Mrs. Luce on his side.

  The principal hit another button on her sound soother and set the metallic balls back in motion. “If you agree to attend family counseling until school starts in September, and Becca makes up her work over the summer, I will recommend her promotion to ninth grade.”

  Relief flooded him. “That’s generous. Thank you.”

  She pointed a gold-tipped pen. “I’ll need to see signed documentation from your counselor along with Becca’s completed assignments. You can pick them up tomorrow.”

  “Will do.” He glanced down at the gleaming copper penny. He almost left it on the floor then discreetly pocketed it instead. Not that he believed in crazy superstitions. But it would remind him of how close he’d come to losing touch with his daughter.

  “Would you excuse Becca and Tommy so they can leave with me? Our appointment is at Memorial Hospital in an hour.” No way was he taking a chance they’d be late.

  “Of course. And, Mr. Roberts?”

  He stopped at the door and turned.

  “Good luck.”

  * * *

  CHRISTIE’S ACHING FEET carried her down the hallway of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Counseling Center. A pink-and-white-checkered dog leash drooped by her side, Sweet Pea trotting on the other end. Where did her pet’s boundless energy come from? After working seven days straight, she couldn’t wait to hang up her monkey-ears stethoscope and head home. Not that Sweet Pea worked every shift. As an Angel on a Leash therapy dog, the spaniel accompanied her two times a week and during their monthly Toward Tomorrow group forum.

  “Paging Nurse Bates. Nurse Bates line 224,” crackled the PA system.

  She rubbed her forehead. Minutes from a clean getaway. She pressed a hand to her tender back and turned into a nearby nurses’ station. She hooked Sweet Pea’s leash on an unused IV pole and leaned over the gray countertop for the phone.

  “Christie Bates,” she said after punching the blinking red button.

  “Christie!” exclaimed her friend and fellow grief counselor Joan. “Thank goodness you haven’t left yet.”

  She twisted the cord around her finger. “Nope. Still here. What’s up?” She leaned down and ruffled Sweet Pea’s long ears.

  “Look, I hate to ask a favor, but Michael is tied up in court and Haylee gets out of school in half an hour. Would you take my last client? We’ve been trying to cancel, but he hasn’t answered his phone.”

  Her gaze bounced from the rushing nurses to the furiously scribbling doctors. An intercom buzzed while the receptionist drained her coffee and put a third call on hold. “No problem.” She strove to keep the sigh out of her voice. They were all working on fumes.

  “Yes! I knew you’d understand. Thanks so much, Christie. He’s new and the file is outside my office.”

  She stepped aside to let a nurses’ aide wheel a blood-pressure machine past her. On the other end of the phone a car honk sounded. “Where are you calling from?” She definitely heard someone shouting about roasted chestnuts in the background.

  “I’m already outside. But I can come back in,” her colleague finished in a rush.

  “Don’t give it another thought.” Christie seated herself at the desk and pulled a pad from her pocket. “What do you know about the patient?”

  “Father’s in remis for osteosarcoma. His teenage daughter’s been withdrawing. Straight-up family counseling. No surprises.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d suggested that Eli’s kids needed someone to talk to. Could he be Joan’s patient? Heaven help her if he was. “Joan, by any chance...is there a younger son?”

  Joan’s voice rose. “Taxi! What do I have to do, wear a fur coat and wave a ten-carat ring?” Her voice lowered. “But yes. The boy’s in second grade. Has a habit of running away.”

  The chattering nurses, ringing phones and beeping pagers receded, and a dull roar filled her pounding head. She was not ready for this today. Not when she hadn’t thought about Eli in—she checked her watch—four hours.

  “The name?” she whispered. A stack of charts skittered from beneath her elbow and onto the floor. She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and picked up the mess with unsteady hands.

  “Yes! Finally,” shouted Joan. “Look, I’ve got to get this cab. A lady with a wheelie walker’s heading this way. But I owe you, okay? You’re a doll.” The line went dead.

  She stared at the receiver before returning it to its holder. Her hands smoothed her pink scrubs, the puppy pattern matching Sweet Pea’s therapy vest. This was not happening. If the name on the chart matched her suspicions, Joan was wrong. They were all in for a big surprise.

  A minute later, she stopped outside Joan’s office, her worst fear confirmed. If she’d known Eli’s family waited behind that door, would she have said no? Despite her best intentions, he’d been on her mind all week, her thoughts replaying their conversation like a favorite song.

  Her fingers tightened on his chart. She’d been careful all these years to guard herself from personal involvement in her clients’ lives. Her childhood heartbreak was enough to last her a lifetime. But Eli’s warmth, compassion and strength made her forget those rules and want something more. Something that could rip apart her patchwork heart. She sympathized with his situation, but that would have to be enough. Her shoulders squared. She’d be friendly and professional, the way she treated all of her patients.

  She knocked and entered. “Hello, Tommy, Becca.” She swallowed and risked a look at their father. Her stomach executed a triple somersault with a half twist. “Eli. I’ll be filling in for Mrs. Osar today.”

  His good looks struck her with an almost-physical force. When he stood to his impressive height, she admired the pull of his fitted white dress shirt across his broad shoulders and the navy tie that set off his incredible eyes. His dark eyebrows rose as he stepped forward and extended a hand.

  “Looks like you can’t get
away from us,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. Her heart tumbled to a halt. Breathe, she reminded herself. Too much time around this gorgeous man and she’d need the AED machine.

  His warm palm pressed firmly against hers. When she peered up at him, her cheeks flushed under his intense gaze.

  “Sweet Pea!” squealed Tommy, breaking her trance. Eli blinked down at the wriggling dog but didn’t let go.

  She extricated herself with a small tug and stepped back, the sensation of his hand lingering. Why were her senses refusing to listen to reason? She needed to focus. Conduct herself properly. And hand holding with a patient was a huge step over the line.

  Tommy launched himself at Sweet Pea. Her paws landed on either side of his neck, her pink tongue darting for his cheek. “She likes me!” Tommy laughed. He twisted his head, a token defense against the affectionate onslaught. Sweet Pea’s excited snorts filled the room.

  “And how could she not?” Her gaze flitted from the beaming boy to his stunned-looking father. Did he feel the same spark she did? And was he as determined as she to ignore it? “It’s nice to see all of you again.”

  She smiled at Becca, who wore olive, knee-length shorts and a white T-shirt embellished with a glittering pink rose. “That’s a lovely French braid. I wish I knew how to do that.”

  The girl knelt beside Tommy and stroked the twisting tornado of canine love that was Sweet Pea. “I could teach you.”

  “That’d be great, Becca, thanks. My hair’s always such a mess by the end of the workday.” She lifted the heavy length from her shoulders and arched her stiff neck. Her eyes flitted to Eli and froze at his rapt attention. His gaze traveled over her like a physical caress.

  “You said we weren’t gonna see Christie.” Tommy’s fingers combed through Sweet Pea’s curls.

  “I didn’t think we were.” Eli’s thumbs rubbed across his closed lids before meeting above his nose.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she said quietly to Eli. “And I certainly understand if you’d like to reschedule. Joan tried to call you but—”

  “I know,” he said shortly. “I ignored the call when I was in a meeting and then afterward...” He trailed off, distracted.

  “This is the best thing that’s happened all day.” Becca gave Sweet Pea a belly rub then pointed to a jar of Hershey’s Kisses on Joan’s desk. “Can I have one? I’m—”

  “Hungry,” Tommy piped up. “You’re always hungry.” He picked up Sweet Pea and cradled her in his arms. She squirmed a bit but settled down. “Becca got in biiiiiig trouble today and had to go to jail.”

  “Did not,” Becca gasped. She rocked back on her heels as if slapped.

  Christie’s gaze flew to Eli. He gave her a slight headshake, but his worried expression made her wonder.

  Tommy jerked his chin. “Did too.”

  “It was detention.” Becca stomped to the window and crossed her arms. A flock of pigeons winged by the glass like a storm cloud.

  “Same thing. David said you’re a juvie.” Tommy turned big eyes Christie’s way. “What’s a juvie?”

  She patted his round cheek and hid her dismay with a smile. “We don’t use those kinds of words.”

  “Is it a bad one?” Tommy whispered in awed tones. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth.

  “Mean enough. And if you can’t say nice things then best to say nothing at all.” She sent Eli a meaningful look. His mouth twitched, amusement softening his stern face. She felt as if she were glowing like a lightning bug on a Kansas summer night.

  “Ever?” Tommy breathed, recapturing her attention. “That’s hard.”

  “Not when you set your mind to it.” She chucked him gently under his soft chin, her touch making the ticklish boy giggle. When she glanced up, she caught Eli’s unguarded stare, his face vulnerable for an instant. She quickly turned away, feeling as though she’d plundered a private thought. But not before she saw his expression harden once more.

  He spun on his heel and gathered Tommy’s book bag and Becca’s tote. “Let’s go, kids. We’ve taken up enough of Christie’s time. We’ll stop at the front desk to reschedule with Mrs. Osar for next week.”

  “Of course,” she concurred, though she didn’t agree at all now that she’d heard about Becca’s problems. And was it her imagination or did a flash of disappointment cross Eli’s set face at her words?

  He seemed determined to go, but they needed help, stat. Waiting a week or more for Joan’s schedule to clear might be too late to solve the Robertses’ crisis. A sudden need to help this family seized her. To make whole what illness had torn apart. Perhaps she could step in, smooth things over until they got their next appointment? Surely she could trust her heart that far. She yanked off her stethoscope and pocketed it. They needed her. As a health professional, that was all that really mattered.

  “Mrs. Luce wants a signed note from a counselor.” Becca spoke up, her head bent while her thumbs flew across her cell phone. “We can’t leave.”

  “Becca’s gonna get spelled.” Tommy put down Sweet Pea, who scrambled for the closed door and woofed. “Does she have to go potty? That’s what Scout does.”

  Eli took Tommy’s hand and gestured to Becca to join them. Becca dallied by the window, the late-afternoon sun burnishing the dark strands that matched her father’s hair.

  “I won’t get expelled.” She finished her text and pocketed her phone. “As long as we get a copy of a signed report today.”

  Christie scribbled on the progress report sheet in the chart and snapped it closed, a plan forming. She tossed it on Joan’s desk and grabbed Sweet Pea’s leash. Instantly, her pet whirled in yapping circles, knowing, before anyone else, what her master was about to propose.

  “Here’s an idea.” She attached Sweet Pea’s lead. Becca’s wary expression turned hopeful. Tommy shouldered his backpack and bounded forward. Eli shoved his hands in his pockets and peered at her through his long, dark lashes. She wished she had a restraint to control her leaping heart.

  “Let’s stop by your condo,” she said in a rush, getting out the words before she wished them back. “We’ll get Scout and head to Washington Square Park. It’s dog-park Thursday.”

  Eli blinked at her. “What?”

  Oops. Had she really said that out loud? She retied her double-knotted shoes to hide her burning face.

  Routines comforted her. To keep her life running on schedule she themed each day—manicure Mondays, home-shopping Tuesdays, baking Wednesdays...but only Gran and Laura, her roommate, knew her quirky secret. And now—of all people—Eli.

  “I mean I take Sweet Pea for a walk there after work on Thursdays.” She lifted her collar to cover the red splotches creeping up her neck. “We can meet the appointment time requirement I wrote in the chart and have some fun while we’re at it.”

  Tommy’s fist pumped like a New Jersey DJ as he stomped his feet, his sneakers blinking green and blue. “That’s where we play soccer. The park is close!”

  Eli remained still. Tense.

  Becca slid her flip-flops back on and joined the group, her expression pleading. “Dad. We need that note. Please?”

  His wary eyes met Christie’s.

  “I suppose. We wouldn’t be going too far.”

  Christie released a pent-up breath and crossed her fingers behind her back, fearing they had gone too far already.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELI SNEAKED A sideways glance at the lithe woman seated on the park bench beside him. After haunting his thoughts and dreams, she was here. Real. And more beautiful than he’d let himself imagine. Even in puppy scrubs. Especially in puppy scrubs. Her appeal was natural. Organic. Different than the artificial, overgroomed world he’d inhabited as a photographer.

  He inhaled Christie’s wildflower scent, the delicate fragrance perfuming the city’s exhaust-tain
ted air. The slanted afternoon sun gilded her auburn strands with fiery gold. She reminded him of a painting done by Parmigianino, a sixteenth-century Italian artist. Elegant, elongated lines and unstudied grace. If only he had his camera. He could capture her in color pixels, preserve this moment rather than let it, and her, slip away. But forever with Christie was an impossible wish.

  “The dogs are getting along well,” murmured Christie as she returned the waves of a group of smiling women seated on a nearby bench. Scout woofed and, in a dog version of leapfrog, bounded over Sweet Pea. Her compact body stretched across the dog park’s gray gravel, her white tail waving, her curved mouth meeting her tan ears. She was as eye-catching as her owner, her canine joy as infectious as Christie’s high spirits. He twisted Scout’s green leash and tried to rein in his awareness of the woman next to him. Down, boy.

  Helicopters of maple keys spun down from the trees ringing the wrought-iron gated area. He plucked one of the green whirligigs from her hair, his fingers unsteady as they brushed her silken cheek. Despite the lingering heat, he felt her shiver.

  “Are you cold?” Maybe she was coming down with something. Guilt churned his stomach. He shouldn’t have dragged her into this session—or his life. Bright light illuminated shadows under her eyes, the hollows of her translucent temples where a blue vein throbbed and the bones of her cheeks. Why hadn’t he noticed her exhaustion earlier? How selfish. It was kind of her to want to help. But he wouldn’t take advantage. “Would you like to head home?”

  She pierced him with faceted, emerald eyes. “Why don’t you fill me in on what happened at school today?”

  “Are you sure?” The news was eating him away inside, but just being here, doing something different with his kids, helped a little.

  Why didn’t he do stuff like this more often with Becca and Tommy? He could blame it on his demanding freelance graphic-design work, his need to sock away as much money as he could to ensure that his children were provided for, but that wasn’t the whole story. Not the true one, anyway.