by Karen Rock
“Fire away.” She smiled up at him. “Besides, Sweet Pea would stage a revolt if I dragged her home so soon. She really likes Scout.”
As Tommy hopped over the yelping dogs and Becca stood a short distance away, her thumbs whizzing across her cell phone, he gave in and recounted the day’s events. It was easier confiding in Christie than sharing with some unknown counselor. But then, they’d forged a bond during those terrifying moments working together to save John’s life.
A minute later, his voice stumbled into silence, the brief squeeze of her hand on his knee scattering his wits. Every nerve in his body screamed to life.
He slid down the bench away from her. It was difficult not to trace his fingers over her knee, pull her nearer. She reminded him of the china dolls in his grandmother’s hutch. As a boy, he’d wanted to take them out and create an intact, perfect family. Especially when his parents left for months on end.
But those dolls had been for looking, his grandmother had said, not touching. His eyes flitted to Christie. He needed to remember that lesson. He didn’t have the hutch’s thick glass to shut him out.
“So Becca still has a chance to pass eighth grade.” She offered him a ghost of a smile and stood. She grabbed a water hose, squirting the dogs and Tommy to their barking, hooting delight.
Eli put a hand in the stream to splash some of the water on his flushed face. “As long as she completes an independent health research project and some living-science labs.”
“And you continue to get counseling.” She lowered the hose and pinned him with a look. “Correct?”
Drummers began beating their instruments near a huge fountain beyond the dog park. He caught sight of a few brightly clad musicians surrounded by a cheering crowd. Trees wearing their brightest green rustled, making him feel that he was in another world, the city noise nearly blotted out. Too bad his problems wouldn’t disappear as easily. When he swallowed, his mouth felt as if it were coated with sand.
“Right. I’ll call the center tomorrow to reschedule with Mrs. Osar. That’ll take care of that part of the deal.”
“Becca! Play with me!” hollered Tommy. But his sister ignored him, her dark hair obscuring her face as she continued texting. “Daddy, Becca won’t play with me.” Tommy jogged up to him, his eyes pleading.
“Will I do?” Eli replied, propelling himself to his feet and joining his son. Tommy’s blond locks flopped at his vigorous nod. They’d brought a Frisbee from home, and Tommy tossed it to Eli, who chucked it far across the wide space for Sweet Pea and Scout.
Becca and Tommy had always been so tight, he mused. He patted a triumphant Scout, who’d returned with the saliva-coated toy, leaving a snorting Sweat Pea behind. He flicked it in the air again, giving Sweet Pea the advantage, and glanced at Becca. Why was she pulling away from Tommy, too?
An elderly man walking a Jack Russell terrier paused to greet Christie. Her megawatt smile made the man straighten his stooped posture and tip a plaid hat. He held out an elaborately carved cane for her to admire.
While she oohed and aahed, Eli glanced around the park. How many people did she know here? Quite a few were staring and nodding their way. If she came at the same time on the same day, it was possible they did, too. Had they formed some kind of clique, a family related by pets?
He followed her back to the bench, where a homeless man now lay, a scruffy mutt seated on the ground beside him. His leathery face creased when Christie passed him the loaf of bread they’d brought for the pigeons, along with some dog treats.
“There’s clean water in the hose if you need to wash up,” she said gently as she knelt beside him. Eli breathed through his mouth, the stench of unwashed flesh, cheap whiskey and garbage seeming to have no effect on Christie. “Would you like some help?”
His mouth dropped. He felt for the homeless as much as any. Donated lots to charity. But to see her interact with this guy suddenly made him think he’d never done much.
As she helped the staggering man to his feet, Eli grabbed for his thick coat, incongruous in the heat. The grimy fabric nearly slipped through his hands, but he held on. He wouldn’t let her handle this alone. Not that he doubted she could. Her strength never ceased to amaze him. What a woman.
“Yo, hobo,” called a slouching teenage boy in pants buckled at the tops of his thighs. “Crawl back to the trash can where you belong.” Three similarly dressed youths fist bumped and laughed. All carried skateboards. What were these punks doing in a dog park? He stepped forward.
“Ahhhh!” They stumbled back when a spray of water hit them.
“Sorry,” Christie gushed as she quickly tossed aside the hose and gave Eli a tiny sideways smile, which he returned. “Guess it must have slipped.” Her mischievous eyes danced. She really was something.
“What are you doing?” demanded a scowling Becca. She marched over, stopping near the soaked teens. “Are you okay, Colton?”
One of the boys plucked at the shoulders of his soaked T-shirt and smirked Becca’s way. “Hey. No worries, mama. How you like my new kicks?”
Mama? Kicks? And who the heck was Colton? Eli’s simmering blood started to boil. Why was this sleazeball talking to his thirteen-year-old? He looked older. Not out of high school. But close.
A soft hand gripped his rigid biceps. Christie’s breath whispered against his earlobe, making him tense for a completely different reason. “Don’t overreact. You’ll drive Becca away. She’s a big girl.”
How much more distant could things get? He glanced from Becca’s lovesick expression to the preening doofus with his boxers hanging out of his jeans. Then again, he didn’t want to drive her into this jerk’s arms. Maybe Christie had a point. She was the expert.
He forced himself to extend a hand. “I’m Becca’s father, Mr. Roberts. And you are?”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Becca blurted. Her face turned red when the boys broke into loud guffaws. One shoved Colton, who shook his head and glared. The homeless man made a rude gesture to the boys and picked up the hose, dousing his pet. The mixed breed’s black-spotted tongue lapped water from the air like a child catching snowflakes.
Eli felt the world recede and hit him in the face at the same time. Becca? Dating?
“What about Lindsay?” asked another boy wearing quarter-sized spacers in his earlobes. When he flicked off Colton’s hat, Scout snatched it and launched into a tug-of-war with Sweet Pea.
A third friend pointed at the growling dogs. “Or Alicia? She got curls like that dog.”
“Thought you said your girl was Megan.” A group member plucked Colton’s cell from his oversized pocket and held it up. The display revealed a girl posed in a skimpy bikini. Colton grabbed the phone back and powered it down.
Becca turned on her heel, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Eli wanted to crush those quaking shoulders to his chest and tell her Daddy would fix it. Make everything right. But Christie’s silent message—that Becca wasn’t his little girl anymore—made him stay still. The idea that his daughter’s problems were bigger than he could instantly repair made him pause.
“Jerks,” Colton hissed. He ripped his hat from a snapping Scout, put it on sideways and chased after Becca. The rest of his friends headed out the gate, forgetting to shut it behind them.
“Sweet Pea!” Christie called when the little dog lunged at Colton’s ankle. Scout growled, the gold hairs on the scruff of his neck standing up.
“Get him!” Tommy cheered. He ruffled Sweet Pea’s frizzing curls before racing to the entranceway.
Eli’s gaze jumped from Becca to Tommy. Tommy was a wanderer. Would he bolt through the gate rather than shut it? Then again, Becca was in the midst of a tween life crisis. Would she and Colton fight? Just when he thought he had a handle on the single-dad thing, his hardwired life short-circuited. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. What he needed was a wingman
. His eyes darted to Christie. Or wingwoman. With a last look at Becca, he caught up to his wayward son and marched him back.
When he returned, Christie held her wriggling dog. “What on earth got into you?” she asked in a stern voice. Sweet Pea’s long ears lowered farther, her brown eyes bulging. “We never bite. Not even as a threat. Keep this up and it’s no more play therapy for you.” After a long stare, she lowered a subdued Sweet Pea. Her tiny paws nearly disappeared in the gray gravel.
“Now play nice,” she said with a behind-the-ear scratch that got Sweet Pea’s tail wagging once more. She turned back to the hose. “I’m sorry about those boys, sir—” Her voice trailed off. Eli followed her swiveling head but couldn’t locate the homeless man or his mangy pet. “Darn,” she muttered.
“Tell me about it.” He nodded to an animated Becca and a sullen Colton. His fingernails dug into his palms as the creep touched Becca’s braid. Touched her. The thought of that idiot anywhere near his daughter made him want to—
“Stop,” said Christie as though reading his mind. “Give Becca a chance to handle this. She’s stronger than you think and dealing with a lot.”
He winced and forced himself to look away, sidestepping when Tommy rushed by, the yapping dogs on his heels. What else was going on in his daughter’s life? Up until now, he’d thought school and dance were it. After today, he didn’t know what to believe.
He blinked at Becca’s now-smiling face. She should be furious with the two-timer. He sure was. She wouldn’t fall for a phony like that...would she? Then again, hadn’t he made that mistake once, too? At least he’d gotten Tommy and Becca from his train wreck of a marriage. And he’d do it all over again to have them in his life. No matter what, he wouldn’t regret a moment that led to his amazing kids.
He took an involuntary step forward. A flock of birds rose, cawing, to some nearby trees. How could he make her see how wrong this guy was for her? Times like this made him wish Becca had a mother to turn to. Their father–daughter relationship was strained already. How much pressure could it take before it broke altogether?
“Laters,” Colton called as he swaggered by Eli and joined his skateboarding friends on the cement path beyond the dog park. Like them, he left the gate open. But Becca dashed over to close it. She trailed after him along the metal fence like a lost puppy.
“Colton!” She waved her cell at him. The universal “call me” sign.
The kid gave her a noncommittal shrug and wandered away. A girl resembling the one on Colton’s phone materialized and joined the group as they headed for the fountain. It made Eli ache to see Becca’s stiff back and fisting hands. He straightened his shoulders. This joker was not dating his daughter, and that was the end of it.
He was charging forward to set Becca straight when a sanitation worker in a green uniform stepped in front of him to scoop up another dog’s mess.
“Eli,” Christie said. Something in her tone, the way she said his name, the rounding and softening of the vowels, made the tension inside lighten. She pulled at a delicate silver chain from which hung a single shamrock charm.
“May I speak to Becca? Woman to woman? Help her put things into perspective.”
For a moment he bristled at the thought of another person assuming they knew better than he how to handle his daughter. But then again, hadn’t today taught him that he’d lost touch? Perhaps she had the answers—even if they could double for Hallmark cards.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied Becca. She leaned against a tree and frowned down at her cell, looking every bit as lost as he felt. His lungs deflated. He had to do what was best for his kid. And as painful as it was to admit...right now...that wasn’t him.
“Sure. I’ll hang out with Tommy,” he forced himself to say. “Thanks, Christie. If you can help her, it would mean the world to me. To all of us.”
CHAPTER SIX
NO PRESSURE, CHRISTIE THOUGHT, as she headed Becca’s way. Just the fate of the entire Roberts family resting on her shoulders.
The girl glanced up at her approach and shoved her phone into her pocket.
“Want to go to the Shake Shack with me?” Christie asked. The food vendor was on the southeast corner of the park, far enough away to let Becca feel safe about opening up without fearing her father might overhear. Speaking of whom...she narrowed her eyes at a staring Eli until he turned and whipped the Frisbee after Tommy and the dogs.
Becca’s thin shoulders lifted and fell. “Sure. I’m not really hungry, though.”
They closed the gate to the dog area behind them and headed down a treelined walkway toward the southern fountain. In-line-skating New Yorkers whooshed by them, outpaced by determined mothers jogging behind ergonomically designed strollers.
“What? You’re not hungry?” She shook her head and looked up at the blue sky. “Impossible. The world must be coming to an end.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “And I want to live.”
Becca made a snuffling laughing-through-tears sound as they passed a man on a woven blanket strumming an acoustic guitar. “Sometimes it feels that way. Like the world ending.”
“It can seem like that at times,” Christie agreed, leaving it at that. “Patience, Not Pushing” was her motto and it usually paid off. She plucked a fragrant pink bloom from an almost-bare azalea bush and passed it to Becca.
After pulling off a few petals, the girl dropped the flower. “He loves me not,” she said, her voice barely audible.
Christie tucked a loose strand into Becca’s French braid. “How could he not?” She didn’t pretend not to know whom Becca meant.
They stopped beside a midsized fountain enclosed by an iron railing. Tourists snapped pictures of the water sculpture on its brass base, posing beside urns bursting with flowers and greenery.
The steady stream of gushing water swallowed the city’s cacophony. If only it would settle her chaotic nerves. Becca stared at the clear liquid as it dripped from the top urn to the middle before splashing to the large bottom tier. Christie closed her eyes and leaned toward the faint, rising mist.
Without turning, Becca pulled out her cell phone and passed it to her.
“Are you sure?” Sometimes patients acted impulsively then withdrew if they felt they’d revealed too much. Better to let Becca set the pace.
“Yeah. It’s a text from Colton. After he left the park.”
“‘Leave me alone, b—’” Christie read aloud then stopped. “Oh. I see what you mean.” She handed back the phone. What a jerk. Now she felt like Eli. Ready to strangle the kid. But she kept her expression neutral.
“I know. Right?” Becca turned and leaned against the metal enclosure.
Christie joined her at the rail. “So how do you feel about that?”
A short burst of air escaped Becca. “Like I could strangle him.”
Christie stayed mum and watched the swirling water, sensing that Becca needed to say more. But it had to be voluntary.
After a couple of minutes, Becca faced her. “I think he’s cheating on me.” Her anguished blue eyes met Christie’s.
“Does it matter?”
Becca blinked, her lips parting in surprise. “You think it’s okay for him to see someone else? He’s my first.”
Her heart began to pound. Oh, goodness. This was about to get major. She hid her growing dismay and said, “Firsts are important.”
“Exactly.” Becca began to pace, scattering pigeons with every footfall. “I thought my first kiss would be with someone who loved me. So, yeah. It matters.”
Christie released a pent-up breath. Thank heavens. “I agree. What I meant is could there be an even larger issue? Something worse?”
Becca pulled out her vibrating phone. “What could be worse?”
“How does he make you feel?”
Becca’s eyes slid from left
to right as she scanned the screen. “Right now...terrible.”
The man on the acoustic guitar had followed them and was now strumming a ’60s folk tune under a towering elm tree.
She fished out a couple of dollar bills and dropped them in his empty case. “Just right now?” She caught Becca’s eye. “Sometimes? Or most of the time?”
Becca bit her lip and stared at her flip-flops, her cheeks white. Finally, she said, “Most of the time.”
Christie put an arm around her and guided her toward the Shake Shack. Sometimes the best way to deal with a breakthrough was not to make a fuss over it, let it settle into the patient’s psyche until they felt comfortable with the revelation.
The smell of fried onions and greasy burgers permeated the air. Becca’s stomach grumbled audibly.
“Still not hungry?” Christie teased. Thank goodness the line was short. Sometimes it wrapped around the table-filled area.
Becca laughed. “Maybe a little. But I don’t have any money.”
Christie patted her pocket. “It’s on me. Order what you like.”
“Okay. But next time’s on me.” When Becca stepped up to the counter, Christie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Had she encouraged Becca to think there would be a next time? Managing children’s expectations had never cured her of her desire to see their every wish fulfilled, to hope that what they wanted, no matter how seemingly impossible, could happen. It was a matter of faith, something that, after her years as a grief counselor, had only strengthened.
“I’ll have a Shack Burger, a peanut butter shake, cheese fries and a Frisky Dog, hold the kraut.” She pivoted toward Christie. “What would you like and can we get a Bag O’ Bones for Scout and Sweet Pea?”
She nodded, feeling awed, as she always did, by the fearsome appetites of teenagers. She pulled out her wallet after the man behind the counter called back their order.
“Sorry I can’t pay,” Becca told her then sucked in a harsh breath. Christie followed her gaze to the couple mashed against each other at a far table. It was Colton and another girl. What bad luck.