A Family to Cherish

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Stop. Now.

  He whacked himself upside the head internally, turned and headed for the stairs. “Gotta get busy. The Monroes are keeping the girls until six, so I’ve got solid work time. Don’t want to mess with that.”

  “No.” She smiled his way, and he wondered if she had any idea what that meant to him. Her support, her acceptance. For some reason, it mattered. A lot. But despite Meredith’s promises to stay, she’d only been back a few months and Cam couldn’t deny the thought that if the going got tough, Meredith might head for the hills. Sure, she was older. More mature. And still gorgeous.

  That indiscriminate thought made him both grin and grimace as he descended the stairs.

  But he had two little girls who didn’t need or want more heartache. He’d made a promise to himself that their lives would be rock-solid. Full. Vibrant. Letting them get too attached to Meredith could be a big mistake.

  But that smile…

  * * *

  Meredith appeared at the porch door several hours later. She had coffee in one hand and a box in the other. “Danish and fry pies from Seb Walker’s place. Mom and I stopped this morning after church.”

  Cam didn’t hesitate. “And you waited until now to tell me they were here?”

  She proffered the box and took a seat on a board slung across two five-gallon buckets. “Didn’t want to interrupt your work, but since Sunday afternoon dinner time has come and gone, these kept calling my name.”

  “Delicious.” He reached for a pastry as she did. Their knuckles bumped. Then paused. Then bumped again, right before his fingers twined around hers. “Mere.”

  She kept her gaze trained on their interlocked hands. “They fit.”

  “Always did.”

  A tiny smile curved her left cheek up. “But then we grew up, Cam.”

  He squeezed her fingers lightly. “And we stayed grown-up.”

  “But grown-up means we have a past,” she told him. Her words didn’t say as much as her lifted gaze, the sorrow he read behind those dark blue irises.

  “And a present and a future,” he shot back. He grabbed a cheese-filled Italian pastry, tested the propped board for weight, then sat down next to her. “Everyone’s got a past, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And we’re working together in the present, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I suggest we take this day by day, interspersed with the more-than-occasional kiss and see where it leads.” He leaned over and feathered a gentle touch to her mouth with his lips, the combination of sweet cheese and fresh coffee delightful. “Because I like kissing you, Mere. A lot.”

  She sat back and shot him a bemused look. “Me, too. Which can only mean one thing, Cam.”

  “We kiss more and see where this leads us?” He grinned, and resolved to ignore the warning flashes exploding in his head. Yes, falling for Meredith would be risky. But since he’d survived once, maybe he could do it again.

  But the girls, his conscience implored. What about the girls? Didn’t you just go through, step by step, the reasons to avoid Meredith Brennan?

  He had, he decided as his lips resettled on hers. But somehow, when he was in her presence, all rational thought managed to fly out the window. And the fact that she returned the kiss…it meant she wasn’t nearly as staunch and stalwart as she pretended to be, and he liked that. A lot.

  The sound of a car engine interrupted them.

  “The girls are here.”

  Meredith sat back, a frown marring the classic lines of her face. “Yes.”

  “Mere.”

  “Cam.” She stood, straightened, and sent him a look that wounded. Or was the look itself wounded? He wasn’t sure, but knew one thing. Something pained her. Bothered her. Old wrongs? Secrets? There’d been so many back in the day, with Neal Brennan’s tomcat-prowling making tongues wag, including his mother’s. And she’d been sensitive to it. Overly, maybe, but then how could he say? No one used his family as gossip fodder. And he was a man. Maybe that stuff sat different with women.

  “Hey, Dad! Meredith! We had so much fun with Ellie and Isaac!”

  Cam caught Rachel in a hug. Sophie followed more slowly, a clear sign that something was wrong. “What’s up, Soph?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No?”

  He and Mere bent in unison. Mere took the little girl’s hand and Cam laid his cool palm against a very hot brow. “You’ve got a fever, honey.”

  “Do I?”

  She peered at him glassy-eyed and he felt that old familiar clutch to his gut, the one that reminded him of finding Kristy cold and lifeless on the living room couch. That stark image was forever burned in his brain, epitaphed by his self-concern.

  He hated the man he was back then.

  He wasn’t all that pleased with himself now.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s get you home. Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come right over and picked you up.”

  “I didn’t know,” she told him honestly. “I thought I was just tired. And I was worried about Sally the kitten, and that made me sad.”

  The kitten. Cam slammed himself internally. He’d promised her he’d take time to hunt for the tiny cat, and then he’d gotten tied up in work and forgot. What kind of a lame father was he?

  “That happens.” Mere leaned down and feathered a kiss to her brow, then grasped Rachel’s hand. “I’ll walk out with Rachel and you bring Sophie. And I’ll clean up in there.” She wagged her head toward the side porch.

  “I’ll put the tools away. They’re heavy.”

  “You’ll take your precious daughter home and tuck her in with some ibuprofen, hot lemonade and a story.” She gave the order lightly, but Cam read the no-nonsense look in her eye. “Matt’s coming by in an hour and I’ll have him put the heavy stuff back in the kitchen area. Okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I—”

  She touched the back of his hand, a whisper of a touch, but enough. Just enough to make him feel less alone. Less guilty. Less laden. “I’ll be praying that this virus is a quick twenty-four-hour thing and she’s good as new by morning.”

  She’d be praying. For him. For Sophie.

  People had offered him prayers for years, from every local denomination. He’d smiled politely, thanked them and moved on, knowing what God knew: he’d neglected to take care of his wife.

  But when Mere uttered those words, promising her petition…something warm and flowing stirred inside him again, like a rusted iron faucet being urged back to life, the tiny trickle of water a good sign.

  “Goodbye, honey.” She leaned in and gave Rachel a quick kiss and then squeezed Sophie’s hand. “Bless you, darling. Get well quick, okay?”

  “I will, Mere.”

  Sophie’s tiny reply pushed Cam home quickly. The girls had been sick before. His head knew that childhood illness came on in a flash and could leave just as quickly.

  But his heart went a little stale each time. He couldn’t afford to be cool and casual about things like fevers and congestion, no matter what his head said, because his heart couldn’t possibly bear another mistake.

  Chapter Ten

  Meredith called Cam first thing the next morning, realized she’d woken him and almost felt bad. But not quite. “How’s she doing?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Meredith. Stop messing with me, Cam. How’s Sophie?”

  She heard him yawn and imagined him stretching, then immediately tried to wipe that image from her mind.

  Too late.

  “Sleeping right now. Like I was.”

  “Sorry.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be. I’ve got to get Rachel on the bus in forty-five minutes so I had to get up
anyway.”

  “And Rachel’s fine so far?”

  “No sign of it yet, but that means she’ll probably get sick later in the week.”

  “And you’re staying home with Sophie?”

  “Of course.”

  His tone went too sharp for her liking, sick kid or not. “Don’t bark at me. I was just asking. Heather and I are working at the spa today and they’re starting the bathroom tear-out tomorrow, so if you need me to watch her tomorrow, that would be fine. Mom would be there, too, and between the two of us, we could probably manage one nine-year-old. Then you can go to work.”

  “I’ve got it, thanks.”

  “Okay.” His tight tone niggled more than the words. “Give her my best and if you need anything—”

  “We’re good, but I appreciate the offer.”

  Sure he did. Like Florida appreciates a Category Four hurricane warning. She hung up, wondering what that was all about. One minute he was kissing her, the next he was shouldering her aside, blocking her offers of help.

  Whatever.

  She’d headed for Stillwaters without her second cup of coffee, so when she swung into the parking lot at Heather’s place she was more than a little out of sorts. She’d decided to stay away from Cam and it had worked for over a week. Why had she let down her reserve yesterday? Was she a glutton for punishment? Obviously so.

  His quick dismissal had put her firmly in her place, which was right where she should be, avoiding him and entanglements with those two little girls at all costs.

  Jerk.

  “You need coffee, and you need it bad.” Heather made the observation as she tied a bandanna around her head to protect her hair from paint mist. They were rolling the bedroom ceilings at the Senator’s Mansion today, a shoulder-numbing job, and even with the protective roller covers, some paint mist would fill the air.

  “Thank you for noticing.” Meredith grabbed the pot, filled her cup, laced it with sugar and chocolate/coconut creamer, stirred, sniffed and tasted. “Perfect. You may have just saved someone’s life. Good job, Heather.”

  “Cam’s, I presume.”

  Meredith shot her a dark look.

  Heather laughed. “Hard to maintain your distance, huh? Obey your own edicts?”

  “I did fine until yesterday. Then I messed up. But I’ve been reminded that I need to stay on my side of the great divide. The man’s got some kind of ax to grind and I don’t intend to be the target.”

  “Cam?” Heather frowned. “Cam Calhoun is about the most patient, easygoing guy I’ve ever met. What did you do to him?”

  Mere arched forward in pretend anger. “That’s just it. Not a thing. Not one blessed thing. There we were, eating pastries and kissing, and the next thing I know Sophie’s sick and he turns into the dragon-master.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, what? Like, that’s normal? Like, that’s something? Because it’s not,” Meredith expounded. “Kids get sick all the time, it’s not exactly life-threatening, right?”

  Heather grimaced. “His wife died of pneumonia. Right there at home. She went to sleep one night and never woke up. They thought it was a bad cold. A rhinovirus that was going around, but it took a bad turn in Kristy. So he’s a little sensitive, I bet. Possibly bordering on neurotic.”

  That image caught Meredith up short. “Pneumonia? In this day and age?”

  Heather nodded, sympathetic. “Weird things happen. I guess she’d had a problem when she was little, and her lungs just couldn’t fight it off. And like I said, they thought it was just a cold. Rachel was a toddler and Sophie was in preschool and Cam was teaching and doing his restoration work on the side. Crazy busy, trying to make ends meet. Like most young families.”

  “So when the kids get sick…”

  “It most likely drums up a whole lot of bad memories.”

  Of course it would. She envisioned Cam finding his wife deceased, the pain and the horror of that, his inability to help or spin back the hands of time. Then the daily reality of raising two little girls alone.

  “I’ll cut him some slack. I had no idea.”

  Heather shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it. Ever. But he does a great job with those girls. And his work is beyond comparison.”

  Meredith thought of the long stretch of cabinetry he’d installed yesterday. The steady hum of his saw. The precision-pumping of his drill as he applied holding screws. The knowledge that he was there, working, doing his best to make her dream come true.

  He did do his best. She grabbed a to-go top for her coffee and headed for the door. “I’ll take my angst out on the ceilings. And bring some ibuprofen. By tonight, we’re going to need it.”

  “Not as much as you might think.”

  “No?” Meredith turned back.

  Heather’s expression said, “I know something you don’t know.” “I’ve got a plan. A wise woman always goes into a new venture with a plan.”

  “Is it legal? Please say yes.”

  Heather laughed out loud and climbed into Meredith’s car. “Yes. But nothing this wonderful should be legal, because it’s positively habit-forming. In a good way,” she added, noting Meredith’s mock scowl.

  “Tell me you’ve got ibuprofen in your purse, just in case.”

  “I do.”

  “Then bring it on, Heather.” Meredith popped the car into Drive and headed for the spa. “Whatever you’ve got, because by the end of the day, after four nine-foot ceilings, we’re going to be in some righteous pain.”

  “I hear ya.”

  * * *

  Meredith felt wonderful and it was all Heather’s fault. And when she could remove herself from the cloud of bliss surrounding her now, she’d say so. But she managed to mumble two little words that paused the hands massaging the soreness out of her tired shoulders and upper back. “You’re hired.”

  “I thought that might be the case.” CeeCee Cummings kept her voice low, the way a good massage therapist should. “You don’t want to see my credentials? My letters of recommendation? My police record?”

  At the moment, Meredith didn’t care if CeeCee was Attila the Hun and had transported herself through a time portal buried on Dunnymeade Hill. She had magic hands and the fire that had consumed Meredith’s upper body couldn’t even be classified as a low flame now.

  Reason enough right there to hire this woman. “Are you a convict?”

  CeeCee didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  “Are you licensed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you overpriced?”

  “Most assuredly.”

  “But worth every penny,” Heather stressed as she bagged up the used rollers and headed for the door. “I’m putting the garbage out. Pickup is tomorrow.”

  “I don’t care. I’m sleepy.” Thirty minutes ago she’d been in pain and totally jacked on caffeine. Now? Ready for a good night’s sleep right here on the floor.

  CeeCee finished her left shoulder and sat back. Meredith propped one eye open, saw the honey-skinned woman’s grin of assessment, then eased herself to a sitting position. “There are applications on the table inside the door.”

  “Done. Heather brought one to me yesterday.”

  “Awesome. Availability?”

  A shadow darkened the pretty woman’s eyes. “Whenever you need me. I’m on my own. No clock to answer to except a couple of adjustable lab shifts.”

  The time frame pleased Meredith, but she felt a stab of empathy for whatever caused the shadow. “Wonderful. I’m not sure what our need will be at this point. Where are you working now?”

  “From home for the massage therapy. I do two shifts in the lab at the professional building adjacent to Jones Memorial Hospital. That keeps my benefits in place.”

  “What do you—”

  CeeC
ee answered without waiting for the full question. “I draw blood. It keeps me in the medical game, requires little thought and no one dies.”

  Meredith’s heart opened further. She’d respect CeeCee’s privacy, but she understood tough, deep-seated emotion. “I hear you. So—” she rolled her shoulders and smiled at how much better they felt “—first, you’re amazing. Second, yes, you really are hired unless you do have a record.”

  “I do not.”

  “Excellent.” Meredith stood. “Third, if you have any preferences for your massage rooms, let me know.”

  “As in?”

  “Equipment, lighting, setting.”

  “Soft light, relaxing music, ocean-waves soundtrack, warm tones.”

  Meredith laughed and clapped her on the back. “Done. And there will be a tea and juice service set up in the spa area. And the overseer will have video feed of the spa side at all times. She’ll change the sheets, clean everything, service the beverages, maintain the lounge area and sweet-talk the customers that need it.”

  “It sounds wonderful. Thank you, Meredith.” CeeCee offered her hand. “I’m grateful.”

  Meredith raised a hand to the back of her neck and smiled. “Me, too. I’ll be in touch. We’ve got a couple of months yet, so…”

  “I’ll let my client base know.” CeeCee met Meredith’s look head-on. “Once I’m here, I won’t freelance any longer.”

  Talk about a leap of faith. “CeeCee, I appreciate that, but I’m sure you’ve got bills to pay.”

  “Don’t we all?” CeeCee hiked her purse higher on her shoulder. “But when someone gives you a hand up, I consider it bad manners to bite that hand.”

  “I love how you think.”

  The therapist settled a soft smile on Mere, and Mere realized she was younger than she first appeared. With old eyes. Knowing eyes. Eyes that saw too much. She reached out and gave the other woman an impulsive hug, and Meredith Brennan was not inclined to random hugging. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”