I briefly considered her gesture. “Seriously, what am I going to do with a dog?”
Chloe unlatched the crate door before I could stop her.
Bones scurried out, jumped on Chloe, and knocked her down. As I bent down to grab him, he plopped down in front of me. His butt went up into the air as his tail wagged to and fro nonchalantly. With one hand on his collar, I spoke gently to him. “Hi, Bones, let’s get you back into the crate.” After a brief moment of retreat, Bones jumped up and knocked me backward, too.
Chloe got up. “This is fun. You should have gotten a dog a long time ago.” She grabbed for Bones’ hindquarters, which sent him bolting down the stairs.
“I’ll get him,” Chloe shouted, skipping in his tracks.
I pushed myself up. “Geez.” I rushed inside to the fridge to grab some lunchmeat. I let the screen door slam behind me as I ran back outside. Mom would kill me if something happened to that dog. I imagined the lecture. You had the poor creature for less than ten minutes and look what happened. “Yeah, look what happened, Mother, the dog is dead, Bradley is far away, doing God-knows-what, and I’ve made Beckett gay.” I caught myself as I tripped down the stairs and into the yard. I checked the bushes. No dog, no Chloe. They were nowhere in sight, so I headed next door to Chloe’s house.
Panic swept over me. “Great, now I’m going to be responsible for losing both of them. Damn that Nanny Nora.”
“Excuse me,” a rickety female voice said from somewhere behind me.
I spun around, swallowed, and prepared for battle. “What?”
An older woman with bobbed gray hair cleared her throat and stared at me with narrowed blue eyes. “Excuse me,” she said even louder. “I am Nanny Nora.”
I sized up the haughty woman before me. Chloe was right, Nanny Nora resembled a guinea pig with beady eyes. “What?” I figured if I kept saying “What?” she’d give up. I continued to scan the premises for the escapees.
Nora put her hands on her hips.
Warning myself that this was not going to be good, I stepped closer to her. “Seriously, would it kill you to keep a closer eye on Chloe?” The sound of laughter erupted behind my house. With my back to Nora, I disregarded her presence and entered my yard, then shut the gate behind me. Nora unlatched the gate and appeared thoroughly disgusted. I rushed behind her and shut the gate hoping she would infer my aggravation with the loud slam.
“Excuse me,” I said to her, ignoring her steamy glare. My patience faded into the stagnant summer air. Relief washed over me when I saw Chloe lying in my lounge chair stroking Bones’ head.
“Excuse me,” Nora said, “But who do you think you are?”
I stepped closer to her, accepting the challenge. We stood eye-to-eye. She was on my turf now. “What do you mean ‘excuse me?’ You are being paid to watch this little girl. She is over here most of the time. I have never met you. You have never come over to meet me. I’m not sure you are Nanny Nora. Do you have identification?”
“We’ll see what Mr. McIntyre has to say about this.” Nora opened the gate and left in a huff.
I shut the gate behind her, waiting for her to return to retrieve Chloe, but she never did. I witnessed Chloe pulling a Cesar Millan by exuding sheer calmness to the escapee.
“How did you get him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I didn’t get him. He got me. I ran back here and he chased me. Pretty smart, huh?”
I plopped down in the chair beside her and patted Bones’ thick head. His dark eyes shimmered with innocence. He gobbled up the lunchmeat and licked my hand. My mother had a lot of questions to answer. “Yeah, pretty smart.” I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and lifted my chin to the sun. There was something about just feeling the warmth on my face.
“That was pretty good how you handled Nora,” Chloe said.
“I’m not so sure I did handle it.” Fact was, I was tired of handling things. I was tired of being rational, but I wasn’t sure that validated poor behavior. “I’m sure your dad will have something to say about it.”
Chloe smiled. “No matter what he says, I’m on your side.” She scratched Bones’ ears and nuzzled her face against his sagging jowls.
“Thanks, I’ll remember that.” The sun’s warmth calmed me.
“Will you teach me to read better?” Chloe asked under her breath.
I swallowed away the trepidation, choosing not to answer. I was on summer vacation, a time to heal from a year of sickness and letdowns. First, it was losing out on the promotion. Then, Beckett and his grand news followed by the ‘C’ word. I still couldn’t say it, even to myself.
Chloe sighed. “It’s okay.”
I felt myself relenting. Chloe’s eyes held the same carefree, yet sad intensity of the dog on her lap. My mind swirled. My gut twitched as I tried to ignore the moral dilemma.
“You’re not gonna swear, are you?” Chloe paused, covering the dog’s ears, and squinted with silent warning.
Biting my tongue, I said the naughty words in my head instead. “No,” I grunted. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” I kicked off my sandals and put my feet up.
“It doesn’t have to be. Look at me. When it hurts, just shake it off. I learned plenty from having a footloose and fancy-free mom.”
“How can I turn you down, kid?” My breast throbbed. They told me that was common when scar tissue formed. I rubbed my collarbone then closed my eyes wishing for summer to last for the rest of my life.
“You okay?” Chloe asked.
I stared across the yard, the stillness freezing the world around me like a surreal dream. “Yes,” I replied. “Why?” I scolded myself for asking. It’s never a good thing to ask “Why?” to a seven-year-old. They have a habit of telling the truth about their observations, which in turn can be brutal. A seven-year-old can make you question your very existence in a split second.
“You really want to ask me that?” Chloe replied with a squeaky voice.
“Sure, what have I got to lose?”
Chloe laughed. “That’s more like it. Well—” She paused. “First of all you seem awfully annoyed when I show up.” She paused again to wrinkle her nose. “You sure you want my opinion?”
“Here’s your chance, kid, let me have it,” I replied. “Obviously, my mother thinks I need to learn a lesson or that cute doggy wouldn’t be sitting in your lap right now.”
“Maybe she just thinks you need a dog,” Chloe said with a shrug.
I imagined Chloe smoking a cigarette while drinking beer. “Yup, I’ve heard that.” I wondered if that philosophy applied to neighbors, children, meddling mothers, and ex-husbands.
“Anyway, you seem annoyed with anyone who shows up here. We just come here cause we like you. Is there something terrible about that?”
“Crap,” I murmured with a heavy sigh. Chloe wrinkled her nose in disgust then covered Bones’ ears. “Did my mother pay you to say that, too?”
Chloe cleared her throat and patted my hand. “Give me a little credit, why don’t you. Now what about this reading thing? Can you help me out or not?”
Chapter 14
The porch swing lulled me into a daydream. When John approached, fantasyland quickly came to a halt. “I’ve been expecting you,” I said, not without noticing his brown trousers, white button-down shirt, and Sponge Bob Square Pants necktie. “Nice tie,” I joked.
“Nice attitude,” he retorted as he loosened the knot at the top of the silk blue tie just above Krabby Patty’s head.
“You know Krabby looks like one of those things that dangles at the back of your throat.”
“You mean a tonsil?” he asked, his tone ruffled.
“Guess so, but that’s what happens when you hang around seven-year-olds most of the time.” I pushed the hair away from my face. I liked the way the evening light highlighted the crow’s feet at the corners of his weary eyes. “So, I suppose you got an ear full from Nanny Nora.”
John cleared his throat and held my gaze
. “Got any beer?”
“Must be worse than I thought.” As I got up, his eyes brushed against my exposed collarbone. I quickly put the straps of my tank top back in place. A chill ran up my spine. “Follow me.” I slipped on my sandals and invited him inside. “Where’s Chloe?”
“At a friend’s house,” John replied.
“That’s good, she’s making friends.” I shrugged as he raised his eyebrow. “Really, that’s good. She needs to be hanging out with kids her own age.” I rolled my stiff shoulders in small circles, thinking about Chloe’s advice. It didn’t feel natural. “I need to practice,” I coached myself.
“What do you need to practice?” John asked.
I took two Miller Lites out of the fridge and turned in John’s direction. The top button on his shirt was undone. His tie was in a wad on the counter, and somewhere between here and the porch he’d rolled up his sleeves. His forearm flexed as he twisted off the top. I pondered his horseshoe tattoo that lingered beneath his shirt. John put his bottle on the counter, took the second bottle from my hand, twisted off the cap, then handed it back to me. He picked up his beer, tilted it in my direction, and said, “Can’t drink without a toast.”
I tilted my beer bottle in John’s direction stumped by his lack of words. Didn’t seem to be a problem earlier. “Cheers,” I said, clanking my bottle against his.
“Here’s to finding a new nanny,” he added.
I stopped mid-swig to swallow hard. “Oh crap,” I said, rolling my eyes. My gut twisted.
John pulled out a stool and made himself at home. “I have tomorrow covered, but after that, not sure what I’m gonna do.”
The pit in my stomach grew as his eyes searched mine for a solution. I took a long draw of ice-cold beer, which soothed my nerves and the brewing hot flash. I put my bottle on the counter and watched John tip it to inspect the contents. “What?” I sheepishly asked.
“This is going well. I figured this would work better than putting you on the spot.”
I picked up the Miller Lite and took another long swig. The cold beer was the best thing I’d tasted in a long time. It masked the metallic twang on the back of my tongue. “What?”
John chuckled. “You’re something else, Maggie Abernathy.” He drained his beer and held up the empty bottle. “May I?”
“Help yourself. I’ll have another one, too.” I said, before finishing off the first. Not sure of his tactics, I sat patiently as heat crept up my legs into my torso. I patted my cheeks trying to hide the hot flash. I took my second beer from him. “What?”
John chuckled. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that you feel guilty about your behavior today. How’s that hot flash working for you? Are you going to be okay?” he asked with a smirk.
I took a long swig, swallowed, and met his gaze. I wiped the sweat from my bottle then rolled it across my forehead.
“I have to be honest here.” He paused, drumming his fingertips on the counter. “On one hand, I should tell you to mind your own business. But on the other hand, I’ve got to give you some credit for having some balls, excuse my French.”
I choked on my beer.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day.” John sighed as he settled into his chair.
I wiped my mouth and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“Did your beer go up your nose?” he asked.
I nodded, pinching the bridge of my nose harder as my eyes began to water.
“You probably deserved that,” he said with a grin.
“Most likely, yes.” I lowered my gaze then wiped at the corners of my eyes.
“And besides, it’s kind of hard to be mean to a woman dealing with breast cancer.” He put his half-empty bottle on the counter.
The hair on my neck prickled. Instantly, my mind sent discontented messages to my mom via osmosis. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, draining my second beer then pushing the bottle across the counter toward the other empties.
I sat still, waiting for him to break the silence, give up, or change the subject, anything.
John drained his beer, pushed his second empty toward the other three in front of us then went to the refrigerator for two more bottles. He twisted off the tops and slid them in my direction.
“I can play your game, but I’m not sure you want that,” he warned.
“I am going to kill my mother.” I watched his eyes narrow questioning my statement.
“What does she have to do with it? I think we can safely leave her out of this conversation.”
“Seriously?” I asked with raised eyebrows. “Sorry, Mom,” I said, realizing he had other resources.
“Can’t you just admit it?”
I got out of my chair. “Who do you think you are? You come over here, make me feel guilty for your nanny quitting, and now you are prying into my personal life.” I stood my ground as John stepped closer. His fingertips grazed my shoulder as he moved the strap of my shirt to the side and put his pointer finger on my tattoo. “What are you doing?” I thought about slapping his hand away like they do in the movies, but found myself reveling in his electric touch.
“So it’s true.”
I swallowed away the lump in my throat, the tension in my neck pulled at my shoulder blades. No words came.
John lowered his head.
I begged my eyes not to blur.
“I saw the tattoo. I saw the classic red box peeking out of your shirt when your shoulder straps were off your shoulders outside. Not even your priceless expression can hide this. I noticed it at the beach as you hid beneath your hat and gauzy top, but the breeze blew your collar open and you quickly covered yourself up.”
His finger caressed the small black circle. I shut my eyes. His touch was soft, warm, sincere, unexpected. I didn’t want to break the connection. I inhaled sharply and met his gaze. “I have cancer. There, I said it.”
“Well, that’s a good place to start.” He kissed my forehead. “Chloe noticed it, too, but in a different way.”
“You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Give me some credit, now.” He stepped back then sat down on his stool at the counter.
My head tingled. “I think I shouldn’t have any more beer,” I muttered, staring into the half-empty bottle.
“Yeah, you don’t look like a drinker, but with that red hair, I’m guessing the Irish lass in you should belly up and learn how to handle a six-pack.”
“Okay,” I scoffed with a smirk.
“It would be a start.”
I drained my third beer, pushed the empty away, then ran my fingers through my hair, and knotted it on top of my head with the ponytail holder from my wrist. “What a day!” I huffed.
“You’re telling me. Chloe’s nanny quit, no thanks to you.” John sighed.
His pained expression fanned my burning guilt. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“My seven-year-old thinks her mom is coming to visit. Not gonna happen. She says she will, but she never does. And all I’ve heard about is how your mother bought you a dog, and why can’t Chloe have one, too.” He unbuttoned the next button on his shirt. “And you want to know what the kicker is?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I?”
“I came over here with a speech and the intention of putting you in your place, because you, my friend, are just as irritating as Chloe.”
“Hey—” My voice cracked. John’s pointer finger shot up toward the ceiling, his brow furrowed just like Chloe’s had done earlier while having an epiphany in the bushes when I called her out on eavesdropping. Their mannerisms were one in the same. Uncanny.
“No, let me finish before I lose my nerve.” He drained his third beer then continued. “And all I can think about is kissing you.”
Shocked, I adverted his stare, caught my breath, then glanced back at him. I fought back the urge to lean into his body, to reciprocate his longing because I felt it, too. I touched his hand, risking that I might find myself in his arms. I closed
my eyes as he caressed my fingers. “I—” No more words came.
He pulled away, checked his watch, then brushed his fingertips across my cheeks. “I should go.” He collected the empties then put the clanking bottles into the sink.
For the first time since Beckett, I wanted another man. I held his gaze as he approached me without blinking. He swept my hair back from the stitches in my left temple. I closed my eyes thinking about what a mess I was. Cancer. Gash. Divorced. Lost.
“I can remove those stitches when you’re ready.”
I nodded.
“I really should go.” He walked toward the French doors leading to the patio then stopped near Bones who slept like an angel in his crate.
“John—” Frozen, I didn’t know what to say. It had been so long. He held my gaze as the rush of heat burned through me, the kind stoked by attraction, not menopause. “I—” I swallowed. I moved toward him.
“I know, Maggie. You’re not ready.”
He was right, but the yearning to be close to him beckoned. My head and my heart were at odds. He pulled me in. I fit perfectly. For the first time, I knew there would be life after Beckett. The dimple in his left cheek reassured me of that.
“It wouldn’t be fair, to either of us,” John whispered. “Not right now, anyway.”
His musky cologne soothed my nerves while the heat from his body calmed my soul. “I really am sorry about Nanny Nora,” I mumbled. Warm lips kissed my forehead sending sparks through my veins, heating my blood.
He strolled into the night, his words trailing behind him. “Just let me know when you are ready. Night, Maggie,” he said.
I stepped closer to the door. I was ready, but too chicken to admit it.
Chapter 15
Chloe leaped up the steps, flailing her arms trying to balance. “Maggie, guess what, guess what.”
I looked up from my magazine and removed my reading glasses. “What?” I watched her hobble around on sparkly plastic high heels. “Fancy shoes,” I said with a smile.
“This is gonna take more practice than I thought,” Chloe huffed as she plopped down on her bottom. “Hey, where’s Bones?” she asked, unbuckling her silver shoes.
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