He was surprised when instead of feeling betrayed, he felt nothing but relief. Nathan could have her. Just the thought of kissing her again made a bitter taste rise in Riley’s mouth.
As he got out of his car, he caught sight of Mickey walking toward the building from the other direction. Her pale hair made her stand out in the flow of kids. He hurried in the door at his end of the building and managed to be passing the door she was using just as she came in.
She walked right past him without as much as a glance in his direction.
He almost called out to her, but a bunch of his guy friends were passing by. He kept his mouth shut and fell in with them.
Finally, after third period, he saw her at her locker. It wasn’t much of a coincidence as he’d been making a point of passing it every time he was in the halls.
He stopped behind her. “Hi, Mickey.”
She froze for a second, then turned to face him. She didn’t look happy. “Hi.”
He should have been better prepared, but suddenly he didn’t know what to say. He scrambled for a common thread. “Aunt Molly said you babysat for Nicholas.”
“Yeah.”
She wasn’t going to help him out here.
“He’s really little. Weren’t you nervous?”
“No.” She turned and put a book in her locker.
He closed his eyes for a second. “Listen, I—I’m sorry . . . about Codi—”
She spun and faced him, her brown eyes narrowed. “Why would you be sorry? Did you ask her to yell out the window at me?”
For a moment, he couldn’t even breathe. “No.”
“Then don’t apologize.” She slammed her locker and brushed past him.
He stood there, feeling as if she’d punched him in the gut.
Brian Mitchell showed up at Molly’s door at exactly eleven A.M. Monday morning. Thankfully the dreary weather had slipped away in the night like an unwelcome houseguest. The sun shone brightly in a brilliant blue sky, the kind that only comes on crisp autumn days. That alone lightened Molly’s mood; so much so, she’d nearly convinced herself that Brian’s plan for child care would work.
But when she opened the door and saw Hattie Grissom all but swallowed up in her gray overcoat, Molly’s doubts returned. The woman stood almost a foot shorter than Brian and had an old-fashioned flowered silk scarf covering her gray hair and tied under her chin. When Molly invited them in, Brian actually had to put a hand on her shoulder and nudge her forward. Molly’s hope evaporated like yesterday’s fog. To think this shy, frail woman could take care of an infant for twelve straight hours was ridiculous.
“May I take your coat?” she asked Hattie.
Hattie didn’t look at her, but dutifully unbuttoned the coat and handed it over.
“Let’s sit in the kitchen,” Molly suggested, as if there was another choice available.
Once again, it took Brian’s hand on Hattie’s elbow to set the woman in motion.
Although this was clearly a waste of time, Hattie looked so forlorn that Molly decided to at least go through the motions. She hoped that Brian had been true to his word and had not divulged the real reason for this visit.
That hope vanished as soon as they were seated at the table with coffee in mismatched mugs from Lily’s Goodwill box.
Brian said, “Hattie is very interested in the position. In fact, she has several letters of recommendation from young mothers at her church.”
Wordlessly, Hattie took six envelopes out of her handbag and slid them across the table toward Molly.
Molly cut a nasty look Brian’s way. He pretended not to notice, but she saw the slight smile he tried to hide.
To Hattie, she smiled and said, “Thank you. I’ll be sure and read these carefully.” She licked her lips. “I don’t think Brian has explained the job very well. I’m going to be working odd shifts, twelve hours at a time, with four days on and then five days off. I’m sure such long hours won’t be what you’re interested in.”
Hattie cast a furtive glance at Brian, who nodded encouragingly. Then she said, “I’m not afraid to work—worked all my life. I’m stronger than I look. Been taking care of the livestock since Ed passed.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean . . . it’s just that taking care of an infant for twelve hours is much different than for an hour or two during church services.” Good God, the woman couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds. Molly looked to Brian to help out, but he just took a long sip of coffee.
“Pastor Mark says I have a gift with babies. Says I should use it.” Hattie paused and looked into her coffee for a moment. “I’d take real good care of your boy.”
Molly scrambled for a way out. “If you’ve been taking care of the livestock yourself, how could you spend twelve hours here? And then, of course there’s the problem of transportation.”
“Sold the stock. ’Cept for my chickens. They manage fine once the feed’s out and the eggs is brought in.”
“I see. But it would be impractical for me to load up the baby to drive out to the farm and bring you back here every day.”
Hattie looked directly at Molly for the first time. Her blue eyes were sharp and clear. The woman might be shy, but Molly saw a bright intelligence burning there. “I can drive myself.”
At that, even Brian perked up. “You can?”
Hattie waved a bony hand in the air. “’Course. Don’t live on a farm your whole life and not learn to drive.”
Molly said, “But I thought the ladies of the church brought you to town for your weekly shopping.”
Hattie tilted her little head, reminding Molly of a bright-eyed bird. A grin slowly spread over her face. “If I didn’t let them do that, they’d be lookin’ to do somethin’ else. Ever’body wants to do for me now that I’m a widow. It’s kind of them, but I can’t be having someone underfoot every day. Just ’cause Ed always drove, they think I can’t. So I let them drive me to church on Sunday and shopping on Mondays. Keeps ever’body happy—them doing their Christian duty and all. Pastor Mark thinks it’s a good idea.”
Brian slapped the table and laughed aloud.
“I can do house chores when the baby’s sleeping,” Hattie said, seeming to gain confidence as she spoke. “But when the baby’s awake, it’s time for him. I don’t do anything else but care for him—read or sing—babies need lots of stimulation.”
Just then, Nicholas erupted in a scream much like he had last night. Molly started to get up, but Hattie put a hand on her arm and said, “Let me.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I think he’s getting colic.” Molly felt Brian step on her toe under the table.
Hattie pointed to the stack of envelopes on the table. “The one there from Sharon Middleton tells ’bout colic. I helped her with her little Emily and the colic.” Then she left the room, following the baby’s cry straight into the bedroom.
Molly got up to follow, but Brian caught her hand. “Give her a chance.”
Molly waited for a full two minutes before she followed Hattie into the bedroom. The baby was still crying furiously and she couldn’t stand to wait any longer. But she stopped at the bedroom door and watched in surprise.
Hattie had already changed the baby’s diaper and had Nicholas cradled against her middle, as Molly had last night. She was swaying slightly and singing to him. Gone was the timid mouse; Hattie moved with quiet confidence with the child in her arms.
When she looked up and saw Molly she said, “If you’d turn the shower on hot, then close the bathroom door, I think I can help him.”
Brian answered from right behind Molly. “I’ll do it.”
No way was Molly letting Hattie go into that bathroom alone with her baby with scalding water running. She was right on the woman’s heels when she crossed the hall to the bathroom door.
Hattie looked over her shoulder and said, “’Course, you’ll want to come in too, so you can see and do for yourself when I’m not here.”
The bathroom was very small, so Brian stepped out when they entered. By
then the steam was thick near the ceiling and the mirror was fogging over. Hattie sat on the closed toilet lid and put Nicholas, still crying in what most certainly had to be pain, across her knees on his stomach.
“It’ll take a minute for the steam to get down here to him,” she said as she alternated lifting each heel off the floor just a fraction of an inch. She spoke softly, even though there was no way the baby could hear over his own crying, and rubbed his back gently.
Nicholas’s cries became less frantic.
“You want to do this right away,” Hattie said. “Let him get too worked up, he just gulps more air and makes it worse.”
That made sense to Molly.
“Babies like the sound of the water,” Hattie said as Nicholas calmed even more. “Steam soothes ’em.”
By the time Molly’s face felt dewy with the steam, the baby had quieted.
Hattie looked at her with a grandmotherly smile. “You can go on out. No sense gettin’ into a sweat. I’ll sit for a bit, until he’s settled for sure.”
Molly thought of the three hours she’d paced the floors last night with little effect and her admiration for this woman’s instincts multiplied. She asked, “Could you come and spend a few hours with us, maybe do a short stay, before I start work?”
“I ’spect that’d be a good idea.” She continued to rub Nicholas’s back. “Go on now. Afore you melt.”
Molly stepped back into the hall.
Brian was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Either she fixed him, or you two duct taped his mouth closed in there.”
“She fixed him.” Then she said, “But it could be a fluke. We’re going to do a test run.”
Brian grinned. “Great. You won’t be sorry. And don’t forget to read those letters.”
In a couple of minutes, Hattie emerged from the bathroom, her gray hair frizzed from the steam. Nicholas rested quietly in her arms. She looked around, then frowned. “You got a baby and no rocker?”
“I haven’t had much time to get things set up. I’ll get one.”
Hattie walked into the kitchen and sat down with the baby in her lap. “No need. I’ll bring mine.”
Brian offered, “I could move it for you.”
With a calm confidence that surprised Molly, Hattie looked him in the eye and said, “Don’t talk foolish. It don’t weigh as much as them feed sacks. I’ll put it in the truck when I come.”
Hattie fed Nicholas while Molly and Brian drank coffee. It was lunchtime, but Molly didn’t have anything suitable in the house to offer company.
“Can I take you two to the Dew Drop for lunch?” she said, feeling more relaxed than she had in a month. This could all actually work out.
Brian looked to Hattie.
She shook her head. “I need to get on home. I got painting to finish today.”
Molly said, “You’re an artist?”
Hattie chuckled shyly. “Good lands, no. The gutters. Gotta get ’em finished while the weather’s good.”
She handed over a well-fed, happy baby. Then Brian helped her into her coat. Molly promised to call and set up a time for their trial run and Hattie placed her age-spotted hand tenderly on Nicholas’s head.
“He’s a fine boy.”
“Thank you. And thank you for your help.”
She nodded and pressed her dry lips together as if debating whether or not to say something, then went out the door.
Molly caught Brian’s sleeve before he followed her out. “Sorry I doubted. I don’t know how to thank you.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Have dinner with me. That can be Hattie’s trial sitting job.”
Panic bubbled forth. Brian was a nice guy, a friend. If anyone saw them out together, this town would have them married before they got home from dinner. “I don’t—”
“You look like I just asked you to run away with me. It’s just dinner.” He smiled that charming smile that he was so famous for.
“All right.”
“Good, I’ll call you and we can set up a date.”
Date. She looked at him, but Dean’s face flashed in her mind. Stop it. She was here for the long haul. Dean wasn’t. Maybe someday that idea of a date with Brian would appeal to her. She managed a smile and closed the door behind him.
Riley cut his last class. He couldn’t stand sitting still any longer. He got in the car that his Grandpa Holt had given him for his sixteenth birthday and drove away from school. He wasn’t even careful about sneaking out. He walked out of the front door as if it was what he was supposed to be doing.
He really wanted to try to talk to Mickey again, even more since she cut him off this morning. Her contempt showed him just how big of a jerk he’d been. But it looked like it was too late to do anything about it; Mickey wasn’t in a forgiving mood. And he really couldn’t blame her.
It was way too early to go home, so he drove around the lake. When he got to the Holts’ lake house where he and his mom had stayed when they first came to Glens Crossing, he stopped. It was closed up, as were most of those on Mill Run Road. These houses belonged to people who only came in the summer—mostly from Chicago. But unlike the other houses, the Holt house was closed up permanently. His dad owned it and swore he’d never set foot in this town again. But he couldn’t sell it because it had been in his family forever and Grandpa Holt would have Dad’s ass in a sling.
Riley pulled into the lane that wound its way through the trees until it stopped beside the big house on the lake.
The house was dark green with white trim and deep eaves that shaded the upstairs windows. The rooms had high ceilings and hardwood floors that made the house echo when you walked around in it. When he’d first arrived here, he’d hated this house—he’d hated everything about this town. But by the time he and his mom moved out, he discovered at some point he’d actually grown to like it.
He wished he had a key so he could go inside. Years ago, when his dad was a kid, you could sneak in and out of the coal chute. But that first summer his mom had that fixed. After he got out of the car, he went to the porch and tried to peek in the windows, but all of the draperies had been closed. Then he walked down the slope of the yard to the boat dock.
The sun was bright, glinting off the water in a festive way. Riley didn’t feel festive. He felt dark and alone. There was a cold ache deep in the center of his chest. He didn’t want sunshine. He turned around and walked back toward his car.
There was one place that not only suited his mood, but he would be guaranteed not to be bothered by anyone. He left his car in the drive and started to walk down Mill Run Road.
In fifteen minutes, he left the road on a narrow deer path that cut through the woods to Blackwater Creek. The first time he’d walked this path, he’d been angry, frustrated and confused—pretty much like he felt now, but for different reasons.
He followed the creek to the spot where the dam’s spillway emptied into it; to the place where the water moccasins nested—the place he’d met Mickey. He sat down on a fallen tree trunk and watched the water flow past. It was shadowed here in the ravine at the bottom of the dam. Even with most of the leaves off the trees, the branches were thick enough to break up the sun. This place suited his mood. He hadn’t been here for over a year and had forgotten how peaceful it was.
Breathing in the scent of decaying leaves and muddy creek bank, he tried to find a bit of that peace in himself. This had been their special meeting place, his and Mickey’s. If anyone had found out they had been meeting here, where it was so secluded a boy and girl could do anything and not worry about being caught, they might have gotten in trouble. But it hadn’t been that way between them. They’d never even kissed. If they had, it would have messed everything up. That thought stopped Riley in his mental tracks. How could it have screwed things up more than they were now?
Maybe if he had kissed her, things would have been different. Maybe if they’d started school and everybody knew she was his girlfriend, she would have b
een accepted into the crowd. Or, maybe I would have been locked out like she is. Could he have stood it, living on the outside of everything?
He sat there for a long time, wondering how life might have been different, if it would have changed anything. Finally, he came to the conclusion that Mickey wouldn’t have wanted to have been accepted into the crowd, especially if she would have had to compromise her unconventional attitudes and beliefs to do it. And, he thought, if Mickey gave up her uniqueness, would she still hold as special a place in his heart?
He groaned. It was true—he’d tried to ignore it by being in the middle of everything going on at school, by making out with Codi Craig—Mickey was in his heart, deep down where she could lie hidden but never, never be removed.
A part of him wanted to move away from the creek, to go to the place tucked under an outcropping of limestone where they used to spread a blanket and talk, or read. But that was Mickey’s special place. He felt funny going there without her—especially now. It would be like snooping around in her room.
He didn’t feel a whole lot better when he got up off the log and started back on the path to the road. But he did know that he wanted to have Mickey in his life again. How was he going to fix this?
Mickey held her breath as she watched Riley sitting on the log. She’d nearly blundered right into him. After signing herself out sick at lunchtime, she’d come to the spot where she could always be alone with her thoughts. For a while, Riley had shared it with her. But that was a long time ago. He didn’t come down here anymore.
But there he was. His eyes had been closed, so she’d managed to take two silent steps backward and slip behind the trunk of a giant sycamore.
She risked the occasional peek to see if he was still there. Just seeing him there alone made her heart feel like someone was wringing the life out of it. His apology this morning had shaken her, and for a brief second had given her a false glimmer of hope. But she had to be strong. She had grown accustomed to life without him. She couldn’t risk thinking they could go back.
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