by Nan Dixon
The street was clear, so Nathan stepped off the curb. Josh dug in his heels. “Don’t cross in the middle.”
Nathan bit back a retort. The kid was only six. He backtracked and they headed to the crosswalk.
As they approached Fitzgerald House, Nathan asked, “What’s your favorite pizza topping?”
“Green olives.” Josh let go of his hand.
Nathan hated olives. He knelt in front of Issy. “What do you like?”
She pointed to Josh.
“You like Josh?” He wanted her to talk. “We can’t cook him on a pizza.”
She giggled.
“No.” There was a you dummy in Josh’s tone. “She likes green olives.”
And the small ray of hope that Issy’s smile had kindled evaporated like the winter fog. Josh wouldn’t understand he was trying to get her talk. This mute stuff was getting old.
“Is that what you like?” Nathan asked her.
She nodded.
“What about pepperoni?” She shook her head. “Sausage?” Another head shake.
In their apartment, he went through a list of ingredients, getting only one more yes. “Cheese and olives?” He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice.
She nodded and ran to her bedroom. And came back dragging her ragged blanket. At least it was clean.
He ordered a large pie and made the kids’ half cheese and olives and his side a meat-lover’s. Since the delivery person wouldn’t be able to get into the building, he left his cell phone number. He would have to go outside when the guy called.
He missed his simple life. It might not have been normal, but it had been easier. In Atlanta he hadn’t worried about much, just hiding his dyslexia. Here he worried about every damn thing.
“I’m hungry.” Josh plopped into one of his kitchen chairs.
What the hell did he have that wouldn’t ruin their appetites before the pizza arrived? Nathan grabbed the last banana. It was a little soft, but it would do. He snapped the banana in two. A trick he’d learned in high school.
Josh’s eyes were wide. “How’d you do that?”
Breaking a banana was the way to get through to this kid? Since this was their last banana, he put the two pieces together and showed Josh how to break it. “I learned that trick years ago.” And Daniel had never mastered the art.
“Can I try?”
“This is the last banana.” And if they manhandled it too much, the kids wouldn’t get a snack. “Next time.”
He grabbed a plate for the slices and set it between Josh and Issy’s chair. Then he picked her up. “Go ahead.”
“I don’t eat bananas.” Josh smirked. “They’re mushy.”
Nathan wanted to beat his head against the door frame. He pulled out a bag of carrots. Thank goodness Issy had pointed at them when they were shopping. He added a few to the plate. “These aren’t mushy.”
Issy held up her hands. Shoot. Kids needed to wash their hands before they ate. “Hit the bathroom before you touch anything.”
He helped Issy down and she and Josh ran down the hall.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. The letters held in place long enough for him to decipher the readout.
“Hi, Kerrianne.”
“I need to double-check Quint’s hours. You have him working seventy hours last week on the Fitzgerald House project.”
“Seventy? Hang on.” Not possible. He checked on the kids as he headed to his bedroom. After Issy arrived, he’d moved his desk there. He flipped through the paperwork looking for Quint’s time.
Q. Q. Q, he reminded himself. There. He pulled the sheet. Scanned the numbers. “Twenty. He worked twenty hours.”
“That makes a lot more sense,” she said.
“Anything else you need?” Had he screwed up more numbers?
“No, that was the only question. Have a good night.”
“Yeah.” Didn’t he wish.
In the kitchen, he opened the fridge and pulled out a Southbound IPA. Popping the cap, he let the cold liquid slide down his throat. His eyes closed, his head rocked back.
What he wouldn’t give to just leave. Head to a bar. Forget all the crap filling his life.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Issy’s quick ones. Josh’s dragging steps. He took another swallow.
Josh stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. “You’re not supposed to drink beer.”
“I’m an adult. I can do what I want.” Boy, was that a lie.
“My mom said no drinking.”
He finished the bottle. “There. Done. Eat your snack.”
At the snap in his tone, Issy sidled to the wall, shrinking into her little body.
“It’s okay.” He moved to put her in her booster chair, but she cowered.
“Don’t hurt her!” Josh scrambled over and took her hand, as if he could protect her from a man his size.
He knelt in front of the two kids. “I would never hurt her.”
Tears filled Issy’s brown eyes. She trembled like she was in a blizzard without a coat.
He reached out but didn’t touch her. “I’ll never hurt you, sweetie.”
Her thin lips shook. Her mouth opened, as though she might speak, but nothing came out.
The kid was breaking his heart. He opened his arms and she stumbled into his hug. He inhaled the sweet berry scent of her shampoo. “How about finishing your snack?”
She nodded against his shoulder. He set her in her chair. Josh hopped into a seat.
Nathan checked the clock. If he was lucky, Cheryl would arrive before bedtime. It couldn’t be soon enough.
* * *
CHERYL STARTED THE dishwasher and then wiped the cart and the counters.
She couldn’t stop smiling. It was nice having Abby’s kitchen to herself, to be trusted with the wine-tasting preparation and cleanup. Well, she could do without the cleaning, but it came with the territory. All the Fitzgerald sisters cleaned when necessary.
Life might have been different if she’d had a sibling. Maybe her mom would have been a better parent. Maybe she would have been loved.
She grabbed the bottle of Jameson and topped off the cut-glass decanter in the library. It was part of the service Fitzgerald House provided, but she turned up her nose at the smell. Mom would have finished off the bottle, not caring that the whiskey cost a fortune. It was all about the buzz.
Cheryl locked the butler’s pantry and the swinging door into the kitchen. She’d waited for a late check-in, but she could finally head home.
Halfway across the courtyard, she glanced at her apartment. It should be empty, but lights glowed from the window. She froze at the bottom of the steps. Who was in the apartment?
Josh was safe with Nathan. Threading her keys through her fingers, she crept up the stairs.
She set her ear to the door. Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. She slipped the key in the door. She couldn’t quiet the metallic click of the lock, but at least the door didn’t squeak when she pushed it open.
She tiptoed into the room. The hallway light was on. Had she forgotten to turn it off?
No. Which way should she go? Over to Nathan’s or to check out her own apartment?
Josh. She needed to make sure Josh was okay. Her heart pounded as she kicked off her shoes, hoping her bare feet would be quieter.
The kitchen door was propped open and so was the door to Nathan’s apartment. Had they been robbed? Creeping in, she strained to hear anything. There was the buzz of the television. And...snoring?
With her back against the wall, she slid closer to the living room. The noises grew louder with each step. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and peered around the corner.
Nathan was asleep in his recliner. The television showed a ball game. And two beer bo
ttles sat on the coffee table.
Her teeth snapped together. Hadn’t she told him not to drink around her son?
She headed to his bedroom, stomping a little. Nathan didn’t move.
The bed was empty. Her heart twisted in her chest. Maybe Josh had slept with Isabella. She hurried to the little girl’s room, running to the bed.
Only Isabella.
She gasped.
Racing back to the living room, she shoved Nathan’s shoulder. “Where is he? Where’s Josh?”
“What?” He opened blurry red eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Josh?” she wailed.
Nathan rubbed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “Asleep.”
“I checked your bed and Issy’s.” She punched his shoulder. “He’s not there.”
“Give me a minute.” Nathan shook his head like a dog.
“I don’t have a minute.” She rushed to the open door. Would Josh have wandered into the construction zone? Was he hurt?
“Hang on.”
Bare feet padded behind her. Nathan grabbed her arm before she headed into the dark recesses of the carriage house. “Josh is sleeping in his own bed.”
“You left him alone!” She changed direction and rushed through her open kitchen door.
Skidding to a stop outside Josh’s room, she tiptoed next to his bed. She climbed the ladder, needing to touch her son.
“Mom?” Josh murmured when she stroked his leg.
“Just me, baby. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She half slid, half crawled down the ladder. Her heart pounded in her ears.
Nathan waited in the hallway. His arms crossed over his chest. “He refused to sleep in my bed.”
“So you left him in an empty apartment?” She got in his face and caught a whiff of beer. “And you were drinking. I told you not to do that around my son.”
“I had a hell of a day. Everyone is safe.” He handed her the monitor. “I would have heard if he’d woken up.”
“Over your drunken snoring?”
He glared at her. “Lighten up.”
“And you grow up.” She pushed against his chest and he flattened his hand on hers, holding it against his warmth.
Something flashed in Nathan’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He stepped so close their legs brushed against each other. He stroked her cheek. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Her anger deflated and desire filled the space it left. Why him? He was the opposite of Brad. Brad had been her hero.
She tried to escape but her legs wouldn’t move. He cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his hand on her face. It had been so long since a man had touched her.
“I had a crappy day.” He leaned in. “I’m sorry.”
He was going to kiss her. He tipped her chin, his face drew near. And the scent of beer assaulted her nose.
She stumbled away from him. She would never trust a man who drank because he was having a bad day. “No.”
He held up his hands like she’d pulled a gun on him. “I just...” His voice trailed off. His eyes searched her face, but she refused to look at him.
“I need to...study.” She stared at the floor.
“Cheryl.” His voice scolded her. “Can’t we—”
“No.” She shook her head. Ashamed that her body wanted him to stay.
He backed away. “I can’t help wanting to kiss you.”
“Yes, you can.” Her heart thumped. “We’re not going to complicate this.”
He headed to the kitchen. “We already have.”
* * *
NATHAN DUMPED LAST NIGHT’S beer bottles into the recycling bin. He should have picked up the place after Cheryl had kicked him out. Instead he’d had another beer.
He would never admit it to Cheryl, but he had a slight hangover. What had happened to his tolerance?
Miss Temperance League had happened. No drinking around the kids. No this. No that.
“Issy, time to get up,” he called.
At least it was Cheryl’s morning to feed the kids and get them to day care. Assuming she hadn’t changed her mind.
He got Issy ready, taking her to the bathroom to strip off her wet diaper and encouraging her to sit on the toilet. Then he handed her underwear. Thank goodness she was adept enough to pull them on herself.
This was his life now. Potty training and dealing with a silent kid. Sometimes he wondered if this was karma for all his troublemaking years.
“What do you want to wear?” He opened her dresser drawer. Everything went together—because everything was pink.
He held up a shirt with some princess on it and another shirt with a different character.
She pointed to the princess shirt.
“Say the words, short stuff.”
She giggled but just pointed again. He sighed. Parents deserved a lot more credit than he’d ever given them. He pulled out shorts and handed them to her.
With her dressed and his water bottles filled, he took her hand. “Let’s go see Miss Cheryl and Josh.”
She turned the right direction in the hallway and waited while Nathan knocked.
“Who’s there?”
He rolled his eyes. “Nathan.”
The door snapped open. Cheryl stepped back so Issy could step in.
Was she still mad? Cheryl’s golden-brown eyes didn’t give anything away. Had she reconsidered their arrangement?
“We’re having pancakes, Isabella. Does that sound good?”
Issy nodded and walked in.
Cheryl started to shut the door but he stepped inside.
The look she shot him was poisonous.
He touched her arm. “I need to make sure we’re okay.”
“We aren’t anything,” Cheryl stated.
“I mean...” He puffed out a breath, stalling. “You wouldn’t take your anger out on Issy, would you? It’s fine to be mad at me, but Issy...” He held up his hands.
“I would never take my anger out on a child.” Her shoulders drooped. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Thanks.”
He helped Issy into the booster chair Cheryl kept for her. “Have a good day, short stuff.”
She giggled again. At least it was something.
“Thanks,” he whispered as he brushed by Cheryl. “I’ll see you tonight.”
* * *
HOW COULD THE man think she would take her anger out on an innocent child? Cheryl gritted her teeth. A child who’d been forced to live with a father she’d never met.
And what about the girl’s mother? Why hadn’t she told Nathan about Isabella? When she’d ended up in rehab, she’d had to leave her child with a stranger.
Cheryl scooped up pancakes and put a couple on Isabella’s plate. “Josh, come eat while they’re hot.”
Her son dragged himself into the kitchen. “I’m tired.”
“How late did you stay up?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” A sly look crossed her son’s face. “Mr. Nathan just kept drinking.”
Her stomach twisted. How many beers had Nathan had?
“Why didn’t you sleep in his bed?”
“It smelled...funny.”
What did that mean? She’d never smelled anything funny. But then she’d never put her head on Nathan’s pillows.
“It was almost as stinky as the woman he talked to on the street. She stank, right, Issy?” He wagged his head. “He called her darlin’.” Josh dragged the word out.
Isabella nodded but kept dipping pancakes in syrup and stuffing them in her mouth.
He’d almost kissed her last night and he was calling another woman darlin’
? Anger twisted in her gut. “Did the woman come to his apartment?” she asked, trying to sound normal.
“No.” Josh took a big chunk of pancake and crammed it in his mouth. “He had to leave us alone when the pizza arrived.”
She blew out a breath. First he talked to some floozy. Then he ordered pizza and, third, he left a four-and six-year-old alone in the apartment. Her fingers tightened around the pancake flipper. She would give him a piece of her mind. These were basic childcare rules. Even he couldn’t be this stupid.
She stewed while walking the kids to day care. Stewed while prepping salads and sides for a luncheon in the Fitzgerald House ballroom.
“Are you okay?” Amy, one of the Fitzgerald House staff, asked as they cleared dishes from the luncheon.
“What?” Cheryl shook her head.
“Are you all right?” Amy asked.
“Fine.”
“You look like you want to take someone’s head off.” Amy shivered. “I was glad you weren’t serving today. You might have thrown the food in people’s laps.”
“Do I look angry?” She bit her lip.
“I’ve worked with you for over a year.” Amy shrugged. “You usually smile. Today you’ve got furrows between your brows.”
Cheryl set the last plate on the cart and dropped her head back, trying to relax her forehead. “I’m—”
“Upset?”
She didn’t know what she was. “Yes. I need to yell at the person who upset me.” And who put her son in danger.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Amy pushed the loaded cart to the elevator.
“No.” This was between her and Nathan.
“I’m here for you.” Amy patted her arm.
She and Amy weren’t far apart in age. Amy was twenty-four and worked at the B and B part-time while going to college. Cheryl had just turned twenty-nine, but listening to Amy’s tales of work and school made her feel ancient. Amy visited bars and picked up guys. Things Cheryl had never done. The only time she’d even been in a bar was to find Mama.
“Are you setting up for the fiftieth wedding anniversary?” Amy asked as they loaded the dishwasher.
“I’m prepping appetizers for both the B and B and the party.” After she found Mr. Nathan Forester and gave him hell.