“A couple of things sound interesting.”
“Do you think you’re going to be up to it?”
“I’m going to have to be.”
“That’s not how this works, Roz. You can’t will yourself to be physically strong.”
“I love my daughter, and I’m going to do what’s necessary to get her through this.”
“Love isn’t some magical cure. Love won’t heal your cancer or stop the effects of the chemo. Heck, as much as you and the kids love each other, if love was enough, you’d be well by now. In fact, you’d never have gotten sick in the first place.”
She sucked in a breath, prepared to argue, then stopped. Paul was right. Love might make her feel better emotionally, but, sadly, it didn’t do a thing for her physically.
Paul turned off the car then placed his hand over hers. The heat from his fingers warmed the chill that had seeped into her bones, growing colder with each of Ms. Hawkins’s words until Roz was frozen inside. “You aren’t alone. I’m here.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.” His thumb moved over her hand in a gentle caress. A few seconds later, he frowned and snatched his hand away.
She blew out a breath. “I don’t think this is going to work. You can’t put the past behind you. When you find yourself being nice to me, giving me a little bit of comfort, you pull away. It’s like you’re reminding yourself that I’m a horrible person. Sometimes I feel like you’re replaying every mistake I’ve ever made in your mind so you don’t have to consider the fact that I might have changed. It would be okay if it was just me, but it’s not. Suzanne has picked up on it. She’s already stressed out. She doesn’t need our flawed relationship adding to her stress.”
Roz got out of the car and then slammed the door behind her. It might have been childish, but it felt good.
* * *
Paul watched as Roz stormed up the stairs. She was totally wrong. He hadn’t been thinking about how badly she’d treated him in the past. Feeling her soft skin beneath his fingers had stirred up happy memories of the times they’d spent together. From the moment they’d met in chemistry class, they’d been at ease with each other. They’d shared the same offbeat sense of humor and had laughed together at the silliest things. Roz had possessed the unique ability to not only find pleasure in the simplest things but to help him find that same joy, as well.
The memories had been accompanied by a hint of desire that was completely inappropriate. Given the radio silence between him and Kristin, he could safely say that that relationship was over. But maybe a reconciliation wasn’t out of the question. And even though he was willing to forgive Roz for the past, only a fool traveled the same road twice. And he wasn’t a fool. So, no matter how pleasant the reminiscences, he wouldn’t allow them to blind him. He wasn’t going to open his heart to her again.
He climbed out of the car and followed Roz into the house. He found her in the kitchen. A pot of water was on the stove and the pungent aroma of vinegar filled the air. She was snatching items from the cabinet with swift, angry movements, arranging them on the kitchen table. Clearly, she was about to cook something. From the look of things, it was going to be a lot of work. Just what she didn’t need to be doing. She needed to rest.
One thing he knew about Roz: she was stubborn as all get-out. He considered suggesting that she turn off the stove and lie down for a while, but he knew if he did, she’d turn him into the bad guy.
“What are you making?” He was pleased to note his voice contained the friendly curiosity he was aiming for.
She put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. Apparently, she wasn’t fooled. “Caramel apples. Why?”
He smiled. He loved taffy apples. It had been years since he’d had one. And that one had been a mass-produced apple he’d bought at the grocery store. Roz’s homemade caramel apple was going to taste a hundred times better. His mouth watered at the thought.
“Want help?” This time his friendly tone was sincere.
Her chest rose and fell as she took a long, deep breath, signaling that a definite no was on its way out of her lips. “To be honest—”
He cut her off before she could continue. “We need to provide a stress-free home for Suzanne, remember? Which means we need to work on our relationship. What better way to work out the bugs than by cooking together?” He held out his hand. “So...friends?”
She paused, then shook his hand. “Friends.”
“And can I help?”
“Fine. You can help.”
He washed his hands, then pointed at the pot. “What’s that for?”
“To remove the wax from the apples. A couple of seconds in the solution does the trick.”
“There are some apple orchards not too far from here. Maybe we can add apple picking to the list.”
“Maybe.”
She sounded a bit noncommittal, but he let it pass. No doubt she was adjusting to their new, minutes-old friendship, as was he. Plus, she had the added burden of determining if she felt strong enough for something so physical.
He knew she still experienced episodes of fatigue. The doctor couldn’t predict how long the bouts would last. Could be weeks, could be months. Frustrated with the doctor’s answer, Paul had consulted his friend, and the town doctor, Rick Tyler. Rick had pretty much given the same nonanswer. The best guidance Rick could offer was for Paul to make sure Roz ate well and rested often. And, of course, she needed to keep her stress level down. Another reason for Paul to adjust his attitude.
“What should I do now?” he asked.
“You can put the sticks into the apples.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to mix the ingredients for the caramel.”
He pictured her standing over the hot stove, stirring the mixture. No way. “How about we switch jobs?”
“Paul, I’m not an invalid.”
“And I’m not a child. That’s something you would have Suzanne do. I’m a man. I can do more than shove a stick into an apple.”
“Fine. You can make the caramel. But don’t let it burn.”
“I think I can handle that. How hard can it be?”
Thirty minutes later, Paul slid the tray of caramel-covered apples into the refrigerator, then let out a loud sigh. Making caramel sauce had sounded so easy. And it probably was if you knew what you were doing. He didn’t. Stirring and keeping an eye on the candy thermometer, making sure the caramel didn’t get too hot, then pouring everything into a metal bowl and watching the thermometer again so the caramel didn’t get too cold was nerve-racking. Maybe he should be the one with his feet up, nursing a cup of broccoli cheddar soup that Brandon Danielson, owner of Heaven on Earth, Sweet Briar’s very popular restaurant, dropped off yesterday.
If he was going to be honest with himself—and why the heck wouldn’t he?—it was being alone in close confines with Roz that had him sweating. Sitting at the table, illuminated by the sunlight that streamed through the window and looking angelic, she awakened emotions in him he’d fought to keep dormant. Yet he found himself unable to stem the tide of softer feelings flowing through him. He was struggling to crush the need to make everything better for her. This was a battle he couldn’t lose if he expected to walk away with his heart intact.
She looked up and caught him staring at her. He reflexively started to turn away but caught himself just in time. If they were going to lower the tension in this house, he needed to treat her as a friend, so he smiled and crossed the room, dropping into a chair across from her. “You could have told me how intense that would be.”
She laughed and her eyes lit up. His heart thumped against his rib cage in response. “You’re the one who insisted on a man-size job.”
“True, true.” Despite his burned finger, he felt pretty good. “Do you think the kids will like them?”
“Oh, yeah. They love sweet things.”
His eyes shot to her full lips. So did he. And that was the problem.
Chapter Five
“I don’t want to eat my peas. I want a taffy apple now,” Suzanne said, her bottom lip quivering. A tear slipped from her eye and slid down her chubby cheek, breaking Paul’s heart. The kids knew dessert came after dinner, but that didn’t make seeing Suzanne in tears any easier. He knew she wasn’t upset simply because she wanted to eat her treat, but rather because of everything happening in her life. Roz’s illness and the fear of losing her mother weighed on Suzanne’s mind, and she was handling it the only way she knew how—by acting out.
Roz eased from her chair and knelt beside Suzanne, taking her daughter’s hands into her own. “I know you must be disappointed. I would be, too. But we always finish our dinner before we eat dessert. You know that.”
“But my tummy is running out of room. If I eat my peas I won’t have any space for my taffy apple. And everybody else will get to eat theirs. It’s not fair.”
“I see. Well, how about this? I won’t eat my taffy apple until you have room in your tummy. Will that make you feel better?”
Suzanne nodded.
“I won’t eat mine either.” Paul said. He shot a meaningful glance at the other children who let out heavy sighs.
Nathaniel had lifted his apple to his mouth, but now lowered it without biting it. “I guess I can wait, too. Can I watch TV now?”
“Sure,” Paul said. “Put your plate in the sink.”
“Me, too?” Megan asked, grabbing her empty plate before jumping up to follow her brother.
Paul nodded.
“Come on. No more crying. Let’s finish those peas.” Roz wiped Suzanne’s face. The little girl stiffened. She looked terrified and guilty. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t mean to cry, Mommy. I tried not to, but it just came out.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
“Gabby’s sister said when kids cry in front of their mommies that their mommies’ hearts break. I don’t want you to have a breaked heart. You can die with a breaked heart.”
Paul met Roz’s gaze as she pulled Suzanne into her arms. The pain in Roz’s eyes was enough to break his heart. “That’s not what it means. When a heart is broken you don’t die. It just means you’re sad.”
“Are you sure?” Suzanne asked. “Gabby’s sister is big. She’s even bigger than Nathaniel.”
“I’m very sure.”
“Okay,” Suzanne whispered, a trace of doubt lingering in her voice. “I don’t want you to die, Mommy.”
“I won’t.” Roz held her daughter, then brushed a tear from her own eye. Paul discovered he needed to do the same. He’d been around Suzanne for months. How could he not have noticed how much pain and fear she’d been holding inside? A feeling of helplessness threatened to consume him, but he pushed it aside. This was not the time to give up. The battle to help Suzanne might be tough, but so was he.
Crossing the room, he wrapped his arm around Roz and Suzanne in a brief hug before helping Roz to stand. He’d been fighting to remain immune to her, but he was rapidly losing that battle. Seeing Roz’s pain was like having his heart ripped from his chest.
“Let’s finish those peas so you can get to your treat,” he said. “I worked hard on these apples.”
Suzanne looked at him in surprise. “You made the taffy apples, Uncle Paul?”
“I sure did.” He looked at Roz and winked. “With a little help from your mommy.”
“You did them together? At the same time?”
“We did.”
Suzanne looked at her mother for confirmation. When Roz nodded, Suzanne’s mouth lifted into a tiny smile. “I know they’ll be double good.”
Suzanne polished off her peas, set her plate in the sink then raced from the room, leaving Roz and Paul alone. Once Suzanne was gone, Roz’s forced smile slipped and she looked like she’d been punched in the gut. He knew the feeling.
“I didn’t know she was worried about that.” Roz slumped and dropped her head onto her folded arms. His heart still aching, he circled the table and wrapped his arm around her shaking shoulders.
“Don’t cry.”
“You don’t understand.” She lifted her tearstained face to him. “Do you have any idea how many times I told her that seeing her cry broke my heart? How many times I’ve said that to all three of my children? Who knows what Megan and Nathaniel are thinking? For all I know, they’re worried about the same thing and just haven’t said anything.”
“I don’t think they are. Neither of them is as literal as Suzanne. But if it makes you feel better, we can ask them.”
“My kids are hurting and it’s all my fault.”
“How is any of this your fault? You didn’t try to get cancer. That’s something that happened to you. And you certainly aren’t responsible for what some kid tells your daughter about hearts breaking.” He reached out and cupped her damp face then wiped away the tears. “And you most certainly aren’t to blame for the tension that Suzanne sensed. The blame for that lies squarely on my shoulders.”
“You came when I needed you, Paul.”
She may be willing to let him off the hook with a simple apology, but he wasn’t. “And I made a mess of everything.”
“No, you didn’t. You kept my kids fed, in clean clothes and safe. That’s what matters. Besides, we agreed to leave the past and all its mistakes behind us. So let’s start over from today and do what we can to help the kids. All I want is for them to be happy and healthy.”
Was it? Could she really be happy with so little? She was still a young woman. Certainly she would want to fall in love and marry again. Not that her romantic life was any of his business. He was here to help with her physical concerns and her children. So why was he having a hard time remembering that?
* * *
Roz put down the last brochure, adding it to the small pile of activities to be considered. The ferry tour sounded interesting and not too strenuous. And she loved the water. She knew that the bouts with fatigue could continue for a while, but she wouldn’t let the lack of energy control her life. If she did, she might start to feel sorry for herself. Aunt Rosemary had frequently reminded Roz that so many people had it much worse and that it would be considered ungrateful to do anything other than count her blessings.
Roz’s aunt had pointed out numerous times how Roz could have been with her parents when the accident occurred. That after her parents’ deaths she could have been left with no one to care for her. Aunt Rosemary had regularly pointed out that she hadn’t shied away from the responsibility thrust upon her. But Roz had never wanted to be an obligation. She’d wanted to be loved. Cherished. And here she was, once more an obligation to someone who didn’t love her.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears that she wouldn’t let fall. Being an obligation was bad enough, but she would suffer through that. What she wouldn’t do was become an object of pity. She’d seen pity in Paul’s eyes when she’d broken down in the kitchen. She’d wanted to jerk away from his hand, but his gentle touch had left her paralyzed.
She forced herself to face the truth. She hadn’t wanted to move. She’d dreamed of that type of interaction for a long time. She’d wanted him to touch her in a way that wasn’t purely clinical. Sometimes she felt like her illness had taken away all of her sex appeal, that cancer had removed all that was feminine in her, leaving behind the shell of the woman she’d once been.
When she’d finally felt his hands on her, she’d wanted to lean against him and breathe him in until all of her troubles faded away. That would have been a mistake, so she’d made herself pull away. She wasn’t going to get reality tangled up with her hopes and wishes. Life wasn’t a fairy tale. She didn’t have a fairy godmother who could fix Roz’s life with the wave of a magic wand. Paul wasn’t going to magica
lly fall in love with her. They weren’t going to live happily ever after.
She blew out a pent-up breath and stood. Stressful days often made it hard for her to sleep. One thing that never failed to relax her was a nice bubble bath followed by a mug of chamomile tea. Since she’d been ill, she’d settled for quick baths and even quicker showers. Tonight she was going to pamper herself.
She grabbed her phone and turned on her playlist, letting her favorite classical piano solos fill the air. Next, she placed candles around the bathroom and lit them. As she filled the tub, she added her favorite rose bath oil. She inhaled the scent and the tension began to melt from her body. She stripped quickly, then sank into the warm water, sliding down until she was nearly submerged. Blowing out a breath, she let the flickering candlelight, the soothing music and the sweet aroma of roses transport her to a happier place and time. A time when all was right in her world. Of course, that time was mostly a figment of her imagination, but right now she didn’t care.
Roz soaked until the water cooled, then quickly washed up. It wasn’t until she was wrapped in a towel that she realized she hadn’t brought a stitch of clothing into the bathroom. She’d been so eager to escape her worries that she’d left her robe hanging on a hook on her bedroom door. For a fleeting second, she considered grabbing her dirty clothes from the hamper and putting them on again, but what sense did that make?
And who was she hiding from? The kids were asleep and Paul was in his room. And if he came out? So what? What would it matter? He practically looked through her anyway. He’d made it plain from day one that she’d killed any romantic feelings he’d had for her. Besides, he had no reason to come out of his room. She opened the bathroom door, stepped into the hallway and bumped right into him.
“Roz.” His voice was low and raspy, sending shivers down her spine. His eyes skimmed her body, making her realize just how small the light blue terry cloth rectangle actually was. She wasn’t very tall, but the towel wasn’t very big and hit her midthigh, revealing most of her legs.
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