Braden generally did what he was told. He didn't talk back. He objected to taking a bath most nights, but Mark didn't think that made him unique. He ate, slept—except for the nightmares that hit like clockwork—and watched TV like a normal kid. But Mark knew in his gut his child wasn't "normal."
Something had happened in Braden's short life that had left him traumatized. Considering Tracey's erratic behavior during their marriage—and her turbulent, high-drama relationship with her mother—the possibilities were endless. Mark had been a cop for four years before he'd switched to arson. He'd seen enough cases of child abuse to fear the worst.
Hell, Mark had lived through the worst himself. The son of an alcoholic father and codependent mother, Mark had found himself on the receiving end of many a beating.
"You're a total screwup," his father would shout. “You’re never gonna amount to nothin’.” But Mark had joined the police academy, found a mentor who believed in him, and had eventually moved to Las Vegas and met Alexa.
Then, he'd blown it. How his old man would have laughed if he hadn't managed to fall asleep with a burning cigarette and set fire to the house, killing himself and Mark's mother.
After Mark and Alexa had broken up, he'd married Tracey in a quick civil ceremony. A few months later, he'd taken the necessary tests to become a fireman. He'd changed jobs so Tracey's position in the department wouldn't be in conflict after she came back from maternity leave—and maybe to some degree because of what had happened to his parents. Serendipitously, he'd discovered his true calling—arson investigation.
Unfortunately, Tracey's life hadn't gone so well. Trouble at work, trouble keeping a qualified babysitter, trouble with her mother, trouble with her marriage. Tracey had sunk into a depression, and nothing Mark said or did seemed to help.
Mark loved his son, but any tender feelings he'd tried to coax to life for Tracey had died before their son was a year old. At some level, Mark had known that she'd sensed his ambivalence about their marriage, and she'd blamed Alexa for it. Her anger slowly poisoned her whole life. An altercation with a junkie during an arrest brought her under scrutiny for excessive use of force. She probably would have been kicked off the force in disgrace if she hadn't been injured in the scuffle. Chronic pain may have added to her need for alcohol and street drugs.
Mark was still picking up the pieces of the wreck he'd made of his life. The only good thing to come of his mistake was Braden, but at the moment, he felt very close to losing his son. His gut told him Alexa Parlier—dauntless advocate of children, and the kindest, most loving person he'd ever known—was his last hope.
Chapter 3
"Please tell me you're joking," Kate said at the weekly gathering of sisters. Kate and Liz—Grace sometimes joined them by video chat from Detroit, but hadn't called that morning—were already seated at their mother's kitchen table when Alexa arrived.
She'd gotten off to a bad start when her newest hire had called in sick. Fortunately, a substitute aide had been available to fill in.
This would cost Alexa extra, but she'd pay it gladly. Today was the day Mark was bringing his son to her school. A fact that she'd just shared with her sisters.
"Are we talking the same Mark who broke your heart?" Kate didn’t take cheating lightly.
Alexa made a face. 'That's ancient history. And it's not as if I'm enrolling Mark. After-school care only. I think I can handle that.. .if his little boy likes it here."
"What's not to like?" Liz asked. "Every kid I know loves the Hippo."
Alexa smiled her thanks. "Mark's son has some special needs. His name is Braden, by the way. He sounds... wounded. Poor little guy. His mother is dead, you know."
"Dead?" Liz croaked, nearly choking on a sip of tea. "I hadn't heard that. How?"
Alexa shrugged. "I didn't ask for details. Mark seemed...I don't know, defeated. Really not the way I remember him."
The old Mark, the man she'd fallen in love with the first time they'd met at a New Year's Eve party at Sam's Town Casino when he and a couple of buddies had crashed her family's party, had been brash and edgy and so handsome he could have been a model. Her first thought had been: with that coloring he could be Romani. But he wasn't. Worse, he was a cop. A fact that had become an issue between Alexa and her father.
Changing the subject, she looked at Kate. "Mom said Romantique is booked solid through the holidays. That's great. Are we still doing the charity dinner on Christmas Day?"
Kate nodded, her curly hair fluttering in a freestyle mess that made her look waif-like. "Unless I collapse first. Was I this tired when I was living at home?"
Liz grinned. "You didn't have a husband when you lived here, but it's not too late to come back. Reezira and Lydia aren't moving in until next weekend."
Since Liz had a new roommate—Paul, her fiancé—the two young Romanian women had decided it was time to strike out on their own. When Yetta had offered to let them rent Kate's and Maya's former rooms, they'd jumped at the chance.
Kate looked toward the hallway as if missing her old sanctuary. "Are they excited?"
"Delirious," Liz said. "They're convinced Vegas is way hipper than Henderson. Plus, Alexa has promised them extra work at the Hippo any time the tea business is slow."
"Don't they need credentials to work in child-care?"
"I can always use a hand making snacks, handling the sign-in desk and prepping for art projects. I keep dreaming of finding someone like Jo, who will step in and handle things when I need a day off."
Kate's mother-in-law had gone through a difficult period health-wise that had included a misdiagnosis of lung cancer, but she was on the mend now and fully committed to the restaurant.
Kate nodded in agreement. "Jo is a gift. That's for sure. And once we get the paperwork side of things covered, I'll be able to breathe again."
Alexa was about to ask about their new bookkeeper—she was thinking about hiring some part-time clerical help herself—when Kate sighed and said, “That is if I can get Maya back on track. Why didn't anyone warn me about the terrible fives?"
Kate’s adorable daughter was turning five in February.
"She can't help it that she's an adult trapped in a child's body," Alexa said with a chuckle. "Have you broken the news that she's going to a new school after the first of the year?"
Kate stood up and started to pace. "We drove by it on Friday after I picked her up at the Hippo. She called it an Ugly Duckling school and flat-out refuses to go."
“Change is tough at that age.” Or any age. She wondered what kind of changes a seven-year-old boy would bring to the Hippo’s dynamic.
Mark had called the night before and left a message, confirming that he'd be bringing his son in today. His voice had the power to transport her back to an earlier time in her life. A glorious, hopeful time when she'd been blissfully in love. Until the day Mark had shown up and couldn't look her in the eye. Her gypsy ESP had known immediately that something bad had happened. Even before he could confess, she'd seen the shadow of another woman draped around him. Blond. Curvaceous. Sexy.
"You were with Tracey," Alexa had charged.
He hadn't bothered to deny it. But he'd pleaded with her to give him another chance. At the time, Alexa had been too hurt to consider reconciliation, and when she'd finally cooled down enough to talk to him without crying, he'd told her there was a baby on the way.
"I'd take back that night with my soul, if I could," Mark had told her—just days before his scheduled wedding to Tracey.
"If you had one," Alexa had cried, wishing she could hurt him as much as he'd hurt her.
"Alexandra."
Alexa looked up at her mother's voice. Yetta had entered the kitchen through the door that opened into the garage. She was in the process of hanging up her coat, and from the concerned look on her face must have said Alexa's name more than once.
“Oh, hi, Mom. I thought you were at the cemetery."
"That was yesterday. Are you feeling okay?"
; Alexa felt her cheeks heat up. The last thing she wanted was for someone to bring up her health issues. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind. You know how the holidays are."
"Which parents are volunteering today?" Liz asked. "Not Mrs. Moorehouse, I hope."
A slight twinge in her stomach made Alexa shift in her seat. Parents who volunteered to help a certain number of hours each month received a reduced rate for their child's fee. Roberta Moorehouse was a beautiful woman who seemed to be vying for the title of CEO of motherhood. Her intensity wore Alexa down faster than twenty kids on a sugar high.
'The Moorehouse family went back east for Thanksgiving. Roberta offered to come in twice next week to make up.”
Her sisters looked at each other and snickered.
"Will Mark volunteer?" Liz asked.
Alexa hadn't considered that possibility. "I don't know. He hasn't even enrolled his son, yet. Besides, the fee schedule is different for after-school students. Are we having breakfast?"
After sharing a skillet of scrambled eggs, the three sisters went their separate ways, with Yetta accompanying Alexa down the street to her house. They cut through the back gate to her private entrance. French doors led to her suite, which included a sitting room, kitchenette and large bath. The rest of the house—except for the small guest room that doubled as an office—was devoted to the Dancing Hippo, but the studio apartment in the back was Alexa's personal domain.
"Alexandra, I'm worried about you," her mother said before Alexa could open the door. "You've been in my dreams lately. Something is shifting in your life, but I can't tell if the change is for the good. How is your health?"
Alexa rested her shoulder against the stucco. Car engines and children's laughter coming from the street told her it was almost time to become Miss Alexa. Miss Alexa didn't have time for Gypsy mysticism—that was Grace's thing.
"Mom, the holidays are coming. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, the solstice—one major art project after another. Before you know it, we'll be celebrating Cinco de Mayo again. I don't have time to be sick, so I won't. Period."
Her mother smiled, but the concern she’d expressed didn’t leave her eyes. "Does that mean you're still going through with your plan?”
Like any good mother, Yetta fretted when her child was in pain. Alexa's experience with recurrent ovarian cysts six years earlier had given them both a lot to worry about. Because the monthly agony had sent her to bed with strong drugs and a heating pad, Alexa had gone along with her doctor's suggestion that she have laparoscopic surgery to remove the seven-centimeter paratubal cyst that had been plaguing her.
Unfortunately, the benign procedure had wound up costing Alexa a small fortune when she'd developed a post-surgical infection. She'd been forced to return to the hospital for ten days of around-the-clock IV antibiotics, followed by several more weeks of out-patient treatment to pack and drain the inflamed incision. There had been talk of cosmetic surgery to fix the scar on her belly, but Alexa had had enough of doctors and hospitals.
Since that time, she'd been taking high-dosage birth control pills to prevent ovulation. Current medical belief held that you could prevent the formation of cysts by keeping the ovaries from functioning. Only Yetta knew that Alexa recently had stopped taking the Pill.
"Mom, we've been through this. I've weighed the benefits against the risks. I hate dumping all those hormones into my body every month. With luck, we'll discover that my body is over that phase where it needed to grow annoying little cysts every month."
"I'm meddling, dear, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's the mother in me."
A twisting sensation in her gut—very close to her ovaries—made Alexa wince. She hadn't told anyone—even her mother—the other reason she'd stopped taking birth control pills.
Yetta opened the door and walked inside. "Did you have a particular story you wanted me to read this morning?"
Her mother occasionally filled in for Alexa during the opening group session so Alexa could catch up on paperwork. The children loved Yetta's stories and songs. So had Alexa as a child. Yetta was a wonderful mother. Alexa hoped she'd be equally as good—sooner rather than later.
The day disappeared in a blur. The usual runny noses and students who needed snuggling. One or two issues with glue during the construction paper—wreath art project. One bounced check and a tearfully contrite mom whose ex was late with child support. Not an uncommon story.
Alexa hadn't given up on the idea of marriage and being half of a two-parent family. After all, her sisters each seemed to have found her ideal mate, but some days, after listening to three or four successive matrimonial horror stories, she couldn't help but fear that her elusive Mr. Right was lost on some mysterious island.
And she was tired of waiting. She'd stopped taking her prescribed birth-control pills not because of a fear of cancer, but because she wanted to have a baby.
Liz and Paul were talking about adopting a child from India. It wouldn't be long before Grace started nesting, and Kate's new husband had openly expressed a desire to give Maya a baby brother or sister sooner rather than later.
With no potential mate on the horizon, Alexa had decided she had to take matters into her own hands. Her doctor felt there was no reason why Alexa's one healthy ovary couldn't provide a viable egg, which could be artificially inseminated.
Now, it’s just a matter of picking the right donor. She studied the list of bios on her computer screen, shooting for a top-ten list from which she’d try to make her final selection tonight.
"Knock, knock," a deep voice called from the doorway.
Alexa glanced up from her computer. The cheerful rainbow that framed the opening was a visual oxymoron to the pitch black sky of late November that provided the backdrop for the man standing there. He was dressed all in black, too.
"Come in," she said, quickly exiting the site.
She stood up and walked around her desk so she could see the youngster at his side.
Practically swallowed up by a red down jacket, knitted cap and gloves, the boy seemed smaller than most seven-year-olds she’d met. He’s like a toddler mannequin wearing big-kid clothes.
His chin remained squished to his chest as she approached. "Welcome to the Dancing Hippo, Braden," she said. "It's nice and cozy in here. You can hang your coat on any of those pegs over there." She pointed toward the small anteroom her students called Cubbyland.
She waited to see if he would do as she requested or not. He didn't budge until his father took his shoulders between his large hands and gently, but firmly, maneuvered Braden toward the cheerfully painted nook where each child had a wooden cubicle and hook. Above each box was a frame that held a sample of the student's art.
Braden stumbled slightly as he looked around. He removed his mittens and dropped them on the floor. His coat pooled at his feet, and he made no attempt to hang it up. He didn't seem to notice that he still had his cap pulled low around his forehead, completely covering his hair and eyebrows.
The red hat made his eyes stand out. Big and blue like his mother's. The thick black lashes were Mark's contribution, Alexa guessed. At first glance, Braden didn't look much like Mark, but she thought she detected certain similarities in his frame and the cast of his jaw.
"I'm so glad to meet you, Braden. My name is Miss Alexa. Would you like to sit down or look around?" Two choices. Nice and simple.
He looked at his father for guidance.
"Let's sit a minute, bud. I don't know about you, but I'm pooped."
She pointed to the center of the sunshine-yellow rug that served as the meeting circle for group activities. Alexa took her usual place atop a purple hippopotamus-shaped pillow. Mark sat a few feet away at the three-o'clock position. Braden either didn't see or didn't care about the line. He sat down slightly in front of his father.
Alexa folded her hands in her lap. "So, Braden, how old are you?"
He didn't acknowledge the question.
"You know how old you are, Bray. Tell her."
&nb
sp; Braden kept his focus on his shoes, but Alexa had a feeling he was also looking at her. She found this encouraging and smiled at Mark. "Maybe Braden would like to do one of my puzzles." She stood up. "I have a really cool one at the table over by my desk. Will you come with me, Braden?"
She squatted beside him and offered her hand. The little boy took it without looking up. She led him to the table and set him up with a large, bright barnyard-animal puzzle. The corresponding animal made a sound when the correct piece was placed in position.
An overly simple puzzle for a seven-year-old, but Braden didn't make any attempt to solve it. In fact, he jumped slightly when Alexa put in a piece and the donkey brayed.
Yep, his hearing works fine.
"Is he taking any medication?" she asked Mark, who had followed them to the table but hadn't sat down.
"Not at the moment."
Alexa leaned over and picked up the piece shaped like a cow. "What animal is this, Braden? Is it a horse?"
His lips twitched slightly. Maya would have rolled her eyes and said, "You're silly, Auntie Alexa. That's a cow."
Braden didn't speak, but he did look at Alexa for the first time. "What sound does a cow make, Braden? Does it moo? I bet you knew that."
His blue eyes fairly twinkled until his father sat down across from them. Even though Mark looked sort of silly with his knees pushed almost to his chest, Braden didn't smile.
"His speech therapist gives him flash cards to practice at night, but we aren't having much luck with them, are we, son?”
"Ask his teacher to make sure they're in his backpack when he leaves school. If I have time, I'd be happy to try them."
Mark had been hoping she'd say that. He was certain he didn't have the patience or skills to help his son. Hell, his bumbling attempts to coax Braden into speaking might even have made the boy's stutter worse.
"This is a nice place, Alexa. Looks a lot different than I remember from when... " He stopped. She probably didn't need to be reminded that they'd first made an offer on this house as an engaged couple.
A Match Made In Vegas Page 3
