Georgiana twisted away. “No!”
Amber lifted her hands, palms out. “Okay, that’s fine. Just trying to help.” She glanced over toward Paul, but he was now talking to Ferguson in a low voice. He’d put Davey down, and Davey was rolling a ball for Sarge, who rushed to grab it and bring it back to his young master in a display of energy Amber had never seen in him before.
Sarge must have been worried about Davey, too.
Georgiana cleared her throat. “I guess you know the truth about Davey’s father,” she said, her voice low and choked.
Amber felt like a deer in headlights. She didn’t want to collaborate with this woman, didn’t want to be on her side against Paul. But Georgiana was right: she did know the truth, or some of it, the part Wendy had told her in confidence.
“We took Davey to...to his real father. He’s a wealthy man, from our community. We were thinking he might want to help us raise Davey in the way...well, anyway. It didn’t work.” Her shoulders heaved. “It turns out he knew about Davey all along. He wants nothing to do with him.”
Amber stared, her jaw dropping. How could anyone look at their own son without wanting to know him, be involved? “That’s awful!”
Georgiana nodded. “He’s married with a child and another on the way. He doesn’t want his family to find out about Davey.”
“Wow.” Amber shook her head back and forth, slowly. She couldn’t fathom it, and from Georgiana’s reaction, she couldn’t, either. It was one thing they agreed on.
“He says Davey isn’t his problem.” Georgiana put her face into her hands and then looked up at Amber. “So it’s best that we just let things stay the way they are.”
“Stay the way... Don’t you think Paul deserves to know?” Amber felt almost dizzy with all the information, all the secrets swirling around.
“If he knew, he’d reject Davey, and then what?” Georgiana’s voice was low and urgent. “We love the child, of course, and for a time we thought we wanted custody, but today has made us realize we’re not equipped to care for him. He’s getting bigger, more energetic. We’ll be so old by the time he’s a teenager.”
Amber blew out a sigh. She had no idea what to do.
Paul was walking toward them now, Ferguson in his wake. Davey lay relaxed against Paul’s shoulder. “I’d like to hear your side. What happened?” he asked Georgiana.
Ferguson hurried after him. “We were truly just taking him out to get ice cream, but on the way there, we changed our minds and brought him here.”
“That’s right.” Georgiana jumped in too readily, and it seemed like this was a story they’d rehearsed. “We knew we were neglectful, letting Davey drive off down the beach, and that woman saw.” She nodded at Amber. “I thought you probably wouldn’t allow us to see him anymore.”
Paul tilted his head to one side. “You know that wasn’t a real logical thing to do, right?”
Ferguson opened his mouth as if to protest and then closed it again. “You’re right.”
Paul frowned, looking at the ground, obviously thinking.
It was something Amber admired about him: he was deliberate and careful. He couldn’t be rushed into a rash decision.
Finally, he lifted his head and looked steadily at Georgiana, then at Ferguson. “I want the two of you to get some counseling before you see Davey again,” he said.
Ferguson opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it and nodded. “I’m not much for counseling, but it’s probably smart. We made a mistake, Paul.”
“Yes, you did.”
“We need to get Davey home,” Amber said, because her head was spinning. And then a feeling of warmth and nausea came over her. Light-headed, she sat down abruptly. Everything around her turned gray, and that was all she remembered.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MINUTES AFTER PAUL squealed into the hospital parking lot, as he was explaining Amber’s symptoms to the medics who were transferring her to a stretcher, Erica came rushing over to them. “I’m her sister,” she said breathlessly, and ran alongside as they rolled Amber inside.
Paul had called Mary while driving and she had gotten word out to the people who needed to know. Now, of course, Erica was allowed to go back into the treatment area with Amber. Paul watched her go, his heart pounding, and then lifted a drowsy Davey out of his car seat and carried him into the waiting area.
He’d never experienced anything quite like this with Wendy. Her symptoms had come on gradually, which meant that there was always plenty of time to get medical help. As bad as her last days had been, there had never been a real emergency.
But no two cancer cases were alike. His mind raced, thinking of all the things that might have caused her to pass out. Pressure on a vital organ. Internal bleeding. A metastasis to her heart or lungs.
Before he could spiral into horrible possibilities, he forced his attention back to the here and now. He had his son to care for, and he had to be here to help Amber in whatever way she needed. There would be plenty of time to worry and panic and grieve once they’d learned what was wrong.
Paul was getting Davey a snack from the vending machine when Mary and Hannah arrived. They all hugged, and Mary kept an arm around Hannah. “Tell us what happened, and then I’m sure Hannah can go back to see her mom.”
Mary was smart, trying to put off Hannah’s visit to her mom’s hospital room as long as possible. If there were something serious going on, it would be just as well if Hannah wasn’t there to witness the worst of it. Legally, she was an adult, but she was only eighteen. She looked awfully young as she stood, eyes wet, biting her lips.
“We were talking to Davey’s grandparents,” Paul explained. “Just standing in the driveway of their country house. All of a sudden, Amber sat down on the ground and then she passed out.”
“She fell over on her side, like this!” Davey sat down and toppled over to the side just as Amber had done.
“That’s what happened? Did she hit her head?” Hannah stopped fidgeting. She even pulled out her phone and checked it before looking back at Paul.
“No, she didn’t hit her head,” Paul said.
“Daddy ran over and caught her, like this!” Davey ran halfway down the row of chairs and then slid on his knees the rest of the way. Which, indeed, was how Paul had caught Amber. He had the torn patches on the knees of his jeans to prove it.
“It’s probably just the fainting thing from her accident,” Hannah said. She wiped a smear of mascara from underneath her eye, using her phone’s camera as a mirror.
“It’s happened before?” Paul remembered now, that Amber had mentioned a horse-riding accident. Maybe she’d even said something about fainting spells.
Hannah nodded. “A couple of times, and it scares me to death every time. You always worry that it’s related to her cancer, but it isn’t.”
Relief coursed over Paul. “Maybe I overreacted.” Nothing would make him happier. The sight of Amber unconscious on the ground had aged him ten years.
“You were right to bring her here,” Mary said. “Hannah, why don’t you go try to see your mom. I bet they’ll let you in if you just ask them in your sweet way. Paul and I will take Davey to the playroom.” She gestured toward the other side of the lobby, where Paul now saw there was a glassed-in play area for kids.
“Good idea, since he’s wide-awake now.” It was way past Davey’s bedtime, and he’d sleep for hours once he’d settled, but right now he was overexcited. Some physical play would do him good.
They took some water out to Sarge, who was sleeping in the back seat of Paul’s car, and then came back in and headed for the children’s area, and Paul grabbed antiseptic wipes from the dispenser by the door. He started wiping down the toys he thought would be the most appealing to Davey. But it was a losing battle because Davey moved from toy to toy at lightning speed. The poor kid was exhausted and upset, and Paul cou
ldn’t blame him. Paul was exhausted and upset, too. He tossed the handful of wipes into the trash.
Mary sat down on a bench that ran along the wall and smiled at him. “Try as you will, you can’t control germs, any more than you can control life. You’ve had quite the day, haven’t you?”
Mary didn’t know the half of it. After the fireworks episode last night, and waking up with a woman he barely knew sleeping in his house, he had gone to the PTSD workshop. He had come home to find his child missing, had had a major confrontation with his in-laws and now this scare with Amber.
He watched Davey run a truck across the room and back, making engine noises. Of course, it was a truck he hadn’t wiped down. “It’s true, I can’t control much. But I still have to do my best to protect my son.”
Something that looked like pain flashed across Mary’s face and then was gone. “You absolutely do have to protect your son. That’s your biggest priority.”
He sat beside her. “The trouble is,” he said, keeping his voice low enough that Davey couldn’t hear them, “protecting my son means keeping him from getting attached to someone who’s got health problems that could take her away from him.”
“Amber.”
He nodded. “When she passed out today, and I had to rush her here, he was upset. He already cares for her, a lot.”
“Yes, well, emotions are tough to tamp down,” Mary said. They sat and watched Davey play for a few minutes more. He was climbing up a slide and sliding down it, but he was moving slower each time. He kept rubbing his eyes.
“Want a distraction?” Mary asked, her eyes twinkling.
“Sure. I could use one.”
Mary pulled out her phone. “Look at my new family member,” she said, and showed him a picture of a cute brown-and-white puppy with a drooping head and sad eyes.
Just looking at it made him smile, and he remembered how often he’d heard, in counseling sessions and workshops, about the healing power of animals. He nodded as Mary showed him another picture, this one of the puppy lying on its back. “Cute, but, man, you’re going to be busy.”
Mary nodded, rolling her eyes. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“You probably need to get home to your dog.” He felt bad that he hadn’t considered that Mary might have other things going on in her life.
“I’ll go home soon,” she said. “But I blame Kirk James for talking me into it, and so it only seems right that he’s got puppy duty now.”
“Definitely seems fair. Hey, Davey, come see Miss Mary’s new puppy,” he called, and Davey ran over to them.
Mary showed him the picture.
Davey smiled. “Maybe he can come play with Sarge sometime,” he said.
Mary nodded promptly. “She’s a girl, and yes. When she’s a little bigger, she’ll need someone to teach her the rules of being a dog.”
Davey leaned against Paul’s leg while Mary thumbed through more pictures of the puppy, and he yawned hugely.
Mary smiled down at Davey. “Speaking of Sarge, you and your dad should probably get home and put him to bed.”
“Good idea,” Paul said.
Mary stood. “I’m going to stop in and see if I can see Amber, and then I’ll be heading home to my pup, too.”
Paul knew she was right, and that he should go home. Had to go home because he had to tend to Sarge and get Davey settled down. But he hated to leave without seeing Amber. The sight of her passed out, pale and unresponsive, had done a number on him.
“I got something for Miss Amber.” Davey reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crusty brown lump. He held it out to Mary.
To her credit, she accepted it immediately. “What’s this?”
“It’s magical,” Davey explained. “It goes deep in the dark ground and turns into a real live flower.”
“A bulb,” Mary and Paul said at the same time.
“Is that from when you helped Miss Amber plant them?” Paul wondered whether it had gone through the washing machine a few times, or whether this pair of jeans had really not been washed for a month.
Davey nodded, and then two lines appeared between his eyebrows, a sign that he was thinking hard. “Mommy went into the ground and she didn’t come up ’live. If Miss Amber goes into the ground, give her this so she can come out ’live.”
Mary let out a sound that was half sigh, half an “oh” of understanding. She glanced at Paul as her fingers closed around the brown lump. “Of course, I’ll give this to Miss Amber. You know, honey, she’s going to be fine.”
“Okay,” Davey said, nodding politely. But the lines between his brows remained.
Paul stood, picked up Davey and thanked Mary for all she had done. His voice remained steady through the whole thing, and he carried Davey easily. He didn’t fall apart, because he was a dad, and dads couldn’t fall apart. On the outside at least.
Inside was a different story. Paul was a wreck.
He should never have let Davey get so attached that he would put Amber into the same category as his mother.
Paul had failed to protect his son.
* * *
AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK Monday morning, Mary opened her front door and hurried down to greet Amber and her daughter, Hannah. After spending the night in observation in the hospital, Amber had been released, and she’d called to see if she could visit the new puppy on the way home while Hannah picked up a prescription for her. Mary had gotten the feeling Amber wanted a few minutes away from her overprotective daughter.
Mary helped Amber up the steps, Hannah holding her other arm. They walked her into the front room and got her seated on the couch.
“You don’t have to treat me like an invalid.” Amber sounded exasperated.
“Humor us,” Mary said. “And meet Coco,” she added. She picked the little puppy up out of the pen she’d improvised.
Both Amber and Hannah squealed and raved over how cute the dog was. “Can I hold her?” Hannah asked.
But Coco quavered, obviously terrified.
“We’d better keep our distance,” Amber said. “Let her get used to her new home for a little while.”
“I don’t know what happened to scare her,” Mary said, “but she seems to have a very timid personality. Or maybe it’s just the change from Goody’s place.”
Amber raised an eyebrow. “So you picked out the needy one, did you?”
“She was the only one left!” Mary protested. “Besides, Goody was ready to sell her to a pet store. When I saw how skittish she was, I knew that wouldn’t do.”
Hannah reached out a finger and ran it over the puppy’s soft coat. “Okay, I’m going to run over to the drugstore and pick up your meds. When I come back, Mom, we’re going home and you’re going to bed.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “You see what I’m dealing with here,” she said to Mary. “It took all my persuasive powers to be allowed to visit you for twenty minutes.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Mary said as Hannah disappeared out the door. She stroked the puppy in her lap. “So how are you doing today?”
“Not real happy.” Amber propped an elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her head on her hand. “Every time I get sick in a ‘normal’ way, people think I’m dying. It’s a bit of a weight to carry. No more than I deserve, I suppose, but I hate it.”
“So everything’s fine? They’re not worried about the fainting?”
Amber shook her head. “Nope, not worried. It’s from a horseback-riding accident I was in. Unrelated to the cancer.”
That still sounded a little scary, but Mary got what Amber meant. “People automatically assume that you’re having a recurrence, I guess. Probably including you.”
Amber nodded. “Whenever I get sick, I worry. Goes with the territory.”
“I’m sure.” Mary studied the younger woman. “You said somet
hing else. What do you mean, it’s no more than you deserve?”
Amber kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet up under herself. “I didn’t make very good choices as a younger woman. Didn’t really take care of myself. I didn’t think it mattered.”
The puppy wiggled in Mary’s lap, and she set it down to walk around the floor in its cute, clumsy way. “I hear that. I definitely have regrets about the past. They can be hard to shake.”
“Yeah. So now, I kind of wish—I really wish—that I had good health and could move forward in a new direction.”
“Like a direction of getting close to a certain man and boy?”
Amber’s mouth twisted to one side. “I guess it’s obvious.”
Mary saw the puppy start to squat. “Oh no you don’t!” She jumped up and grabbed it, then hurried toward the back door. “Emergency potty run,” she called over her shoulder. She was trying to take the puppy out every half hour or so to help her get house-trained. Last night, she’d barely slept between the puppy’s crying, and taking her outside, and googling for information on raising puppies.
Outside, she was rewarded by the puppy doing its business in the grass. “Whee, success!” she crowed to Amber, who had followed her.
“She’s going to be a great dog. I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy, too,” Mary said. She waved a hand toward Kirk’s house. “Kirk was right, after all. But where were we when we got interrupted?”
Amber lifted her hands, palms up. “I was complaining, feeling sorry for myself. No big deal.”
The poor woman was berating herself over something that clearly wasn’t her fault. “You know, Amber, sometimes we blame ourselves for things because it’s the only way we can feel like we have any control. At least, that’s what a fairly wise therapist said to me one time.” She knelt to pick up a stick, showed it to the puppy and then tossed it a few feet away.
The puppy ran after it and pounced, and they both laughed.
“Anyway,” Mary continued, “you’re not at fault for your cancer at all, nor for your fainting spells. And blaming yourself isn’t going to have an impact on your health. At least, not a positive one.”
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