by Kay Stockham
Get off your high horse. You know what she means.
That she did. When she’d done the pageant circuit, it was expected that the participants have certain brands of clothing, a certain style. This was no different. “We, um, don’t have a lot of time. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll find what we need.”
“Oh, nonsense, dear. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ve taken the liberty of gathering some things together for Simon already. Just follow me.”
I can’t wait. Megan’s eye twitched when she spotted a glittery sea of pageant gowns, prom gowns and winter dance numbers up ahead. Those were followed by leotards, dance, tap and ballet shoes.
The portion of stock dedicated to boys was in the back of the store and after meandering around the racks rather than taking the direct path, they finally made it.
“Here we are. We have just the things for you, little man.”
The curtained dressing room was spacious, with three mirrors and a bench. Already hanging on hooks were half a dozen jeans and shirts, flannel pajamas, two black suits, a tuxedo, a brown suit and at least six dress shirts. Surely Mrs. Stouts didn’t expect Simon to try on all of that?
Simon stared up at Megan, his expression pleading for them to turn and bolt. So with ya, kid.
Megan let go of his hand and knelt down beside him, her voice low as she told him in French, “The sooner we do this, the sooner we leave. Once we’re finished we’ll go home and do something very special, okay?”
“Oh! You speak French! Oh, my word, what a find Dr. Tulane has in you! Why, wait until I tell my friend Doris. She’s been looking for someone to tutor her daughter in French. There’s this song she wants to sing in Beauty’s Winterfest pageant and—”
“I’m not a tutor.” She gave Simon a reassuring wink and straightened. “I’m just visiting my family and helping out with Simon.”
“Oh, but—Rose,” the woman said abruptly, her gaze narrowing like a bargain shopper in sight of sales. “Wasn’t that the name of the woman Dr. Tulane’s brother married? Nick? He dated my daughter a time or two. She was runner-up in the Miss Tennessee Pageant.”
“How nice.” They were never going to get out of here at this rate.
“Yes, it was. There’s her picture, there on the wall.” She pointed to a framed photo of a woman with big hair and enough eye makeup to make a clown jealous. Megan so didn’t miss those days.
“Oh, now who was that girl he married? Julie or Jenna—Jennifer! That’s it, Jennifer Rose, the teacher. I remember seeing it in the paper.” The woman sniffed. “She bought her gown in Nashville. My Amanda was working in the shop with me then. Mandy’s so pretty, I think she intimidates the customers.”
Just pick something. Simon can try it on later. “What’s your return policy?”
“Probably intimidated that girl he married, too, not that I could blame her. My Mandy would be a hard act to follow.” The woman looked her up and down. “You’re related? Cousins, perhaps?”
“Jenn’s my little sister.”
“Your sister? Really? And younger, too,” she murmured with a frown. “Imagine that. Oh, honey, don’t get me wrong, but I remember your sister before she lost weight. Not to be mean, but—well, everyone wondered why Nick chose her.”
Megan realized this was one of those times when somebody was watching. God, Candid Camera, Grandma Lucy, who’d always told her and Jenn to not say anything at all if they couldn’t say something nice. That feeling of being watched earlier? This was why. Somebody somewhere was waiting to see if Megan ripped Mrs. Stouts a new one. “Maybe Nick chose her because Jenn is a kind, generous and loving person, and he’s in love with her.”
Megan was about to give herself a pat on the back for making Grandma Lucy smile down on her from Heaven when Mrs. Stouts made a face. One of those pretend-to-be-nice-but-really-a-shark faces women like her so often wore.
“All I’m saying is that there is quite a difference. I mean, look at you. You’re beautiful.”
Meaning Jenn wasn’t? That stinking knot in her stomach burned. At this rate she’d have an ulcer. Was this what Jenn had dealt with growing up? Their father had always made comments to them about each other, played them off one another to divert attention from himself and his exploits with his flavor of the moment, but she’d never given much thought to whether or not outsiders compared them. “I think Jenn is beautiful. She has the most fabulous hourglass figure and perfect skin.”
Mrs. Stouts finally seemed to wise up to the fact that Megan wasn’t going to tear Jenn down or talk about her behind her back. Another star in your crown, Megs.
“Oh, pay me no mind. It’s just that you’re so thin and, well, I’ve heard Nick keeps Jennifer on a strict diet. I feel sorry for the poor girl.”
What? Megan was about to grab Simon’s hand and head for the door out of sheer frustration, knowing full well Ethan wouldn’t mind her not buying clothes for Simon here because of the gossip’s focus being on a member of his family, but instead she lifted a hand and indicated the curtain. “Could we have some privacy, please?”
“Of course.”
She pulled the material into place and took a deep breath, knowing the woman hadn’t budged an inch. “A diet, you say?”
“Oh, yes. How do you think she’s lost all that weight?”
All that weight? Megan froze in the act of settling Simon on the bench in preparation for unlacing his shoes.
“Everyone’s seen how he has her doing that power walking and working out in the gym. I heard she even fainted once because he was pushing her so hard on an exercise bike. Mandy said he was like that when they dated. She wanted him to do some things with his family, but instead he’d go work out like something possessed.”
Kind of like Ethan’s cleaning? She’d honestly thought Ethan employed a housekeeper the first week she was there, but now she knew he didn’t. He was the one scrubbing away at all hours of the night. How many times had she gone to bed thinking she’d straighten up in the morning only to find it done—regardless of what time Ethan had gotten home? The dirt tracked in from making mud pies, the towels and toys.
Megan gripped Simon’s ankle so tight, the boy squirmed and pulled away from her. “Sorry, sugar.” She rubbed his ankle to soothe it then set to work on the other shoe.
Cleaning was one thing, but Nick had another think coming if he thought he’d get away with treating Jenn like his personal diet pet. “She actually passed out?”
“Yes. Right there in the middle of the gym. Folks said he had his head down and was nose to nose with her, saying awful things and glaring at her. But, now, I’m not a gossip.”
“Of course not,” Megan said softly, playing along because she had to know what was going on but glad she was behind the curtain and Mrs. Stouts couldn’t see her face. “I’m her sister. I need to know these things and I appreciate your confiding in me.”
Was Jenn in trouble? Did Nick have control issues like Sean? What kind of family had her baby sister married into? Oh, Jenn. What did Dad do to us?
“That’s true. Family is family. Don’t say I told you this but I heard…”
ETHAN HURRIED DOWN the hospital hallway, his thoughts on Megan. What were she and Simon doing now? Had they gone shopping? Was Megan having fun picking things out for Simon? He should have told her to get a sweater or something for herself, even though she probably would have bristled like a porcupine. He’d never known a woman to be so hard to read. Sometimes she was flirtatious, sometimes leery, sometimes happy then wary.
He knew it had to do with her past but it made her moods hard to decipher, much less follow. He’d never lived with a woman, never wanted to, but he was more than a little fascinated by everything Megan did.
Ethan glanced at his watch and swore. Late for yet another meeting. When had life become all about paperwork and meetings? Turning a corner, he ran smack into his brother Garret. “Sorry.”
“Where’s the fire?”
Ethan glanced arou
nd and lowered his voice. “Apparently up the new administrative chief of staff’s ass. I was headed to surgery and had to find someone to cover for me because Gibson has decided we need to meet to discuss some new policy. You know, ever since you left, that joker has been pulling power trips.”
“And now as interim chief, you get to deal with them.” Garret smirked. “When Harry was the hospital’s president he pulled his power trips on me, but I was nice enough not to pass them on.”
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. How lucky I’m the one with two new guys who like to spread the wealth. You know, you could come back and settle things down. You’d be welcomed with open arms.” Ethan continued walking down the corridor and Garret fell into step beside him.
“Not a chance. I’m happy sharing office space with Tobe,” Garret said, referring to his law practice with his friend Tobias Richardson. “How’s Simon?”
Ethan checked the time and frowned. Late was late. “I don’t know how you do this parent thing. I can’t imagine diapers and midnight feedings with a kid who can’t tell you what she wants. It’s bad enough with a five-year-old who refuses to tell you.”
“He’ll come around once he gets used to you. And you’ll get used to him and be able to read his moods. But you’d better not get into the habit of missing Simon’s games or else you’re going to have Mom and Dad both coming down on you. You owe Nick, by the way. Anytime Dad brought up your absence, Nick changed the subject and got him going on something else.”
Thank God. Now that Alan Tulane was considering retirement, he was constantly giving his children lectures on the things he’d done wrong when they were growing up. Their father was bound and determined his children wouldn’t make the same mistakes he had. “What was said about Megan?”
“A lot. She sat on the sidelines instead of with us in the stands, but Jenn told Darcy you’d be lucky if you weren’t robbed blind and left tied to the bed. Hate to tell you this, but Mom heard.”
“Crap.”
“So what’s Megan’s story? I’ve heard bits and pieces. What’s your take?”
“She sincerely wants to make things up with Jenn, but Jenn doesn’t trust her.”
“And you do?”
He thought about that a moment then nodded firmly. “I wouldn’t leave Simon with her if I didn’t. Simon loves her and after everything the kid’s been through he’s a great judge of character.”
Garret accepted that with a nod. “So, does that mean you and Megan are playing doctor?”
Ethan stopped so abruptly Garret took two more steps before he realized Ethan wasn’t beside him. “She’s Jenn’s sister and my son’s nanny.”
“So? Wait a minute…. Are you?”
The thought alone sent his blood pressure into orbit. “Of course not. She’s helping me out with Simon because I gave her a place to stay when Jenn wouldn’t.” But something didn’t ring true about his denial and Garret picked up on it by the way he raised his eyebrow.
Ethan blamed the thongs. He’d done a load of laundry and found one of Megan’s thongs left behind in the dryer. Skimpy and black; he’d had a hard time getting the image of her wearing it out of his head. And after holding her in his arms, his restraint was wearing thin.
Going home was a pleasure. The way the house smelled when he opened the door, like Megan’s perfume and whatever she’d fixed for dinner. He liked how they’d put Simon to bed, and then Megan would crash on the couch and watch television while he plowed through the mountains of paperwork that never ended. It was nice. Nicer than he’d ever thought it could be, even though he went to bed and stared at the ceiling thinking of thongs and belly piercings and how good she’d taste. He’d had offers, too. Hospitals were a regular soap opera when it came to sex and hooking up, but not a single woman there appealed the way Megan did.
“So what exactly happened between her and Jenn?”
Ethan exhaled in a rush and wondered how he could explain then wanted to smack himself in the head for his lapse in thinking. If anyone would understand, it was Garret since his best friend and partner was now married to Garret’s former girlfriend. Ethan gave Garret the two-second version and waited for the words to sink in.
His brother’s frown deepened at the convoluted story. “What does Nick say about it?”
“Dunno. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to talk to him again. But I think it’s going to take all of us to figure out a way of getting Megan and Jenn back on good terms. It’s only fair, seeing as how Jenn brought Nick back.”
“Only fair, huh?” Garret clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “And if we get them on good terms, it wouldn’t be such a problem having Megan around, would it?”
Garret had always had a way of reading between the lines—usually correctly, too. “Simon says he likes her. It might be nice if Megan could stick around.”
Garret smirked and shoved Ethan onto the now-empty elevator. “Simon says, huh? You know, the ones in denial usually fall the hardest.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“COME ON, ONE MORE CUP. Do it just like I did.” Megan indicated the newly purchased bag of all-purpose flour with a wave of her hand. After clothes shopping they’d stopped by the grocery because Ethan’s kitchen had contained all the necessary ingredients to make a special memory, except for one.
Ethan didn’t want Simon playing in the dirt for fear of bad memories, so why not make good ones? Besides, stopping had given her a chance to buy a box of hair color. Her roots were in serious need of a touch-up.
Simon shook his head.
“Come on, why not?”
Simon stared at her with his big brown eyes, silent. Afraid?
She sighed and dipped into the bag for another scoop. “Three,” she said, pointing to the flour in the mixing bowl. “Four.” She poured the cup of flour on top of the rest. A batch of cookies for them—and one for Jenn? Cookies were a nice icebreaker. Maybe they’d get her in the door long enough to find out if Nick was emotionally or physically abusive. She had to know.
Mrs. Stouts had spent the entire hour standing outside the changing room. She’d filled Megan in on every snippet of gossip she’d heard regarding Jenn and Nick, including Nick’s dropping out of high school. Megan never would have pictured her straight-A, gotta-graduate-at-the-top-of-my-class sister with a dropout but then, who knew what other people thought?
By the time Megan had left the shop she’d been on edge and sick to her stomach. What if Nick was abusing Jenn? Keeping her on a diet? Making her exercise? All those little things Sean and her father had done to keep Megan in her place came back to her. The comments, the looks. And that time when Sean—
Simon moved. She’d been standing there staring at him completely lost in a daze. Poor kid, he probably wondered why she glared at him when it was Sean she saw in her mind. Good memories. They were making good memories now.
“Okay,” she said, focusing on the recipe card Jenn thought lost forever and shoving the past aside. “Now all we need is the baking powder and—”
She knocked over the mixing bowl.
Megan watched as the metal bowl fell to the floor in slow motion. Her hands flew to her mouth, but she couldn’t stifle the horrified cry that escaped when the bowl landed with a clatter and a mushroom cloud of white exploded into the air. “No! Oh, no, oh no.”
She dropped to her knees, grabbed the spinning bowl and stilled it, scooping the flour into the bowl with her hands. Her hair kept getting in her face and she shoved it back, scraping, clawing, frantic.
“I didn’t mean to break it. I’ll clean up the mess, I’ll clean it up!”
“Yeah, well what about the rest of the house?”
“It’s clean!”
“Clean?” Sean snarled at her, his breath foul from too much alcohol and cheap appetizers from his favorite bar. His hand tangled in her hair, stopped her midstep, and when he yanked her back against his chest, his other hand found her throat and squeezed. “You’re pathetic. I expect a clean house. Is that too much to ask a
fter I work all day? Is it?”
“No!”
“No, it’s not. When I tell you to clean the house, I expect to see you on your knees.” A salacious grin formed on his too-full lips. “So let’s see you, Meggie. On your knees!”
Megan flinched with the memory of what came next, a sob in her throat as she kept scooping, crawling on her hands and knees, faster, desperate, scrambling. Please, please, please. She had to get it cleaned up. Had to—
She bumped into Simon. Megan nearly toppled over the child where he knelt beside her trying just as hard to scoop up the mess, tears streaming down his face. He’d caught on to her terrified panic, repeating something in his little boy voice.
“I help. I help, Miss Megan. It okay. I help.”
Megan stilled at the sight, the awful, fear-shrill sound. And the way Simon looked at her? Oh, Lord, what had she done?
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see for the tears stinging her eyes and the flour dust in the air, couldn’t stop shaking. “Simon? Simon, come here. No, baby, come here.” She reached for him, her hands leaving white imprints of flour on his skin. Megan pulled his sturdy boy body into her arms and held him close, burying her nose in his neck and biting her lip until it bled to keep the memories inside her, locked in a place where Simon wouldn’t see. She rocked him back and forth. Rock, hug, sniffle. Rock, hug, kiss. She’d make it okay. She had to. “I’m sorry, sugar. Oh, Simon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.”
Megan sat on the floor for a long time, Simon on her lap with his arms wrapped tight around her neck, each of them holding on to the other while she crooned the words to him, to herself, petted and rocked and tried to make it better. Tried to make the past disappear for them both.
Simon raised his head, his mocha eyes seeing all the way to her soul.
“Miss Megan éffrayée?”
She sniffled and tried to brave a smile. “Miss Megan was afraid,” she said thickly. “A long time ago I knew a mean man,” she whispered in French. “He made me afraid and I—I remembered. Just for a moment. But that was a long time ago and I’m not afraid anymore. I’m sorry for frightening you.”
