by Sherry Lewis
Why did she feel this way about him? She thought she’d put all this girlish stuff behind her. That wasn’t to say she’d never thought about trying marriage again, but she hadn’t let herself dream since she’d pulled her head out of the clouds and faced life realistically.
Through the open French doors of her bedroom, she heard a car slow and turn into the drive. It must be Theresa already. But crossing to close the doors, she caught a glimpse of Kurt getting out of his Cherokee and Michael racing across the lawn toward him.
“Mom! Kurt’s here.”
As usual, her heart hammered, sending a steady beat through her veins and thrumming in her ears. She caught herself checking her reflection in the mirror and turned away. If jeans and a cotton blouse weren’t attractive enough, it was too late to do anything about it now. Besides, she reminded herself, she didn’t want to be attractive for him.
“Come on, Mom!” Michael shouted again.
On the lawn below, Erin crossed slowly, almost reluctantly. Michael might be excited to see Kurt, but Erin wouldn’t be comfortable with him. And neither would Abby.
She closed all the open windows, went down to the kitchen for the pasta salad and made sure the doors were locked before she joined the others at Kurt’s Cherokee. Erin and Michael climbed into the back with Brody, leaving the seat beside Kurt for her.
Erin huddled against the door, Michael bounced enthusiastically, Brody talked a mile a minute, and Kurt scarcely spared Abby a glance as she climbed into the front seat.
“Theresa asked me to pick you up on my way,” he explained. “One of her kids pulled her knee and they had to take her to the doctor.”
“Is she all right?”
“It’s nothing serious. Theresa said they’d be home soon, but I need to get there a few minutes early. I hope you don’t mind.”
Abby minded everything about this situation. But she shook her head. “Of course not.”
Kurt’s hands gripped the steering wheel and a muscle worked in his jaw, but his eyes didn’t stray from the road. He relaxed only when Michael asked him a question.
After a few minutes of baseball chatter, Abby tuned them all out and stared out her window at the forest. Trees crowded together and thick undergrowth colored the forest every shade of green imaginable. The sun, kinder here than in Arizona and weaker than in Baltimore, had gone behind a cloud.
After leaving Arizona the first time, she’d been amazed by any climate that produced vegetation naturally. After all the years in the East, she now delighted in the more moderate climate of the Pacific Northwest. If she’d been thinking of changing locations, she might consider this one. She wouldn’t want to live in a place the size of Pine Cove, of course, but maybe Seattle or Portland.
“…so is it okay, Mom?” Michael leaned forward and broke into her thoughts. “Can Brody still sleep over on Friday?”
For the first time that evening, Kurt met Abby’s eyes, questioning her. Why? What did he think she was? An ogre? She’d invited Brody to sleep over, and she wouldn’t change her mind at the last minute.
“Of course he can,” she answered.
“Great.” Michael fell back against his seat, contented.
Kurt tightened his hold on the steering wheel.
“We’re looking forward to having Brody stay over,” she said.
His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. What on earth was wrong with him? Didn’t he want Brody to sleep over? It’d been his idea to have Michael over. Now that it was her turn to reciprocate, he seemed unwilling.
“He can come over on Friday, can’t he?” She shouldn’t press him, but she couldn’t help herself.
His eyes flicked over her for an instant, as if he was taking her measure. Slowly his lips curved in a smile, but his dimples refused to appear. “Yeah. Of course he can.”
When he turned his attention back to the road, Abby studied his profile. Something was definitely bothering him, but she couldn’t imagine what.
He pulled into the driveway of an old white house, and Abby’s thoughts ceased abruptly. The house was immaculate, the garden thriving. Flowers and ground cover grew with abandon in bright, seemingly unplanned splotches of color in front of the house and up both sides of the walk. But where were they? He hadn’t said anything about stopping, and Theresa had told her the Pierces lived on the north side of town.
Maybe they had to pick up someone else. The thought brought relief tinged with regret. She didn’t want to be alone with Kurt, even with the children in the car, but she didn’t want to share him, either.
Kurt must have sensed her confusion. “Jack and Theresa’s place. I’m supposed to pick up a few things for them.”
She nodded and looked again at the house. Now that she knew, she had no trouble picturing Theresa on the wide front porch or cutting flowers from the garden. The place radiated Theresa’s warmth.
“Can I help?”
Kurt hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Sure.” He turned to the kids. “You three wait here. We’ll be right back.”
They approached the front door in silence, uneasiness hanging heavily between them. At last Abby could stand the silence no longer. “They have a nice place.”
Kurt looked around, as if seeing the house for the first time. “It’s the house I was raised in.”
“It’s very nice,” she repeated. She sounded like a fool. Better not to talk at all.
The front door swung open and a young girl of about thirteen launched herself at Kurt with a cry of glee. Laughing, he hugged her close, swinging her off her feet. “My niece, Sara,” he told Abby when he’d lowered the girl to the ground. “Sara, this is Abby Harris.”
Sara grinned happily up at Abby, then tugged at Kurt’s hand. “You’ve got to come and see my new mountain bike.”
“Hold on a minute. We’re running late. We have to get your mom’s casserole and some stuff from the garage, and then we’re out of here. How about if I see the bike tomorrow?”
Pouting a little, Sara let go of Kurt’s hand and shrugged. “I guess.”
Kurt turned to Abby. “Why don’t you go with Sara and get the casserole while I head out to the garage?”
Without the slightest hesitation, Sara grabbed Abby’s hand and pulled her through the front door into the cool house. “The kitchen’s back here. Come on and I’ll show you where everything is. I didn’t know you were coming with Uncle Kurt. I wish I could go with you, but my mom says I have to stay here and take care of the kids until she gets back.”
Abby followed Sara through the darkened hallway into the kitchen, listening with half an ear. Like the outside, the kitchen felt homey and warm. Everything gleamed from recent cleaning, but the house retained its lived-in feel. Cozy.
Sara searched a drawer full of kitchen towels. “Don’t you think Uncle Kurt’s great?” She found an oven mitt and held it out to Abby.
“Yes, I do,” Abby answered truthfully, taking the mitt.
Sara boosted herself onto the counter and kicked her legs. “I like being around him now more than before.”
Abby opened the oven door and tried to pull out the casserole dish with only one mitt. “Before?”
“Before Aunt Laura left. He was sad all the time then. But he’s a lot more fun now.”
Abby tried to picture Kurt sad, but had no success. He’d never said much about his ex-wife. All she knew was what Brody had told her—which wasn’t a lot. But suddenly she wanted to know everything about her.
Abby could understand a failed marriage—they happened all the time. But she couldn’t understand how Laura could walk out on Brody, even if her love for Kurt had died. Abby constantly battled the ache over her inability to have children, and to willingly give up a child was something she couldn’t comprehend. But pumping a thirteen-year-old for information wasn’t an acceptable way to get answers.
She dragged her attention back to the oven. “Do you have another mitt or a hot pad?”
Sara jumped down and searched until she came up with
one. Abby drew the casserole from the oven as Sara swung herself back onto the counter.
“Your daughter could stay here with me if she wants,” Sara offered, “and go to the party with us when my mom and dad get home.”
It sounded like the most natural thing in the world, and any typical young girl would probably jump at the chance. But Erin wouldn’t consider it—even if Abby would. “Maybe another time. She’s kind of shy.”
“Oh. Okay.” Sara looked confused for half a second, but let it pass. “Maybe Kurt could call my mom and talk her into letting us go with you.”
“Do you think we should bother your mom at the doctor’s office?”
Sara shrugged, her disappointment evident. “No, I guess not. But I’d rather go with you than wait here.”
Sara’s easy affection for Kurt amazed Abby. Her own relationships with Erin and Michael paled in comparison. Kurt had a natural way with children and an open, honest affection for them that drew them to him. He was a good father. He needed more children.
With that dampening thought, Abby took the casserole back outside where Kurt and the children waited. He took the hot dish and placed it with the other food in the back of the Cherokee before climbing behind the wheel again.
Abby took her seat beside him and studied his face. He had a nice face, so handsome he took her breath away. Funny, but he seemed even better looking now than when they first met. She forced her gaze away and looked out the window, but her determination didn’t last long and she stole another glance.
His profile, his strong jawline, the intensity of his gaze on the road, only made him more attractive. She pictured him laughing, his mouth wide, dimples dipping into his cheeks, eyes dancing at something he found amusing. No matter what he did, he was attractive. Too attractive. Again, she tried to picture him sad, stuck in an unhappy marriage, but failed.
He took his eyes from the road for an instant and caught her staring at him. She looked away, embarrassed, and wished with all her heart he didn’t attract her so.
Mumbling something Abby couldn’t make out, Kurt slowed the Cherokee in front of a mailbox as they entered town. Rolling down the window, he leaned out and dropped a letter into the box. As soon as the letter disappeared, he looked into the backseat and smiled. “Who’s ready for the party?”
“AREN’T THERE SUPPOSED to be people in these pictures?” Jack groaned and shoved the stack of photos back at Kurt.
Kurt stuffed the pictures back in their envelope and then into his pocket. He picked up the barbecue tongs and pushed a hot dog closer to the flame. “I didn’t want to do the job in the first place.”
“I haven’t had a decent picture in the Patriot since Kenny left town. People are getting tired of it.”
“Then hire somebody. I’m not a photographer.”
Jack rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “Who am I going to get in Pine Cove?”
“Don’t ask me. It’s not my problem.” Kurt flipped a couple of burgers. He didn’t mind helping out from time to time, but not if Jack was going to complain about it. He already handled almost every demand Zelda made, and now Jack expected him to spend the summer taking photographs for the local paper.
Jack poked a potato chip into his mouth. “Look, it’s no big deal. All I need is a couple of decent pictures every week.” He waved at Bill and Naomi as they came through the patio door, narrowing his eyes in disapproval when he saw the beer can in Bill’s hand.
Kurt looked out across the patio and caught a glimpse of Abby and Erin sitting with Theresa and Merilee Pierce. He nodded toward her. “That’s who you ought to talk to—Abby Harris.”
“You think so?”
“I’ve seen her taking pictures on the beach, and she seems to know her way around a camera. She might enjoy doing a bit of professional photography.”
Jack appeared interested for half a minute. “I might go for it if she wasn’t only here for the summer.”
Kurt looked at Abby again, steeling himself for the wave of attraction he always felt when he saw her. “I thought it would get me off the hook for a while. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Yeah? Well, forget it. It wouldn’t be worth the hassle. Let’s drop this now. I’ve got to make sure Bill’s all right.” Jack slapped Kurt on the shoulder and headed for the house. “A couple of pictures a week. But hold the camera still from now on, would ya?”
“Why don’t you show me how?”
“You’ll do fine. Just figure it out before the Fourth of July. I won’t be able to put pictures like the ones I just saw in the paper then.” Jack slung his arm around Bill’s shoulder and led the other man through the kitchen door.
Kurt looked back at the barbecue grill and pushed the nearly burned burgers away from the coals. He obviously had to do something before Jack got used to thinking of him as a member of the staff. He ought to check out some of Abby’s pictures—just to see their quality. If they looked good, he’d get her to show a few to Jack. And if Jack liked them, he’d probably ask Abby to work for him. He’d no doubt claim it’d been his idea in the first place.
Tossing the tongs down on a tray, Kurt picked up a plate heaped with burgers and hot dogs and headed into the crowd. The first chance he got to catch Abby alone, he’d approach her about the pictures.
ABBY STIFLED a sigh and let her gaze travel over the small crowd. Michael had gone inside with Brody and the other boys after dinner to play Nintendo, but Erin hadn’t left her side all evening. Even when Amber Morgan, knee freshly wrapped, invited her to make root-beer floats, Erin hadn’t budged. If anything, she’d stayed even closer to Abby.
Not for the first time, Abby wondered if Erin had suffered a different kind of abuse at Vic’s hands than Michael had. And as always, she worried about her ability to handle Erin’s special needs.
They’d spent time with Theresa and some of the other women on the patio, but a few minutes ago Abby had sensed Erin’s need for quiet, so they’d wandered to the back of the deep lawn to sit under the tree.
Meeting the girl’s eyes, Abby worked up a reassuring smile. “Are you having any fun at all?”
“Sure.” Erin smiled back but didn’t sound convincing.
Abby pursed her lips. “Sure.”
Erin’s mouth twitched and she ducked her head. But this was the first honest smile Abby had seen on Erin’s face, and her heart soared.
“What do you want to do now?” she asked the girl.
Erin turned her head and watched Abby with one eye. “Stay here for a while?”
“Okay. That’s easy enough.” Abby stretched her legs out in front of her on the cool grass and leaned back on her hands.
From the house, raised voices caught her attention. It took a few minutes to realize they weren’t friendly. At her side, Erin tensed and reached for her hand.
A second later Bill Franklin stumbled onto the patio, his face twisted with rage. “What I do is none of your business,” he shouted to someone inside.
Jack came through the door, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Now look, Bill—”
“No!” Bill turned away, stumbling a little over his own feet. “I came to this party for my boy. For my boy! I don’t need you or anybody else telling me what to do.”
Bill’s son clutched the doorframe and watched his father warily. A second later Naomi appeared behind Jason, but instead of offering her son comfort, she brushed past him onto the patio.
Erin’s eyes widened and a whimper escaped her throat. Abby wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
Shaking her finger in her husband’s face, Naomi shouted, “This is what you always do, Bill. It’s always somebody else’s fault, isn’t it?”
Jack stepped between them and said something to Naomi that Abby couldn’t hear. Naomi folded her arms across her chest and backed away, but she didn’t look pacified.
“Why don’t we go around front and talk,” Jack said, and took a step toward Bill.
Bill hesitated, then broke
away again. “No. I’m not going around front to talk. I’m going over there to be with Jason. That’s why we came, wasn’t it?” He spat the last words at Naomi and tried to push past her to his son, but Jack caught his arm. Bill spun around. “What are you trying to do, Jack? This isn’t any of your business. It’s between me and my wife.”
He gestured angrily toward Naomi and she stepped forward, but Jack waved her back again. Jason said something Abby couldn’t hear and lowered his head in what Abby thought was an attempt to hide his tears. Naomi answered, but her words obviously failed to provide the boy any comfort.
Erin clutched Abby’s hand. “I don’t want to listen to this.”
“Then let’s get out of here.” Abby got to her feet and put her arm around Erin’s shoulder again, wondering about the best means of escape.
From the side of the yard, a man moved in their direction, and Abby jerked backward before she recognized Kurt. He glanced toward the patio. “Sorry about this. It doesn’t happen every time Bill’s around, but it seems to be happening more often lately.”
Erin looked up at them, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Can we leave?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” Abby took a step away.
“Is she all right?” Kurt asked softly.
“She’ll be fine. Things like this upset her, that’s all.”
He’d want to know why. And what could she say? That Erin was an extrasensitive child with tender feelings? He might believe it.
From the patio, Bill Franklin shouted an obscenity that made Erin cringe against Abby’s side.
“I hate that word. My dad always says that word.”
Abby cast a quick glance at Kurt. His eyes were riveted on the patio and his face looked as if it’d been carved from stone. She couldn’t tell whether he’d heard Erin or not.
Willing the girl not to say another word, Abby studied the layout of the backyard. They might make it through the side gate, but it looked like Jack was trying to lead Bill in that direction. The only other choice was straight past Naomi and Jason through the kitchen door. Abby didn’t like either alternative, but opted for the route farthest from Bill.
