by Rula Sinara
“Beautiful,” she whispered before being lulled to sleep by baby magic.
*
BEN NEEDED TO stop looking at Hope, but something about her kept drawing him in.
It was disconcerting. There was a comfort and warmth about her that confused him…if such a paradox was even possible.
He closed the cabinet in which he kept his laptop and papers, and looked past the kitchen counter and into the living room. He was checking on his kids, that was all. He wasn’t looking at the way Ryan fit so perfectly in Hope’s arms, or how her delicate hand cradled his head against her, or how at peace she looked.
He scrubbed his hand several times across his crew cut and opened the fridge, scanning its contents like a blind man. Watching her coming up the walkway earlier—coming home—had thrown him off balance. He hated that feeling. He had plans. He’d been killing himself to stay in control of his life—the kids’ lives—since Zoe died. Only half a year. It wasn’t enough. Even if he’d been gone almost a year the day he’d come home from duty. The day. What was wrong with him? He shut the fridge and went to his room.
He’d only known Hope a few days, but this wasn’t about physical attraction. There were plenty of attractive women around. God help him, he’d discovered that being a widower was like having a girl magnet stuck on your back. Hope was different. Or maybe his darned subconscious felt safe because it knew she’d be leaving. He lay on his bed, propping two pillows behind him. A framed photo of Zoe faced him from on top of his dresser.
Never once had he betrayed her. In all the endless months that they were apart, he had never come close. Never looked at another woman. Not that way. And he knew plenty of military men who’d done more than look. So why did he feel guilty? Why did seeing Zoe’s father walking behind Hope make him feel as if he’d betrayed all of them? But he had, hadn’t he?
Zoe wasn’t here.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dear Diary,
Last night I had a nightmare. I was feeding Auntie Anna’s elephants, but then suddenly Chad and Ryan turned into elephants, and I started to cry. But Miss Hope came and pointed to a herd and kept telling me Mommy was there. Then Daddy turned into a crocodile and scared everyone away. I’m really never sleeping again.
HOPE PEDALED FASTER through the light drizzle. The morning had gone quite efficiently between both Ben and her. She’d managed to clean up and feed Ryan and Chad while Ben had packed Maddie’s lunchbox and waited for the bus with her outside. He’d been in a rush to get to an appointment he’d made to check out a potential psychologist for Maddie, and then he’d mentioned something about getting his car inspected. Hope had planned to take the boys for a walk and had just about had them ready to go when Nina had popped by, insisting that she take the kids back to her place. Their house was only two miles from the university campus where Jack used to work, and the theater department was showing a production she thought Hope would like. After all, she’d pointed out that Hope was entitled to some time to enjoy America.
The sun that had warmed up the morning had disappeared by the time she’d exited the auditorium. Eric was supposed to drop her off while Nina watched the boys and pick her up after she’d had the chance to watch the show, see the campus and explore the nearby shopping strip, which included a gift shop and bookstore. Hope had insisted she could walk and that she needed the exercise, but Eric had said walking two miles would take too long if the weather turned.
He’d ended up loaning her a bike and helmet. Several bikes rested against the wall in their garage. He’d pointed out the one he used to ride, then hesitated before choosing one for her and giving her directions.
The path was easy, especially with so many signs. The roads here were laid out like a grid for the most part and so neat. Even the gutters along the edge looked clean.
She licked the drops of rain off her lips and pedaled around a corner. The darkened sky ahead reminded her of the rebellious rolls of dark thunderclouds that always brought the promise of rain and a break in the heat after the drought season back home. Rain cleansed. It was a good omen. She lifted her face and smiled as she waited for the light at an intersection. It was amazing that everyone actually obeyed traffic rules here. Well, at least from what she’d witnessed. Rules had been broken when Zoe was killed.
The light turned green. Every single shop she passed, as well as the towering parking lot lights, was decorated in giant mirrored glittering green and red balls. It was truly wondrous. Almost as incredible as the house across the street from Ben. All these lights and decorations a whole month ahead? Unbelievable. Mesmerizing. And it probably cost a fortune in electricity.
A raindrop that felt like the size of a fig hit the back of her neck and trickled down and around her collarbone as she leaned forward to pick up speed.
“No, not yet,” she muttered, as if the clouds would listen. Her front wheel hit some loose gravel the exact moment that she let go of the handlebar and reached up to swipe another big one that had landed on her eyelid. She swerved straight into a parking lot and squeezed the brake, stopping just two feet from a parked Jeep. She gasped, and it took her a few seconds to steady her breathing.
She looked around for somewhere to take shelter until the heaviest of the rain passed. She jumped off the bike, and rolled it quickly toward the only building in the parking lot, a single-story place covered in wood shingles. The sign over the wood-and-stained-glass front door said Bentley’s: Music, Food and Spirits. She latched the bike under the front overhang, hung her helmet on the handlebar and ran inside just as the sky let loose.
Safe. Hope caught her breath and brushed some of the drops that beaded on her wool sweater.
“I’ll be right with you,” said a young woman with long red hair pulled into a low ponytail. “Feel free to pick a seat.”
“Thank you,” Hope said. The woman disappeared behind a swinging door with a…dog? Hope froze. Dogs bit and chased.
The stray who’d chased her when she was eleven and some of the patient injuries she’d treated proved so. What in the world was a dog doing in a restaurant? Maybe that was why business looked to be slow. Empty wooden tables and chairs grounded the center of the room. The place was relatively empty but for a couple eating burgers near the bar area, and a single man. He sat at a corner table poking his straw at an empty glass of ice cubes before pouring a green bottle she recognized as mineral water. They seemed unfazed by the presence of a dog. It was after lunch, so maybe it wasn’t the dog’s presence that cleared the place.
You know you’re overreacting. There are good dogs just like there are good and bad people. Get over it and sit down.
An earsplitting crack of thunder and a flicker of lights had her jumping from her spot. Think logically. Being out there on a bike would be much more dangerous than a dog on a leash. The built-in benches under the windows overlooking the parking lot seemed a tiny bit more secure than the central tables, unless she got cornered. She slipped into the booth nearest the door. Rain beat the window next to her with no sign of letting up.
“Sorry about that. First time here?” The lady who’d greeted her appeared by her table, along with the cream-colored dog, who sat obediently on command, with his leash clipped to her belt. She set a menu in front of Hope and pulled out a pen and pad. The dog stared straight at Hope as if he, too, expected an answer to the question. Hope shifted closer to the window.
“Oh, uh, yes. First time here, and in town,” Hope said, frowning at the dog.
“Oh? Where from?”
“Kenya.”
“Really? Cool. I have always wanted to go on a safari there. One of these days, maybe. A girl can dream, right? I’m Brie, by the way. I own this place, and this guy here,” she said, tapping a hook on her belt to emphasize the dog had a leash on, “is Wolf.”
His name wasn’t one bit reassuring.
“Hi, I’m Hope. Uh, about the dog… I’m really uncomfortable around them,” Hope said, holding the edge of the table.
“I assur
e you he doesn’t have an aggressive hair on him. In fact, he’s the best puppy I’ve raised so far. Aren’t you, boy? I do apologize for not having his blue vest on. I had a mustard-container malfunction just before you stepped in, so it’s drying off. I foster puppies for a guide-dog program, so he’s not just any dog. Of course, I don’t let just any animals in here. I keep a notice near the door outside.”
“I—”
A deafening clap of thunder had them both cringing.
“I think I ran in here too fast to read anything,” Hope said, hoping the obvious storm explained her dilemma. She’d heard of programs like the one Brie mentioned. They didn’t really have one available for patients with visual disabilities in Kenya. Usually, if someone needed assistance, a child relative would take them around. It certainly wasn’t the best way, but the closest guide dog program was in South Africa.
Brie’s lips flattened. “Of course. I understand. Give me just a moment.” She took Wolf back to the side of the bar counter, told him to sit and stay, then connected the end of his leash to a hook. She dipped behind the bar and returned with a glass of water and a napkin, then set them down on the table.
“I started raising pups for the program a long time ago, but then I stopped about a year ago, after taking over Bentley’s from my uncle,” Brie explained. “Then a friend finally took the plunge and agreed to foster. I had convinced her it would be a great experience for her family. But—” Brie’s nose turned red. She scratched at her throat. “She died. Wolf had been assigned to her.”
“I’m sorry,” Hope said. What else could she say? She could tell Brie still hurt and felt terrible for her loss—she couldn’t imagine losing her only close friend, Chuki—and guilty for not being a dog person. Although, really, that guilt wasn’t going to make her run over and give the dog a hug. And although she’d missed lunch, none of this was helping her appetite. She glanced at the menu. She hadn’t intended to order. All she wanted was for the rain to end so she could leave.
“Thank you,” Brie said. “We’re trying to make the best of it. For the most part, the exposure here is good for his training. My uncle still helps out to give me a break, and my aunt watches Wolf during our busiest hours.”
She really talked a lot.
“Oh, and since it’s your first time in town,” she went on, “I should mention that we have a live band here Friday and Saturday nights, so if you’re looking for some fun…”
Hope stared past her at Wolf, who was now lying on the floor in his spot. Brie smiled.
“He goes home early on those nights. I can’t handle training him and keeping up with guests and loud music.”
“Okay. I’ll try to remember that,” Hope said, fiddling with her dangling earring.
“Great. So what can I get for you? I’ve been talking a lot.” No kidding. “You must me starving by now.”
Was that an apology? Or just a hint that shelter from the rain wasn’t a free deal here? She opened the menu. It was a lot to look at.
“The American Burger Bust is our special. It’s really good,” Brie said, glancing over her shoulder, directly at the man sitting on his own. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Hope wasn’t a fool. Whatever the kitchen had a surplus of after lunch was going to be the best thing on the menu until it was gone. But a burger did sound good. Pizza and burgers: two things she’d wanted to try in America because Jack had told her they didn’t taste quite the same in Nairobi, even in the restaurants serving American fare.
She looked at the prices. She’d converted some Kenyan shillings to US dollars so that she’d have cash on hand, but she had a long way to go before thinking in dollars felt normal. And the prices here were steep—and no bargaining them down—not that money was an issue for her, but more than eighty-seven shillings to get a dollar? She’d never bothered with credit cards in Nairobi. The fees weren’t worth it, considering that the open Masai marketplace and most of the kiosks with art or handmade jewelry didn’t take them. Anytime she was at a professional meeting or a gathering at one of the well-known restaurants or hotels, she was usually with family or some higher-up hosting a group from the hospital, and she never had to pay.
“I’ll take the burger,” she said, noting from the sound alone that it was still raining hard. “Also, do you have a phone I could use?” Boy, did she miss her cell phone. She’d figured, after finding out from her carrier that it wouldn’t work in the US, that she’d survive a few months. But survival was relative, and habits were a funny thing.
“There’s a pay phone right by the restrooms.” She pointed to the far corner.
“Thank you.” Hope removed the small leather satchel she’d slung across her shoulder and chest so that she could ride. She fished out a slip of paper she’d listed phone numbers on, then slid out of the booth and went to call Nina to let her know she was okay. Just in time, too. Worried about the storm, Nina and Eric had been about to call Ben for help in tracking her down. Hope reassured them, and headed to her booth, hesitating only to make sure Wolf wasn’t on the loose.
She sat back down at her booth and eyed the menu Brie had left. She flipped to the backside and knew immediately she was doomed. Desserts with descriptions that were probably raising her blood sugar by simply reading them. Caramel flan, Guinness ice cream, a double devil chocolate cake, Irish coffee cake, mousse pie with Baileys Irish cream and cheesecake. Heaven help her, that was a dessert for every day of the week—and no one to bother her about what she should and shouldn’t be eating. The only ones that sounded familiar were the flan, chocolate cake and cheesecake.
She turned the menu so that she couldn’t see the list and pushed it away, chuckling to herself. She was so bad. She knew better. Her heart had healed long ago, but it was something her parents never really got over. Kind of like her fear of dogs. She’d pace herself. A greasy burger today and dessert another day. She’d only be here for three months anyway. She’d be good when she returned to Kenya. She’d even tell Dalila not to indulge her, even if she begged. Having a high metabolism was terrible for willpower.
She watched Brie carry a bottle of orange soda over to the man in the corner while balancing a dish on her other hand. She set it down in front of him, whisked his old bottle away and, smoothing her apron, asked if he needed anything else. She blushed. Wolf, who’d been so obedient, stretched his neck and began licking the man’s leg, whimpering when Brie ordered him to sit. Maybe Wolf was actually a girl, too.
“I’m so sorry,” Brie said.
“It’s fine,” he replied, eyeing Wolf, but not once looking at her.
Hope turned away as Brie approached her table.
“Here you go,” she said, setting down a hot plate with a massive pile of fries next to the burger. The portion size blew her away. How big would a dessert be?
“Can I get you anything else?”
“It says here that you deliver?”
“Yes, we do.” Good to know, given her cooking skills. “It does depend on how far, though.”
“Lancaster Street.”
Brie’s face fell, and any sign of blushing at the man in the corner faded away. She studied the rain sweeping across the parking lot outside the window, as if trying to recall their delivery area, but the way she kept swallowing and curling her lips told Hope it was more.
“Yes,” Brie finally said quietly. “We deliver there.”
*
PASSING CAMPUS DRIVE on his way to Maddie’s elementary school had become routine over the past few weeks. The call he’d gotten from the principal’s office was becoming an expected frustration, too. Enough so that he’d contemplated pulling her out and finding someone who could homeschool her, since the other public school within driving distance was overcrowded, and he couldn’t come close to affording private school.
He quickly banished the thought. It’d be easier for him, maybe. No more school visits, but it would mean tearing Maddie away from the classmates she’d known since kindergarten. And without fam
iliar friends around, she’d have even less reason to come out of her shell. Besides, the one person Maddie seemed to like and connect with was her school counselor, and the last private counselor Ben had checked out didn’t have enough experience with mutism. Plus, his overall personality wasn’t…maternal enough.
Rain sloshed across his windshield as he switched his wipers to a higher speed. He stopped at the light, wishing he’d made it through. He hated the way his stomach tightened, as though his soul was being sucked into a black hole, every time he passed that intersection…and Bentley’s. Today that feeling felt tenfold. Maybe it was because of Maddie, or maybe the depressing weather, but somehow, ever since Hope had arrived, he couldn’t stop hearing Zoe’s voice in his head in a way that was more real, more frequent than it had been since the first weeks after her death. An unsettled feeling washed through him. Then something purple caught his eye through the sheets of rain. Something unmistakable, yet impossible.
Zoe’s bike and helmet. At Bentley’s.
Nausea roiled in his gut, and he sucked in a breath as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the light to make sure it was red and then at the caller ID. The school.
“Corallis here,” he answered, glad he’d charged his Bluetooth. He hated the darn thing, but with kids all over the place, he needed to be accessible, and it was the safest way to go when he was driving.
“Hi, Mr. Corallis. This is Mrs. Chaperson.”
“I’m almost at the school. Did you need to reschedule?” The principal had set up the meeting via email, wanting to discuss Maddie’s progress. No doubt, Ms. Serval had gone to her, feeling like she wasn’t getting anywhere with “the dad.” He couldn’t help but imagine Serval telling Chaperson that “her dad just doesn’t get it.” Same attitude he got from Nina. Maybe it was a women versus men thing. Or maybe he really was missing something and failing at parenthood. Failing at protecting his little girl and helping her heal.
