Engaged to the Single Mom

by Lee Tobin McClain

  He gestured toward one of the rockers. “Have a seat. Let’s talk about that. I’m curious about why you’re interested.”

  Of course he was. And she’d spent much of last night sleepless, wondering how much she’d have to tell him to get the job she desperately needed, the job that would make things as good as they could be, at least for a while.

  Once she sat down, he made his way back to his own rocker and sat, grimacing as he propped his leg on the low table in front of him.

  She didn’t like the rush of sympathy she felt. “What happened?”

  “Fell off a roof. My own stupid fault.”

  That was new in him, the willingness to admit his own culpability. She wondered how far it went.

  “That’s why I need an assistant with the dogs,” he explained. “Lou Ann helps me around the house, but she’s not strong enough to take care of the kennels. I can’t get everything done, and we’ve got a lot of dogs right now, so this is kind of urgent.”

  His words were perfectly cordial, but questions and undercurrents rustled beneath them.

  Angelica forced herself to stay in the present, in sales mode. “You saw my résumé online, right? I worked as a vet assistant back in Boston. And I’ve done hospital, um, volunteer work, and you know I grew up in the country. I’m strong, a lot stronger than I look.”

  He nodded. “I’ve no doubt you could do the work if you wanted to,” he said, “but why would you want to?”

  “Let’s just say I need a job.”

  He studied her, his blue eyes troubled. “You haven’t shown your face in town for seven years. Even when you visit your grandfather, you hide out at the Senior Towers. If I’m giving you access to my dogs and my computer files and my whole business, especially if you’re able to live here on the grounds, I need to know a little more about what you’ve been up to.”

  He hadn’t mentioned his main reason for mistrusting her, and she appreciated that. She pulled her mind out of the past and focused on the living arrangement, one of the main reasons this job was perfect for her. “I’m very interested in living in. Your ad said that’s part of the job?”

  “That’s right, in the old bunkhouse.” He gestured toward a trim white building off to the east. “I figured the offer of housing might sweeten the deal, given that this is just a temporary job.”

  “Is it big enough for two?”

  “Ye-es,” He leaned back in the rocker and studied her, his eyes hooded. “Why? Are you married? I thought your name was still Camden.”

  “I’m not married.” She swallowed. “But I do have a son.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “How old is your son?”

  “Is that important?” She really, really didn’t want to tell him.

  “Yes, it’s important,” he said with a slight sigh. “I can’t have a baby or toddler here. It wouldn’t be safe, not with some of the dogs I care for.”

  She drew in a breath. Now or never. “My son’s six, almost seven.” She reached a hand out to the bulldog, who’d settled between them, rubbed it along his wrinkled head, let him sloppily lick her fingers.

  “Six! Then...”

  She forced herself to look at Troy steadily while he did the math. Saw his eyes harden as he realized her son must have been conceived right around the time she’d left town.

  Heat rose in her cheeks as the familiar feeling of shame twisted her insides. But she couldn’t let herself go there. “Xavier is a well-behaved kid.” At least most of the time. “He loves animals and he’s gentle with them.”

  Troy was still frowning.

  He was going to refuse her, angry about the way she’d left him, and then what would she do? How would she achieve the goal she’d set for herself, to fulfill as many of Xavier’s wishes as she could? This was such a perfect arrangement.

  “I really need this job, Troy.” She hated to beg, but for Xavier, she’d do it.

  He looked away, out at the fields, and she did, too. Sun on late-summer corn tassels, puffy clouds in a blue sky. Xavier would love it so.

  “If you ever felt anything for me...” Her throat tightened and she had to force out the words. “If any of your memories about me are good, please give me the job.”

  He turned back toward her, eyes narrowing. “Why do you need it so badly?”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “Because my son wants to be close to Gramps. And because he loves animals.”

  “Most people don’t organize their careers around their kids’ hankerings.”

  She drew in a breath. “Well, I do.”

  His expression softened a little. “This job...it might not be what you want. It’s just until my leg heals. The doc says it could be three, four months before I’m fully back on my feet. Once that happens, I won’t need an assistant anymore.”

  She swallowed and squeezed her hands together. Lord, I know I’m supposed to let You lead, but this seems so right. Not for me, but for Xavier, and that’s what matters. It is of You, isn’t it?

  No answer from above, but the roar of a truck engine pierced the country quiet.

  Oh no. Gramps was back too soon. He’d never gotten along with Troy, never trusted him on account of his conflicts with Troy’s dad. But she didn’t want the two men’s animosity to get in the way of what both she and her son wanted and needed.

  The truck stopped again at the end of the driveway. Gramps got out, walked around to the passenger door.

  She surged from her chair. “No, don’t!” she called, but the old man didn’t hear her. She started down the porch steps

  Troy called her back. “It’s okay, they can come up. Regardless of what we decide about the job, maybe your son would like to see the dogs, look around the place.”

  “There’s nothing he’d like better,” she said, “but I don’t want to get his hopes up if this isn’t going to work out.”

  Troy’s forehead wrinkled as he stared out toward the truck, watching as Gramps helped Xavier climb out.

  Angelica rarely saw her son from this distance, and now, watching Gramps steady him, her hand rose to her throat. He looked as thin as a scarecrow. His baseball cap couldn’t conceal the fact that he had almost no hair.

  Her eyes stung and her breathing quickened as if she were hyperventilating. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, hard, and pressed her lips together.

  Gramps held Xavier’s arm as they made slow progress down the driveway. The older supporting the younger, opposite of how it should be.

  Troy cleared his throat. “Like I said, the job won’t be long-term. I...it looks like you and your son have some...issues. You might want to find something more permanent.”

  His kind tone made her want to curl up and cry for a couple of weeks, but she couldn’t go there. She clenched her fists. “I know the job is short-term.” Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, she added, “That’s okay with us. We take things a day at a time.”

  “Why’s that?” His gaze remained on the pair making their slow way up the driveway.

  He was going to make her say it. She took a shuddering breath and forced out the words. “Because the doctors aren’t sure how long his remission will last.”

  * * *

  Troy stared at Xavier, forgetting to breathe. Remission? “Remission from what?”

  Angelica cleared her throat. “Leukemia. He has...a kind that’s hard to beat.”

  Every parent’s nightmare. Instinctively he reached out to pat her shoulder, the way he’d done so many times with pet owners worried about seriously ill pets.

  She flinched and sidled away.

  Fine! Anger flared up at the rejection and he gripped the porch railing and tamped it down. Her response was crystal clear. She didn’t want any physical contact between them.

  But no matter his own feelings, n
o matter what Angelica had done to him, the past was the past. This pain, the pain of a mother who might lose her child, was in the present, and Angelica’s worn-down appearance suddenly made sense.

  And no matter whose kid Xavier was...no matter who she’d cheated on him with...the boy was an innocent, and the thought of a child seriously, maybe terminally, ill made Troy’s heart hurt.

  Again he suppressed his emotions as his medical instincts went into overdrive. “What kind of doctors has he seen? Have you gotten good treatments, second opinions?”

  She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t begin to tell you how many doctors and opinions.”

  “But are they the best ones? Have you tried the Cleveland—”

  “Troy!” She blew out a jagged breath. “Look, I don’t need medical interference right now. I need a job.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t you think I’ve done everything in my power to help him?” She turned away and walked down the steps toward her son. Her back was stiff, her shoulders rigid.

  He lifted a hand to stop her and then let it fall. Way to go, Hinton. Great social skills.

  He’d find out more, would try to do something to help. Obviously Angelica hadn’t done well financially since she left him and left town. Xavier’s father must have bolted. And without financial resources, getting good medical care wasn’t easy.

  “Mom! Did you get the job?”

  Angelica shot Troy a quick glance. “It’s still being decided.”

  The boy’s face fell. Then he nodded and bit his lip. “It’s okay, Mama. But can we at least see the dogs?”

  “Absolutely,” Troy answered before Angelica could deny the boy. Then he hobbled down the porch stairs and sank onto the bottom one, putting him on a level with the six-year-old. “I’m Troy,” he said, and reached out to shake the boy’s hand.

  The boy smiled—wow, what a smile—and reached out to grasp Troy’s hand, looking up at his mother for reassurance.

  She nodded at him. “You know what to say.”

  Frowning with thought, the boy shook his head.

  “Pleased to...” Angelica prompted.

  The smile broke out again like sunshine. “Oh yeah. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Xavier.” He dropped Troy’s hand and waved an arm upward, grinning. “And this is my grandpa. My great-grandpa.”

  “I’ve already had the pleasure.” Troy looked up and met the old man’s hostile eyes.

  Camden glared down at him, not speaking.

  Oh man. Out of the gazillion reasons not to hire Angelica, here was a major one. Obviously her grandfather was an important part of her life, one of her only living relatives. If she and Xavier came to live here, Troy would see a lot of Homer Camden, something they’d managed to avoid for the years Angelica was out of town.

  Of course, he’d been working like crazy himself. Setting up his private practice, opening the rescue, paying off debt from vet school, which was astronomical even though his family had helped.

  Troy pushed himself to his feet and got his crutches underneath him. “Dogs are out this way, if you’d like to see them.” He nodded toward the barn.

  “Yes!” Xavier pumped his arm. “I asked God to get me a bunch of dogs.”

  “Zavey Davey...” Angelica’s voice was uneasy. “Remember, I don’t have the job yet. And God doesn’t always—”

  “I know.” Xavier sighed, his smile fading a little. “He doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want Him to.”

  Ouch. Kids were supposed to be all about Jesus Loves Me and complete confidence in God’s—and their parents’—ability to fix anything. But from the looks of things, young Xavier had already run up against some of life’s hard truths.

  “Come on, Gramps.” When the old man didn’t move, Xavier tugged at his arm. “You promised you’d be nice. Please?”

  The old man’s face reddened. After a slight pause that gave Troy and Angelica the chance to glance at each other, he turned in the direction Troy had indicated and started walking, slowly, with Xavier.

  Angelica touched Troy’s arm, more like hit him, actually. “Don’t let him go back there if you don’t want to give me the job,” she growled.

  Even angry, her voice brushed at his nerve endings like rich, soft velvet. Her rough touch plucked at some wildness in him he’d never given way to.

  Troy looked off over the cornfields, thinking, trying to get control of himself. He didn’t trust Angelica, but that sweet-eyed kid...how could he disappoint a sick kid?

  Homer Camden and the boy were making tracks toward the barn, and Troy started after them. He didn’t want them to reach the dogs before he’d had a chance to lay some ground rules about safety. He turned to make sure Angelica was following.

  She wasn’t. “Well?” Her arms were crossed, eyes narrowed, head cocked to one side.

  “You expect me to make an instant decision?”

  “Since my kid’s feelings are on the line...yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  Their eyes locked. Some kind of stormy electrical current ran between them.

  This was bad. Working with her would be difficult enough, since feelings he thought he’d resolved years ago were resurfacing. He’d thought he was over her dumping him, but the knowledge that she’d conceived a child with someone else after seeming so sincere about their decision to wait until marriage... His neck felt as tight as granite. Yeah. It was going to take a while to process that.

  Having her live here on the grounds with that very child, someone else’s child, the product of her unfaithfulness...he clenched his jaw against all the things he wanted to say to her.

  Fools vent their anger, but the wise hold it back. It was a proverb he’d recently taught the boys in his Kennel Kids group, little dreaming how soon and how badly he’d need it himself.

  “Mom! Come on! I wanna see the dogs!” Xavier was tugging at his grandfather’s arm, jumping around like a kid who wasn’t at all sick, but Troy knew that was deceptive. Even terminally ill animals went through energetic periods.

  Could he deprive Xavier of being with dogs and of having a decent home to live in? Even if having Angelica here on the farm was going to be difficult?

  When he met her eyes again, he saw that hers shone with unshed tears.

  “Okay,” he said around a sigh. “You’re hired.”

  Her face broke into a sunshiny smile that reminded him of the girl she’d been. “Thank you, Troy,” she said softly. She walked toward him, and for a minute he thought she was going to hug him, as she’d been so quick to do in the past.

  But she walked right by him to catch up with her son and grandfather. She bent over, embraced Xavier from behind and spoke into his ear.

  The boy let out a cheer. “Way to go, Mama! Come on!”

  They hurried ahead, leaving Troy to hop along on his crutches, matching Angelica’s grandfather’s slower pace.

  “Guess you hired her,” the old man said.

  “I did.”

  “Now you listen here.” Camden stopped walking, narrowed his eyes, and pointed a finger at Troy. “If you do anything to hurt that girl, you’ll have me to contend with.”

  Troy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was doing this family a favor, but he couldn’t expect gratitude, not with the history that stood between them. “I have no plans to hurt her. Hoping she’ll be a help to me until I’m back on my feet.” He glanced down. “Foot.”

  “Humph.” Camden turned and started making his way toward the barn again. “Heard you fell off a roof. Fool thing to do.”

  Troy gritted his teeth and swung into step beside Camden. “According to my brother and dad, you’ve done a few fool things in your day.” This was a man who’d repeatedly refused a massive financial package that would have turned his family’s lives ar
ound, all in favor of keeping his single-acre farm that stood in the middle of the Hinton holdings.

  Not that Troy blamed the old man, particularly. Troy’s father was an arrogant, unstable man with plenty of enemies. Including Troy himself, most of the time.

  Even after Homer Camden’s health had declined, forcing him to move into the Senior Towers, he clung stubbornly to the land. Rumor had it that his house had fallen into disrepair and the surrounding fields were nothing but weeds.

  Not wanting to say something he’d regret, Troy motored ahead on his crutches until he reached Xavier and Angelica, who’d stopped at the gate.

  “If you wait there,” he said to them, “I’ll let the dogs out into the runs.” The breeze kicked up just as he passed Angelica, and the strawberry scent of her hair took him back seven years, to a time when that smell and her gentle, affectionate kisses had made him light-headed on a regular basis.

  “Wait. Mr. Hinton.” Xavier was breathing hard. “Thank you...for giving Mama...the job.” He smiled up at Troy.

  Troy’s throat constricted. “Thank you for talking her into doing it,” he managed to say, and then swung toward the barn.

  He was going to do everything in his power to make that boy well.

  Inside, joyful barks and slobbery kisses grounded him. His dogs ranged in age and size but tended toward the large, dark-coated bully breeds. The dogs no one else wanted to take a risk with: pit bulls, aggressive Dobermans and Rotties, large mutts. They were mixed in with older, sicker dogs whose owners couldn’t or wouldn’t pay the vet bills to treat them.

  He moved among them, grateful that he’d found his calling in life.

  Yes, he was lonely. Yes, he regretted not having a family around him, people to love. But he had his work, and it would always be there. Unlike people, dogs were loyal and trustworthy. They wouldn’t let you down.

  He opened the kennel doors to let them run free.

  When he got back outside, he heard the end of Homer Camden’s speech. “There’s a job might open up at the café,” he was saying, “And Jeannette Haroldson needs a caregiver.”

  For some reason that went beyond his own need for a temporary assistant, Troy didn’t want the old man to talk her out of working for him. “Look, I know you’ve got a beef with the Hintons. But it’s my dad and my brother who manage the land holdings. My sister’s not involved, and I just run my rescue.”