Hearts in Harmony

by Gemma Brocato

  She grabbed an iPod out of her bag, crossed the room and slipped it onto the docking station on the counter. Steve eased Mom’s hand out of the clenched state it had curled into when they stopped, splaying the fingers across the surface of the drum. A rhythmic beat burst from the player and Clay recognized a Black Eyed Peas song his mother loved. He grinned when her fingers began to twitch in time with the music.

  “Okay, Seeley. This is your moment. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Pip sat back down and put her hands on Mom’s knees, tapping along with the beat, while Steve supported her wrist again. “I love this song. It makes me want to move. You too, huh?”

  A huge crooked grin lit Mom’s face as she kept time, tapping it harder each time the boom, boom, pow refrain sounded from the player. Clay stood up to watch, slapping his hand against his thigh in time with the music as Steve and Pippa focused their attention on his mom’s movements. Mom sang along without stuttering.

  “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

  Pippa laughed over her shoulder at him. “You say that a lot, you know. We need to work on your vocabulary.”

  “Maybe, but, Jesus, look at her—” He stopped abruptly. His mom, who’d suffered from an unnatural stillness for the last six weeks, moved not just her fingers, but her toes as well. Her right foot, while not exactly tapping, jerked on the footrest.

  His throat closed up and he blinked against the stinging sensation behind his eyes. Until this moment, he’d wondered whether he’d ever get his vibrant mother back. He’d felt helpless as her frustration surged with each passing day. She’d have two great days with physical therapy but then she’d backslide, each payback day adding to the bitterness evident in her eyes when he visited.

  He’d sat with her every day after Steve had worked with her, leaving her exhausted, with disappointed tears rolling down her cheeks. Clay knew the tears made her mad, because she hated to cry, especially in front of people. He’d witnessed her stoic strength after first his dad, and then her second husband, died. When she’d hidden behind closed doors to release grief and anguish in ragged sobs after his stepfather died, his heart broke. His mom had never let him see her in anything other than a happy state of mind. It was just her way.

  The song ended and Pippa jumped up and turned off the player as the next selection began, plunging the room into silence for a moment.

  When Mom sang out one more boom, boom, pow everyone laugh giddily.

  Billy had stepped into the room as the music ended, to take her back to her room. The orderly glared at Clay.

  He ignored the look, walked over to his mom and bent low to squeeze her shoulder.

  “I think this might work, Mom.” Clay pressed his lips to her cheek. “It might just work.”

  “N-n-not m-m-ight…w-w-ill,” she responded.

  Clay smiled and patted her hand. “You’re right, Pollyanna. Will. You rest and I’ll be back later tonight.”

  She raised her fist, fingers twitching against the palm, as if sheer will could force them open again, and waved goodbye while Billy danced her out of room, both of them singing the refrain again.

  Clay turned his attention back to Pippa.

  And found her wrapped in Steve’s embrace.

  Well, damn! He hadn’t expected that. She’d told him last night that her life wasn’t his darned business. But she hadn’t mentioned being involved with someone else. He’d honestly believed she was still hung up on her husband.

  But there she was, with the other man’s arms possessively wrapped around her, his body molded to hers, a huge grin on her face. A quick stab of emotion made Clay clench his jaw when he identified the feeling. He was freakin’ jealous.

  Marvelous.

  He made a harsh sound of disgust from the back of his throat when Pippa pushed out of the hug and grinned into Steve’s eyes. In spite of jealousy, she charmed Clay with the little dance she did, entrancing him with her enthusiasm.

  “Did you see it? She moved her feet. She hasn’t done that so far.”

  “God, Pippa. That song was inspired. Did you see Seeley do the wheelchair boogie? She’s strong. I bet she’ll dance before she walks.”

  Hating being left out, Clay interrupted, “So Mom made progress today? It wasn’t a one-off? I have to admit I haven’t seen her that animated since she broke her leg. And you did that in thirty minutes. I’m amazed.”

  Steve looked at his watch. “Crap, I have a staff meeting two minutes ago. I’ll catch you at the next session.” He squeezed Pip’s elbow. The easy familiarity between the pair made Clay clench his fist, battling the unreasonable urge to cold cock the physical therapist. The idea of being able to casually touch Pippa made him ache in places he shouldn’t. Not in polite company, anyway. He wanted the ease and freedom Pippa and Steve shared.

  He shouldn’t be this attracted to her. She was a single mom with two little extensions who were her life. He’d never met a mother who’d get willingly involved with someone so transient. He wouldn’t stay, and the sort of casual temporary affair he wanted wouldn’t be of interest to her. And that was all it could be. As soon as his mom got better, he’d leave Granite Pointe and get back to his life.

  The thought of getting involved with Pippa Sanders excited him, even though he knew she’d expect more from him. The idea of hurting her when he left created a yawning twinge of guilt. And he would leave. No question about that. He had contracts to fulfill, a homegrown terrorist operation to stop, and stiff deadlines from his publisher. Even if she wanted to be involved with him, what he knew about Pippa generated a kind of respect that had him second-guessing his attraction to her.

  “Next session, we’ll use Lady Gaga for more arm training. Be sure you come prepared,” Pip said as she picked up her portfolio.

  “Yep. Got the platform shoes already and the funky wig will be back from the stylist by then.” Steve laughed on his way out the door.

  Leaving Clay alone with Pip for the first time since their argument.

  Pippa looked at him, a scowl etching lines deep between her brows. She propped her hands on her hips and jutted one out in a sassy manner. His level of interest ratcheted up, uncomfortably pinching the muscles in his shoulders.

  “Have I convinced you that this unproven, woo-woo, mystical quack therapy might work for your mom?” she asked, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Not entirely, but your demonstration helped. Mom obviously enjoyed the session, even though she looked exhausted toward the end. I can’t believe that the simple act of tapping your fingers is so tiring.”

  “Simple to us, but Seeley’s brain isn’t firing properly. To do what she did today—a minor movement most people take for granted—requires intense concentration and focus from her. She’s probably more mentally fatigued than physically.” She crossed to the counter under the bank of windows to retrieve her iPod. Stuffing it in her portfolio, she shouldered the bag and headed toward the door. “You’re welcome to join our next session, if you’d like. I’ve got to run now. My poor fatherless children are waiting for a ride home.”

  Clay reached for her as she passed him. He pasted a contrite look on his face, but widened his eyes at the contact of his hand on her soft skin. “Can we talk about last night? Please?” he asked. “I’d like to apologize if I offended you. Shit, I feel like I’ve done nothing but apologize since I’ve met you. I truly didn’t mean to overstep.”

  Her scowl deepened and darn it, that made her even more appealing. She’d ignored Clay while she worked with his mom, but her supposed indifference didn’t lessen the powerful attraction he’d felt since he’d met her. Nope, it flared with a vengeance. His stomach rolled and his body tensed just looking at her.

  God only knew what would happen if she held his hand or pressed those sexy lips against his.

  Clay shifted from one foot to another as the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. “Well? Am I forgiven?”

  “There’s not much to forgive. You were expressing your opinion. My husband died defending yo
ur right to free speech. But just because you have the right to your opinion, doesn’t make it right—or smart—to jump to conclusions about people you don’t know.”

  “Mom always told me my rush to judgment would get me in trouble. But I’ll be damned if I’ll feel bad for calling it like I see it. Or for offering to fill the void. What I do regret, spitfire, is hurting your feelings. For that, I am sorry.”

  She jerked her arm free. “Apology not accepted. I might have forgiven you if you hadn’t made the crack about filling a void. God, you are arrogant.”

  “I won’t die happy until I know you’ve forgiven me,” Clay said, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

  She pursed her lips, clearly annoyed by something he’d said. Hitching her bag higher, she stared him for a moment. “You shouldn’t joke about dying. It’s considered bad form when you’re speaking to a lonely widow.”

  Clay scrubbed his hand across his mouth, wiping the grin away. “Aw, shit. You’re right. And again, I’ll apologize. I am a nice guy. Just ask my mom.”

  She laughed. “Smooth, Mr. Mathers. Throwing down your mother as a character reference. Tell you what, if you’ll do something for me, I’ll consider forgiving you.”

  “Anything, spitfire. And if it involves the exchange of bodily fluid or getting horizontal, let’s start now.” She glared at him again, but before she could tell him to stuff it he said, “Sorry. What should have come out of my damn stupid mouth was what can I do for you?”

  “Good grief, you are relentless.” She gazed at him, as if considering his offer. He tried not to get his hopes up. “I forgot to get a tree last night and Mason had a bit of a meltdown about it this morning. I’d like to come out to the farm to pick one up for him.”

  “That’s it?” Well, shit. Disappointment tinged his voice, and it was ugly. Jesus, God! This woman had him all twisted up.

  “Yeah, that’s all I need from you. Sorry, no spit swapping or horizontal dances.”

  The regret in her voice overrode his disappointment with surprise. She cleared her throat and continued, “I yelled at Mason this morning and I’ve felt bad all day. I never yell at my kids. I was just…out of sorts. Picking up a tree is little thing to do to ease the stress. I’d like to bring the kids out after school this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, I can make that work. It’s quiet at the farm around four, so it’s a good time to come out. I’ll have it ready for you.”

  “Thanks. I know Mason will be very happy.”

  It would make him as happy as her son to see Pippa again.

  * * * *

  Dewey shifted again, his ass tired from sitting so long. He should be used to staying in one place for long periods of time by now. Once a funeral protest got going, nobody was allowed to leave the line. When would the stupid singing bitch leave Elder Pointe? He ground his teeth together at the memory of Clay Mathers striding in the front door, like he owned the fucking place. His involvement could be bad, but it could be a good thing too. He might finally get revenge on Clay for his role in getting Dewey booted from the military. He’d personally make sure the son of a bitch fell hard if the opportunity ever presented itself.

  He eyed the front door, evaluating the risk of running into the bitch or Mathers if he went into the building in search of a bathroom. She’d gone in three hours ago and he needed to piss. If she didn’t come out soon, he’d have to give in to nature’s call. His back teeth were already floating.

  He’d begun following her back at the shitty prison where they’d locked up his son. It was visiting day and Dewey never missed those, even though legally he couldn’t be within five hundred feet of Woodward State Hospital. There was nothing wrong with the kid that a little of the right kind of discipline couldn’t fix. Well-placed threats of violence had worked wonders with Granite Pointe’s constables in the past to get him out of a jam. And his kid being a guest of the state juvie ward constituted a big-assed jam. The boy wouldn’t stay locked up once Dewey worked his persuasive magic.

  The fact that the bitch felt a healthy dose of fear of him didn’t hurt his cause. He’d considered it a stroke of good fortune when he stumbled on Pippa after the funeral. The second he recognized her as one of the kid’s therapists, the final details of his plan to bust little Dewey Junior out fell into place. Already intimidated by confronting a random protester, she’d cave in a New York minute under his pressure to write a get-outta-jail-free pass for the kid.

  Goddamn Clay Mathers for interfering.

  That was a score Dewey would relish settling. His lips curled in a sneer. Revenge had been fifteen years in the making, and when he took it, it was going to be a thing of beauty.

  He’d decided to make a dash to the bushes across the lot to relieve his strained bladder when the door of the nursing home popped open. Dewey squinted to see who exited. About fuckin’ time.

  Answering nature’s call would have to wait a little longer. He keyed the ignition as Pippa unlocked her door and hopped in. Thirty seconds after she left, he pulled out from the secluded shelter afforded by the low-hanging branches of the old oak tree. God willing and the creek don’t rise, he was about to find out where the bitch lived. That information would put him one step closer to the goal of getting the boy sprung.

  And when he knew her address, it would be time for phase two.

  7

  Pippa swung the Jeep into a parking slot in front of the large red barn that doubled as the Sleepy T gift shop. She saw her children dance in their seats when she looked in the rearview mirror. The unmistakable sound of seat belts being released rose over their excited chatter.

  Suppressing a smile at the twins’ enthusiasm, she put a little mom into her voice. “How many times have I told you guys to wait until the car is off before you undo your seat belts?”

  “The car was stopped,” Mia pointed out.

  “Yeah, we weren’t moving,” Mason added.

  “But not off.” Pippa scolded her children.

  They glanced toward each other, sharing the silent communication she’d gotten used to over the years. Twin language they called it. More like twin non-language. They’d communicated with just looks and glances from birth.

  Both children refastened their safety harnesses and folded their hands politely in their laps, smiling angelically. She laughed and shut down the engine. It only took a second for the smiles to widen to grins and little fingers to push release buttons again. Mason reached for the door handle as she cautioned them. “Mind your manners. Mr. Mathers is doing us a favor. And Mason, be sure to thank him, okay?”

  Mason mumbled a polite yes ma’am and pushed the door open to jump out. He held the door for his sister to follow. Pippa pocketed her keys and skirted the front of the Jeep, catching up with the kids as they raced toward the barn door. Her grin faltered when the smaller door set into the larger sliding panel swung open and Clay stepped into the sunshine.

  Lordy! He looked fine. But his handsome looks alone didn’t explain why she’d give anything to spend just one night with him.

  Her steps slowed and she watched him greet her children with an easy smile. Dropping the heavy feed sack he’d been carrying, he fist bumped both kids, then assumed an easy stance, leaning on one leg with a hand propped on his hip, head bent to listen to their excited chatter. He shifted his gaze toward her, a smile warming his face as she walked toward them, but returned his attention to the kids.

  Her heart swelled a little at the unspoken compliment he’d paid her children. Most men tended to ignore young children, or treat them like babies. Not Clay. He didn’t bend over to address them on their own level the way a lot of people did. He treated them like the little individuals they were. She didn’t make a habit of introducing her children to men she dated, but they’d met a few casually. Shaking her head, she sternly reminded herself this wasn’t a date. Her kids had already met Clay, so her unwritten rule didn’t apply anyway.

  Regardless, Clay’s innate reaction to her children won points for him.

/>   So did his looks. He still wore the scuffed work boots he’d had on this afternoon. Faded jeans hugged his muscular legs. He’d shed the gray sweatshirt he’d been wearing earlier, revealing a navy blue t-shirt that stretched across his powerful chest. Biceps she knew her hands wouldn’t span bulged out of the sleeves. He’d pulled his long hair off his forehead and into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Pip’s guilty secret was that a man with long, luxurious, waving hair really turned her on. Her stomach did a slow, languorous roll at the sight of Clay laughing with her kids. He could be a sexy model right out of the LL Bean catalog she’d gotten last week. That guy was probably a jerk too.

  She gave herself a mental shake and walked toward the trio. “Hi, sorry we’re running late. Seems to be the story of my life today.”

  “No worries. Scott is just finishing the day’s chores, and is going down to the little barn to feed the chickens. If you have time, the kids can help.”

  “Please, Mom. Can we? Mr. Clay said it was okay.” Mia begged, bending at the waist, emphasizing her plea dramatically.

  Clay’s rugged laughter burst forth. “Huh. A little spitfire in training.”

  Before Pippa could respond with much more than a blush, the barn door swung open and Scott stepped through, carrying a covered pail. “I’m done mopping the floors and everything is locked up. These the little munchkins you promised would help me with the rest of my chores?” He gestured to Mason and Mia. His deep voice and over-large form should have been intimidating to six-year-olds, but her kids jumped up and down, eager to go with this giant.

  Clay grinned when she hesitated. “He’s safe as kittens. Let ’em go. They’ll have fun.”

  Still skeptical, Pippa nevertheless nodded and made shooing motions. “You can go, but mind Mr. Scott. And don’t step on any chicken poo. You’re wearing your school shoes.”

  The comical expression on Mia’s face and the eagerness in Mason’s happy dance when they received permission made her smile. Clay and Scott laughed. Mason grabbed the handle of the pail Scott carried, offering to help while Mia skipped happily behind them.