“So you said, honey. Want to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing.” Wendi’s lower lip began to quiver. “It’s stupid.”
“What’s stupid? I can’t help if I don’t know what we’re talking about.”
“I don’t want your help.”
Melissa sat down and pulled the girl close to her. At first she resisted, her frame stiff and unyielding, but gradually she relaxed until her head was on Melissa’s shoulder and her arms wrapped around her waist.
“Tell me.”
“M-Mark said I was ugly.” The confession was accompanied by harsh sobs. “I—I thought he liked me, but he doesn’t. I don’t want to be ugly.”
“What a horrid little boy. I can’t believe he said that.”
“He’s not horrid, he’s wonderful. But he hates me.” Wendi sniffed and raised her head. “Why can’t I be like my mom?”
“You are like your mother. Did this Mark person really say you were ugly? Were those his exact words?”
“N-no. He said—” She hiccuped. “He said Sally was prettier.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Shh.” Melissa drew her close again and held her. Rocking back and forth, she murmured soft words of comfort. “He’s just one boy. And if he can’t see how lovely you are, then he’s blind.”
“You think so?”
“Sure.”
Wendi leaned back and grabbed a tissue, then blew her nose. “But Sally…”
“I don’t care about Sally. I care about you. You have incredible eyes and skin. And that hair.” She touched the wavy tresses. “An all-around stunning package.”
Wendi turned away. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you have to.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re very pretty. And I find it hard to believe this Sally person is prettier than you.” She looked at Wendi’s red nose and puffy eyes. “Except maybe now, of course.”
Logan’s daughter giggled. “Yeah. I know. Mom looks awful when she cries, too.”
Hard to believe, Melissa told herself, but a cheerful thought all the same.
“Do I have to go back?” Wendi asked as she wiped her eyes.
“I’m afraid so. Just ignore Mark. Are you and Sally friends?”
“Not really. She’s kind of wimpy.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. She does all her homework and is nice to everybody.”
“Gee, she sounds great.”
Wendi rolled her eyes. “And you sound like Dad.”
“Maybe you should try and get to know Sally. Then boys like Mark won’t be able to pit you against each other.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t seem convinced.
Melissa patted her arm. “Wendi, there’s more to life than being pretty.”
The girl pulled back and glared at her. “How would you know? You’ve never been pretty.”
Melissa felt as if she’d taken a blow to her stomach. All the air rushed from her lungs with an audible sound. Shame, anger and hurt all filled her being, making it difficult to focus on anything but the child in front of her.
Wendi’s eyes got wide, and she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Melissa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Fear and regret were clearly fighting for expression, but it was too late.
“Don’t worry. It’s not wrong to speak the truth. You’re right, Wendi. I’m not pretty now and I never was. But that doesn’t make me less of a person than you or your mother.” Stiffly, not quite sure her legs would support her, she rose to her feet and walked out into the hall.
A sense of calm overtook her. She’d handled that well, she thought. And it didn’t hurt. Not at all. How could the truth hurt?
At last she reached her bedroom. For the first time in the six weeks she’d been living in the Phillips’s house, after closing the door, she turned the lock. Only then did she allow the hot tears to escape from her eyes. All the pain stored up from years of minor hurts and disappointments swelled up and threatened to overwhelm her. It was so unfair, she screamed in her mind. Why?
But there was no answer, just the faint hum of the air conditioner and the carefully muted anguish of her sobs.
“Hey, kitten, what are you doing sitting in the dark?” Logan set his briefcase on the floor and walked over to Wendi. She was crouched on the living room rug, her back to the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest.
“Daddy…”
Her voice was low and frightened. Adrenaline poured into his system, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “Is something wrong?”
“I…Melissa’s…” She looked up at him. In the half-light, her eyes seemed enormous. Guilt stole all the sophistication and left behind a scared little girl.
He squatted beside her, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. “Is Melissa injured? Do I need to call the paramedics?”
“What? Oh, no. Everything’s fine that way.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I…” She glanced down and swallowed. “I said something bad.”
All this regret over a swear word? It didn’t make sense. “Like what?”
“Oh, I can’t tell you.”
He tried to hide his smile. “Wendi, it’s highly unlikely you have come up with an obscene word I haven’t heard. I might have even used it.”
“You don’t understand. I said something that hurt Melissa’s feelings.” She bit her lip. “Daddy, is she going to go away now?”
“Wendi.” He touched her face. “Tell me what you said.”
“No. It’s too…awful.”
“Wendi.” Frustration added an edge to his voice. “Tell me.”
“I—I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Have you said that to Melissa?”
“She hasn’t come out of her room all afternoon.”
His glance flew down the hall to her closed door. “I’d better check and see if she’s okay. And you, young lady, you’d better think about what you’ve done and how you’re going to apologize.”
“I will, Daddy. Just don’t let Melissa leave, okay?”
He ruffled her bangs as he stood up. “Trust me, kid. It’ll be fine. Run on to your room. I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
He sighed. How much longer would he be able to make things better for her? She was growing up so fast. He walked to Melissa’s door and paused. If only he knew what Wendi had said, he’d have a better idea of how to set things right. Here goes nothing.
He knocked softly. “Melissa? It’s Logan.” Very smooth, Phillips. How many other men are in the house to knock on her door? “Are you all right?”
He heard the unclicking of the lock, then the door was pulled open. Melissa stood in her robe. One hand rubbed a towel against her wet head, the other clutched the lapels together. “Are you home already? I must have lost track of the time. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll be dressed in a few minutes and then…”
When he stepped inside, she took a step back. “Logan?”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I…nothing. Nothing happened.”
He wanted to believe her, but she turned away as she spoke. The full curve of her bottom lip was swollen, and there were shadows under her eyes. “You’ve been crying.”
At first he’d thought Wendi had exaggerated the situation. Twelve-year-olds weren’t known for their grasp of reality. But now, facing Melissa, he saw pain in the stiff set of her shoulders and back.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, dropping the towel and picking up a comb. “I’m fine. I just took a little nap.”
He grabbed her wrist and tugged until she was in front of him. Fresh from the shower, there was no scent of perfume, just the fragrance of the soap and shampoo and the essence that radiated from her skin. Her face was scrubbed clean; the robe gaped open slightly, allowing him a view of the top of one bare breast. Except for a length of silky fabric, she stood before him naked, raw and exposed. Even the hurt in her eyes could not be concealed.
Years ago, before he’d made the decision not to trust again, had he ever been this open? He’d always thought of Melissa as keeping herself hidden, but tonight he saw into her soul. The gentleness, the vulnerability, shamed him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sorry my daughter hurt you.”
Melissa closed her eyes. “She didn’t say anything bad. You mustn’t punish her.”
He touched her cheek. “Tell me what she said.”
“No.”
“Then how can I fix it?”
She pulled back from the contact. “You can’t.”
But she was lying. He could see the hope flickering in her eyes. She believed he had the answer, but he didn’t even know the damn question. “Tell me what to say.”
The hope died. “You don’t have to say a word. I’m fine. No, I’m better than fine, I’m terrific.” She began combing her hair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get dressed and start on dinner.”
“Dammit, I don’t want to…”
“Melissa?” Wendi stood just inside the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I—I…” Tears ran down her face.
“I know, sweetie.” Melissa stepped forward and Wendi threw herself into her arms. “Hush. I know you didn’t. It’s all right.”
“Don’t leave. Please,” Wendi cried against her shoulder.
Logan watched Melissa stroke his daughter’s hair. Helplessness left him feeling angry and useless. Being sighted was no guarantee of finding the truth, he thought. How could he fix it if he didn’t know what was wrong?
“You’re stuck with me for the summer,” she said. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”
Logan hadn’t known he was worried until relief settled around him. He would have hated to see Melissa go. Wendi depended on her for so much.
“I’m surprised you haven’t reported me to the employment development department,” Logan said as he dropped the Sunday paper onto the floor.
Melissa adjusted her hat and stared at him. It was about ten in the morning. They’d all eaten brunch and were now lounging by the pool. “Do you expect anyone to have the slightest clue as to what you’re talking about?”
He leaned toward her and grinned. “I’m talking about you!”
“Thanks. I appreciate the concern.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Almost seven weeks.”
“Exactly.”
She sipped her coffee. “Does the hired help get a gold watch after seven weeks?”
“Melissa, I’m serious.” And indeed he was. The smile had faded, leaving behind a businesslike expression. “You should have said something.”
“Like…I want a raise?”
“No. You haven’t had a day off. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I guess you just fit in so well that I assumed everything was taken care of.”
He thought she fit in. Melissa sighed softly. “I don’t need time off. Wendi’s gone more than she’s here and you have the cleaning service. This is hardly the most taxing assignment I’ve ever had.”
“Still, it’s not right. You have a life of your own. We’ve been very selfish.”
“Who’s been selfish?” Wendi asked as she strolled out of the house. A beach towel hung over one shoulder while her portable radio was tucked under the opposite arm.
“You and me.”
“I already told you. I did not eat that last cookie.”
“I was talking about Melissa. She’s been working without any free time.”
“Mrs. Dupuis used to go to the museum and then have tea at one of the department stores.”
Melissa grimaced. “Sounds like a fun time to me. I really don’t need—”
“Nonsense. I distinctly remember you telling me you kept an apartment. Don’t you want to make sure it’s still standing?”
Logan pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the table. The pale colors of his print shirt contrasted with the rich brown of his tan. Despite the fact that three feet of wrought iron and glass separated them, she could almost feel the warmth radiating from his body. Tawny eyes framed by impossibly long lashes sought out her secrets.
Sometimes, when the days stretched on endlessly and the mood was right, she allowed herself to pretend that all this was real. That Wendi was her daughter and Logan…that he came home to her, needed her, ached for her, spending, as she did, each night in restless wanting. Sometimes she prayed for a miracle.
And then there were the days like today, when rude reminders of what was real pushed themselves to the front of her mind.
“I suppose I could go there for a couple of days, if you’d like,” she said softly.
“Then it’s settled. Let’s see. Why don’t you take off until Thursday.”
“Thursday!” Wendi and Melissa spoke together.
“Daddy, she can’t—”
“Logan, I don’t—”
Logan glared at his daughter. Wendi spread her towel on one of the lounge chairs, then flung herself down.
Melissa drew in a breath. “I don’t need that much time, Logan. Why don’t I come back Tuesday?”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
She almost laughed. “I’m sure. I’ll go prepare a couple of things for you two to eat while I’m gone, then I’ll be off.”
Logan reached out and touched her hand. The contact was electric. After all this time, she should be used to the sensation of fire whenever he was near, but it still surprised her.
“We can eat out, Melissa.”
“I know. I’ll throw a couple of things together. Just in case.”
Melissa exited the freeway and turned left. Her small apartment was across town from Logan’s exclusive neighborhood and north and east of the city itself. Resting in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, was the community of Altadena.
The houses on the top of the hill were a haven for the wealthy, but her street was about a mile below. The buildings were mostly old, constructed during the 1920s. The homes were large, some soaring four stories. Many had been converted into multifamily dwellings or duplexes.
She lived in a small apartment behind the garage of one of the more modest homes. Mrs. Graham, the owner, collected her mail while she was on assignment, and Melissa’s rent check supplemented the older woman’s retirement pension. The arrangement had worked well for almost six years.
After parking on the street, Melissa grabbed her overnight case and walked around to the back door. She’d called ahead to tell her landlord she’d be by, so the box of mail was out and waiting.
“Mrs. Graham,” she called as she knocked on the screen.
“Melissa!” The elderly woman pulled open the door and ushered her inside. “How are you, child? It’s been ages. Did you see your mail?”
“Yes, thanks. I’ve been working.”
Small dark eyes, like those belonging to a perky robin, peered out of thick bifocals. Mrs. Graham was close to eighty, but she never talked about her age. She was from the old school: Health, politics and religion weren’t discussed at her table.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
Melissa shook her head. “I’d like to get settled. Maybe tomorrow we can have lunch.”
“I’d like that, dear. How long are you staying?”
“A couple of days, but I’ll be back at the end of the summer.” She walked to the door.
“Call me if you need anything.” The older woman sent her off with a plate of cookies and an admonition to get some sleep. “I see circles under your eyes, young lady.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She picked up her mail and headed through the backyard.
Fruit trees grew in wild disarray. A grapevine, once trained and decorative, threatened to engulf the garage. Slipping the key into the lock, Melissa turned the metal, then pushed open the door.
She’d always thought the apartment had been built by dolls
. Elaborate molding nudged up against the ceiling, and shutters were anchored at every window. But the rooms themselves were tiny. The living room had space for a love seat, lamp and TV. In the bedroom, the walkway between the foot of her double bed and the wall was about eighteen inches. If a mouse ever took up residence in the kitchen, they’d have to take turns using the facilities. Compared to Logan’s house, it was a closet—but it was her closet.
After unpacking her few items of clothing, she checked the cupboards. Spices, flour and a can of green beans. Not very exciting. She made a list, then went to the market. Tonight there was an old black-and-white movie on one of the local channels. Maybe in the morning, she’d walk around the mall and check out the expensive mascara.
Pulling her car into the grocery store parking lot, she sighed. She should have told Logan she didn’t want time off. But then he would have asked why, and that was one question she couldn’t answer. What would he have said if she’d admitted she’d rather be working at his house than resting alone at her own?
Logan put down the blueprint and glanced out the window. Long shadows announced the sun had passed its zenith and day was slipping into night. When had an afternoon dragged on so long? he wondered. Wendi had gone to spend the night with a friend and he was home alone. The silence wasn’t new. Yet before, he’d always known Melissa was in the house, even if he couldn’t hear her.
He stood and stretched, then walked into his bedroom. Her touch was everywhere. A fresh bowl of flowers sat in the center of the coffee table. A matching container would be set in the living room and on the kitchen table. Two casserole dishes were on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, one for tonight and another for tomorrow. The cookie jar was full, and a cake was waiting on the counter.
But it wasn’t just homemade food and fresh-cut flowers. Melissa’s presence lingered in the shadows of the house. Her words found their way into his daughter’s vocabulary—the memory of her jokes made him smile. A half-read magazine reminded him of her passion for current events. She cared for them and fit in with an ease and graciousness that left him…
He needed a woman. He needed to bury himself into waiting warmth and forget what plagued him. For several weeks he’d lived with a soft, curvy female and not given in to desire. If only Melissa was sophisticated and bound by the rules that didn’t let her get involved. Then he could take her and…
Tender Loving Care Page 11
