by Irene Hannon
Kate frowned. Even though Eric had made it clear that this wasn’t a date, it had all the trappings of one. And that made her conscience twinge, as if she were somehow cheating on Jack. Which was ridiculous, of course. She loved Jack absolutely, with a devotion that was undimmed by the years. She was simply doing a favor for someone who had gone out of his way to be kind to her. There was no reason to feel guilty, she admonished herself sternly.
Resolutely she picked up her purse and stepped into the hall. Sarah glanced up from her perch on the couch and smiled as Kate approached.
“You look pretty, Mommy.”
“Thanks, honey.”
“I wish I could go to the party, too.”
Kate’s heart contracted and she sat down beside Sarah. She already felt incredibly guilty about leaving her daughter with a sitter—even if it was Anna—on a weekend, and Sarah’s innocent comment was enough to send a pang through her heart. For just a moment she was tempted to back out on Eric. But she owed him this, she reminded herself. Just as she owed Sarah as much time as possible on her days off to make up for all the hours during the week when they had to be apart. It was a perennial dilemma, this conflict between her daughter’s needs and other obligations. But she had promised Eric. And Sarah would be fine for one night with Anna, she assured herself.
“I wish you could, too, honey. But it’s a grown-up party. And when Dr. Eric asked me to go with him I thought I should, since he was so nice to us. If it wasn’t for Dr. Eric, we would never have met Aunt Anna,” Kate reminded her, using the affectionate title for the older woman that she and Anna had decided upon.
“I like Aunt Anna,” Sarah declared. “She said we would make cookies tonight and watch Mary Poppins. Have you seen that movie, Mommy?”
“Uh-huh. You’ll like it. And I might even be back before it’s over.”
The doorbell rang, and Kate reached over to give Sarah a quick hug. “That’s Dr. Eric now. Run and get your sweater and then we’ll take you over to Aunt Anna’s.”
As Sarah scampered toward her bedroom, Kate rose and walked slowly to the door. She still felt ill at ease, but she tried to suppress her nervousness. After all, Eric seemed like a nice man. He wasn’t looking for anything more than companionship. And she had been a pretty good conversationalist at one time, even if her skills were a bit rusty. Maybe she’d even have fun, she told herself encouragingly. But she knew that possibility was remote. Fun didn’t play much of a role in her life these days. She reached for the knob and sighed. Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if—
The sight of Eric’s broad shoulders filling her doorway cut off her thought in mid-sentence and her polite smile of welcome froze on her face. He looked different today, she thought inanely, her lips parting slightly in surprise as she stared at him. More…human. And he exuded a virility that had been camouflaged beneath his clinical demeanor, white coat and stethoscope during their last encounter in his office. At work he looked professional and slightly remote, and his role was clear. In his present attire—khaki trousers and a cobalt-blue golf shirt that hugged his muscular chest and matched the color of his eyes—he seemed to be playing a much less precisely defined role. It was an unsettling and intimidating change. Yet his eyes—warm and genuine and straightforward, even while reflecting some other emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on—helped to calm her jitters.
Eric watched the play of emotions on Kate’s face as he struggled to control his own expression. Her smile of welcome had faded to a look of surprise, and her slightly parted lips, along with the pulse that began to beat in the delicate hollow of her throat, clearly communicated her nervousness. She looked vulnerable and scared…and very, very appealing, he thought, as his heart stopped, then raced on. By anyone’s definition, her simple sundress was modest, hinting at—rather than revealing—her curves. But the white piqué was a perfect foil for her dark hair and eyes. She wore a delicate gold chain at her neck, and his eyes lingered for a moment on the spot where it rested against the creamy skin at the edge of her collarbone.
Eric swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, fighting a swift—and disconcerting—surge of panic. Until this moment he’d felt somehow insulated from Kate’s beauty, gentle manner and earnest efforts to do the right thing for her daughter. He’d admired her, but he’d felt in control and able to keep a safe emotional distance. Suddenly he didn’t feel at all in control. Or safe. Or distant.
But that wasn’t her problem, he reminded himself. He’d just have to deal with his own surprising reaction later. Right now he needed to make her relax. And that would be no small chore, he realized. The pulsating shimmer of her gold chain clearly suggested accelerated respiration, indicating that she was as nervous about this setup as he suddenly was. Not a good sign.
Deliberately he tipped his lips up into a smile, and when he spoke his voice was warm and friendly—but purposely not too friendly. “Hello, Kate. I…”
“Hi, Dr. Eric.” Sarah burst into the room, dragging her sweater by one sleeve.
He grinned at Kate as Sarah’s exuberant entrance dissipated the tension in the room, then he squatted down beside his small patient and touched her nose. “Hello, Sarah. Are you still having those tummyaches?”
“No. They’re all gone. You must be a very good doctor.”
He chuckled. “I think maybe Dr. Anna can take the credit for your cure.”
Sarah gave him a puzzled look. “Is Aunt Anna a doctor, too?”
He smiled. “In some ways. She always used to make me feel better after I fell off my bike and scraped my knees.”
“I like her,” Sarah declared.
“So do I.”
“We’re going to make cookies tonight and watch Mary Poppins.”
“Now that sounds like fun.”
“You can come, too,” Sarah offered.
“I’d like to. But I promised my friend I’d come to his party. Maybe we can watch a movie together sometime, though.”
“Can Mommy watch, too?”
Eric glanced up at Kate apologetically, realizing he’d put her in an awkward position. “Sure. If she wants to.”
“Oh, Mommy likes movies. Don’t you, Mommy?”
Kate didn’t answer. Instead, she picked up her purse. “Shouldn’t we be leaving? I promised Sarah I wouldn’t be gone too long, and it’s getting late.”
He rose slowly, aware that she was laying out the ground rules for tonight. Clearly, it was going to be a short evening. Still, it was better than nothing, he consoled himself. Even a couple of hours in the company of adults, where she could laugh and relax, might help chase the haunted look from her eyes.
“Yes, we should.”
As he turned toward the door the phone rang, and Kate hesitated. Then she sighed. “I’d better get it. It will only take a minute.”
“No rush.”
Although Sarah’s chatter kept him occupied during Kate’s absence, Eric took the opportunity to glance around her modest apartment. There was a small living room, a tiny kitchenette with a counter that served as a dining table, and—judging by the three doors opening off the short hallway—apparently two bedrooms and a bath. The unit was barely large enough for two people, let alone three, he concluded with a frown. How had they managed in such a confined space when her mother was alive?
Apparently there’d been no choice. His mother had mentioned Kate’s comment about her finances being depleted, and this tiny, older apartment was eloquent testimony to a tight budget. Yet she’d made it a home, he realized, noting with appreciation the warm touches that gave the rooms a comfortable, inviting feel. One of Sarah’s drawings had been framed and hung on the wall. A cross-stitched pillow rested on the couch. Green plants flourished in a wicker stand by the window. And several family photos were prominently displayed.
His eyes lingered on the photo on top of the television. Kate was holding a tiny baby and a man sat next to her, on the edge of a couch, his arm protectively around her shoulders. Jack. Eric recognized him from
the night of the accident. And on the opposite wall hung a wedding picture in which Kate and Jack were slightly younger—and obviously very much in love.
“That’s my daddy,” Sarah declared, noting the direction of Eric’s gaze.
He smiled down at her. “That’s what I thought. He looks very nice.”
Sarah turned to study the picture gravely. “Mommy says he was. She says he loved me very much.” She transferred her gaze to the photo on the TV. “That’s me in that picture, when I was a baby. That’s my daddy, too. I don’t remember him, though. He went to heaven right after I was born.”
Eric felt his throat tighten, but before he could respond Kate spoke from the hallway.
“I’m sorry for the delay. We can go now.”
He looked up, and the raw pain in her eyes tugged at his heart.
“Did you know my daddy?” Sarah asked Eric, oblivious to Kate’s distress.
With an effort he withdrew his gaze from Kate’s and glanced back down at Sarah. “No. I wish I had,” he said gently.
“So do I. Then you could tell me what he was like. Mommy tells me stories about him, but sometimes she cries and it makes me sad.”
“Sarah! That’s enough about Daddy!” Kate admonished, her face flushed. When she saw Sarah’s startled gaze, her eyes filled with dismay and she gentled her tone. “You don’t want to keep Aunt Anna waiting, do you? She’s probably all ready to make those cookies.”
A slightly subdued Sarah walked to the door. “We were waiting for you, Mommy,” she pointed out in a hurt voice that only made Kate feel worse.
Sarah talked nonstop to Eric during the short drive, and when they dropped her off, Anna wished them a pleasant evening and told them not to hurry. “We’ll have lots of fun, won’t we, Sarah?”
The little girl nodded vigorously, and Kate bent down beside her.
“You be a good girl, now. And Mommy will be back soon.” Her voice sounded artificially bright, and the slight, almost-unnoticeable catch at the end tugged at Eric’s heart.
“Okay.”
It was Kate who seemed reluctant to part, he noted. Sarah seemed perfectly happy to spend the evening with his mother. Kate confirmed his impression as they drove away.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve ever left her with a sitter, except for day care,” she admitted, her voice slightly unsteady.
“She’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “She and Mom get along famously.”
“I know. And I’m grateful. But I feel guilty for leaving her with someone when I don’t have to.”
“You need a life, too, Kate,” he gently pointed out. “Apart from Sarah. When was the last time you went out socially?” He caught her surprised glance out of the corner of his eye and turned to her apologetically. “Sorry. That’s none of my business. But I have the impression you don’t get out much, other than to your job. That’s not healthy.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“I’m not a psychiatrist. But balance is important to a healthy lifestyle.”
“From what your mother has told me, it sounds like maybe you need to take your own advice.”
He grimaced. “Touché. I do spend a lot of hours at work. But I also take time occasionally to socialize. Like tonight.”
Kate turned to stare out the front windshield. “I want to be with Sarah, Eric. It’s not a chore. Besides, I don’t know that many people here. We lived in Cincinnati until a few months before Sarah was born. When we first moved to St. Louis we were too busy fixing up our house to socialize. And afterward… Well, I had no time to make friends. I was with Jack every minute I could spare. Since he died, I simply haven’t had the interest or the energy to meet people. Besides, Sarah is all I need.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe she needs more?” he suggested carefully.
Kate frowned. “Like what?”
“Friends her own age. Is she involved in any activities with other children?”
Kate stiffened. “There aren’t many children in our apartment complex. And there’s nowhere for her to play unless I take her to the park down the street. We get along, Eric. It’s not ideal, but then, nothing is.”
Eric could sense Kate’s tension in her defensive posture. Not a good way to start their evening, he realized. It was time to back off.
“I didn’t mean to be critical, Kate. You’re right. Nothing is ideal. And your social life is none of my business. But I appreciate your willingness to help me out tonight. You’ll like Frank and Mary. And maybe we’ll both have some fun.”
There was that word again. “Fun.” It seemed so foreign, so distant. She could hardly remember what it was like to indulge in pure, carefree fun with other adults. And she didn’t expect her memory to be jogged tonight.
But much to her surprise, it was.
Kate wasn’t sure at exactly what point she began to relax and enjoy herself. Maybe it was when Frank told the hilarious story about how he and his wife met after Mary ran into his car. Or maybe it was when Mary learned that she and Kate liked the same author, then loaned her the woman’s latest book, even though Kate protested that she never had time to read anymore. “Make time,” Mary said, and extracted a promise that Kate would call her to talk about the book after she finished it. Or maybe it was when she got coaxed into a game of lawn darts, and much to everyone’s surprise—including her own—proved that she had an incredibly accurate aim by trouncing one challenger after another.
All Kate knew was that suddenly she found herself laughing—and relaxing. It took her by surprise, but it also felt good. So good, in fact, that for a moment it made her eyes sting as she recalled the fun and laughter that had once been part of her normal, everyday existence. Nothing had been “normal” in her life for years, but tonight reminded her of what she had once had—and so often had taken for granted. This brief reprieve from the deep-seated sadness that had shrouded her existence for so long was like a life vest thrown to one adrift, and she clung to it greedily. Even if it only lasted tonight, she thought, it gave her a precious moment in the sunlight after years of darkness.
As Kate won her fourth round of lawn darts, Frank held up his hands in defeat. “That’s it. I give up. I’m not a glutton for punishment. I duly declare Kate the Queen of Lawn Darts. And now I think it’s time to move on to something more important. Let’s eat.”
Mary poked him in the ribs good-naturedly. “Is that all you ever think about? Food?”
He glanced down at her five-months-pregnant girth and grinned. “Obviously not.”
She blushed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole,” she declared. “Let’s eat.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” he teased.
Kate watched their affectionate interplay with both amusement and envy. She and Jack had once shared that kind of closeness, where a look spoke volumes and a simple touch could unite two hearts. Even after all these years, whenever she saw a couple communicating in that special nonverbal way reserved for those deeply in love, her heart ached with the realization that for her those golden days were gone forever.
Eric saw the sudden melancholy sweep over Kate’s face, and he frowned. He’d been keenly attuned to the nuances in her mood all evening, watching with pleasure as her initial uncertainty and subdued demeanor gave way to tentative smiles and then relaxed interaction. Eric was taken aback the first time he heard her musical laugh, then entranced by it. He was captivated when her eyes occasionally sparkled with delight. And he was charmed by her unaffected beauty and unconscious grace. It had been an incredible transformation—and he intended to do everything he could to sustain it.
“Did I hear someone say food?” he asked, coming up quickly behind her.
Mary gave him a rueful grin. “You men are all alike.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” her husband countered with a wink. “Come on, we need to lead off or no one will eat.” He took her arm and led her purposefully toward the buffet table.
Eric nodded toward the food line. “Shall we?”
Kate stepped forward, and he dropped his hand lightly to her waist, guiding her toward the serving table with a slight pressure in the small of her back. His touch startled her at first. She knew it was an impersonal gesture, born more of good manners than attraction, yet it sent an odd tingle racing along her spine. It had been a long time since she’d been touched like this. She’d almost forgotten the sense of protection it gave her—and how good it felt. She’d missed these simple little gestures, she realized with a pang. They went a long way toward making a person feel cared for. Yet she’d never recognized their importance until they were absent. And by then it was too late to experience again and savor those special, everyday moments that truly defined a relationship.
Eric heard her small sigh and looked at her with concern as he picked up two plates. “Is something wrong?”
She summoned a smile, but it was edged with sadness. “I was just remembering that old cliché, about how you never really appreciate something until it’s gone.” Her gaze strayed to Frank and Mary, who were holding hands as they carried their plates to a table. “They’re a really nice couple.”
Eric followed her gaze, then handed her a plate. “Yes, they are. It renews your faith in romance to see two people who are obviously in love.”
They filled their plates in silence, and when they reached the end of the line he led the way toward a secluded table. Kate hesitated and glanced back toward the group.
“Shouldn’t we mingle?”
“We’ve been doing that all night. Don’t worry. Frank won’t take offense.” He deposited his plate on a table for two under a rose arbor and held out her chair. “This is a perfect spot for dinner, don’t you think?”
Kate couldn’t argue with that. It reminded her of an old-fashioned garden—the kind she’d once planned to have. Nowadays she had to content herself with a few ferns and African violets tucked into sunny corners of her apartment. She couldn’t even give Sarah a proper yard to play in, she thought dispiritedly, her gaze drifting back to Frank and Mary. Their child would be blessed with two loving parents and plenty of room to stretch his or her legs—and wings, she thought wistfully.
