“I do,” he said, sitting on a stool across the eating bar from her.
“Oh, no.” Anna whirled to face him. “I didn’t think to ask her.”
“Don’t worry. She’s dubious about most vegetables right now. I cook ’em and put ’em on her plate. I haven’t been insisting she actually eat them, because she was only here every other weekend. I figured her mother was fighting that battle.”
“I hope not,” Anna said. “Turning it into a war makes kids less willing to surrender.” Right. Lecture him on parenting, why don’t you?
“Yeah?” He sounded wry. “Well, then, either my instincts were right, or I was being a typical noncustodial father trying to persuade his kid that it’s fun to visit daddy because he’s never mean enough to make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”
Curiosity overcame Anna. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”
Another twist of his mouth. “I don’t think so. Truthfully, she’s gotten increasingly shy with me, which limited our activities and conversation.”
“Divorce has to be hard for kids.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the world? In her frustration with Kyle, she’d seriously considered leaving him, but had known it wouldn’t be best for the kids. He annoyed her sometimes when he allowed or even encouraged them to break rules she’d set, but he was otherwise a good father who had spent a lot of time with Jenna and Josh. Kyle had loved his kids. Divorce would have devastated them. And then there’d been the financial considerations. Always money.
Now there was even less money, and they’d lost their father, anyway.
Lowering his voice, Nate said, “I told you I’ve been worrying about Sonja’s drinking. I suspect Molly was scared, but determined not to betray her mother, which kept her wary with me.”
“That sounds right.” The timer went off, and she lifted the pot to dump the spaghetti into the colander she’d already set in the sink. “I’ll dish up for you and Molly, and take enough for the three of us back to the apartment. I hope you don’t mind me cooking for all of us at the same time.”
He stared at her in apparent astonishment. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t we sit down and eat together? The kids are obviously getting along.”
Anna hesitated. She wanted to escape...and she didn’t. It would look odd if she divvied up dinner and escorted her children to eat at the small table in the rather bare apartment. “Okay,” she agreed, “but just tonight. You and Molly shouldn’t have to sit down to dinner with a bunch of other people.”
“A bunch of other—”
She talked right over him. “There should be plenty left over for the two of you tomorrow night. You can reheat it in the microwave.”
“Anna—”
She shook her head at him without quite meeting his eyes. She couldn’t afford to spend too much time with him, to succumb to his charm or his obvious love for his daughter, which she hadn’t expected, given what his ex-wife had said.
“I’m here to provide day care. That’s all. Well, except for some cooking, and why not, when I have to do that, anyway.”
He frowned, but kept his mouth shut this time.
“Will you tell them to turn off the game and go wash their hands?” she asked.
“I can do that.”
Within minutes, they were all seated at the large table in the dining alcove. There were eight chairs, so she put out place mats that clustered them at one end of the table. She suspected it could be extended to seat considerably more people. Did Nate often entertain? Or had he quit after he and Sonja separated?
“Spaghetti!” Jenna crowed, as Anna dished up for her. “That’s my second-favorite dinner.”
Nate raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s your first favorite?”
“Macaroni and cheese. I like it from a box, but Mom’s is good, too.”
Smiling, Anna shook her head. “How kind of you to say so.”
Nate, seated to her left, murmured, “Damned with faint praise.”
He hadn’t been quiet enough. Jenna’s eyes widened. “Mommy says that’s a bad word.”
“You’re right. It is. I apologize.”
Josh said, “I know some bad words. Sometimes it’s hard not saying them.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “I won’t ask where you’ve learned them.”
“Jaden’s stepfather swears a lot.” He sounded impressed. “Even Coach forgets and does sometimes.”
“Wonderful.”
She heard the low chuckle from beside her.
“Do you say bad words a lot?” Jenna asked him, looking interested.
“Only sometimes, and I try not to around Molly. Some words are okay for adults, but not for kids.”
“Why?”
“Ah...” He glanced at Anna in a silent plea for help.
“Because if you used those words, you’d shock other kids and their parents and even teachers. Anyway, there is almost always a better way to express yourself. You’re at an age when your language skills should be developing, and swearing is a way of cheating when you could think of more descriptive words.”
Her always-inquiring daughter kept asking questions that Josh seconded. Anna couldn’t help noticing that Molly stayed quiet and looked alarmed. Would she have been shut down if she asked too many questions, or the wrong ones? Anna hoped not. She didn’t see any indication that Nate minded, though, or thought her kids’ directness was inappropriate.
Jenna didn’t quite finish even the small portion Anna had given her. At routine medical checkups, she was above the eightieth percentile in height, but averaged only the twentieth in weight. Fine-boned and skinny, she was perpetually in motion—although her mouth got the biggest workout.
To Anna’s gratification, Molly ate every bite of spaghetti, and Josh and Nate both had seconds. Jenna ate only half of one of the snickerdoodles Anna had baked earlier, but Molly and Josh scarfed down a couple, and Nate had at least four.
Then Josh slid off his chair. “Can we go back to our game?”
“For a few minutes,” she said, using a firm tone he understood. “Once I have the kitchen clean, we’ll go to our apartment and let Molly and her dad have some time to themselves.”
“But there’s nothing to do there,” he whined.
She raised her eyebrows. “No homework?”
He sneaked a glance at Molly, who scrunched up her face. “Hardly any,” he mumbled.
“Uh-huh.”
They raced off before she could ask them to carry their own plates to the sink. Maybe it was just as well; the dishes were nicer than anything she used for everyday and would shatter if the kids were careless.
Nate stood at the same time she did, picking up his own plate and silverware, as well as Molly’s. Her broccoli remained untouched. “I saw her watching your two eating the evil stuff,” he said with amusement, “but she wasn’t persuaded.”
Anna wrinkled her nose. “To tell you the truth, I’m not that crazy about it, either. I’d never admit that in my kids’ hearing, though. It’s healthy.”
“It’s not my favorite, either. For future reference, Molly will eat green beans. Salads, with a bunch of vegetables mixed up together, are a big no.”
“Asparagus?” Carrying more plates, she followed him to the kitchen.
“Not a chance.”
“Well, then, I won’t worry about her likes and dislikes.” She set down her load of dishes beside the sink. “I’d like to know your tastes, though.” She hesitated. “That is, if you want me to cook for the two of you on weeknights.”
He leaned a hip against the counter and looked searchingly at her, a faint frown showing in the lines between his eyebrows. “Anna, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You wouldn’t be. If it’s a help, I don’t mind doing it. If not, that’s okay, too. You’ve given me a chance to...regroup. I’m grateful,
even if I haven’t said so.”
His mouth quirked. “I think you have. You just don’t want to be grateful.”
“No, I let myself—” Whoa! Had she been about to admit to Nate Kendrick, of all people, how much of her independence she had surrendered to Kyle?
“You let yourself?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like needing help.”
Those disconcerting eyes gave the impression of seeing deeper than she liked. “I have noticed that,” he said. “And, if it’ll make you feel better, I’d be thrilled if you’d have dinner ready, at least some nights. On my own, I’ve gotten in the habit of grabbing a meal downtown before I head home, or having something simple. I guess you noticed how bare the cupboards were.”
“I did stock them,” she admitted.
“You saved the receipt?”
“I did.” She nodded toward the built-in desk that was part of the kitchen. “It’s over there.”
“I’ll write you a check before you go.”
“There’s no hurry.” Trying to indicate that they were done, she opened the dishwasher.
His big hand settled on her shoulder. Anna jumped, a ripple of reaction skittering down her spine. What was he—?
“You cooked, I’ll clean.” Ending the physical contact, he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll them up. “No argument.”
“But—”
Nate raised dark eyebrows.
“Can I put away the leftovers?”
“Sure.” He went to the table for more dirty dishes. “Take some with you, if you’re determined not to eat with us tomorrow.”
“Okay. Um, shouldn’t you change shirts before you do this?”
He didn’t hide his amusement. “Afraid I’ll get spaghetti sauce on my white shirt?”
Probably blushing, she said, “It does stain. And I’m betting you didn’t buy that shirt off the shelf at a department store. It would be a shame to ruin it.”
“You’re right.” He was grinning. “I’ll run upstairs and change before I finish, if that’ll make you feel better.”
She didn’t respond, wanting to send the message that nothing he did or didn’t do could affect her state of mind—even if it was a lie. Hunting for plastic storage containers gave her an excuse not to look at him.
If she really hustled, maybe she could be ready to usher her kids out—well, up the connecting staircase—by the time he returned.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ANNA AWOKE TO find she’d jerked up to a sitting position on the sofa, the sound of a broken sob in her ears. Alarm pulsed through her. Was it one of the kids? They’d both had nightmares in the first weeks after Kyle’s death.
But the apartment was dark, and not a sound came from the bedroom. Even so, she untangled herself from her comforter and slipped quietly to the bedroom door, where she could see a lump in each of the twin beds. The smaller one remained beneath the covers. The larger—Josh—had thrown them partially off, as he usually did. An arm dangled off the side of the bed, and a pajama-clad leg was visible in the dim lighting filtering between blinds.
Anna retreated as silently as she’d come. Her heart was still pounding hard. She’d have liked to turn on a light, but didn’t want to risk waking either of the kids. She went back to the sofa, where she could see the digital clock on the end table—4:33 a.m.
Sinking down, she clutched her bedding around herself, chilled even though the apartment was at a comfortable temperature. She’d been dreaming, she knew that. Vivid, real dreams. Dampness seeped from her eyes even as she closed them, seeing Kyle’s lopsided grin. He’d been teasing her, as he so often did, until she couldn’t resist him.
Pain wrapped around her rib cage. She was the serious one, the worrier, but he’d always been able to make her laugh. Even making love wasn’t serious to him; in his eyes, it ought to be fun.
Everything was fun to him, she thought, but didn’t feel the usual irritation or even exasperation. Tonight’s dream had been evocative, almost a slap in the face, and she knew why. Nate was so compelling, the sexual pull so powerful, he already threatened to loom too large in her life, overshadowing her husband.
She’d needed this reminder that, however flawed, Kyle had also been a good man. A loving one. It wasn’t only the kids he’d loved, she knew. He’d always been perplexed at her frustration with him. He’d believed they were happy, up to the very end. And maybe that was because he hadn’t really listened to what she was saying, was often blind to what other people thought. But a person who could take life so blithely was also disarming.
She accepted a truth she’d blocked out: she had still loved him, however diminished her faith in him had been. Despite everything, it wasn’t only for the kids that she’d stuck to her marriage. Even at her angriest, she had shied from picturing Kyle’s face if she said those brutal words, I want a divorce. How could she do that to him?
Drawing her legs up so she could wrap her arms around them and rest her forehead on the bony caps of her knees, Anna cried. Her mouth opened in a silent wail. The comforter soaked up the tears.
I was so mad at you, but I loved you. I did.
If only he could hear her. Could know.
Gradually the grief released her into numbness. No, not that—exhausted peace. She remembered him sitting beside her at that picnic table, his pose one of complete relaxation. No, no, his boss thought it was great that he was so involved with his kids, didn’t leave their raising to his wife. She’d wondered then and still wondered whether that had been true. Had the boss said any such thing? Or had Kyle just called in sick? He was incapable of guilt.
She wiped her wet cheeks. Why wonder about something that no longer mattered? What did matter was that Kyle had been utterly contented. The day was sunny, he hadn’t had to work, his beautiful wife—he often said that—was equally contented beside him, and his kids were having a great time.
Before he plunged into that river, he’d been a happy man. All was well in his world. Anna had no doubt at all that he’d been placidly certain she loved him.
He hadn’t needed her reassurances. And she couldn’t imagine that any part of Kyle lingered. He’d been a carefree soul who let other people’s annoyance brush by without sticking to him.
Her lips trembled in a smile. She had to keep his memory alive for the kids. Thank goodness, she had some short videos and lots of pictures on her phone and computer. In one of those plastic totes destined for storage, she’d kept love letters he’d written when they were separated for a year after he graduated from college ahead of her. They were silly, like he so often was, and sweet, too. When Josh and Jenna were old enough, she’d excise anything sexual and let them read the letters.
It was past time she got over her anger at Kyle and truly grieved.
Now she had to pee, so she tiptoed to the bathroom, closing the door before she turned on the light. She thought she might be able to sleep again.
Once she lay down, though, she kept thinking about him and about her current circumstances. Maybe she’d been able to remember what was good about Kyle because she felt almost safe, however temporary that state was. That would be better than the alternative—that the dreams had come because she had felt an unsettling attraction to Nate Kendrick.
She’d tried hard to be fair to Nate. Maybe tried too hard, and she knew why. Kyle had taken the day off work because he didn’t care all that much about his job. He’d volunteered to go with her on the field trip. “We deserve to have a fun day,” he’d said. So often, she’d been angry because he’d never really committed himself to any job. Nate was committed. Anna had overheard Sonja calling him a workaholic as if that was a bad thing. She’d actually felt envy. The surprise was that he had agreed to come along on the outing in the first place.
And yet, apparently, he had, and then broken his promise. If Sonja was to be believed, he often did. Lying here in
the dark, memories of Kyle close, Anna knew she did blame Nate. She didn’t have to be fair. If he’d gone on the outing like he’d promised, Molly would never have been able to slip away on her own. Kyle would not be dead. Those were truths, the ones that counted to her.
Anna didn’t blame herself for accepting Nate’s offer. Kyle had sacrificed himself to save Molly, and Molly needed Anna now. But she needed to keep Nate at a distance, quit pretending they were in this together, could even be friends.
And, most of all, she had to prevent herself from responding sexually to the tall, dark man whose brooding intensity parted like storm clouds to reveal a sense of humor and dedication to his daughter.
An uneasy thought stirred. Unlike Kyle, Nate Kendrick was capable of feeling guilt. In her anger, she’d rejoiced knowing that. Now...it was undeniably disturbing to know that ability said something positive about him.
So what? If only for the memory of the man she’d loved, she couldn’t forgive or forget.
* * *
WEDNESDAY, THE MINUTE Nate walked in the door at home, he felt the chill, as if he’d entered a refrigerated compartment. It emanated from Anna, who stepped out of the family room to meet him with a cool nod, her blue eyes guarded.
“I’ve labeled the leftovers with instructions for reheating, and made a salad for you. There’s also French bread and cookies on the counter. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
“Did everything go smoothly today?” He couldn’t imagine she was annoyed to have him coming home so late, almost seven o’clock. She knew his hours were variable and had calmly, without comment, taken his quick call letting her know.
“Yes. Molly didn’t seem to mind going to Josh’s practice. She’s eaten, needless to say.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She went back into the family room, where the kids sat around the coffee table. They seemed to be in the midst of a game of Chinese checkers, which he’d forgotten they even owned. “Time to put that away,” she said.
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