Second Time's the Charm

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Hey, man, long time no see,” Jon said, greeting his lab partner at their chemistry lecture on Monday morning.

  “Yeah, what’s it been, twelve hours?”

  He’d picked Abe up at bedtime and their class was at eight in the morning, so that was about right.

  “You get the reading done?” he asked Mark as they took their seats in the back row.

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Not quite, but close.” He’d spent a while in Abraham’s room, watching the boy sleep. Thinking about how close he’d come to having permanent hearing loss.

  Back in his room, he’d had a hard time focusing, thinking of the procedure that afternoon. Needing it to go as well as the doctor predicted.

  Needing to see Lillie, too. He hadn’t heard a word from her since Thursday. And, other than when he was focused on Abe, he could think of little else.

  She’d been through so much. And deserved none of it. He needed to make things better for her somehow.

  Lillie cared about them. She was just scared. It was that fear, in fact, that told him how much she cared. She was running away.

  And somehow he had to catch her. Which was why he hadn’t agreed to not seeing her anymore. He’d just let her go for the moment.

  Until he could figure out how to help her.

  And then he’d woken up the next morning to the realization that his son was going deaf.

  “I heard that that last break-in, the one where the guy broke the glass,” Mark was saying as they waited for their professor to appear, “was one street over from you. No one was home, but he found a safe in the bedroom and took some cash. A lot of it. The sheriff called Addy sometime after midnight. Apparently they have a couple of suspects but couldn’t get hold of anyone from the county attorney’s office and wanted her opinion on something.”

  Oh, God.

  “Did Addy hear from the bar yet?”

  Mark’s fiancée, licensed to practice law in Colorado, had recently taken the Arizona bar exam to enable her to transfer her practice to Shelter Valley.

  “On Friday,” Mark said. “She’s been official for two days and is already on call.”

  Mark sounded like he was complaining, but the grin on his face told the truth.

  “So they know who’s been doing the break-ins?” Jon made himself ask the question. An informed man was an armed man.

  Shrugging, Mark shook his head. “She couldn’t tell me any more than that,” he said, and then nodded toward the front of the room where their chemistry professor had taken the podium—right on time.

  * * *

  LILLIE KEPT BUSY all morning on Monday. Too busy to dwell on that afternoon’s procedure.

  On Sunday, after having breakfast with Papa and Gayle, she’d driven to the cemetery. Visited with her son and confirmed for herself that, without a doubt, she couldn’t risk opening herself up to the possibility of loving—and losing—another child. She was strong but not that strong.

  Losing her parents had been hard. Kirk’s infidelity had been hard. Losing Braydon had almost killed her.

  As she ate her lunch in her office, she dialed her ex-husband.

  “Lil?” He picked up on the first ring.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she started, and paused. Did she really want to do this? Was it necessary?

  “I’ve been hoping you’d call, Lil,” Kirk said. “I promised I’d only call you once a week, but I’d hoped you’d call before then. Something’s happening here. Thursday...it was so great being with you—”

  “Have you been drinking?” she interrupted. She didn’t need to hear any more.

  “Only a mimosa with a client over breakfast this morning,” Kirk said. “To celebrate the closing of a deal.”

  It might only have been one. Kirk’s newfound humility could be causing him to ramble. Either way, it didn’t matter to her.

  “I’m calling to tell you that I think it’s best that you not call me anymore,” she said. Ending things cleanly might seem cruel in the moment, but in the long run it was best for both of them. “If ever I was going to feel something for you, it would have been Thursday,” she told him.

  “You just need a little time, Lil. Go back to the cemetery again. Without me there to influence you. Just feel Bray. And the family we should have had...”

  “If we should have had a family, we would have,” she said. “And I’ve already been back. This isn’t about you, Kirk. The things you did don’t even come into play here. I simply don’t feel a connection to you anymore, other than as someone I once knew.” She’d thought of little else all weekend. Braydon. Abe. Kirk. Jon.

  She wasn’t going to have a life with Jon, but knowing him had changed her. Inexplicably.

  He’d shown her her true self.

  “I don’t feel any butterflies when I’m with you—”

  “Of course not, Lillie. We’ve been married. There’s no mystery. No secrets. But that’s when real love grows.”

  Between her and Kirk there was nothing but secrets. Which was part of the problem.

  “I don’t feel any desire for you, Kirk,” she said, knowing that she was going to have to be frank to set him free.

  “We were at a cemetery, Lil, mourning our son. Of course you’re not going to feel desire.”

  “I mean period.” She had no doubts about this one. Because Jon had taught her what real desire felt like.

  “Dad told me you’d met someone. He didn’t tell me who, and I figured he was just making it up to keep me away from you. He thinks I’m going to hurt you again, but I’m not, Lil, I swear. I need you to get through this.”

  “No, you don’t. You just want me to make things easier for you.” She let his comment about Jon slide away. “And more importantly, I don’t need you, Kirk. You’re going through a difficult time, and I feel compassion for you, but I can’t be the one to help you. Leaning on me, using me, is only going to set you back further in the long run.”

  Kirk didn’t want her. He wanted what he couldn’t have. What he’d lost. Maybe because he’d grown up, come face-to-face with his deeper self and found himself lacking. Maybe his need to change was sincere. And maybe he’d even be successful. But if it was going to be real, and long lasting, he had to do it on his own. For himself.

  And, she hoped, for Ely, who was still alive and needed him.

  But Lillie didn’t need him. What was more, she didn’t love him.

  And that was why she couldn’t help him.

  * * *

  LILLIE MET JON and Abraham at the front door of the clinic, dressed in scrubs with her hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail.

  “Illie!” Abraham ran to her when he saw his second favorite person in the world.

  “Abie baby, how are you?” she asked, taking him into her arms. She barely gave Jon a glance.

  And that was just fine with him at the moment. He wanted her focused 100 percent on his son, working her magic so that Abraham would be calm and receptive and have the best chance of success.

  From then until they put Abe under, Jon wanted his son relaxed and happy. He didn’t want his son resisting the procedure.

  “We’re going to try laughing gas on him first,” Lillie told Jon as she walked them back to a private playroom for children awaiting treatment. The room was deserted.

  Setting Abraham down to play with a plastic truck that he could sit on and push with his feet, she kept an eye on him and said to Jon, “Abe has otitis media with effusion, which means that there is inflammation and fluid buildup due to his narrow ear canals, which creates a blockage to his inner ear and results in hearing loss.”

  He knew most of this. From the doctor. And his own internet research over the weekend. It still felt good, hearing it from her, and Jon listened carefully.

  She wa
sn’t his lover, or even his former lover. She was the expert who was going to help him and Abe through the coming hours.

  She was also the woman he loved. And trusted.

  And through her, he trusted the rest of the team to do their jobs to the best of their abilities. Lillie would see to that.

  “Jon? You’re staring at me.”

  Blinking, he didn’t stop looking, he just focused. “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted.

  The way Lillie’s eyes softened reminded him of the time they’d spent in his bed. She could pretend they were beyond it. But it was still there.

  “It’s understandable that you’re nervous,” she said with a little less distance. Taking his hand, she led him far enough away that Abe couldn’t overhear them. And the fact that they didn’t have to go far sent a new wave of near-panic through him.

  He could deal with this. With anything. He just didn’t want his son to have to face a world he couldn’t hear.

  “Has Abe ever had anesthesia before?” she asked. Jon shook his head. Lillie was still holding his hand. He wondered if she knew.

  “He’s a normal healthy little boy and should make it through just fine, but the doctor has to tell you the risks. He’s going to tell you that there could be an allergic reaction to the anesthetic, and if there is, they’re fully prepared to tend to that. There might be breathing difficulties. Again, they’ll be watching and take the necessary action if need be. There could be heart irregularities....”

  She dropped his hand. Swallowed. And something came over Jon. He was hit with an instinctive sense of Lillie. Of who she was, what she suffered—of her need. And knew that he and Abe could make a difference in her life.

  “His heart is fine, Lil. What happened with Braydon was horrific, and also extremely unusual. Most kids are born perfectly normal, grow up perfectly normal.”

  Lillie squared her shoulders and nodded. He felt like an idiot.

  “Illie!” Abe called out. “Dada!” Jon’s head swung in his son’s direction. Abe was standing by his truck, staring at the two of them, a frown on his face.

  “Abie baby.” Lillie reached him first, scooping him up in her arms and spinning him around before carrying him over to interest him in some other toys: a swimming mask and a book about diving for treasure. She told Abe a story about diving for his own treasure, about the mask he was going to get to wear and about the dreams he’d have.

  Abe looked from her to the oxygen mask she held, and she said, “And when you’re all done, you lift your head and I’ll be right there waiting to see what you found!”

  “Illie,” Abe said. And then, “Dada.”

  “Daddy’s right here, son.” Jon joined them. “Can Daddy dive for treasure with you and Lillie, too?”

  Abraham nodded. And Jon wished he was a religious man.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ABE WAS PREPPED and ready to go diving for treasure. Lillie stayed by his side every step of the way, doing what prep she could on her own. The fewer strangers who touched the boy, the happier he’d be.

  But she didn’t kid herself. Ear tubes were common. Almost normal. She was there, touching the boy because it made her feel better. Not because the outcome of Abe’s procedure depended on his calmness. He’d be asleep for the insertion.

  Still, the less trauma he suffered, the less chance there’d be of a raised heart rate and body temperature, and thus less chance of heart irregularities. And the less chance of nausea afterward, too.

  Abe went to sleep by the count of three. Waiting until the doctor was ready to start the actual procedure, she slipped out and met Jon in the waiting room, inviting him back to her office. It wasn’t regular protocol. While it was her job to support families through their children’s procedures, that generally meant checking in with them, not sitting with them in her office.

  As soon as Abe was out of surgery she was going to him, to be there when he woke up and sit with him through recovery, as well.

  “Any memories he has of today will be with me by his side,” she told Jon as she unlocked her office door. “The idea is that he won’t have any feelings of being alone or abandoned.”

  He looked around as he entered, seeming to pay particular attention to the certificates on the wall behind her desk.

  And then to the photo of her and her parents, taken the summer before they were killed.

  “We went to Europe,” she told Jon softly. “To Italy. It was the best.”

  He nodded, but didn’t ask her any questions. She’d wanted him to.

  “The doctor’s going to speak to you after he’s done,” she said. She had a job to do. They weren’t friends anymore. At her behest.

  Taking a seat behind her desk, she motioned to the chairs directly in front of it.

  He wandered around the room instead, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Jon had strong hands. Reliable hands. Gentle hands.

  Did he still get turned on at the sight of hers?

  Did she want him to?

  The chances of her having another child who died were slim to none. Her doctor had told her so years ago. Braydon’s malformation had had no basis in genetics. They’d run all the tests.

  During her time at the children’s hospital in Phoenix she’d helped several families with more than one long-term-care child. Their medical conditions were mostly due to genetics or drugs. But not always.

  “The doctor will give you another list of things that could go wrong,” she told Jon now. “It will be really important that you keep up with regular checks,” she told him. “If the tubes come out too early, or are left in too long, hearing loss could result.”

  Frowning, Jon sat. “He could still go deaf?”

  “Maybe not completely, but he could experience some loss. The chances are slim,” she told him, thinking about Bray again. “As long as he has regular checks.”

  This wasn’t about her. “We don’t miss his checkups. Ever.”

  “We’ll need to watch for any signs of bleeding or infection, or persistent drainage of fluid,” she added. “Blood, mucus and other secretions can block the tubes.”

  The doctor would tell him all of this but sometimes the information got lost in the telling or seemed overwhelming if you weren’t prepared. That was where she came in.

  Crossing one leg over his knee, Jon smiled at her.

  “What?”

  “You said ‘we.’”

  She had. Subconsciously. “Yes, well...”

  Lillie had no idea what she was going to say. And didn’t get a chance to say anything, as they were interrupted by a commotion in the hallway outside.

  “Lillie?”

  Haley, one of the full-time clinic receptionists, poked her head inside Lillie’s door. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

  Lillie didn’t usually have clients in her office. They had their meetings in procedure and exam rooms.

  “No problem, Haley. What’s up?”

  The door opened farther and Sheriff Richards was there. “I’m looking for Jon Swartz, Lil,” he said. “I tried him at work, and they said his son was having a procedure here today, but he’s not out in the waiting room. Bonnie had mentioned that you and he were friends....”

  “He’s right here, Sheriff.”

  Jon wasn’t smiling. In fact, the hardened expression on his face made him unrecognizable to her. And she knew, just knew, that he’d kept secrets from her, after all.

  * * *

  JON HAD WOKEN up that morning knowing that it was going to be a hard day. He’d had no idea how hard.

  “Jon Swartz?” The uniformed sheriff did not resemble, in any way, the kindly man Jon had heard about.

  He was all cop. And Jon knew this drill. Years fell away as his heart froze and he stood, put his h
ands behind his back.

  He’d known this was coming. Some part of him had known.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He heard the sheriff’s voice, waiting to feel the steel cuffs close around his wrists.

  Warm flesh curved around his upper arm instead—the sheriff’s hand, not a locking piece of metal. Richards guided Jon back down to the chair and then took the seat beside him.

  The sheriff was obviously playing nice for Lillie’s sake, but Jon was certain his tight grip hadn’t been a mistake.

  He needed to tell Lillie his story in his own way.

  He should have done it before he slept with her.

  He just hadn’t wanted to lose her.

  Jon started to stand again. He wasn’t going to do this here. Not in front of Lillie.

  The sheriff was on his feet before Jon was. “Mr. Swartz?” The words were more warning than question.

  “We don’t need to tie up Ms. Henderson’s time with our business,” Jon said, his voice and expression giving no hint whatsoever to the turbulence roiling inside him—a skill he’d learned at a young age.

  “Agreed,” Richards said, “but I’d like you to come with me.” Jon hadn’t doubted that for a second. By the stoniness of Richards’s expression Jon figured the sheriff already had him tried and convicted.

  He wasn’t in Atlanta anymore. And he wasn’t a kid, either. Wasn’t protected by the juvenile court system, or held accountable only until his eighteenth birthday. That had all come and gone.

  Lillie’s cheeks were white, her eyes wide. And Jon had one thought.

  He couldn’t let the state take his son.

  “Keep Abe for me,” he said to her, knowing that she loved his son enough to do as he asked, even if she didn’t want to. Knowing that he was manipulating that love to make certain that his wish was granted. “If it comes to it, I’ll sign whatever papers I have to sign to give you temporary guardianship.”

  The sheriff coughed, but he didn’t move. Not until he had her promise.

  “Lil, please?” He’d beg if he had to. Not for himself. Never for himself, but for his son.

  Seeing her nod, Jon set his keys on her desk and, turning, followed the sheriff out to his car.