The Husband Recipe

by Linda Winstead Jones

  His father was another matter. Cole had gone pale. The hands that held his son were shaking. Subtly, but she saw the tremble even from a distance. A couple of people tried to help, but Cole practically bit their heads off as he headed out of the yard at a fast clip, his long legs carrying him away from the party. Meredith and Hank followed. Meredith was crying, too, and she explained in a trembling voice that she’d reminded Justin not to run but he hadn’t listened. Again, someone asked if they could help and Cole said no. He barked no. They were going to the hospital for the stitches Justin obviously needed.

  T. J. Smith offered to drive, but Cole shook him off with an expression that cut everyone out, that built a barrier around him and his family and left no room for intruders.

  Lauren stood completely still for a moment. She didn’t need to get involved. Cole didn’t want her—or anyone else—to intrude. Justin was conscious, and head wounds did bleed a lot. The child needed stitches, but he’d be fine. He hadn’t lost consciousness, which was a good sign. Right? That was all true, but dammit, there was no way she could let Cole get in the car and drive, not in his condition.

  She turned to Summer. “I have to go.” Lauren didn’t give her friend a chance to respond, she just turned and ran, cutting around the other side of the house and across the street to intercept Cole and his crew.

  It was a simple gash, bleeding heavily but not life threatening. So why was his heart beating so hard that he couldn’t see straight? The sight of all that blood on Justin’s head and face made Cole’s stomach turn. A part of the T-shirt he’d pressed to the wound was already soaked through. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to his son. He couldn’t live with himself if it turned out Janet was right and he was incapable of raising these three kids alone.

  If she found out what had happened, would she try to take the kids away from him? He sometimes suspected that she wanted to, and he knew she’d been angry that he’d moved two hours away, taking all she had left of her sister with him. She hadn’t made a secret of her displeasure.

  His worse fear was that Janet might be right, that he might not be enough for his family.

  He threw open the door to the minivan and carefully deposited Justin on the backseat. He didn’t want to let go of the kid, didn’t want to leave Justin—a ball of fire who was currently pale and bloody and not at all himself—alone. The door on the other side opened and Meredith jumped in. Cole reached into his pants pocket and grabbed his keys, glad they were in his pocket as usual and not sitting on the dresser or hanging on a key rack where he’d have to retrieve them. Nothing could slow him down, nothing could stand between him and help for his son.

  Cole had just swung open the driver’s door when a sharp ‘Wait’ made him freeze in his tracks. His neighbor Lauren ran to the van. Without asking if he wanted or needed help she started issuing orders. “Meredith, you and Hank run inside and throw on dry clothes. Grab a clean shirt for your father. The hospital keeps the air at full blast in the summertime, and y’all will catch a cold if you go in wearing your swimsuits.” As they ran for the front door, which Cole had left unlocked since they were going to be right across the street, Lauren yelled after them. “And bring a clean hand towel and a blanket for Justin.”

  Justin lifted his head and glared at Lauren. It looked to Cole as if the bleeding had already slowed. “I knew you wanted to date my dad. You’re not going to kiss him, are you?”

  Lauren looked a little surprised—her eyebrows lifted slightly, and her lips thinned—but she responded calmly. “First of all, a trip to the emergency room isn’t a date, and secondly, I don’t date.” She didn’t mention the kiss.

  “Why not?” Justin asked.

  Yeah, Cole thought. Why not?

  “I’m a very busy woman,” Lauren said. “I have no time for dating.”

  “Oh,” Justin said. He looked more than a little relieved, and surely Lauren noted the fact. “Dad doesn’t date, either.”

  Just a few minutes later, Meredith and Hank ran out of the house. They were both dressed in khaki shorts and plain T-shirts, and Meredith carried a towel, a clean T-shirt for her dad and a well-worn blanket.

  “I locked the door,” Meredith called as she ran for the backseat and her little brother.

  Lauren took charge without missing a beat. She took the towel from Meredith, peeled back the bloody T-shirt and placed the towel against Justin’s wound, pressing down with one hand while with the other she snatched away Cole’s keys without even glancing his way. Sneaky woman.

  “You can’t possibly drive,” she said. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  Cole wanted to argue that he was perfectly capable of driving, but he didn’t. She was right.

  “Besides, they’re doing construction on Governor’s Drive, and I know a shortcut to the E.R.”

  Cole climbed into the backseat with Justin and Hank, and Meredith took the front seat, beside Lauren. He pulled on the clean T-shirt before repositioning Justin so he could hold him as he put pressure on the wound. Cole was grateful to be able to hold on to his son while someone else drove them to the E.R., but at the same time a little warning bell went off in his head.

  He could do this alone. He didn’t need anyone but his children. And to become dependent on his pretty neighbor at this point in his life would be foolish beyond belief.

  Lauren shivered. Knowing how cool the E.R. would be, she should’ve grabbed a sweater. Her toes were cold. Her arms were cold. At the same time, she knew if she’d run inside her house to collect anything, Cole would’ve taken off without her.

  Without a shirt. Was it wrong of her to have taken note of how amazing he looked without a shirt? Sculpted muscles, wide shoulders, slightly hairy chest, not even a hint of a pot belly. This was a crisis, and all of her attention really should’ve been on the injured child. And to be fair, she’d only given a shirtless Cole Donovan a small bit of her attention. Just enough to note that he must still work out, because muscles like that did not come from folding laundry and eating chicken fingers. Just enough to be surprised that he had a tattoo on his shoulder—a small baseball with flames shooting out behind it, as if it were flying past a particularly nice muscle.

  Cole and Justin had been taken back a while ago, leaving Lauren in the waiting room with a sullen Meredith and a scared Hank. Meredith actually leaned away from Lauren, and probably would’ve taken another seat if there had been one available. On a holiday weekend the E.R. was packed, and the only empty chair was next to a dubious-looking character. Lauren was relieved that she ranked above a constantly mumbling man with a scraggly beard and a nasty rash.

  Hank was another story entirely. He leaned into Lauren, resting his head on her arm, taking her hand and holding on. Somehow he managed to hang on without ever being entirely still. He hadn’t said much, but his attitude toward her was decidedly warmer than his sister’s.

  Eventually he lifted his head and looked up at Lauren with the biggest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He had his father’s eyes. In fact, Hank and his younger brother were both little carbon copies of their dad. And he whispered, “Justin’s not going to die, is he?”

  Lauren’s heart broke for the child. “Oh, no, honey. Justin is going to be just fine.” She should’ve said something before now, should’ve soothed the child’s fears hours ago, but she hadn’t even considered that they’d be worried the injury was more serious than it was. Deadly serious. “He’ll have a boo-boo on his head, and he might have a headache for a while, but he’s going to be just fine.”

  Meredith scoffed and muttered, “Boo-boo?”

  Lauren ignored her.

  “My mother is dead,” Hank said. “I don’t remember her, but Dad shows me pictures and tells me stories about her.”

  Lauren felt as if a brick had settled in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, what to do to soothe a child who knew more about death than he should. “I know,” she whispered.

  “Dad told us not to run around the pool,” Hank said, relaxing
visibly. “But one of the other kids started chasing Justin, and he just…”

  “She doesn’t care, Hank,” Meredith said coolly. “Don’t talk her ear off.”

  It would be easiest just to ignore Meredith and settle back into silence. But these kids and their father were going to be her neighbors for a long while. It would be easiest if they could find a way to get along.

  Lauren didn’t let go of Hank’s hand, but she turned toward Meredith and gave the young girl her full attention. Meredith must look like her mother, because she didn’t look much like Cole at all. The nose, maybe a bit through the mouth. But she had blond hair and dark brown eyes, and a heart-shaped face that was almost pixielike. She was almost as tall as Lauren. And right now there was so much anger on that pretty face. “I do care,” Lauren said softly.

  “You’re just trying to impress my dad.” Meredith turned her head so she was no longer looking at Lauren. “He’s famous, and you don’t have a husband or a boyfriend, and if you’re nice to us it’s just because you want to impress him.”

  “To be honest, Meredith, your dad used to be famous, I don’t want or need a husband or a boyfriend, and I’m nice to you because you’re my neighbor. I don’t go out of my way to impress anyone. Good manners and a willingness to help should be extended to everyone.” Okay, so she was channeling her grandmother on that last one. That didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

  “There are baseball cards with his picture on them,” Meredith whispered.

  “I don’t collect baseball cards. I really don’t care for the sport much at all. Truthfully, I find baseball to be slow and boring.”

  “You swear,” Meredith said sullenly.

  “What am I swearing to?”

  “That you’re not being nice just to get your hands on my dad.”

  Lauren sighed. True, Cole Donovan was the best-looking man she’d seen in a long time, even when he forgot to shave. Something about him caused an instinctive physical reaction that she worked very hard to resist. Good heavens, she was no longer seventeen and unable to control her raging hormones! She could probably write off any physical reaction to him to her ticking biological clock, and the fact that, well, it had been a while. But while he might be single, he was not unencumbered. In fact, he was the most encumbered man she’d ever met.

  “I swear. And if you don’t mind a bit of advice from another woman…you’ll be dating before you know it and I have to tell you, you really can’t go out there thinking you can or should become someone you’re not in order to catch a man. You should always, always be yourself, because you don’t want a boy to like you for being someone you’re not.” This was not her forte. “You don’t want to catch a man at all, you want to find the right man. Finding and catching are very different, if you think about it. Be yourself, like yourself, and run as fast as you possibly can from any boy who wants you to change. Does that make any sense?”

  The expression on Meredith’s face softened considerably. “Kinda.”

  “You want a boyfriend who will like you for who you are.”

  “Dad says I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend. Ever.”

  Lauren smiled. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. How old are you?”

  “Twelve. Twelve and a half. I’m really almost thirteen.”

  “You’re a little young now for a boyfriend, but the day will come.”

  Meredith squirmed a bit. She shifted more toward Lauren, just as Hank decided to put his head on Lauren’s lap and close his eyes. Finally, he was still.

  “You said you don’t date,” Meredith said softly. “Why not?”

  Lauren didn’t want to explain to the young girl that she had a bad track record, that she no longer trusted her own instincts where men were concerned, that she was afraid of the pain that could—would—follow a bad romance. “My career is very important to me,” she said. “I really don’t have time for dating. There’s more to life than…dating.”

  For a long moment they sat there in silence. Hank soon fell asleep, and his breathing became deep and even. Meredith relaxed visibly, her entire body unwinding and her expression softening.

  After a while, Meredith said, “Since we’re talking about girl stuff, do you think that, you know, maybe you could teach me how to use makeup? I mean, one day, if you have the time and aren’t doing anything.”

  “You have such a beautiful face, you don’t need…” Lauren stopped when she recognized her grandmother coming through again. “If your father agrees, I don’t see why we can’t have a session or two on the proper application of makeup. The trick is to learn to apply it so lightly no one will be able to tell you’re wearing makeup at all. You should look like you, only better.”

  For the first time, Lauren saw Meredith smile. That was it, that was what she had of her father. Her smile. Something about it caught Lauren’s heart and held on tight. Meredith leaned against Lauren’s arm and closed her eyes. Hank slept on, oblivious to his surroundings. And Lauren was no longer chilled.

  “Maybe you can show me how to make that lasagna, too,” Meredith said softly. “It was really good.”

  “You’re very young to be cooking,” Lauren said. “At your age, all I could make was oatmeal cookies and peas and asparagus casserole.”

  “Well, Dad’s not a very good cook. I try to help out, when I can.”

  Lauren tried to picture Cole in the kitchen. It wasn’t easy. Nothing about him screamed domestic. “That’s very admirable, Meredith.”

  The young girl grasped Lauren’s arm and relaxed. Her eyes drifted closed. That’s how they were positioned when Cole and Justin returned to the waiting room. Cole remained pale but was no longer shaking, and Justin had a large bandage on his head but otherwise appeared to be fine. For a moment, Lauren’s eyes met Cole’s. She felt a connection to her core, and it was so strong it actually jolted her. He stopped in his tracks, stared into her eyes and almost pulled back, as if he’d felt the same thing.

  Attraction. An awareness of one another. A physical response and an instinctive awareness of…possibility.

  And absolutely no chance that whatever they felt would actually work in the real world.

  Lauren relaxed as she turned onto her street and saw the welcoming light of her front porch ahead. It had been a very long, very strange day. She wanted a cup of hot tea, a warm shower, soft pajamas and a good night’s sleep.

  She pulled the van into the Donovan driveway. All was quiet, since the kids had all dozed off on the way home, and Cole hadn’t said a word since they’d pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

  “Thanks,” he said softly as she shut off the engine. “I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”

  “No problem.” She wanted to run for home—tea, shower, pajamas, bed—but as she stepped out of the van and the kids roused, Hank called out.

  “Miss Lauren, will you tuck me in?” His voice was sleepy; he’d probably drift back into dreamland the moment his head hit the pillow.

  “Miss Lauren’s done enough,” Cole said, his voice perhaps a touch sharp. Maybe that was just exhaustion she heard.

  “Please,” Hank said, drawing the word out to the end of a breath. There was so much heart in his voice, Lauren couldn’t say no. She told herself it would be a short delay.

  “I’d be happy to tuck you in,” she said, helping the little boy from the backseat as Cole carried Justin to the front door and unlocked it. Meredith yawned as she made her way to the door. As Lauren and Hank walked in that direction, Hank took her hand. His hand was incredibly small, so soft and trusting.

  Meredith yawned again and said good-night, and Justin roused just long enough to ask if he could sleep with his dad tonight. Cole agreed, and carried his youngest son toward the master bedroom.

  Hank turned on the light to his bedroom, which was messy but clean. Action figures lined the shelves and the dresser, and an open toy chest held an array of water guns, a couple of plastic dragons and balls in every size and color. A watercolor of some s
ort of mythical beast had been framed and hung above the bed. Most of the dirty clothes had made it into the hamper, and the bed was made. It was not made well, but there had been a valiant attempt.

  “I think you’re awesome,” Hank said sleepily as he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of mismatched pajamas. “You should have some kids of your own, and then I’d have someone else to play with.”

  “You have a brother and a sister to play with.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t always want to play what I want to play. Meredith likes girl stuff.”

  “Well,” Lauren said, “she is a girl.”

  Hank started stripping off his clothes and throwing them toward the hamper. Lauren turned her back, offering him the privacy he obviously didn’t care about.

  “Don’t you like kids?” Hank asked.