Tell Me a Story

by Dallas Schulze

  Now, in the space of a few hours, her life had been turned upside down. Whether she wished it or not, she was caught up in Becky's life. Through her, Ann was caught up in Flynn McCallister's life. It wasn't that either Flynn or Becky asked her to spend her free time with them. There just didn't seem to be anything else to do.

  The morning after the visit to Flynn's parents, she woke up and told herself that she was not going to go across the hall. This was her day off and she had things to do. Things that didn't include a little girl and a dangerously attractive man.

  "Not that I'm attracted to him, of course." Oscar stirred and raised his head to blink at her. Ann stared at him in the mirror, aware that she was taking a great deal of time with her makeup, considering that she was planning on relaxing at home. "One kiss is nothing these days. It was a pleasant kiss but no big deal. Flynn McCallister is a playboy. Maybe he's got a heart of gold when it comes to children but he's still a playboy. The man doesn't have a job!"

  Oscar yawned. "I may just go over to make sure that Becky is doing all right but then I'm going to come right back here and catch up on my reading. Besides, Flynn probably hasn't been up this early since he was in high school. It might be amusing to see how he's coping with a child in the house."

  Oscar yawned again and put his head back down. He knew an excuse when he heard one.

  ❧

  As a matter of fact, Flynn was coping quite well. Self-preservation had led him to get up early and make his own coffee before Becky could bring him some of her deadly brew. When the doorbell rang, he was showered, shaved and fixing breakfast for himself and Becky. Becky was drawing pictures at the table. "Answer the door, would you, honey?"

  "Sure, Mr. Flynn. Should I tell them that we don't want to buy anything?"

  "I doubt if it's a salesman. Not if Joe's doing his job."

  "Who's Joe?"

  "Joe is the man downstairs who's paid to tell salesmen to go away.''

  "Gee, that sounds like an easy job."

  She hopped off her chair and trotted out of the kitchen while Flynn was turning the bacon. He knew it was Ann even before he heard her voice. After all, who else could it be? Everyone else had to ring through from downstairs.

  Though his back was to the door, he knew the moment she stepped into the room. It was amazing to think that they'd lived across the hall from each other for two years. Two years and he'd only kissed her yesterday. He'd had his fantasies about his uptight, disapproving neighbor, but none of them had come close to the reality of the way she'd felt in his arms.

  He set down the fork and turned to look at her, letting his eyes skim over the emerald-striped top and white pants to settle on the deep red of her hair. He could still remember the feel of it against his hands, and he wanted to cross the room and pull the pins out and let it spill through his fingers.

  "Good morning."

  Ann felt herself flushing under the look in his eyes, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. He didn't leer, he didn't ogle, but he made her feel intensely aware of her femininity in a way that was really rather pleasant.

  "Good morning. I didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast."

  "That's okay. Have a seat and I'll stir up a couple more eggs and you can join us."

  Ann protested politely. She never ate breakfast. She detested greasy bacon and equally greasy eggs. The fat and cholesterol content of the average American breakfast was enough to give a person instantly hard arteries. If she ate anything at all, it was a cup of yogurt with a few fresh berries.

  "I'm really not hungry."

  "There's always room for bacon."

  Ten minutes later, she found herself sitting down to a breakfast of bacon, eggs, potatoes and toast and enjoying every bite. Becky ate with the healthy appetite of a growing child, and Ann found her enjoyment of the meal tangled with her enjoyment of the company.

  Flynn pushed his plate away and poured himself a second cup of coffee. Ann thought about pointing out the hazards of caffeine and then decided that it was none of her concern. Besides, he didn't look as if caffeine had done any damage to his nerves so far. If anyone had ever been the personification of a laid-back Californian, it was Flynn McCallister.

  "Becky and I are going shopping today. Her wardrobe needs updating. Want to join us?" His tone was casual, as if it didn't matter to him one way or another.

  Of course she wasn't going to go. She had other things to do with her time. But Becky did need clothing, and could a man—a bachelor—really be trusted to buy suitable clothes for a little girl? Still, it wasn't her problem. The mental argument took only a few seconds and was still waging when she heard herself say, "Sure, I would love to go shopping with you."

  Shopping with a man and a little girl was a different experience for Ann. She was a very organized shopper. When she went to a store, she had a specific need in mind and she purchased exactly that need or she bought nothing at all. The only exception to this rule was shoes. She couldn't resist shoes and she had several pairs that she'd probably never find an occasion to wear.

  Flynn, on the other hand, didn't try to resist anything. Rather than going to an exclusive children's store and asking a buyer to help them choose a wardrobe for Becky, they drove to a nearby mall. On a Monday afternoon, the stores were reasonably free of crowds, but Ann wasn't sure that this was an advantage. Maybe crowds would have curbed some of Flynn's enthusiasm. As it was,'there was nothing to deter him as they swept through the stores, much like Sherman marching through Georgia. Instead of leaving fire and destruction in their wake, they left charge slips and checks. In return, they received promises of immediate delivery.

  By the time Ann managed to convince him that Becky had a wardrobe any little girl would kill for, Flynn had thought of toys. Ann shuddered as they invaded the toy store. Within minutes, she'd lost her companions in the high-walled aisles, and she retreated to a bench in the mall to rest her feet and hope that Flynn would remember that Becky would probably prefer a doll to a race car. She needn't have worried. He bought both.

  It took Becky and Flynn an hour to come out, loaded down with packages. Clothes could be trusted to be delivered, but toys were another matter altogether. It was hard to tell who was more excited. The last of Becky's reticence had vanished beneath the excitement of being able to buy just what she wanted, and she chattered happily about the Barbie doll Mr. Flynn had bought her, complete with a wardrobe.

  "Shoes and everything, Ann." They were on their way to the car to leave off the packages, and Becky's childish voice echoed in the cavernous parking structure. In her excitement at describing every detail of every small garment, Becky slid her hand into Ann's, skipping happily. Ann was unprepared for the rush of feeling the simple gesture brought.

  Becky's hand felt so small, so vulnerable. Looking down, Ann was struck by the absolute trust Becky had given to her and to Flynn. She had literally put her life in their hands. Her work at the hospital occasionally took her to the children's ward, and she'd always been awed by the confidence a sick child had in the doctors and nurses who treated them. They didn't question, didn't doubt, they simply accepted that the adults were there to help them.

  Becky was doing much the same. She wasn't ill but she was vulnerable, and she was trusting that Ann and Flynn would take care of her, find her mother and put her life back together again. Ann's fingers tightened slightly over the little girl's. She was as committed to Becky's needs as Flynn was, whether she liked it or not.

  "...red with black stripes and Mr. Flynn says it will go just like a real one." Ann shook off her preoccupation in time to hear Becky's last words. They had stopped next to Flynn's Mercedes and Flynn had opened the trunk.

  "Flynn bought you a toy car?"

  "It's not a toy, it's a working rep... reptile,"

  "He bought you a snake?"

  "Becky means a replica." Flynn took the packages that Becky had handed to Ann, his eyes not meeting hers. "Let's go get something to eat. Are you hungry, Becky?" If he'd hope
d to distract her with the offer of food, he was disappointed.

  "Sure. I'm starved. The car isn't for me, Ann. Mr. Flynn bought it for hisself."

  "Himself." Ann made the correction automatically, her eyes on Flynn's back as he shut the Mercedes's trunk a little more forcefully than was necessary. "So you bought a toy car."

  Flynn turned to look at her, his brows raised, as if amazed that she would question such a thing. It was difficult to be sure in the dim light of the parking garage, but Ann was almost positive that his face was flushed. Flynn McCallister? Blushing? What an incredible idea.

  "It's a remote controlled replica of a Jaguar XKE."

  "That's different than a toy?" Ann took Becky's hand as they turned to go back into the mall. Flynn took Becky's other hand as she skipped between them, oblivious to the byplay going on between the two adults.

  "It's a sophisticated piece of engineering."

  "But not a toy?"

  "It's a very educational piece of equipment. It teaches good eye-hand coordination." Ann didn't say anything. The look she gave him over Becky's head said it all. Flynn threw her an exasperated glance.

  "They didn't make them when I was a kid." He sounded so defensive that Ann had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

  "Well, I hope it helps your eye-hand coordination."

  The look he gave her was all male. "I think my eye-hand coordination is pretty good. I haven't had any complaints so far. I could demonstrate."

  Ann felt the color surge into her cheeks at the blatant invitation. She could only hope that the dim light was as kind to her as it had been to him. "I don't think that will be necessary."

  "I was afraid you'd say that."

  The regret in his eyes was only half joking, and Ann felt a twinge of purely feminine pleasure before she looked away. Flynn's eyes lingered on her a moment longer before dropping to Becky.

  "Well, Rebecca Antoinette, what would you like for lunch?"

  "Corn dogs and French fries with catsup."

  Flynn shuddered, his eyes closing for a moment. "Sounds terrific."

  Ann laughed and wondered if it was foolish to be so happy over nothing.

  ❧

  "Look at it go, Mr. Flynn. I bet it could go clear to the moon."

  "It just might if you don't hold onto the string really tight."

  Flynn reached out to steady Becky's small hands on the spool of string and then leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the bright scarlet kite that floated high above them. Since it was a weekday, the park was uncrowded. The weather was perfect. Becky had informed him that there was no temperature at all, and he knew just what she meant. The air felt neither warm nor cool. The sky above was a warm blue, a shade that Los Angeles didn't see very often. The residents had learned to savor it as long as it lasted.

  "How high do you think it is, Mr. Flynn? One hundred miles?"

  Flynn squinted at the kite. "Not an inch over ninety-nine miles." The kite kicked in the wind, swooping back and forth, weaving dancing patterns against the blue sky.

  Flynn closed his eyes for a moment, savoring a feeling of peace like he hadn't known in years. Not since Mark's death had he felt so relaxed. He shifted one hand, touching Becky's slim back affectionately. It felt so right to be here with her. He'd never thought of himself as a family man, but Becky was making him reconsider. And Ann. Ann was making him reconsider a lot of things.

  It was hard to believe that they'd spent the last two years across the hall from each other and barely exchanged a civil word. Like Becky, she'd become an integral part of his life. It was hard to imagine a time when she hadn't been there.

  Dangerous thinking, McCallister. Next thing you know, you'll be thinking about rings and babies.

  And why not?

  The thought was so surprising that his eyes flew open and he sat up, oblivious to Becky's startled look. He'd begun to think of himself as a confirmed bachelor. He hadn't thought about marriage and children in years. Now, suddenly, the idea seemed not quite so alien. Appealing almost.

  "Something wrong, Mr. Flynn?"

  He shook himself and gave Becky a smile. Time enough to consider the implications of his thoughts later. "Not a thing. Come on, let's see if we can get your kite to go even higher."

  Becky scrambled to her feet as he stood up, her fingers clenched around the spool. "I don't think it can go higher. It's awful high now."

  "If we've got more string, we can get it higher."

  She looked from him to the kite scudding across the sky above them. Her expression was cautious, doubtful. "What if it goes so high we lose it?"

  "We'll buy another one." He grinned down at her. "Where's your spirit of adventure?" She eyed him cautiously before handing him the spool of string. Flynn took it from her with one hand and reached out to ruffle her hair with the other. "Don't look so worried, urchin."

  It was clear that Becky had never learned how to be a proper child. She worried too much. Who better to teach her the fine points of childhood than someone who'd never grown up? He grinned and began to unreel the string, watching the kite dip and sway as it climbed higher.

  "Let's see if we can set a world record in kite flying."

  "Okay." Becky's eyes were wide as she stared up at the kite, picking up his enthusiasm. "I bet Ann will be impressed when she gets home and we tell her how high we got our kite."

  When Ann gets home. Flynn repeated the phrase in his mind. It made the three of them sound like a family. It was rather frightening to realize how right that sounded.

  ❧

  Ann leaned against the padded wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. It seemed as if her work schedule was getting more and more hectic. From the moment she arrived at the hospital, one thing after another claimed her attention. She used to tell herself that it was exhilarating, but today it had been near to drudgery. She'd always thought she knew what she wanted out of life. She'd become a doctor, work her way up the staff hierarchy in a good hospital and sometime before she grew too old to hear him, her father would tell her that he was proud of her.

  Somehow, since letting Becky and Flynn into her life, her goals seemed skewed. Medicine suddenly didn't seem as interesting or exciting. Becoming chief of staff someday held no interest at all. She shook her head. It was a temporary state. She'd wanted this for too long, wanted to prove herself to her father. Once Becky's mother was found, her life would get back to normal and her future would fall into place again.

  Ann tried not to think of how impossible the day had seemed. Her heart hadn't been in the job, and that was a dangerous thing for a doctor. She'd gone through all the motions and done all the right things but, in the back of her mind, she'd wondered what Becky and Flynn were doing. She'd wished she were doing it with them.

  She was getting too involved.

  But it's only for Becky's sake. As soon as her mother is found, I'll be out of the picture.

  But what about Flynn? Are you going to back away from him?

  Of course. I'm only seeing him because that's where Becky is. It's nothing to do with him personally.

  And if she just kept telling herself that, she might believe it. The mental argument came to a halt with the elevator. She opened her eyes as the door slid open.

  Never had the peace and quiet of her own apartment held more appeal. She wouldn't even go over to see Becky tonight. She'd give Flynn a call and make sure that the little girl was all right, ask if there was any progress toward finding her mother and then she'd hang up. That was all anyone could possibly expect of her.

  Ann stepped out of the elevator, the decision firm in her mind. And then nearly jumped out of her skin as a small red object hurtled toward her across the smooth carpet. She had only a moment of panic before she recognized it. This must be the infamous sophisticated piece of engineering. The toy car that Flynn had bought the day before.

  It came to a halt inches from her feet as if to invite her to admire its shiny red paint. Ann had to admit that it looked rema
rkably like the real thing. It scooted a little forward and then back, reminding her of a small child shifting from one foot to another, impatient with adult slowness. Then she saw the piece of paper threaded onto the antenna. She bent and slid the paper loose, her fingers hesitant. It would be just her luck to break Flynn's new toy. Nothing broke, however, and she looked at the note, finding her name inscribed in a bold script that had to be Flynn's.

  Ann,

  Becky and I would love to have your company at dinner. No corn dogs. I promise. Becky wants to show off her new dolls. I just want to show off.

  Flynn

  The signature was a huge scrawl, as fascinating and unconventional as the man himself. Ann stared at the note and then looked down at the little car. She wasn't going to go, of course. She glanced at Flynn's door, which was open a crack. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was crouched behind the crack, controlling the car. The image was so silly, so appealing that Ann found herself smiling for the first time all day.

  She scrambled in her purse for a pen. Balancing the paper on her purse, she scribbled a reply.

  Am disappointed at the thought of no corn dogs but will try to bear up. Expect me in half an hour. Looking forward to seeing your and Becky's new toys.

  Ann

  She threaded the note back onto the antenna and watched as the car made a quick reversing turn and spun for Flynn's door. The door opened just wide enough for the little car to shoot through and then shut, leaving Ann alone.

  "So much for being strong-minded and spending a quiet evening at home." But there was no real regret in the muttered words.

  Flynn kept his promise. There was not a corn dog in sight when the three of them sat down to dinner. Fried chicken with all the trimmings covered the table to the groaning point. Ann took one look and gave up trying to count the cholesterol content. It was a mea1 chosen to appeal to a child and yet offer something substantial for an adult.