by Jessica Kate
Memories crashed through him—comments she’d made sitting outside the doctor’s office, an offhand remark from her mother. Chloe had been two years younger than him—twenty-four, newly graduated and ambitious—when she fell pregnant. He’d known she was under pressure from outside forces not to be a mother. But he hadn’t realized to what extent. A fresh wave of gratitude flooded him that she’d given him his son.
He grasped her hand. “The question isn’t what Richard wants. It’s what’s best for Olly, and for you. You . . . can be a part of his life.”
The words didn’t want to come out. Sharing custody would mean less time with his son. Probably another move.
But like he said, it wasn’t about him.
Her eyes filled again, and she dashed a hand across her face. “I’ll—I’ll remember.” She drew a deep breath and calmed herself. “Where’s Natalie?”
He blinked at the change of topic. “On the phone with her mother. She’s been here all night.”
“She’s a good woman.”
“She is.” His gaze went to the door Natalie had disappeared through, and he silently thanked God that he’d asked Lili to call her last night.
“She’s a good mother.”
Jem looked back to Chloe. Where was she going with this? “She’s . . . not my girlfriend.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say “seeing someone else.”
“I hope I haven’t messed that up for you.”
“I’ve messed up plenty on my own.” His tone was rueful.
“You’re a good father.”
Yeah, a father who didn’t notice his son had a chronic disease. He ran a hand over his face. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I mean it.” She stopped and looked at Oliver. “And I’m sorry about this week. I know I was demanding. And awful to Natalie.” A wry smile poked through. “I’ll admit, some of it was on purpose. I wanted to see how she did under pressure. How you both did.”
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and his gaze darted to the door. A Natalie-shaped shadow shifted, then stilled. He scratched his lip to cover a smile. “I wondered.”
“I think Natalie nearly skinned me once or twice, but that’s good. She’ll fight for what she wants. And tell her she’s got a knack for graphic design. I was just being catty. This festival she’s organizing sounds terrific.” A chuckle burst out. “And tell her I’m impressed that Olly can pass wind on demand.”
Jem’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. What had gone on during that day she’d spent with Nat?
“Thank you,” he managed.
Chloe ran a hand through her hair, straightening the mess. Her tone changed to businesslike. “If you don’t want to, you never have to hear from me again. Richard doesn’t want me getting involved. But . . . if it’s okay, I wouldn’t mind an email with a photo every now and then.”
Both relief and grief swelled inside. Yes, things were less complicated if she stayed away. But Olly would miss out on knowing someone who—ideal circumstances or not—was important to him.
But it was her decision.
“That’s okay.” He touched her arm. “I’ll be honest with him and tell him who you are. If he wants to meet you—again, that is—it’ll be up to him.”
She nodded, scrubbed her sleeve over her face. “I have a plane to catch. I’ll send you the official paperwork from Chicago.” She paused. “If it wasn’t for Natalie, I’d stay, but I think the two of you have him well covered.”
“I’ll let you know how he does.”
She looked toward the door, then back to the crib, her face pinched. “I didn’t want to get attached . . . but could you give him a kiss goodbye for me?” She rushed from the room before Jem could respond.
He stared at the empty doorway. Shook his head. That was the second time in two years Chloe had left him and Oliver in a hospital, alone.
Natalie’s head poked around the doorframe. He smiled.
Not alone.
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough. I hid around the corner when she left.” As she drew closer, the tear tracks on her face reflected rising sunlight.
He fought the urge to reach for her. “Hey, it’s okay. I know this is major, but he’ll be okay.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that.” She lifted her watery gaze to his. “Mom said Dad’s had a bad turn.”
* * *
Natalie picked lint from Jem’s hoodie as she paced the hospital hallway, waiting for Dad to be transferred to his room. She checked her watch. Nine fifteen a.m. Two hours and forty-five minutes until the festival was due to start.
She sniffed. Her nose had turned into a tap. Where was a tissue when you needed one?
Sam’s phone went to voice mail again.
“Natalie.”
She whipped around to the sound of Steph’s voice from behind.
Steph’s heels clacked on the floor as she approached, arms outstretched. “I got your message. How’s your dad?”
Natalie accepted her hug and used the moment to clear her throat. Never mind last night’s fiasco, her stress over Olly, gritty eyes from no sleep, and now a terror that gripped her every time a doctor walked past with a grim face.
Now was not the time to be emotional.
“I’m waiting to hear. But I needed to talk to you about the festival. I’m not going to be able to leave.”
The words were hard to say. Surely this would only increase Kimberly’s lead in their race for that permanent position. But there was no question about where she’d spend today.
With Dad.
Steph nodded, face grim. “I thought you’d say that. I teed up Kimberly, just in case. She can run things with Sam.”
Natalie rubbed her irritated eyes and nodded. It couldn’t be helped.
“But I thought you should know—” Steph hesitated, then placed a gentle palm on Natalie’s arm. “I’ve been chatting with some of the board members. They’re beginning to lean in Kimberly’s direction.”
Natalie swayed against the wall behind her. How much bad news could a body absorb in twenty-four hours?
Steph shrugged. “Sam’s in your corner, obviously. But he only has so much influence. I just thought you should know.”
Natalie closed her eyes and counted to ten. The world was too loud, her feet in these flip-flops were too cold, and she was one stubbed toe away from lying down in the middle of this floor and having a good cry.
Deep breaths.
As she tried to regain her zen, a thought hit her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a conference?”
Something flickered across Steph’s expression. Come to think of it, she didn’t look too hot either. Her face showed more lines than usual, and she radiated tension. She wrapped her cashmere jacket more tightly around her. “I came home early. Just got in, actually. Lili’s in the car.”
“Okay. Good.” At least they knew Lili was fine for now.
“Nattie.” Mom rounded the corner of the corridor, today’s sweat suit a lime green that clashed with her red Sketchers.
Natalie straightened. Steph squeezed her shoulder. “Just let me know when you can come back. You can still give Kimberly a run for her money.”
Maybe. But her underdog status was now obvious to all.
She nodded her thanks and walked toward Mom, who looked calm. But Mom had been a nurse. She always looked calm, no matter how bad the news was.
Natalie dug her nails into her palm as she approached. “How’s Dad?”
“Asking for you.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. He was responsive, then.
“And?”
“And he’s more worried about you missing your festival than he is about the fact I couldn’t rouse him this morning.”
Natalie smiled, despite herself. “That sounds like Dad.”
“Were you able to organize something?”
“Kimberly’s going to take my place.” Hopefully not in more ways than one.
Mom nodded. “
I’ll tell him. He doesn’t want to hurt your chances for this job. He’s so excited about it.”
Natalie’s smile turned fragile. “Tell him it’ll be fine. I’ve got it under control.”
Had she claimed to leap tall buildings in a single bound, it could not have been more untrue. But one thing was certain: as soon as Dad recovered, she’d work harder than Kimberly ever could to make sure she got this job.
27
Jem needed a plan, and the only one he could think of depended on the sleep-deprived woman sitting at his kitchen counter. And his ability to convince her.
Meanwhile, the pink-and-purple-clad Mommy and Me workout instructor on Jem’s laptop screen made this exercise look way too easy. She held her bow-adorned baby in front of her and executed ten squats in a pristine living room. “A-one, a-two . . .”
Jem kicked a stuffed toy out of the way on the living room floor, held a fussing Oliver out in front of him, and tried to follow suit as Natalie heckled from her stool at the counter.
“You’re doomed. He’s teething.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see her flip open a tiny mirror from her handbag and apply lipstick.
“Focus on the main topic here,” he puffed out between squats.
He’d had an epiphany at some point during the long hours in the hospital this week, reflecting on that mess of a dinner with Dad. He’d never been able to please his father. But that didn’t mean Dad couldn’t be a part of Olly’s life.
Enter Natalie.
She’d been a lifesaver this week, coming with him to the hospital’s training sessions in between visiting with her dad. Her father had given them a scare last week when he lapsed into unconsciousness, but now he was back at home.
Jem wobbled on squat number eight. “Just one playdate. Take them both to the park or something. Let them spend some time together.”
She fluffed her hair, the scent of fresh perfume drifting over to Jem in the living room. “Do you pay me extra if I nanny both your son and your father?”
“I pay on a per-diaper basis.”
Squats done, he held Olly closer and bounced him. This kid did not enjoy being used as a dumbbell.
Natalie scowled at a spot on her shirt. He tilted his head as he watched her. “What are you getting ready for? I thought the reason I had to be home early this afternoon was Lili’s after-school tutoring and your appointment.” What kind of appointment required this much fussing?
A knock sounded at the door.
Natalie flushed a little. “Actually, the appointment is . . . well, a date with Sam. He’s flying out to Georgia tonight to speak at some schools, so we’re just catching a quick bite before he heads to the plane.”
Oh.
Great. Because it wasn’t like he thought of her kisses every five seconds. Why wouldn’t he love to see her new boyfriend pick her up for a date?
She moved toward the door. “I was going to go down. I didn’t think he was coming up.”
She opened the door, and the young preacher was there, all smiles and exotic accent. He nodded in Jem’s direction. “How are ya, mate?”
Jem regretted every friendly chat they’d had about boxing. “Just peachy, thanks.” He held Olly out again and raised him above his head, if only for something else to look at.
Natalie and Sam departed, and Jem huffed to himself. Watching Natalie date Sam was about as delightful as second-degree sunburn on a long-haul flight. Who had he been kidding with this Natalie solution for Dad? She’d be gone as soon as she landed that job at Wildfire—which seemed likely, now that she was dating the founder.
He kicked at Oliver’s plush Daffy Duck. It wasn’t a fair thought. She’d get the job on merit. She was a fantastic organizer. But he had to be mad at something, and being angry with himself was getting boring.
No, it was time to face facts. He’d never fix things with either Natalie or Dad.
He looked at his grizzling son. “Come on, Olly. Enough with this Mommy and Me rubbish. Let’s run like men.” He pulled on his worn sneakers, left a note for Lili, who’d returned to his apartment when Oliver came home from the hospital, and wrestled Oliver’s stroller downstairs. At least the bouncing kept the baby entertained.
At the ground floor, his phone buzzed. An email from work.
Congratulations! You have been awarded the Team Player of the Year award.
He blinked and read it again. The newspaper’s annual award ceremony—and he was getting an award?
He took off down the street at an easy jog and rolled the news around his mind like a Gobstopper candy.
He’d done it. After that confidence-rattling layoff and a rough start, he’d proven his worth as a reporter. The career had been his dream since he first visited the newspaper office as an eight-year-old with Gramps. His mother’s father had been a journalist back in the days when newspapers were printed using linotype machines, and young Jem had been captivated by his stories—by the man, really.
Jem passed the one-mile mark and slowed to a walk. Parenthood had left him horribly out of shape. And the thought was one that required energy to ponder.
Gramps had been the best. There hadn’t been anything particularly amazing about his grandfather to an outsider, but Jem well remembered his childish wonder at how someone could be so old and know so much. Getting to “help” Gramps in the garden, fixing Gran’s chair, or walking the dog had been the pinnacle of his young existence.
Olly needed that.
Jem picked up his pace again.
Two miles later, as Jem wrestled the stroller back up the stairs, he’d come to a decision. For now, he was giving up on running. But he’d give Dad one more shot.
He cleaned himself and Oliver off in the shower and was still in his room fastening the last snap on Olly’s jumpsuit when a key scratched at the door. Must be Lili.
But when the door opened, he didn’t hear the usual ten steps across the dining nook and kitchen and then the bang of Lili’s door.
He peered out into the living area, Olly now content in his arms. “Natalie?”
“Forgot my laptop.” She called the words out, then pressed her phone back to her ear. “Yeah, Mom, I’m here. What did you say?”
Jem scanned her for hints as to how the date had gone. Sam must be on his plane by now. She didn’t look either upset or ecstatically happy. Jem pressed his lips together. These were the times in life when a Sherlock Holmes would come in super handy.
Natalie froze, phone still glued to her ear.
Jem crossed the room. What was wrong?
A hand flew to her mouth as she listened to whatever her mother was saying. “O-okay. I’ll be right over.” She lowered the phone, tears in her eyes.
“Nat?” Jem dropped Olly in his high chair. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dad.” Tears spiked her eyelashes. “The test results came in. The cancer’s back, and he doesn’t have long.”
28
“I’ve got you now.”
Lili slammed Miss Kent’s laptop lid down at the sound of a voice near the art room door.
It had been a week since they rushed Oliver to the hospital, since she learned the truth about Dad and Miss Kent. In that week, she’d successfully cold-shouldered her father and snooped around for evidence he was still seeing her trampy teacher. But had she been busted?
Nick sauntered through the doorway, wearing a Captain America T-shirt and thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack.
She released a breath, then eyed him. “Firstly, who wears both straps of their backpack? I can’t teach you art and how to be cool.”
“Cool wishes it could be Nick.” He approached where she sat behind Miss Kent’s desk. “Speaking of art, are you going to pay up? I gave you a math lesson last week.” He looked around the room. “And why are you sitting here in the dark?”
“I’m doing one last favor for Miss Kent.” She grabbed her backpack and Nick’s arm and hustled him out of the room. Alone, she could go undetected, but Nick’s
noise would blow her cover. She’d tested Miss Kent’s door every day for a week, and today was the only time it had been left open. She’d had to be quick and quiet. And now, all for nothing. She hadn’t found anything incriminating.
“I’m dropping art next semester.” Though truth be told, she’d been skipping it already.
“What?” Nick stopped and grabbed the sleeve of her navy-blue shirt. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m just not feeling it anymore.” A now familiar ache came over her throat. After the past week, between Dad and Oliver, she’d thought she was cried out. Obviously not. She pulled her arm from Nick’s grasp. “It’s no big deal.” She picked up the pace and tried to keep her tone normal. “People’s likes and dislikes can change.”
“Yeah, but this is brain-transplant territory. What’s going on?”
My family is ruined, and it’s your precious aunt’s fault. She took a deep breath. “I can still help you with your art projects if you want. I just don’t want to do it myself anymore. You can drive me home, and we’ll work on your assignment there.” She exited through the outer doors of the school and looked around. “Did you bring the truck today?”
“Uh, not exactly. Mom . . . misplaced the keys. I hot-wired it a couple times, but people looked at me funny.” A single bicycle remained on the rack outside. Pink and glittery, with streamers. “Riley loaned me her bike.”
Lili mustered up an enthusiasm she didn’t feel and jogged over to the sparkling monstrosity. Any change in topic was welcome, even if it came in the form of a Barbie bicycle. “Let’s ride double. It’ll be fun.” Her voice came out flat, even to her.
Nick came closer and cocked his head. “What’s going on?”
Distract and evade. “I’ll bet you a free movie choice that I can ride this thing faster than you.”
“No way am I risking another movie bet with you. If I ever have to see another Selena Gomez chick flick, I’ll remove my eyes with a pencil.” He unlocked the bike and removed the handlebars from her hands. “Is it stuff at home?”
