More Than Words Volume 4

by Linda Lael Miller

  His smile was the most engaging thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to say yes so much it was a physical ache.

  She’d love to help him impress his judgmental ex-wife, the insufferable Angela. She’d love to help him thrill his little girl.

  But she couldn’t. She’d caught a glimpse of the large kitchen behind him, and the shadows of other unknown rooms behind that. The vastness of his house, so strange to her, was too much.

  What if she had an attack while she was inside? What if she couldn’t breathe? Her lungs were already tightening, threatening to turn to stone.

  She’d disgrace herself, crying, or running away, or God only knew what, and then, the next time, he’d look at her differently.

  “I can’t today,” she lied. “I’ve got a ton of work to do before five. We just came to bring you this.”

  She extended the casserole, which was covered in shiny aluminum foil that caught the bright winter sun in flashes. “It’s chicken and broccoli. I thought you might be sick of pizza.”

  His eyes widened. “How did you…” He shook his head. “Oh, of course, you can see from the window. Yep, I love pizza. Big, thick, disgustingly unhealthy ones. Pepperoni and hamburger and onion and anchovy. Even up in your apartment, you could probably hear my arteries slamming shut.”

  “I must have missed that,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. “But I wasn’t spying on you. It’s just that my computer faces the window, and—”

  “It’s okay,” he said, taking the heavy dish out of her hand. “You’re my guardian angel. Seems only fitting that you should be watching from on high.”

  He was so darn nice. She felt like a heel. She shifted Daniel’s carrier to her other hand and glanced over her shoulder toward the garage. “Well, I guess I should get to work.”

  “You sure?” He looked surprised. “We ought to get to know each other, don’t you think? And I could really use the help.”

  He was still balancing the casserole in his one good hand. She suddenly wondered how he was going to maneuver it into the kitchen, with crutches and plaster casts.

  She was well aware of how selfish her agoraphobia made her seem. She couldn’t just say yes? She couldn’t spare five minutes to help the guy put the heavy dish into the fridge? Or a couple of hours, even, to help him salvage the birthday party?

  No. That was the sad truth about her life. She had completely forgotten how to say yes.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, the gruff tone again infecting her words, making them prickle. She saw his face change slightly, saw the friendliness drain away.

  “But—”

  “No. I can’t.”

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  “Oh, Beth,” Audra Gilmore squealed. “He’s getting so big! And so handsome!”

  Beth laughed as she hugged Audra, the high-spirited mother of three who had been one of her favorite roommates at Loving Life. “It’s only been two weeks since you saw him, silly. He can’t have changed that much.”

  “Yes, he has! Come on, now. Let me hold him!” Audra extended her arms, and Beth handed Daniel to her without hesitation. No baby could be safer anywhere than in Audra Gilmore’s arms.

  Instead of moving out when she was ready to “graduate” from Loving Life’s program, Audra had taken over the recently installed day care center. She loved everything about babies and children. She believed they were magic—innocence, comfort, laughter and hope bundled together.

  “Well, he looks like a mighty happy little boy,” Audra said as Daniel cooed up at her. She grinned at Beth. “I told you all those worries were for nothing. Don’t know how to be a mother, indeed.”

  Beth laughed. She had said that one particularly difficult night. She had believed it, at the time. After all, her mothering role model had been pretty crummy.

  As Audra scurried around showing Daniel off to the other caretakers, Beth sank into one of the rocking chairs, gratefully absorbing the day care’s happy vibes.

  About eight or ten children played on the floor, surrounded by brightly colored blocks and balls and picture books. The under-threes were in another room, with cribs and playpens, but out here it was a delightfully controlled chaos. Every toy seemed to beep or squeak or giggle or sing. One little boy sat at a yellow plastic table, pulling a string that made his toy announce, over and over, “The cow says mooooooo!”

  One of the workers hurried over and, with a quick wink at Beth, deftly switched the dial on the toy, then headed back to pick up a spilled bowl of dry cereal. The electronic voice now said, “The horse says neigh,” which brought a thumbs-up from every adult in the room.

  Beth watched the teamwork with a small twinge of envy. This was her first visit to Loving Life since she’d moved out two weeks ago, and she’d missed the communal bustle of shared purpose.

  She hoped she hadn’t visited too soon. The shelter had been her “safe place” for ten whole months, and Tilly had urged her to resist the urge to come running back right away.

  “It takes time to make a home,” Tilly had cautioned as she left Beth at the apartment that first day, obviously recognizing the doubt in her eyes. “Settle in. Put your mark on it. Then, when you can come out of love, not fear, come back and tell us all about it.”

  Beth had thought she was ready, but the contrast between this noisy, vibrant environment, where no one faced a problem alone, and her silent apartment, where she had no counsel but her own, was dramatic.

  Last night, Daniel had cried for an hour, for no apparent reason. She’d paced the four moonlit rooms over and over, singing lullabies, patting his back, offering warm formula…but nothing would soothe him. She’d driven herself half mad with anxiety. Was it something serious? Should she call the doctor?

  She’d even, in one weak moment, considered calling Scott Mulvaney, but she’d come to her senses. After she’d turned down his request for help the other day, it would be unthinkably selfish to beg him to come to her rescue.

  Besides, he probably thought she was an unmitigated shrew, and didn’t want anything further to do with her. He hadn’t tried to call again, or sent any flowers. She considered herself lucky that he hadn’t sent an eviction notice.

  Still, it had been hard to tough it out alone. Here at Loving Life, the large apartment units held four roommates. Each mother and child shared a bedroom and bath of their own, but the living room and kitchen were communal.

  In such an arrangement, any baby who cried in the night was likely to have a couple of “aunts” stopping by to offer advice or companionship.

  But then she remembered the deep glow of pride she’d felt as she laid Daniel back in his crib, finally asleep. She’d weathered the mini-storm. All by herself.

  True confidence wasn’t something other people could give her. It was something she’d have to build for herself, one small victory, one lonely night at a time.

  “Beth!” Tilly Argent’s warm voice came from the doorway. “I’m so glad you’re here, honey!”

  Beth rose and hurried over to give Tilly a hug. The silver-haired, steely-eyed woman was wise, hardheaded and practical, but she was also warm and loving, and her hugs had healed a lot of broken hearts.

  “I’m glad, too,” Beth said. “I hope I didn’t come too soon. I remembered what you said, but—”

  “No, no, you came at exactly the right moment,” Tilly said. She pulled back and took Beth’s hands in her own strong, bony ones. “Jo-nell needs a ride to her job interview. Mary was going to take her, but she’s gone into labor. And I’m her labor coach, so I can’t do it, either. You were sent, honey, and just in the nick of time. Can you help us?”

  Beth’s heart fell. She would do anything for Tilly—all the women in the shelter felt the same way. But…

  “Maybe it would be better if I take over for Audra,” she suggested. “I could work here with the kids, and she could drive Jo-nell to the interview.”

  Tilly’s all-seeing gaze scanned Beth’s face. “You could do that, I suppose,” s
he said. “But Jo-nell is extremely nervous about this interview, and you know she’s always looked up to you. She’d be grateful to have you for moral support.”

  Beth struggled with her rising anxiety. It was true that Jo-nell, who was only eighteen, was especially fond of Beth. They had a lot in common. Both had alcoholic parents, and both had run away from abusive boyfriends. The tragic difference was that, though Tony had let Beth go without a fight, Jo-nell’s boyfriend had tracked her down and threatened her here at the shelter.

  Beth had just happened to be on the scene. She hadn’t done anything, really, except plant herself in front of Jo-nell and order the creep off the property. It was probably the approach of Tilly and her two large Doberman pinschers that had finally sent the boy running, but Jo-nell gave Beth the credit and had worshipped her ever since.

  She’d like to help, but…She thought of the bright lights of the office building and imagined her racing heart, the fight to find breath.

  She gave Tilly a wry smile. “How much moral support will it be if I break down in front of her?”

  “I don’t think that will happen,” Tilly said calmly. “But if it did, at least it would take Jo-nell’s mind off her own worries.”

  Beth mentally ran through the other women who might be at the shelter right now. Corlie had been clean for three weeks, but Tilly wouldn’t want to risk the stress. Virginia was having complications in the last trimester, and spent most of her time in bed. Patrice didn’t have a driver’s license.

  The truth was, everyone had problems—that was why they were here. And most of their problems were even more serious than Beth’s.

  Maybe she should try. Maybe it was just the new challenge she needed, to take her recovery one more step. Tilly believed that Beth had been “sent” to help deal with the problem. Was that possible?

  And was it possible that the challenge had been “sent” to Beth, to help her make progress in this struggle?

  She glanced at Tilly’s serene, elegantly tough face, with its high cheekbones and sparkling eyes. It was hard to doubt Tilly. This grandmother with a heart of honey and a spine of ice had been running this shelter for more than a decade. She’d been inspired by the Mother/Child shelter in south New Jersey, and had been trained by Sally Hanna-Schaefer, the founder of that wonderful place.

  Beth had heard the stories. Through the years Tilly had faced it all—somehow finding a way to help young mothers cope with drug abuse, spousal abuse, sexual abuse, court cases, prison time and even, occasionally, true mental illness.

  And of course there was always the perpetual struggle to make ends meet. But no matter what crisis arose, Beth had never seen Tilly lose her cool.

  “Something will turn up,” she’d say with a calm confidence that had bewildered Beth at first. But then, time and again, Beth had seen it happen. The suite of bedroom furniture donated the night before a graduate moved into a new apartment. The job offer coming the same day the judge ruled that a mother must demonstrate means of support. The volunteer who showed up looking for a way to help, just when it had seemed Tilly would have to close the shelter’s thrift-shop doors.

  Tilly glanced at her watch. “Beth, I need to get back to Mary. What do you think? For Jo-nell’s sake, can you do it?”

  Across the room, Beth could see Audra coming toward them with Daniel in her arms. The woman was making silly faces, blowing soft raspberries against his waving hand.

  Daniel was giggling, of course, loving the attention. The concept of fear didn’t exist for him. Not yet. Beth said a quick prayer that it never would.

  But that was up to her. He was growing so fast. And as he grew, he’d be watching her, using her actions to take the measure of his world.

  With a smile of thanks to Audra, Beth gathered Daniel back into her arms and held his soft warmth against her racing heart.

  She turned to Tilly, who believed in her. Who believed in all of them, even when they didn’t believe in themselves.

  “I can try,” she said.

  IT WAS TRUE, WHAT ALL THE therapists and self-help books said. A lot of baby steps equaled a big, grown-up step. One victory led to another.

  By the end of the day, after making it through Jo-nell’s job interview and riding the bus back to Elmhaven Acres, Beth was so pumped up that she decided to knock on Scott Mulvaney’s door and offer her services as party planner.

  She was a little self-conscious about showing up unannounced, but in spite of the fancy house and the clearly elegant lifestyle, he was one of the most casual men she’d ever met.

  If he seemed busy, or unwelcoming, as if he hadn’t forgiven her for the other day, she could always say she had come to collect her casserole dish.

  He answered the door more quickly this time—he must be getting used to his crutch. She had hardly framed her opening sentence when the door swung wide.

  “Beth!” He looked just as pleased to see her as he had the last time, even though she had no aromatic home-cooked dinner in her hands. “I knew you’d break down and come over sooner or later. What else could you do, when I’ve been holding your casserole dish for ransom?”

  She laughed. The twinkle in his eyes gave him a boyish charm, and that grin was positively infectious.

  “Actually, I’m not just here for the dish. I wondered if you still needed someone to help with the party.”

  His grin broadened. “Do I still need help? Does a drowning man need a life raft?” He backed up, hobbling away from the door as fast as the crutch would allow. “Come in, come in. Quick, before you change your mind!”

  He didn’t know how strong that possibility was. She didn’t allow herself to get too far ahead of herself. She didn’t peer into the recesses of the large house, as she had before. She focused only on the kitchen, which was welcoming in a country-farmhouse way, with a pine table in the center and honey-blond cabinets lining the walls. A nice kitchen. Not pretentious, though of course it probably cost a fortune.

  Lots of windows. Lots of ways out.

  She positioned Daniel’s carrier in front of her with both hands, took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  After that, everything was much easier. She followed along in Scott’s wake like a dinghy being tugged by a yacht. He offered her coffee, or an apple, both of which she refused. He grabbed one of the apples for himself, then led her into the dining room.

  Apparently this was alpha base for party planning. The room was large, with high ceilings, but it seemed much smaller, crowded with dozens of overflowing boxes, large cylinders of what appeared to be paper, and bolts of brightly patterned fabric.

  The table itself was littered with sketches. She glanced at them. Circus clowns, rose-garlanded horses, and big-top tents with multicolored stripes…

  He reached out and held up one of the sketches—a delightful carousel with fanciful animals. If he’d drawn these, he was a very talented man.

  Tilly had told Beth that Scott had inherited Mulvaney Construction, the biggest building company in town. Their signs were on every building site within a hundred miles. In fact, when you were late for an appointment because you’d hit a construction gridlock, you simply reported that you’d run into a Mulvaney, and everyone knew what you meant.

  Mulvaney was a name she associated with scaffolding and drain pipes and concrete blocks the size of elephants. It seemed an odd fit for a guy who drew like this.

  “I’ve had a million ideas, as you can see,” he said. “But they’re all projects for a two-handed guy. I can’t even cut out a paper tiger.”

  She put Daniel’s carrier on the table, toward the center, where it couldn’t slip off. He’d been exhausted by the big day and had dropped off about an hour ago. When they’d lived at the shelter, he’d learned to sleep through all kinds of noise, so their conversation didn’t wake him now.

  Now that her hands were free, she looked through the drawings. “These are beautiful. I guess your daughter has asked for a circus theme?”

  “Yep. I promised her the
coolest circus party in the whole world.” He ran his good hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m going to look like a jerk.”

  “Can’t you just hire a party planner?”

  “Can’t,” he said. “That’s the tricky part. Apparently Angela made some snide comment to Jeannie about how my idea of putting on a party would be to throw a lot of money at some party company and let them do all the work. Jeannie said she stuck up for me and promised her mom that I was doing every bit by hand.”

  Beth wrinkled her nose. “Uh-oh.”

  “Right. Unfortunately, Angela knows me too well. I’d been planning to do exactly that. Now, of course, I can’t.”

  “Hmmm.” Beth had to smile at the typical male dilemma. He was terrified of failing at this task. “I see the problem. But they’re out of town, aren’t they?”

  “Yep. But now that I’ve given her my word…” He shook his head ruefully. “And only seven days left to pull off this miracle.”

  He tossed the sketch onto the table. “I shouldn’t have made such grandiose promises. No Father of the Year award for me.”

  “Maybe not. But I bet we can pull off something decent. Something that will make your daughter happy.” She saw hope dawn on his face, and it made her feel absurdly warm and pleased inside. She hoped she wasn’t being just as foolish as Scott, making promises she couldn’t keep.

  “As you said, you’ve got some great ideas here,” she went on, holding up the carousel sketches. “And while I can’t draw a straight line myself, I’m pretty good with scissors. And I do have the one thing you really need.”

  “What’s that?”

  She held out her palms and wiggled her fingers.

  He took first one wrist, and then the other, with his good hand. He appeared to study them solemnly.

  Then he looked up, smiling. “You’re right. Just what I’ve been looking for. A two-handed woman.”

  He kept hold of her hand, gave her about two seconds to grab Daniel’s carrier and led her through the house with awkward excitement, his crutch thumping against the hardwood floor.