“Sounds good to me.” Doug nodded. “We’ll get a half gallon to go.”
“Chocolate!” Landon shouted.
Kayeleigh punched his arm. “No way! You always get chocolate. Vanilla, Dad. He always gets to choose.”
“Cut it out, you two.”
Mickey raised her hand, playing referee. “How about we get a quart of each? My treat,” she added quickly.
“Ever the diplomat.” Doug held up a palm for a high five.
She slapped her hand against his, grinning.
Twenty minutes later she and Doug were huddled in Adirondack chairs by the fire, their ice cream dripping down the cones faster than they could eat it. Out in the yard the kids played a game of tag in the waning spring sunlight.
“It was a fun day,” Mickey said, attempting to rein in her enthusiasm. In truth, it had been one of the happiest days of her life. But she could hardly tell Doug that.
He hadn’t counted on leaving his arm around her. But there it was. And now it seemed awkward for him to move away.
Chapter Seventeen
Doug swaggered out to the truck, relishing Mickey’s side-splitting laughter as she herded the kids behind him. He’d finally, finally beaten the woman at her own game—bowled a 236. And he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
While she pulled seatbelt duty with the kids, he sat behind the wheel gloating.
She finished buckling Harley in and climbed into the Suburban beside him.
“Let’s see,” he said. “Now, what did you bowl again? I forgot.”
“Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I suppose I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“Not unless you somehow manage to get the championship title back. And by the way, as I recall, the rule was, loser buys dinner. Am I right?” He wiggled his eyebrows, which earned him a punch on the bicep. “Ow!”
“Okay, okay. Dinner’s on me.”
He could tell she was having to work hard not to crack a smile. And he was loving every minute of it. Somehow, Mickey had returned to him—to all of them—the gift of laughter. For a few hours every Sunday, she helped them to forget the terrible thing that had happened to them. And he adored her for it.
So did the kids, though they probably didn’t think about it in such concrete terms. But Mickey had endeared herself to them even more than she had as their daycare teacher, if that was possible.
Sometimes when he picked the kids up from daycare and stayed to talk to Mickey, they talked about how he and the kids were coping with the tragedy. Sometimes they talked about Rachel, with Mickey helping him to remember sweet things his daughter had done and said.
But by unspoken agreement, Sundays were strictly for fun. It was the best therapy he could have hoped for. For the whole family.
“Mickey D’s again?” he said, putting the car in gear.
“No…” She thought for a minute, and then a spark came to her eyes. “How about Mickey V’s tonight?”
He laughed, remembering her warning the first time they’d gone bowling. “Sounds good to me.”
“My brother butchered last week, and they brought me a bunch of hamburger steaks. We can grill those outside.”
“What’s this ‘we’ business?” he teased. “I thought dinner was on the loser.”
“I’m providing the food, buster. I’m not playing chef and dishwasher, too.”
He held up a hand in surrender. “I know, I know. Just kidding.” His mouth was already watering at the thought of a thick, juicy burger.
“You man the grill and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Deal.” It sounded like a very good deal….
An hour later he watched the kids play in Mickey’s spacious yard while the two of them enjoyed the meal she’d “whipped up.”
The sun had gone down. The night air was chilly and laced with the lingering scent of grilled beef.
“You want some ice cream?” Her teeth chattered and she shivered.
“You crazy woman…offering me ice cream while you sit here shivering.” He looked up at the graying sky. “It is almost cold out here, isn’t it?”
“No almost about it. And I thought it was shorts weather.” Mickey pulled shapely legs up onto the wrought-iron bench where they were sitting and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You want to go inside?”
He looked out over the yard where the kids were turning cartwheels on the grass. “I’m not sure I trust the kids not to tear up your flowers.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Do you want to go in?”
“I’m fine.”
He could almost see the gooseflesh rising on her bare arms.
“Here.” It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip off his windbreaker and drape it over her shoulders. He hadn’t counted on leaving his arm around her. But there it was. And now it seemed awkward for him to move away.
Mickey leaned into him ever so slightly. Enough that he realized she’d been anticipating the possibility. For a long minute he struggled with the implications of his simple gesture. All the while they’d worked together making dinner, he’d found excuses for their fingers to touch, or to put a gentle hand at the small of her back as he slipped by her to reach for something. If he left his arm around her now, let her respond to him as he knew she would, they would automatically move to a new level in their friendship.
He was acutely conscious of the warmth of her arm beneath his hand. Her hair barely brushed his shoulder, and the scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils. Desire swept over him in a way it hadn’t since Kaye….
He desperately wanted to draw Mickey close, feel her weight against him. Run his fingers through her silky hair. Make love to her—
He cut the thought off, not wanting to, but knowing he needed to. It felt like forever since he’d known the touch of a woman. The touch of his wife. Mickey was a beautiful, terrible reminder of that.
Knowing there would be a price, yet not caring to count it at the moment, he slid closer to her until their hips were almost touching on the bench. He tightened his arm around her. “Mickey…”
She moved closer still, leaning her head back on his shoulder. She rested one dainty hand on his knee, her fingers drawing gentle circles in the denim.
“It’s been a good day, Doug. Thank you.” Her breath tickled his neck.
She shuddered, and he didn’t think it was from the cold.
“It was a good day. Mickey—” Something told him to backpedal. Stop, before they traversed a line they could never cross back over. “I-I’ve enjoyed our Sundays together. It…it’s helped a lot.”
She leaned heavier against him. Oh, dear God. I don’t know what to do. Kaye… His wife’s presence seemed so strong. Guilt pressed in on him. But Kaye was gone. She was never coming back. And he felt something—something powerful for this woman who’d made him laugh again. Made him hope again.
But surely it was too soon.
He looked down at Mickey. Long, thick lashes lay against the curve of her olive cheek. She was a beautiful woman. Kaye had been pretty in a girl-next-door, all-American-cheerleader sort of way. But Mickey Valdez was a beauty by anyone’s standards. With her wavy, almost-black hair and those violet eyes, she was no doubt accustomed to turning heads. He knew strangers assumed she was his girlfriend—or his wife—when they were out in public together. He enjoyed being the envy of other men when he and Mickey were out on one of their Sunday dates.
Dates? The word rolled so easily from his thoughts. Well, what else were they? C’mon, DeVore. Be honest. You may as well be dating her. And what was wrong with that? No one expected him to grieve forever, to stay single forever.
He squeezed Mickey’s shoulder and brought his hand to her head. She put her hand over his and stroked his fingers. He gave a strangulated laugh. “I suddenly don’t feel cold anymore.”
She smiled up at him. A smile that let him know she was feeling the same things he was feeling. He planted a kiss on
top of her head, brushed a wisp of hair away from her face.
From the yard Harley’s squeal of glee jolted him to his senses. With a gentle nudge he lifted Mickey away from him and rose, moved away from her to look out over the deck’s railing. “Landon, don’t get her all worked up.” You ought to listen to your own advice, DeVore. “It’s almost time to go. You guys need to start gathering your stuff up.”
They hadn’t brought a thing with them, but it was all he could think to say.
He leaned to put a hand on top of Mickey’s. She was still sitting where he’d left her. Her head was bowed, and he couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or hurt…or praying…or what.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks for everything. We…we really need to go. Got to get the little squirt in bed.”
She lifted her head, and somehow he read every nuance of her smile. It told him that she knew he wanted to stay, knew he wanted more of what they’d dabbled at. Maybe even knew that it would happen. Soon enough.
Well, maybe she was right. But for now he was done. He rubbed his hands together. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, and he wouldn’t let it go any further. Not tonight. Not until he had a chance to think things through.
She unfolded herself and glided toward him. For one terrifying moment, he was afraid she was going to kiss him good night. But she brushed by him and started to clear the dishes off the patio table.
The kids made a stink about leaving so soon, and he had to get on their case. By the time he finally got everyone rounded up and strapped into the Suburban, the enchantment of earlier had dissolved. Though it certainly left an imprint.
Mickey seemed to be herself again, helping him buckle seatbelts, chattering with the kids, and dishing out challenges about their next bowling night. She didn’t seem to notice when he didn’t offer to walk her to the door.
Driving home, he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. Dreamed up the electricity that had arced between them back there in her yard. But no. His fingers still tingled where he’d touched her. His lips still burned where he’d kissed her fragrant hair. He’d only known her—like this anyway—for two weeks. But there was no denying that he was falling for her.
And he had no idea what to do with that fact.
She was perfect. So perfect, it moved Mickey to tears. But there was regret—and fear—mixed in those tears as well.
Chapter Eighteen
Come on in, stranger.” Rick opened the door wide and tipped an imaginary hat.
“Well, look who decided to come back into the fold,” Tony called from his roost on the recliner in front of the TV.
“Shut up, you two.” Mickey seared her brothers with the fiercest look she could feign and carried the Boston cream pie she’d made back to the kitchen.
Angie and Rita were at the counter in Angie’s tidy kitchen chopping vegetables for the salad.
“Mmmm…something smells good.”
“Rick made barbecue.”
“Yummy.” She slid her cake-taker onto the counter and exchanged hugs with her sisters-in-law. “Alex and Gina aren’t here yet?”
“They just called,” Angie said. “They’re on their way.”
“The important question is, where’s that baby? You look terrific, Angie.”
“Thanks, hon. I feel good.” Angie glanced at the clock. “The baby’s sleeping, but you can go get her if you want. It’s about time for her to nurse anyway.”
Mickey washed her hands at the sink and headed back to the nursery. She’d held Rick and Angie’s little girl in the hospital two weeks ago, but she was eager to get her hands on the little doll again.
The nursery smelled of baby powder and Lysol. Angie was a bit of a neat freak. Mickey approached the crib and peeked over the bumpered rail. The sight of the sleeping infant took her breath away. She didn’t know why the wonder never dimmed, but it had been this way with her and babies as far back as she could remember.
She picked up the sleeping bundle and cradled her in front of her body so she could inspect every dainty feature. In just two weeks the baby had changed so much. The scrunchy, red-faced newborn had become a picture-book beauty. Their first girl, she would be spoiled rotten—like Mickey had been. She smiled at the affinity she shared with this little angel.
Emerald, they’d named her. Mickey liked it, but even before they’d brought the baby home from the hospital, Rick was shortening it to Emmy. Her flawless olive skin was touched with gold, and long dark lashes lay against her pudgy cheeks.
She squirmed and puckered her lips. She was perfect. So perfect, it moved Mickey to tears. But there was regret—and fear—mixed in those tears as well. Would she ever hold a child of her own? Would God ever grant her the one dream she’d clung to since she was a little girl?
God had been kind to allow many, many children in her life in the form of her precious nieces and nephews and with the daycare. Doug’s children had become extra special to her over the past few weeks. She glanced up at the pink rosebud clock on the nursery wall. They were probably leaving for the bowling alley about now. She missed them. Felt like she was missing out.
She knew her friendship with Doug and his kids was a gift from God. But it wasn’t the same. She longed to carry a baby inside her, feel it grow. Unlike some women, she’d never dreaded the prospect of childbirth. She wanted to feel the pain of pushing a child into the world. She wanted to nurse babies at her breasts and watch them change and grow from the day they were born. Maybe she was selfish for allowing nothing less in her dreams. But surely God hadn’t created her to be a woman with such strong maternal desires, only to withhold the fulfillment of them from her.
Still, as her thirty-first birthday loomed only a few pages away on the calendar, she couldn’t help feeling on the edge of a quiet panic.
Emmy wriggled and stretched, and Mickey snuggled her close. The feelings it triggered inside her, holding this new little life, had to be physical, hormonal. Oh, please, God. I want to hold my own baby someday. Please…Again, the tears flowed.
“Mick?”
Rick’s voice startled her. She swiped at her damp cheek with one hand.
“Dinner’s almost—Hey…why the tears?” He touched her arm. “You okay?”
She inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.” She could never hide anything from her big brother. “Your daughter is so beautiful…that’s all.”
He cocked his head, as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth. Apparently she fooled him because he turned his eyes on his daughter. “We made a pretty one, didn’t we?”
“You did. But, um…I think Angie gets all the credit for the pretty part.”
The baby stirred in her arms. Mickey hitched her up over her shoulder, and Emmy let out a very unladylike burp.
Mickey giggled. “That, she inherited from her dad.”
Laughing, Rick puffed out his chest. He slung an arm around her and the baby. “Let’s go check out that barbecue.”
She followed him, grateful for the diversion.
Kayeleigh slurped the last of her Diet Coke and slouched down in the ratty velvet seat in the dark theater. They finally got a Sunday without stupid Miss Valdez tagging along, and Dad had spent the entire day moping around like he’d lost his best friend or something.
Okay, she had to admit she was kind of sorry she and Landon had talked Dad into going to some lame kids’ movie instead of going bowling like usual. She was getting pretty good at the sport if she did say so herself. And she’d read in Rudi’s Seventeen magazine just yesterday that it was good exercise, too. She could already tell she’d lost a little weight. See if Lisa Breck called her “Chunkola” behind her back now.
Bowling would have been fun with only Dad. Maybe then he would have said two words to her instead of being all googly-eyes over Miss Valdez.
She’d worked up the courage to talk to Rudi about it last week, and her best friend had said something she hadn’t thought about. “Your dad’s probably awfully lone
ly, without…you know…your mom.”
“What? Rudi, think about it. He’s got five of us there almost all the time. How could he be lonely?”
Rudi had looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you ever lonely, Kayeleigh? Even with everybody else in the house?”
At first Rudi’s question made her mad, but after she thought about it for a while, she could sort of see where she was coming from. The thing that got to her was: what if Mom could see them? She’d heard a lot of different stuff about heaven, and some of it made it sound like people in heaven could see down here on earth. She was pretty sure Mom wouldn’t be happy about the way Dad looked at Miss Valdez. Or the way Miss Valdez touched him when she didn’t think anyone was looking.
Rudi’s dad had died when she was a baby, and her mom had married again. Howie wasn’t like a stepfather to her because he was the only dad she remembered. So…maybe after you’d been in heaven awhile you didn’t care so much if your wife or husband started liking somebody else.
It was all too confusing. She blew out a breath and tried to turn off her mind and concentrate on the movie. There were some funny parts, but it was pretty lame. From two seats away, Landon shot her a dirty look. He was getting to be a real pain…except when Miss Valdez was around. Then he suddenly turned into a perfect angel, and Miss Valdez treated him like he was God’s gift to the world.
The surround-sound music swelled, and she focused on the movie screen. The cartoon characters were singing. It was a sad melody, and too late, she realized they were singing about trying to find their mother. She knew from the previews that the mother was dead. Dad had tried to talk them into a different movie, but she and Landon and the twins outvoted him. Now she was sorry. She snuck a glance at the twins. They wore identical gap-mouthed expressions. Kayeleigh looked at Dad, figuring he’d be watching the twins and Landon, worried the scene was too sad for them.
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