“I saw her,” he said, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.
“She wouldn’t come in,” Susan continued. “She and Jenny were fighting when they got here.” The light angling in from the side window made the freckles and blemishes in her skin stand out more clearly. “I had to send Jenny to her room.”
“I’m sorry. What was the problem?” He hoped it wouldn’t be too difficult to solve.
“It’s the mother-daughter Thanksgiving tea party they’re having at school next week. Apparently, the kids in several of the grades are planning a special day for their mothers or other guest.”
Ryan’s heart sank, knowing the “or other guest” part was mostly for Ria’s benefit. These events were always hard on Ria, no matter how careful the teachers were not to single out her loss.
“The fight,” Susan was saying, “was because Jenny told Ria she would have to find someone besides me to go with her.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Do you have someone Ria could go with? Her grandmother maybe? Ordinarily, I’d volunteer, but Jenny’s . . . well, she keeps begging me to quit baby-sitting as it is, and I feel she needs me to be there just for her.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ryan said shortly. Then, lest he’d hurt her feelings, he added, “Thanks, Susan—for telling me.”
“You know, Ria’s not happy here.” Susan glanced at Tiger and two of her own towheaded sons. They were all engrossed in the cartoons and taking no notice of them. “I know it’s been difficult since her mother . . . I’ve tried, but . . .” She shrugged. “Tiger’s really no problem, but if you’d rather find another place for him so that Ria will be happier, I’d understand.”
Ryan knew this wasn’t easy for Susan to say. She needed the extra money baby-sitting brought to her family, and while Tiger’s mind wasn’t stretched or challenged at Susan’s, he was always safe.
“I’ve been thinking about enrolling Tiger in a preschool in the afternoons,” he said. “Just two or three times a week. I’d still pay as much as I do now if you’d see that he gets there and pick him up. Of course,” he added hastily, seeing a tenseness come to her face, “if that’s too much work, I might be able to work it out on my lunch hour or something.”
“It’s just with all the other kids, I’m pretty busy. I’ve got one-year-old twins I’m watching now.”
Ryan nodded. He understood the complication of taking children anywhere. Asking Susan to bundle up one-year-old twins, her own three-year-old son, and the three other children she baby-sat would be simply too much to ask on a permanent basis. Then again, he didn’t feel letting Tiger sit in front of the TV all day was a responsible thing to do. Tiger was ready to move on to something more challenging.
“When are you going to start him in school?” Susan asked.
“I don’t really have it planned yet. I’m still looking for a teacher.”
“Well, let me know.” She tucked a frazzled wisp of hair that had strayed from her ponytail behind her ear and stood up.
“Come on, Tiger,” Ryan said, rising from the sofa. “We need to go. Ria has practice, and we need to zip home and grab something to eat.”
“Eat?” Tiger asked with interest, though his eyes didn’t leave the cartoons.
Knowing it would be easier to physically move him than to entice him away from the TV, Ryan bent down and scooped up his little boy from the floor.
“Dad!” he protested.
Ignoring him, Ryan threw him over his shoulders. “Thanks for the sack of potatoes, Susan. I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”
Tiger giggled and beat on his back. “Dad, I’m not potatoes! I’m Tiger!”
“I think my potatoes are talking,” Ryan said to no one in particular. “I guess they don’t like the idea of becoming french fries.”
“French fries? I want french fries!”
“Do you have to yell?” By this time they were out to the truck, and Ryan dumped Tiger unceremoniously inside next to Ria.
“We’re going to have french fries tonight,” Tiger was informing Ria as Ryan opened his own door and slid behind the wheel.
“No, we’re not,” Ryan said. “We’re having whatever’s in the freezer that we can warm up in the microwave.”
“Aw, Dad.”
“We’ve had enough french fries since I started in that play. We need something else. Something green.” Ryan checked for traffic as he pulled from the curb.
“Yuck!” Ria and Tiger chimed together.
“Well, maybe not green, exactly, but healthier. You know what I mean.”
“I had a green french fry once,” Tiger said hopefully. “I found it under my bed.”
Ria groaned, but Ryan laughed. “You mean you actually cleaned under it?”
“No, I was hiding Ria’s doll.”
“I don’t have any dolls!” Ria’s smile vanished. “I hate dolls.”
Tiger was nonplussed. “I guess that’s why you never came to look for it.”
Ria folded her arms and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Anyway, we don’t have any dinners in the freezer. I took out the last ones yesterday.”
“You mean the Chinese bowls?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah. And there weren’t any more at all. Well, there is that casserole, the one”—her voice suddenly sounded choked—“that Mom made.”
Silence fell over them, as subtle as a ton of humongous green french fries. They all knew what Ria was talking about. When Laurie’s illness had become pronounced, she’d made bunches of dinners whenever she had the energy, storing them in the freezer for nights when neither of them wanted to cook. After she’d taken to bed and her sister had come to help out, they hadn’t used the dinners anymore. There’d been six left when Laurie died. He’d given one to the children every week or two, not eating any himself so the meal would last them several days. But he hadn’t been able to cook the last one. It simply wasn’t in him to have it all be over.
“Are we going to eat that?” Tiger looked at them with huge eyes.
“Do you want to?”
The kids thought for a moment, and then Ria shook her head. “No,” she decided. “Let’s save that for a special day. Maybe Christmas.”
Ryan felt his face relax, though until that moment, he hadn’t realized it had been frozen somewhere between a smile and a frown. “We’d better swing by the store then. We’re almost home. You two stay in the truck while I run in and change. We still have time.”
“We could get french fries instead,” Tiger said, with his usual single-mindedness.
“Tiger!” Ria slugged him playfully in the shoulder, and he giggled.
Ryan pulled into their driveway and left them laughing while he hurried inside the house. He hated going in alone, even just for a minute. There was an abandoned air that he didn’t know how to eliminate. Was it the dust on top of the picture frames that he never seemed to find time to clean? Was it the constant pile of dirty clothes in the laundry basket by the washer? Or perhaps Tiger’s handprints on the walls? Saturday, he’d try to clean it all and see. Yet in his heart he knew it would still feel abandoned. Was this why Laurie had been so insistent on his remarrying? Did she understand the emptiness her leaving would create not only in his heart but in their home?
Shaking these thoughts from his mind, he pulled on jeans and a heavy flannel shirt. Then he traded his work boots for tennis shoes before hurrying out the door.
The children were still laughing, and he let them enjoy each other for a few minutes more before bringing up the problem at school. “So, I hear you’re having a tea party,” he said casually to Ria as they turned into Macey’s parking lot. “It sounds really fun. Do I get to go?”
Ria’s grin vanished instantly. “It’s for moms.”
“Or other guests.”
“Yeah, so they say. But everyone will be bringing their moms, and you’re not even a girl.”
“Whew!” He pretended to wipe his brow. “That’s a relief. It’d be pretty hard being a dad if I was a girl.”
; Tiger guffawed, slapping his leg, but Ria quelled him with a haughty glare. “If you’re not a girl, you’ll stand out. It’ll be embarrassing.”
“Not as embarrassing as if I were wearing a dress and a wig.”
“Daaaaaad!” Ria’s eyes glistened with tears, and Ryan knew he’d gone far enough. The Ria who would have giggled at imagining him wearing high heels was apparently long gone.
“What about Grandma?” he said more seriously.
Ria rolled her eyes. “Can’t I just be sick that day?”
Ryan was tempted to say yes, but he knew that would make things worse the next time something similar came up. He found a parking place for the truck and turned toward her. “You can’t stay home,” he said quietly.
“Why not?” Her mouth trembled.
“Because it’s not going away. All your life you’re going to have to deal with events like this. We all will. And as much as we miss your mom, she wouldn’t want us to hide at home when things get difficult.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just marry Sam,” came Ria’s sullen retort.
“Sam’s already married, and she loves her husband a lot.”
“Well, he’s stupid. He doesn’t treat her right.”
Sam’s husband was a stubborn man, but not a bad one. “I think he’ll change.”
“Well, I hope he doesn’t.”
Ryan sighed. How could he explain to Ria that Sam was absolutely out of reach? Ryan could tell how much she still loved her husband even if she and everyone else was doubtful. He knew they’d work things out eventually. “Look, maybe I can ask Sam if she’ll go with you,” he said, deciding that compromise was the best solution.
That was the worst thing about single parenting—not having someone to bounce ideas off, to assure he was making the right decisions. What if something he chose now affected Ria’s entire life negatively? There would only be himself to blame and no one to commiserate with or share the burden.
Ria smiled, though her eyes were still teary. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Can we go in now?” Tiger said, pulling off his safety belt. He grinned at Ria. “I still think you should take Dad. He really could wear a dress, you know. Susan could give him one.”
Ryan groaned. “Four years old and already a wise guy.”
They had filled their shopping cart to the brim and were making a last dash for chocolate milk mix. He was surprised to see a boy Tiger’s age waving at him with one hand, the other gripping a half-full cart of groceries.
Ryan immediately recognized the boy as Kerrianne Price’s son—Caleb, if he remembered the name correctly. Sure enough, next to the cart, with her back toward him, was Kerrianne, reaching for what looked like an enormous slab of chocolate wrapped in cellophane. She wore the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt of that morning, and her hair looked soft and freshly combed. From the side he could more clearly see her high cheekbones and fine pale skin. Her other two children, whom he also recognized but whose names he didn’t know, were also with her: a boy with dark blond hair and the girl with the curly golden locks and smooth skin.
“Not that kind,” Kerrianne was saying, bending closer to take a look at the labels. The two children leaned in with her. It was an oddly intimate moment, and though they were in the middle of a grocery store, Ryan had the distinct impression that he was intruding upon their privacy. Should he go back down the aisle? Or perhaps he should pass by her as though he hadn’t seen them. Well, it was too late for that. Caleb was still waving with a bright grin on his face.
“Isn’t that the lady from the other night?” Tiger asked, pointing at Kerrianne as she put something into her cart. “Is that her boy, the one I’m going to play with?”
Ryan knew he had no choice but to at least say a casual hello. He was both excited and nervous at the prospect. How would she react? Could it be any worse than that morning? Probably, but he found he was willing to take the chance.
Kerrianne was stretching now, reaching for something on a high shelf. In seconds she would turn and see him. A knot formed in Ryan’s stomach.
That was when it began to rain chocolate.
Chapter Eight
Kerrianne couldn’t believe the huge block of semisweet baking chocolate she’d bought on Monday after Maxine’s makeup party was all gone. At the time she’d told herself there was no way she’d need more before her next shopping day, and as money was always tight, she’d decided against buying extra. Then Misty had volunteered to take a treat to her school class, and she’d chosen her favorite—homemade chocolate chip cookies. Since they were out of chocolate chips, they’d had to cut up a good portion of the baking chocolate to make the treats. Then Kerrianne had eaten the rest of it this morning after Ryan asked her out. Just the boost she’d needed before afternoon preschool.
Knowing she’d never make it through that night, much less the weekend without at least having a stash available in case of dire need, Kerrianne had hauled all the children to the store. It was going smoothly—or so she thought.
“We need the semisweet,” she said. “We’ll just get one.” Then remembering the cookies, she decided to buy an extra for emergencies, even though she had two bags of chocolate chips already in the basket.
Benjamin had hold of the shelf that was even with his head and was pulling himself up to peer at the white chocolate. “Be careful,” Kerrianne warned, eyes wandering over the many choices. Macey’s had a great assortment of bulk baking chocolate this time of year since it was nearing the holidays. Some pieces were only as long as her hand, but others were almost double that size.
Misty grabbed onto the same shelf as Benjamin, trying to reach a slab on the shelf above. “I found a big one,” she said, puffing a bit with effort.
“Mom,” Caleb called. “Hey, Mom!”
“In a minute. Stay with the cart,” Kerrianne was aware of someone moving down the aisle, passing several other customers near the middle of the row. She hoped they didn’t need bulk chocolate. She liked taking time to choose the right pieces. “I’m almost finished,” she told Caleb a little louder, in case the approaching customer was waiting for the chocolate. For some reason the cart had paused a few paces away.
She hurriedly put a second block of chocolate into her cart without glancing in the other shopper’s direction. Would that be enough? Who knew with the evening Maxine had planned for her tomorrow night. Feeling a brief surge of panic, Kerrianne grabbed for another slab, almost losing her balance but catching herself with a hand on a shelf. Benjamin’s shelf. The same one Misty was now practically climbing on in her efforts to reach the perfect piece of chocolate.
“Misty, get dow—”
The shelf gave a moan, and something broke with a sickening clang. Tilting downward, it disgorged its heavy load of chocolate. Kerrianne spread her hands, trying to catch the chocolate slabs as they fell, curling her body slightly to perhaps catch some on her knees. At the same time, she checked the children. Misty had fallen to the ground but was unhurt. Benjamin was holding a large block of chocolate and watching her with big eyes. “Ow!” he exclaimed, as a single remaining slab teetered and fell on his foot.
Kerrianne had managed to save four of the slabs but only just. One was balanced on her knee, and she had to carefully rescue it with her hands already full of chocolate. Her face was flushed, and she felt as hot as if she’d run five miles. She knew everyone in the aisle was staring at her. Someone laughed.
She reached up and righted the shelf, balancing on top of it the chocolate she’d saved before stooping down for more. The shelf promptly tilted, and the slabs fell toward Kerrianne’s face at an alarming rate. She tried to bring up her hands, but they held more chocolate now and were too heavy to move quickly. A black eye was inevitable. Fleetingly, she wondered if this would finally cure her habit of emotional binging on chocolate.
A hand snatched the block of chocolate away before it slammed into her face. Kerrianne felt herself grow limp with relief. “Thanks,” she murmured, catching sig
ht of jeans and tennis shoes belonging to a man. She knew her face was bright red.
Too embarrassed to meet his gaze, she quickly began picking up the chocolate, stacking the good ones on the floor and placing all the damaged ones in her cart. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be too many as most of the slabs had kindly cushioned their fall by smacking into her arms and legs, though she’d certainly have to forget about a new outfit for tomorrow night. She would write a check and transfer the money from savings later.
“You don’t have to buy it all,” said a voice. “I’m sure the store will take care of it.”
“I need it,” she said loudly. “For the kids, I mean.”
“We never get to eat that. Only you,” Benjamin said helpfully, as though sure she’d forgotten.
“For cookies,” she said, glaring at him. “You ate those, didn’t you?”
“Mom, you never get this much.” Misty stared with wide eyes.
Misty was right. Kerrianne stopped loading the chocolate into her cart, her eyes finally coming to rest on the man standing beside her. Her thanks froze on her tongue.
Ryan!
He looked more like he had as the Sheriff of Nottingham than when he delivered her mail. He wore his clothes as though they were comfortable, exuding a masculinity that made her feel lost. His face was still unshaven, and his gray eyes penetrating, causing that now-familiar warmth in her stomach.
“Hi,” he said, his voice rich with amusement.
“Thanks,” she managed, feeling a surge of resentment at Maxine. If it hadn’t been for Maxine and that Saturday night play, she might not even have recognized him. He certainly wouldn’t have noticed me, she thought with resentment. They could have passed like strangers without any awkwardness. Maybe he wouldn’t even have stopped to help.
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