by Marta Perry
That diverted him from the guilt he seemed to be feeling, as she intended. “Now that I think of it, the Flanagans did rush off to the emergency room fairly often.”
She nodded. “It was usually Ryan, trying hard to do what the older ones did and breaking a bone or getting a black eye in the process. I guess that goes with being the youngest.”
“I wouldn’t know.” His face darkened a little, and she remembered what he’d said once, about being jealous of their big, noisy family. Coupled with Mom’s comments about what his mother had been like, it gave her a bit more insight into what made him tick.
She leaned forward, reaching out impulsively to touch his hand. “If you’re feeling guilty because it was your yard and your tree, please stop. It was just kids being kids. Apparently Michael called her a scaredy cat, and she had to prove she wasn’t.”
He shook his head. “I don’t feel guilty because it happened at my place. I feel guilty because I saw it happening and I couldn’t get there in time to help.”
“You tried.” Her voice went soft, and she saw him again, stretched out in the grass where he’d fallen, trying to reach her child.
“But I didn’t succeed.” His jaw clenched. “I let her down.”
“Luke, it wasn’t your fault.” She should have realized he would blame himself.
He shook his head. “I was there. I couldn’t help her. It feels like my fault to me.”
“You’re making too much of this.” His sense of responsibility was part of what had made him a cop and a soldier, but he was letting it skew his vision. “I don’t care if you’d been a world-class sprinter, you couldn’t have reached her.”
“Maybe not, but it feels like a pretty solid indication that I shouldn’t be assuming responsibility for anyone.”
That was what he’d meant, then, when he’d refused to watch Michael for a few minutes. Her heart hurt for him.
“You’re talking about how every parent feels when a child gets hurt the first few times.” She hesitated. Did that make it sound as if she thought he had, or would have, that kind of relationship with her kids? “You get over it, because if you didn’t, you’d overprotect your kids and keep them from growing up.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mary Kate. You don’t know how sorry.” Some emotion crossed his face, so fleeting that she couldn’t identify it. “But it doesn’t change what I feel, what I know. I can’t put myself in a position where I’m responsible for someone else’s safety and happiness.”
She knew what Luke was really saying. He was saying that, whatever they might feel, they didn’t have a future.
Chapter Fourteen
Luke leaned back in the pew, glancing toward the stained-glass windows. Rain might be pouring against the panes, but the atmosphere inside Grace Church was warm and bright, alive with music, friendly faces and a message he’d needed. The song they’d sung at the beginning of the service, about the sweet spirit in this place, had been true.
He didn’t quite know what instinct had driven him to get up early, dress and call a taxi to take him to morning worship. Maybe it was the sense that he’d hit bottom, emotionally, in the moment he’d seen Shawna fall.
Odd. He’d certainly been more depressed during those long weeks in the hospital when he hadn’t been sure he wanted to keep on breathing.
But the moment he’d realized he wasn’t going to reach Shawnie in time had given him a clear-eyed vision of what his future could and could not be. Now the problem was to accept it.
Whatever had brought him here this morning, the instinct had been right on target. Brendan’s sermon had been as conversational as if he sat around a kitchen table with friends. He’d talked about hearing God’s voice in the whirlwind, about finding peace in the midst of chaos.
The words had reverberated in Luke’s heart. He knew all about the whirlwind in the form of the sand that swirled up in the desert, getting in your eyes, your ears, distorting everything so that you didn’t know where you were or who your enemy was.
He’d known the chaos. Now he sought the peace.
He stood for the closing hymn, balancing himself against the pew in order to open the hymnal. When he looked up, glancing across the pews, he met his father’s gaze. He looked away, more confused than angry.
Brendan would probably say that peace would elude him as long as he held on to the anger in his heart. But it was deserved, wasn’t it? How could it be right to ignore the harm someone had done?
When the final Amen had been said and sung, the organ burst forth in a joyous peal. People began turning to their neighbors, greeting each other, the buzz of conversation competing with the organ’s notes.
He was suddenly as eager to leave as he’d been to come. Too many people, too much noise, too many competing emotions jostling through him. He had to get home to sort it all out. But as he reached the end of the pew, a small body came squirming through the crowd to him.
“Luke!” Michael’s face lit with a smile that the most hard-hearted would find impossible to resist. “I wanted to talk to you, and you’re here.”
“I’m here,” he agreed. “How are you doing? Is Shawna better?”
“She’s okay.” Michael shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Listen, you still want to finish the car with me, don’t you? Mommy said maybe I should ask Uncle Gabe to help me with it, but I said you’d be sad if I didn’t let you.”
“That’s not exactly the way it went.” Mary Kate reached her son, catching him by the shoulders. “Michael, it’s very rude to rush through where people are trying to walk.”
“But I had to see Luke. I was afraid he’d leave if I didn’t hurry. And he wants to help me with my car. Don’t you, Luke?”
Mary Kate met his eyes, harassed, and shrugged a little. “I’m afraid this is just like asking if someone can come to dinner when the someone is standing right there. I was trying to explain to Michael that now that you’re getting better, you might not have time to work on the car with him.”
She was giving him an out, if he wanted to take it. He should do just that, but how could he when Michael was looking at him with such trust in those big eyes?
Don’t trust me, he wanted to say. Don’t depend on me, because I might let you down. But he couldn’t.
“It’s okay.” He’d like to wipe the wariness out of Mary Kate’s eyes, but he couldn’t do that, either. “We can finish it up in one session. Michael, you come over when your mom’s there some time this week. All right?”
“Yeah! I knew you’d say yes. I’m going to tell Uncle Gabe.”
Michael went squirming off through the crowd again, but he didn’t have to go far. A whole phalanx of Flanagans was bearing down on them. Shawna reached them first and grabbed her mother’s hand.
He nodded to her. “How’s your head?”
“It’s okay.” Shawna wiggled, pulling on Mary Kate’s hand. “Mommy, can I go talk to Casey before she leaves?”
“All right.” Mary Kate smiled, shaking her head a little as Shawna rushed off. “I guess trying to teach my kids manners at the end of the worship service isn’t such a good idea.”
He looked after Shawna, who’d caught up with a friend. They had their heads together, giggling over something. “She seems none the worse for wear.”
“She’s fine. Having stitches has increased her popularity at school for some reason.” Her gaze met his, and again he saw that wariness. “Are you sure about Michael? You don’t have to be bothered with it if you don’t want.”
“I promised him. And I can’t do much damage with you right there.”
“Luke—” She stopped, biting her lip. Maybe she figured this wasn’t the time to teach him anything, either.
Hard. It was hard just to stand there, not giving anything back to her. But if he started, it would be worse in the long run. They could never be anything but friends, if that. Mary Kate was defined by her kids, and he couldn’t possibly take on that kind of responsibility.
The crow
d was thinning out. He took one step toward the door, and then Siobhan and Joe Flanagan reached him. Siobhan put her hand on his arm, so that he couldn’t escape without shaking her off. Even in his need to get out, he couldn’t be that rude.
“Good morning, Mrs. Flanagan. Joe.”
“It’s so good to see you out at church this morning. We’d have been happy to pick you up, if you’d just let us know.”
“Thanks, but I didn’t have any trouble getting here.” They didn’t need to know he’d come by taxi and planned to go home the same way.
“Well, it’s too wet out for a picnic, so we’re having dinner at our house today. Why don’t you come? We’d love to have you.”
He kept a smile on his face with an effort. It wasn’t going to be easy to preserve a polite distance from Mary Kate if her family kept inundating him with invitations.
“That’s nice of you, but I already have plans.” Eating a frozen dinner and watching the Phillies on television constituted plans, didn’t it?
“If you can’t make it this week, at least promise you’ll join us for the Memorial Day picnic next weekend. Unless you’re going to be with your father, of course.”
“No. I’m not.” Not that his father would ask him, in any event.
“That’s settled, then.” She patted his arm before releasing it. We’ll plan to see you after the parade, then.”
His smile slid, despite his best efforts. Had Mary Kate told them about his reactions to being in the Memorial Day parade? No, of course she wouldn’t do that. She looked just as awkward as he felt.
She took her mother’s arm. “Come on, Mom. We don’t want to keep Luke standing here talking if he has plans. We can make arrangements about the picnic some other time.”
He took advantage of the moment to turn away, nodding toward Gabe and Seth and their families. “I’ll see you later. Have a pleasant afternoon.” He started up the aisle before anyone else could stop him.
Memorial Day was a week away—so it had been over a month since Mary Kate forced her way into his life. Somehow it seemed both longer and shorter at the same time.
He reached the door, nodding his thanks to a teenage boy who held it open for him. Incredible, that she could have become so important to him so quickly. And just as incredible that it would soon be over.
Give it another week, and he could move into going to the clinic a couple of times a week for his therapy. Maybe schedule it at a time when Mary Kate wouldn’t be there. They’d drift apart, and eventually the ache in his heart would go away.
It was for the best, but he’d be awhile convincing himself of that.
Michael’s voice, light and high, sounded from the workroom. Mary Kate paused in the act of putting lunch dishes away in Luke’s kitchen, listening. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could interpret the tone of voice. Michael, usually a little shy with people he didn’t know well, was chattering away as if Luke had always been part of his life.
She didn’t understand, hadn’t understood from the beginning, why her son so was drawn to Luke. The initial attraction of the wounded soldier was natural enough, but it had always been more than that. It was as if Michael instinctively recognized in Luke someone who would be a friend.
The low rumble of Luke’s response touched a chord in her heart and she struggled to deal with it. Neither of them had intended to develop feelings for the other. It had seemed inappropriate on so many levels. But it had happened.
And just as she had begun to feel something might eventually be possible between them, Luke had slammed the door on it. Why was it so difficult for him to understand that he had a great deal to offer, no matter how fast he could move?
“Mom!” Michael poked his head around the door frame. “Hurry, come and see the car!”
“I’m on my way.” Drying her hands on a tea towel, she followed her son into the workroom.
The space no longer had a dusty, forlorn look. Man and boy working there together had changed it, although they certainly hadn’t cleaned it up.
“This place could use a good cleaning.” She whisked the tea towel at the bench top and it came away grimy. “How can you work in here?”
Luke actually smiled for the first time in days. “Just like a woman. Men don’t need clean when they’re working with tools, do they, Michael?”
Michael positively danced with excitement. “Look, Mom, look. But don’t touch it. The paint has to dry for twenty-four hours before anyone can touch it,” he added importantly.
The car, gleaming red with a silver racing stripe, sat in the middle of a piece of newspaper on the workbench. The overhead light was focused directly on it. They’d staged this, she realized, and her reaction had to be just right.
“Wow,” she said it slowly and reverently. “That’s absolutely beautiful. I can’t believe you did all that. It’s a masterpiece.”
“It is. And I did most of it, Mommy. Luke just helped and told me how to do it.”
She bit back the urge to remind him to thank Luke. The two of them had developed their own relationship and she knew instinctively that intruding on it would be wrong.
“That’s wonderful, Michael. I’m so proud of you.”
And proud of Luke, too, although she could probably never tell him that. He’d accomplished as much as Michael had in bringing this project to completion. He’d become a different person from the man she’d met that first day, and her son had been one of the keys to that transformation.
“Daddy would be proud, too. Wouldn’t he?”
She suppressed a pang. “Yes, he certainly would be proud of you.”
Michael stood at the edge of the table, his hands twisting together. “Twenty-four hours is a long time to wait.”
“Maybe it would go faster if you didn’t stand there looking at the car,” Luke suggested, and she heard the smile in his voice.
“Good idea.” She took Michael’s shoulders and turned him away from the table. “Why don’t you go out and shoot a few baskets while Luke and I talk? I’ll be ready to leave in a little bit.”
“Okay, Mommy.” He rounded the table and stopped in front of Luke. “We did good.”
Luke held up his hand for a high five. “We sure did, buddy.”
“I bet I can make five baskets.” Michael dashed for the door. “I’ll come and tell you if I do.”
She waited until the screen door had slammed behind him before she turned to Luke. “Thank you. You’ve done a wonderful thing for him. Something I didn’t even realize needed to be done.”
He shrugged, putting the lid back on a can of enamel. “I enjoyed it. He’s a great kid. You should be proud of the way you’re raising both of them.”
“Learning from my mistakes, anyway,” she said. “And that reminds me, I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” He glanced at her, distracted from the paint cans and brushes.
“You were right about Shawna. She was holding something back, trying to be a tough soldier instead of a little girl.”
“What happened? She’s all right, isn’t she?”
That instant concern for her children told her more about his feelings than anything else could. Her heart twisted. If only he could see that his caring and concern were more important than any physical strength.
“She’s fine now.” Her voice choked a little. “It wasn’t the problem that was so bad—just her way of dealing with it. If she hadn’t fallen out of the tree, I’m not sure how long it would have taken me to realize what was going on.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better about her getting hurt—”
“No. I’m trying to tell you that you were right about Shawna.” She wanted to touch him and didn’t dare. “You saw what was going on with her and I was blind to it. That’s a little humiliating for a mother, you know.”
He stood, shoving the stool away and taking his canes, and she suspected he was using the movement to cover the emotion that gripped him. If he would just admit what he was feeling, but he
wouldn’t.
“You shouldn’t think that,” he said finally. “You’re a good mother. Those two kids couldn’t ask for better. As far as any insight I might have, well, sometimes the person on the outside sees more. That’s all.”
The person on the outside. He was reiterating that, just in case she hadn’t gotten it already.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Well, thank you, in any event. For the wisdom and for the car. We’ve all benefited from the past month.”
That sounded like an ending. Judging from Luke’s expression, it was.
He moved slightly, his gaze evading hers. “It’s been a good month, even if I haven’t acted that way all the time. You’ve brought me a lot farther than I expected to come, and I’m grateful.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” It took an effort to keep the smile planted on her face.
“I think I’ve made enough progress, thanks to you, that I’d be comfortable going to the clinic for my regular therapy sessions in addition to the pool. I’ve already spoken to the director about it. He’s going to set something up.”
She’d known it was coming. It was the natural progress of things. She wanted him to stand on his own, without her. So why did it have to hurt this much?
She mastered her emotions enough to speak. “I see. Did you also ask for a new therapist?”
“No! I didn’t say anything that would reflect badly on you. Do you think I’d do that, after everything you’ve done for me?”
She couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes. She shouldn’t let him see, but it was too late. He made some inarticulate sound and reached out to wipe the tear from her cheek. She swayed toward him, drawn to the warmth and caring that seemed to flow from him.
He pulled back, the movement sharp and jerky, as if it weren’t quite under control. He took a long breath, so deep that she could see the movement of his chest.
“I’m sorry…” she began.
“Don’t be.” He sounded almost angry. “It’s not your fault or mine. We’re attracted to each other. We can’t control what we feel, but we can control what we do. I was wrong to think this could go anywhere. The issue isn’t that you’re my therapist. It’s that I could never be a father to your kids, and you shouldn’t settle for anything less.”
