by Gina Wilkins
Though the security lighting in the neighborhood dimmed the cloudless night sky, Mitch could just see the glimmer of stars overhead and the blinking lights of a high-passing plane. A nearly full moon floated serenely over the sleepy scene, its reflection glittering on the water of the inground pool that took up about half of the good-size backyard. The pool was surrounded by a decorative, wrought-iron fence. Meagan had laughingly confided that Waldo would play in the pool for hours if they didn’t keep it fenced and that the dog enjoyed tossing toys, sticks and anything else he could find into the water they tried to keep clean.
Life in a peaceful Little Rock neighborhood. These were the sounds and sights Mitch had experienced all his life. He had spent a month one summer during high school working on a friend’s rural family farm, and although he had enjoyed the experience, he’d learned then that he wasn’t really suited to country living. He liked living in the city.
Because it was separated into such distinct neighborhoods, Little Rock was known as a good-size city with a small-town feel. The largest in the state, the capitol city had a population of just less than 700,000. It had its share of urban issues, like any metropolis. Some neighborhoods struggled with poverty, crime and drugs, and he had seen the results of those problems all too often during his training at the teaching hospital. The children’s hospital where he worked now had received national acclaim for its excellence, and he was proud to be associated with it. And yet…
He wished he knew for sure whether the restiveness inside him was a result of wanderlust or some other deficiency in his life. Would he be more enthusiastic about settling permanently into a place of his own—like those houses he’d toured the past Saturday—if he had someone special with whom to share that house? A family to fill the empty bedrooms? His own dog in his own backyard?
For some reason, he glanced up toward Jacqui’s bedroom window then, seeing no lights shining there. Was she lying awake replaying their kisses in her mind? Did she, too, ache with a hunger to carry those embraces further? Were her nerves still thrumming, her skin still oversensitized, her pulse still erratic—as his were? Or was she sleeping peacefully up there alone, maybe even relieved that they had been interrupted before they’d both gotten carried away by attraction and proximity?
He rose abruptly. “Okay, dog, I’m going to bed. Alice will be home tomorrow, so you’ll get plenty of attention then.”
Assuming, of course, that Jacqui didn’t lock the girl in her room until her father was home again to take over her supervision, he thought, only half-jokingly. He couldn’t say he would blame Jacqui for being tempted to do just that.
Locking the kitchen door behind him and resetting the alarm system, he turned out the lights and headed quietly up the stairs. He had to pass Jacqui’s door on the way to his room. He paused when he heard a sound from inside. Had she said something to him?
The sound came again, and this time he heard the distress in her voice. Nightmare? He tapped lightly on the door. “Jacqui? You okay?”
When there was no answer, he cracked the door open just to be sure she was all right, peeking through the opening into the darkened room. “Jacqui?”
She stirred restlessly against her pillows, making another soft but infinitely sad sound. Abandoning discretion, he moved across the room, sitting on the side of the bed to place a hand lightly on her face. “Jacqui. It’s okay. You’re dreaming.”
He could just make out her face in the shadows. Her eyes opened, their depths glittering with unshed tears. She sounded dazed and disoriented when she said, “What?”
“You were dreaming,” he repeated gently. “Sounded like a bad one. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
She reached up to rub a hand over her face, swiping her cheeks as if to make sure they were dry. “I’m okay. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I was just passing your door on my way to bed. I wouldn’t have even heard you if I’d been in my room.”
“What time is it?”
He glanced at the clock. “Eleven-thirty. I’ve been outside chatting with Waldo.”
Apparently, he’d sat outside longer than he had realized.
She drew a deep breath, and he was pleased to note that she sounded steadier now. “Go get some sleep, Mitch. I’m fine, thanks.”
“Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“I’m sure.”
Still, he hated to leave her alone when he suspected her hands were still trembling. “That incident with Alice tonight really rattled you, didn’t it?”
“I was concerned,” she replied a little stiltedly. “It was bad enough that she was out running around with a bunch of kids I don’t really know, but it was really unlike her to be an hour later getting home than she agreed to.”
“I know. She gave everyone a scare.”
“I hope she won’t do anything like that again.”
He gave a little shrug. “I hope not, too, but I’m sure she’ll misbehave at least a few more times before she’s grown. Most teenagers do, even the best ones.”
“Unfortunately, you’re probably right.” Jacqui shifted in the bed, pulling the sheet a little higher.
He supposed she was self-conscious at lying in the bed in her nightshirt with him sitting fully dressed gazing down at her. He really should let her go back to sleep—but he had to admit he was reluctant to leave. What he really wanted to do was crawl beneath that sheet with her, no longer fully dressed.
Instead, he asked a question he suspected she wouldn’t really want him to ask. “Was a teen driver behind the wheel when your sister died?”
She went very still and, though it was difficult to be certain in the dim room, he thought he saw her pale in response to the clearly unexpected question. “Yes,” she said after a taut pause.
“That’s why you worry so much about Alice riding with teenagers.”
“I would worry about that regardless.”
“So would I. But I wondered if that was what triggered your nightmare. Were you dreaming about your sister?”
He wasn’t sure she was going to answer. Finally, she turned her face away from him and murmured, “Alice and Olivia were both in my dream. It was bad.”
Mitch reached out to stroke a damp strand of hair from her face. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how much it must still hurt you.”
She looked up at him then with her chin lifted. He guessed that Jacqui didn’t like to be seen looking so vulnerable. “It was just a nightmare, Mitch. I don’t have them often. I’ll be fine. Go get some sleep.”
He nodded, then made himself stand. “All right. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern,” she said, her too-formal tone making him smile.
He paused in the doorway to glance back toward the bed. “Jacqui? Just so you’ll know, I’m not entirely noble. I was very tempted to climb into that bed with you.”
“I was very tempted to ask you to,” she replied after only a momentary pause.
He groaned. “Thanks for sharing that. Now I won’t sleep tonight, either.”
He thought he heard her laugh softly when he closed her door behind him. At least he’d left her smiling, he thought as he crossed the hall to his own lonely, borrowed bed. For a moment anyway. He would bet her smile had faded the moment he’d left her alone in the dark.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he tossed it onto a chair and reached for his belt buckle. He found it difficult to smile now. He kept hearing the echo of that soft, sad sound Jacqui had made in her tormented sleep.
It wasn’t too much of a stretch to guess that Jacqui had been the teenage driver when her sister had died. And it killed him to think she was still carrying the guilt from that long-ago accident. Maybe it was the physician in him that wanted to do something to alleviate her pain—or maybe he was beginning to care too much about her. The problem was, he could repair a broken bone—but a broken heart was beyond his skills.
Although Jacq
ui slept only half an hour later than she usually arose, Mitch was gone by the time she woke, showered and dressed the next morning. She had to admit she was relieved. She wondered if he had deliberately slipped out before she got up to avoid any potential awkwardness from the night before.
It had definitely been a eventful evening, she thought, busying herself with housework in a futile attempt to keep herself from replaying every minute of last night. Heated, arousing kisses on the couch. The disturbing call from Alice’s grandmother. The nightmare—still much too clear in her mind. Then waking to find Mitch sitting on her bed, his touch so gentle on her face that she’d had to forcibly stop herself from burrowing straight into his arms.
She wasn’t accustomed to having anyone there when she woke after a bad dream. As much as she told herself she wasn’t a child and didn’t need to be comforted after a nightmare, it had still been nice to have someone stroke her and speak to her soothingly until the horrifying images faded. She could get used to that—which was an unsettling thought.
Maybe it was because of that dream in which she had lost both Olivia and Alice in the devastating car accident, but she couldn’t be too angry with the girl when she returned home, chastened and wary. Her grandparents dropped her off. Jacqui invited them in for coffee, but they were in a hurry to return home. Jacqui noted that the couple parted affectionately with Alice, who saw them off with a murmured promise that she would never cause them worry again. Apparently, she’d gotten a good talking to from her grandparents—only a hint of what would come from her father, Jacqui thought with a twinge of sympathy.
“I’m not going to fuss at you anymore,” she said after Alice had sullenly apologized to her again. “It’s up to your dad to take it from here. All I’m going to say is that when you’re left in my charge, you’re going to have to follow my rules. You knew I wouldn’t approve of you riding in a car with Milo, but you implied to your grandparents that Milo is a trusted friend of the family. That was both dishonest and dangerous, Alice.”
“I know I should have been back when I said,” Alice conceded, looking close to tears. “And I guess I shouldn’t have been in the car with Milo. He drove sort of fast. I think he was showing off. I told him to slow down, but he just laughed. You won’t tell Dad that part, will you?”
“I’m sure he was showing off in front of you girls.” Jacqui swallowed hard at the thought of what could have happened with that boy driving recklessly with three young girls in his car. “I hope you at least wore your seat belt.”
“Of course I wore my seat belt. I always do.” Alice sounded ironically indignant that Jacqui would even suggest differently.
“As for telling your Dad, I think you should decide what to tell him when you talk with him about last night. But I would advise you to be honest and penitent about breaking his rules.”
Alice sighed gustily. “All the other girls my age are allowed to go out.”
“You’re telling me Tiff’s mother would let her go riding around with an almost-eighteen-year-old boy?”
Alice grimaced, as aware as Jacqui that her friend Tiffany’s mother was every bit as firm and protective as Seth. “No, I guess not.”
“You know not.”
Alice merely sighed again.
“Why don’t you go out and play with Waldo? He’s missed you.”
Alice escaped eagerly. Jacqui figured the girl was looking forward to spending time with her dog, who thought everything she did was perfectly delightful.
Later that afternoon, Jacqui debated awhile before knocking on Alice’s bedroom door. Alice had been in there for more than an hour, having said she wanted to play on her computer and maybe read a little. Jacqui suspected Alice was still sulking, embarrassed by the fuss she had caused. Alice was also worried about what her father was going to say when he heard about the incident.
After being invited into the room, Jacqui opened the door and stepped inside. The teen lay sprawled on her bed on top of the comforter, an open book in front of her.
Jacqui crossed the room to perch on one corner of the bed. “How’s the book?”
“Pretty good. It’s the third in a series.”
“That series about the rescue dogs?”
“Yeah. Guess I told you about them already.”
“You mentioned them.”
Closing the book, Alice sat up, her legs crossed in front of her. “What’s that you’re holding?”
“It’s an old picture. I thought you might like to see it.”
Alice waited a moment. When Jacqui didn’t immediately hand her the photo, she prodded, “You were going to show me the picture?”
Taking a deep breath, Jacqui handed Alice the faded, creased photo. In it, two little girls, ages eight and ten, sat side by side on a concrete step eating ice cream cones. The older had dark hair rumpled in spikes around her solemn face, whereas the younger girl’s hair was lighter, wavier, her expression blissful as she enjoyed the melting treat.
Frowning in concentration, Alice pointed to the older girl. “This is you, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I guess I haven’t changed much.”
“You were very cute.”
Jacqui smiled a little. “Thanks.”
“Who’s the other girl?”
The smile faded. “My sister. Olivia.”
Alice’s eyes went wide. “You never told me you have a sister.”
“Had,” Jacqui corrected gently. “I had a sister.”
Alice bit her lip before asking, “She died?”
“Yes. From injuries she sustained in a car accident when she was only a little older than you are now. It will be twelve years ago next week.”
Blinking rapidly, Alice looked down at the photograph again. “I’m sorry. She looks nice.”
“She was.”
“You must really miss her, huh?”
Jacqui took the photograph again, glancing down at it before replying, “Yes. I do.”
“Is that why you freaked out that I was in a car with Milo?”
“Partly. I’ve seen the results of an inexperienced driver being distracted by passengers. I want you to stay safe, Alice. I want you to grow up to finish high school and go to prom and college and become an orthodontist or whatever you eventually decide to be. All the things Olivia never got to do. I’m not saying you should be covered in bubble wrap and never allowed to leave the house—tempting as that might be for your dad and for me—but I do think you should take reasonable precautions. Look both ways before you cross the street. Don’t stand outside in a lightning storm. Wear a helmet when you ride your bike. And don’t ride in a car with a reckless teenage boy who’s showing off for a group of younger girls.”
“Was Olivia riding in a car with a reckless teenage boy?” Alice asked, subdued.
“No.” Folding her hand around the treasured photograph, Jacqui stood. “Just a driver who was too young to react quickly enough in a dangerous situation. I want you to understand why your family and I are so concerned about the ground rules they’ve developed for you, Alice. Your dad will probably chew you out when he gets here, but it’s only because he wants you to stay safe. You’ll get a little more freedom with each passing year, but I expect you’ll have to demonstrate first that you’re ready to take each new step.”
“By not breaking the rules, you mean?”
Jacqui smiled. “That’s definitely a good start.”
She reached out to stroke a hand over Alice’s soft, curly hair. “Don’t dread your dad getting home, Alice. He’ll fuss, but he’ll be very happy to see you, too. He loves you very much. You know he can never stay mad at you for long.”
“Thanks, Jacqui. And I’m sorry about your sister. Will you tell me about her sometime?”
“Sometime,” Jacqui promised. “Not today.”
“Okay.” She set the book aside. “Maybe I’ll go swim for a while. Do you want to swim with me?”
“I’ll sit outside with you while you swim. I’d like to get some knitting time in before
making dinner.”
Leaving the girl to change, she walked to her own room to put away her photograph. She wasn’t sure why she’d brought it out today. Maybe she was simply ready to talk about Olivia again. And maybe Mitch had something to do with that.
She and Mitch had shared a house for less than two weeks and already she felt as though some things in her world had shifted. She had been so content before—or so she’d convinced herself. She hated to think her life would be in any way less satisfying when this atypical interlude came to an inevitable end.
Chapter Nine
Seth and Meagan returned Thursday afternoon in a flurry of baggage and gifts and hugs. Alice threw herself happily into her father’s loving arms, then gave her stepmother an equally fervent welcome-home hug. It had been only a couple of weeks since they’d all seen each other, and Jacqui was sure Seth and Meagan had enjoyed their rare time together, but they were obviously happy to be back home again.
Keeping one arm around his daughter’s shoulders, Seth greeted Jacqui. “Well?” he teased. “You aren’t holding a resignation letter behind your back, are you?”
She smiled. “No. We’ve gotten by just fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Seth had heard a little about his daughter’s mini-rebellion over the phone—but not from Jacqui, who had left that task to Alice and her grandparents. He gave his daughter a look that promised a talk later, then hugged her again before releasing her.
Meagan smiled at Jacqui. “To add to your chores while we were gone, I hear you’ve also been taking care of my homeless brother. You certainly had your hands full, didn’t you?”
Jacqui forced a smile. She’d hardly seen Mitch since he’d left her bedroom after her nightmare two nights earlier. He’d been busy at work—or maybe busy avoiding her once Alice was there to observe them. He hadn’t talked to Alice about the incident at her grandparents’ house, probably figuring there were enough adults on the girl’s case about that, but instead had teased his niece just like always during the brief times they were both home. His manner toward Jacqui had been friendly, casual, deliberately proper in front of the girl. But the expression in his eyes when their glances had occasionally collided had let her know he hadn’t forgotten one moment of the time they had spent alone together.
