“Pete Lombard’s doing the best he can,” she continued, “but it’s such a difficult time. I’ve never seen a family that needed more help, even though men like Pete can’t fathom there being anything they can’t do for themselves.”
Mallory chanced a glance to the corner to find Polly still teary eyed and glaring silently toward the other woman. Mallory could relate. Well-meaning people had reacted the same way to her back in the day, through a parade of cramped, colorless shelters. They’d talked about her and her mother, they’d talked around them as if she couldn’t hear or understand just how tragic everyone thought her life was.
It hadn’t taken Mallory long to realize the difference between what people pandered to her face and the things they whispered to one another. Once she had, she’d never again trusted adults’ smiles and assurances that they were her friends. They’d been lying when they talked about things getting better. And the worst part had been how much they’d needed her to drink down the BS they were spouting, so they could feel better themselves.
It was exactly the kind of crap she’d made it a point as an adult never to dish out to children. It was precisely why even now she took whatever people said with a grain of salt.
Mallory saw the same kind of cynicism shimmering in the eyes of the little girl huddled in the corner, as distant from everyone else as Polly could get. Mallory was fine with her staying out of the way of the sick kids and the volunteers who were regularly checking temperatures and offering patients watered-down fruit juice. She wasn’t fine with anyone putting pressure on the kid to do or feel or be anything she wasn’t ready to be. Especially not after what Polly had said to her in the bus lane.
I want to forget my mommy, so I can stop making everyone so sad…
“Mr. Lombard is fighting to make a new start for his family,” Mallory said loudly enough to reach Polly.
Last night her confidence in the man’s determination to help his daughter had grown exponentially. If Mimosa Lane’s resident expert on everything wanted to gossip about the Lombard family, let her natter on about that.
“The man clearly needs help.” Julia bent to pull a blanket up over one of the sleeping kids, patting the little boy’s back and smiling a motherly smile that softened a bit of Mallory’s impatience. “There are so many families from the neighborhood who’ve tried to be there for them both, but he won’t hear of it. He’s always been so quiet and controlled. Friendly, but in a standoffish way. Emma was the social butterfly who made sure they kept in the flow of everything and that Polly had all the wonderful things a community like ours can give a child. That’s up to her daddy now, and the man seems more resistant by the day to any efforts to give him a hand. They’re doing fine, he keeps saying. He’s doing just fine.”
“They’re grieving.” Mallory looked pointedly at Polly, a less-than-subtle hint that Julia should at least lower her voice. “He’s protecting his child from even more upset.”
“They’re drowning before our eyes.” The well-meaning woman’s exasperation made her sound like an insufferable ass. “No one’s trying to upset either of them. You just moved in, so it might not be as clear to you—”
“Half of them is listening to every word you say about her father.” The hell with being subtle. “What’s clear is that it’s not a good idea to—”
“Ms. Phillips?” Tiny fingers wrapped around the fist Mallory had clenched at her side. Polly was standing beside them, tears streaming down her face. “I want to go home.”
Julia knelt down before Mallory found her voice. She gazed into Polly’s bottomless eyes, her heavily made-up face softening with pity, making Mallory cringe.
“How are you feeling, sweetie? Are you having a bad day?” Julia smiled, her voice pitched in that patronizing timber that well-mannered kids in the South were trained from birth to endure even though it made you want to hurl.
Polly shied away from Mimosa Lane’s self-appointed matriarch. Her nails dug into Mallory’s hand.
“She—” Mallory tried to say.
“Misses her daddy?” Julia reached to cup Polly’s face, which Polly promptly hid as she shrank against Mallory’s side. “He works a lot, doesn’t he, honey? Being a single parent is so hard these days. Why don’t I take you home and get you some lunch? I’ve got the rest of the day off since my office hours are over. I’m sure Ms. Phillips can manage better without us here distracting her. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream on the way and have a nice talk outside in the pretty sunshine…”
Polly shook her head, her silent tears wetting Mallory’s scrubs. She was clinging like a monkey, her arms wrapped around Mallory’s waist when she’d never before that morning so much as held Mallory’s hand.
Polly’s struggles felt so close, so mixed up in the avalanche of personal memories pressing down on Mallory, it made her want to push the little girl away and pretend she wasn’t walking the same fine line. But Mallory wasn’t budging, not now. Not like this. She waited until Julia’s gaze rose from where the woman still knelt in front of Polly.
“The school has nothing in their records designating you as an alternative guardian to pick Polly up,” Mallory pointed out.
“I’ve known the Lombards since they moved into the neighborhood.” Julia rose to her full height. A smattering of annoyance peppered her tolerant expression. She reached a reassuring hand toward Mallory as if they were fast friends themselves and by simple touch could unite their conflicting viewpoints. When Mallory shied away just like Polly, Julia said, “Emma and I were close long before Polly was born. We walked together every afternoon at sundown, even after she got sick. I’m sure she’d approve of me—”
“Her husband’s approval is the one the school has to be concerned with.” Mallory could have kicked her neighbor for being so completely oblivious to how her words and actions were hurting the very child they were supposed to be helping.
“Pete’s not ready to make those kinds of decisions,” Julia argued, “or he wouldn’t have let things become so precarious with Polly while he pushed everyone else away.”
“He’s dealing with circumstances I’m sure none of us can fathom. He’s taking care of his daughter the best he can.”
“And he’s failing, because he thinks he has to do it on his own. All the more reason for the community to come together to help him. It’s time to move on, to start over, and he’s not—”
“My daddy doesn’t need anyone’s damn help!” Polly shrieked, confirming Mallory’s suspicions that she’d been eavesdropping last night when Pete had yelled the exact same thing near the kitchen door. Polly glared up at Julia, her tears making her little girl rage all the more magnificent. “Why can’t you all just leave us alone? You’re so stupid. You don’t know anything! We don’t want your help. Why don’t you just leave us alone?”
“Sweetheart.” Julia knelt again. “Your mommy and I—”
“My mommy hated you! I hate you. All of you…” Polly was a ball of motion and energy, hurtling toward her neighbor, pushing Julia away as she screamed, “Why won’t you go ’way and stop butting in and making everything worse, talking about me and my daddy and my mommy? I hate you. HATE you. HATE YOU!”
Julia stumbled backward, at a loss for words about five minutes too late.
Mallory grabbed for Polly, the bustling activity of the other adults around them coming to an abrupt, silent halt as if someone had hit a mute button. She picked up the child. Polly continued to scream and kick and struggle, all the while clinging to Mallory, making a scene everyone on the first floor of the school could no doubt hear.
“Oh dear.” Julia covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Mallory just bet she was.
She could have told Julia that Polly’s outburst had likely been inevitable given the emotions that had been building inside her since last night—since her mother’s death. But the other woman and her idea of what community should look like were finally backing off, so Mallory ignored her and rocked the wail
ing child in her arms, wishing she could join Polly and vent a little herself.
Her phone rang before she could figure out what to say to the adults staring at the two of them. She pressed the intercom to answer the call hands-free.
“Chandler Elementary Clinic,” she barked.
“This is Pete Lombard.” Polly’s sobs and her nonstop I hate yours raged on. “Is that my daughter? What the hell’s happened?”
Mallory sat in her chair, settled Polly into her lap as best she could, and picked up the receiver.
“Can you stop by the school, Pe—Mr. Lombard?” He wasn’t Pete. Not while she was at work. “Polly’s okay, but she’s had a bit of an episode. The clinic is slammed with sick kids today, and we’re pretty sure it’s the flu. The sooner you could get here, the better.”
“We’re about to transport a patient. It’ll probably be another hour before I can break away.”
The strain in his voice was heartbreaking. He’d missed a lot of work picking Polly up early from school, several afternoons a week at least when she was having a particularly hard time. And Kristen had said he’d formally requested since his wife’s death not to work night shifts, which must be causing waves with his coworkers. Yet he’d always come for Polly as soon as he possibly could.
Mallory wanted to tell Julia just that. And about how lost he’d sounded last night as he’d grudgingly accepted Mallory’s help, this man who clearly didn’t know how to fail. Yes, he might be misguided about a lot of things, but he was fighting with all of his might to save his child. He didn’t need the community Julia Davis seemed to think was a cure-all judging his every move.
She glanced at Julia while he said, “If I weren’t already on-scene, I’d come right now. But—”
“We really can’t wait this time.” Mallory wished she could take their conversation somewhere private or do something more herself. “I’ve never seen her so agitated.”
“Da…Daddy?” Polly’s body shuddered with a stream of hiccupping breaths that were just as disturbing as her uncharacteristic shouts had been. “Daddy…” She began coughing on her own tears, her crying escalating again.
“Shit…” Pete whispered into the phone.
The sirens of one of the rescue vehicles working the emergency scene shrieked over the connection. The man was protecting and caring for the citizens of Chandlerville. Meanwhile being the single parent of a traumatized child was ripping his private life to pieces.
Julia was right about one thing. He absolutely couldn’t keep doing this alone, not if he really wanted to give Polly the support she needed. And he’d listened to reason last night, back when
Mallory had thought she was done inflicting her own warped perspective on his decisions for his daughter. Getting more involved would mean challenging all their comfort zones even further. But could she really walk away from what might happen to the little girl in her arms if she refused to try?
Her gaze locked with Julia’s. The reality behind the other woman’s nosiness united them in a startling moment of clarity. The Lombard family was falling apart. They needed whatever help they could get. And right now Mallory was the only person Polly seemed to trust.
“I’ll take her home with me for the afternoon,” she heard herself decide out loud.
Polly needed someplace quiet and nonthreatening where she could process the emotion swamping her and talk through the truth behind her outburst. That was the only priority now. Kristen Hemmings would eventually agree, after the AP flipped at the prospect of losing her nurse in the midst of a medical crisis. Julia’s silent nod of approval bolstered Mallory’s confidence as she rode out Pete’s prolonged silence.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he finally said. “It sounds like you’re having a busy day, and—”
“I have more than enough volunteers to take temperatures and wipe noses and call parents to come pick up their kids. I’ll let the assistant principal know that I’ll be back as soon as I can. She’ll agree that the most important thing is for Polly to have familiar surroundings now that she’s letting some of her emotions out. I know she sounds bad, and I do think you should hurry as quickly as you can. But this could be a really positive thing once you get home and talk with her. Let me help make sure she’s ready for that, okay?”
Mallory’s chest tightened at the feel of Polly’s body softening against hers. The child’s outburst was quieting. The others in the clinic, including the kids who’d sat up from their mats to see what was going on, were once again ignoring the mini-drama playing out in their midst. It might be a good time to try resettling Polly in her own chair, but Mallory couldn’t imagine letting the little girl go.
The rest of the school day would be a circus for the staff. But Kristen had excellent procedures in her files for dealing with sickness and dispensing whatever meds a child was allowed to take. Teachers as well as administrators were approved to follow the same steps Mallory would. And this was an emergency—a chance to make a very real difference in one of their students’ lives.
Polly curled into a tighter ball in Mallory’s arms.
“Trust me,” Mallory said to the child’s father, feeling more than a little panicky at the thought of him refusing.
“I do trust you,” Pete said.
“Get to my place as soon as you can, then. We’ll be waiting for you.”
She hung up, suddenly terrified.
What was she doing?
“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” she told her neighbor. Before she could talk herself out of it she stood and grabbed her tote from the drawer and headed for the door, lugging Polly’s limp weight with her the way she’d clearly have to all the way to the office to sign out and let her boss know she was bailing on at least the rest of the morning.
She turned back, her former supervisor’s warning echoing through her mind.
If you don’t stop overidentifying with your cases, you’re going to eventually wreck more than your career…
“Don’t worry about a thing.” Julia winked and picked up the clipboard Mallory had been using to track kids’ temperatures and parents’ estimates on when they’d arrive for their children. “Take care of that precious bundle in your arms. We’ll be fine here. I’ll make sure Ms. Hemmings understands that. We go way back. Don’t worry about taking the whole afternoon off if you need to. I can stay as long as Kristen needs me.”
Mallory hesitated at the whiff of genuine inclusion in the other woman’s reassurance.
“Thank you,” Mallory mumbled, walking away.
It was irritating, confusing, how she was even more agitated than she’d been when she’d woken up that morning. In the space of less than a day her simple if floundering new beginning had expanded to make room for a traumatized little girl, a harried single father, and a meddlesome neighbor who was now a coconspirator in Mallory’s entrenching herself even deeper in the Lombards’ problems.
Let me help you…
What on earth had she gotten herself into?
Mallory’s door opened, startling Pete with how quickly she’d responded to him ringing the bell.
“Polly’s settled,” she said, sounding relieved. “She’s much calmer.”
She was dressed in yellow scrubs with cartoon birds all over them. He felt himself smile. Some of the tension that had hounded him all the way home eased. The same thing had happened last night once he’d calmed down enough to see how concerned she was for his child. Speaking with Mallory, letting the truth in her words soak in when he’d resisted advice from so many other people, had been the first nonthreatening experience he could remember since hearing his wife’s terminal diagnosis.
The fact that Mallory looked just as cute in her boxy work clothes as she had in her clingy pajamas had the same effect as last night, too. She was evidently just the distracting enigma his body needed after all these months to decide it wanted to feel close to a woman again.
“Is it a nurse thing?” he had to ask.
“Excus
e me?”
“The make-believe theme. The animated characters and the rainbow-bright colors all over the place, even at home. You’re as addicted to them as Polly.”
“A girl needs something to make her smile now and then.” The curve of her lips was one shade shy of saucy, but the careless laugh she gave him didn’t make it all the way to her eyes.
“I’m sorry we’re being so much trouble.” He found himself wishing he’d made the time to get to know her better, so every conversation they’d had wouldn’t have been about Polly.
“It’s no trouble, really,” she lied.
He’d sensed her hesitation over the phone. He’d expected her to relent as soon as he’d said he didn’t expect her to inconvenience herself. Instead, she’d offered to take his child home.
“Polly’s in the kitchen.” She stepped sideways to allow him entry. “She’s eating a tuna fish sandwich.” Her smile turned impish. “I was thinking about Pixy Stix and Pop-Tarts. But you’ve had a busy morning saving the masses, so I cut your nerves some slack.”
Polly was eating honest-to-God protein? “Any chance this visit isn’t going to end with you raking me over the coals again?”
“I’m not that charitable.”
“Is it just me you enjoy giving hell to, or is this another charming facet of your disposition that you insist defies understanding?”
“Don’t take it personally.” This time her laugh sounded more like an apology. “I’m a smart-ass with most everyone.”
“You’re…” It came to him from out of nowhere—exactly what he needed to say in case this was her last grand gesture before backing away from his family for good. He couldn’t let that happen without clearing the air. “You’re really something, to be taking such a personal interest in Polly. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
Mallory swallowed whatever quip she’d been about to say next. “Did you realize she was still so upset this morning?”
He stepped into her house, their bodies brushing. It wasn’t much. It was nothing at all. But the instant connection was disturbing, at least to him, memorable in a way that he knew would be haunting him later that night while he stared across their backyards at her ridiculous tree the way he had until dawn that morning.
Christmas on Mimosa Lane (A Seasons of the Heart Novel) Page 7
