A Family to Cherish

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Your mama’s right.” Heather gave a firm nod as she measured, gaze down, intent on doing it once, doing it right. Meredith loved that about her.

  Jacqui’s face softened, just enough for Meredith to think there might be a nice person hiding within. But then she opened her mouth and Meredith realized it had been a trick of the light.

  “Tell me that after you’ve gone through twenty-eight hours of hard labor. You’ll be talking a different tune then, I expect.”

  Meredith stopped the train wreck of conversation by drawing Lisa toward the two shampoo sinks. “Come here, let me pamper you. When is this baby due?”

  Lisa’s look of gratitude empowered Meredith. “Six weeks.”

  “Oh, how lovely.”

  “Do you have kids, Mere?”

  Meredith shook her head as she draped a cape around Lisa’s shoulders, then waggled her fingers. “Single. Never married.”

  “The right guy hasn’t come along, or career-driven?” Lisa arched a well-defined left brow as she settled back in the chair, her baby bump making her profile distinctive. And sweet.

  “A little of both, I think.” Meredith turned on the water, tested for temperature, then slowly wet Lisa’s hair, watching the young mother’s features relax as the warm stream bathed her head. “How about you? Who won your heart?”

  Lisa’s expression shifted slightly. “Joe Jackson.”

  “Really?” Meredith leaned down, surprised and delighted. “Oh, how cute will this baby be? With Joe’s deeper skin tone and your hair, we’ve got a potential supermodel on our hands. Joe Jackson is a total hottie, Lisa.”

  Lisa’s laugh erased the momentary shadow. “And he’s the sweetest man on the planet. I couldn’t ask for a better husband.”

  Meredith ignored the audible sniff that came from Jacqui’s direction. Racially mixed marriages were common in the power belts of D.C., but here in northern Appalachia?

  A little scarcer.

  “What does Joe do?”

  “He’s a doctor. He joined the family practice run by old Doc Hayward, and he loves it.”

  “Good for him.” Meredith finished conditioning Lisa’s hair, then rinsed and toweled it gently. “And do we know if this is a boy or a girl?”

  “A girl. Ava Marie.”

  “Love it!” Meredith gave Lisa a hand up. “That’s the kind of name that grows with a child. Beautiful. Strong. Musical.”

  “Joe’s mother’s favorite hymn was ‘Ave Maria.’” Lisa settled into the cutting chair with a small oomph, then rolled her eyes. “At least I still fit in the chair.”

  “Plenty of room,” Meredith declared. She adjusted the chair setting and fingered Lisa’s hair, assessing. “Did Joe’s mother pass away?”

  “Last year.” Lisa shrugged, but her eyes said she missed the older woman. “She was a nurse, so she understood what we had to go through to get pregnant, and she was so supportive. So kind. So excited to be a grandmother.”

  “I’m sorry.” Meredith met Lisa’s gaze in the mirror and realized how blessed she was to still have her mother. Dana Brennan had stuck by her daughter through thick and thin, a strong, quiet woman of faith and fortitude. Would she be as supportive if she knew Meredith’s past? Her foolish mistakes? Her prideful attitude that had pushed faith and morals aside?

  Meredith didn’t want to find out. Leaving the past buried worked best all around. She was back, she was invested, she was fine. Just fine.

  “Well, I’ve got the distinct feeling that Jenny Jackson is watching us from above. Praying for us. Taking care of those babies that didn’t make it this far.”

  Meredith’s heart melted more. Lisa had clearly met adversity, but she hadn’t quit. She’d forged ahead to make her dream of motherhood come true. “I will be praying for you and Joe. For this baby. How nice to be this beloved. Cherished. Wanted.”

  Lisa’s eyes met hers in the silvered glass. Her gaze said she understood what Meredith didn’t say, that she’d longed for a father who would love her. Care for her. Put her first, the way a father should.

  It hadn’t happened, but that was Neal Brennan’s fault, Meredith realized. Not hers.

  Cam loved his children that way. She saw it in his every action, weighing how his choices might affect his girls.

  And she saw the same thing in Lisa’s gaze, heard it in her voice. Children were gifts from God, a blessing, one and all. Recognizing that reaffirmed her decision to slip quietly away from Jude Anne’s threats in Maryland. Dragging Sylvia Bellwater’s children through the mud wasn’t going to happen. Not on Meredith’s watch, anyway. Keeping her tone light, she fingered Lisa’s hair. “Short? Layered? Spiky? Pink?”

  Lisa burst out laughing. “Layered. Easy. I want to be able to shower and let it dry while I take care of this baby. No fuss, no muss.”

  “You got it.” Meredith lifted Lisa’s hair, decided that spunky would suit her old classmate’s elfin features, and got to work, chatting easily, catching up on fourteen years of news. And aside from the occasional clipped interjections from Jacqui Crosby’s side of the room, it felt good.

  * * *

  “You’re working for Heather?”

  Cam didn’t mean the words to come out so brusque and abrupt, but he’d been stewing on this for nearly three hours, questioning his estimate, wondering if he should have lowered the costs to spare Meredith some cash. His price was fair. He knew that.

  But the idea that she was working in Heather’s shop, then coming here and stripping old wallpaper, painting moldings, climbing ladders, sanding wall patch, well…

  That seemed a little much, and he’d promised himself to never take a woman’s efforts for granted again. And even though Meredith’s presence was strictly business, a man’s God-given responsibility was to look after women like Christ loved the church.

  He’d failed miserably before.

  He was smarter now.

  One glance into her questioning and possibly insulted eyes said he might be off-target. So maybe not smarter.

  Great.

  “I’m working with Heather, yes. It makes sense to establish a client base, to get to know people again. And Heather’s always been easy to work with.”

  “So you’re trying to steal her customers?” Cam stared straight at her, trying to make sense of this and failing. “How is that a good thing?”

  Meredith shifted her gaze away, but not before he recognized the shadow of hurt he’d put there. “I don’t steal, Cam. Heather’s thinking about coming into business with me here. In fact she’ll be here soon to help paint this trim.”

  “A partner?”

  Meredith nodded, but didn’t look up, probably thinking he was the biggest jerk in the world for drawing quick assumptions. “Yes. I’ve got the financial backing from Grandpa’s estate and Grandma’s loan. Heather’s got the client base. Working together makes a whole lot more sense than putting a friend out of business, right?”

  “Most people don’t take fourteen-year breaks from friendship and come back expecting everything to be as it was.”

  “Am I doing that?” She raised her gaze to his and the look in her eyes made him feel like a louse. “I hope not. I’m just trying to start over. There’s no law against that, Cam.”

  There wasn’t. But he wasn’t about to forget how quickly she’d taken off the last time, without even a backward glance.

  Nope, Meredith was good at looking out for Meredith. He’d found that out a long time ago. But they’d both moved on. And then come back, full circle.

  Scary thought. And the fact that she looked real good in paint-speckled sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt meant that she just plain looked good. Why was he noticing that?

  She flashed him a look of question. “Are the girls at soccer practice?”

  He nodded, glad for the change
of topic. “Yes. They’ll get dropped off here around eight.”

  “Have they had supper yet?”

  He tried to read censure in the question, but couldn’t. He shook his head. “We eat late on soccer nights. Hard to run around on a full stomach.”

  “Pizza good?”

  Cam frowned. “Pizza’s always good, but…”

  “I was just thinking that Heather will be here, Rory’s coming after her Irish dancing lesson, and if you and the girls are here, it makes sense to grab something, right? Because it’s late by then.”

  “I can give them mac and cheese at home. Or sandwiches. We’re used to this.”

  “Okay.”

  He was glad she gave up easily. Bad enough he was depending on friends and other team parents to run his girls around, but to be spoon-fed supper?

  Not about to happen.

  He headed to the first floor, and waved to Heather when she came in a short time later. Meredith wanted six bays tucked into the L-shaped corner.

  Did she really think they’d have six customers at once? Wouldn’t it be smarter to start with three or four and add as business grew?

  But she’d been firm, so six it was.

  And then a coloring station, centered, with the hair-washing sinks. Like they couldn’t do that in the regular barber’s chairs?

  Not in a spa, she’d told him.

  He measured, assessed, marked and drew a rough sketch, then went to his computer, opened his computer-aided design program and let the software do the work it would have taken days to complete fourteen years ago.

  Sweet.

  “That’s amazing.”

  Meredith’s voice spiked neck hairs he’d forgotten he had. Or was it the soft feather of her breath against his collar, his skin? He pulled left, then turned his head.

  Big mistake. Huge. Her soft skin had a peppering of sawdust on her left cheek, just enough to make him reach up. Brush it away.

  She turned into the touch and that one little move brought back a host of memories. Good times. Sweet times. Teenage romance.

  But thirtysomethings weren’t allowed to wallow in emotion. They were grown-ups, with jobs to do. He stepped back, breathed easier, and nodded toward her cheek. “Sawdust.”

  She smiled.

  He felt his heart slip back in time, and this time it was harder to draw it up and out, but he managed. With concerted effort.

  “This program does the cabinetry work for you?”

  “The layout, cuts and design. I still get to run the saw.”

  Her smile of appreciation widened. “Computers only go so far. Still, it’s remarkable, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  She shifted her gaze to his and they both knew he wasn’t talking about the computer software anymore. Not when she was this close and smelled this good. Not when he’d just brushed dust from her face and longed to cradle that cheek in his hand. Feel her skin again. Hear her sigh.

  She stepped back first. “You and I will be working on separate floors during this project.”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her edict. “You’re right. Why take a chance on messing things up?”

  She bristled.

  He laughed.

  The girls stormed in, kicking off soccer cleats in the outside entry, and dumping their bags alongside. “Dad!”

  “Meredith!”

  It was funny, to hear them shout out to Mere the same way they did to him. And sweet.

  Not to mention downright frightening. No way was he about to let his girls fall in love with Meredith Brennan and her perfect-hair-and-nails manner. Although right now her hair was way less than perfect, her nails were chipped, and she looked…

  Wonderful.

  He swallowed hard, grabbed the girls in a hug, glanced at his watch and said, “Gotta go, girls. School tomorrow.”

  “Aw, Dad.”

  “Can’t we stay, just a little? Our homework’s done.”

  “Just fifteen minutes, Dad? Please?”

  He wanted to say no. He needed to say no. They had to get home, shower, eat and get to bed.

  So why did the word yes fall from his lips like it was meant to be there? Was it the little look of entreaty Meredith sent him? That sheen of hope in her eyes?

  She was getting to him. She knew it. He knew it. But they were adults and professionals. They could handle this. Right?

  “Girls.” She grabbed both their hands and tugged Sophie and Rachel toward the wide staircase. “Come see what I’m doing in your room.”

  “They don’t have a room,” Cam called after her, but he knew it was useless. Not one of them had the decency to afford him even an over-the-shoulder glance. They just barreled up the stairs like long-lost friends and disappeared in a flurry of footsteps and giggles.

  It felt kind of good, actually. But he couldn’t let it feel good, he couldn’t risk his girls’ hearts.

  Or his own, for that matter.

  But snatches of laughter floated down the stairs, and when a student of his showed up with a sheet pizza a few minutes later, Cam realized he’d been duped.

  No way could he get those girls out of here, past the good-smelling food, and not feed them. And since his own stomach was happy-dancing a jig of anticipation, he couldn’t blame them. “Mere? Pizza’s here.”

  “Perfect. We’ll be right there.”

  She slipped him a twenty when they came down the stairs. He started to protest, but she pushed the bill into his hand and held it there, which meant he had to pretend having her hold his hand wasn’t totally delightful. “Feel free to buy me/us supper sometime, but this was my idea. Did you tip the guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him, hooked a thumb toward the kitchen, and added, “Girls, plates and paper towels are back there. And I put a table back there this morning, so we can actually sit while we eat.”

  “Awesome!” The normally quiet Sophie beamed and that heartfelt smile made Cam realize two things: one, that Sophie should smile more. And two, she smiled more around Meredith.

  He was in big trouble.

  Heather and Rory joined them from the back staircase, a narrow affair that led straight into the kitchen. Heather grabbed a diet soda, handed one to Rory and waved one in his direction. “Soda?”

  He shook his head. “Water.”

  “Got it right here.” Meredith slid a tall glass of water his way, then handed cups to the girls. “And milk for you ladies.”

  “I like root beer.” Rachel piped the words in a hard-to-resist sweet voice.

  Meredith flashed her a grin. “Me, too, kid. But tonight it’s milk for strong teeth and bones. If you work hard all week, I might buy you a root beer milkshake at Meg Russo’s ice-cream stand this weekend.”

  “Meg Romesser,” Cam corrected.

  “Well, she’s about to deliver that baby, so it will most likely be Crystal or Jillian manning the ice-cream part of the business in any case,” Heather added. “And she looks adorable.”

  “Does she?” Meredith’s tone softened. Then the two women exchanged a look that meant nothing but trouble to unsuspecting men. Cam tipped his gaze down to the innocent-looking pair of girls he’d fathered.

  “They start off all right,” he drawled, then seized another piece of pizza with easy grace. “Little. Cute. Toothless. Kind of smelly.”

  “Hey!”

  “Dad!”

  He shot the girls a “gotcha” look of acknowledgment. “And then they turn into kids. Walking, talking, shoe-wearing, meat-eating kids.”

  Heather met his droll look and laughed as she nudged Rory’s arm. “And they keep growing. Needing things.”

  “Shoes.”

  “Coats.”

  “Boots.”
/>
  “School supplies.”

  “But we’re cute,” Rachel cut in, head tilted, looking like purity personified. “That’s gotta count for something, right, Dad?”

  “You’re all right.” His smile of approval said more and she preened under the light banter. Her actions made him realize that he didn’t tease and laugh with them as often as he could. He’d have to concentrate his efforts more. Relax a little. Breathe.

  But when bills mounted and time grew short, everything got set on automatic.

  “Well, I don’t know much, being an old spinster lady.” Meredith settled into a chair alongside Sophie and shoulder-butted her gently. “But I think having two delightful girls would be something to crow about. When they’re not fighting, that is.”

  Sophie sent her a guilty look.

  Rachel just grinned.

  Rory added, “That’s the good thing about being an only child. No one to fight with but Mom.”

  “Thank heavens we don’t do much of that,” Heather said. “It’s exhausting.”

  It was, Cam realized. When he had to bargain his way into and out of everything because the girls were so different, it tired him out. Made him feel wanting. A tiny light dawned, a hinted candle that said he didn’t have to be all things to all people. His mother. Sophie. Rachel. There might be some days they’d just have to, well…deal.

  “You know, kids are survivors.” Meredith made the claim with no look of remorse or pathos. “And if parents do their best, that’s all any kid can ask. Right?”

  Her statement made it sound easy.

  Raising kids alone was anything but.

  And yet, the little flame of awareness flickered brighter. Stronger. Maybe he wasn’t Dad of the Year, but he was pretty good. Right?

  “I don’t think God expects us to be perfect.” Heather eyed a second piece of pizza, then took a distinct step back and didn’t sigh. “But I do think he expects us to do the best we can with what we have. To inspire. To guide. To lead.”

  “With occasional trips to the woodshed,” Cam added.

  “Well, of course, that.”

  “Woodshed?” Sophie arched her delicate brows in question.

  “What’s that?” Rachel spoke around a ginormous bite.