Tides of Hope

by Irene Hannon

  “Is everything okay?”

  The quiet question from Craig told her he’d sensed her distress. She prayed Maddie hadn’t.

  “Maddie, honey, you finish your hot chocolate while the lieutenant helps me in the kitchen for a minute, okay?”

  “Okay.” She coughed and took another sip.

  With a slight inclination of her head, Kate motioned to Craig. His eyes narrowed, and without a word he rose and followed her. Once out of Maddie’s view, she turned to him. “I have a problem.”

  “I picked that up.”

  “Maddie has asthma, and I’m seeing warning signs of an approaching attack. I need to give her a nebulizer treatment and try to head it off.”

  She crossed the kitchen and opened the door of a lower cabinet, striving to remain calm, willing her hands to stop trembling. Wishing for once she could ask for help to get through this ordeal. Knowing she couldn’t. It was just she and Maddie against the world. The way it had always been.

  The way it would always be.

  As she withdrew the nebulizer from the cabinet, she spoke over her shoulder. “This isn’t a fun thing, Craig. You might want to head out before we get started. I’ll explain to Maddie that you had to leave. It’s okay.”

  And it was, Kate told herself. It had to be.

  Even if her heart said otherwise.

  Chapter Seven

  As Craig watched Kate pull a piece of equipment out of the cabinet, he could tell she was trying to stay calm. The rigid lines of her body, however, along with her white-knuckled grip on the machine she was placing on the counter and the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, betrayed her agitation. Yet he had no doubt she could handle this crisis alone, as she’d handled all the similar ones he assumed had come before.

  But he didn’t want her to have to manage this one by herself.

  “I’d like to stay and help.”

  At his words, she went still for several long seconds. At first he thought she was going to refuse. Instead, when she turned, he caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  She straightened her shoulders and went back to work. “The best way you can help is to try and keep Maddie calm. She knows these spur-of-the-moment treatments mean an attack is probably coming.” She frowned as she washed her hands and began setting up the equipment. “I wish I knew what triggered this. I’ve been so careful about keeping her out of the cold and wind. And she knows better than to go near cats.”

  A cold knot formed in Craig’s stomach and he froze. “What’s the problem with cats?”

  “She has a severe allergy to cat dander. And allergies are huge asthma triggers.”

  As the implications of Kate’s explanation sank in, Craig felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach.

  For one brief instant he couldn’t move. Then he went into action. Stripping off his sweater, he strode to the back door, opened it, and hurled the garment onto a sodden wooden bench a few feet away in the compact back yard.

  When he turned back, Kate had stopped measuring medicine into the nebulizer cup and was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m the cause of Maddie’s allergy attack.”

  Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You have a cat?”

  “No. But I was at my executive petty officer’s house last night for dinner, and they do. His kids kept wanting me to hold it, and I picked it up a few times to satisfy them. I was wearing that sweater.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward the back yard.

  Some of the color drained from her face, and she sped up her efforts to prepare the nebulizer, attaching the mask to a T-shaped elbow. “At least we’re catching it early.”

  By her methodical, rote actions, Craig knew she’d been through this routine countless times. Yet he hated being the cause of a repeat performance. More than that, he hated the underlying shakiness in her voice.

  “Let me grab the afghan. It was up against my sweater.” Without waiting for a response, he retrieved it from the living room. “Where do you want this?”

  “In the laundry basket. It’s in that closet.” She indicated a set of louvered doors at one end of the kitchen.

  Craig deposited the blanket in the lidded container and rejoined her. “Do you want to do the treatment in here?”

  “No. I usually sit on the couch and hold her. It helps keep her calm.”

  He moved to the sink and washed his hands, drying them on a paper towel. “Maybe I can distract her during the treatment. How long does it take?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “I finished my—” Maddie stopped in the doorway when she caught sight of the nebulizer. The rhythm of her breathing underwent an abrupt change, her deeper breaths giving way to shallow, quick puffs.

  Moving beside her, Craig dropped down to her level as she began to cough. Panic gripped her features, and he touched her cheek.

  “Hey, sugar and spice.” He winked at her and managed a smile. “Your mommy thinks it might be good for you to have a treatment. How about I tell you a story while you’re having it?”

  Her attention was riveted on the machine, and she didn’t respond to his question. Reaching out, he grasped her thin arms in a gentle grip. “Maddie?” He waited until she focused on him. “Would you like to hear a story during the treatment?”

  She gave a jerky nod. “Can I sit…on your l-lap?”

  “I think that would be okay.” He checked with Kate over his shoulder, and she dipped her head.

  “Mommy, where’s my…blanket?”

  “I’ll get it, honey. Craig, could you take her into the living room?”

  Sweeping Maddie into his arms, he strode toward the couch and settled her on his lap.

  Kate wasn’t far behind. Handing a small, faded pink blanket to Maddie, she adjusted the mask on her daughter’s face and turned on the compressor. “Okay, honey, now sit up straight and take long, slow, deep breaths through your mouth. That’s it. Good girl.”

  Once Kate was satisfied with Maddie’s inhalation, Craig launched into a tale about a rescue he’d participated in while stationed in Hawaii. It was one of his tamer stories, about saving a friendly Labrador, and he embellished it with as many colorful details as possible. Maddie clutched the blanket in one hand and clung to the sleeve of his dress shirt with the other, bunching the fabric in her fingers as she gave him her rapt attention. Kate knelt beside her, stroking her arm and murmuring encouragement.

  When the cup containing the medicine was empty, Kate shut off the machine and removed the mask from Maddie’s face. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She took her daughter’s hand and gently brushed back her hair.

  “No.” Maddie hiccupped and angled toward Craig, snuggling closer against his broad chest.

  “How about you take a little rest before dinner?”

  “But we have company.”

  “Not for long,” Craig told her. “I’m going home in a few minutes.”

  “Will you come in first, while Mommy tucks me in?”

  “If it’s okay with your mommy.”

  “That’s fine. Come on, honey.” Taking her daughter’s hand, Kate led her down the hall that opened off the great room.

  He trailed behind, past a bathroom on the right and a darkened room on the left as they headed toward the last door at the end of the hall. A Disney princess lamp on the bedside table bathed the small room in a warm glow, and as Craig stepped inside he had a quick impression of pink walls, a woodland-fairy border and white wicker furniture.

  As he juxtaposed this room against the one he’d prepared for Vicki, his stomach dropped to his toes. His daughter’s had no personality. No warmth. No…joy.

  It was a disaster.

  “Craig? Is everything okay?”

  Concern rippled through Kate’s voice, penetrating his panic. “I was just thinking about the room I prepared for V
icki. It’s…not good.”

  “Who’s Vicki?”

  “Vicki is the lieutenant’s little girl,” Kate explained to Maddie, aiming her next comment at Craig. “I hadn’t told her yet.”

  “You have a little girl?” Maddie asked, wide-eyed.

  “Sorry.” Craig directed his apology to Kate.

  She waved it aside. “It’s okay.” Refocusing on Maddie, she smiled. “It was going to be a surprise, honey. Vicki is the same age as you are. And Mrs. Shaw is going to watch her every day, too. So you’ll have a friend.”

  Maddie’s eyes lit up. “I always wanted a friend! When is she coming?”

  “On Monday.”

  “How come her room isn’t good?” Maddie addressed the question to Craig.

  “I’m afraid I didn’t know what little girls like. So it’s pretty plain.”

  “We know what little girls like. We can help you make it better. Can’t we, Mommy?”

  Craig hadn’t planned to initiate another encounter with Kate. It was too dangerous, in light of the electricity zipping between them. But considering the sad state of Vicki’s room, he figured he’d better take any help he could get—from any source. No matter the risk.

  “I know you’re busy, but to be honest, I could use some advice. I want Vicki to feel welcome and wanted. And first impressions mean a lot.”

  Kate’s eyes softened in compassion. “I think we could squeeze in a quick shopping trip. How about tomorrow night? We could meet you at your house and take a look at the room, then go from there.”

  Gratitude warmed his heart. “That would be great.”

  “We’ll make it real pretty,” Maddie promised, settling back on the pillows. “I’ll think of all kinds of good things for you to buy.”

  Chuckling, Kate tucked her in. “Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Mommy, where’s Raggedy Ann?”

  “I left her in my bedroom, honey. Remember, I was patching her arm? I’ll get her for you.”

  As Kate left the room, Maddie whispered to Craig. “You have to get lots of stuffed animals and dolls. And fairy-tale books. And sparkly barrettes. And a pretty bedspread with princesses and—”

  “Maddie.” Kate reentered the room and tucked the doll next to the little girl. “We’ll talk about all this later, while we eat dinner. You need to rest for a little while.” She rolled her eyes at Craig. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  “See you tomorrow, Lootenin.”

  “Good night, Maddie. You keep thinking of everything we should put on our list.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  With a grin, Craig stepped into the hall. As Kate lingered to turn off the bedside light and answer one more question from her daughter, he strolled down the narrow corridor toward the living room. She’d left the light on in her bedroom, he noted, slowing to scan it as he passed. It was a simple but cozy room, dominated by a brass bed covered with an intricately patterned quilt in shades of green. An antique dry sink with an oval mirror stood against one wall, and a carved wooden rocking chair with a seat cushion occupied the far corner.

  But it was the painting between a pair of windows that caught—and held—his attention.

  Kate stared back at him from the canvas, her lips tipped up in a Mona Lisa smile, her glorious red hair dancing in the wind as she stood on the deck of the Lucy Sue. Her hands were propped on her waist, the worn denim of her jeans outlining her shapely legs. She wore a cream-colored shirt, the cuffs of the long, full sleeves tight at her wrists. Backed by the white-capped cerulean sea and a cloudless blue sky, dominating the scene with a powerful presence, she again made him think of the Irish chieftain pirate Grace O’Malley.

  There was no question in Craig’s mind that this was the second Mac MacDonald painting Kate had kept.

  Mesmerized, he admired her ready-to-take-on-the-world stance. Was captivated by the fire and passion glinting in her eyes—and the hint of humor and tenderness in their depths. Felt the energy and vitality radiating from her proud, confident bearing. The painting captured every nuance of her personality. Her grit, determination and strength. Her vibrancy and enthusiasm. Her deeply emotional, sometimes volatile, temperament.

  This rendering depicted Kate in love. With the sea, with life—and with her husband.

  Craig didn’t know much about Mac MacDonald, other than his masterful ability to wield a paintbrush. But he did know they shared one attribute: an appreciation for the special woman who had joined him in the hallway.

  Sidling around him, Kate reached in and flipped off the light.

  “That’s quite a painting.” He wasn’t about to pretend he hadn’t noticed it.

  “It was Mac’s only portrait.” She moved down the hall, her back to him.

  “That’s a shame. He had remarkable talent.”

  She threw a brief, melancholy smile at him over her shoulder. “He claimed he only had one portrait in him.”

  That might be true, Craig conceded, surveying the panoramic scene over the fireplace as he followed Kate into the living room. Capturing people’s personality required a different talent than rendering a landscape. To do it well, you had to have a rapport with your subjects, know what made them tick, have intimate insights into their personalities. And you had to be able to translate all those things to canvas.

  Kate’s husband had accomplished that feat with her painting. But perhaps he would have been less successful with others. Perhaps love was the reason he’d done such a stellar job with Kate’s portrait. Every brushstroke, every nuance of color, every decision of angle and perspective reflected his esteem and love for the woman who stood a few feet away.

  “He may have been right,” Craig acknowledged. “It’s an amazing painting.”

  “It means a lot to me.” She blinked and shoved her hands into her pockets, continuing in a tone that was a little too bright. “Thanks for helping with the treatment.”

  “Will she be okay?”

  “For now. But the attack could escalate later. We may be in for a long night.”

  “Has she always had asthma?”

  “Yes, though it took a while for the doctors to settle on the diagnosis.”

  “And there’s no cure?”

  “No. We just do the best we can to control it with medication. I’m hoping she outgrows it. My mom had it as a child, and she was fine when she got older. Maddie’s pulmonologist in Boston is optimistic she’ll follow the same pattern.”

  Craig absorbed this latest piece of news. Kate traveled to Boston because of Maddie’s health issues. To see a pricey specialist, who no doubt ordered lots of expensive tests and prescribed costly medications.

  “No wonder you struggle to make ends meet.” He also now understood why she preferred a more flexible schedule rather than a full-time teaching position. It gave her the ability to be there for Maddie when the need arose. Even if it provided less in the way of financial security.

  She looked toward the fire, giving him a view of her pensive profile and the slender column of her neck. “You have to play the hand you’re dealt. It’s all about choices.”

  “Not everyone makes good ones.” He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “And Vicki suffered because I didn’t. I have a lot to make up for with her. And I don’t even know how to start.”

  She turned back to him, the firelight warming her skin, her voice soft. “Yes, you do. I’ve watched you with Maddie. You have a natural instinct with children. Maddie’s shy with most people, but she connected with you right away. Vicki will do the same, if you give her a chance. Just follow your heart and love her. That’s all it takes, Craig. Love is a powerful healer. It can work miracles.”

  Could it heal him, too? he wondered, taking in every nuance of Kate’s lovely, earnest face. Could the love of a woman like Kate fill the dark, empty places in his heart and his soul?

  “Do you really believe that?” His question came out gentle. Personal.

  She retreated a step and gripped the back o
f the chair beside her. “Are we still talking about Vicki?”

  Her direct question deserved a direct answer. “No.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Love among adults is more…complicated. And not always wise. But yes…in the right circumstances, I believe in its power to transform lives.” She swallowed and hugged herself tighter. “Just in case you’re…interested, Craig, you need to know that I’m not in the market for romance.”

  “Why not?”

  “I loved Mac with every fiber of my being. He became part of me. When he died, that part of me died, too. I couldn’t risk going through that again.”

  “I didn’t think fear was part of your vocabulary. You strike me as a very strong woman.”

  The hint of a rueful smile tugged at her lips. “Strength and fear aren’t mutually exclusive.” Then she turned the tables on him. “What about you? Do you believe in the power of love?”

  “For others, yes. For me, no.”

  She tipped her head. “Why not?”

  He studied her in silence, debating how much to reveal. He’d never shared the full story of his tragic loss with anyone. He’d been too ashamed. But this woman, who’d known more than her share of loss and pain, might understand.

  Besides, given the electricity between them, she needed to know that even if she changed her mind about romance, he wasn’t the man for her.

  “Would you like to sit for a minute?” He gestured toward the couch in front of the fireplace.

  Without a word, she moved toward it, perching on one arm. He took the opposite side, clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward, focusing on the flickering flames. “You already know that my wife and son were killed in a boating accident in Hawaii three years ago. What you don’t know is…” He sucked in a deep breath. “It was my fault.”

  In the silence that followed, he didn’t have to look up to know that shock had wiped the expression from her face.

  When at last she spoke, her words were laced with confusion. “I don’t understand.”