Child of Her Heart

by Cheryl St. John

  “There’s a kite shop across the street,” Justin said. “Shall we fly kites on the beach this afternoon?”

  A duet of cheers went up from the boys. Mauli and Meredith simply nodded in a less exuberant show of agreement.

  A few hours later, Justin and Meredith put the finishing touches to the third kite—three because the boys insisted Anna have one. Mauli sat beneath the umbrella with Anna, reading. “Do you want to fly Anna’s kite?” Meredith called to her.

  She shook her head. “You go ahead. I’m at a good part.”

  Jonah’s whale kite was the first in the air. He had selected the kite after The Sandpiper’s captain had let him steer the boat that morning and teasingly commented that they had to keep a careful eye out for anyone named Jonah on a whale watch.

  Justin helped Lamond with his dinosaur kite while Meredith ran along the beach with Anna’s butterfly. A perfect gust of wind caught it, and she let out the string, watching the colorful kite soar until it grew smaller and smaller against the blue sky. Smugly, she called to Justin whose kite still wasn’t up. “Need a hand there?”

  He deliberately ignored her teasing and ran along the beach, Lamond at his side. Finally their kite caught an updraft and was swept into the air.

  An hour of flying the kites wore out the adults, and they retired to the blanket under the umbrella. Mauli took the opportunity to head back to the hotel for a shower.

  Justin reclined on the blanket with his hands stacked behind his head and his eyelids lowered.

  From her comfortable canvas beach chair Meredith watched the boys run and laugh, calling to each another. When she turned and glanced at Anna, then Justin, she found him watching her. A dozen questions played in his deep chocolate eyes. But he hadn’t asked any of them, giving her the freedom to relax with him, to be herself and to enjoy this time with no strings or expectations or judgments.

  His friendship was a gift, offered freely.

  “We don’t know much about each other, do we?” she said softly, thinking out loud.

  He smiled easily and shrugged.

  “I was raised in the Midwest,” she said. “Nebraska. My folks relocated to Portland when I was a teen.”

  “So you’re a farm girl.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone think all of Nebraska is overrun with cows and chickens? I happened to have lived in a city bigger than Portland.”

  He chuckled. “Excuse me, Miss Metropolitan.”

  She couldn’t hold back a grin.

  “I grew up in eastern Oregon,” he told her. “Two older sisters and a younger brother.”

  “I’m an only child,” she said.

  He nodded and asked nothing.

  A couple with three small children passed their umbrella, and Justin turned his attention to his boys for a few minutes.

  His company was so comfortable, even silences between them were companionable. She let out a contented sigh.

  Turning back, he raised his eyebrows in a question.

  She shrugged. “It’s nothing really. Just that it’s been a long time since I’ve relaxed and enjoyed myself like this.”

  A long moment passed, during which the surf roared and seagulls called overhead. “It’s been a long time since I thought of myself as something other than a father or an attorney,” he said at last. “Or half of a whole, left behind to sort through life.” He nodded as though confirming what he’d just said. “That’s it exactly.”

  She studied his expression, absorbed his words.

  “I haven’t felt like a man,” he said finally, and she understood his feeling.

  “I couldn’t begin to know what it’s like to lose someone the way you did.”

  “It’s not real at first.” He sat up and folded his forearms over his knees, staring out at the ocean. “There’s a sort of cocoon of denial you wrap yourself in, because the situation is so surreal. But then you have to face the days and the nights. And other people…and your children. Pretty soon the truth won’t stay at bay.”

  He glanced at her. “And when the truth does sink in, it’s followed by anger and fear…and grief.” His gaze returned to the surf and sky. “And to keep the grief from overwhelming you, it’s right back to the denial. I’m okay, the kids are okay, all that. Pretty soon the denial becomes all there is.”

  “Maybe it’s not as much denial as it is begrudging acceptance and determination to be okay,” she suggested. “I see it in my young patients all the time. If they refuse to dwell on what they can’t do and focus on what they can, it makes all the difference in their progress.”

  Justin moved his position to sit closer to her chair. When he reached up and took her hand, she held fast to his. “Maybe it’s getting away,” he said. “Maybe it’s because enough time has passed…but I tend to believe it’s because we met that I feel more hopeful about things, more optimistic about myself than I have for a long time. I’m looking past this moment and this single day of survival to something else.”

  She understood survival. She understood taking one day at a time. Her throat tightened with emotion. She could tell him about what she’d been through, but the words wouldn’t form. The last man she’d spoken the word cancer to had split in record time, and that rejection wasn’t an easy thing to forget.

  Justin got to his knees and, still holding her hand, looked into her eyes. “This is going to sound really corny, but it’s true. I haven’t talked to anyone like this for a long time. I feel as if you get what I’m saying and you’re not criticizing me for what I’m feeling. Nor are you trying to dump a bunch of worthless platitudes on me. You don’t expect me to cheer right up and forsake my coping mechanisms for what you think I should be doing.”

  His hand was warm and his eyes were filled with sincerity. The urge to say more rose inside her, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d done too much coping herself to be critical of anyone else’s methods.

  “Is me spilling my guts making you uncomfortable?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Good.” He smiled at her then, and the tempting crease in his cheek drew her hand. She placed her fingers against his skin.

  His smile faded and his dark, intent gaze bored into hers.

  With a flutter of nervous anticipation, she raised her chin in invitation.

  Justin closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers.

  Eight

  The kiss was warm and tentative, a gentle sampling of something they’d both been wondering about. She moved her fingers from his cheek to the back of his neck and tilted her head ever-so-slightly to deepen the contact.

  Justin brought both hands up to cup her face, sliding his fingers into her hair behind her ears, moving his lips over hers in an increasing quest of discovery and sensual pleasure. Meredith’s heart fluttered and, along with the sound of surf and seagulls, she could almost hear surprise and delight whoosh in her ears.

  She relaxed and breathed, enjoying the measured pressure of his lips, the feelings that brought her body and her heart to life, and the way he kissed her with respect and reverence and a touch of awe that made her ache inside.

  Justin was the one to end the kiss, leaving her vaguely disappointed and out of breath.

  He rested his forehead against hers and kept his fingers in her hair. “Was that too soon? Too much?”

  With her eyes still closed, she let her hand trail from his neck to his shoulder. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Probably.”

  “Was it okay?”

  She nodded, moving his head with hers. “More than just okay.”

  He sat back, taking her hands in his, and she opened her eyes to see him, this stranger with the sexy smile and a heart-stopping look of purpose in his sparkling eyes.

  “Since we’ve moved forward a little, do you think we could spend some time alone tonight? Will you have dinner with me?”

  Her only hesitation was Anna.

  “Mauli will keep Anna,” he said intuitively. “She’s completely trus
tworthy. Unless you have other misgivings.”

  “I have a lot of misgivings,” she said, her mind racing, “but they’re all about me. I want to have dinner with you.”

  One side of his lips turned up and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Okay.”

  Jonah called for his dad then, and releasing her hand, Justin went to join his boys.

  Shortly after, Anna awoke and Meredith called to Justin. “I’m taking Anna in now. I’ll see you a little later.”

  He waved. “I’ll take care of the umbrella and chair for you.”

  Once inside, Anna nursed and stayed awake for quite a while. Meredith played with her, then wound the musical crib mobile to entertain the baby while she showered.

  While she dressed and did her hair and makeup, she placed Anna nearby in her infant seat so she could talk to her. She chose a sleeveless dress she’d packed just in case and paired it with sandals, glad she’d painted her fingers and toes with the nail polish Chaney had given her. Bright red wouldn’t have been Meredith’s first choice, but it was fun and sexy and fit her cheerful mood.

  Chaney had even slipped a silver ankle bracelet in the basket, and Meredith took it from its cardboard anchor and clasped it on.

  She looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door and pressed her fingers to her flushed cheeks. She hadn’t taken this much care or been this eager since prom night in high school.

  A vision of Veronica’s disapproval if she knew about Meredith’s date tonight flashed in her mind’s eye and she immediately quashed the thought. Her mother was a disappointment she’d been forced to deal with time and again. She couldn’t change Veronica, so she was learning to do what was best for herself without the woman’s support or approval.

  She coaxed Anna to nurse again, packed a bag with supplemental formula and a bottle and had just turned on her cell phone when Justin knocked at the door.

  He wore a pair of dark green trousers and a sport jacket. The pullover shirt underneath was ivory colored and soft looking. At his handsome appearance, her breath locked in her chest.

  His appreciative gaze returned her observation, touching on her hair, which she’d curled and left loose, then admiring her dress and bare legs. “I guess it’s the real thing,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He grinned. “It must be a real date because we both dressed up.”

  She brushed her palms over her hips nervously and returned a hesitant smile. “I know. I haven’t done this for a while, either.”

  “Well, since we’re both out of practice, we’ll get the hang of it together, how’s that?”

  He always set her at ease; it was one of the many things she enjoyed about his company. She turned into the room and picked up her purse and Anna.

  Justin gathered the infant seat and diaper bag. “The boys are looking forward to entertaining Anna for the evening.”

  “I’ve never left her before,” she confessed. “I’m doubly nervous.”

  “I’ll grab my phone,” he said. “Mauli will call if she needs anything.”

  “Oh, I have mine,” she replied. “I’ve written down my number, along with three pages of instructions and suggestions. She’s going to think I’m obsessive.”

  He followed her out the door. “A mother is obsessive. It’s her job. Got your key?”

  She double-checked her purse for the plastic card. “Check.”

  They took an elevator to the second floor and Justin led her to a door where he used his key card. The elegantly appointed room was nearly identical to hers. The boys abandoned the video game they were playing to greet Meredith and Anna.

  Mauli set Meredith at ease by listening to all her instructions and promising to call at the least problem.

  “I’ve never left her before,” Meredith said.

  “No!” Mauli said with mock surprise and then gave her an understanding smile. “This is as good a time as any,” she assured her, taking the baby.

  “I don’t know how she’ll do with the bottle.”

  “If she won’t take it, I’ll call you.”

  “She should be good for a couple of hours anyway,” Meredith said, kissing Anna’s head. “Bye, sweetie.”

  Jonah and Lamond gave their dad hugs, and Meredith and Justin slipped out into the hall. Clutching her purse, she joined him in the elevator, and her stomach dipped as the car descended. “It feels really strange not to be carrying her.”

  When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, Justin stood halfway out and used his back to prevent them from closing. “You sure you want to go? We can still change our minds and eat pizza with the kids.”

  She studied his face for thirty seconds. “I want to go. I have to leave her eventually. Pretty soon I’ll be taking her to day care while I work. This is a good way to ease into the separation.”

  “I don’t want you to be uneasy.”

  She stepped past him into the lobby. “I’m fine. Come on.”

  Daylight was waning as he held the passenger door of his Lexus for her and held her hand. She stepped up.

  “I have a place in mind if it’s okay with you,” he said, getting in and starting the engine. “It’s about a half-hour drive down the coast. Not too far in case Mauli should call.”

  “That’s fine.”

  He took the state highway along the beach, past Oswald West State Park and on to a cape that held a cluster of buildings, among them The Blue Whale.

  Once inside the dimly lit restaurant, they were seated near a wood-burning fireplace and with a view of the ocean. An oil lamp glowed at the side of their table, and the ambience was that of an eighteenth-century tavern, with the employees in period costume.

  “I love this place,” Meredith said after taking it all in. “How did you know about it?”

  “It’s in the tourist guide.”

  She glanced at the lamp. “Do you suppose that’s whale oil?”

  He grinned and picked up his menu. “I doubt it.”

  She, too, looked over the variety of dinners.

  He surprised her by pulling out a pair of glasses and slipping them on to peruse the cuisine. “I suppose one must eat seafood when one is vacationing on the coast.”

  “One should,” she replied, amused. She’d picked up on the fact that he spoke like an attorney when he got nervous. “I’ve never had such excellent fish as I’ve had during my stay here.”

  “What sounds good?” he asked.

  “A steak.”

  He removed the glasses and chuckled. “I wasn’t going to admit I’ve been craving beef the past two days.”

  “Well, now our secret is out.”

  “We could get the steak and lobster for two,” he suggested. “That way we can say we had the local specialty.”

  “Excellent idea, Counselor.”

  He took her menu and laid them both aside. “I can’t even impress you with my wine selection.”

  “You don’t have to impress me. And please, order a glass. I’ll take a tiny sip so I’ll know what I’m missing. I promise I’ll be impressed.”

  When the waitress returned, he ordered for them, and a few minutes later she brought his wine, followed by their salads and warm, crusty bread.

  “Tell me more about the children’s camp you want to start,” he said.

  “Well…I want to develop a nonprofit summer camp with modified boats and docks, special riding gear and the whole bit. I was able to raise small donations, but not enough for a lease on a campsite or the insurance. As I’ve mentioned before, I was working on bigger prospects when I—I had a personal setback.”

  Justin asked nothing. “Have you been able to move forward again?”

  “Just barely. I devoted the last year to my pregnancy and to Anna. But I want to get back to seeking funds. Once I get enough money for the location and the medical equipment and all that, then I’ll still need volunteers to staff the camp. It will take a host of professionals—nurses, doctors, therapists, nutritionists. Amazingl
y enough I’ve had people come to me and offer their time and expertise once the ball gets rolling.”

  “There are a lot of caring people in the world,” he said. “More than we learn about, because the media plays up the negative aspects of society.”

  They talked more about her plans, and soon their meal was delivered.

  They ate leisurely, conversing and occasionally watching the reflection of the moon on the ocean. Justin offered her a sip of his wine and she tasted it, finding it sweet and full-bodied.

  He deliberately turned the stemware to the place where her lips had touched and drank. Warmth not caused by wine curled in her stomach, and she vividly recalled the feel of his lips on hers that afternoon. She wanted to experience the sensation again…and again.

  His dark eyes sparkled in the glow of the lantern as he raked his gaze over her face and hair. “Before today I’d never touched anything as soft as your hair,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

  She knew no reply, so she simply reveled in that knowledge and the headiness of being sexually appealing.

  “Your hair’s cute when you tie it up,” he went on, “but I’m glad you wore it loose tonight. I like to watch it move and catch the light.”

  No man in her experience had ever been so attentive.

  “Right now I’m wishing I could lean against you and bury my face in your hair,” he said. “I’ll bet it smells sexy.”

  Meredith took a sip from her stemmed water glass and her fingers trembled.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  Uncomfortable? As in her heart doing this staccato number in her chest? Warmth pooling in her belly and her breasts tingling? Oh, yeah. She shook her head, knowing the action would draw attention to the hair he admired. “You’re making me…” Hot.

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “Feel attractive,” she managed finally.

  “You’re more than attractive, Meredith. You’re beautiful and sexy and intelligent.” He paused and laced his fingers together, elbows on the table. “I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you. I have this habit of saying what I’m thinking, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—all about you.”