by Claire Adams
Olivia sniffled, still clinging to me, and I just gently rocked her back and forth, wishing that there was something I could say. No matter how many difficult situations I'd had to deal with over my years of being a doctor, I couldn't seem to muster the words to soothe her now, though. Everything just seemed contrived. Fake.
Finally, she composed herself and pulled away, wiping at her eyes.
“I'd tell you another joke, but I'd be afraid it would go over as poorly as the last one,” I finally managed to tease. “I don't think I'd ever be able to show my face again!”
Olivia giggled and shook her head. “I'd hate for that to happen,” she said sincerely.
As I put the car back in drive, she reached over to take my hand, holding it timidly, like she thought I might pull away. I lightly squeezed her hand and rubbed my thumb across her knuckles.
We got closer to Tamlin, and I suppressed a sigh, hating the tension in the car and hating that the comfortable banter from earlier in the evening seemed to have all dried up. If it weren't for this cloud of her mother's illness hanging over us, I had a feeling that Olivia and I could be good friends. Maybe even something more than friends, since God knew I was smitten with her good looks and charm.
Not that I should be thinking about that.
“Hey, would you mind if we swing by Nana's house and pick up Emma?” I asked suddenly. “It's on our way.”
“No problem,” Olivia said, smiling over at me, and I was glad to see that she was feeling better, or at least putting on a brave face.
When we drove up to Helen's house, the lights were on in the living room. “You're welcome to come in,” I told Olivia. “I'm sure Helen would love to meet you. Emma's told her all about you, after all.”
Olivia smiled shyly. “All right,” she said, undoing her seat belt and following me up the walk and into the foyer.
In the living room, Helen and Emma were busy putting together a puzzle on the coffee table. They clearly hadn't heard us come in, but that made sense since Emma was chattering away in a voice that was a little too loud for being indoors. But then again, Helen's hearing wasn't that great; maybe Emma was just trying to make up for that fact.
Helen put in the final piece of the puzzle, patting it with satisfaction. “Look at that, Emily dear,” she said. “All finished!”
I felt a pang go through my heart, and I quickly turned to Olivia to explain. “Emily was Emma's mom,” I murmured. “My former wife.” I grimaced. “Like I said, Helen's memory isn't great these days. She sometimes forgets who she's talking to.”
Olivia blinked at me and then shook her head. “Emily and Emma aren't such different names,” she pointed out. “And my grandmother, when I was growing up, sometimes would call out the name of every other grandchild before she finally got to mine!” She grinned fondly at the memory.
I couldn't tell her how relieved I was to hear that, but something must have shown on my face if the way she reached over and lightly squeezed my hand was any indication. Then, she stepped toward the living room, and I hurriedly followed after her.
“Daddy!” Emma squealed delightedly, clapping her hands together. Then, her eyes narrowed at Olivia. “What is she doing here?”
I grimaced, embarrassed by Emma’s reaction. She'd had only positive words to say about daycare all week, but I could tell that Olivia was pretty frazzled every evening when I came to pick up my daughter, and I knew that it wasn't Harlan giving her trouble. I frowned at her. “Now Emma, that's not very nice,” I scolded.
“I don't want to go to daycare now,” Emma said, her lower lip wobbling.
It was Helen to the rescue, though. “Of course you're not going to daycare now,” she said soothingly, petting the girl's hair. “I bet your Daddy has just come to take you home for the night. You won't go back to daycare until Monday. Remember, you promised to go on a long walk with me tomorrow, and then we were going to bake cookies on Sunday.”
“You promise?” Emma asked, her expression still cloudy.
“I promise,” Nana said solemnly.
“You pinky promise?” Emma asked.
Helen dutifully linked pinkies with the girl, winking over at me as she did so. That broke the spell of unhappiness, and Emma slid off her chair and came over to me, hugging my leg tightly. Helen slowly made her way over as well.
“So, I presume that you are the lovely Ms. Sable,” she said, taking Olivia's hand between her own. She gave me a look, clearly wondering what Olivia was doing there with me. I felt embarrassed, knowing what this might look like to her. Of course, I had told her that one of my patient's family members and I were going out to dinner to discuss treatment options, but I hadn't told her that I was having dinner with an attractive young woman. She probably thought 'discuss treatment options' was just an excuse.
Olivia blushed. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Beal,” she said.
“Daddy, I ate all my vegetables and Nana let me have ice cream,” Emma announced proudly, heedless of whatever was going on in the shared looks between her elders.
“Emma,” Helen scolded playfully. “That was supposed to be our little secret!”
Emma popped a finger in her mouth and then grinned toothily up at me. “Oops,” she said.
I rolled my eyes with mock exasperation. “What am I going to do with the two of you?” I said. I picked Emma up and balanced her on my hip, then leaned in and kissed Helen on the cheek. “Have a good night,” I told her. “I need to get Olivia home.”
“Is it past her bedtime, too?” Emma asked, and we all laughed.
“It was nice meeting you,” Olivia said to Helen.
“You too, dear,” Helen said. “We'll have to have you over for dinner sometime. To show you how much we appreciate you taking the little rascal off our hands every day!”
Olivia laughed. “It's my pleasure,” she said.
“Right now, I think it's time to get the little rascal home to bed,” I said, but I lingered for another moment, wondering at the picture we made. Almost like a family.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Olivia and I weren't even dating, and we weren't going to date. I needed to stop thinking of this in relationship terms. She was just the daughter of one of my patients; I was sure she didn't see me as anything other than a doctor.
I suppressed a sigh and headed out to the car, resolving to get her home quickly so that I could quit thinking about the not-quite-date that we'd been on that night.
Chapter Six
Olivia
I wasn't sure why Eric wanted me to meet his mother-in-law, but it was sweet, seeing the three of them interact as a family. It cemented the idea in my mind that Emma really was a good kid. Looking for attention, certainly, but all her brattiness made sense in that context. I'd just have to work harder to show that I was paying attention, even when she wasn't having one of her temper tantrums.
The whole evening had been sweet. I knew that I shouldn't be thinking of things that way, but I couldn't help it. I could only imagine what it would be like to date the man.
Eric was silent on the drive from Helen's house back to my place, and I would have given anything to know what he was thinking. But I didn't dare ask, not with Emma in the back seat. She might be falling asleep back there, but I didn't need her to overhear us talking about my mother's cancer or whatever else might be weighing on Eric's mind.
It wasn't my place to ask, anyway.
I turned toward him as we reached my front door. I couldn't help the smile that crept across my face. “You didn't have to walk me to the door, you know,” I told him softly.
Eric reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Then, he shook himself, looking embarrassed. He glanced toward the car. “I think Emma's already out,” he said.
I hummed an agreement, trying again to figure out what he was thinking.
“I'm sorry I upset you earlier,” he finally said.
I shook my head. “I'm glad to know that you care about my mom,” I told him. “And thank you for
being so kind to me. Sorry I went to pieces on you like that.”
Eric waved away my apology. “Talk to your mom,” he finally urged, his voice gentle but earnest. “Soon.”
“I will,” I promised. I gave him a lopsided grin and held up a pinky. “I pinky promise I'll talk to her soon.”
Eric snorted but dutifully linked his pinky with mine, just as we'd watched Emma and her Nana do a little while earlier. “I didn't mean to scare you,” he said. “But cancer is a very serious thing. I should know.”
“Well, I would hope you would know,” I said mockingly. “Since you're a doctor and all.”
Something flickered across Eric's face, but whatever that feeling was, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, we lingered there in silence, each waiting for the other person to make a move.
I wanted him to kiss me, I realized. I knew that this hadn't actually been a date, but there had been moments where it felt like one, and right now was one of those moments. We were close enough that our breath was mingling in the crisp spring air, but he didn't move to close that gap, and I wasn't sure whether I could. Instead, I was frozen there, transfixed, waiting.
When Eric finally moved, though, he didn't kiss me. Instead, he pulled me into his arms for a quick but tight hug. Then, without saying anything, he hurried back to his car, lifting his hand in farewell before slipping inside and driving off into the night.
I slumped against the door, breathing out a heavy breath. I headed inside, feeling a tad disappointed by the lack of a kiss. But I felt better about all of this, as though a weight had lifted from my chest. Mom might have been getting worse still, but we had a plan of action. I needed to talk her into doing the chemo treatments.
Easier said than done, but if you really want something, you just have to push until you get it.
The next day, I went over to Mom's house, under the guise of helping her weed her extensive gardens.
“You know, I had dinner with Dr. Jones last night,” I said slowly, as we moved through the pepper plants, retying them to stakes as needed.
“Did you?” Mom asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I grinned. “It wasn't like that,” I told her. “I mean, it sort of was. He took me to this nice Italian restaurant over in Kingsfield, and he looked sexy in a suit. We had a good night. But it wasn't a date. I wanted to talk to him about those test results.”
Mom frowned, her earlier good humor gone. “Those test results,” she scoffed, viciously pulling a weed from the ground.
“He says that the only treatment option is for you to start chemotherapy right away,” I told her. “He thinks that would slow down the progression of the cancer.”
“Of course he does,” Mom said, rolling her eyes. “Olivia, do you have any idea how expensive those chemo treatments are? I barely have insurance anymore, and my supplier won't foot the full cost of the treatments. Nowhere near the cost of them, probably. I live on a meager pension and what little savings I could scrape together, with all my years of being a teacher. You know that.”
“Mom, if it's just the money that's holding you back, I'm sure we could figure something out. There are plenty of websites where you can ask for funding for things like this. We could at least talk about our options with Dr. Jones.”
“I just can't afford it,” Mom said stubbornly. “And I'm not going to take other people's well-earned money to do so.”
“You can't afford not to, though,” I said softly. “Mom, think about it. You could be...” I swallowed hard, unable to say the word.
“I'm not dying,” Mom said exasperatedly. “I appreciate your concern, but it's really nothing to worry about. Tests have been wrong before.”
“But what if it isn't wrong?” I pressed. “Mom, I moved here from Chicago because you were diagnosed with cancer a while ago. You haven't done anything about it, and now we hear that the cancer has progressed. It all seems to make sense. And Eric doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would be scamming you out of your money. He seems like he genuinely cares.”
“You worry too much, sweetie,” Mom insisted. “I haven't felt anything wrong with me since the initial lung discomfort that sent me to the doctor's, to begin with. I'm sure that this is just allergies, and it'll all blow over soon enough.” She grinned. “Don't you think your old Ma knows a thing or two about this sack of bones that she's been dragging around for years?”
“I'm sure you do, Mom, but I also think that Dr. Jones, as a trained medical professional, might know a thing or two about it as well,” I sighed, but I could tell that I was losing the battle.
“You're just blowing things out of proportion,” Mom said firmly, clearly meaning to end the conversation there.
I wasn't quite ready to let it go, though. “Mom, I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost you,” I said softly. “You're my best friend. I want you to be around to see all the things that I get up to in my life. I want you to be there when I eventually get married and have children of my own. I don't want to lose you to this.”
“You're not going to lose me to this,” Mom said. “Like I said, I'm sure it's just allergies, nothing more. I'm in better shape than most people my age, you know.”
“I know,” I agreed tiredly. No matter what I said, I couldn't seem to get through to her. She refused to believe that the cancer was real, and I wasn't sure how to proceed in that situation. It was something that I should have mentioned to Eric the previous night, but I'd been too busy pretending that I was on a date with him.
I felt a stab of guilt, wondering if I was letting my feelings for him cloud my ability to rationally assess the situation with Mom.
“So tell me more about this dinner with Eric,” Mom said, emphasizing his name rather than calling him 'Dr. Jones'.
I shook my head. “There's not much more to tell,” I told her. “We had a nice time. I met Emma's Nana, too.”
“Mrs. Beal is a lovely woman,” Mom said. “I'm surprised that he took you to meet her already, though. But then again, I suppose I already know him.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning. “Mom, he and I aren't dating,” I said firmly. “I only met Helen because we stopped by to pick up Emma on the way home.”
“You may not be dating, but I can tell you're interested in him,” Mom said, grinning right back at me. “I can't remember the last time you went to dinner with a man. And watching the two of you interact the other night was something, too. You seem happy.”
“I am happy,” I said, knowing that I needed to change the topic of conversation before I said something that I might regret. As soon as she started thinking there might be a possibility that Eric and I would start dating, I would start to get my own hopes up.
I gave her a hug, heedless of the dirt covering both of us after a couple of hours in the garden. “I am happy,” I repeated. “I get to see you all the time, and I'm settling into the new daycare. Things are going well for me right now.”
“Are you really happy, living here in Tamlin?” Mom asked, sounding uncertain, and I wondered if maybe that wasn't part of her refusal to admit that she had cancer. Maybe she didn't want to admit it was serious because she didn't want me to feel like I had to be there.
“Mom, I like it here,” I told her firmly. I frowned, knowing that she would expect more of an answer than that. “I love it in Chicago. You know that,” I admitted. “But it's a good change of pace, to come here for a little while. It's been a while since I was able to relax. The other day, I sat down with a book and did some reading out on my porch. Do you know how long it's been since I did any reading?”
That finally got the conversation changed over to what book I was currently working my way through, and I breathed a mental sigh of relief.
All I could think about, though, was that I was happy here, and Eric was part of the reason I was so happy. I swallowed hard and plucked a few last weeds from the ground, using the manual labor in a futile attempt to distract myself.
Chapter Seven
Eric
>
Emma stood in front of the popsicle case for nearly five minutes, debating what she wanted. To be honest, she didn't deserve a popsicle that day, but I'd used it as a bribe to ensure her good behavior for the past half hour while I did a little shopping at the general store, and I knew what would happen if I reneged on my promise.
To be really honest, I didn't need anything from the general store, but I'd needed to distract Emma and had hoped that getting her out of the house for a little while might do the trick. That day had been temper tantrum after temper tantrum, as though Emma was making up for the week apart while she'd been at daycare.
Not for the first time, I felt bad that I couldn't devote more of my attention to her. I spent as much time with her as I could, and we were practically inseparable on the weekends, but I knew she needed more attention than what I was giving her. It was hard, being a single dad. Harder than I ever could have expected.
I scooped Emma up into my arms, kissing her on the temple. “All right, kiddo, what's it going to be?” I asked.
“I don't know, Daddy,” Emma whined. I wondered if maybe she was getting sick and that was the cause for all of this crankiness. But she hadn't made any complaints about feeling yucky, and her temperature seemed normal. I'd have to keep an eye on her over the next few days. Maybe I could trick her into coming into the office for some tests if she thought that we were playing a game of pretend.
I had become a little overprotective of Emma since her mother's death, but although I recognized that in myself, I couldn't help it. If anything happened to Emma as well, it would ruin me.
The bells over the door chimed, drawing me away from my thoughts. I glanced over to see who it was and grinned immediately. “Hi Olivia,” I said, waving at her. “Look, Emma, it's Ms. Olivia.”
Emma didn't wave, and her face settled into a pout like she was upset that my attention had turned away from her for two seconds. She started to squirm a little, so I bent down to set her on the floor. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she was off, running into another aisle.
