Tea and Destiny

by Sherryl Woods

  “Never mind him. I’ll be there,” she promised, reaching for the family calendar she kept posted on the refrigerator. “When is it?”

  “Day after tomorrow,” he said, the enthusiasm gone from his voice.

  “David!”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  Ann knew better. He’d probably been afraid to bring it up before now. Although David had been with her a year now, he’d been shuttled through so many foster homes that he expected this one to be short-term as well. Despite her reassurances, he still wasn’t convinced he had a permanent place in her heart. She ruffled his hair. “It’s okay, sport. It’s not a problem.”

  Hank stood. “Okay, guys, everybody scoot. You all have homework, I’m sure.”

  The kids scattered, but not before Tracy shot a knowing look at the two of them. Ann caught the thumbs-up signal she directed at Hank as she left.

  “Nicely done,” Ann said with an unmistakable edge of sarcasm.

  He grinned unrepentantly. “Do you think they suspected I wanted to be alone with you?”

  “Tracy certainly did. The others were probably just grateful that you let them off from doing the dishes.”

  He stared at the messy table in dismay. “Whoops. I knew there was something I’d forgotten.” He stood and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

  It was casual, she told herself. Perfectly meaningless.

  It set off fireworks deep inside her.

  “Don’t worry,” Hank was saying as she tried unsuccessfully to ignore the sparks he’d just ignited. “I’ll get this parenthood stuff down before too long.”

  “Hank, we need to talk about this.”

  “About what?” he said with apparent innocence.

  “Parenting,” she said determinedly. “You and me. Trips to Miami.”

  “What about it?” he inquired as he ran water into the sink.

  “Hank, will you pay attention to me, please?”

  He gave her a wicked grin and swept her up and into his arms before she realized his intentions. “I’m delighted you finally asked.”

  “Hank!” she protested, trying to bite back a laugh.

  “Yes?” he said, his tongue touching the shell of her ear and sending bolts of electricity shooting straight through her. Suddenly she no longer felt any desire to laugh.

  “Are you ever serious?” she said with forced levity, trying to wriggle out of his embrace. If she gave in now, she had a feeling she’d be lost, that she’d never recapture her control of the situation.

  “I am now,” he murmured, demonstrating with a very serious, breath-stealing kiss. His lips were velvet fire against hers, persuasive. Her control slipped another notch.

  “And I was this morning,” he added.

  She clung tenaciously to reality. “You were not. Now listen to me,” she said, gasping when she felt his hands glide up and down her spine. He pressed kisses along her neck, lingering at the spots that drew tiny, unwilling gasps of pleasure.

  “I am listening,” he swore softly.

  She brushed his hands away and backed off. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re taking it for granted that I feel the same way you do.”

  “You do,” he said with such confidence she wasn’t sure whether to give in or hit him.

  “I do not,” she said with emphasis on each word, hoping they would penetrate that thick skull of his.

  “Annie, you would not even consider going to bed with a man you didn’t love. You are considering going to bed with me, ergo you’re in love with me.”

  “You must have flunked logic.”

  “Actually, I did very well in it. I have a nice, tidy, scientific brain. I can reason things out with the best of them.”

  “This has nothing to do with reason.”

  “This what?”

  “What we’re talking about.”

  “You mean being in love?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I never said that made any sense. I just said it was a fact, a conclusion to be drawn from all the evidence.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Annie, you’re resorting to swearing again. Do you realize how often you do that when I’m winning an argument?”

  “You are not winning this argument,” she shouted at the top of her lungs, all pretense of calm gone.

  He smirked—quite calmly, damn him—and went back to the sink. “That’s what you think,” he murmured, sounding very pleased with himself.

  Ann slammed the back door on her way out.

  The whole world was spinning out of control. Ann tried once more to put her feet on the floor, but it rocked and her stomach lurched. The ache in her head was exceeded only by the pains in her joints. All of them, including the little tiny ones in her toes. She fell back against the pillows, wondering just how badly her very green complexion contrasted with the pale blue sheets. All in all, she felt like hell. She didn’t doubt for an instant that she probably looked ten times worse.

  Glancing at the bedside clock, she groaned. David’s parent-teacher night at school was starting in exactly two hours. She’d come home from work early to make sure that dinner was finished and out of the way before it was time to leave. She’d never made it past the bedroom, where she’d come to change her clothes.

  What on earth was she going to do? She had to be there. She’d promised and David took promises very seriously, especially since no one had ever kept them until she’d come along.

  “Mom, are you getting ready?” he shouted as he raced into her bedroom. At the sight of her, he skidded to a halt, his enthusiasm wilting.

  “You’re in bed,” he said, his voice quivering with dismay. She saw him bravely fighting tears and her heart constricted, even as her stomach lurched.

  “I’ll be up in just a minute.”

  “But you look all funny, like you’re really sick or something.”

  She tried not to groan at the understatement. Dying was closer to the mark, but she refused to discourage him any further. He was already looking crushed.

  “You go get Tracy to iron a shirt for you and I’ll be right in,” she said with far more spirit than she’d ever figured to muster.

  With a last skeptical look, he ran out the door, only to be replaced moments later by Hank. Ignoring his concerned expression, she struggled to her feet and promptly felt another wave of nausea wash through her.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, bracing herself against the nightstand.

  “Annie love, get back into bed.” Hank’s tone cajoled, the way it might an obstinate child.

  “I can’t.” She did, however, compromise by sitting down on the edge. Just for a minute. Just until the room stopped spinning.

  Hank strolled purposefully toward her, lifted a corner of the top sheet and pointed. “In!”

  She resented the domineering tone, but arguing was beyond her. She simply shook her head.

  He looked disgusted and sounded furious as he muttered something about her lousy temperament. “Hell, woman, you’re a doctor. You should know better.”

  “I have a Ph.D. in psychology,” she pointed out with another burst of contrariness. “Not an M.D.”

  “All the more reason for you to be using a little common sense. Even if going tonight doesn’t kill you, it will spread your germs through the entire population of the Keys. I doubt anyone, including David, would thank you for that.”

  “But I can’t let him down,” she protested. She was wavering, though. What Hank said made perfect sense, but then Hank wasn’t a mother. “I don’t think anyone’s ever gone to a parent-teacher night for him before. Can’t you see how much it means?”

  “Of course I can understand that. Put your head down, Annie,” he tempted.

  She ran her fingers over the pillow. The percale material felt very cool, very comforting. Her skin was burning up. If only…

  “I’ll go.” Hank’s announcement interrupted her mental debate.

  She stared at him in openmouthed astonishment. “You?”

>   He grinned. “Yeah. What’s so weird about that? Can’t you picture me in those tiny little chairs?”

  At the moment, she was having trouble picturing anything through the feverish haze of this blasted flu. Of all the times to pick up a bug. She never got sick. She was healthy as an ox. She ate oat bran and fresh vegetables and took her vitamins. Hank was the one who ought to be deathly ill.

  “After all, if I’m going to be a part of this family, then it’s time I took on more of the responsibilities,” Hank was saying. Something in the comment alarmed her, but she couldn’t think clearly enough to pinpoint it. “I’m sure David won’t mind. How about it?”

  “Go,” she murmured finally.

  With great effort, she swung her leaden legs back onto the bed and fell back against the pillows. Hank settled her more comfortably, his touch gentle as he awkwardly tucked the sheet around her and plumped the pillows. He vanished at once, only to return in what seemed like seconds with a glass of juice and a pitcher of ice water.

  “They always tell you to drink plenty of fluids with this stuff,” he said. He sounded very matter-of-fact, as if he’d played nursemaid to dozens of women. The idea bothered her more than she cared to admit.

  “So drink,” he urged.

  Ann nodded. The very thought made her insides revolt. “In a minute.”

  “Now,” he ordered, much less compassionately. He held a straw to her lips and waited until she’d swallowed several sips of the water. When she had, he placed everything within easy reach, then stood back and surveyed his handiwork, his expression troubled. “Are you going to be okay until I get back?”

  She gave a weak nod.

  “Tracy’s taking care of the little ones. She’ll feed them and get them to bed. They won’t bother you. She’ll check on you later and I’ll be home in no time to make sure you’re okay. If you need anything in the meantime, shout.”

  The idea amused her. She barely had enough strength to whisper. “No shouting,” she murmured sleepily, wondering at the unexpected feeling of contentment that was stealing over her. No one ever fussed over her, took care of her. Not until Hank. With him, it was getting to be a habit. Again the idea was somehow troubling, but she didn’t have the will to try to figure out why.

  “No shouting, huh?” he said, chuckling. “That’ll be a pleasant change. I’m sorry I’m not going to be around for it.”

  His teasing words faded out. For an instant she was certain she felt the light brush of his beard on her cheek, the touch of his lips, but she knew she had to be wrong. Not even Hank Riley would take advantage of a woman when she was on her deathbed.

  Ann awoke to sunlight streaming in the bedroom window. She lay perfectly still, testing her body, waiting for the first ache to make its presence felt. She waited several minutes. She felt…okay. Not ready for wind sprints, but intact and human.

  Just as she was about to test the sensation by crawling out of bed, the door swung open and Hank came in bearing a tray.

  “Well, it’s about time you woke up,” he said with the sort of forced cheer generally reserved for hospital rooms and uttered by nurses who thought of their patients as dimwits. It more or less suited the way Ann was feeling, slightly off kilter and out of control.

  “What time is it?”

  “Nearly noon.”

  Her eyes snapped wide and she struggled to a sitting position. “Good heavens, the kids! What about school?”

  With disgustingly little effort, Hank shoved her back. “They’ve gone. Not a one of them was late. Their clothes could have been a little neater, but I’m lousy with an iron. Feel like some tea and toast? I fixed some earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you. By now you probably need it.”

  She regarded him warily. In her weakened condition, she figured a little caution was called for. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I’ve been. I came back to check on you.”

  “I’m better. You can go now.”

  “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” he mocked.

  She flushed guiltily and fiddled with the sheet, trying unobtrusively to get it above the neckline of what she’d just realized was a practically transparent, very sexy nightgown. She didn’t exactly remember getting into it. She decided it was best not to ask how it had happened or who had chosen it. She usually wore oversize T-shirts to bed. This had been one of those crazy impulse buys on a day when she’d been feeling down and had needed to remind herself of her femininity. She’d never worn it.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. “I just don’t want to take you away from your job when it’s not necessary.”

  “They can manage without me for a while,” he said matter-of-factly, settling down beside her on the bed. He acted as though he belonged there. She suddenly felt feverish again. He held out the cup of tea. “Drink this.”

  She ignored the tea. She was less successful in ignoring his proximity. “Really,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. She could tell it was sticking straight out in every direction. “I can manage.”

  “I’m sure you can, but why don’t you relax for five minutes and let me wait on you.”

  She met his gaze and saw something there that made her breath catch in her throat. He looked as though bringing her tea and toast was important to him in some unfathomable way. He looked every bit as confused by the need as she felt by her reaction to it. He also looked determined. She recognized that pigheaded expression and gave up the fight.

  “Thanks,” she said finally, her breath uneven. She took the cup and sipped. He’d made the raspberry tea. He’d even remembered to leave out the sugar. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Now the toast,” he coaxed.

  “I’m not so sure…”

  “Try it. You should be able to keep it down and you need something in your stomach.”

  She took the smallest bite possible, just to satisfy him. “How’d last night go?” she asked, hoping to get his attention away from her continued lack of appetite.

  “Fine. David’s teacher had nothing but good things to say about his work. She says he’s improved tremendously in the time he’s been with you.”

  “How’d you explain your presence?”

  “I said we were living together.”

  Ann choked on the tea. “You what!” Her eyes widened in alarm.

  He grinned without the slightest hint of remorse. “I tried not to leer when I said it, though.”

  She moaned. “Hank Riley, are you determined to ruin my reputation?”

  “Annie, my love, your reputation is already well established. That’s why I said it.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  He chuckled. “You’re known for taking in strays. Surely one more won’t make a difference.”

  “Most of my strays have been under the age of twelve, at least when they arrived. Jason was a little older, but then nobody would ever think that he… None of them have been so…” She was at a loss for words that wouldn’t give away exactly how he affected her.

  “Decidedly masculine?” he offered with a smug expression.

  She laughed, despite herself. “You never let up, do you?”

  “Of course not. Why on earth would I do that, especially on a rare occasion when I have you weak and at my mercy.”

  “I am not weak.”

  “Care to prove it?” he challenged, leaning toward her.

  “Go away,” she muttered, shoving the tray at him with enough force to rattle the teapot.

  “Ungrateful woman,” he taunted, taking the tray. “We’ll finish this discussion later.”

  “Don’t count on it,” she said, suddenly feeling drained.

  “Ah, Annie, you really should stop fighting me. It’s such a wasted effort.”

  “Not in this lifetime,” she murmured, yawning.

  She couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open another second, not even when Hank whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” and folded her fingers around a small package.


  Once again she was almost certain she felt the gentle touch of his lips as she drifted off into a dreamless, contented sleep.

  Chapter 10

  It was the hard imprint of a box pressing into her cheek and the subtle crackling of paper that woke Ann later that afternoon. Opening her eyes reluctantly she found a package on her pillow. She only dimly recalled Hank putting it into her hand. Wrapped in silver paper, it had now-crushed streamers of red ribbon and clusters of tiny white hearts.

  Valentine’s Day.

  Suddenly she remembered his whispered wish as she’d fallen asleep. Her heart thumped unsteadily as she picked the package up and studied it. The box was long and narrow and flat. There was a slight rustling sound when she shook it gently. It could be a gold pen, but somehow she doubted it. The prospect of what it might be made her very nervous. She didn’t want Hank giving her jewelry. It seemed too personal, too important, too committed. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

  “Open it,” Hank said, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

  The low rasp of his voice set her ablaze. The significance of the package fanned the flames. “I’m not sure I should.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t think you ought to be giving me presents.”

  Blue eyes twinkled back, his expression a mixture of amusement and indignation. “Who made you guardian angel over my finances?”

  She glared at him as desire ebbed, replaced by more familiar irritation. She hated it when he decided to be deliberately obtuse. “I am not worried about your finances. You know what I mean.”

  “You mean you are not in the habit of accepting gifts from men.”

  It sounded a little silly when he said it. It was also an understatement. The last time she’d received a Valentine’s card from a male she had been in the sixth grade. “Something like that.”

  “Maybe you should get used to it. You deserve presents, Annie. And I intend to see that you get them. Now open this one before I have to remind you that learning to receive is as important as learning to give.”

  He had a point. She had been behaving ungraciously. It was only a small gift, after all. Unexpected excitement bubbled up inside her as she gently removed the ribbon. She was picking carefully at the tape, trying to prolong the anticipation, when Hank groaned and took the package from her.