by Susan Crosby
“Don’t you need an education for that?”
“I’m sure that would be very helpful, but it’s out of the question at the moment. I’ve been studying a lot on my own, plus I have a knack for it. Everyone says so.”
“People do try to be kind…” Her voice trailed off.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. Shana had vowed long ago to be a different kind of parent than her own. Her daughter would feel supported and approved of.
Shana wanted her to have siblings, too. Without her own brother and sister while growing up, she would’ve had little family life.
She watched her mother sip her tea and enjoy the cookie and wondered—
“Are you happy, Mom?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A simple one, I think.”
She wrapped her hands around her teacup, as if its warmth could give her strength. “Well, you know, Shana, life is what it is. You work, you eat, you rest. You’re a good citizen. You don’t expect special treatment from anyone. Eventually you go to your Maker, so you’d better have lived a clean life. I’ve done all that, so I guess that would make me a happy person. Do I wish your father would retire? Yes. Ever since we rented that RV last year and hit the road, I got a yearning to do more of that before it’s too late. He’ll be seventy-eight next month, you know.”
Shana did know that. Her mother had been forty-three and her father forty-seven when she was born. They’d always been old to her, but especially now. Shana and her siblings had talked about how it had felt to them as if they’d been raised by their grandparents. It wasn’t just their age, but their attitude.
“Why won’t he give it up?” Shana asked. “What if the store never sells?”
“He’ll stay, that’s all. Like many men, he’s tied to his work. It’s who he is.”
“But does that mean you have to be, too? Don’t you want to take some time for yourself? You could be with Emma more, and with Gavin and Becca’s baby when it’s born in April.” Shana had never had such a personal conversation with her mother before, and she kept waiting for her to either clam up or leave in a huff, but instead she sipped her tea thoughtfully and seemed to ponder the questions.
“Your father and I are a team,” she said finally, but Shana thought there was much more to her answer.
“Mama!” Emma called from upstairs. She rarely woke up crying, but always woke up demanding.
“I’m coming, peapod,” Shana called back. “You’ll stay and visit awhile longer, won’t you, Mom?”
“A little while, yes.”
Shana hurried up the stairs. She stuck her head in Emma’s doorway. “Boo!”
Emma giggled, delighted, and raised her hands to be lifted down.
“Diaper change first, baby girl.”
“Diappy.”
Shana made quick work of it. “Grandma Bea’s downstairs waiting to see you.”
Emma frowned, as if trying to recall who that was.
Shana wasn’t surprised that Emma couldn’t remember her grandmother, they spent so little time together. Maybe when her mother finally retired, that would change. In the meantime, Aggie was the one Emma had bonded with the most.
Shana had just reached the bottom stair when Kincaid came through the door. He couldn’t have missed seeing her mom’s car out front, which meant he’d voluntarily come inside. She gave him a lot of credit for that.
“Kinky,” Emma said solemnly to him.
“Hello, Miss Emma,” Kincaid said. “Did you have a good nap?”
“All done.”
“Hi, Bea,” he said. “How’re you? Did Malcolm come, too?”
“I’m well, thank you.” She sat a little straighter. “Malcolm’s at the store, as usual. I’m sorry if I’m intruding, but Shana did invite me.”
“You’re welcome here anytime. As I told Shana, this is her home, too.”
Her mother’s back went a little straighter. “But she’s your employee.”
“A technicality.” He looked at Shana. “I came to get my truck. I need tools.”
“How bad is the damage at the Orwells’?”
“The cabinets will need a lot of sanding, but it won’t be noticeable when we’re done. Dylan needs to bulk up his muscles, anyway.” He grinned.
“I could bring you both dinner later on, if you like.”
He went still and silent for a minute, as if he didn’t know what to say. “That’d be great, thanks. Maybe at six?”
“Okay. I could sand tomorrow, too, if you have another job to get to.”
“We’ll see how it goes. Thanks for offering. Bea, please do come back. Tell Malcolm to come, too.”
Then he was gone. Zoom in, zoom out.
“Kinky!” Emma shouted, as if upset at his leaving.
“Really, Shana, can’t you teach her to say his real name? That’s embarrassing.”
“I’m sure in time she will. Would you like more tea?”
“No, thank you. I think I’ll run along.”
“But Emma just got up.”
“Your father is expecting me.” She stood. “I’ve always liked Kincaid. He’s respectful and serious, but I don’t like that you’ve moved in here, no matter what you say about it just being a job. It’s not right. There’ll be talk.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean I’m an unwed mother. People talk. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, thank you so much for taking your father and me into consideration.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I do take you into consideration. I do care.” She picked up Emma. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s walk Grandma to her car.”
“So there’s your new car,” her mother said as they went down the steps to the driveway. “Pretty spiffy shade of blue.”
“I like it.”
“I imagine you do.” She started to climb into her ten-year-old hatchback without hugging either Shana or Emma goodbye, but Shana was having none of that. She handed Emma to her mother for a hug, which brought a smile to her face finally. Then Shana gave her a big hug, too.
“Bye-bye,” Emma said, waving.
“Bye-bye, Emma. Bye-bye.” Bea glanced at Shana. “She looks like you did when you were that age.”
“My hair was curly?” It’d been stick straight for as long as she could remember.
“Until kindergarten, I think. I’ll look for some pictures for you.” She rolled up her window and took off.
Shana hugged Emma tight and kissed her forehead. “Shall we go see what we can fix for Kincaid and Dylan for dinner?”
Emma clapped her hands and giggled. “No!”
Shana laughed. “Yes!”
“No.”
“Okay. We’ll stay home.”
“No! Dilly.” She pouted.
“Then you need to say yes.”
There was a momentary battle of wills, then Emma said, “Yessss.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard.” They went into the house and straight to the kitchen. Emma played on the floor in the breakfast nook, pulling out toys from a basket, as Shana made a big pot of chili and a pan of cornbread.
A little before six o’clock they loaded the car and drove to the Orwell house. Emma raced ahead as Shana carried the pot then went back for everything else.
“How long did your mother stay?” Kincaid asked a few minutes later as they sat at the kitchen table, the Orwell family having gone out to eat. Fortunately the family owned a high chair, and Dylan was keeping Emma occupied.
“Mom left shortly after you did.”
“I hesitated when I got there. I didn’t know whether to just come back later or to see if you needed rescuing.” He grinned, as if making a joke.
“Thank you.” She meant it. His thoughtfulness continued to catch her off guard.
Kincaid’s expression changed. “Are things that bad between you?”
“They’re improving. It’s just been a slow process.”
“I knew you weren’t real close, but that’s all.”
Shana didn’t want to talk about it in front of Dylan, but then Dylan said, “I’m not close to my dad, either. Actually, he’s my foster dad, but I never think about him that way. It kind of hurt that I was with him and my foster mom since I was six, but he never wanted to adopt me. Mom would’ve.” He angled his head at Kincaid. “He taught me how to let go of that, said that people usually do the best they can, and we shouldn’t live our lives angry about something we can’t change. Didn’t think I was paying attention, did you?” Dylan asked Kincaid, grinning.
Shana wondered about Kincaid’s past now in a way she hadn’t before. Everyone knew he’d emancipated himself and moved here but not why. If he really had let go of a painful past, she admired him for that, but maybe he’d told Dylan to do what he, Kincaid, hadn’t been able to. Lots of people were good at advising others how to do something they hadn’t been able to do themselves.
Shana took Emma home, gave her a bath and put her to bed, then she hauled a load of laundry downstairs. She loaded the washer, turned the dial then felt the sting of tears in her eyes and throat as she realized it was the first time in years she hadn’t had to trek to a coin-operated laundry.
She stood staring at the washer as it filled with water. Sometimes it was the little things in life that made the difference, in this case not having to entertain Emma while she did the laundry, which took a couple of hours, generally. She could do one load at a time as her baby girl slept. She didn’t have to stockpile quarters. She could take things out of the dryer and hang them right away in the closet, preventing the wrinkles that came with putting them in the car and transporting them.
Suddenly the wonderful change in her life overwhelmed her. She’d been fighting letting herself enjoy it, not wanting to get too comfortable. It always seemed that whenever she found comfort, it got snatched away.
But in this house she slept in a big, soft bed, and her daughter had a bright, airy bedroom, and a yard with a play structure, and a mother who wasn’t struggling and stressed every second of every day.
And Shana wasn’t a charity case. Kincaid had hired her because he needed her skills. He’d said so, more than once. She was truly earning her own way.
Scalding hot tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. She hunched over and let them come. She had a right to be happy. Deserved to be happy. She’d been unhappy for so very long.
“What’s wrong?”
Kincaid had stepped into the laundry room, startling her. She hadn’t heard his truck pull up outside.
She could barely speak, but she couldn’t let him worry, either. “Nothing. I’m happy. I’ve never felt safer in my life. Thank you so much.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds, then somehow his arms came around her and she felt secure and good and warm. And he felt strong and solid and reliable. Which made her cry harder, releasing tears dammed up for years.
She felt him stroke her hair and heard his whispered, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” in her ear, and she pushed herself even closer, relishing the moment of comfort. His arms locked around her then. She didn’t want to be anywhere but there, right there.
Amazingly he didn’t end the embrace, as if knowing her mental health depended on this moment, so finally she moved back. She made eye contact, saw tenderness in his eyes, and understanding. He grabbed a towel off the dryer and passed it to her. She didn’t know what to say, and he wasn’t saying anything at all.
Finally she tried to smile. “I guess I just blew my tough-as-nails reputation with you, huh?”
He framed her face with his hands, and then he kissed her. His lips felt cool against hers as he lingered, not deepening the kiss but fully arousing her, anyway.
Yes, she thought, twining her arms around his neck. Oh, yes….
Then, “No.” She pulled away, shaking her head, her hands flattened on his sturdy chest. She yanked them back, closed them into fists, then finally looked at him. He was serious more often than not, but now he looked grim.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
“I wanted to,” he said as if it was obvious.
His answer jarred her. It seemed so…unKincaid-like. “Well, you can’t do it again.”
“Why not?”
Confounded herself, she plunked her fists on her hips. “Because we’re supposed to have a professional relationship.”
“But I liked it.” He leaned forward. “You seemed to like it, too.”
“That has nothing to do with anything.”
He smiled slightly. “Doesn’t it? Surprised the hell out of me, frankly, Shana, but there you have it. And you did stop crying.”
“That’s not why you kissed me.”
“Isn’t it? Why, then?”
“It’s the proximity. I knew it was going to be a problem.”
“If you already knew you were attracted to me, why did you say yes to the job?”
“I didn’t know! I thought I didn’t like you.” She was utterly confused.
“I felt the same. Looks like we were wrong.”
Oh, he was being so cool, so calm, so…accepting of what was now a huge problem for them.
She couldn’t deal with it until she thought about it some more, so she threw up her hands and walked away. “I’m going to bed.”
“At nine o’clock?”
She reached the staircase and started up.
“Sweet dreams, Shana.”
That did it. He was laughing at her. She turned around and marched back to him, grabbed his head and pulled him down for an all-out-assault kiss, a blistering, thorough melding of mouths and tongues. He didn’t waste any time catching up, either, his hands gliding down to cup her rear and pull her against him.
He groaned and came at her from a different angle. She moaned and went up on tiptoe. His mouth was hot and demanding. She took what he offered and gave him more back. Everything she’d yearned for these past two years poured from her and into him. She might have kept going, too, except he slid his hands up her sides, his fingertips grazing her breasts. It was like turning a light switch on in her head. Wake up, you fool! Wake the heck up!
She wrenched herself away and made herself smile, seemingly unruffled. “Sweet dreams to you, too, Kincaid.”
And with that, she turned and went back up the stairs, willing herself not to look back.
Chapter Seven
The scent of bacon cooking greeted Kincaid when he opened his bedroom door the next morning. He’d over-slept after a long night of fantasy-filled, high-passion dreams that had left his sheets tangled and his heart racing. He couldn’t say he regretted kissing her last night, but he recognized that their relationship was bound to change now.
At some point during the night he’d decided it’d been coming for a long time. They’d been edgy around each other for a reason, but he’d finally figured out it wasn’t because they disliked each other. On the surface it might look like that, but it wasn’t true. It was tension—just not the kind they’d thought all along.
He’d known that sharing the same house wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t expected things to change so quickly.
Kincaid went downstairs. The sounds of Emma babbling should have relaxed him, since he wouldn’t be alone with Shana. All he had to do was ignore what happened last night, hope that she would also join in the pretense and then make his escape to work.
Except…she needed to come with him this morning.
“Good morning,” Shana said from the stove, sort of glancing his way as he came into the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready.”
“Thanks.” He got a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cup, wishing Emma hadn’t stopped babbling. She’d gone silent as she watched his every move, her expression serious, her eyes the same vivid green as Shana’s.
Truth be known, Emma terrified him more than any adult ever had. Shana might be her mother, but he’d assumed responsibility now, too. He’d really had no idea what he was gettin
g himself into.
“Good morning, Miss Emma,” he said.
She stabbed some scrambled eggs with her tiny blunt fork but the eggs fell off, so she grabbed them with her fist and stuffed them in her mouth, flattening her hand against her lips so that the eggs wouldn’t fall out.
“Say good morning to Kincaid, Emma,” Shana said as she filled two plates with bacon, eggs and toast.
Emma gave him that belligerent look she’d perfected, the one that usually made him want to laugh. He figured he shouldn’t encourage her. He wished he knew more about what to do with her. Some people were naturals with kids, but he really hadn’t been around many, especially one this young.
“Get it while it’s hot,” Shana said, setting their plates on the counter.
“It all looks great, thanks.” He waited for her to sit, too, before he started, trying to remember the last time someone had fixed him breakfast. Usually he ate a bowl of cereal or stopped by the Lode. Homemade was a rare treat.
They ate in silence, Emma making enough noise for all of them, but he had no idea what she was saying. Every so often a word came through clearly, but the gist of her conversation was lost on him.
“Did you sleep okay?” he finally asked Shana.
She stopped eating. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Uh-oh. It sounded as if she’d had a worse night than he had. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Shana. I was being polite. We live together. Being cordial would seem preferable.”
“We don’t live together.” She picked up her empty plate and carried it to the sink. “I work for you. It happens to involve my living in your house, but we don’t live together.”
“I stand corrected.” He passed his empty plate to her. She almost snatched it out of his hands. “Are you expecting an apology from me for last night?”
“No.” She kept her back to him as she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
“Okay. Then what can I do to make you feel at ease?” Because he couldn’t live with all this tension in his home, his refuge.
“Done?” she asked Emma.
“All done.” She picked up her bowl and gave it to Shana, who scooped up the remnants from the tray before she returned to the sink.
