by Tara Randel
Leo, quickly bored, scampered out of Mitch’s embrace to toddle over to a basket of toys. When he wavered, Mitch reached out his arms as if to steady the little guy. To his relief, Leo stayed upright and then dug in to find a toy to play with.
“Zoe told me he’s started walking.”
“He’s getting better every day.” Samantha paused. “I’m glad you’ll see him grow up, Mitch.”
He blinked watery eyes. “Me, too.”
Leo picked out a red block and carried it over to Mitch. When Mitch took it, Leo giggled and ran back for another. This went on for six trips until Leo wandered toward the kitchen.
“Now we need to set up a baby gate,” Samantha said as she swung Leo up and set him back by the toy basket.
“Can I help?”
“Sure. Zoe is supposed to pick one up at the store. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you helping assemble it.”
Would she? Mitch hoped so, because after holding his son, he wasn’t going anywhere.
As Leo brought over another toy for Mitch, he noticed the child’s gaze catch sight of the brightly colored box on the table. Leo bellied up to the coffee table and reached out, his fingers merely grazing the box. His brows angled and his cheeks went red before announcing his displeasure with a loud cry.
“You’d better open the box so Leo can play with the wrappings.”
“Is it okay? For him to play with the paper, that is?”
“For a whole minute before he goes off to something else.”
Mitch leaned over and slid the box closer to Leo. He broke the tape on one flap, loosening the gift wrap. Leo caught on quickly, grabbing the paper and pulling. It ripped and revealed part of the box. Leo giggled and grasped for more.
Before long, the paper was in a pile on the carpet while Mitch studied the box, which indeed contained a new camera.
“Surprise,” Samantha sang. “I couldn’t let you go on without one.”
Actually, Mitch had been just fine camera-less. Now he’d be forced to find out if the accident had affected his abilities.
“This is way too generous,” he said.
“It’s my way of letting you know I’m thrilled you, and your talent, are still here with us.”
Mitch set the box on his lap as he read the details on the side. He was looking at a digital SLR camera, with an additional portrait lens and another smaller lens, along with a carrying case. By the description, he learned it was more high-tech than the one he’d lost, weatherproof and durable, definitely a tool he could use indoors and out.
All in all, a really nice camera.
Leo came over and began slapping the top of the box. Mitch moved it out of range. “Sorry, little guy. This isn’t a toy.”
Leo’s face went red again and Mitch waited for an outburst, but instead, Leo sank down by Mitch’s feet and messed around with the wrapping.
“He’ll like playing with the empty box.”
“Really, Samantha, this is too much.”
“I disagree, so don’t argue with me. You’ll only lose, anyway.”
That much he remembered.
“Thank you.”
“Before you know it, you’ll be out capturing photos the world will want to see. Since you’re still healing, start out slowly and see what happens.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“A talent like yours is intrinsic, Mitch. I believe in you. So much so, I’ll sponsor a show at my gallery.”
“Now you’re really putting the cart before the horse. I have no clue what the future holds for me.”
He still had trouble with his equilibrium. The headaches still disabled him in their intensity. He knew there would be more therapy and doctor’s visits to come. When would he have time to take photos?
Suddenly, everything about his situation overwhelmed him and he was afraid he might experience another meltdown. His palms grew sweaty. Inhaling, he calmed his frazzled nerves while waiting for his racing heart to slow down.
“Stick around Cypress Pointe while you decide,” Samantha continued, unaware of his rocky condition. “There are plenty of locales to capture right here in your own backyard.”
Hoping to cover his physical reaction, Mitch set the box on the couch, out of Leo’s view, and played with his son. He soon discovered Leo was a definite balm to his soul. Like a healing gift. Samantha went back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, seemingly unconcerned about leaving Leo in Mitch’s care. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or, if anxiety hit again, terrified.
A little past noon, the front door opened and Zoe blew inside, wrestling a large box. When she saw Mitch on the floor with Leo, she blinked a few times before closing the door with her foot.
Her cheeks were rosy, from carrying the load, he guessed, and her hair was attractively mussed. Her pretty blue eyes met his, then dropped away. But not before he caught... Was that embarrassment? Had she been thinking about their conversation at the beach? Or how she’d left him for another guy?
Yeah, that little tidbit had kept him awake for two nights in a row.
“Mitch. Hi.” She looked around. “Where’s my mom?”
“In the kitchen,” Samantha called out before stepping into the living room.
“I...ah...didn’t expect to still see you here.”
“Don’t worry,” he told her in a measured voice. “Leo is just fine.”
She dropped the box. “I can see that.” She met his gaze, this time more composed. “I didn’t mean to imply he wasn’t.”
He shrugged. She might say otherwise, but he still read the uncertainty in her eyes.
Samantha picked up the box. “Oh, good. The gate. I was just telling Mitch we needed one.”
Zoe captured Leo and scooped him into her arms, rubbing her pert nose against his. “Because speedy racer here needs boundaries.”
Leo let out a squawk and wiggled until Zoe set him down. He toddled to Mitch and sat down beside him.
“We’re getting to know each other,” Mitch offered.
“That’s good.”
“How long are you here?” Samantha asked.
“About forty-five minutes. I have a town council meeting later.”
“Then let’s get lunch going. Mitch? Any requests?”
“Anything is fine.” He rolled to his side to lean on the coffee table before pulling his bum leg up. In the past few days, his arm had gained strength, so he wasn’t as leery about using it to help brace himself. When he looked down, he found Leo mimicking him. A startled chuckle escaped him.
Samantha took Leo’s hand. “Come on, half-pint. Cut-up hot dogs and bananas are calling your name.”
As the two disappeared into the kitchen, Mitch couldn’t miss Zoe’s discomfort.
“You’re getting along with Leo?”
“Like best buds.”
A frown wrinkled her forehead.
“Why do I get the impression you’re not happy?”
Her gaze jerked to meet his. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. I just haven’t had to...”
“Share him?”
She let out an uneasy laugh. “Bingo.” She waved a hand. “Don’t mind me. This will all seem normal soon.”
“Zoe, I can’t swoop in here and take your place. I wouldn’t want to.”
“I know. I’m just being silly.”
“You’ve had sole responsibility for a year. I get that. But now we can share. You don’t have to shoulder the load.”
“Leo isn’t a burden.”
“I didn’t say that. I meant now you have someone to help you.”
She looked unconvinced but remained silent.
Mitch shifted, moving his cane from one hand to another. When he moved from the couch, Zoe asked, “What’s in the box?”
“Your mom got me a new camera.”
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“Your old one?”
“Lost after the accident.”
“That explains things. I mean, it was weird seeing you without it. I just assumed you weren’t working, so you didn’t need to tote it around.”
“I’m still not working. Don’t know if I will again.”
His comment caught her attention. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I can take pictures.”
“I don’t understand. Can’t you just pick up the camera and shoot?”
He sent her a brittle smile. “There’s a little more to it.”
“Sorry. I knew that.”
A burst of laughter came from the kitchen. Leo to their rescue.
Mitch hobbled to the next room, Zoe close behind. Samantha set plates on the table with a loaf of bread and two different types of cold cuts and cheeses.
“Help yourself,” she urged.
They made sandwiches and ate in strained silence until it was time for Zoe to get back to the office. As she was preparing to leave, Mitch noticed Zoe pull her mother into the living room and heard muted voices. He braced his legs, lifted Leo from the high chair, surprised and pleased when Leo didn’t want Mitch to set him on the floor. Balancing Leo’s weight on one side, the cane on the other, he successfully carried him toward the other room.
“Mom, what were you thinking?”
“That Mitch needed a new camera. A reason to get better.”
“Those are the key words—getting better. Until then, we can’t push him. We have to remember he can’t function like he used to.”
He nearly stumbled at her words. Leo croaked and the two women looked his way, surprise on Samantha’s face, guilt crossing Zoe’s.
Is that who he was now? The injured guy who couldn’t function?
“Don’t worry, ladies. The invalid isn’t planning a major photo shoot anytime soon.”
* * *
MORTIFICATION GRIPPED ZOE. She hadn’t meant for Mitch to overhear. Not that she’d said much, but enough for Mitch to suspect Zoe had her reservations about his future intentions. Whenever mention of a camera entered a conversation, all she could think about was Mitch choosing his career over her. Some things hadn’t changed.
Leo, sensing the rising emotion in the room, squirmed. Mitch set him down, teetering, then stabilizing himself with his cane. Would he always need extra assistance? She hated thinking of Mitch this way, but the truth stood before her, a thundercloud shadowing his features.
“I’ll get out of your way.”
“Mitch—”
Leo toddled over and tugged on her leg. She lifted him, settling him on her hip. Leo buried his face in her neck and she rubbed his back, taking comfort in her bundle of joy.
Mitch walked past her, his expression now under control, even though she could feel the waves of tension as he passed her.
“What about your playdate with Leo?” Samantha asked.
“I’ll come back another time.”
He sent Zoe a glance, one she couldn’t decipher, and left the house.
“Mom,” Zoe railed. “Mitch doesn’t need this kind of pressure.”
“What he needs is to feel productive. To work again,” Samantha countered.
“Right. You know this because you’re such an expert on the career of Mitch Simmons.”
“Obviously, I comprehend that part of him better than you do.”
Zoe tightened her grip on Leo as she carried him to his room to ready him for his nap. She laid him on the changing table and unsnapped his little pants to change his diaper.
“Like I don’t know my own husband,” she groused, handing Leo a small stuffed animal to hold his attention while she went to work.
Being a pragmatist, Zoe had struggled to grasp the passion of an artist’s soul. She’d had her own projects to throw herself into, fighting for ideals and ways to make people’s lives better. Mitch had never gotten that.
Think again.
Startled by the thought, remnants of the conversation with Mitch at the beach taunted her. You aren’t the only altruistic one in the family. What had Mitch meant by that remark? Before she could dwell on it longer, she finished changing Leo. Settling him in his crib, she played with him for a few minutes. She was already pushing the constraints of her lunch hour, but she didn’t care.
“This is all so confusing.”
Leo stared up at her, his eyelids drooping.
“You have a daddy,” she whispered. “And I have my husband back.”
But did she? Would the chasm between her and Mitch ever be bridged? Did she want it to?
It was a decision she would have to make soon, for all concerned.
Once Leo dozed off, Zoe forced herself from her place by the crib. For once, meetings and agendas and doing good didn’t excite her. If she wasn’t so booked, she’d call the office and inform them that she wouldn’t be back. But she had an obligation to the town.
Hoping her mother had escaped to her studio, Zoe bit back a groan to find Samantha waiting for her, seated on the living room couch.
“Mitch left his camera behind.”
“You know where he lives.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s living somewhere else?”
Zoe silently counted to ten. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”
“You never do.” Samantha rose. “You’re afraid he’ll leave again.”
Her accusation wasn’t much of a revelation. Anyone who knew Zoe well knew how she felt about her husband traipsing across the globe. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Samantha skirted the coffee table. “I don’t think so. Something is different with Mitch.”
“Yes. He’s injured.”
“No. It’s more than that. Of course, Leo has already grabbed his heartstrings, but I sense something more profound.”
She had to agree with her mother on that point. There was a change in Mitch. Their conversation at the beach had been eye-opening. Mitch had cared for a young refugee boy. Someone who wouldn’t advance his career. Acted more like...Zoe when she was bent on helping a cause.
The idea baffled her. Yet made her proud.
Zoe grabbed her purse. “I have to get back to the office.”
“You can’t run from this, Zoe. Mitch will get better. And he will remain in your life, one way or another.”
Why, after all these years, did her mother have to be so perceptive?
And why did the chills coursing down her spine make her question everything she thought she knew?
Right now, though, she needed to fill her mind with something other than her messy personal life.
* * *
BY 4:00 P.M., Zoe had successfully completed her entire schedule, except for the final meeting, which she was actually looking forward to. Nealy Grainger and Jenna Monroe were coming in to discuss Zoe’s latest charity event, a fund-raiser for the food bank.
She straightened up her desk, tucking notes in files and placing a pen in the cup holder, when the phone buzzed and the door opened simultaneously.
“It’s just us,” Nealy said as she swept into the room.
“Being completely rude by barging in,” Jenna added as she followed.
“It’s fine. You’re my last appointment of the day.”
Nealy pulled a notebook from her leather briefcase. “Saving the best for last?”
“Always.”
“We just need to finalize some details,” Jenna confirmed.
“I have my final list.” Zoe handed a copy to each of the women.
“Number of invites, check. Decoration theme, check. Time and location, check.” Nealy looked up. “Why did you even hire me?”
“Because I may be the idea person, but you’re the best party planner in town.”
Nealy gri
nned. “This will be a very tasteful, very successful fund-raiser.”
Her words soothed Zoe.
Jenna perused her section of the list. “Appetizers and drinks are good. Everything we already talked about. Comfort food to remind donors where they came from and how much others need their help.”
“I spoke to the folks setting up the food bank and they’re thrilled to have all the exposure. We’re two weeks out, but Mr. Michaels, the director, told me to call if we need anything.”
Nealy flipped through the pages of her notebook. “I have his contact number. I’ll call him tomorrow and make arrangements to take one last walk through of the space we’re using.” She tapped a finger on her chin. “Have you thought about using some sort of visual aid to show the guests how the food bank works?”
“I have.” Zoe popped up from her chair and hurried to a bookshelf. She grabbed a thick catalogue, opened it and placed it on the desk where Nealy and Jenna rose to look as well.
“This catalogue is full of different shelving units and containers and just about anything needed to store the goods we’ve been collecting for the bank.” She flipped through until she found the page she’d flagged. “This three-shelf unit would be perfect to place just inside the door of the gymnasium as the guests enter. I was thinking about having a couple of the high schoolers already working the program stand beside the unit and answer any questions.”
“Good idea,” Nealy said. “Can I borrow this?”
“Sure. I’ll order the unit ASAP and we’ll get it delivered next week. Afterward, we’ll add it to the collection room.”
“Awesome. One more thing to cross off my list.” Nealy slashed her pen to paper in a flourish.
“I really want this to be a success and draw new donors,” Zoe told them.
When she had been running for mayor, she’d had conversations with single parents, but one woman in particular had resonated with her. The woman had three children, and while her children qualified for the state-funded lunch program during the school year, it wasn’t enough to cover weekends when her paycheck didn’t stretch far enough to buy extra food.
Zoe remembered those days. Samantha, so immersed in her painting that Zoe had to be creative when it came to planning meals, especially since most of the food was from a can. The woman’s plight had struck a chord and she’d been determined to help somehow. Once elected, she’d approached the town council who was one hundred percent on board with the plan. The food bank was going to be housed at the high school, used as a community project for students and made available for anyone in Cypress Pointe who needed it.
