“And Jon tells me that you already have your home set up for the care of a young child. You’ve got a crib, toys, food. It’s childproofed. You clearly care for her, and she loves you. Erin, you are who’s best for her.”
“But . . . ” But what? She couldn’t argue with their logic, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. “Don’t I have a choice?”
“Of course, you do.” Sophie smiled in a way that was probably meant to put her at ease. “But I also know enough about you from talking to Corey’s family that you want the best for Clara.”
So, everyone had ganged up on her. Erin clamped her lips shut and glanced from Jon to Sophie and back again. Fine. She’d take Clara home tonight, but she wouldn’t like it. Not one little bit. She might even stop in Corey’s hospital room and give him another piece of her mind. The jerk deserved it.
Chapter Five
Erin clung to the worn-out child as she hustled away from Jon and Sophie. Instead of hurrying home with Mik to comfort her, she had to go home and prep for a busy three-year-old. Mik was not going to like that and would likely take it out on Erin. Why did it seem she was never in control of her own life? Even on his death bed, Corey was controlling her.
“Erin, wait up.” And Jon, the traitor, was in cahoots with him. So much for the belief that childhood buddies are lifelong friends. She didn’t slow, but let him catch up, and soon they walked side by side, but she felt a million miles distant from him. Talking from miles away made no sense, so she ignored him.
“I understand this is hard on you.”
That she couldn’t ignore. She came to a dead stop and glared at him. “Oh, you do? You understand nothing. You weren’t abandoned by the two people you’d loved most in the world.”
He flinched as if she’d punched him. Good.
“You haven’t had others constantly throwing wrenches in your plan. Did you know I’m starting my own bookkeeping business? I’m sure potential clients will understand when I show up with a child in tow.”
“I see you haven’t lost your sarcasm.” He dared to smile.
And that just made her angrier. “Oh, I’m just getting started. I was moving on, Jon. I was finally putting him behind me, maybe planning to date again, and now—”
Clara released a cry for “Mommy,” and Erin patted her back. “It’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.” This poor child. How was Erin going to make her understand that Mommy and Daddy were never coming back?
She hurried away from Jon, but with his long legs, he quickly caught up.
“I’ll hire you.”
“You? Well, that makes it all better then. I might be able to buy food for the girls with what your account will bring in.”
“I’m trying here, Erin.”
Yes, he was. And this situation wasn’t his fault. She sighed while rubbing her hand in circles on Clara’s back. Thank goodness she was a placid child, unlike Mik had been.
“And I’m sorry. I’m just . . . angry.” That was a feeling she could easily identify. “But I don’t know who I’m mad at, so you get the brunt of it.”
“I can take it.”
“You always did.” Even back when she and Corey were dating, Jon had acted as a buffer between the two. He should have become a diplomat.
She hiked Clara up on her hip again. This child was getting heavy.
“Want me to take her?”
“Could you?” She’d have to redevelop those Mommy muscles.
She passed off the child to Jon. Clara took one frantic look up to see who held her, then snuggled back in as they kept on toward the waiting room.
“She likes you.”
“At the moment, yeah, but last night, not so much.”
“Last night, she’d just been through pretty severe trauma, and you had a date interrupted.” Which reminded her, someone was missing. “Where’d Sophie go?”
“She’s getting my car.”
“You let someone drive your car?”
“Extenuating circumstances.”
“What about a car seat? You can’t use the one from the accident.”
“Sophie purchased one.”
“Are you sure you two aren’t a thing?”
“No doubt.”
Well, Erin had her doubts. She still believed they’d be good together, then Clara would have two loving parents. The child deserved a mother and a father, not an overly-tired single mom with a teen entering puberty.
The waiting room finally came into view, and Erin immediately sought out Mik. She was bundled up on a double-wide bench, eyes closed. But was she sleeping? At home, she would sleep, probably not well, but definitely better than here.
Erin squatted beside her daughter and pushed hair from her eyes. “Hey, Sixlet, how about we get you home to bed?”
Mik blinked her eyes open and then sat up quickly. She looked down the hallway that led to her father’s room. “Is he . . . ”
She looked to Joyce for affirmation, then said, “Not yet.”
“I have to stay with Daddy.”
“But . . . ” But what?
What was the right thing to do? Make Mik go home? Should Erin stay here with Mik and Clara? Should she take Clara home where she could sleep and eat? A normal person would apply common sense and know what to do.
Erin had never been normal. Anxiety, that too-familiar foe, zinged through her nerves, and heat flashed through her bones.
“We’ll stay with her.” Joyce approached Erin and knelt beside her but thankfully did not touch her as so many others would do. “You take Clara home. She doesn’t need to be here.”
“Thank you.” Erin heaved out a breath, grateful for this woman who’d demonstrated the true meaning of mom, unlike her own mother. Joyce not only understood Erin’s eccentricities, she accepted them as part of who Erin was.
“You ready?”
Erin looked up and back at Jon carrying not only Clara, but the diaper bag. He didn’t realize it, but he was a natural.
If not Sophie, some other woman out there would be lucky to snag this bachelor and the cuddly child. Erin had every intention of playing matchmaker until he broke down and realized he was marriage and father material.
And then she’d be free of Corey forever.
* * *
This kid-sitting thing wasn’t for sissies. Clara was a small child, but she was still a dead weight, and whatever was in this diaper bag had to weigh fifty pounds. Jon would never look at a mom the same way again. They were superheroes, just without a cape and a spangly uniform.
He walked beside Erin, whose bluster had finally worn down. Her feet shuffled on the unforgiving hospital floors as if they didn’t want to take another step. Not that he blamed her one bit. Corey had dumped on her big time.
Corey wasn’t the only one; Jon was just as culpable. His exodus from Erin’s life wasn’t that easy to explain. He did have his reasons, but looking back now, they’d simply been excuses to avoid heartache again.
If she only had a clue what he’d once felt for her.
Corey would advise him to stop living in the past. Yeah, Corey had somehow become wise in his last months of life. Just in time for God to call him home.
A rogue tear slipped from Jon’s eye. He thought he’d shed them all over the past twenty-four hours. Man, he was going to miss that guy.
They exited the hospital through large revolving doors, and Sophie was waiting out front. Sophie. Always reliable. Intelligent. Big-hearted. Beautiful Sophie. If things were different, they could have been a couple. Friendship would suffice.
Jon may not be marriage material, but maybe that would make him a better friend going forward. Erin had needed him when Corey left her, and he hadn’t a clue how much until today. Things would be different now. He’d be there for her in whatever capacity she needed. He wasn’t going to fail her again. He’d keep his promise to Corey. And to himself, no matter how much Erin tried pushing him away.
* * *
Half in a stupor, Erin walked up the now snow-free s
idewalk to her home. Yesterday’s April blizzard only showed remnants of what it had been. Apparently, the temps had reached sixty today. Not that she’d known, having been cooped up in the hospital half the day. What she needed now was a good long sleep so her brain would function tomorrow.
She dug through her purse searching for keys. Naturally, they’d found their way to the very bottom. She finally grasped them and pulled them out, only to send them flying into a patch of snow. Seriously?
She tromped toward them, but Jon held out an arm.
“I’ll find them.” He smoothly handed over Clara, who was just beginning to wake up, and set down the diaper bag, then waded into ankle-deep snow, with expensive shoes. And to think he used to brag that he’d be known as the tennis-shoe wearing lawyer. Apparently not for dates, though. Sophie had to mean more to him than he realized.
“Found them!” He held up her key chain and hurried back. He kicked off the snow from his shoes as he inserted the key then turned the doorknob. “Home, sweet home.” He gestured inside.
“I play!” And just like that, Clara seemed wide awake. She squirmed from Erin’s arms and toddled toward the box of toys Erin stored in her living room.
“Uh-oh.” Jon grimaced as he stepped inside.
“Is that official attorney-speak?” Erin elbowed him. “For ‘It’s time for me to leave.’?”
“Would you like me to stay?” He began closing her front door.
She shook her head. “Nah. I’ll feed her and wear her out.” Hopefully. “Are you heading back to the hospital?”
“As soon as I drop off Sophie.” He shrugged. “I need to be there with him.”
“I know. I’m glad you remained friends.” Even if it was at her expense.
“I’d like for you and me to remain friends.”
She chuckled at the absurdity. Yeah, he’d helped her today, but that was one day out of a thousand. “Well, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
“Erin . . . ”
“And I won’t hold you to bringing your business to me. I don’t want your pity. I’ll survive. I always do.” She gestured toward the door. “But I do appreciate your help today. And Sophie’s.” She nodded to the car. “She’s waiting.”
“Right.” He took a step toward the car, then turned back. “I messed up, Erin. I shouldn’t have abandoned you when Corey left, and I’m not going to make that same mistake again. You won’t go through this alone. And that’s a pinky-swear promise.”
With that, he turned and hustled toward his car. A rare feeling nudged its way past her emotional defenses. Hope. But she quickly forced it back down because when the things she hoped for didn’t come through, it hurt a lot more than if she hadn’t hoped at all.
Instead, she’d focus on reality that could be tangibly grasped. Like that curly-haired blondie sitting amongst her toys on the carpet, playing quietly. She was so very different from Mik, who’d been a whirlwind since she was born. Seeing her so quiet and still in the hospital had been like watching someone else’s daughter.
The child would now be going through puberty while dealing with her father’s death. Oy! How was Erin supposed to parent that?
She looked up at the ceiling. “Really, God? I choose to start living again, and this is what You give me? I can’t do it. You know I can’t. What do I do now?”
Her gaze flicked to the child playing peacefully, clueless that her world had just tilted beyond repair, and sat down and played with her.
Then sang with her.
And read her books.
And after the tenth reading of Go, Dog, Go, Clara fell asleep, and Erin tucked her into the portable crib.
Then it was time for research. This child lost both parents at once. Erin had no clue how to talk about death to a teenager, much less a three-year-old, so she turned on her computer and started searching. There was a lot of advice online, but the common thread was, keep it simple and honest. Don’t try to sugarcoat it with euphemisms. Don’t be afraid to use emotion.
Ha!
And respond to whatever the child’s emotions were with comfort and reassurance.
In the morning, she’d call Debbie and ask her advice as well.
* * *
Ding! Dong! Propelled Erin upright. Where? What? Erin blinked her eyes to focus and took in her surroundings. Office. Research. She’d fallen asleep in her office chair?
Turning her sleep-stiffened body, she glanced at the clock to the left of her desk. Ten a.m. already, and not a peep from Clara? What if the accident had done more harm than the doctors thought?
She heard what sounded like a doorknob turning and bolted from the chair. Someone was breaking in!
Grab something!
She snatched a book from the desktop and peeked out the office door toward the front door. It was opening. Clutching the book in her right hand, she raised an arm above her head and shouted, “Get out!”
A dark-haired head peeked around the open door. “Erin?”
“Jon! You almost gave me a heart attack.” She lowered the book to her side as Jon stepped in followed by Mik, who hurled past Erin to her bedroom. Oh, no. “Is he gone?”
Jon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The red-blotched face and swollen eyes told her what she needed to know. Even she could decipher those mannerisms. And even she knew that her old friend needed a hug, so she forced open her arms and let Jon in.
He gripped her tightly and heaved sobs, and Jon wasn’t a sobber. He wasn’t even a crier. She’d never seen him with his heart so broken. Finally, he stepped back and rubbed an arm over his eyes and his nose. “I’m gonna miss the jerk.”
But was she? Shouldn’t she feel sadness right now? Shouldn’t she be hurting like Jon? Corey’d been her friend long before they married, and then they’d been married for nine years. Shouldn’t she feel something for him? Debbie would tell her not to force the feelings, they would come naturally. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the ice queen, as Corey once called Erin.
She may not feel but was aware enough to know her daughter needed her right now, so she gestured toward the couch. Jon silently sat and stared out a sunlight-infused window showcasing weather they expected in April.
Jon peeked from the corners of his eyes and managed a weak smile. “Planning to take me out with your Bible?”
“What?”
He nodded toward her right hand that still carried the book she’d picked up in self-defense.
Her Bible.
She shrugged. “Can you think of a better weapon?”
He laughed, then quickly sobered. “How can I laugh when Corey’s gone?”
“It’s okay. Healthy even.” Advice she could give because she’d read it in her research last night.
On the way to Mik’s room, she heard happy babbles coming from the master where she’d temporarily placed the porta crib. Clara was okay. Whew. Hopefully, the happiness would last.
She then knocked on Mik’s door. No answer. She knocked again.
“Go away!”
That wasn’t happening. Yes, her daughter needed alone time to process her father’s death, but more so, she needed to know her mother wasn’t going to abandon her.
She knocked again. “I’m coming in.” And she slowly opened the door. Her teenager was reclining against her headboard, looking far younger than her thirteen years, clutching Luna, a multi-colored stuffed dragon, to her chest. A gift from Corey when Mik was Clara’s age.
“Oh, honey.” Erin joined her daughter on the bed and pulled her in tight. Mik didn’t resist.
She stroked her hair, something Corey had always done that Mik loved. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Mik sniffled. “You’re glad he’s gone. He treated you rotten.”
Not untrue, but also not the memory Erin wanted to leave with Mik. She borrowed from what Jon had told her. “But he’d changed. He was sorry. And besides, he always, always loved you and would have done anything for you.”
“Right. Everyt
hing except keep our family together. And now he’s abandoned Clara too.”
What was it she’d read last night? She searched through the files of her brain until she found something that would fit. Don’t argue. Let the child feel. Let them get out their emotions, tell their story. It wasn’t wrong. It just was.
She continued stroking Mik’s hair, wishing she had tears to share. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry.” And then she quieted, letting her daughter cry until the sobs turned to infrequent shudders and finally silence. She lay her daughter back in her bed, tucked Luna in the crook of her arm, then covered up both daughter and dragon.
This was only the beginning.
How was Mik going to feel about Clara—whom she heard chatting in the room next door—staying here temporarily? And about Corey wanting Erin to be her legal guardian? Erin couldn’t predict her daughter’s feelings, so she’d have to wing it.
Oh, she hated winging it.
Which meant now was a good time to get some answers from Jon.
Chapter Six
Jon sat on Erin’s living room couch, staring out her front window at the now snow-free lawn. How could Corey be gone?
One second, he’d taken a deep breath—and Jon swore he saw Corey grin—and then his earthly heart stilled. Now he was painting sunrises and sunsets alongside Jesus. Jon couldn’t wait to take in tonight’s sunset!
He heard a door close behind him, and another door open, then the happy babble of Clara. She’d been so quiet, and he’d been so self-absorbed, he’d forgotten about her. He drew a hand down his damp face, looked back, and didn’t even try to muster a smile.
But then Clara toddled into the room snuggling a stuffed, orange crocodile. Had to be a gift from Corey. Who else would give their child a crocodile?
She rounded the couch and held up the pet to him. “Chomper’s hungwy.”
“Chomper’s hungry?” He set the animal on his lap and petted its soft fur. “We better feed him, then.”
“Her.” Erin said behind him.
“Her?” He looked back.
A Beautiful Mess Page 5
