Close To Home (Westen Series) (16 page)

Enjoying seeing her so relaxed and happy—even at his own expense—Clint leaned against the counter to watch her finish loading the food into the basket. “I’m glad you’re taking the day off to play with us. It’s about time you quit hiding from me.”

She paused, her hand halfway in the basket. A pleasant pink filled her cheeks—from anger or embarrassment he wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean? I haven’t been hiding,” she asked.

“Oh yes, you have, Emma. Every chance you get to run to one of your jobs the past week, you’ve taken off like a rabbit at a dog race.”

“I need the money, Clint.” Her back straight, she continued filling the picnic basket with opaque bowls. “With you helping watch the boys and working on the house, and Mama’s friends keeping her busy, I’ve had an opportunity to earn extra money. I want to be able to repay you for the supplies for the remodeling as soon as possible.”

Clint’s good mood vanished. “You don’t need to repay me. I already told you that.”

“Well, I want to. I don’t like owing people.” She focused on the task at hand, not quite meeting his eyes. Her hand shook slightly as she laid the last bowl into the basket.

“You’re scared.”

“No, I’m not.” This time she looked right at him. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and her body stiffened. Her hands clenched the canvas picnic basket.

He walked around the kitchen counter and pulled her hands away, wrapping his arms around her. “Either I scare you or where this thing between us might be heading does.”

She shook her head no, but he felt her tremble in his arms.

“I’ve got news for you, lady. It scares me too.”

“It does?” She asked and the surprise in her voice pleased him.

“Yes, it does.” With a finger under her chin, he tipped her head up. “Let’s not worry about the long term effects just now. How about for today, let’s just plan to have a fun day. Anything else that happens between us, we’ll take it one day at a time. Okay?”

“Okay.” She gave him a shaky smile, but seemed calmer with his confession.

Clint let go of her and peeked inside the canvas picnic basket. “Any fried chicken in here? I remember your mother making the best fried chicken at the town socials when I was a kid.”

“Yes, Mama fried chicken before the Miller sisters picked her up for the quilting circle luncheon. It’s right there on top next to the brownies the boys insisted we bring.” She smacked at his hand that dived in and came out with the container of chicken. “Get out of there!”

Clint dodged her hand and pulled out a crispy golden leg. He winked at her as he took a bite then closed his eyes to savor the tender, juicy flavor. He licked his lips, remembering the late summer picnics he’d loved as a kid on school vacation at his uncle’s. When he opened his eyes again, he found Emma staring openly at him. He winked at her, enjoying the blush that once again filled her face.

“You could’ve warned me about Wiggles,” he said just to watch her blush deepen.

A smile played on her lips as her color heightened. “I believe I tried to tell you, but you were too busy being his buddy to get the facts of the situation, Doctor.”

“And...?” he prompted.

Her lips parted in a mischievous grin. “Oh, the look on your face when he showed you his pet was worth watching.”

“You have a wicked sense of humor, Emma.” He picked up the basket and headed out the door. He enjoyed her uncontrolled laughter all the way to the car.

* * *

Emma leaned against the giant oak in the cool afternoon, watching her sons sitting on the edge of the dock, flanking Clint. All three dangled their legs out over the Mohican River at a deep spot where fish liked to pool, their poles bobbing up and down. As they took turns casting their lines into the water, Clint leaned first to one side to answer Brian’s questions, then he’d acknowledge something Ben told him.

She smiled to herself. The man’s patience and stamina seemed limitless. Since the moment they arrived at the riverside park, he’d been busy with the boys in one way or another. First, they played a rousing game of tag with Clint being “it” long enough for both boys to be chased, caught and tickled to their hearts’ delight.

Remembering how the game ended with Clint tackling her, Emma smiled. He’d rolled to the side at the last second before they hit the ground so she landed on top of him. As the boys piled on to tickle her, Clint sneaked in a quick, warm kiss that left her as breathless as the game.

Then they all sat for the picnic lunch she’d prepared. Clint and the boys managed to devour all the fried chicken, macaroni salad, chips and brownies. Stuffed, they’d stretched out on the old quilt she’d spread on the ground. She and Clint talked quietly while the boys took a short nap. Then the trio wandered off to fish.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the cool breeze blow the leaves above her. This was what her life should be like. A relaxing Saturday in the park, her children and husband romping through the leaves and sharing quiet time together over fishing poles.

She sighed with the sadness touching her soul. Who was she kidding? This day was a stolen moment for them all. A dream day. The man who so lovingly sat with her sons was not her husband and not their father. The man she’d married—the man who had fathered her two beautiful babies—had destroyed her dreams.

The rumble of male laughter and little boy giggles drew her back to the trio by the river. She smiled again then took herself in hand. Why sit here brooding about a man and a situation from her past life she couldn’t change, when a perfectly good man was available to her today? Correct that, she told herself. If anything, time and experience had forced her to put the fairy tales behind her. Clint was not perfect, but he was handsome, friendly, and interested in spending time with her and her sons. A lot more than she’d hoped for in her future.

With the decision made to not waste anymore time brooding, she shoved herself off the ground and began gathering the remains of the picnic. Behind her, she could hear the boys’ enthusiasm as they fished.

“I got one!” Brian squealed.

“Don’t let go of him,” Ben yelled.

Clint told Brian with patient enthusiasm, “Reel him in slowly. That’s it, Bri. Careful. You’re doing fine.”

“He’s coming in.” Ben’s voice rang with excitement.

“I can’t hold him,” Brian cried.

She turned and watched her youngest son reel in his first fish. She lifted her camera to capture the moment as Clint slipped a net below the fish and encouraged Brian to keep winding on the reel.

Emma squeezed off a couple of shots. One of Brian pulling the fish out of the water, one of Clint and Ben putting the fish in the net. Another of the boys hugging.

Finally, Brian held up the fish before Clint removed the hook. “Look, Mommy! Look, I caught a fish.”

Emma took another picture. “I can see. He’s magnificent, Brian.”

“Let me get the hook, out Brian.” Clint held the small wiggling fish, and carefully showed the boys how to safely remove a fishhook.

She doubted they’d remember this first lesson on fishhook removal since they were both jumping up and down like a pair of excited Mexican jumping beans.

Smiling at her sons’ happiness, she finished packing up the food and quilt then loaded them into the rear of Clint’s Jeep. She chuckled to herself as she heard Clint try to convince both boys that the fish should be released into the river.

“I caught him and I want to eat him,” Brian complained.

“But Doc Clint, we want to cook him for dinner,” Benjamin whined along with his brother.

“Look guys,” Emma listened to Clint explain, “one fish won’t feed everyone, but if we put this little fella back in the water, he can make lots more baby fishes. Then next spring, we can catch more fish and have a big dinner.”

This must have satisfied both boys, because the next thing Emma heard was a small splash as Clint tossed Brian’s fish in the water. She leaned against the jeep to watch Clint and the boys gather the fishing supplies.

At least Clint was busy gathering the supplies.

Her heart jumped in her throat as her sons exchanged a conspiratorial look she’d seen a thousand times before.

She stood at attention, every muscle tensed. The universe opened up and she knew with the clarity of a psychic exactly what her boys were about to do.

“Oh God, no!” she whispered.

“Brian! Benjamin!” She lurched forward, calling their names, her feet covering ground like a sprinter off the blocks.

Then as if seeing it in slow motion, while Clint’s back was turned, she watched first Brian, then Benjamin, jump into the cold water of the Mohican River.

“
O
h my God! Clint! They can’t swim!”

Even as Emma dashed toward the spot where her sons had disappeared, Clint had already jumped in after them. Just when she reached the dock, he thrust a sputtering, shivering, soaked Brian into her arms, followed quickly by a matching Ben.

She hugged them tightly. Her heart pounding in her ears, she wasn’t sure whether to scold them or cry right along with them. Scolding won out.

“What were you two thinking? What in the world possessed you to jump in the river? You know better.”

Both boys stood limply beside her. Their heads lowered, they dripped a large pool onto the dock, their teeth clattering, while she alternately hugged and softly rebuked them.

“Lecturing them can wait, Em. Get the quilt. Dry them as best you can,” Clint ordered her as he heaved himself onto the dock.

His words and tone conveyed the need for swift action. The want-to-be nurse in her clicked into gear. This river ran cool most of the year, and colder on a cool day in the fall such as this one. A chilly river dunking could develop into bad colds at the least, pneumonia at the worst.

Leaving the boys shivering next to Clint, who rapidly rubbed their arms and bodies to warm them, she ran to get the quilt and hurried back to wrap both boys in its warmth.

“Get the rest of the stuff, Em. We need to get them home quick.” Clint gathered both boys in one giant bundle and hustled them to the jeep. Hoppy ran behind the trio, barking at Clint’s heels.

By the time Emma threw their fishing tackle into the back, Clint had the jeep’s engine running, the boys wrapped tightly into the rear seat and their puppy at their feet. She slid into the passenger seat, then reached back to touch each sons’ face. They felt cool, but not cold. Years of hospital work told her head that they’d probably be fine. Yet her mother’s heart wouldn’t rest until they were both tucked into their warm beds, safe and sound.

Both boys’ eyes filled with tears that nearly undid what little composure she had left.

“We’re sorry Mommy,” Ben said.

“I just wanted do get my fish back,” Brian cried.

“Don’t say another word. Either of you. I’m so furious with you both...I can’t even discuss this now.”

Exasperated, Emma shook her head, turning to watch the road ahead. Any further words stuck in her throat, somewhere near her heart. The shaking started in her legs and hands first, then quickly spread to the rest of her body as realization and the adrenaline effects of fear coursed through her veins.

Oh my God, they could have died! In a matter of minutes, she could’ve lost them both and her world would have ended. She held her hand to her trembling lips, trying to fight the tears burning her eyes. She glanced back at their arms and sighed again. “What about their casts, Clint?”

A cool hand settled on top of the one in her lap. “It’ll be all right, Emma. Our first priority is getting them warm and dry. We’ll worry about their casts after that.”

The tight set of his lips let her know his thoughts ran the same path as hers. If not for his quick actions both boys could have drowned or been swept away. For once, she didn’t have to deal with this near catastrophe on her own. The reassuring strength of his hand gently squeezing hers eased her fears just a little.

Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten he was her adversary. Now he felt like her closest ally.

He let go of her hand and dialed the cell phone he kept charged in the car. “Harriett?” he said when she answered. “Can you meet us at Emma’s? The boys have had an accident. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

When they pulled into the drive, Emma ran past Harriett on the porch, while Clint collected the double bundle of boys from the jeep. She explained what had happened to the always practical older woman as they headed up the stairs. Harriett went in search of plastic bags while Emma started the warm water in the shower. Words between her and Clint weren’t necessary. Each took a little boy and began peeling off the wet clothes.

“So you two fell in the river?” Harriett asked when she returned with bags for the boys’ arms and another one for the soaked clothes.

“We jumped, Miz Harriett,” Ben announced, and Brian grinned along with him.

“I don’t think I’d be announcing that so happily, guys,” Clint warned them as he finished wrapping the casts in the bags. He gave them a meaningful look, which sobered them quickly.

Emma’s anger finally snapped. She clenched her hands into fists and planted them firmly on her hips. “That’s right. You two crossed the line today. There will be no more fishing trips until you both learn to follow rules—and jumping into the river is a great big no.”

“That’s not fair.” Brian whined.

Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re mean.”

“Excuse me?” Emma grabbed them both by their chins and forced them to look into her eyes. “What you did was not funny, or cute. It was just plain dangerous! You’re lucky I don’t decide to get a willow branch and tan your hides. That’s what your grandfather would’ve done. I don’t know what’s gotten into you two lately, but this behavior stops today. Do you hear me?”

Both boys nodded solemnly.

The other male in the room had the good sense to keep his mouth shut this time, too.

Emma took a deep breath to still her shaking fingers. “Now let’s get you into the shower. You’ll be lucky if you both don’t come down with colds.”

She handed their wet clothes to Harriett. As she helped first one naked boy into the shower and then the second, Clint started to leave.