He smiled. “I’m not the boss of the peanut butter sandwiches, but Max likes you. He thinks you have very good taste in blue beds, so I suppose strawberry will be fine.”
“Blue and purple,” Jenna corrected.
“Is there something going on I don’t know about?”
She laughed. “I think this should be one of those special father-and-son moments.” Then she scampered down the hall, drew up a syringe of B12, grabbed her medical bag and waved a greeting to Tom Parker, who was hunched over, scratching his ankles, as she hurried to the door. At the door, she paused for a moment, went back to Tom Parker, whispered something in his ear, then dashed out the door.
“She took her shot?” Dermott asked, as he slathered the strawberry on the peanut butter. Peanut butter sandwich, glass of cold milk.
“Like a trouper. And it’s amazing how quick that B12 took hold. Her granddaughter agreed to stay the night and leave tomorrow rather than this afternoon.”
“Why’s that?”
“I asked her to keep an eye on Leona for a reaction to the shot. Just one night. I figured that would give Leona a little bonus time she probably wasn’t counting on. Oh, and I talked to Leona about buying a computer, so she can have access to e-mail. She claims she’s too old, but I promised that I’d show her how to use it if she decided to get it, and that way she could have almost instant access to all her family, anytime. I explained that the problem with the phone nowadays is that people don’t always have time to talk when someone calls, but an e-mail can be answered at a person’s leisure, and that she could actually write one e-mail and send it out to everyone at the same time, if she wanted. And I mentioned that she could have a camera in it to get live pictures.”
“You’re devious.” Dermott placed the sandwiches on plates and pointed to the pitcher of milk. “You carry that and the glasses, and I think we’re set for lunch.”
“Not devious. Just trying to think of ways to help Leona feel better. Her granddaughter said she was going to ask the whole family to pitch in on the cost of the computer.” She followed Dermott out the door, to the picnic table in the back yard. “Do Frank and Irene join you?”
“Not usually. Most of the time it’s just Max and me. They know we like our time together, and I think after a morning of Max and his high-volume energy, they’re glad to have a little rest.”
“Am I’m butting in? Are you sure Max won’t mind because I could go to the diner.”
“And leave me stuck with strawberry jam on peanut butter? Who’d eat it?”
“But I don’t want to interrupt your time with Max.”
Like the rest of town, but Jenna could never, ever be an interruption. “Trust me, you’re not interrupting. And Max won’t mind. If I thought he would, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
“You’re a good father,” she said, sitting down at the table.
“A good enough father with a pretty damned good kid.”
“Not just good enough, Dermott. Any father who’d eat peanut butter sandwiches every day with his kid is a very good father. Especially when that father doesn’t like peanut butter.”
He looked over at her. “What makes you think I don’t like peanut butter?”
“You told me. We took a break together once, and went down to the staff lounge to grab a sandwich from the vending machine. You accidentally punched the button for a peanut butter and jelly, and you threw it in the trash when you got it because you said you hated peanut butter. You got a ham and cheese instead.”
“You remembered that?” It had happened, and he hadn’t thought of it until now. So why had she remembered something so insignificant about him? Maybe for the same reason
he’d
remembered so many insignificant things about her.
Jenna shrugged. “Of course I remembered it. I had to loan you enough money to buy that other sandwich.”
He hoped she’d remembered for some other reason than that, and he was a little disappointed. But Jenna did sidestep her feelings, didn’t she? So she could have remembered because…Well, he wouldn’t finish that thought. But what she claimed wasn’t necessarily the real reason. And on that thought, he relaxed a little. “Did I ever pay you back?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then I owe you, don’t I?”
She held up her peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. “I think you’ve just paid me back. So tell me, why do you eat something you don’t like? Couldn’t you and Max have ham and cheese sandwiches instead? Or alternate between ham and cheese, and peanut butter and jelly?”
“We could, but this is his favorite and he likes the idea that it’s my favorite, too. So what’s one sandwich in the course of a day?” He studied Jenna for a moment, as she cut her halved sandwich into quarters. There was so much there, so many layers to her. Years ago he hadn’t looked much past the obvious assets, and while they were stunning in ways that the years had only enhanced, everything else about her was stunning, too. Here he was being almost mean to her, yet she was looking for ways to make it all good. “Wash it down with enough milk and it’s not so bad.”
She handed him a quarter of her sandwich. “Try it. You might change your mind.”
“You’re being devious again.”
“Practical. Not devious. Connect one lady with her family on a more regular basis and that’s even better than a shot of B12. Tell one man that if he doesn’t wear socks and continues getting these rashes, then accidentally forgets to wash his hands after scratching it once, he could spread that nasty rash to, well…you know where. Connect that rash to a man’s more sensitive parts and I’ll bet that man puts on a pair of socks next time he takes to the wilds.”
“You told him that? Because he was awfully agreeable for once. And here I thought I was the one who was finally convincing him to mend the error of his sockless ways!” Damn, she was good! And the peanut butter wasn’t half bad with the strawberry, either. Or maybe it was Jenna who made it better. Either way, tomorrow he’d give Max a choice between grape and strawberry. Broaden some narrow male horizons for both of them.
“So, what’s this your grandfather is telling me about a new painting project?” Dermott asked Max, who plopped down at the picnic table and immediately dove into his sandwich.
“Going to paint my bed,” he said, with his mouth full. When he’d swallowed, he continued, “Jenna and I are going to paint it blue and purple. Then we’re going to paint my bedroom walls blue and purple, too.”
“You and Jenna?” He glanced over at Jenna, who gave him an innocent shrug. “Whose idea was it?”
“Hers,” Max replied in all confidence. “She said she likes blue and purple, and so do I.”
“Have you asked her to help you do this?”
He didn’t answer because his mouth was full of sandwich again, but he gave his head a vigorous shake.
“Should you ask her to help, since it was her idea?”
At that, Max shrugged, much more interested in finishing his sandwich and getting to the plate of huge, gooey chocolatechip cookies his grandmother had baked earlier.
“So tell me, Jenna, about your passion for purple and blue,” Dermott teased.
“Actually, the passion is for blue and purple, with blue being the predominant color. Of course, Max may disagree with me on that, and decide he’d rather go predominantly purple. His choice, since it’s his room.”
“And you volunteered to help?”
“Well, not in so many words, but I think I can find some time to fit it into my schedule.”
Then it was Max’s idea. That was amazing, because Max had withdrawn so much after Nancy’s death. With all the abuse he’d suffered from her in those last months, the child psychologist had said it was only natural that Max wouldn’t be so outgoing with people. The psychologist had also said it was natural for Max to be so clingy to him and to Nancy’s parents. They were the only stability Max recognized and trusted. Now Jenna was included in that, and it pleased him more and more each time he saw it. Other people Max knew much better than he knew Jenna had tried to get through to him these past months—parents of friends, friends he normally played with, other people he’d been raised around—and he wanted nothing to do with any of them. But Jenna…
So what if Max was about to turn his bedroom into a hideous combination of purple and blue, or, as Jenna put it, blue and purple? It was an amazing step in the right direction and a huge sense of relief after so much worry.
For the first time in months Dermott allowed himself to feel the slightest touch of optimism. “So, can you let me in on these plans you and Max made?” he asked, reaching over and taking another quarter of her sandwich, and replacing it with half of his.
“Actually, I think Max is the master architect on this project. You’ll have to ask him.”
They both looked over at the boy, who was fist deep in his glass of milk, dunking his chocolate-chip cookie. This felt good, the three of them having lunch like this. More than good, it felt normal—a normalcy he wanted to last.
P
EOPLE
trickled in with minor complaints throughout the afternoon. Some specifically requested Jenna, and others insisted that Dermott treat them. It was a sporadic flow, leaving Jenna not quite so discouraged about her future at the clinic. The truth was, when the clinic was in operation, Dermott did need a nurse, which was a good thing because, more and more, a big part of her wanted to stay in Fort Dyott for a while.
“Have you ever thought about updating to a computer?” she asked as he was heading into one exam room while she was on her way to another. “The old-fashioned way of storing charts works, but there are so many good medical practice programs out there, and I think you could save yourself some time and effort by upgrading your methods.”
“You don’t like my methods?” Dermott asked, giving her a suggestive smile.
“Some of your methods are fine,” she said, a shy smile turning up the corners of her mouth, “but some need a little help.”
“Then help away. You’re free to do whatever you like but keep in mind that at some point you’ll have to teach me and I’m technologically challenged. I like my games on an old-fashioned board that you pull down off the closet shelf and dust off, and I like my music on vinyl. That nice, scratchy needle going round and round on a record gives it a sound you’ll never get on a CD.”
“Not CD any more, Dermott.”
“See what I mean?”
Jenna laughed. That explained his outdated office. It was a preference, and while she didn’t believe that Dermott was as technologically challenged as he wanted her to believe, she did think that his choices more reflected a simpler lifestyle. And she liked that. In fact, she found great appeal in that because she admired the kind of strength it took to buck the system. In his own way, that’s exactly what Dermott did here. He stuck to what he wanted no matter what people said,
no matter what she said,
which made him a man of conviction. “But we are keeping the electricity, aren’t we?” she teased.
Chuckling, he said, “It’s a good thing, in moderation. But there’s also something to be said for getting away from that, too. You know, the nice glow of candlelight.”
Immediately, visions of a romantic evening with Dermott waltzed through her thoughts. They were embracing, kissing, then they were…Nothing! They were nothing because that’s not what he meant and she knew it. But it was still a pleasant fantasy. Jenna cleared her throat, forcing herself back to the conversation at hand. “Problem is, if you get
too
far away, your cellphone won’t work.”
“I thought you had more adventure in you than that, JJ.”
His eyes crinkled with a smile that practically melted her. And with the supply closet positioned right behind them, the way it was, this was getting dangerous. The fantasies fighting their way back in were even more dangerous. So why was she was so attracted, given all her reservations? Given all her convictions?
It was crazy. Didn’t make sense when weighing all the problems they both had. Yet she flirted outrageously with the man. Watched him. Had very sexy fantasies about him. Couldn’t help herself. Even something as innocent as an enquiry about updating to a computer system turned into a pretty obvious flirtation. “So, about that computer…” she said, trying to get herself back on track yet again.
“Want to talk more about it over dinner? Max and I are having canned spaghetti tonight. It’s not gourmet, but Max likes it, and there’s plenty. And I can add garlic bread and a salad and turn it into a special occasion.”
There was that smile again, the one she couldn’t resist. But she had to. Because there was one insurmountable fact here that she wouldn’t challenge in any way…Dermott needed his time with Max. And Max needed that time, probably even more than Dermott did. If anybody understood the hell that a child of an addicted parent suffered, she did. And while Max was still so young, the indelible impression was there. Dermott did have to protect that little boy and she had no place interfering. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. Not tonight.” A good salad from the diner would be fine, then a walk afterwards would top off the evening nicely.
Yes, that salad did hit the spot an hour later. The diner was bustling, and she felt almost guilty taking up a whole booth just for herself when so many people were standing in line, waiting for a seat. People she recognized now. Many of whom waved. It was like the diner where her grandparents used to take her—not so much in looks but in the friendliness. She used to love going there, used to love looking over the menu when all she ever ordered was a cheeseburger and a soda. And onion rings. “Sadie,” she called as the waitress bustled past her. “Do you have onion rings here?”
“With your salad?” the young woman asked, probably wondering why anybody would ruin a healthy meal with a greasy follow-up.
Lately, though, she’d been thinking about her grandparents, wondering how they were. Little things, like the chocolatechip cookies Max’s grandmother made for him reminded her of the sugar cookies her own grandmother had made for her. So many things in Fort Dyott reminded her of the years she’d lived with them. Good years in so many ways, but that had been so long ago, and she had so many regrets. “Yes. Onion rings with my salad. You don’t happen to have sugar cookies on the menu too, do you?”
The onion rings were delicious, but not as good as the ones she remembered. Then, after a brisk pace up one side of the main street then back down the other, Jenna was debating whether or not to expand her hiking horizons over another couple blocks, or go home and curl with up a good romance novel, when her cellphone rang. “Jenna Lawson,” she answered, curious about the incoming number. She didn’t recognize it.
“We have an emergency out at the Charney ranch,” the voice on the other end stated. “Joshua Charney may have a broken leg.”
“Who is this?” she asked.
“Lee Rodgers, ma’am. I’m the police chief in Fort Dyott.”
“So tell me about Joshua.”
“He’s six years old, ma’am. And not responding so well. He’s breathing too fast. I tried to take a pulse on him and it seems fast, too. He’s also pretty pale.”
“Is he crying?”
“No, ma’am. More like he’s staring at the wall.”
Going into shock? “Have you contacted Dermott yet?”
“Can’t do that, ma’am.”
“But the boy needs a doctor.”
Rather than arguing with Jenna, Lee Rodgers told her how to get to the ranch, then hung up. And didn’t answer when she tried the redial, so she called Dermott.
“Callahan,” he answered.
His voice was lazy, deep. So sexy it gave her shivers. “We have an emergency. Child named Joshua Charney. Broken leg, maybe. I think it could be serious, judging from the way the police chief described it.”
“Then they’ll be taking him over to Muledeer. Alisa Charney was Nancy’s best friend, and she won’t speak to me.”
“No. They want me out there right now, and I’m not so sure I should be going alone on this one. I can patch scratches and apply ointment, but if this is a compound fracture…” She reached the door to the clinic at the exact same time Dermott opened it for her. “If they’ve called the police, I’m assuming it’s serious,” she said, still speaking into her phone even though they were practically face to face now.
He handed her a medical bag, and she noticed he carried one, too.
She tucked her phone into her pocket. “What about Max?”
“Frank and Irene will watch him. It’s on the way.”
Max came out the door after Dermott, his face covered with orange spaghetti sauce. “Good color,” she said, as the boy climbed into Dermott’s truck. “Might look good to match that color as an accent to some of the blue and purple in your bedroom.”
Max regarded a spot of it on his shirt and gave Jenna a thumbs-up sign as Dermott climbed into the driver’s seat. “Aren’t you getting in?” Dermott asked her.
“I’ll take my car. That’ll cut off a few minutes while you drop off Max.”
“The road’s tricky out there. Several turns, without road signs. You’ll get lost.” He pulled Max closer to him then gestured to the empty seat. “It’s going to take a good fifteen minutes as it is, and I’m not waiting for you to keep up.”
Rather than arguing the point, Jenna jumped in and they were already flying down the road by the time she got her door shut and locked. Dermott was on the phone to his father-inlaw, telling him to be ready for Max, before she’d fastened her seat belt. “Do you know Joshua?” she asked.
“He and Max used to play together. He’s bigger than Max, though. Big for his age and people forget he’s only six.”
“He likes soccer,” Max chimed in. “We used to be on the same team. He was the captain.”
“You aren’t on the same team now?”
“I don’t play any more, but I used to like it.” Sad words from a little boy who seemed to want to play.
“Why don’t you play?” Jenna asked before she caught Dermott’s scowl.
“The big guy says I don’t have time,” Max said stiffly. “My grandpa needs me more.”
Dermott
was
over-protective, pulling Max out of soccer. It struck Jenna that the boy needed a little normalcy in his life. Of course, that was none of her business. “Grandpas are the important people,” Jenna said. “My grandpa is.”
“Because he has horses,” Max stated, quite emphatically. “Do you help him?”
“I used to.”
“Did you have fun, because I would if I could help your grandpa.”
“Fun” was such an ill-sorted word. When she’d helped her grandfather tend the horses there’d been nothing at all fun about it. It had only become fun later, in her memories. “Yes, I
did
have fun, Max. Quite a lot of fun, actually.”
“And I can ride one there someday and have fun, too.” He nudged his dad in the ribs. “Will you take me there when I’m taller, big guy?”
“How about we talk about it
when
you’re taller?”
Max pulled a pouty face over that answer and slumped down in the seat, arms folded across his chest, his head down. Jenna couldn’t help but feel sorry for him as it seemed his life was only a shuttle between his dad and his grandparents, with nothing in between. No other stops, no friends. At some point Dermott would let up, but right now there was a little boy who desperately needed to do some little-boy things, and her heart went out to him because he was too young to understand Dermott’s fierce need to take care of him.
After they dropped Max off with his grandparents, the next five minutes passed in silence. “I don’t always get it right,” he finally said.
“You mean with Max? I think you’re being a very good father.”
“I know I’m smothering him.”
“Which is natural. I think it’s probably a little self-protection for the both of you, so don’t be so hard on yourself. Things will eventually get back to normal.”
“Normal…whatever that is.”
“Maybe soccer again,” she suggested. “If he wants to.”
“But people talk, and I don’t want him hearing what they might be saying. Not yet. Not until he’s old enough to understand better.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Dermott. Children have this amazing way of understanding much more than we think they do.” She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “And don’t underestimate yourself either, because you’ll know when it’s time to let go a little. If you don’t, I have an idea Max will let you know.”
“When did you get so smart about children, JJ? I live with one and don’t have a clue, and you…”
“I have all kinds of advice without having any practical experience.” Except she’d lived the life, fought the battles, done everything wrong. If there was one lesson she’d learned over the years, it was that experience was the very best teacher.
“You told me not to underestimate myself, but maybe that’s what I should be telling you, because even if you don’t have a lot of experience, you’ve got good instinct, and a nice ability with children. A great empathy for them. I think Max senses that, too. You’d be a good mother.”
“I don’t think so. It’s easy standing on the outside, looking in…giving unsolicited advice. But there are so many ways to mess up as a parent, and with the way I stumble through life, I’d be bound to go wrong in some pretty bad ways. I love children, but they’re just not for me.”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“I don’t think so, not with the patterns I seem destined to repeat in my life.”
“Then it’s a pity, JJ, because I think you have an uncanny way of knowing what Max is feeling even better than I do.”
“I just put myself in his place.” Something she could do so well.
“Which is why you know he wants to go back to soccer.”
“Well, that one’s pretty obvious.” She laughed. “And I have an idea that you’ll be hearing his opinion on the subject from time to time.”
“Time to time? More like minute to minute.”
“So you’ll let him?”
“It’s nice that you’re such an advocate, JJ. Max needs that from someone besides his grandparents and me. So, let’s just say that I’ll think about it.”
“For a five-year-old, thinking about it is the same as saying no. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“I wish Max’s mother had been on his side, the way you are.” Dermott let out a deep sigh, then changed the subject. “It’s around the next corner. And let me warn you that Alisa Charney won’t be friendly to me. She won’t even want me in her house.”
“Because she was Nancy’s friend?”
“Because she blamed me for Nancy’s problems, and her death.”
She wanted to ask more, but he swerved around a curve in the road a little too fast and the truck spun tires on the dirt road. “That’s it, straight ahead,” he said. “And just so you’ll know, I’ll go in, but Alisa will refuse to let me see Joshua, so while I’m trying to convince her that I’ve got to take a look at him, you go on in and start the diagnosis, get his vital signs, make all the necessary assessments. I don’t want to waste any time on this, and Alisa’s going to be pretty fierce at protecting her son from me.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“She accused me of neglecting my wife, JJ. She said that if I’d paid more attention, Nancy wouldn’t have…Nancy was like a sister to her, and I don’t want to subject Alisa to any more grief than she’s already been though.”