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Probably, but it really didn’t matter. This was as friendly as they were going to get.
“Excuse us,” she said to Niall. “I don’t want Anna to wake from her nap and find us missing.” She firmly quelled Desmond’s protest and marched him back to the house, feeling Niall MacLachlan’s thoughtful gaze all the way.
“I HAVE TO REEXAMINE my whole life,” Rowan’s mother told her. “Did your father ever love me? I think back to conversations and get this jolt. Maybe he wasn’t thinking and feeling anything like I believed he was. That vacation we’d planned where he suddenly had to stay behind and work. Remember? We went to Ocean Shores? Was it a woman? Were there other women all along? He completely refuses to talk to me. ‘Think whatever you want,’ he says, as if that’s any answer!”
Rowan knew she was supposed to offer sympathy and understanding. Sitting on her back porch with the phone to her ear instead of mowing the lawn the way she’d intended, she was feeling low on sympathy and even lower on understanding. If only Mom didn’t call every day or two, reiterating the same miseries.
Mom and Dad’s separation had come as a huge shock to Rowan. Even worse was the way they both used her to bad-mouth the other one.
Dad had started to date from practically the moment Mom moved out, and that was the part that was infuriating her. Hurting her, too, probably, Rowan realized, but the whole subject had become an obsession.
Her best tactic would be to start dating, too. Dad might not want to be married to her anymore, but his pride would be stung by the sight of her seemingly enjoying herself with a succession of men. Rowan would have suggested it—her mother was an attractive woman who’d kept her figure at fifty-two—except Rowan could totally understand Mom never wanting anything to do with a man again. A desire she frequently proclaimed, and one Rowan shared.
“Mom, I really have to go,” she said.
As if she hadn’t spoken, her mother went on and on. Her father was making himself look ridiculous, dating women half his age—which Rowan thought was a slight exaggeration. Dad’s latest was maybe mid-thirties, bad enough. “Why don’t you talk to him?” Mom suggested. “He might listen to you.”
A car was pulling into the driveway, and Rowan’s heart sank when she recognized it. Glenn and Donna Staley, her parents-in-law, had come calling.
“I don’t care who Dad dates,” she told her mother, perhaps more brutally than she should have. “I don’t want to meet them, I don’t want to hear about them and, honestly, Mom, what difference does it make who he dates? You’re getting a divorce.”
“You blame me for feeling hurt by his foolishness?”
Rowan sighed. “No. Of course not, Mom. But I’d love to see you focus on yourself now. On finding what makes you happy.” As long as it was something besides calling her daughter to bitch about Dad. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go. Glenn and Donna are here.”
“Oh? You didn’t mention that you were expecting them.”
“That’s because I wasn’t,” she said, possibly a little tersely. Not that she necessarily would have told her mother they were coming, but she wasn’t thrilled to see them.
She ended the call to her mother as the couple reached the bottom of the porch steps.
“I don’t see the children,” Donna said, her disappointment obvious.
“Anna is napping, and Desmond is playing with a neighbor boy at his house.” Rowan had been pleased to find another boy exactly Desmond’s age who lived less than a block away, and delighted when the boy’s mother suggested they plan a few playdates.
Glenn frowned. “Do you know these people?”
“You left Anna alone in the house?” exclaimed Donna. “Dear, is that a good idea?”
Rowan dug deep for patience. Donna loved the kids, but worry also made her judgmental. “The back door is open. I’ll hear her the minute she wakes up. And since she can’t reach the lock on the front door, she can’t get out even if she’d do something like that, which she wouldn’t. And yes, I went with Des the first time to Zeke’s house and had coffee with his mother. She’s very nice, a stay-at-home mom.”
“You know we’d have happily taken him today if you wanted to have time on your own,” her mother-in-law said.
Did she sound disapproving? She often did, but Rowan wasn’t sure this time. She knew they weren’t happy. Of course they were sorry to miss seeing Desmond. They hadn’t wanted Rowan and their grandchildren to move out of their home, and even though she had needed to escape, Rowan understood how they felt. They’d grieved terribly after Drew’s death, and having Anna and Des close had been a huge consolation for them.
Rowan was proud of her smile. “I wasn’t looking for time on my own. Desmond needs friends his age. A new one is welcome.” She picked up the phone and stood. “Would you like a glass of lemonade? Why don’t we sit out here so we don’t wake Anna.”
“I thought you told me she’d given up her naps,” Donna said. “Are you sure you want her to sleep? Won’t she fight bedtime tonight?”
“Some days she doesn’t nap, but she’s still in transition. I figure if she falls asleep on her own, she needs the rest.” Rowan kept the smile fixed on her face. “Lemonade?”
“I suppose.” Glenn snorted. He was eyeing the broken run-off pipe for the roof gutters. “Your grandmother didn’t keep this place up, did she?”
Couldn’t he pretend to be a little excited for her? Rowan didn’t let herself sigh. No; Glenn took pride in being blunt. He’d made no secret of his opinion of her moving out on her own with two young children when she had the option of being taken care of.
They’d both become more critical since Drew died. Rowan had been reasonably sure they never quite approved of her. The first thing Donna had ever said to her was, “What kind of name is Rowan?”
Drew had insisted that Rowan was being too sensitive when she told him she didn’t think his parents liked her. “That’s just Mom and Dad,” he said, sounding resigned.
Rowan had clung to the fact that they did adore their grandchildren. And they had been generous in taking her and the kids in after Rowan realized she would have to sell the house to cover the debts Drew had left. They’d refused her offer to pay rent and rarely even let her buy groceries, which had allowed her to put some money away. How could she not be grateful, even if some days they’d made it hard? If only they’d respected her right to parent her own children the way she thought best, she wouldn’t have felt so desperate to get away from them. Even so, Rowan had been ashamed of the fervor with which she’d seized the chance to move out.
Perhaps, she thought now, if she’d involved Donna in the redecorating plans that would have appeased her.
But rebellion immediately sparked in her. Was it so bad to want to make the house totally hers and Anna’s and Desmond’s?
Was it so bad to wish she could she could restrict their contact with the kids to an occasional outing and too many packages under the tree on Christmas morning?
Rowan didn’t know whether to hope that Anna would sleep for a long time and they would give up and go away, or that she’d wake up and give them a grandchild fix. She had a gift for softening them both. Rowan worried more about Des, who they seemed determined to correct and mold, chide and stifle. More than Anna, he was slated as the replacement for their son. In the last year, he’d gone from being happy to see Grandma and Grandpa to shutting down and getting quiet in their presence. It infuriated her that her confident, bright, happy kid had to feel that way. Even if she’d loved living with Donna and Glenn, she’d have moved out at the first opportunity for Desmond’s sake.
“Why don’t I come in and help pour that lemonade?” Donna said. “And I can take a peek to see what you’ve done to the house. I’ll be quiet, but you know dear Anna wouldn’t want to miss our visit!”
How could she say no, even though her mother-in-law didn’t know how to keep her voice low? Even though it meant hearing again that Donna didn’t understand how Rowan could possibly want to live in a place that was so dark and dingy. Why, it wasn’t fair to the children, when they’d had such a nice room at Grandma and Grandpa’s.
If only Drew and she hadn’t both grown up in Stimson. If only Gran had left her a house somewhere else, far, far away.
Minneapolis, she thought wistfully. Florida. Anywhere at all but here.
CHAPTER THREE
NIALL GROANED AND PULLED his pillow over his head. It muffled the far-off wails, but didn’t entirely mute them.
What the hell was wrong with that little girl, and why wasn’t her mother fixing her? The kid had been squalling for half an hour or more, and it was three o’clock in the morning. She’d probably awakened the entire neighborhood. He knew exactly when she’d started, because her first screams had inserted themselves neatly into his recurring nightmare about the toddler with the dandelion puff of hair soaked with blood.
Okay, he hadn’t minded that she’d woken him up. If only she hadn’t kept crying and crying and crying.
He should get up and close the window. He could turn a fan on instead. Bonus: it would provide white noise to block those pitiful sobs.
With another groan, he cast aside the pillow, got up and pulled on the pair of jeans he’d discarded on a chair. Not bothering with a light, he chose a T-shirt by touch, then fumbled his way from the bedroom. Outside, he saw that several lights were on in the main house. Good to know. At least Mom wasn’t such a heavy sleeper she’d been ignoring the poor kid.
He rapped lightly on Rowan’s back door, bewildered by why he was doing so. What could he do?
Through the glass inset, he saw her approach, her expression wary until she snapped on the outside light and recognized him. Anna clung to her like a monkey, legs wrapped around her mother’s waist, arms probably choking her.
As Rowan opened the door, Anna’s sobs quieted to hiccuping breaths as she turned a wet, hectically flushed face to Niall.
“I’m so sorry.” Rowan looked distraught. “I should have made up my mind sooner what to do, before she woke you up.”
Anna’s face crumpled. “What’s wrong?” Niall said hastily.
“She has an ear infection. I’ll have to get Desmond up…”
“He’s sleeping?” he asked in disbelief.
She made a face. “Trying. We need to go to Emergency.”
“You’d better get dressed.” He was having to raise his voice to be heard above the renewed sobs.
“Yes.” She looked hopeful. “I don’t suppose you’d hold her?”
Oh, man. Why hadn’t he stayed in bed?
He’d been trying not to notice that she wore only a T-shirt that reached midthigh. It had a cartoon character on the front, faded by frequent washings. The thin cotton knit fabric clung to her body. Her daughter’s legs, clamped around her, had pulled the hem up almost high enough for him to see whether she wore panties beneath it or not. The speculation was enough for his body to harden despite the squalling kid.
“Uh…sure. If she’ll come to me.” He hesitated, cursing the common decency that had gotten him out of bed and over here in the first place. “Do you want me to stay with Desmond? Or…” He looked at the hysterical little girl. Despite deep reluctance, he said, “Maybe I should come with you. Drive, so you can concentrate on Anna.”
“Do you mean that?” Rowan’s eyes welled with tears.
Hell. Now she was crying, too.
“Of course I do. If it would help.” He found himself holding out his arms and hoping the little girl would go into them, even though normally he would consider that a fate worse than death. “Go on. Get dressed.”
With an especially piercing sob, Anna catapulted herself at Niall. She latched on tight, buried her face against his neck and cried. The rhythmic sobs reminded him unpleasantly of a siren he longed to turn off. Rowan gave him one fraught look, then fled.
Feeling way out of his depth, he bounced the girl a little. “Hey, hey. I know you hurt. We’ll get you all better before you know it. Come on, honey.” He began to walk. He’d heard new fathers talk about walking the baby endlessly. Maybe it would work here, too. “Crying doesn’t help. I think it’s making you feel worse.”
She wasn’t impressed by the argument. She continued to sob, he continued to walk and hold that small, hot body close. It seemed like forever but was probably less than five minutes before Rowan reappeared, dressed in a haphazard way, Desmond at her side. Niall had wondered where Sam the dog was; he hadn’t showed himself when Niall crossed the yard or entered the house. Now he peered cautiously around the door frame but didn’t come any closer.
Smarter than they’d given him credit for, maybe.
They took Rowan’s car since the kids’ safety seats were already in it. Niall drove while she sat in back between them. In his desperation, he exceeded a few speed limits and rocketed to the load/unload zone in front of the emergency entrance at the hospital.
“You take Anna,” he suggested. Please. Please take Anna. “Desmond and I’ll follow you once I park.”
“Thank you.” Rowan clambered over her daughter, unbuckled her and carried her into the maws of the hospital. Niall and Desmond sat without moving or speaking for a moment in the absence of sound. Niall didn’t know about the kid’s eardrums, but his were ringing.
“She gets lots of ear infections,” the boy finally said, matter-of-factly.
“Does she.” Niall gave his head a shake and put the car back into Drive. Maybe he and Desmond could walk really slowly.
Would the doctor only give her antibiotics, or would they be able to do something to take her pain away? A shot of morphine, maybe?
Desmond was able to unbuckle his own seat belt. However, when Niall circled the car to him, he said, “Can you tie my shoes? I can’t see.”
“Sure.” Did he know how to tie them? Niall didn’t remember how old kids usually were when they learned. Sure enough, when he knelt on the pavement he found the laces straggling. He could feel a bony ankle, too; no socks.
Tying this little boy’s shoelaces, Niall had a feeling of unreality. What was he doing here? How had this happened? Why hadn’t he stayed in bed?
I don’t get involved, he thought desperately, but here he was. No. He wasn’t involved, for God’s sake, he was only giving an hour or two to help out a young mother. And it didn’t hurt to stay on his landlady’s good side, right?
A small hand tucked itself confidingly into his. “You’ll be able to find Mom, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, rising to his feet. “We’ll find Mom.” His smile came out of nowhere. “Hey, all we have to do is follow the sound of Anna crying. We could track her down in the deepest, darkest forest. Never mind a hospital. That’s easy.”
“Yeah.” Desmond suddenly sounded cheerful. “She is kind of loud, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yeah.”
They walked across the parking lot, lit by sodium lamps. They seemed to be alone out here. The faint crunch of their footsteps was the only sound.
“I’m glad you came.”
Niall looked down at the face turned up to his. Bizarrely enough, he realized that, in a way, he was glad, too. Rowan’s kids could be pains in the butt, no question, but they were okay. Even sweet, in their own way. And Rowan had needed someone tonight. He’d seen it in her eyes.
This isn’t personal, he told himself. I’m a cop. Cops protect and serve. That’s all I’m doing.
All the same, he hoped like hell no other cops happened to be lurking in the emergency room to see him. His reputation as the ultimate loner would be shot.
The glass doors slid open. Ahead he could see Rowan, turning away from the check-in counter, Anna clutching her and crying, but more quietly now. Sadly. Rowan saw him, and the weariness and distress on her face eased. Niall had the strangest sensation under his breastbone. He couldn’t begin to identify it, and didn’t try very hard, only led Desmond over to his mother.
“She’s heavy. Do you want me to take her?” he offered.
He had the thought that this could be atonement for his part in what had happened to that other little girl, in the bank parking lot.
ROWAN WANTED TO CRY AGAIN, which was ridiculous. She hadn’t cried in years, not even when Drew had died. For weeks her eyes had been so dry they burned, and she’d wondered if something was wrong with her. But now, Niall’s kindness was doing something to her. Weakening her.
“I’m okay.” There were only five other people in the waiting room, thank goodness. A man who was leaning over and clutching his stomach, the woman with him watching anxiously, her hand on his back. A scrawny, twitchy, tattooed girl with a bruised, puffy face. And a woman who might be in her forties who was cradling a ten- or twelve-year-old boy close, her tenderness and worry palpable. Rowan went to the closest chairs and sank gratefully down, holding Anna in her lap. Desmond climbed onto the chair next to her, and Niall sat on his other side.
“Did they say how long the wait would be?”
She shook her head. “It shouldn’t be long, though. Since there are so few people here.”
She’d seen him assess every single person in the room, from the receptionist to the ten-year-old, the minute he walked through the sliding doors. Now his gaze lingered on the tattooed teenager who looked as if she’d been beaten up.
After a minute he said, “Desmond says Anna gets these a lot.”
“Yes. The antibiotics always work, but she has a miserable day or so first. I keep hoping she’ll outgrow this.” She rubbed her cheek against her daughter’s hair. “So far, no cigar.”
“There must be a reason.”
How like a man. There was a problem; there ought to be a fix. And he wanted to know—now—why no one had found it.
Obscurely, she found his attitude to be comforting. Maybe only because someone else cared.
Not fair, she reminded herself. Donna and Glenn cared. Except she could tell they thought she was somehow at fault. Because she’d passed on some frailty that ran in her family—certainly not in theirs—or because she let the kids eat junk food too often, or should be cleaning wax out of Anna’s ears, or in some unknowable way wasn’t a good enough mother. The implication was always there.
Niall’s quiet, reassuring presence, the way he was looking at Anna with worry, his implacable tone—as if the doctors were the ones to blame, not her—it was so different, she found herself feeling steadier and, at the same time, less self-reliant. Weaker, she thought again.
“I’m not sure they even look. I don’t know. Desmond’s never had a single ear infection.”
