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And she’d believed him.
“She’s pregnant, Lillie.”
Pain shot through Lillie’s lower stomach. She stared at Kirk, her mind completely blank.
“The baby’s mine.”
“How far along is she?” She should be feeling something.
“Three months.”
He hadn’t ended the affair.
“I wanted you to hear it from me.”
She nodded. Made sense.
Braydon Thomas—named for Lillie’s father, who, along with her mother, had been killed in a car accident when she was nineteen—kicked against her, the feeling faint, almost like air bubbles, in spite of the fact that she was at thirty-two weeks’ gestation.
“She asked me to move in with her.”
“She knows you’re married.”
“Yes.”
The girl had no scruples. No ethics.
“I told her yes, Lillie.”
“You’re married,” she said again, numb. Fueled by whatever force it was that got her through the hard times, she sat there.
“I know.” His brows drew together and his eyes shadowed. “I feel horrible about this but she loves me and I love her.”
One usually asked for a divorce before falling in love and starting a family. She’d have liked to point that fact out to him, but didn’t see any good that would come out of doing so.
“Is that where you go when you don’t come home at night?”
She’d kicked him out of her bed when she’d found out about his affair—until she could welcome him back with an open heart.
“Yes.”
What more could she say?
“It’s not as if you’re head over heels in love with me,” he blurted into the silence.
He was right. She’d married him because she cared about him deeply. Because she loved his father and Gayle. The family they all made together. Because they had so much in common, enjoyed being together. Because they’d wanted the same things out of life. Because he’d been her first lover and she’d found him incredibly attractive.
She didn’t want her marriage to end. But she couldn’t live with infidelity. Couldn’t be in a relationship without trust.
She couldn’t settle.
“I’m not going to file for divorce,” Kirk was saying. “You’ll have full insurance coverage throughout the rest of your...term.”
He was having another baby. Presumably a healthy one.
“Leah has her own insurance,” he said, continuing to fill her silence with information she didn’t want.
And had to have.
“I’ll still be paying the bills, the house is all yours, the car...”
“I cover my own car payment,” she reminded him, just to keep the facts straight. She paid the utilities on the house, too. Kirk might live like a wealthy man, but the money belonged to his father.
The elder Henderson kept his son on a tight budget. For Kirk’s own good, Lillie had discovered.
“Braydon’s medical bills are going to be exorbitant,” she said. “We’ll have co-pays.”
His upper lip puckered. “Do you really think it’s wise to run up bills when the doctor says there’s no hope? Why put ourselves in debt, or put him through all kinds of tests, if there’s nothing they can do?”
“Until he has the tests, we don’t know for sure that there’s nothing they can do.”
This was her field of expertise now. She spent her days advocating for and providing for the needs of children who were suffering in a long-term care unit at one of Phoenix’s largest children’s hospitals. She was there during treatments, to see that the patient suffered as little as possible, to make certain that environments were best suited to the comfort of the child. To be soothing when pain was impossible to avoid.
But with her degree, she was qualified to work in schools, in the court system, even at funeral homes to help children cope with the trauma of losing loved ones. She was trained to make sure that everything possible was done for the good of the children. Her own included.
With a heavy sigh, Kirk stood, hands in his pockets again, his mostly untouched drink on the table.
“You haven’t said anything about me moving in with Leah.”
“I don’t want you home with me if you don’t want to be there.”
“You’re okay with it, then?”
“No, Kirk, I’m not okay with my husband moving in with his pregnant lover,” she said, her shaky voice evidence that she must be feeling something. She stood, too. “How could I possibly be okay with that?” she asked, tears in her eyes as she finally faced him. Stood up to him.
“I’m also not foolish enough to believe anymore that you want me or our marriage, and I know that you always get what you want.”
That didn’t come out as she’d meant it to. “I...don’t want you in my home wishing you were with someone else. Thinking about someone else.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Lillie.”
She believed him.
And two months later, on the day Braydon breathed his last, she filed for divorce.
CHAPTER TWO
Present day
JON SWARTZ KNEW everyone in the room was looking at him—with horror not admiration. He might have cared. If his heart hadn’t been fully engaged with his red-faced little man. Two-year-old Abe was clearly not planning to have a good time at day care that Thursday in October. The boy’s screams had reached at least eighty decibel levels—a feat even for him.
“Noooooo!” The shrieks were continuous.
Jon, struggling to pry his son’s small but surprisingly strong arms from their locked position around his neck, was speaking continuously, as well. “It’s okay, son. It’s okay.” But he was fairly certain that Abraham Elias Swartz couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t even hear himself.
Pumpkins bearing smiling faces hung on the walls around them. A larger lit up jack-o’-lantern sat on the counter behind which sat a young woman with a frown on her face. Four women with various-aged children stood in front of him.
“It’s okay, son,” Jon said again.
He had to be at work in less than an hour and could not afford to be late. Jobs with flexible hours for students who were also single parents in a town as small as Shelter Valley were not easy to come by.
Holding on to Abe’s butt and back with one arm, he reached up to pull his son’s hands down from his neck with the other—disengaging the death grip without bruising the toddler’s tender skin.
“Abie baby, let go. Daddy wants to talk to you,” he said directly into his son’s ear.
“Nooooo!”
Tears soaked Jon’s neck. He knelt down, putting the boy’s feet on the floor.
“Noooo!” Abe picked his feet back up, kicking as Jon tried to take hold of one of the boy’s ankles and put his foot back on the floor.
What in the hell was he going to do?
When he’d first brought Abe to Little Spirits Day Care a couple of months before, his little guy had whimpered a bit, but he’d been happily engrossed in playing before Jon had made it to the door.
“Noooo!” A tennis shoe caught him in the groin, taking Jon’s breath away. Abe’s red short-sleeved shirt had come loose from the beige cargo pants he’d chosen from his drawer that morning and the skin on Jon’s arm was sticking to his son’s sweat-slicked back.
“Abraham,” he spoke again in the boy’s ear as soon as the pain in his lower region dissipated enough to allow conversation. He spoke more firmly this time. As firm as Jon got. “Daddy has to go and you have to stay. It’s not negotiable.”
Abraham kicked. And wailed.
Jon picked him back up, encased once again in a death grip.
“Let’s go in here.” A female voice sounded from just beside him.
An angel’s voice?
With a hand on his elbow, a jeans-clad woman led him through a door off the day care reception room—a door that had been closed every other time he’d been there.
Abraham quit kicking and screaming long enough to look around.
“Hey, little guy.” The woman’s smile was warm, her tone nurturing, as she offered a finger toward Abe’s hand.
The boy snatched his hand into his chest and whined—a sure sign that more histrionics were on their way.
“My name’s Lillie.” The beautiful, long-haired brunette who’d rescued them from the day care lineup apparently hadn’t received Abe’s imminent tantrum memo.
“Noooo!” Abraham said, the word breaking on a wail. Jon would be damned glad when his son’s vocabulary progressed beyond the three or four words he’d been using clearly to express himself over the past six months. Even a slight progression, a one-word addition—yes—would be nice.
“The itsy bitsy spider climbed up...”
The woman started to sing. Abraham’s cries were building back up to full force—and the strange woman was singing.
Standing in the small room with a cluttered desk and a couple of chairs, Jon had no idea what to do. Who the woman was. Or if he should have automatically followed her just because she’d told him to do so. At least in here Abe wasn’t upsetting the other kids.
The toddler’s fingers were digging into Jon’s neck as Abe engaged in full-out wailing.
The woman continued to sing. Her voice was good. He’d give her that. And rising in decibels equal to Abe’s. But...
“Down came the rain and...”
Abe stilled long enough to turn around and look at Looney Lillie.
“Out came the sun and...” Her volume lowered but she didn’t miss a beat.
The toddler stared at the strange woman. Jon did, too. Who the hell was she?
Jon had never seen her before. But she had the most compelling violet-blue eyes.
“Climbed up the spout again.”
Letting go of Jon’s neck Abraham pinched his little fingers together on both hands and, holding them out in front of him, twisted them together.
“That’s right,” Lillie said, matching her thumb and index fingers from opposite hands and switching them back and forth in a crawling motion. She started to sing again.
Abraham watched her, his little fingers moving. By the time the song was done he was sitting calmly on Jon’s hip—looking around as though waiting for the adults in the room to figure out what they were doing so he could get on with his day.
“Thank you.” Jon didn’t know what else to say.
Lillie smiled, rolling up the sleeves of her white oxford. “Abe and I met last week,” she said. “Didn’t we, buddy?”
Abe stared.
The slender woman, only a few inches shorter than Jon’s six-foot height, held out her hand.
“I’m Lillie Henderson.”
“Jon Swartz,” he said, meeting her gesture with his free hand. And...getting a stab to his gut. It had been too long since he’d touched a woman’s skin. In any capacity. “You work here?”
“Yes and no.” The woman’s smile was unwavering. And all-encompassing. He just didn’t have time to fall under her spell as his son had done. He had to get to work.
“I’m a freelance child life specialist,” she said, as though he knew what that meant. “I have a small office at the clinic in town, as they pay the largest part of my salary and take up the brunt of my time, but I work out here at the day care and with some other private clients in the field, as well.”
“In the field?” He didn’t have time to be ignorant, either.
“Doctors’ offices outside of the clinic, the funeral home, schools. I go anyplace a child might need support getting through trauma.”
He nodded. And noticed that the entire time she’d been talking, she’d been softly rubbing the top of Abe’s hand.
