Frowning, she ate silently for a couple of minutes. Jon was enjoying sitting there with her.
“In all other respects, developmentally, Abe’s either right on track or ahead of his age group.” Lillie’s words, when she spoke again, eased him even more. “He squats for long periods when he plays, walks up steps unassisted, but still one foot at a time. He grasps crayons with his fist, but draws legible lines more than he scribbles. Scribbling is more likely what you’d see in someone his age. He can balance on one foot. He opens doors by turning the doorknob....”
She didn’t need to tell Jon about that. He’d almost died when he’d seen his son heading out to the
front yard the week before. He’d since installed a dead bolt on their door, with permission from their very supportive landlord, Caroline Strickland.
Nodding, he took another bite of his sandwich. The thing was almost gone already.
“A lot of what I do involves play, even with my patients at the clinic,” Lillie said, still making progress on her salad. “Yesterday, Abe played with this pillow toy Bonnie has for the two-year-olds. It has big zippers and buttons on it and is fun for the kids, but it also helps me assess if a child is developmentally on track. And it begins to teach children how to dress themselves.”
“How do I get one of those?”
Holding her fork midair, she blinked as though changing her train of thought, and he realized he’d interrupted her.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I’ll ask Bonnie where she gets them.”
Nodding, he motioned for her to continue.
“Abraham was able to button and undo all of the buttons, and to master the zippers, too,” she said, “which is in keeping with his age group. He seemed to be really enjoying himself.”
He’d see that Abe had one at home, then. Right away.
“What I’m noticing is that Abraham struggles when there are a lot of people around him. It’s the only thing that comes together for me.” Jon dropped his hands to the table and focused fully on the gorgeous woman sitting across from him.
She was his ticket to Abe’s success.
He trusted her to know what was best for his son—at least where this tantrum thing was concerned.
“The lobby in the day care that first time I met you was so chaotic, everyone hurrying to get on with their day. When we were in the park, that big group was passing by. Yesterday he’d been sitting alone on his mat when all of the other kids came rushing over to join him for snack time. Today, Bonnie said that they were going into another room to watch a cartoon movie and Abe’s tantrum started as the kids all ran to the door.”
“He loves cartoons.” Not that Jon let the boy spend too much time in front of the television set.
“It wasn’t about the movie,” Lillie said. “Or, I’m beginning to suspect, about being left at day care, either. Abraham struggles with coping with large groups of people. Have you had him out in public much?”
He had to think about that. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been something I’ve given conscious thought to. But I don’t avoid taking him out in public, either.” At least not until recently, when he started worrying about these sudden and unexpected tantrums.
“It’s okay, Jon.” Lillie’s touch against the back of his hand was fleeting. Gone in an instant. And it affected him more than it should have.
He wanted her to do that again. To touch him.
“It’s not uncommon for a single father to avoid taking his child out in public. Men are more anal than women about needing to maintain control, about fixing every little problem the second it happens, and it’s easier to do that when you can control the environment. Which you can do at home.”
There was some truth to what she said.
The waitress was back, asking if they wanted anything else. She left the bill at Jon’s elbow. Lillie reached for it, but he grabbed it before she could get her hands on it. “I’ll get this.”
“I asked you to dinner.”
“To talk about my son.”
She reached for her purse. “Then at least let me pay my half.”
“Let me get this, Lillie, please.” He looked her straight in the eye. He didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important to him to pay her way, but he knew that it was.
“Okay, but only if you’ll let me make dinner for you one night this week—even if I have to drop it off at your house.” Her expression was dead serious.
And lovely enough to catch his breath.