Second Time's the Charm

Although they changed the subject and focused on enjoying breakfast and easier topics from there on out, neither Papa nor Gayle seemed convinced by her assurances.

As she drove home, with their looks of concern seared on her heart, she told herself that she wasn’t damaged, or in any way less whole because she chose to live life alone. Her goals did not include marriage. She’d made that mistake—trying to replace what she’d lost—after her parents were killed, and she knew that it was not the answer to living a joyful life.

Finding a man was not critical to her.

Loving and being loved, in whatever capacity, was her key to joy.

As Shelter Valley loomed closer, she thought of the day ahead. She’d show everyone. She could enjoy her friendship with Jon Swartz and not hold back when it came to the things she did feel. She wanted to make love with him. In the worst way. If he needed a bit of intimate adult companionship, maybe she could help him out. And prove that she was as normal, as capable of interacting on an intimate level, as she thought she was.

And afterward?

There didn’t need to be one, did there? As long as she and Jon both knew, going in, that they were just doing each other a service. In the same way she was helping him with Abe and he was helping her with her house. Shelter Valley was a small town. Even after Abe was adjusted and didn’t need her anymore, she and Jon were bound to run into each other.

Could she handle that if they had sex?

Lillie didn’t know.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ABE SLEPT THE whole hour and fifteen minute drive to the Phoenix Children’s Museum. Jon had kept the boy active all morning so that the two-year-old would nod off in his car seat and thus be fully rested and ready to go when they got to their destination.

Ten minutes inside the place and he knew that it didn’t matter if Abe had just woken from a ten-hour sleep—he wasn’t going to last long in the place. Bright colors were everywhere, hands-on exhibits, things to explore and climb on.

“This is pretty spectacular,” he told Lillie as he took in their surroundings with Abe straddling his hip. Passing the gift shop off to the right of the entrance, they headed down the hall.

“Doin’?” Abe’s voice sounded in Jon’s ear. He almost stumbled. Doing?

“Did you hear that?” He turned to Lillie, who was looking where Abe was pointing his finger. He’d been working with Abe for over a week on the word and, out of the blue, there it was.

Nodding, Lillie smiled, and told the boy about the exhibit. “We need to go up to the third floor,” she said, leading them back toward the elevator. “The exhibits up there are specifically designed for imaginative play for toddlers.”

“You’ve been here before.”

“Many times,” she told him. “First when I was taking my child development classes when I was an undergrad at Montford, then during my practicum and internships, and later, with various patients. The exhibits are geared to different levels of developmental appropriateness.”

Where was their friend Lillie? This woman, spouting developmental appropriateness sounded like a health care professional.

Which was why she was with him, he reminded himself.

She’d been a bit distant on the drive, too, after giving him an initial, blood-warming smile when she’d climbed into the truck. But no more distant than he’d been, he acknowledged. They’d talked about Abe. And work—she’d been inordinately interested in the story about the cracked gas line from the day before and he’d been happy to give her a play-by-play, tacking on a crash course in jelly making to pass the time.

They entered the elevator and rode silently up to the third floor.

“Let’s take him to Ian’s Corner,” Lillie said as soon as they’d exited the elevator. “It’s just inside the pit stop exhibit.”

A pit stop. Someplace to sit and get their bearings. He liked the sound of that. “What’s Ian’s Corner?” he asked.

“You’ll see, Abe will love it.”

“Doin’?” the boy asked again, pointing to an area filled with long noodles suspended from the ceiling. Oh, man. Abe could get knocked over. Or lost. And if he panicked in there...

“That’s Noodle Forest,” Lillie said. “Do you want to go to Noodle Forest?”

Before Jon could express his doubts, Abe said, “No!” quite clearly, wrapping his hands around Jon’s neck.

With a smile for the boy, Lillie rubbed the top of Abe’s small hand and moved on. Jon’s gut tensed. He felt as if he’d just failed some professional child-rearing test. He needed to quit being so overprotective. If Abe fell, he’d stand back up. If he screamed, he’d stop eventually.

As soon as they entered Ian’s Corner, Abe was pushing his feet against Jon’s thigh. “Down, down!” he said.