Lillie pushed off and Caroline followed her up the street.
Maybe Lillie was seeing a father who couldn’t deal with the fact that his son might not be perfect.
The thought hit her like a tree limb falling from the sky. Was Jon in denial? Like Kirk had been? Jon didn’t have Kirk’s ego, by any stretch, but he did seem overly obsessed with how perfectly he was raising his son—going on the defensive anytime he perceived she was criticizing his parenting skills. Or Abe.
“I can see where it’s hard, Lil.” Caro was beside her again, speaking loud enough that she could hear her as they rode. “Especially considering the fact that you’re involved with Abe’s father and are growing to care for the boy on a more personal level.”
The words struck instant fear inside her. Caro was validating her own conclusion—she was in too deep.
“...can do is keep a close watch on Abe and if you continue to see signs, if you continue to be convinced there’s hearing loss, have another talk with his father. I’ve only met them a couple of times, but it’s pretty clear how much that man loves his son. He’ll do the right thing.”
Kirk had loved his unborn son, too. Braydon’s conception had had a profound effect on her ex-husband, one that had gone deeper than anything she’d ever seen with Kirk. He’d been in awe, and humbled. The first time he’d heard Braydon’s heartbeat it had been as if Kirk had been reborn. He’d apologized for Leah. And others. Swore to Lillie that she and the baby would be it for the rest of his life. The baby had brought out the very best in the man she’d married but begun to doubt in so many ways.
And then they’d found out how imperfect their unborn son actually was.
At first, like Jon, Kirk had been in denial. And later...she’d never seen a man change so quickly.
Or so cruelly.
She absolutely could not go through that again.
But it didn’t stop there. As Lillie showered half an hour later, donned scrubs and drove herself to the clinic, bypassing the day care completely, she knew that even if Jon came around and did the right thing where Abe’s hearing was concerned, even if Jon was absolutely nothing like Kirk, she still had to cut short her involvement with the Swartz men.
Because if it wasn’t Abe’s hearing, it would be something else. She’d be watching for potential problems every step of every day. He’d get a cold, she’d see lung disease. Have a dizzy spell, she’d see heart failure. Fail a test, she’d see a brain tumor.
She’d drive herself and Jon crazy imagining symptoms, and suffocate the boy in the process, running him off to the doctor far too often.
She was not and never would be a mother.
* * *
JON DIDN’T HEAR from Lillie on Monday or Tuesday. On Wednesday, after hearing in lab about another break-in, he called her.
This one had been slightly different. The sliding glass door had been broken. Either the thief was getting careless, or desperate, or both.
Lillie didn’t answer his call. He tried again when he parked his truck in the employee parking lot at the cactus jelly plant before going in to work. Again, no answer. He called the day care, to check on Abe, of course, but intending to ask if anyone had seen or heard from Lillie. He was probably overreacting. Lillie was busy.
Or possibly not wanting to take his calls. Chances were she was just fine.
It never hurt to check.
“Abe’s doing fine now, Jon,” Bonnie Nielson said as soon as he identified himself.
“Now?”
“He’d been crying, not a tantrum, just crying, which is unusual for him.”
Abe didn’t cry much—unless he was sick. Wrapping his finger around the keys that were still in the ignition, he started the truck. “Does he feel hot?”
“No, he’s fine. He’s inside playing ring-around-the-rosy and laughing so hard he’s making his teachers laugh.”
He turned the ignition back off.
“He was asking for Lillie,” Bonnie told him. “She was scheduled to meet with a parent this morning, and as soon as she got here, she went in to see Abe. He ran straight to her and the tears stopped.”
That answered one question—Lillie was fine.
“Is she still there?”