Wife by Design
Shoving the truck’s automatic gearshift into Park, Grant gave Darin a light punch on the shoulder. “It’s going to work, bro. And in the meantime, you’re going to be pushing a lawn mower with one hand. Just be glad it’s your right one that works.”
With one capable movement, Darin unfastened his seat belt and opened the door to the truck. Grant read the tension in the stiffness of his brother’s upper lip.
“Hey,” he said, a hand on Darin’s paralyzed limb. “We’re in this together, right?”
As long as Darin believed that, they’d be fine. Because Grant wasn’t going to let go. Or give up. Ever.
Darin took a long moment to answer. Grant waited.
“Right.” The answer finally came.
With that, Grant led his slightly taller and broader brother into the front hallway of The Lemonade Stand.
* * *
“LYNN!” THE CRY was a harried whisper. “That man is back.”
Sitting in her office close to the public access door at the Stand, Lynn glanced up from charting a twenty-eight-year-old pregnant woman who’d just been in for a checkup to see Maddie hovering in the doorway.
She frowned. “What man?”
A lot of men wanted access to their residents. The Stand’s job was to keep them away.
“The one who was here before, the baseball-cap-slapping-when-he-walked-in-the-hallway one.”
Ah. Grant Bishop. He was fifteen minutes early.
“It’s okay, Maddie, we’re expecting him. Lila was supposed to tell you.”
Lila McDaniels, The Lemonade Stand’s managing director, made it a point to give Maddie her duties every single morning.
“Oh, that’s right. I just saw that baseball cap and freaked out, didn’t I?” the woman said. “And he’s got someone with him, too. Lynn, is that okay? Does Lila know about him?”
Standing, Lynn wrapped an arm around the pretty woman’s slim shoulders; this morning Maddie wore a yellow Lemonade Stand oxford shirt with their white logo stitched above the breast pocket. “His name’s Darin,” Lynn said as she led the woman out to the hallway. “He’s going to be doing therapy with you during your session and…he’s…special, Maddie. I was hoping you’d spin some of your Maddie magic on him and help him feel welcome.”
“I just like to be around women.”
“I know, but he’s a nice man. He’s been approved to be here, and I’m asking as a special favor,” Lynn said, praying that her assessment of Darin hadn’t been wrong four years before. And that it wasn’t wrong to trust that assessment a little bit now. “You won’t have to be alone with him at all, and if he makes you afraid, you’re to stop Angelica immediately and she’ll get you out of there.”
She could have told Maddie about the newest patient in what was scheduled as a group therapy session but most often consisted of just Maddie. But she hadn’t wanted her to fret—and blow the situation so far out of proportion that she wouldn’t be capable of trying.
Lynn, stopping on the private side of the door leading out to the lobby, put both her hands on Maddie’s shoulders. “You know we’ve all talked about the fact that you don’t want to live your whole life afraid of men,” she said.
Maddie nodded.
“You and Sara have talked about this a lot and you told her that you understood and would try.”
Maddie was frowning. “But I didn’t know it meant now, Lynn,” she said, her voice trembling. “Sara didn’t say it was now. Does Lila know?”
“Yes.” Maddie’s cooperation wasn’t critical to Darin’s opportunity at the Stand, but it was vital to Maddie’s mental and emotional health. “I believe what Sara explained to you was that you can’t continue to live here forever if you don’t try your best to be healthy. We aren’t a hideout, Maddie, and we don’t want the women who come to us to think that we are. As a resident here, you’re an example to them, so you can’t be hiding out, either. That means you have to be able to be around men occasionally.”
“I know, but—”
“Maddie? Look at me.” Lynn waited.