Second Time's the Charm
“Ask anything. That’s what I’m here for.”
“You married?” Not the question he’d meant to ask.
She blinked. “No.”
“You said, the other day, that your life was an open book. I’m apparently not much of a reader. You know about me. I know virtually nothing about you.”
And he wanted to know. Which was why he had to ask her.
“I graduated from Montford eight years ago. I married a business major I met my senior year. I’m divorced. And I’ve been back in Shelter Valley, practicing child life full-time, for the past five years. I live alone and am on call 24/7. My choice. Because that’s the way I like it.”
“No children?”
“No.” Something moved in and out of her expression so quickly he couldn’t make it out. Sadness, maybe.
Had she wanted children?
Or her husband had and she hadn’t?
It seemed kind of strange that a woman who knew so much about kids, and who clearly adored them, didn’t have any of her own.
“That wasn’t my question.”
She grinned. “Whose was it?”
Bowing his head, he tried to hold back his own grin, and lost the battle. “Okay, it was mine. But it wasn’t the one I’d meant to ask. Before. When I told you I had a question.” If he sounded anywhere near as idiotic to her as he sounded to himself, he should just hang his head and go home.
“What’s your question?” Grabbing a napkin, she wiped a drop of ketchup from Abraham’s mouth.
“Are we working?”
Frowning, she took a bite of her sandwich. Chewed and swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Right now. What we’re doing here. Is this work?”
“As opposed to what?” She really seemed confused.
Breaking more pieces of bread and hamburger patty, Jon put them on the paper in front of Abraham.
He felt stupid. “I don’t know. Two people becoming friends...” It sounded as though he was hitting on her. Which he wasn’t. At all. Not that he hadn’t noticed how those jeans of hers hugged her long legs and a backside that— No. He was better than that. “Am I a client? I mean, I know you said I don’t have to pay you, but—”
“I’m happy to help you with Abe, Jon. Don’t worry about it.”
He wasn’t worried, exactly. Except when paranoia set in and he thought she might be a spy. “I’m not too sure about protocol for child life specialists.”
His burger was getting cold. He loved burgers. And since becoming a father he only got one a week.
“Are you allowed to be friends with your clients?”
“Not according to the books,” she said, and then shrugged. “And certainly in some situations, life-threatening medical procedures, for instance, I have to keep my professional distance, but in a small town like Shelter Valley it would be impossible not to be friends with my clients. Most of the parents of young children are my age and I wouldn’t have any friends if I couldn’t be friends with them. Or conversely, I wouldn’t have many patients if I couldn’t tend to the children of my friends. I’ve got a skill set, you know, like a plumber or a doctor. If your pipe bursts and your buddy’s a plumber, he comes over to help, right?”
“So you and I—” he gestured toward her with his hamburger-holding hand “—we could be friends. If the idea was mutually satisfying, of course.”
“If the idea was mutually satisfying, yes...” She’d withdrawn a bit. Wasn’t smiling like she had been.
He got nervous again. “Hey, you do understand I’m not hitting on you, right?”
“I wasn’t sure.”