More Than Words: Stories of Hope (16 page)

“A
re you sure you’ll be all right?” Forest stood in the middle of the kitchen in his newly constructed track home, shuffling his briefcase from one hand to the other.

“Stop worrying. I have a bachelor’s degree in early childhood education as well as library studies. I had reading groups for special-needs children at my old library job. I can care for one small boy.”

Anna settled into the breakfast nook, planting herself in a seat beside Joey’s booster chair to keep from shaking the kid’s overprotective father. If he gave her one more list of ways to pacify a four-year-old…

“We’re going to have a great time. Aren’t we, sweetie?”

Joey slapped his spoon against the bowl of oatmeal and grinned. “I don’t wanna eat this. Bleck!”

Forest slammed his briefcase on the oak table. “That’s it. I’ll cancel—”

“Don’t even think about it. He’s only testing me.” Geez, no wonder the other nanny had quit. Somebody needed to lighten up. “I’ll keep him so busy he won’t have time to act out. Go.”

“If you’re sure.” He still didn’t leave, but let his hand rest on the baseball mitt hanging on the post of his kitchen chair, rubbing the leather like a talisman.

“I’m positive. You’ve left a pageful of phone numbers.”

Anna tucked aside her resentment. Forest was only displaying textbook signs of an overanxious parent and yes, there were special concerns for Joey, but the best thing Forest could do for his son was treat him as normally as possible.

Still, his concern was rather sweet. She gentled her scowl into a smile. “He’ll be okay once you leave. If I have a question, I’ll call. I promise.”

He glanced at his watch. “You’re right, and court starts in less than an hour.” He ruffled his son’s hair. “Be good for Anna.”

“Scoot.” Anna waved her hand to shoo him away.

“All right, I’ll get out of your hair, braid, whatever. Don’t worry about supper. I’ll grill something for us all when I get home since you’ll probably be worn out from the full day.”

She froze. Was that a dinner-date invitation?

Forest grabbed his briefcase from the table and scooped his jacket from the chair, slinging it over one deliciously broad shoulder. “Anna?”

She was startled out of her daze. “Yes?”

“Thanks.” The screen door swooshed closed behind him.

She twisted her braid through her fingers as she stared out the bay window. Elbow on the table, she watched him saunter along the walk toward his truck. Such a bold, confident stride.

Pivoting away, Anna focused on the son instead of the father. “Well, sweetie, how about we clean up the breakfast dishes. You can help.”

He scrunched his nose but didn’t argue.

“After lunch, we’ll walk to the park and feed the ducks.”

“Ducks? Yay!” Joey catapulted out of his seat and into her arms with such trust her heart twisted.

“That’s right. We’ll take some bread along.”

Anna passed him a damp cloth while grabbing one for herself, and the two of them cleared the dishes and wiped the table.

“Good job, Joey,” she said when they’d finished.

She tossed their cloths into the overflowing laundry basket on top of the washer. She would show her father
and
Forest Jameson. She’d aced her way through a degree in early childhood education as well as library studies, unable to tell which
she enjoyed more, until a wise college counselor advised her to apply that love of children to her library positions.

She was a well-educated, seasoned pro now.

How much trouble could one kid be?

One well-behaved, chipper child would have been simple.

The tiny tyrant looking too cute in his overalls and train-conductor cap wasn’t chipper, sweet or even remotely well behaved. Why was he so cranky?

Anna had tried everything to keep him entertained at home for the morning. They’d hung out in his amazing backyard, full of playground equipment specifically designed for Joey. But he hadn’t wanted any part of it today. She’d moved on to story time, singing and dancing.

After lunch, they’d walked to the duck pond as promised. The edge of the pond had a brick border where they could sit and let the ducks come right up to them without getting their feet wet.

“Yuckie!” Joey flung the bag of bread into the pond. “The bread smells gross.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Anna sighed as the bag floated away. She couldn’t leave it behind and risk a duck choking on the plastic, but she couldn’t leave Joey unattended either.

“Come on, Joey. We’re going in.” She hitched him onto her hip and waded into the pond. Her muslin dress soaked up the cold water as she grabbed the bag.

Joey smacked the water, cheerful for the first time in an hour. “This is fun!”

“Yes, it is, sugar.” And
sooo
chilly.

Still, she considered hanging out in the muddy pond all afternoon. She would gladly sacrifice her favorite dress, patterned with Shakespearean verses and flowers, if it would keep Joey from fussing and testing her further.

Anna glanced down at her wet dress and read,
What fools these mortals be
…No kidding. She’d topped that list of foolish mortals by wading into a duck pond to scoop out a bag of bloated bread.

“The fishes are tickling my ankles!” Joey squealed.

“Cool, kiddo!” Maybe she could work in a quick science lesson. The plan seemed sound and the kid definitely needed to be kept active, but he also needed a nap, and she did
not
want Forest to hear about their impromptu swim.

His next instruction list would rival the Magna Carta.

Anna scanned the clusters of mothers and children scattered around the playground, having picnics and making memories under leafy bowers.

She recognized some of the families, but no one seemed to have noticed her and Joey. She should be able to make a clean getaway.

Her gaze snagged on Mrs. LaRoche. Joey’s ex-nanny had brought her granddaughter to the park. The blue-haired bat
waved to Anna. She stifled a groan and waved back. The know-it-all would probably turn cartwheels at Anna’s lack of success with Joey and report it to Forest.

Anna hugged him closer. “We need to go home now—”

His face scrunched. “I don’t wanna—”

“To get a treat!”

“A treat? Graham crackers?”

“Two of them.” She reminded herself it wasn’t a bribe, merely positive reinforcement.

A rose by any other name
…Shakespeare’s words mocked her.

Anna trudged forward, her clothes sponging up the water. Joey hadn’t fared much better.

By the time Anna rounded the last corner on their way home, she was truly worried about Joey. Something wasn’t right. She pressed her wrist to his forehead, then against his warm stomach. He wasn’t just irritable. He was sick.

Guilt chugged through her. He must have been coming down with something, and dragging him through a chilly pond hadn’t helped. “Do you feel bad, sweetie?”

Joey wriggled against her. “I’m sleepy. I wanna nap.”

The kid
wanted
to go to sleep? It must be serious.

“Poor fella. No wonder you’ve been grumpy.” She cuddled him closer, his damp body shivering against her. Anna walked faster up the driveway toward the one-story ranch-style house. “We’re almost there. You can curl up in your own bed.”

“Thank you, Anna.” His chubby arms clutched tighter.

An odd ache squeezed her chest. He
needed
her. Her world consisted of books, think tanks and causes. No one had ever needed her before. That hug meant more to her than a dean’s list semester.

She pressed a kiss to Joey’s forehead. He really was feverish. Logic told her it probably wasn’t anything more serious than a common virus. That didn’t make her feel one darned bit better.

Joey opened his mouth. She tensed, preparing herself for more whining or worse yet, an ear-popping tantrum.

He spewed his lunch all over her.

Joey crinkled up his nose. “Yuckie!”

“Yeah, sweetie,” Anna agreed. “Defintely yuckie.”

Several hours and countless loads of laundry later, she surrendered to fate. She’d tried to call Forest, but he was in court, and then when he’d called to check in, she’d told him she’d finally gotten things under control. Sort of. The pediatrician’s nurse had thought that as long as Joey was keeping down liquids, there was no need to worry. Even so, Anna felt out of her league.

She cradled Joey, who was now asleep, wrapped in a blanket with just his tiny boxer shorts on. There wasn’t a clean T-shirt or a pair of jeans left in the house, since he’d thrown up on everything in sight. She’d had such great plans for starting their reading tomorrow with the Seedlings print-and-Braille books
she’d ordered express mail off the Internet last night. With luck Joey would be feeling better then. Funny how plans for this child were already filling her life.

She pushed back a hank of sweaty hair from her brow, picked up the kitchen phone and dialed from memory. “Dad, could you bring me a change of clothes, please?”

Forest whipped into the driveway with uncharacteristic haste just as a car pulled away from the curb. He slid the truck into Park and looked at his house, his haven.

It was still standing. Anna and Joey must have survived their first day together.

Working without the stress of worrying about his son had lightened his mood. A call home during a court recess had reassured him that Anna seemed to have everything under control, even though Joey was not feeling well.

She’d been right. Hiring her as a temporary sitter was the perfect solution for everyone. Meanwhile, Forest told himself, he’d exaggerated his response to Anna the night before.

He stepped into the spotless kitchen. The humming washer and dryer greeted him in the otherwise silent house. The nursery monitor was on the table, light glowing, but no grumbling from his son filtered through.

Peace? Or the calm before the storm?

“Anna? Joey?” Forest called over his shoulder while reaching
into the refrigerator. He dodged the pitcher of tea with mint leaves, Anna’s no doubt, and grabbed a soda. “Hello?”

“Hold on a second! Joey’s asleep.” Her voice wafted from behind the laundry-closet doors. “I’ll be right out.”

“No need to hurry. I’m going to check on Joey.” He tossed his briefcase on the table, kicking the refrigerator shut as he guzzled his cola on his way down the hall. After brushing a hand over his son’s cool forehead and tucking the baseball mitt back under the covers, Forest breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the kitchen.

Anna shoved the louvered doors closed. She brushed aside a stray lock of hair with a harried sweep of her hand. “You’re home early.”

Wow, she looked good. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide, and that green dress hugged her curves like a wet leaf. “I brought paperwork with me so I could check on Joey. How’s he feeling?”

“Better,” she told him. “I called his pediatrician’s office again. Joey’s keeping liquids and Tylenol down, so there’s no need to worry for now. He wanted to take your mitt to bed with him. He seems to take comfort from the smell of the oils.”

Her insightfulness caught him square in the midsection and squeezed hard.

Being around Anna so much wasn’t going to work. He needed to feed her the grilled steak as promised, then take her home.

“I guess there’s nothing left for me to do but crank up the grill.”

“Good idea.” She lounged against the doors, arms behind her.

There was something very different about her. Her hair had been braided when he’d left, and now it was in a ponytail. And she’d been wearing some kind of sack dress with weeds and quotations all over it, but now was in a formfitting silk dress.

The door behind her moved. Her eyes widened. “Maybe you should check on Joey again?”

Her high-pitched voice grated along Forest’s heightened nerve endings. A first-year law student could note the body language red flags. She was concealing something.

Why would a woman shower and change into a slinky little number in the middle of the day? And what was she hiding in the laundry closet?

Or rather,
who?

Forest saw red, and it wasn’t a flag. Could Anna have put his son down for a nap while she “entertained” a guy?

He told himself that the pounding in his ears was merely the thumping of the off-balance washing machine. If not that, then it stemmed from anger because she’d abused his trust. It was
not
jealousy. She was simply an old high-school girlfriend. That relationship had no bearing on their present.

He mustered a cool voice. “Joey was fine when I looked in on him.”

“Oh, all right then.”

The door bucked behind her. She flattened both hands against it and smiled, a tight, overbright grimace that told Forest too much. She had some boy toy hidden behind that door.

Time’s up
. Forest pinned her with his best witness-breaking stare. “Anna, please, step away.”

“I, uh, I can’t.”

“Why?”

Her full bottom lip quivered. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” He hadn’t considered there might be a
half-dressed
sap in the closet.

The washer clicked, then hit the spin cycle.
Ker-thunk. Ker-thunk.

Forest almost felt sorry for the guy. He knew what a wallop Anna delivered to an unsuspecting male. He’d wanted a reason to get over his absurd attraction to her, and now he had it. Why wasn’t he happy?

He closed the last three steps between them. Anger and disappointment warred within him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t shake her by the shoulders. “Anna, step aside so we can get this over with.”

Ker-thunk
. The washer spun and rattled.
Ker-thunk. Ker-thunk
.

Anna sniffled. “Do you ever get tired of being right?”

“No more procrastinating.”

She eased forward. The louvered doors inched open as if nudged, then burst free. Anna stumbled into Forest’s arms.

Baskets tipped. Loose laundry overflowed around them. Forest clutched Anna’s soft body while clothes tangled around their ankles.