Lullaby for Two / Child's Play
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As he thought about that, the end of his marriage played insistently in his head. Tessa had made her decision at the hospital when she chose to go home with her father rather than with him. Had he learned from that? He’d learned some bonds overrode others. He’d just been too smitten with Tessa to see it. “You make life sound so easy.”
“Oh, no. Life isn’t easy. Sometimes it’s a downright struggle. But having the right person beside you makes all the difference in the world. My Tony…” She sighed. “He was the best husband in the world. He told me every day he loved me. He never hesitated to give me a hug or a squeeze. He was a good man who worked hard to make our life the best it could be. I’ll never stop missing him. Thank goodness that, while I miss him, I have all the memories from thirty-six years of marriage to give me comfort. I can’t imagine what my life would have been without him.”
“You have children, right?”
“Two boys—one lives in Austin, the other in San Antonio. And because I have two boys, that’s how I know you need a wife to help you raise your son.”
Since his divorce, Vince never thought about committing to a life partner again. He simply couldn’t imagine it. When he and Tessa had married, everything about the marriage had been strained from the get-go. She’d come from wealth and they’d had no money. She’d come from a ranch with every modern convenience. They’d had a walk-up apartment with very few amenities. She’d thought being married had meant spending time with him. He’d had to work from sunrise to sunset just to give them the basics, just to pay for doctors’ appointments, the utilities, the repairs on his truck that was always breaking down. He’d had no expectations about marriage, but she had.
It was time to leave for work, but he had one more question for Mrs. Zappa. “So many marriages aren’t good ones, so many fail. What was the secret to making yours a good one?”
The older woman saw he was serious and wanted an honest answer. Soberly, she replied, “There are two secrets—compromise and forgiveness. So many young people think love is enough. But it’s not, not unless it grows into selfsacrifice, not unless both people can put the other one first.”
As Vince left the apartment a few minutes later, his mind was on everything Mrs. Zappa had said as well as on every one of the mistakes he’d made when he was eighteen, naive enough to think that love was enough.
That evening Vince paced the kitchen with Sean in the crook of his arm. He did not want to call Tessa.
But Sean coughed once again, a cough that made Vince hurt for the little boy. Sean also sounded as if he was wheezing.
Making the decision that was best for his son, Vince went to the cordless phone, picked it up and dialed. Earlier he’d looked her number up in the phone book and he’d remembered it. If she didn’t answer, if she wasn’t home, he’d take Sean to the emergency room.
Tessa must have had caller ID because when she picked up the phone, she asked, “Vince?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Sean’s sick. He just had the sniffles this morning, but now he has this cough and a temperature of 101 and he’s wheezing. He’s done the emergency room route before when his parents died and he was in the hospital, too. I want to spare him that if I can.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, Tessa said, “Give me your address.”
He quickly did, telling her what side roads to take off of the main street.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she assured him and cut off the call.
Until Tessa arrived, Vince paced, rubbed Sean’s back and laid him in his crib. When the coughing seemed worse, he picked him up again. Ten minutes seemed like an hour, but Tessa finally rang the doorbell.
He hurried to answer it, Sean in his arms.
Tessa was carrying her doctor’s bag, and although she wore jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, she had a professional air about her. After one look at Vince’s face, she took Sean from him and carried the baby to the sofa.
Vince felt absolutely helpless and hated the feeling.
Now Sean was crying, as well as sniffling and coughing. Tessa tried to soothe him as she examined him. When she listened to his chest with a stethoscope, she frowned. “You said this has been going on since this morning?”
“Yes. It was just a cold.”
“It’s more than that now. I want you to run the shower, hot water. Get a lot of steam in the room. After you do that, find me a bath towel to wrap him in. I’m going to give him an injection and then sit in the bathroom with him until he’s breathing better.”
Vince came over to Sean, laid his hand on his son’s head. “Maybe I should stay here with him while you give him the injection.”
Tessa gazed up at him. “The sooner you get the shower running, the sooner he’ll breathe easier. Trust me, Vince.”
He realized he could trust Tessa, the doctor. And Tessa, the woman? She’d chosen her father’s protection over his but that didn’t matter right now. Only Sean mattered.
As he left the living room, he glanced back at Tessa. She was reaching into her bag, taking out a vial of medication.
He hadn’t prayed in a very long time. But he prayed now that Sean could fight this off and soon be well.
Chapter Four
Tessa sat on the closed commode in Vince’s bathroom, cooing to Sean and rocking him. Her hair was soft, fuzzy and damp from the steam, tendrils curling this way and that. Her clothes were damp, too.
Vince didn’t think she’d ever looked more beautiful.
His own shirt was sticking to his skin but he’d been so worried about Sean that he hardly noticed. The baby had stopped coughing and his wheezing didn’t sound as constricted.
“We can’t keep him in here much longer. I’ll run out of hot water. What then?”
“I don’t think we’ll need a trip to the emergency room. Can you go to the drugstore and buy a cool mist humidifier and distilled water? Also, Pedialyte. I want him to drink it so he doesn’t get dehydrated.”
Vince glanced at his watch. It was after nine but he knew the drugstore was open until midnight.
“Oh, and children’s acetaminophen if you don’t have any.”
“Are you going to stay in here until I get back?”
“If your hot water holds out,” she said with a small smile.
He was so tempted to wrap his arms around her and Sean, to tell her how grateful he was for her expertise, for coming when he knew she didn’t want to be here.
Instead, he said, “Thank you, Tessa.”
Her gaze locked onto his for a few seconds—a few seconds of awareness and memories and sizzling attraction that was still there.
But then she looked away and gazed down at Sean. “No thanks necessary.”
Her voice was a bit unsteady.
As Vince climbed into his SUV, he couldn’t keep from envisioning how Tessa had massaged Sean’s little chest and patted him softly on the back when she’d first taken him into the bathroom. She was so good with children.
And she’d never have any of her own.
Vince knew Walter McGuire had blamed him for everything that had happened, from the pregnancy to the quick marriage to the walk-up apartment he and Tessa had lived in, to the condition that had taken their baby and almost Tessa’s life, too. Over the years, Vince had wrestled with his own guilt and attempted to look over that span of time rationally, especially the pain that had come from Tessa choosing to go home with her father from the hospital, rather than with him. Everything that had come after had been born in that decision of hers. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, the pain from her choice still lodged in his heart.
He found what he needed in the drugstore and was home in twenty-five minutes. Home. It wasn’t home yet. Maybe it just needed pictures on the walls in the living room and a few rugs on the floor? That might help. But how long would he and Sean be staying here? If Sean had surgery, how long would recovery take?
Next week he might have that answer.
Now when Vince stepped into his house, something felt…different. Maybe it was the lingering scent of strawberries and vanilla from Tessa’s lotion or whatever she used. That day she’d come to the station, it had wrapped around him and twisted his gut. Or maybe the difference in the condo came from the sight of her medical bag sitting on his dinette table.
But then he was drawn to what really transformed his condo into a home rather than simply the place where he lived. The sound of Tessa’s lovely voice crooning to his son pierced his heart.
He never should have called her tonight. Yet Sean had needed her. What else could he have done?
His training in the Air Force and as a cop had taught him to walk silently unless he wanted to be heard. Setting his purchases quietly to the side of the computer on his desk in the corner of living room, he went down the hall to Sean’s room and stopped just outside the doorway. Tessa’s hair and blouse were still damp. She’d tossed a towel over the back of the rocker and had wrapped Sean in one.
Vince could see his son was sleeping as Tessa rocked and sang, “Baby close your eyes. Dream of puppy dogs and fireflies.”
He didn’t know the song and wondered if she’d made it up herself to sing to her little patients.
He knew he hadn’t made a sound. He’d hardly taken a breath. Yet she glanced up and spotted him as if some sixth sense had told her he was there.
“Is he asleep?” Vince asked though he’d already guessed the answer.
“Yes, he’s breathing easier. The little guy was tuckered out. He drank some apple juice for me. If he wakes up later, he might be sweated. See if he’ll take some of the Pedialyte.”
“Let me get the humidifier going and we’ll see if he’ll sleep in his crib.”
After Vince added the distilled water to the machine and plugged it in, Tessa asked, “Do you have something easy we can put on him so we don’t wake him?”
From the chest of drawers, Vince produced a nightshirt that buttoned down the front and was decorated with baseballs and bats. Tessa carefully unwrapped the towel. Vince slipped one little arm into the sleeve and carefully snuck it around Sean’s shoulders. When he did, the back of his hand grazed Tessa’s breast. She gave a quick inhale of air. They both froze.
He mumbled, “Sorry,” and managed to slip Sean’s good arm into the sleeve without awakening him. Vince’s big fingers fumbled on the snap buttons.
“Would you like me to fasten them?” Tessa asked softly.
He nodded, too close to her to shove his desire aside. He noticed Tessa’s fingers tremble as she fastened the bottom three snaps.
Lifting Sean from her arms, Vince wasn’t thinking about the past and regrets as he settled his son in his crib. The electricity between him and Tessa was alive now and it caught him in its grip. He turned on the night-light, then adjusted the baby monitor to the proper volume.
Tessa came over to stand beside him as he looked down at Sean. “He’s a wonderful little boy.”
Vince thought he heard a catch in her voice. “I should make a tape of that song you were singing for nights when I have trouble getting him to sleep.”
“It’s just something I made up for when I visit the newborns in the nursery.”
“You’re a woman of many talents.”
She smiled. “Believe me, songwriting isn’t one of them.”
He wouldn’t agree but didn’t argue with her. Standing so close to her, he could sense when she shivered. “You really should get out of that blouse. Let me get one of my shirts and I can run yours through the dryer.”
Tessa was never uncertain, but she looked unsure now. “I really should be going.”
“Mrs. Zappa made freshly squeezed orange juice this morning with the juicer. Can I tempt you?” The housekeeper at Arrowhead Ranch used to give Tessa freshly squeezed orange juice every morning.
“You remembered.” Tessa’s blue eyes were wider with surprise.
“I remember a lot of things.”
He could have kissed her then. He could have just bent right down and slid his arms around her. That’s what everything inside him urged him to do. But a kiss right now could damage the fragile thread of understanding forming between them.
After a last glance at Sean, Vince went to his room to find a clean shirt. Fortunately, Mrs. Zappa had ironed a few yesterday.
Away from Tessa, he inhaled a deep breath and took a white oxford, one of many he had because they were so practical, from his closet and carried it back to Sean’s bedroom where she was still watching his baby.
When she took the shirt, he said, “I’ll be in the kitchen pouring orange juice.”
He closed Sean’s bedroom door behind him, giving her the privacy to change…the privacy to think about their lives intersecting again.
A few minutes later, Tessa walked into the kitchen, feeling self-conscious in Vince’s shirt and knowing she shouldn’t. But when they’d been married, she’d sometimes worn one of his shirts with nothing underneath it and that had often led to—
She banished thoughts of their past together. Making sure she’d buttoned Vince’s shirt up to the neck, she told herself once more that there was nothing to be self-conscious about. Still, when Vince’s gaze slowly scanned her, she felt naked. She felt foolish; color crept into her cheeks.
She went to the counter where he had taken a pitcher from the refrigerator. “This housekeeper of yours must be a gem if she squeezes fresh orange juice for you.”
“She is. Already I don’t know what I’d do without her. I think she’s trying to mother me, though, and I don’t know how I feel about that.”
Tessa had never known her mother and in some ways, she believed her loss was easier than Vince’s situation where he’d had a mother one day and the next day he hadn’t. “You could let her do nice things for you. There’s nothing wrong with having parents who care, even at our age.”
As soon as she said it, she knew her words were a mistake.
Vince’s brow creased and he handed her one of the glasses he’d filled.
She took a few sips, not knowing where to take the conversation from there. Her father was definitely a hundredpound gorilla standing between them in the room.
She grasped for an easy topic. “So how do you like being chief of police?”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m pushing around a lot of papers, though. I’m used to being in the thick of things.”
“Fortunately, we don’t have much murder and mayhem in Sagebrush.”
“Fortunately,” he agreed.
That change of subject hadn’t done so well.
The kitchen was furnished as sparsely as the rest of the house. There was a dining area with a table and chairs but it looked as if it was never used. There were no curtains or blinds, no place mats, not even a pad and pencil that said Vince spent some time here. But there was a calendar hanging by a magnet on the refrigerator. She noticed the appointment she’d had with Vince and the one with Dr. Rafferty were marked. Then there was a notation about his meeting at the high school. The rest of the blocks were empty.
She realized Vince hadn’t begun his life here yet.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said gruffly.
“You’re a mentalist now?” Although her tone was teasing, she remembered all those times years ago when he could read her mind and she could read his. From the moment they’d first spoken to each other, they’d been so in sync.
He didn’t banter back. “You’re thinking a child should be raised in a real home, not just in a condo that’s a place to stay.”
He definitely wasn’t reading her mind tonight. “No, that’s not what I was thinking, Vince. I was thinking you’ve just begun a life here. It will take some time to establish it…if you want to.”
After he studied her thoughtfully, he admitted, “I couldn’t see putting money into rugs and drapes when we might only be here a few months. Except for Sean’s room. I wanted his room to be a special place for him.”
Setting her glass on the counter, she asked, “So you really intend to leave again?”
He set his glass down, too, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “When I found the specialist in Lubbock, I thought coming back here would be a good idea. Since I was familiar with the area, I was able to get in touch with a couple of friends. I believed Sagebrush would be good for Sean because we wouldn’t be landing in a strange place. But as soon as I drove down Longhorn Way, I thought ‘strange’ might have been better. I have very few happy memories here, Tessa.”
She knew that was true—a mother who’d abandoned him, a father who hadn’t known how to be a father. Vince had had to be the parent. He’d had to pay the bills and work afterschool jobs to keep food on the table. Then when he’d married her, he’d had double the responsibility.
When Vince slipped one hand from his pocket, Tessa knew what he was going to do. She should have grabbed her medical bag and fled. She should have…but she didn’t.
He reached out and brushed her hair from her cheek. His rough skin on hers was as arousing as it always had been. Even back in high school, his hands had been callused from outside work. Trembling, she couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t step back, couldn’t forget what they’d once been to each other.
“Your perfume suits you.” His voice was husky and there was a fire in his eyes that meant he desired her. She could never forget that heat or hunger.
“You shouldn’t…” She couldn’t seem to get out any more words.
“I shouldn’t what? Touch you? We’ve been avoiding each other like we had the plague. I don’t think that has to do with lack of chemistry, but too much of it. It’s still there. Even worried about Sean, I want to feel your skin under my hand.”
He could always do this with words—make her need. He straightened the collar of his shirt around her neck and under her hair as if that were the most natural thing to do. But then his hand slid along her collarbone, his fingers lacing in still-damp strands of her hair.
When Vince’s lips brushed over hers, her breath caught, her heart raced, her stomach twittered. Before she realized what she was doing, she reached for him, too. Her body was reacting as if it knew what was best.
He murmured something against her lips, something like, “I don’t believe this is happening.”
But then she heard nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and concentrated on the sensation of Vince’s lips on hers. He had always been an expert kisser, even at eighteen. Now, there was no finesse about the kiss, no intentional seduction. She felt his deep hunger, felt hers rise up to meet it, welcomed the invasion and sweep of his tongue in her mouth, the press of his body against hers. Old and new, familiar and different, excitement and desire mixed with the thought that what they were doing was taboo…yet she couldn’t remember why.
Suddenly, a baby’s sharp cry penetrated her pleasure. Instinctively her body shut down. She broke the kiss, and Vince pulled back.
He said gruffly, “I have to check on him.”
Of course he did, and she wanted to run into the room with him. Already she cared about this child as she did all her patients. But she stayed put as if she were glued to the spot.
Mechanically she picked up her glass, drank more orange juice and didn’t think about the kiss, didn’t revel in the lingering sensations from it, didn’t wonder why she’d let it happen.
When Vince returned, she was still standing there, counting the tiles along the back of the sink.
“He’s okay,” Vince told her. “He must have cried out in his sleep. Sometimes I wonder if he has dreams about the accident, if he’ll subconsciously remember that forever. Or if he’s so young, it will be wiped away as if it didn’t happen.”
Almost as if she had no control over her thoughts or her voice, she faced Vince. “Why didn’t you contact me after you went away?”
He didn’t seem surprised that she’d slipped back twenty years. His brows furrowed, the nerve in the hollow of his jaw worked and he replied, “You’d gone on with your life. I didn’t want to interfere with that.”
“How did you know I’d gone on with my life?”
“I still had friends back in Sagebrush. My dad was still here. You know how it is.”
She knew how it was and should have realized he’d gotten word of her comings and goings, just as she’d gotten word of his.
He stepped closer to her and rested his hands on her shoulders, sending heat through her once more. “I also didn’t want to put more of a wedge between you and your dad. I saw what it did to you when he disowned you, when he told you that you were no daughter of his. When I left, you were back in his house, back in his life. What would he have done if I’d contacted you?”
“He didn’t have to know,” she replied defiantly. If Vince had asked her to join him anywhere, she would have forgotten about college to build a life with him.
But Vince shook his head. “You never could have kept it from him. I saw how you needed your dad after the hysterectomy.”
His words tore her in two because he still didn’t understand. “I didn’t only need my dad, Vince. I needed you, too. I lost our baby and you weren’t there to talk about it. You weren’t there to…understand.”
Suddenly Vince’s house was claustrophobic. She couldn’t be in the same space he was. She couldn’t breathe. Pulling away from him, she went to the table and grabbed her bag.
“I’ll mail your shirt back to you,” she murmured and hurried to the door.
She practically ran to her car parked at the curb. She didn’t look back at the house to see if he’d followed her outside.
He wouldn’t follow her. He wouldn’t leave Sean. That’s the way it should be.
When she started the ignition and drove away, a mantra played in her mind. You can’t fall in love with him again. You can’t fall in love with him again.
On Saturday morning, Tessa slid a tea bag into a mug of hot water and absently dipped it up and down. All week she’d tried to forget about her kiss with Vince on Monday. When she concentrated on her little patients, she could pretend nothing had happened with him. But it had. She hadn’t wanted to dissect the kiss. Yet she couldn’t set it aside, lock it in a box or think around it.
Francesca, dressed in jeans and oversize T-shirt with the Family Tree symbol stamped on the front, sank onto a stool at the eat-in counter of their kitchen, looking as if she’d been up all night. Her long hair was tousled, and she wore no makeup. That was unusual. Francesca was a perfectionist about almost everything and her appearance was out of character.
“Are you okay?” Tessa asked, picking up her mug and carrying it to the table.
Francesca considered her question. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Instead of answering, Francesca slid from the stool and went to the coffee Emily had brewed before she left to go grocery shopping. She poured a mug and worried her lower lip.
“What happened?” Tessa prompted.
Her friend took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “No wonder Emily adds milk and sugar. This is strong enough for two pots.”
Turning on the faucet, she added hot water, then crossed to the stool and took a seat once more. “I went to a party last night.”
“That’s right!” Tessa remembered. “It was a reception for Kent Harris to celebrate the opening of his own law firm in Sagebrush. Do you think he snagged many clients?” If she could encourage Francesca to talk, maybe Tessa could discover what was troubling her friend.
“Possibly. There were so many people there that—” She stopped abruptly.
“What?”
Francesca stared down into her coffee.
Worried now, Tessa laid a hand on her housemate’s arm. “What’s troubling you so? Was Darren there and he wants to get back together with you again?”
The reason Francesca had moved to Sagebrush was to be with a man she’d fallen in love with. Darren was also a doctor at Family Tree. He’d met Francesca at a conference, and they’d conducted a long-distance relationship until he’d persuaded her to move to Sagebrush. She had and, for a while, their romance had stayed on an even keel. But when Francesca had moved in with Darren, she’d discovered he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. He’d taken her moving in as a commitment, the next thing to marriage, and he’d seemed to change before her eyes into the type of controlling man she’d sworn she’d never date, let alone marry.