In A Heartbeat (HQR Superromance) Page 8

  Her announcement was met with predictable groans and complaints. She only shook her head. “We’ll set it on the counter, and we can continue the game tomorrow after school.”

  Standing in the doorway, Nate glanced at the wooden board to see that there were four players, although Anna was likely helping Jenna, too.

  “But, Mo-om!” Josh said, looking rebellious.

  “You have homework. Which means you do, too, Molly. I should have insisted you both do it before we started a game.”

  “I hate homework,” her son grumbled.

  Molly chimed in, “Me, too.”

  “Tough,” Anna said unsympathetically. “I’ll bet it won’t take either of you half an hour.”

  “But why can’t we finish—” Josh said again.

  “Because.”

  They knew when to quit arguing. Nate had to step aside to let them pass, Anna not even acknowledging him. In no time, she’d ushered her children through the kitchen, and he heard a door open and close.

  Not even a “Good night.”

  He and Molly were left looking at each other.

  “How come they had to go, Daddy?”

  “It is after seven,” he said, in fairness. “And she’s right about the homework. Why don’t you do it at the table so I have company while I eat?”

  Her “I guess” lacked enthusiasm, for which he didn’t blame her. What kid did enjoy homework?

  While his plate of spaghetti warmed in the microwave, he dribbled dressing on his salad and carried it to the table. He studied the work sheets Molly had taken from the book bag and grimaced, although he was careful that she not see him. Yeah, those looked deadly dull.

  Once he sat down with the spaghetti, a couple slices of French bread and a glass of milk, he said, “Mrs. Grainger didn’t seem to be in a very good mood.”

  Molly looked up. “She was fun. She kicked a soccer ball with Jenna and me ’stead of watching Josh practice. And she played Chinese checkers, too.” She added matter-of-factly, “She’s beating us.”

  So the chill was reserved for him.

  Nate couldn’t deny Anna had reason not to like him, but he did wonder why the change from yesterday. Or maybe he was imagining that. She’d given him enough hints last night that she didn’t plan to make a practice of dining with him. Probably she had only been ensuring the kids all felt comfortable.

  Maybe his parents would have been grateful to be needed. In fact, when he called to tell them what was going on, his mother had sounded a little hurt that he hadn’t let them know right away.

  At the very least, he surely could have found someone who didn’t not-so-secretly loathe him. Thinking of Anna the minute he realized he needed help had been natural; she’d been at the back of his mind since he saw her at the hospital that day. The strange thing was he hadn’t immediately thought, Now I can help her. In fact, he’d been surprised when she’d asked him if that was why he’d offered her the temporary job.

  His answer had been all too true. Molly needs you. I need you.

  Being a part-time dad—both when he was married and parenting his daughter for two days out of fourteen since the divorce—hadn’t prepared him for being solely responsible for her well-being. Reconciling work with her needs hadn’t been his only problem. He’d panicked and instantly latched onto the idea of co-opting the warm woman Molly had described helping her in the classroom, the one he also knew was capable of being fierce in defense of her kids and herself.

  And it appeared she was good to Molly. Good for her. His daughter had opened up amazingly in only two days. It made him realize how lonely being an only child was. Nate and his brother, Adam, had maintained a fierce competition for much of their childhoods. Nate sometimes thought he owed Adam for the competitive streak, the drive that had made him a success in business. The next time they talked, he might ask Adam if he felt the same. Adam was young to be a lieutenant colonel in the army. Nate smiled wryly. Growing up, neither had ever had a chance to be lonely.

  Molly asked a question about a problem on her math work sheet. He found he enjoyed helping her. When she said, “Mommy always says if I don’t understand something, I should ask the teacher,” he basked in the comparison. Evidently, all it took was a crumb to make him feel like a success as a parent.

  He cringed to think he’d descended to trying to show up Sonja. I’m a better parent. Yeah, that was mature.

  * * *

  ANNA LEAPED UP from her lawn chair when the action moved toward the goal Josh guarded.

  Parents on both sides of the field yelled as two opposing players broke free. A tall, lanky boy kicked it ahead to his teammate. In front of the goal, Josh half crouched on the balls of his feet, ready to leap any direction, his eyes never leaving the ball. She had a flash of seeing his father in him.

  “You’ve got it, Josh!” Nate called.

  A quick sidelong pass and the tall boy drew his foot back for a hard kick. The ball shot for the goal...and Josh flung himself right in front of it. He tumbled to the ground with the ball in his hands.

  The parents on the other side of the field groaned. The parents on this side cheered and called, “Great stop!” to Josh, who jumped up and kicked the ball darn near the length of the field.

  Nate flashed a grin at Anna. “He’s good.”

  She felt a burst of maternal pride. “He is, isn’t he? The coach says he’s fearless.”

  He looked over his shoulder, automatically checking on his daughter and Jenna. “I wonder if Molly would like to play.”

  “It’s a great sport for kids their age.” Anna felt a sense of unreality. Why had he wanted to come along today? She’d half hoped he’d offer to keep Jenna so she didn’t have to come to the game. Jenna usually found other kids to play with, but Anna made her stay close and she got bored. With multiple soccer fields, other games were going on to each side of this field. Every time a game ended, parents and kids streamed away, while the participants in the next game replaced them. Misplacing one little girl would be all too easy.

  Earlier, just as she’d been herding her kids to the car and asking Josh if he was sure he had his shin guards and shoes, which he hadn’t put on yet, Nate had opened the front door of the house.

  “Can Molly and I come?” he’d asked. In a plain gray T-shirt and khaki chinos that hung low on his lean hips, he was obviously ready for the occasion.

  Anna had stopped. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I want to see Josh play.”

  She’d stolen a glance at her son, to see him looking pleased. She didn’t have much choice. “If you can be ready to go in about two minutes. Or you could follow us.” And maybe never find the right field, she thought hopefully. Oh, that was mean, but she’d done really well avoiding him since Tuesday, and now what had he done but put her on the spot.

  Somehow, they’d ended up in his Lexus instead of her aging Toyota. Given that this was Bellevue, the Lexus looked more at home in the parking lot at the athletic facility than her car ever did. One more small sting.

  After popping the trunk, Nate had insisted on carrying her lawn chair and the small cooler with drinks and snacks she’d brought. Once she knew Nate and Molly were coming, too, she’d raced up to the apartment for extras.

  Anna had been very conscious of curious glances from other parents, who knew about Kyle’s death. Here she was, not even four months later, appearing with another man in tow. They’d look like a family to anyone who didn’t know better. And who wouldn’t look, given that this new man was gorgeous even in everyday clothes?

  Nate stayed near her on the sidelines, too, keeping an eye on the girls as much as she did and clearly enjoying the game. He sounded so wistful when he wondered whether Molly would want to play. Anna would have guessed he’d been an athlete even if he hadn’t mentioned playing some kind of peewee football. From the way he moved and the lean muscles ba
red by the short-sleeved T-shirt, he must stay active despite the hours he worked.

  He paced a few feet along the sideline, calling encouragement to Josh’s teammate who was moving the ball. Her cheeks felt hot as she eyed his body speculatively. He had to be an inch or two over six feet, broad-shouldered, muscles taut but not overdeveloped like a weight lifter’s. Given his working schedule, whatever he did to stay in shape almost had to be at a health club. Maybe the elliptical or a treadmill or racquetball. Tennis? He didn’t have a deep tan. In well-worn athletic shoes, he was light on his feet. Probably itching to be out on the field himself.

  He might be less intimidating today than when he was wearing one of his obviously expensive custom suits, but he was no less sexy.

  Suddenly, she realized he’d turned and caught her watching him. They stared at each other, she with her face burning, him with an inscrutable expression, and Anna knew how wrong she’d been. He was just as daunting like this. Even with his dark hair disheveled, Nate Kendrick had an air of command.

  She started when all the parents on the sidelines leaped to their feet yelling. It gave her an excuse to look away from Nate’s penetrating gray eyes. She was just in time to see a ball sail over Josh’s fingertips and into the goal. She called, “Good try, Josh,” but doubted he’d heard her amid the other voices.

  He was dejected when the game ended with a 1-0 score. His teammates slapped him on the back and said things like, “Not your fault. We didn’t score.” The coach spoke quietly to him, and he shrugged and dragged his oversize feet as he walked to the car.

  The minute all the doors were shut so nobody else would hear, he said, “I blew it.”

  Ready to back up, Nate braked instead, and turned in the seat to look over his shoulder at her son. “No, you let one ball go by. You can’t stop them all. You know that. That’s why you have teammates.”

  “Yeah, but we’d have won if I could’ve—”

  “You wouldn’t have won, because your team didn’t score. They were seriously outmatched today. Most of the action took place in front of your goal. Do you know how many stops you made?”

  “Um...a bunch,” Josh mumbled.

  “Way more than the other team’s goalie. What I saw today was you saving your team from being embarrassed. You were dynamite.”

  At his matter-of-fact words, Josh straightened from the defeated slouch, pride replacing dejection. Feeling both annoyance and gratitude, Anna knew she could have said the same thing and Josh wouldn’t have believed it. But how could she mind when Nate had given her son what he needed?

  She tried to remember if Kyle had had the same gift for boosting a boy’s self-esteem and couldn’t remember any particular speech. No, she was being silly; Kyle must have. He’d been proud of Josh, and Josh had preened with his father’s attention. Seeing him react the same to Nate’s comments made her sad. A boy needed his father. As much as she wanted to tell Nate to butt out of their lives, she knew she couldn’t, however much it grated to see him, of all people, giving Josh what he needed. Wherever they went from here, Anna resolved, she’d find ways for Josh to have male role models in his life.

  Just...not this man.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THURSDAY THE NEXT WEEK, Nate came home early to share a hasty dinner with Molly—placed at the front in the refrigerator with the usual note telling him how many minutes it would need to reheat in the microwave. He’d barely set foot in the front door when Anna hustled her kids out through the kitchen. She’d been like that since the game Saturday. Or maybe he should say since Sunday, when he’d gotten out the skateboards and bikes. While Molly and Josh skateboarded, he’d held Jenna up so she could pedal Molly’s old bike in circles around the paved area. She was a few years from being ready to ride on her own. She had one with training wheels, she’d assured him, but Mommy had said it had to go to storage.

  Nate had every intention of suggesting they go get it. Of course, talking to Anna would be easier if he could get her to pause and look at him for more than a fleeting, evasive moment. And, damn, but her attitude was getting under his skin.

  He gobbled his dinner and saw that Molly was picking at hers. “Don’t dawdle if you want to see your mom.”

  She didn’t even look up, perplexing him. Didn’t she want to see her mother? Yes, Sonja had scared her when she fell into a drunken stupor; maybe she had already been scaring her with alcohol-fueled scenes. But he’d have sworn Molly adored her mother, too.

  Either way, he thought she needed to see Sonja. He wondered if she might believe he’d been lying to her and her mother was really dead.

  “Okay, that’s it,” he finally said, tugging gently at her braid. “Find your shoes, and let’s go.”

  She didn’t protest, just moved slowly. Nate wasn’t thrilled about having to drive over the bridge to Seattle for a second time today, but this was important. After checking Molly’s seat belt, he cast a glance up at the apartment. Damn, he wished Anna was coming, too. She understood his daughter better than he did. The only person he saw in the window was Jenna, though. He waved, and she grinned and did the same. She looked astonishingly like what Anna must have at that age, but was a whole lot more cheerful.

  Yeah, why would that be?

  Mouth twisted, he accelerated up the long driveway.

  On the way, he asked about Molly’s day at school and got monosyllables in return. Once, he glanced in the rearview mirror to see her sucking on the tip of her braid, a habit he thought she’d dropped when she was four or so. Certainly before she started school. Under the circumstances, regression wouldn’t be a surprise, but he wondered when she’d started up this habit again. After the divorce? Since he’d brought her home from her mother’s apartment? Or today, because she dreaded seeing Sonja?

  He didn’t ask.

  Nate held her hand walking into the treatment center. After signing in, the bearded man behind the counter encouraged—told them—to keep the visit to no more than half an hour. Then he directed them to a sitting room where a woman waited.

  Nate glanced in, wondered where Sonja was...and felt a jolt. Good God, that was her.

  He should have known immediately from her distinctive hair color, but... She wouldn’t usually be caught dead in a plain and not very flattering crew-neck T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. Her red hair was pulled severely into a ponytail. Instead of bobbing, it hung lank and lifeless. The only times he’d seen her without makeup were first thing in the morning, and then she hadn’t had dark, swollen bruises beneath her eyes or sallow skin. She’d aged a decade, at least.

  Molly shrank against him. He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a subtle squeeze.

  “Sonja.”

  Even her hazel eyes were apathetic. Her gaze moved slowly from Molly to him. Only then did some anger show on her face.

  “I’d like to visit my daughter alone.”

  Nate hesitated. The request wasn’t unreasonable, but he didn’t want to desert Molly, either.

  He bent to kiss the top of her head, murmuring, “Why don’t you go sit with your mom, punkin. I’ll be right outside, I promise.”

  She cast him a single, frightened look, then straightened and trudged to her mother, who enveloped her stiff little figure in a hug.

  Finding it hard to watch, Nate retreated to the hall. He wanted to eavesdrop, but knew that crossed a line. Hearing a television, he strolled to the large opening across the hall into what was clearly a communal space with a large-screen television. A playoff baseball game was on. No Mariners, of course. Still, watching idly from the doorway was as good a distraction as any.

  A couple men seemed engaged. The other half-a-dozen people sitting in the scattered chairs or on the sofas looked as blank as Sonja had. Presumably, they felt like crap. Drying out had to be hell. It was taking a toll on Sonja, a beautiful, usually vivacious woman with emotions that bubbled and seethed.

 
What was she saying to Molly? Wondering had tension crawling up his neck. Did she have the sense to see that Molly needed reassurance instead of excuses or accusations? Gentleness?

  He kept sneaking glances at his watch. Scanned incoming emails and texts on his phone while verifying that his watch was accurate.

  At twenty-eight minutes after they’d signed in, he returned to the small room. Sonja had her arm around Molly and was murmuring into her ear. Molly had rounded her shoulders, giving her a hunched posture he’d seen so often when she’d been unhappy but wouldn’t tell him why.

  “Hey, kiddo. Time to say goodbye to your mom.”

  Sonja shot him a look of intense dislike, then kissed Molly on top of her head and said something he thought was “Remember.” Remember what?

  Molly stared at her feet as she came to his side. He nodded and said, “I’m glad to see you past the worst, Sonja. You may not think so, but I’m rooting for you.”

  “Sure you are.”

  His mouth tightened, but he nodded again, said good-night and steered Molly out of the room. He signed them out and they walked to the car. Dusk turned the sky purple, and the air felt pleasantly cool after an unexpectedly hot day. He’d have felt more relief at having this over with if he hadn’t feared they’d have to visit several more times before Sonja completed treatment. And then what? Could he trust that she was recovered? How could he monitor her? He was damn well not going to turn Molly over to her until she’d demonstrated sobriety for a few weeks, at least. He made a mental note to talk to Anna about staying those extra weeks.

  Driving from the parking lot, ready to wend his way through city streets to the freeway, he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did you have a good visit?” he asked at last.

  She shrugged.

  Maybe this was none of his business, but he asked, anyway. “What did your mom mean when she asked you to remember?”

  This look was distinctly fearful. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.