Let Me Love You Again (An Echoes of the Heart Novel Book 2) (25 page)

Late Friday night, Oliver paced his mother’s dimly lit kitchen with a sniffling Teddy in his arms.

He’d diapered the kid—he was a pro at it now, since the toddler seemed to take a dump every two hours. He’d given Teddy a late-night bottle, even though caving to it sat squarely in the Do Not Do column of Dru’s two pages of instructions, pinned to the kitchen bulletin board. He’d read the boy a book and played a favorite nursery song on the battered kid-proof tape player that Teddy was supposedly addicted to. Nothing had worked.

Night four of Oliver’s return to Chandlerville wasn’t going to yield any more sleep than the other three. He suspected Teddy wasn’t settling down completely until Marsha walked back through the front door for good.

“I know.” He jostled a cranky Teddy up and down, thinking about whimpering himself. “You’re getting a bum deal, man. I’d be kicking up a fuss, too.”

It’ll be another day at least before they’ll move Dad to step-down
, Dru said when she’d called earlier. Oliver had seen Joe only once since the bypass, and his father had been asleep the whole
time.
They’re trying to regulate his heartbeat and pressure. He’s having trouble breathing still. They’re watching him for pneumonia. Mom said Kask’s team is talking about possibly moving him to a rehab facility first, before he comes home . . .

Oliver stroked Teddy’s back. The boy’s cries were softer. He rubbed his head against Oliver’s shoulder. Teething was a bitch on little guys, from what Oliver had read online. Dru’s advice for how to handle it? Oliver should make a night’s worth of strong coffee. They hadn’t spent enough time together yet for her to realize he’d sworn off the stuff. It wasn’t as if he were sleeping, regardless.

A few hours ago, he’d sent the e-mail to kill Monday’s client pitch with Canada.

“It’s going to be okay, buddy,” he said to the restless, drooling, inconsolable child in his arms. “We’ll make everything okay.”

“And here I figured you’d be long gone by now,” a voice responded.

Oliver stared. Teddy lifted his head from Oliver’s soaking wet shoulder and looked behind them both.

“Over here, dumb ass,” the voice said again.

“What are you doing up?” Oliver asked Fin, a fourth-grader who according to Marsha had come to the family street-smart and world-weary and with some of the same attachment issues Oliver still struggled with.

She’d also said Fin was the one who’d first found Joe in the front yard having chest pains.

The boy grabbed milk from the fridge and a glass from the cabinet beside the sink. He poured, dropped into one of the high-backed stools at the kitchen’s center island. When Oliver put down another glass, the kid filled his, too. Oliver downed half the milk before spilling most of the rest, when Teddy reached for the rim and tipped it almost completely over.

“Damn it!” Oliver thunked the glass to the counter and fumbled for a kitchen towel. He dabbed at Teddy first and, juggling the toddler, crouched to sop up the floor.

“Give him to me.” Fin got off his stool. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”

He grabbed a pacifier off the counter next to the toaster and plugged the baby’s mouth. Teddy rewarded them with silence. He snuggled his head against Fin’s neck, snuffling and suckling.

Oliver snapped his fingers. “Forgot about the pacifier.”

“Don’t you know anything about kids?”

Oliver tossed the soiled towel toward the laundry room, ignoring how it landed short, in the middle of the doorway. He leaned against the island and drained the rest of his milk in a single long gulp, the way he once would have a beer.

“Did you know how to take care of babies before Teddy came along?” he asked.

Fin sneered. When Teddy raised his head, Fin gave him a goofy grin. Teddy giggled, drool oozing out from around the pacifier.

Oliver patted the toddler’s back. “You seem to be pretty good at it now. How long have you been here, anyway?

“Like a year or something.”

“I’ve had four days.” Not even that, if you counted the distraction with Selena and Camille, and him visiting the hospital whenever someone could spell him at the house. “Wanna cut me some slack?”

“Why? It’s not like you’re staying. What do you know about anything around here?”

“I know that not sleeping sucks. And it usually helps me feel better to have someone else to chew on until the sun comes up. Me, I find subcontractors to argue with, because their coding’s not working or they’re not working fast enough or I want them
working on something else. There’s always someone to rant at when I need to sleep but can’t. You”—he pointed at Fin with his empty glass—“evidently decided to come downstairs to gripe at me and hold the baby.”

“Because you couldn’t get Teddy to shut up.”

“Or holding him calms you down.” Oliver had been watching Fin’s eyes grow drowsier the longer he had the toddler in his arms.

Fin promptly handed the baby back.

“I used to hang out with Dru sometimes,” Oliver said before the kid could make it to the kitchen stairs. “We were both up a lot in the middle of the night. Or maybe I was up first, and she somehow knew it and didn’t want me to feel alone.”

“So?” Fin glared at him, his hand on the stair’s railing.

“So, I haven’t talked to Marsha about it, but if hanging with Teddy at night helps you sleep, it’s okay by me. No one else has to know if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The boy had come searching for his nighttime pal. Oliver was sure of it. While Oliver had done bed check the last two evenings, he kept finding toddler toys on the floor beside the bunk beds Fin shared with Gabe.

“I don’t care if I’m alone at night,” Fin scoffed. “I was alone for a long time before I came here. In a lot of places a whole lot worse than this dump. I don’t need anyone else to be okay.”

“But you’re not alone now.” Oliver deposited their glasses in the sink and filled them with water. “And neither is Teddy.”

Fin eyed him with the instincts of a survivor who wasn’t sure yet if he’d met a friend or an adversary.

“Does Teddy sleep better with you at night,” Oliver asked, “when he’s not feeling well?”

“Maybe. So?”

Oliver headed for the stairs. Walking the floors with Teddy for another night wouldn’t be a hardship. He had too much on his mind to do more than think. But if he’d learned anything from the last four days of chaos, it was to follow his instincts with these kids the way he did with his computers.

“So.” He handed over the toddler again. “Marsha and Dru both said to tuck Teddy in with me if he got cranky. But as you’ve so wisely pointed out, I don’t know jack about kids. And you’re an old pro, right? You and the rest of the house could use some peace and quiet. Tomorrow you can give me a crash course on—”

“Not being a total loser at babysitting?” Fin said snidely. He cuddled Teddy against him. The baby actually sighed.

“You bet.” Oliver headed up the stairs, Fin following. “I’ll learn from the master.”

And after that, maybe someone could teach him the secret to getting through to Selena.

No one in his family was thinking about anything right now but Joe’s recovery from surgery. But Dru and Brad had said they were ready to meet with Selena once things settled down. Oliver had called Selena’s cell that morning. He’d texted her that afternoon and again a couple of hours ago. She’d ignored every attempt he’d made to get in touch. So much for taking one day at a time and making this as easy as possible for everyone.

After Fin and Teddy were settled, Oliver headed for his parents’ bedroom and walked to the window that overlooked the Rosenthal property. As the shadows deepened each night, Selena, not work, consumed his thoughts. Her new strength and confidence. The wonder of her kiss, her touch, her compassion for him even when she’d been spitting mad—and more than a little scared of him still.

He’d left the ball in her court. He’d done all he could this time, calmly explaining his family’s side of things. Where he and Selena went from here was up to her, unless he wanted to make things ugly. But he had to see her again, talk to her, hold her. Because of Camille and his parents and Brad and Dru, yes. And because
he
needed Selena close.

She’d kissed him last night, after he’d promised Dru he’d keep his hands to himself. Why the hell had Selena gone and done that if she was going to ignore him all day today? Meanwhile he’d been out of his mind remembering the fire that had streaked through him as her sweet lips innocently brushed his. He stared out the window at Belinda’s hedge of camellias.

Don’t make what you do next about anyone but you and Selena . . .
Dru had said.
Do what’s right for
you
this time . . .

Problem was, Oliver had no idea what was right anymore. Seattle was gone. Toronto was gone. Work had been a black hole of nothing for him since he’d come home to Chandlerville. And he . . . he couldn’t get his head around caring, not enough to focus on landing his next client. Not until his dad was better. And Joe
was
going to get stronger. Before long he’d be back at the house, and he and Marsha could take over the family again.

Then Oliver would be free to refocus on the high-pressure job and fast-paced life that suited him. He would find a way to get back to work, exactly as he’d planned. Only when Selena had flat-out asked him what he’d do if he turned out to be Camille’s father—whether he’d be leaving Chandlerville—he’d had no answer to give her.

He still didn’t.

It’s not like you’re staying,
Fin had said.

It had never been as if Oliver was staying. Then he’d seen Camille and talked to her, he’d seen Selena again, kissed her, and
let himself want everything they’d once had back so desperately he’d barely stopped himself from walking next door about a dozen times today—he couldn’t think about anything else.

I have things in my life that are more important . . .
he’d told the AA group last night, looking straight at Selena when he’d said it.

All of it was important. His responsibility to his career and his family. His relationships with his parents and brother and sister and even the younger kids. His responsibility to his daughter, if Camille really was his. His feelings for her mother that had never gone away.

Oliver stared out at the night and the Rosenthal house—a cutthroat problem solver who didn’t have a clue what his next move was. Or how the hell to make it, without hurting any of the people he cared about.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Belinda stepped onto the shadowy porch and took a seat on the swing cushion beside Selena’s.

Then her mother seemed satisfied not to say anything at all, while they both stared into the night.

Selena remembered it vividly, Belinda finding her on this same swing, crying, their first night on Bellevue Lane. Because they’d finally moved away from their bigger house way across town, where they’d lived with Selena’s dad. And Selena had accepted that her father was never coming back.

She’d only heard from him a few times since. On her birthday when she was younger, a card would arrive in the mail with his signature alone beneath some sappy saying. He’d have tucked a five-dollar bill inside, as if that were all she’d needed from him anymore. The last birthday card before Selena lost contact with
him had come when she was eighteen. A few months before she’d broken things off with Oliver.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she finally answered.

“Seems to be an epidemic tonight.” Belinda motioned toward the lights still on downstairs in the Dixon house.

“Why are you still up?” Selena asked.

She’d stayed home another day with Camille. Her mom had gotten up early and gone to work, the same as always. They’d shared a simple dinner—another pot of Belinda’s soup, in deference to Camille’s still-queasy tummy. Otherwise, Selena and her mom had kept to themselves. The same as last night, when Belinda had returned from the hospital, and Camille had already been asleep, and Selena had been in her room . . . needing time and space to think.

“I fell asleep earlier for a few hours,” her mom said. “It didn’t stick. I heard you come out here awhile ago.”

Belinda stared straight ahead while Selena pushed them both in the swing.

“How are the Dixons?” Selena asked, knowing her mom had called Marsha to check on things.

“Joe’s still in CICU. Marsha’s a wreck while they wait for him to stabilize. But she’s staying strong for her kids. You know how she is.”

“Just like you stayed strong for me, after Daddy left?”

Belinda hesitated, then nodded. “After I told him to hit the road. Because we were better off without him.”

“Why . . .”

Selena inhaled, fighting the long-ago anger, the outrage at being abandoned, the unfair blame that she’d heaped on her mother. For hours, she’d been picturing herself twenty years from
now, having a similar talk with her own daughter about the father who may or may not have decided to be a part of Camille’s life.

“Why,” she tried again, “did you let me think all this time that Daddy just up and left us for no reason?”

“Because that’s exactly what he did, the day he decided to carry on an affair, and to keep seeing the woman for over a year.”