Stuck in the Middle (19 page)

But as the Lexus pulled from the parking lot onto the busy street, she knew Karen wasn’t talking about only a date. She was talking about something way more permanent. Would God listen to those prayers?

A tickle in her stomach, Joan turned her back toward the door. She had too much to do today to deal with Karen or her blunt comments. She had invoices to key into the computer, and the inventory report to finalize, and . . . She’d better make a list to organize her thoughts.

Ken hovered over Jordan, not entirely sure the flimsy chair would withstand the toddler’s energetic squirming. Karen brought a booster seat with her, but even that didn’t provide enough height for Jordan to reach his food on the countertop, so they piled a few medical textbooks beneath it and secured the whole thing with bungee cords. So far the contraption seemed to be holding, but it looked way too easy to topple, and if anything happened to his nephew while in his charge, he’d never forgive himself. Where did Karen go, anyway? Her cryptic note,
Be back soon
, didn’t give Uncle Ken much to go on.

Lifting his mug to his mouth, he bolstered himself with a deep, coffee-scented breath before he drank. Jordan fished another handful of soggy Cheerios out of his bowl and leaned sideways to feed them to a delighted Trigger. The boy giggled with glee as the dog licked his fingers more or less dry.

With a sigh, Ken wiped Jordan’s hand with a wet dishrag for the fifth time. “Hey, kiddo, try to get some of those down your own throat too.”

At least Trigger had behaved himself admirably during this visit. Though when Karen and Jordan left, he wondered if he’d ever be able to stop Trigger from begging for handouts during mealtimes. He’d worked hard on that before Karen’s visit. But with two other dog lovers in the house, Trigger had taken advantage of the situation.

At the sound of the front door opening, relief wilted Ken’s shoulders. This babysitting stuff was nerve-wracking.

“Mama!” Jordan began bouncing up and down in his booster seat when Karen came into the room, the palms of both hands slapping the counter. Ken rescued the bowl of cereal before disaster occurred, and then scooped the kid up before he tumbled to the floor.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Karen took the toddler from his arms and cuddled him, grinning at Ken. “And how’s Uncle Ken doing this morning?”

“Great.” Ken topped off his coffee from the pot. “We had a few anxious moments when we first woke up and found you missing, but we made it. Even managed to get a clean diaper on.”

“Ah, diapering. Yet another skill I’m sure they taught you in medical school.” She buried loud kisses into Jordan’s chubby neck and then set him on the floor where he made a grab at Trigger’s tail. The dog had learned a painful lesson last night and executed a skillful maneuver to keep the fascinating appendage out of harm’s way.

“Where’d you go, anyway?”

“Oh, I decided to do a little shopping while you guys slept.” She flashed a grin at him as she went to the counter and filled a coffee mug. “Furniture shopping.”

Ken raised an eyebrow. Why wasn’t he surprised? She was as nosy as a little old lady and seemed to have made getting to know Joan her objective for the trip. “Did you find anything you couldn’t live without?”

She faced him, leaning against the sink as she cradled the mug in both hands. “I might have.” She blew away the steam rising from the mug and took a cautious sip.

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

Karen shrugged. “Not much to tell, really.” She swallowed another sip, eyeing him over the rim of the mug. “I think she likes you.”

A touch of excitement pricked Ken’s interest. “How do you know?”

“Just something she said. But apparently we both make her a little nervous with our talk about church.”

“Talk about church? I certainly haven’t had any theological discussions with her.” Ken frowned. “If mentioning God makes her uncomfortable, I don’t think she’s the one for me. I’ve met plenty of women who think being a Christian means going to church every Sunday and acting nicely during the week. That’s not what I want in a wife.”

Karen laughed. “Who said anything about a wife? I just had a friendly talk with the girl who lives next door. What could it hurt to ask her out? Take her to get a pizza or something. Get to know her.”

Ken shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I like her, Ken.” She stared into the mug for a moment. “This sounds nuts, but I think she’s been hurt.” She held up a hand. “Don’t ask how I know, because I have no idea. She seems to be holding something back.” She glared and pointed a finger in his face. “So don’t you dare hurt her more, do you hear me, little brother?”

She whirled to follow Jordan and Trigger into the other room, leaving Ken alone to consider what she’d said.

A few moments later, he followed his sister into the living room, a sense of peace settled deep inside. He still didn’t know if he would ask Joan out or not, but he felt positive that his life—and his relationships—were in God’s hands.

Joan left Rosa with a customer in the showroom and went into the back to check on Tiffany. The little girl sat at the desk in the office, coloring intently while she twisted back and forth in the desk chair. The computer speakers played a lively Disney tune while a cartoon puppy wreaked havoc with some chickens on the monitor.

Joan dropped into the guest chair and peered at Tiffany’s project. “Whatcha coloring?”

She slid the coloring book toward Joan. “Cinderella. She’s trying on a dress that some mice and birds made for her so she can go to the ball and meet the prince.”

“That was nice of them.”

She pulled the book back and applied her crayon, shaking her dark head. “She won’t get to wear it, though. Her mean sisters tear it up.”

“How sad for her.”

Earnest dark eyes looked up into Joan’s face. “Mice can’t really sew.”

Joan swallowed back a chuckle and kept her face as serious as Tiffany’s. “I didn’t think they could. But it’s fun to pretend, isn’t it?”

Tiffany nodded and continued coloring. She was such a beautiful girl, with smooth, toast-colored skin and the same jet-black hair as her mother. Normally an energetic child, she had certainly been quiet this afternoon. Amazing what a few Disney DVDs could do to calm a kid down.

“So I hear your daddy’s coming home tonight?” Rosa had asked for tomorrow off so they could spend the day together as a family.

Tiffany’s slender shoulders moved in a shrug, but the crayon continued its soft swishing across the page. Odd reaction. The kid should be ecstatic to finally see her father after two years. She seemed indifferent. Maybe she was nervous.

Joan picked up a crayon and waited until Tiffany moved to make room for her. “I know he’ll be happy to see you.”

She bent her head farther over her work, hiding her face from Joan. “I guess. You can do that mouse if you want.” She pointed toward the page.

“Thanks.” They colored silently for a moment. “I bet your dad has missed you very much.”

She looked up. “Then why didn’t he come home before?”

Uh-oh. Joan had just entered forbidden territory. This was absolutely none of her business, and she should shut her mouth right now.

But Tiffany’s question shot through her and probed at that aching place in her own heart. Why didn’t he? Joan had spent several years dreaming up a thousand reasons for her own father’s continued absence. She’d never considered that poor little Tiffany might have spent the past two years doing the same.

Tiffany’s crayon hovered over the page as she waited for an answer. Joan shook her head. “I don’t know, sweetie. But the important thing is that he’s coming now.”

Her thin shoulders drooped. “Who cares? He’ll leave again, and Mama will cry.”

The waxy smell of crayons rose from the box when she opened the lid. She slid the slender blue stick back inside and extracted a red one. Joan’s heart twisted in her chest. Poor kid, so young to learn such a painful lesson. If she let herself become hopeful, she would only be setting herself up for more pain when Luis left again. Then her mama wouldn’t be the only one who cried. Better not to hope at all than to make herself vulnerable.

Joan opened her mouth to say, “Maybe not,” but she closed it again. Fathers couldn’t be trusted. Who knew that better than she did?

~ 13 ~

Rosa floated through the door Wednesday morning, her eyes full of twinkles. She threw herself into an overstuffed chair near the sales counter and bestowed a happy smile upon Joan.

Leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, Joan couldn’t help laughing at her rapturous expression. “I guess Luis got home safely.”

Rosa nodded. “He has not changed. The same handsome Luis. Only stronger, more, how you say . . .” She flexed an arm and patted a bicep.

“Muscles,” Joan supplied.

Rosa sighed and leaned back. “
Sí
. More muscles. He worked at the house yesterday fixing the door and the washing machine. My Luis, he can fix anything. Today he is washing dishes at the restaurant.”

Joan hoped he spent some time playing with his daughter as well. She kept her voice carefully even. “Was Tiffany glad to see him?”

Rosa’s face clouded as she straightened in the chair. “She was glad, yes, but quiet all day. He brought her a gift, a necklace made from Indians of the West. She said thank you with good manners, but would not wear it.” She shook her head. “I think she is shy from not seeing him for a long time.”

Joan nodded. “I’m sure that’s it. She was really young when he left.”

Rosa’s expression cleared. “He brought a gift to me too. See?”

She held up a pendant for Joan’s inspection. An oval of blue-green turquoise dangled from the end of a silver chain.

Joan ran a finger over the cool, smooth stone. “It’s beautiful.”

She dropped it to her chest and kept it covered with a hand. A joyful smile curved her lips. “He say he miss us too much. He say . . . pardon,
says
families should be together.”

“So he’s staying, then?”

A line appeared between her eyebrows, and she looked away. “Maybe. Or maybe we go with him.”

Go? She would consider leaving Danville, leaving Abernathy’s, leaving her? Joan clamped her jaws shut. This was none of her business. Rosa had every right to move out West if that’s what it took to keep her family together. Joan was only her employer, nothing more.

So why did she feel so hurt, so . . . offended?

She heaved herself off the counter and walked to the other side. Rosa stood and followed.

“He has a good job in Nevada, working construction. He
says
they pay lots of money on big buildings in Las Vegas.”

“Las Vegas?” Joan widened her eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good place to take Tiffany?”

Rosa’s hands gestured wide. “Luis says lots of families are there, lots of nice places to live, and good schools. Las Vegas is a good place to live, not like on television.”

That was probably true. But it was sure to be a lot different than little old Danville.

“I’ll miss you and Tiffany.” Joan was surprised to hear her voice catch, and turned away to straighten a stack of papers. How embarrassing. She didn’t want to get emotional on the job.

Rosa laid a hand on her arm. “We do not decide now. Luis will start work in three weeks. We will talk more.”

Joan put down the papers and forced herself to smile at Rosa. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”