The Wish List (12 page)

Faith couldn’t hide her small, exasperated smile. The man wasn’t going to let it alone. “Do doughnuts have holes, Nathan? Of course I’m worried about him. I worry about him all the time.
All
the time. But Cory and I have been through this before. We’ll go through it again. And again and again. So don’t worry. This isn’t really anything you need to concern yourself with, so don’t go looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His green gaze locked onto her own so intently that Faith wanted to slide back in order to escape that dangerous pull.

“Like—like you’re thinking about bundling
me
up in blankets and ordering me off to bed, too. I’m not four years old, Nathan. The words
doctor’s orders
don’t intimidate me.”

Nathan chuckled. “If there’s one thing I know about you, Faith, it’s that the word
doctor
doesn’t faze you in the least. But there are some words that are upsetting to you. Words like
children’s center
. You don’t want to leave him there, do you?”

Nathan’s words pricked at her conscience. Slowly, she blew out a breath of air, bracing her elbows on the table.

She pushed her fingers through her hair in a gesture of frustration. “It’s not a bad place,” she said softly, miserably. “They have toys and games there. The staff is friendly and committed.”

But the words she hadn’t said were the ones that haunted her. The children’s center was a nice place, but it was in a hospital, part of a large, sterile institution, and Cory had been scared the last time. He’d only been three...and Cory, who almost never cried, had cried for her—miserable sobs she’d continued to hear long after she’d gone.

“I’ve stopped in there,” Nathan stated. “They make every effort to make the kids comfortable. It’s a workable solution when you have a sick child.”

Faith nodded. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself. And it won’t be for long, anyway. Less than a week. By next Monday, Cory will be fine and able to go back to preschool. He can stay with Mandy again in the afternoons. He feels safe with her.”

Nathan reached out and touched Faith’s jawbone with one tense finger. “You’re a good mother, Faith, so don’t look so guilty. There’s nothing more that can be done.”

There’s nothing more that can be done
. Nathan was still saying those words when he turned to leave—when he was finally forced to walk past the couch and look at the child.

The blankets had bunched down around Cory’s waist. He was sleeping on his stomach, his small behind sticking up like a baby’s. His teddy bear had gotten crammed down between the cushions, and Nathan knew the boy would be looking for it again when he woke up.

Without hesitation, Nathan pulled the small bear free, lightly laying it by the child’s hand. When the fluffy fur touched the boy’s fingers, he shifted, pulling his legs higher beneath him, blinking his eyes open sleepily.

“You going?” he asked groggily.

Nathan nodded. “I’m going. You go back to sleep. Get your rest so you can take care of your mom, okay?”

“Okay, Doctor,” Cory agreed, snuggling back into his covers, closing his eyes again. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow...Cory,” Nathan finally answered.
See you tomorrow
. But not before the boy had made his trek to the hospital, not before Cory had spent the day in a strange place filled with smiling strangers and antiseptic smells.

As Nathan edged around the door and started down the walk, he turned, looked back and saw her. Faith was framed in the doorway, all eyes and tawny hair and softness. She was an incredibly strong woman, one who wouldn’t let life beat up on her, who wouldn’t let a small setback stop her. So why did she look like a frail, beautiful flower torn from the stem? Why did she look as if she needed someone to hold her? And why, damn it to hell, why in the world did he find himself wanting to run back and wrap her in his arms, promising he’d protect her when he knew damn well that he wasn’t made of the right stuff for that role?

Faith closed the door, and the light went off. But still Nathan stood there, watching the house for several seconds before he got into his car and drove off.

There was a full moon shining. It should have been a bright and sparkling night, a good night for a drive. Clean and fresh and promising.

Instead, Nathan could only picture the little boy, snuggled in his dinosaur sheets, resting peacefully in his safe, warm cocoon. He could only hear Faith’s worried voice.

It won’t be for long. It won’t be for long
. He’d wanted to do something to reassure her that her son wouldn’t be sad or scared because of the decision she’d been forced to make. But in the end he’d said nothing. He had let her go back and face her doubts alone.

She
was
alone. She had no one else to watch her sick boy. No one to turn to.

Nathan wondered if that was the way it had been for Joanna, having a mostly absentee husband, a man too caught up in work to stop and offer to help.

Braking at a light, he thumped the wheel with his palm. He couldn’t do anything about Joanna. He couldn’t change the past.

And he couldn’t help Faith, either. It was impossible, unthinkable.

What she needed right now was an alternative, a babysitter she could trust. He couldn’t help with that. Besides, there was no way she would trust
him
, not a man who’d argued with her, fought her and kissed her when her guard was down.

He wasn’t the one for this job.

But as he drove on, Nathan couldn’t help remembering another child and another anxious mother. He and Joanna had taken Amy to the emergency room for stitches. Amy had clung to him, whispering frantically. “I’m scared, Daddy. I’m scared,” she’d said as tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

It wasn’t the same, not at all. Cory was going to a bright, well-stocked child care center, not an emergency room. It wasn’t nearly the same thing.

Except that Cory was a child. A small, sick child. And therefore, more easily frightened than usual.

Then there was Faith. A woman who’d had far too much stress in her life lately, a fair share of it coming from him. Faith, who was worried about her son, but trying not to let it show.

Swearing beneath his breath, Nathan pulled into his drive. He pulled out his phone and made a call. Then, turning the car around, he drove back the way he’d come.

Her house was dark when he got there. Nathan moved around to where he knew Faith’s window would be. He rapped lightly, and called out in a low voice, afraid he’d wake the boy or scare Faith.

Her light flicked on. She peeked out the window and pulled up the sash. Nathan could see that she was wearing a soft pink robe that covered her from neck to knees. It was the kind of thing that was supposed to look demure, but only made a man want to pull it off to see what was hidden underneath.

“Nathan?” she whispered, shoving her long, loose hair from her eyes. “What’s wrong? Come in.” She bent out the window, motioning him toward the door. “I’ll let you in.”

“No.” He placed his fingers over her soft lips to stop any words that might follow. She gazed up at him over his fingers, her eyes still hazy from sleep.

“Faith, I had to come back. I’ve been thinking. Cory—he shouldn’t have to go to the children’s center. That’s not right. Not when I’ve got nothing to do all day. So, if it’s okay with you, I’ll come stay with him tomorrow. Hannah will be here part of the time, too. I’ve called her, and she has a few hours she can spare. You can leave the boy at home then. He could stay in bed, with his own things.”

She was wide awake now, her eyes following the movement of his lips. Leaning out into the night, she reached up and touched the stiff line of his jaw, the one he’d been holding rigid ever since he’d made the decision.

A small smile lifted her lips. Slowly she shook her bead. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Because you don’t trust me? I thought that might be it. That’s why I thought of Hannah. She’s got lots of kids and grandkids of her own.”

Faith mimicked Nathan’s actions, sliding her own fingers across his lips. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, Nathan. I saw how gentle you were with Cory. It’s because of you. Being with Cory—you don’t want that. Not really.”

“I won’t lie to you,” Nathan said, his lips brushing against the pads of her fingers just before she moved them away. “The very thought scares me. It’s hard to look at any child and not see my own or remember my own failings. I’m a man with lots of regrets, and I know how much you’re worried about your boy, wondering if he’d be scared staying in the hospital. If I could have saved him that and didn’t, well I think I’d have a whole lot more regrets tomorrow than I do today. I can’t afford that, Faith. I don’t think I can afford even one more regret in my life. Besides, I could probably keep him happy for just a few days. Hannah will be around when she can, and Cory will rest a lot. I’d treat him right, I promise you.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

He shook his head, but she stilled him as her hands framed his face. “Will this take away the guilt about Amy?” she asked.

Nathan slid his hands up to clasp Faith’s wrists. “Nothing’s ever going to erase the past. I’m never going to forgive myself. But if I can help you—well, you’ve helped me. It’s only right. It’s something I need to do.”

Her smile transformed the night. She leaned close, and quickly dropped a feathery kiss on his lips, her mouth warm and giving against his own. “Then, thank you, Nathan,” she whispered. “I accept. I probably shouldn’t, but I will.”

Nathan stared at her. He streaked one finger across his lips where her own had rested just seconds ago, then touched her mouth. “Gratitude?” he asked with a smile.

“Gratitude. It works both ways,” she agreed.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Faith. Early.” Nathan stepped away. Then he waited for her to lower her window and lock things up tight before he drove away.

When he climbed into the car his mind was reeling, remembering the feel of Faith’s lips against him. She’d kissed him. She’d touched him voluntarily, for the first time since she’d seared him with her palm that first session weeks ago.

But it was only because she was grateful, he reminded himself.

He could still taste her on his lips—her innocence, the warm, wild scent of her. And he wondered how in the world he could continue on. How was he going to make it through the next day or two with her son? How would he make it through the next weeks with Faith?

Because if anything was clear to him, it was that he deserved nothing from Faith Reynolds. Not her gratitude. Not her trust. He didn’t merit it, nor did he want it. Because when a man had a woman’s trust, he could abuse it, lose it. He could lose her...

Maybe he could take care of her child for the next day or two and still stay sane. But there were limits to what a man could survive.

Having experienced Faith’s kiss, Nathan figured that he’d just about reached his limit.

It was time he started putting in double duty on his therapy, to begin ending things between him and Faith. But first he had to get through tomorrow.

Chapter Six

With a full day ahead of her, Faith knew she shouldn’t be up, wandering the dark house in the middle of the night. Yet she was.

Ever since Nathan had come rapping on her window—no ever since she’d looked into his eyes and seen his warmth and concern, ever since she’d laid her lips against his—her heart had been beating out of control. There was no way she could go back to sleep now.

She’d already had a cup of warm milk and honey, watched a whole hour of guaranteed-to-make-anyone-snooze reruns on TV, and still her bed offered no relief.

“Faith...what were you thinking?” she whispered, groaning.

She’d kissed him, knowing that it was the last thing in the world she should be doing. Hadn’t she learned her lesson, watching her mother get her heart trampled? Hadn’t she herself married expecting what could never be? But at least she’d had an excuse then. Jim had claimed to love her; he’d vowed to stay with her.

That wasn’t the case with Nathan. He made no secret of the scars on his soul, the ones that wouldn’t let him give too much of himself or let him take anything from others, either. His past would always haunt his future. A woman would be ten kinds of a fool to let herself feel anything for such a man...and Faith had already been a fool. She wasn’t going to be one again.

Her husband Jim had only needed her for the moment, and Nathan only needed her until his hands were healed.

“Remember that,” she whispered. “No more touching other than therapy.” Even if Nathan’s touch made her body throb and her heart beat faster. His kisses were forbidden from now on.

Accepting his offer to watch Cory was probably crazy, too...but that was where all her intelligent plans fell apart. She couldn’t refuse his offer and take Cory to a strange place when there were good people willing to care for him in his own home. She couldn’t risk her son’s tears—not even to protect her own heart.

Rising from the couch, Faith moved to her son’s room where she had carried him after Nathan had gone. His bear had fallen again, and she placed it beside him in case he needed it in the night. As he stirred in his sleep, she gently eased away.