To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance) (11 page)

Then they were outside and the cool evening air hit her face,
bringing clarity. Not going to happen. She didn’t even want it to happen. Why
indulge in futile fantasies?

John’s SUV was waiting in the pickup zone. “If I know you,
you’ll somehow make this into Monkey’s fault.”

“I’ve been working on that already. Monkey taunted Lizzy about
being a wuss until she had to prove she could have adventures without him.”

“But she learned her lesson this time, didn’t she?”

“She proved she has the guts to go after what she wants. To
venture out completely on her own.”

“That was never in doubt.” John set the chair brake and opened
the passenger door.

She
could
survive on her own, could
even have adventures. But it would be a lot nicer having them with someone. With
John’s help she climbed into the passenger seat. He squeezed her knee, setting
butterflies loose in her stomach. Suddenly she missed what they used to have
with a fierceness that took her breath away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

J
OHN
PULLED
UP
in front of Katie’s
house. It had been a long day and he was tired and still had to pick up Tuti.
But he couldn’t leave until he was sure Katie was okay.

“Don’t move until I come around to help you,” he said. “I don’t
want to have to take you back to the hospital because you’ve fallen and broken
your other leg.”

Being Katie, she had the door open and her crutches poised to
hit the ground by the time he got to the passenger side. He took the crutches
from her and put an arm around her waist. Her scent, ripe with dirt and sweat,
was earthy and warm.

“I’m going to have to learn to do this by myself,” she grumbled
as he swung her down from the vehicle.

“You don’t have to learn tonight when you’re tired and sore.
Walking on crutches is harder than it looks.”

“I guess you would know.” Standing on her good foot, she placed
a hand on his shoulder for balance while she positioned a crutch beneath her
arm.

She was referring to the time when he was fifteen and she
thirteen and he’d fallen out of her parents’ apple tree and broken his leg. It
had been embarrassing for a guy who prided himself on his athleticism and, in
particular, his tree-climbing ability. “Did that make it into one of your
stories?”

“Not yet.” She let go of him and set off up the path to her
front door, one awkward step at a time. “I couldn’t figure out a good reason for
a monkey to fall out of a tree. I mean, really. You of all people.”

“Maybe Monkey was distracted because he saw something luscious
but out of reach.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe he saw Lizzy sunbathing in a bikini.”

“Huh?” She jerked, lost her balance and started to topple.

John caught her, his arms closing around her. She went very
still. “A purple bikini with white polka dots,” he said, his mouth next to her
ear. “It’s etched in my memory. That was the first time I saw you as a girl and
not as Riley’s pesky kid sister. It was the beginning of my love affair with
your breasts,” he added huskily. “They were barely buds but oh so sweet and firm
and high.”

“Stop.” Her voice was breathy and her legs wobbled, but she
still had enough strength in her arms to push him away. She took a breath and
tackled the steps, planting her crutches and dragging herself up behind. “I was
going to offer you coffee but I’ve changed my mind. You’re a pervert.”

He grinned as he climbed the stairs after her. Getting a rise
out of Katie never failed to amuse him. “Not a pervert, just a red-blooded
teenage boy. What were you doing strutting about in a bikini where you could be
sure I would see you?”

The pink in her cheeks deepened. “I was not strutting. I
was—oh, you’re doing it again. Good
night
.” She
fumbled with her key in the lock.

He took the key out of her hand. “I’m coming in with you.” He
opened the door. “While you shower I’ll make you something to eat. Soon as
you’re settled, I’ll leave. Promise.”

“But—”

“No arguments. Or I’ll come in there and scrub your back.”

She threw him an exasperated look and hobbled down the hall, no
doubt too tired to fight him over it. Was he a hopeless case or what? Still
mooning over Katie Henning like a schoolboy when she’d made it more than clear
she wasn’t interested.

He went into the kitchen and flicked on the light. A
cream-and-gray cat leaped off a chair and arched its back, green eyes wary.

“What’s your name?” He bent to scratch behind its ears and the
creature purred. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, too.”

He searched the laundry room and found a bag of premium dry cat
food. After taking care of the cat, he checked the fridge for human food.
Organic vegetables and fruit, a big jar of fish oil, free-range eggs, biodynamic
organic yogurt… When had she turned into a health nut?

Oh. Duh. Well, good to see she was taking care of herself. But
the bottle of micronutrients and extracts of obscure algae made him uneasy. He
hoped she wasn’t still putting her faith in quack medicines and dodgy
pseudoscience to keep healthy. He hoped she was doing regular breast exams and
whatever else her doctor recommended as routine screening. He started to put the
bottle back and his hand stopped in midair.

He didn’t trust her to take care of herself.

Sobered by the realization, he took ingredients out of the
fridge. He peeled and chopped and whisked and sautéed. She needed someone to
look after her. Was anyone making sure she did the right things? He would ask
Riley. Or maybe Paula would have a better idea. The two women were close.

Fifteen minutes later he flipped out an omelet containing
enough vegetables to choke a rabbit. He added a garnish of strawberries and
blueberries for extra goodness.

“Smells good.” She stood in the doorway, resting on her
crutches, wearing pajamas printed with cats. Her wavy hair hung dark and wet
around her shoulders.

“Yeah.” Only he was referring to the fresh scent of her
shampoo.

Her cat rubbed up against the boot on her leg. “Hey, Lulu,” she
crooned as the feline sniffed the casing. “It’s all right. I’m going to be all
right.”

“Madame.” John set a plate of food before her, nodded at her
thanks, then brought over two mugs of herbal tea.

“I thought you were going home as soon as you fed me.”

“Soon.” He sat opposite and sipped the tea. But first he was
going to tell her the truth about why he left, even if it made her hate him
worse than ever.

* * *

K
ATIE
FORKED
UP
a bite of tender omelet. Part of her wanted him to leave so he wouldn’t
stir up muddled feelings. Part of her enjoyed his company. And that was
dangerous. “This is delicious. But you’ve made a man-size meal. Want some?”

“Maybe just a bite.” He opened his mouth expectantly.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed at his cheek.
Well, she did owe him. Cutting off a hunk, she held it out. He leaned over. As
his mouth closed around the bite of food his gaze met hers.

Would those blue eyes never lose the power to dazzle?

She dropped her gaze. “How’s Tuti?” she asked, because it was
safer than asking why he was still there.

“She’s such a little monkey—and I don’t just mean climbing
trees. She’s full of mischief.”

Katie smiled. “Wonder where she got that from?”

Frowning, he wrapped his hands around his mug. “But she worries
me, too. I heard her crying the other night, after I’d put her to bed.”

Katie put down her fork, her appetite diminished by the thought
of little Tuti in pain. “What’s wrong? Do you know?”

He shook his head and shrugged.

“She’s probably sad about her mother’s death.” Katie knew how
that felt. She’d been ten when her mother died and the bottom had been ripped
out of her world. With her father devastated and Riley pretending he didn’t
care, she was left to struggle with her grief on her own. Her father had poured
all his devotion into her mother. And that was right and as it should be.

“Could it be you’ve glossed over the grieving process because
of what you know about Balinese traditions? Maybe you thought she would recover
more quickly?” John stiffened, no doubt taking her comment as criticism. It was
true, she didn’t think he’d taken Tuti’s loss seriously enough although she knew
it wasn’t out of any lack of caring. “Her mischievousness might be her acting
out because she doesn’t know how to deal with her feelings.”

“I told you, they view death differently in Bali.”

“Maybe so,” Katie said. “But she’s still a small girl who’s
lost her mother and no doubt misses her terribly. She might understand the
religious and cultural meaning of death. But the reality is that her mother
isn’t there to give her a cuddle when she falls down, to kiss her
good-night.”

“I’m there. I comfort her when she hurts herself.”

“That’s good. I can tell Tuti adores you. But it’s not the same
as knowing your mother will never hold you again.” Even now the thought brought
pain. She missed her mother every day of her life. Her heart ached for poor
little Tuti.

John stared at the table. When he glanced up, his eyes were
clouded. “I’m doing my best. I can’t do anything more. Nena’s gone. Nothing can
change that fact.”

Katie’s heart reached out to him. He was trying so hard,
probably wondering why he still couldn’t get it right. But was that even
possible when it came to raising kids? With the best intentions in the world
parents still made mistakes.

“Do you talk to her about her mother—Nena?” Speaking the
woman’s name aloud, her voice sounded odd to her own ears. She’d thought she
didn’t feel any jealousy. Now she was aware of a dull ache behind her breastbone
when she thought of John making love to another woman barely a month after he’d
left Katie’s sickbed.

A healthy woman. A woman who had given him a child.

It was a long time ago. Get over
it
.

But it was hard to get over something she hadn’t had time to
process. She’d tried to set aside the hurt for the girl’s sake but it was only
buried, not banished.

“I probably don’t talk to her about Nena enough,” he admitted.
“There’s not a lot of time by the end of the day what with school and work,
getting dinner, doing her reading, getting ready for bed… I had no idea how much
time it takes just doing the basics of looking after a small child.” He paused.
“Katie, there’s something about those days that I want to tell you—”

“First, what was Nena like?” She didn’t really want to hear,
but if she cared about Tuti she needed to be able to talk about the girl’s
mother without hostility. During her illness, she’d learned that when the pain
was intense, she had to lean into it. Only by pushing through could she get to
the other side, to a place of calm.

John shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

Meaning, he didn’t want to tell her. Was that guilt talking?
Their feelings didn’t matter, not compared to Tuti. “Yes, I do. The more people
Tuti can talk to about her mother, the better.”

“Well…” He scratched his head. “She was a lot like you.”

“Like me?” Katie went still. “How do you mean?”

“Self-contained. Not reserved exactly but she was
self-sufficient. She enjoyed my company but made it clear she didn’t need me.
Not in the long term.”

And that’s what
she
was like? No
way. She’d adored John, wanted to be with him every moment of the day. “
I
needed you.”

“You did and you didn’t. I know you loved me but there was a
small part of you deep inside that you held back. That you kept…separate. It’s
okay. I accepted it. I don’t think you meant to hurt me. It’s just the way you
are.”

Withholding. He’d thought she’d been withholding. Katie made
herself take another bite of the cooling omelet because she didn’t know what to
say to John’s accusation. Withholding. That’s not how she saw herself at all.
She gave every scrap of love and warmth she had to her pupils, to her family,
and she’d given it to John when they’d been going out.

“I didn’t know that when we were together,” he added. “I only
realized it much later, after I was away from you and had a chance to
reflect.”

“I had no idea.” Nor did she understand or even believe it. How
could something that big, that fundamental, be true and she not know it about
herself?

“Now, about what I wanted to tell you—”

“Hang on. I’m struggling with what you just said. Can you give
me an example of me holding back?”

“I don’t mean you were passive-aggressive or anything. You were
always warm and loving. But if we disagreed you didn’t want to talk about it.
Instead, you tried to smooth it over and sweep things under the carpet.”

“I don’t believe it’s necessary or good to dwell on problems,”
she said uncomfortably. “People disagree, sure, but that doesn’t mean they have
to argue and get angry.”

“Our final argument was about life-and-death. Of course I was
angry when you refused to discuss your treatment or change your mind.”

“Let’s not go there.” A topic that divisive wasn’t open for
discussion, not when their relationship was so fraught with emotional
minefields. “You still haven’t given me an example of me being too
self-sufficient.”

“Okay, whenever I tried to pin you down for a wedding date, you
would discuss the pros and cons of different seasons but never come to a
conclusion about the best time. So we never set a date. When I talked about
having kids someday you raved about how much you loved children but never said
when we would start a family.”

“We were in our early twenties, in no hurry,” she protested.
“We had our future ahead of us.”

“What does it hurt to talk about it, to plan, to dream?”

“I had dreams.” Marrying John and having a family, being a
writer, teaching and working with children. She’d worked hard to fulfill those
dreams. Could she help it if the first one took two people to make it come true?
When one of those people left how could it happen?

Unless John had left because he didn’t feel she was fully
committed. But that was crazy. She’d wanted to marry him since she was sixteen
years old. That hadn’t wavered until the decision was taken out of her hands by
his abrupt departure. Then it had been as though someone had died and she’d gone
through all the stages of grief. By the time he’d returned she’d detached from
their love and arrived at acceptance. She was cured of cancer—and of her love
for him. But before that she’d been as committed as he was.

Now he was saying she hadn’t been, or that he hadn’t felt it.
If true, this negated her image of herself as someone who lived life to the
fullest, loving and laughing with abandon. The bigger question was, was she
still withholding a part of herself? How could she tell? Currently there was no
man in her life. Maybe that in itself said something about her.