Single with Kids

Ginny giggled. “You’re silly. Where’s Joey?”

“His mom has him at a party, and I imagine he’s being spoiled rotten as we speak.” Pete got to his feet as Jen came outside. “So how’s your first month on the EMT service going?”

She smiled, the mask firmly back in place. “Excellent, thanks. I’m sure it’s the right thing for me to do.”

“That’s all well and good, but we sure do miss you in the shop,” Rob said. “You don’t even want to know what your files look like at this point.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “I can imagine. Dad takes ’em out of the drawer and just piles them on the desk when he’s done. I guess he expects the file fairy to come in overnight and put everything back. I’m off this weekend—I’ll take a few hours and straighten up the mess.”

Rob nodded. “That would be a godsend. I’m getting so many calls these days I don’t have time for paperwork except at night. I hate having those files piled high and getting mixed up or, worse, lost.”

Jenny put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, bro. You don’t have to do everything.”

“Amazing how many people get locked out of their houses or cars, isn’t it?” Pete shook his head. “I did it myself just after Joey was born. Walked out the door to visit the hospital and left the house keys inside.”

Rob thought back seven months or so. “I don’t remember getting a call from you.”

“I climbed in through a window.” The state trooper winked at Rob. “And you don’t need to tell me about home security, or being sure your windows are shut and locked. That’s my line. I am thinking about an alarm system, though. That way, I’ll feel better about Mary Rose and Joey at home without me. Can you give me a good deal?”

“Don’t I wish. I keep nudging Dad toward the security business—electronic locks and alarm systems. But he digs in his heels every time. ‘Three generations of Warrens have made locksmith work their life.’” Rob imitated his dad’s gruff tone. “‘It was good enough for my daddy, it’s good enough for me. Why the—’” He glanced at Ginny and changed his words. “‘Why in the world ain’t it good enough for you?’”

“Too bad.” Pete stirred, stood up and stepped off the porch. “I guess I’ll get myself home again. I’m a grown man—I ought to be able to survive an hour or two on my own.” But still he hesitated, a lost look on his face. “How long can a wedding shower last, anyway?”

When Pete had gone, Rob turned to Ginny. “You ready for bed, sweetheart? If you want to go on inside, I’ll say good-night to Aunt Jen and be there to tuck you in shortly.”

Ginny frowned. “Do I have to go to bed? It’s Friday night, and there’s no school tomorrow. We could watch a movie, right?”

The tired ache in his shoulders felt like a boulder sitting on his neck. “I’m pretty much worn out, Gin— I don’t think I’ll make it through a movie, starting this late. How about we plan to watch a movie tomorrow night?”

“I’m not tired.” The crossness in her voice belied her words. “I want a movie tonight.”

Jen stepped up and put an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “Come on, Gin-Gin, I’ll tuck you in. We can read abou—”

“No.” Ginny couldn’t stomp her foot, so she banged her crutch on the porch floor, scaring Mat the Cat back into the grass. “Other kids get to stay up late on Fridays and watch movies and eat pizza and candy. I never get to do fun stuff like that.”

Rob put up a hand. “Ginny, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I get boring dinners and a bedtime like I was a baby. Joey’s not in bed yet and he’s only seven months old. He’s at a party!” She maneuvered around to face the door and fumbled with the door handle. When Jen reached out to help, Ginny slapped her aunt’s arm away. “I can get it myself. I’m not a total freak. I can open a door.”

Jen stepped back. “I was just trying to help.”

Ginny was past noticing anybody else’s feelings. “I don’t need help. I need a real life.” She got the door open, propelled herself into the kitchen and then managed to slam the panel behind her. Rob chuckled as he heard the lock click.

Jen looked at him, her eyes round. “She locked you out?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “She does, every once in a while.”

“But—”

“It’s okay. After the first time, I made sure never to leave the house without my keys, even to take out the garbage.” Putting his arm around her shoulders, he gave her a hug. “Thanks for helping out tonight. Sorry you got such lousy feedback.”

She shook her head and started down the steps. “You know I love being with Ginny—even when she’s throwing a tantrum. Mom said to tell you she’d be over tomorrow night as usual.”

“I might call and ask if she can make it earlier, so we can have this movie night Ginny wants.”

“I’m sure that’ll work. ’Night, Rob.” She crossed the backyard to the stand of yellow oak trees they’d planted between his house and hers. “Get some sleep yourself.”

“I will.” He raised his hand in return to Jen’s wave, until she disappeared into the shadows under the leaves.

After another minute of peace and quiet, Rob dug his keys out and unlocked the kitchen door. Inside the house, the television was defiantly loud. A ghostly flicker filled the living room. Ginny had put on her movie.

His little girl lay in front of the TV on top of her big soft floor pillows, with her crutches discarded nearby. Her eyes were open, but she pretended to ignore his presence, punishing him for the treachery of exhaustion.

With a sigh, Rob sat in the recliner in the corner. The cool leather embraced him, molded to his body by years of use. He’d slept in this chair many an hour, holding his daughter through a long, disturbed night. He could do it again. Even with loud cartoon voices and sound effects in his ears.

Along about midnight, though, when the movie had ended and the videotape had rewound, and when Ginny had fallen fast asleep, he got up and knelt to lift her from the floor. She hardly weighed a hundred pounds, no burden at all for him to carry. He set her gently down on the bed in her room and pulled the covers close—she would be chilled if she didn’t use the blankets. After a return trip to the living room for the crutches, he stood for a little bit watching her sleep.

The daytime lines of effort and disappointment vanished from Ginny’s face when she slept, so she appeared carefree in a way she never did when awake. He could see her mother in her thick reddish hair, the soft rose tint of her cheeks. Leah had been beautiful, enthusiastic, vibrant with life. If she had lived, she might have helped them discover the joy amidst all the compromises, limitations and accommodations. Rob knew they were lucky—Ginny’s disabilities could have been much worse.

As things stood, though, Ginny and he had struggled from the very first time he’d heard the words “cerebral palsy” applied to his child. Rob had long since given up believing that one day the struggle would end.

In his own room, he dropped his jeans and shirt onto the floor and fell facedown on the bed. He was on call for the shop tomorrow, which would keep him tied to his pager and cell phone all day long. And he had a basketball game at 7:30 a.m. Getting some more sleep tonight would be a really good idea…

Only minutes later—or so it seemed—a small fist pounded at his shoulder. “Daddy? Daddy, wake up. It’s the phone.” Ginny stood by his bed. “I let it ring a thousand times.”

Rob ran a hand over his face and realized it was daylight. “Man. I didn’t know I was asleep. Sorry.” He picked up the phone Ginny had dropped on the bed. “’Lo?”

“Rob? This is Valerie Manion.”

With an effort, he pulled himself together and sat up in bed. “Hey, Valerie. How are you?”

“I’ve been better, actually.” Her Yankee accent seemed sharper than he remembered. “I hate to bother you so early, but I need a locksmith as soon as possible.”

He glanced at the clock. Damn. He’d slept through the basketball game. “What’s the problem? Keys locked in the car?”

“Nothing so simple. I need to have all the locks changed today. According to the police, this house was previously used as a dope distribution center. The Realtor didn’t tell me that, of course—just fixed the place up and sold it for a good price.”

“You talked to the police?”

The deep breath she drew definitely sounded shaky. “I called them last night when someone tried to break into the house.”

CHAPTER TWO

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Rob said. “Are your kids all right?”

Hearing the concern in his voice, Valerie felt the tension inside her relax a little. “We’re fine. The police arrived while the guy was still trying to jimmy the back door lock, so they caught and arrested him on the spot.”

“Thank God. You spent the rest of the night with a neighbor, right?”

“Um…no. We don’t really know our neighbors yet—we only moved in last week.”

“You went to a motel?”

“We stayed here, and I pushed a couple of pieces of furniture in front of the doors.” Valerie thought back to the struggle of sliding the kitchen cupboard across the floor. “Heavy furniture.”

By his stunned silence, she could tell Rob thought her choice a poor one. Who made him the expert, anyway? She could take care of herself and her kids without a man’s input.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Well, you’re right about one thing—you do need your locks changed this morning. That’s no problem—I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Thanks.” She set the phone down, propped her chin on her knuckles and closed her eyes. Grace and Connor were still asleep in her bed, where they’d all cuddled once the police had left and the doors were blocked. Valerie had stayed awake, listening to the multitude of night sounds and wondering about the windows, which were locked but vulnerable nonetheless. She’d never been quite so glad to see a sunrise as she was this morning.

Before she could give in to the need for a nap, the black van Rob had driven yesterday pulled into her drive. Blue and white lettering on the side advertised Warren and Sons Locksmiths. Somewhere in the middle of last night’s terse police questions and frantic children’s tears, her brain had latched on to a fact she’d only skimmed yesterday afternoon—Rob Warren was a locksmith. His phone number on Ginny’s information sheet had relieved at least one of her worries.

With a strength that seemed to come out of nowhere, she pushed the TV cabinet away from the front door. “I’m so glad to see you,” she called as he and Ginny crossed the grass. “Thanks for coming out this early.” Her pleasure in seeing him was totally out of proportion to the occasion. He was coming to do a job. Right?

Rob stopped at the foot of the porch steps and grinned at her. “You’re more than welcome. I’d have come last night, if you’d called. I hate to think of y’all barricaded behind furniture to stay safe.” He looked the way a man should on a hot Saturday morning in August—relaxed and comfortable in a dark blue T-shirt and faded jeans that hung a little loose on his long legs, with his hair combed back and damp from a shower.

“Grace and Connor are still asleep,” she said, willing her pulse to slow down. “But it’s good to see you, Ginny. Come in and make yourself at home.”

Ginny moved ahead of her dad, who waited behind her as she slowly climbed the steps—one crutch, then the other and then her braced legs. Her face was a frozen blank, as if she was trying to deny her own effort.

Valerie held the door open, then followed father and daughter inside. “I apologize for the place being such a wreck. We just moved in last week, and I’m still unpacking boxes at night after work. The kitchen’s the neatest, Ginny, if you want to sit in there.”

Unlike her dad, Ginny did not have a ready smile. “Whatever.”

Rob glanced at her with lowered brows, but didn’t comment. “Which locks did this guy mess with?”

“The front and back doors. He wasn’t a pro, obviously, because he didn’t get through either one, and started pounding away with something, trying just to break the door open. The police said he used a tire iron.”

Nodding, Rob turned back to the front door and squatted down to examine the deformed dead bolt and splintered wood around it. His long fingers moved lightly across the different surfaces. He clicked his tongue. “This lock was no great shakes to begin with. But he’s pretty much destroyed your door.” In a clean, easy motion, he straightened to his full height. “How about the back?”

“This way.” She led him through to the kitchen and heard Ginny follow them across the wood floor with a thump of crutches.

“Oops, I haven’t moved that cupboard yet.”

“Excuse me.” His warm hand on her shoulder gently set her aside.

Valerie made sure Ginny took a chair at the kitchen table and then went to join him in pushing the big, heavy piece.

Rob shook his head. “I’ll get this.”

She put her hands on the oak frame. “I can move my own furniture.”

“I see that. But you don’t have to while I’m here. Just step back.”

“All you have to add is ‘little lady’ and I’ll believe you’re John Wayne.” She didn’t smile as she said it.

His eyes widened and his mouth firmed into a straight line. “Well then, since I’m not the Duke, I guess we’ll do it your way.”

“I will admit,” Valerie said when they’d shoved the cupboard against the wall, “that putting this thing in place again with you took a lot less time than moving it by myself.”

Rob gave her a wink before turning to the back door. This time, he didn’t need to bend over to see the damage. “Looks like he went at this one harder ’cause he didn’t figure he’d be seen in back. This is another new door and lock. And the door frame’s damaged, too. Before you can put in a decent lock, that’ll need to be replaced.”

Valerie dropped into a chair at the table. “So we really can’t stay here another night. I know a carpenter won’t come out on Saturday.” On top of a sleepless night—and Con’s phone call—the whole ordeal pressed down on her shoulders with the weight of a millstone. “I hate leaving our stuff at the mercy of whoever comes by. But—”

“Hold on a minute.” Rob sat down across from her, with Ginny between them. “We can do better than that. I’ve hung a few doors in my time, but I’ve got a couple of friends who are professionals. Let me see what I can rustle up.”

“You don’t—”

He didn’t wait for her protest, but whipped out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Hey, Adam. Yeah, I actually did. Sorry ’bout that. Listen, have you and Dixon got plans this morning? I have a lady in distress here, and I think you could help.” After an explanation and a few quick words, he closed the phone. “There you go—they’ll be here in about an hour. They were just sitting down to breakfast.”

Valerie set aside her irritation at the “lady in distress” description and got to her feet. “Speaking of food, have you eaten anything, either of you?” She looked at Ginny, who pouted and shook her head. “Well, that’s a problem I can solve right away.”

Rob put up a hand. “Why don’t I just go get some doughnuts, or—”

“Not a chance.” She, too, could boss people around, including this smooth-talking, dictatorial Southern gentleman. “I’ve got a decent breakfast in the fridge and it won’t take long to put together. Do you drink coffee?” she asked, with her head inside the refrigerator. “I try to avoid the stuff on the weekends because I live on it all week, but I can make a pot.”

“I’m a tea drinker, myself.”

“I have some tea bags.” She pushed the refrigerator door closed with her hip. “I’ll make you a cup.”

“Well, actually—do you have any iced tea?”

She stopped in front of him, a carton of eggs in one hand and a jug of milk in the other. “Iced tea? At breakfast?”

“Lunch, dinner and bedtime, too.” His eyes twinkled, reminding her of Connor at his most mischievous.

“I don’t know how to make iced tea.”

“I could show you.”

“You make tea?”

“My daddy makes the best,” Ginny put in. “He learned from my grandmama. When our family gets together for a picnic, everybody wants Daddy to make the tea.”

Valerie gestured toward the pantry with the milk. “Well, clearly I’m in the presence of a master. Be my guest.”

By the time she’d scrambled eggs and broiled bacon, Rob had produced a pitcher of tea and Grace stood at the door to the kitchen with Connor behind her, blinking at their early guests. “Mom? What’s going on?”

“Good morning, sleepyheads. Come to the table. Mr. Warren and Ginny are here for breakfast, and then Mr. Warren is going to fix the locks on the doors.”

Not budging a step farther, Grace glanced at the back door. “Did that man come back?”

“No. No, he won’t come back. The police took him away, remember?”

“C’mon, dummy, move!” Connor pushed from behind and stomped past his stumbling sister into the kitchen. “I’m hungry.” In the middle of the room, though, he stopped short and pointed at Ginny. “She’s in my chair.”

Valerie nodded at the space next to Rob. “We brought in a new chair for you. Grace, come sit beside me.”

“I’m not sitting next to her.” Connor walked around to his usual place. “Give me my chair.”

Ginny stared at him with a challenge in her eyes. “No.”

“Ginny—” Rob started.

“Mommy,” Connor whined, “I want my chair.”

She took his hand and led him to the other side of the table. “You will sit here. Or you won’t eat.” Her son slouched into the disputed seat. With his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks puffed and lower lip stuck out, he resembled a grouchy frog.

Ignoring him, Valerie looked at her daughter. “Come sit down, Grace, before the food gets cold.” After another moment of hesitation, Grace sidled in behind the table to sit next to her brother, who promptly blew a raspberry at her.

“Hey.” Rob’s hand closed over Connor’s shoulder. “That’s no fair.”

Connor turned his freckled face toward Rob. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t blow raspberries without a reason.”

“Who says?”

“It’s the rule.”

“Whose rule?”

“Everybody knows raspberries don’t count unless the other guy—or girl—did something to you first.” With a shrug, Rob sat back in his seat. “That’s the law of the land.”

With eyebrows lowered and lips pursed, Connor stared at him for a long time. At last, he turned to Valerie. “Can I have some eggs now?”

“Please,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “Can I please have some eggs now?”

“Good man,” Rob told him with a grin.

Valerie watched as Connor started to smile back, then quickly reverted to his standard belligerent attitude. After a year of his moods, she’d begun to wonder if the cheerful little boy she’d once known would ever reappear. Thanks to Rob Warren, she now saw that he still lurked beneath the mask—daunted but not gone forever.

Once the kids cleared the table after breakfast, Ginny returned to her chair and Grace and Connor went to get dressed. Valerie attempted to load the dishwasher without Rob’s help.

“I can do that,” he insisted. “You cooked. I want to clean up.”

“I will finish the kitchen,” she said through gritted teeth. “Sit down and drink your tea or go for a walk around the block. But don’t stand here in my way.”

A knock at the front door forestalled his answer. She started to leave the kitchen, then turned back. “Don’t touch the dishwasher,” she warned. “Or heads will roll.”

He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Ginny and I will come along so you can keep an eye on me.”

“Good idea.” When she reached the door, she found two good-looking guys in shorts, T-shirts and sneakers standing on the porch.

The taller one spoke first. “Ms. Manion? I’m Dixon Bell, and this is Adam DeVries. Rob Warren gave us a call about your doors?”

Rob stepped up behind her. “About time y’all showed up. I was beginning to think I’d have to hang these doors by myself.”

“God f-forbid,” Adam DeVries said. “You’d never get them square.”

“Wait a minute.” Valerie shook her head. “I thought I read in the paper…saw somewhere…that the name of the mayor is DeVries.”

The dark-haired man smiled at her. “That’s me. And on b-behalf of New Skye, I’d like to w-welcome you and your f-family to the city. We’re glad to h-have you.” His gaze dropped to the doorknob and he scowled. “Although this is not at all the kind of reception you should have gotten. I’ll be talking to the police chief.”

“Adam owns a construction business,” Rob said over her shoulder. “And when he’s not putting down other people’s best efforts, he does a good job. Dixon has done a lot of restoration work on his own house, so he’s another one you can trust to get your doors hung right.”

She felt as if she was being swept along by a river of masculinity. “I really don’t want to bother you—”

“It’s no bother.” Dixon smiled, and she realized he was nearly as handsome as Rob, with a moonlight-and-magnolias accent all his own. “We’re glad to help a new neighbor.”

Adam pulled a tape measure out of his pocket and reached to the top of her door. “All we have to do is m-measure, then we can get the right-size d-doors and get on with the j-job.” The mayor seemed quieter than his friends, but his steady gaze was reassuring. Valerie decided he had her vote.

“We’ll need to measure the back door and check out the frame,” Rob warned. “That’s got to be replaced, too.”

The men were soon deep into a cryptic conversation involving tools, wood and screws. Valerie stood her ground, trying to understand, hoping to remain an active part of the process. In the end, however, she assured Rob that Ginny was welcome to stay with her while he went for supplies and then watched helplessly from the front porch as the three of them got into a white pickup truck and drove off.

When she turned back into the house, Ginny stood nearby. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Valerie called up her most encouraging smile. “Well, let’s go find out what Grace is up to.” She led Ginny down the hallway to Grace’s bedroom, only to find the door closed. “Grace, are you okay?”

Her daughter opened the door to create a narrow crack she could peer through. “Yes.” Her glance flicked to Ginny and then away.

“Ginny’s here while her dad has gone to get the new doors. I thought the two of your might find something to do together.”

The hesitation in Grace’s face was easy to read, and Valerie felt sure Ginny saw it. But after a long moment, the door opened all the way.

“Sure,” her daughter said, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Come in.”

Valerie stepped to the side, giving Ginny room to pass. She could practically feel the temperature drop below freezing. “I’m going to help Connor unpack his room,” she told them. “He’s been waiting all week. So, you two…um…have fun.”

The two girls stared at her, their expressions a similar mix of impatience, resentment and uncertainty. Valerie turned her back and escaped to the simple world of the seven-year-old male. Maybe there she could establish a position of authority.

As she reached Connor’s door, a foam missile hit her in the face.

Then again, maybe not.

GRACE RETREATED to her bed, leaving the other girl the rest of the room. After a couple of minutes, the girl came in—you couldn’t call it walking, exactly, with the crutches. She stopped in the middle of the rug, looked around but didn’t say anything.

“What do you want to play?” Grace said at last, just to end the silence.

“I don’t care,” the girl said without looking at Grace.

“Do you like dolls?”

“Dolls are for babies.”

Grace glanced at her favorites, all lined up on the bed. She hoped they hadn’t heard. “Um…I have puzzles.”

“Boring.”

She didn’t see how they could play dress up. And she didn’t want to play dress up with the girl, anyway. “We could build with Lego’s. Or play Life.”

The girl sighed, went to the chair at the desk and sat down. Grace gasped when she remembered that she’d left her diary there, open. She started to jump up and grab it out from under the girl’s face.