She couldn’t let this little, tiny, totally all-encompassing thing like harboring three girls stop her from at least trying to have the man of her dreams. Even if it meant she was breaking all sorts of social communication rules by returning a text well after midnight.
Cassie’s heart felt like Thumper from the old Bambi movie had moved in and taken residence. Then again, texting Jett wasn’t entirely to blame for that; she’d felt on the tip of a stroke for hours.
Four hours ago she’d shuffled clumsily through a conversation with Rachel about where the girls would be placed, and eventually the girls moved from Rachel’s car to hers. Three hours ago she’d foraged through her own totally unprepared pantry for some sort of hot meal to soothe the four-year-old’s incessant crying. But Kennedy cried through the offer of elbow noodles and butter, quinoa and black beans, and scrambled eggs. She cried through the offer of chicken noodle soup. She cried through the offer of five different types of cheese.
Despite Star’s attempts to calm her sister, Kennedy was clearly terrified. She had a 101.6-degree fever. She didn’t like or understand anything about her current situation—including Cassie. The child wouldn’t even look at her, and Cassie felt helpless in her own home. And so she kept cooking.
Two hours ago had been the heavy lifting. Cassie pushed a desk to the corner of the “office” she never utilized. Nearly decapitating herself in the process, she folded up the treadmill in the “gym room” she hadn’t touched since her short-lived New Year’s resolution of 2016. She dragged cardboard boxes of childhood keepsakes off the guest mattress.
Not that any of her work was very useful. In the end, Deidre and Kennedy deserted the beds Cassie made with soft, rose-colored quilts, covered with her own beloved stuffed animals from her own childhood. Cassie had followed a sneaky trail of water from the laundry room to Star’s bed, where she found Deidre and Kennedy snuggled up with their sister. Kennedy clutched the sopping wet dog, Tinker Bell, she had stolen from the wash.
At least it was cleaned.
That was more than could be said for the girls, as with the night they’d already had, Cassie hadn’t had the heart to try.
So after all were in bed, Cassie busied herself cleaning all the nonliving things around the house—as in things that wouldn’t scream violently whenever she touched them. It was 1:05 a.m. when she finally caught Jett’s text and was brought back to her former world.
Four minutes of deliberating passed before she wrote the short, playfully committed text and pressed Send. Cassie waited on her bed, knees bent to her chin, mildly aware of her own bated breath.
His reply was instant. Whoa, now. Didn’t realize I was signing up for dating a night owl.
The corners of Cassie’s lips twitched as she began to type. A turnoff? Tucked yourself in early?
When his reply didn’t come immediately, she picked up the cup of hot tea. She wasn’t worried.
Still, communicating without the ability to catch his facial cues or tone was enough to build up a little doubt. Perhaps she had annoyed him. Perhaps her message had woken him up and he was being serious.
She held the cup closely to her lips, focusing all her energy on watching the little tea grains floating in the tawny water. More specific, she was not focusing on his reaction. She was not focusing on potentially passive-aggressive responses or the growing feeling of regret.
Could she help it she was too excited to wait until the morning?
Finally, the phone beeped.
Nope. Still wide awake. Just tucking in all the kids.
Cassie exhaled, grinning at his joke.
Naturally. I almost forgot about the secret wife and kiddos.
She put her cup back on the bedside table and rubbed her eyes. The adrenaline of the day was wearing off like a drip pulled from her arm, and before she could get to the point of being too lazy to get up at all, she moved to the bathroom and took out her contacts. Her phone beeped as she spit toothpaste into the running water.
What about you? Night on the town? Or were you busy tucking in all your kids too?
If he only knew.
She rubbed her mouth on the hand towel and replied the only way he wouldn’t take her seriously. The truth.
Just hanging out in potential meth labs. Washing the kids’ clothes. Moving treadmills.
Your usual, then.
She grinned. Naturally. Off to bed now.
Night-night.
Cassie set her phone on the stand and switched off the light. She heard one of the youngest cough down the hall.
The image of two diverging roads sprawled across the back of her eyelids, and with quickening breath she opened her eyes, staring up at the blank ceiling.
This was going to be fine.
This wasn’t going to be an issue at all.
Cassie adjusted the feathery pillow beneath her head.
If given the time, she would fall for Jett Bentley. She knew it with a certainty that betrayed her slow and methodical methods.
It wasn’t just about settling for what was left of the litter. He was kind. He was fun. He made her laugh in the middle of a serious conversation. He was the kind of guy who leaned on the side of down-to-earth experiences, but at the same time knew how to take a girl out.
And most important, he had a credit score of 747. And a beat-up truck with 319,000 miles. Clearly she was well on her way to becoming a trophy wife.
But then, there were the girls.
Rachel had been vague about the children’s future. She’d said a meeting with DCS would come in a few weeks after Rachel gathered more information about the situation. The decision to bring the girls in right now had been only as a temporary haven.
Even so, Cassie wasn’t stupid. She knew Star’s family tree fairly well, and none of it included some benevolent aunt about to step up. So unless there was some long-lost relative willing to take the girls in, they were going to be displaced for a while. Maybe a long while.
What would Cassie do then, faced with that reality?
One day at a time. She’d just have to take it one day at a time.
Two separated, curvy roads shifted back into her mind and she punched the pillow beneath her once more, forcing her eyes to shut, and with it, the worries that would have to wait until tomorrow.
* * *
Had she told herself she would take it one day at a time? Silly her. She meant hour.
“No, no, Deidre. Let’s leave the doctor’s—” She blinked, unable to remember the word. Long sticks. Cardboard. No, not cardboard. Stickish. Of wood. It was only one o’clock and she felt like she needed an espresso IV. “Let’s leave the doctor’s bowl of sticks alone.”
“Tongue depressors,” the doctor said with a mild grin. He tried, yet again, to press the stethoscope to Kennedy’s back. “Can you hold her still?”
“Believe me, I’m trying.” Cassie regripped her arms around Kennedy’s waist. Kennedy arched back, another successful four-year-old thwarting two grown-ups.
At least for the moment she wasn’t crying.
The doctor pulled back after one more attempt, rolled his chair over to where Deidre was now inching her hand toward the glass jar of cotton balls, and picked up his clipboard. “I’m going to jump next door while we wait on the results. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Ms. Everson.”
Oh, sure. Super. No problem. These were all words she would’ve calmly said in her former single life. Are you crazy, however, was the phrase that now came most clearly to mind.
“Okay.” Cassie kept her voice calm while hoping he saw the screaming in her eyes. She was currently at that level of desperation—not yet pleading out loud for mercy, but begging without words.
“You’re doing great. But I would try to keep that one from licking the floor again.”
She nodded as she regripped Kennedy, the slippery worm who had in fact been caught licking the floor ten minutes earlier. The sound of the door shutting was like the nail in a coffin.
For not the fifteenth time today, she wished Star had stayed back from school to help her, not the other way around. Star was the one who was transitioning into all of this like the real adult. In fact, at 7:00 a.m. Cassie had walked into a kitchen of stacked plates and used frying pans, where Star had created a breakfast fit for queens: toast, bananas, and whole slices of cheese covering scrambled eggs. Kennedy ate three helpings of Star’s concoction, including Cassie’s share.
Star was the real grown-up here. And really, who needed algebra?
Kennedy squirmed her way off Cassie’s lap again and moved toward the doctor’s computer plug.
“Who wants another story?” Cassie plucked the book from the office’s top stack. Gingerly she turned the page, trying not to think about how many illnesses lived on it. She began reading the story of a big red dog making well-meaning but silly mistakes. In seconds Kennedy dropped the cord and jumped back onto Cassie’s lap as if they were the closest of friends. It took a couple of pages to draw Deidre in, but eventually her bony elbows pressed against Cassie’s thigh as she leaned over her to see the pages.
Which led to the questions.
“What’s that man doing?” Kennedy asked.
“He’s painting his house.”
“Why’s he painting his house?”
“Maybe the paint was peeling off.”
“Why did the paint peel off?”
“Maybe because it was old.” Cassie turned the page, reading the text above the furry feline in the tree. “‘As they walked along the sidewalk, they heard a strange sound. Why, it sounded like it came from the sky!’”
Deidre pointed. “What’s that man doing?”
“He’s going up a ladder into the tree.”
“Why’s he going up a ladder?”
Cassie took a new approach. “Because he’s a fireman, and that’s what happens when cats get stuck in trees. You call the fire department and they come to save your kitties.” Cassie turned to Deidre. “Do you like kittens, Deidre?”
Deidre looked up at her, the same serious expression in her gaze. She turned her head back to the page.
Deidre had not spoken since Cassie had found her hanging on Star’s hip at the apartment. Not one word.
Three more books and 120 questions from Kennedy later, the doctor returned and gave her the news.
“You have one tough cookie on your hands, Ms. Everson. Kennedy’s test came back positive for strep, plus a double ear infection. Ten days of amoxicillin should do it.” He ripped off a sheet and handed it to Cassie. “I’d also like to see them on a diet plan until they are up to full speed.”
Cassie scanned the list of food recommendations as he talked about their BMI.
“And . . .” Cassie hesitated, casting a glance to Deidre, trying to figure out how to word the question without her knowing. “About the . . . nonverbal . . . issue. Is there anything you would recommend? Anything I should be doing?”
His eyes dropped to Deidre as she flipped through Cassie’s keys. He held on to his clipboard. “I’ve added the numbers of a few specialists at the bottom of that page for that very reason. It could be a speech impediment, possibly a delay—” He glanced to his sheet. “—though everything else seems to indicate she’s right on track. Has she ever spoken to you before?”
Cassie shook her head, flooded with guilt at the knowledge that Deidre had been coming to the Haven for four months now and she’d never noticed. She saw her smile on occasion. Knew she was shy. But how could Cassie have not noticed that she wasn’t talking? Did she do her job at all?
“Well, I’d call Dr. Mernit first,” the doctor continued. “She does great work using play therapy. She’ll be an excellent resource. Otherwise, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Cassie thanked him, signed the lengthy medical form Rachel had forwarded to her at midnight the night prior, and discussed scheduling for a follow-up appointment in two weeks.
The next three hours, however, slipped by in a blur.
Picking up pills at the pharmacy should’ve taken ten minutes. The grocery stop on the way home should’ve taken twenty. A quick, spontaneous trip down the toy aisle of Target shouldn’t have been more than five.
And yet somehow—she couldn’t pinpoint how—it was four o’clock and there were still groceries on the counter to unload. As Cassie drew a bag toward herself, she caught Star looking at her from the bar stool, an environmental science book open beside her school computer.
“Are you going to quit your job?”
The question came out of nowhere.
“What?” Cassie pulled out one of five boxes of macaroni. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You skipped today.”
“And?”
Star shut her computer. “And you haven’t skipped a day since I started coming.”
Cassie shrugged, opening the cherrywood cabinet. “Sure I have.”
“No. You’ve made appointments and stuff, but you’ve never missed a whole day.”
“So I’m a genius, then, because I now have enough vacation days to roll me over to July.” Cassie took a few steps toward the window to glance in on the living room. Deidre was still at the coffee table coloring with the new glitter markers picked out on the toy aisle; Kennedy watched Mr. Jeeves slip up several steps. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting.
“You going to be gone tomorrow too?”
“Of course. Kennedy’s sick.” Cassie grabbed the frozen corn. “What else would I do with her?”
“Yeah.”
Star looked down, and suddenly, realizing what she’d said, Cassie did too. It was painful to be reminded of how different Star’s life had been before, how different the expectations were. To Cassie, this was exactly what happened when you were a sick child; you stayed home with a parent. You drank Sprite and ate loads upon loads of macaroni and cheese in bed. You watched way too much TV. When she was really sick, Cassie’s mother had even left a brass cowbell by her bedside, just because Cassie liked so much to see her mother come up the stairs when she rang it. Sure, she could have yelled, but that was the point. When you were sick, you got to be spoiled.
And here Cassie was, seeing firsthand exactly how Star and her sisters were treated. Forget the TV, the cowbells, the cookies. Their mother had put them in playpens. Their mother hadn’t even stuck around to make sure they lived.
The cupboard shut loudly, victim to Cassie trying for the umpteenth time not to hate a woman she’d never met or judge a person whose story she didn’t know. She forced herself to refocus. “Anyway, I’m planning to take the rest of the week off. That is if that’s okay with you, Supervisor Star.” Cassie attempted a grin as she leaned on the counter opposite her.
But Star just shoved her computer into the blue-and-white canvas bag temporarily serving as a backpack. It was one of Cassie’s bags she’d bought for a family beach trip the summer before, and even before Star slung the leather strap over her shoulder, she could tell it was entirely too adultish to be trendy. Nothing about it screamed cool, fierce teen.
“We can stop by Target and get you a new backpack after school, too, if you want,” Cassie added. “And anyway, Bree was pretty devastated she missed out on the toy-aisle trip today. The way she acted, you would’ve thought we went to Disneyland without her. But, if we pick her up from work on the way there tomorrow—”
“So, you’re not going to leave, then?”
Cassie paused, stood upright. “Not unless you want to pay me a salary plus benefits. What makes you so worried about this? Really?”
“Because everyone at the Haven would kill me if you quit. Because of us.” Star’s eyes darted to the window. “Because of me.”
Stilling, Cassie caught the significance of her words. If there was one thing Star was, it was confident.
Cassie wasn’t touchy-feely by nature, but even so, she reached forward and gave Star’s forearm a quick squeeze. “You know what, Star? I would gladly quit my job if I had to for you. Any day.”
Star returned her gaze at the touch, nodded, then shrugged as she pulled her arm back. “Yeah.” She tried to play it off, but she couldn’t keep the light grin from playing at her lips as she reached in for another notebook. “Anyway. I just wanted to make sure.”
It was one of the wonderful things Cassie and Star had in common: being terrible at public displays of emotion.
“Want to take a homework break and do a round of DB?”
“Seriously? You keep it here, too, Miss C? You’re such a nerd.”
Still, her lit-up eyes betrayed her words. Cassie took that as a yes and opened the junk drawer—an insufficient term, as even the pencils faced north. It wasn’t long before Dutch Blitz cards were flying and tea bags steeping.
On the third game, however, came a distant but familiar sound.
Cassie’s shoulders jerked up. “What is that?”
Star wrinkled her forehead, her tone heavily suggesting she was questioning Cassie’s intelligence. “A . . . fire truck.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I mean—” Cassie set her cards on the counter. “—why is there a fire truck coming down our road? Our totally unpopulated, three-mailboxes-on-the-whole-street road?”
“You’re getting paranoid.” Star followed on Cassie’s heels to the living room. “You know, Miss C, just because one guy steals a fire truck and bribes everyone with presents to get in good with you doesn’t mean it’ll happen again.”
Cassie flicked open the blinds, watching the flashes of red lighting up the neighbors’ fields. It had already passed one driveway. There was only hers and Betty’s left. “Want to bet?”
She turned around and found the two younger girls beside the Christmas tree, grinning proudly. Too proudly.
“We did it! We did it!” Kennedy’s shrill voice filled the living room as she clutched Cassie’s phone to her chest.
Cassie’s stomach sank. “Did what, girls? What did you do?”
“They’re going to save Mr. Jeeves, just like the book said!”
“Save . . . Mr. Jeeves?”
Cassie followed Kennedy’s pointing finger to the top of the Christmas tree. Through the branches, she could see her cat’s jewel-toned eyes. Though impossible, she felt she saw him smile.
Oh, no. No. No. No.
Cassie bent down to Kennedy and Deidre’s level. “Girls, I am so—” Nope, mortified wasn’t the best word choice just now. “—proud of you for knowing who to call in an emergency. Just like the dog book showed us.” Note to self: screen all children’s books from now on. “But you know what?”
Deidre blinked.
“What?” Kennedy said.
“I’m going to have to talk with the nice firemen for a minute, so how about you go with Star to—” Cassie fumbled momentarily, searching for some interesting, quiet activity “—get ready for bed?”
Their eyes stared back at her blankly.
Yeah. She’d have to work on her motherly, summon-inspired-ideas-on-command skills.
“And . . . ,” Cassie said with emphasis as the sirens grew louder. They blinked their glassy eyes. “Wear your pretty new pajamas!”
Kennedy’s brows furrowed. Cassie was getting worse.
“And eat brownies? In bed?” Cassie asked.
Bingo.
“All the brownies!” Kennedy squealed, hopping a few times.
“Sure!” Cassie responded with equal enthusiasm.
“And a movie!” Kennedy added.
“Why not?” Cassie said, hopping along with her.
Kennedy’s voice shrilled like an excited kitten. “And Mountain Dew!”
A squeal of brakes sounded at her doorstep. Cassie’s hopping stopped. Not even forty-eight hours in, and all her grandiose plans for healthy snacks and activities were flying out the window. She nudged the girls toward the steps. “Yeah! I don’t have Mountain Dew, but yeah! Whatever I can find in the refrigerator.”
Television. Chocolate. Soda. Might as well throw in a cigarette for the road.
She kicked a box of crayons underneath the sofa, crammed a stack of construction paper into the drawer of a side table, shoved the glittery unicorn backpacks into the closet. Catching sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace, she pushed down the lump at the top of her messy bun. The sounds of vehicle doors opening and closing came just as she tossed the last can of Coke to Star up the stairs.
She paused and took a breath. It felt awkward hiding the girls upstairs like a big secret. Awkward. And made her feel a bit guilty.
But if the man of her twenty-four-hour dreams just so happened to be on the other side of that door, and the girls were all sitting around eating bonbons, two things could happen. Jett could shrug his shoulders, laugh about the little mishap with the cat, and—without showing any recognition of the three strange children in her house at all—go about his merry business.
Or, and what was about 99 percent likely, he could ask.
Oh, and who are these lovely ladies? Oh. How long are they staying? Well, what did their social worker say? And if she can’t find any other relatives? Insert the bulging eyes. You mean you are planning to adopt these kids if given the chance? These three kids? The teenager? All three?
And then he’d trip over his own ax as he stumbled out the door.
There was another rule for her future bestseller on dating: never freak a guy out with three kids twenty-four hours after your first date.
No, she wouldn’t lie to Jett about the girls if he asked. Not on a matter this significant to her heart. She wouldn’t lie . . . which was exactly why she had to hide them.
It was the only moral thing to do.
A knock sounded on the door. Game time.
“Jett. Why, hello.” Cassie plastered on a cool and confident smile as she swung open the door.
“Cassie?” Jett popped off his helmet and put it to his hip. He grinned. “Gotta say I wasn’t expecting you here.”
“You either.” Boy, was that the understatement of the year.
“Was expecting someone half your size, actually.” He volleyed his head, his gaze roving around the living room.
“Oh? Well, you got me.”
“It was you? Really? Dispatch said it was a kid.”
Her voice lifted several notes. “I have a very young voice over the phone.”
She gave a high little laugh. He echoed with a low, uncertain one.
“Well?” he said, as though dubious on how to proceed. “How about I come in and see to this cat problem?”
“Oh. Sure.” The problem. Cassie turned on her heels.
He followed behind her, stopping at the Christmas tree.
“Where are we looking?” He turned in a circle, searching the ceiling.
Cassie took a breath.
Pointed. “In there.”
Jett lowered his gaze to the direction of her finger, a finger nearly parallel to her head. He touched a branch. “Here?”
She closed her eyes. Nodded.
He stepped closer. “In this tree?”
She nodded again.
The room was silent as Jett reached in and pulled out Mr. Jeeves. He set him on the ground. Mr. Jeeves gave him a distrustful blink before whisking his tail and moving into the kitchen.
Cassie’s grandfather clock informed them of the hour, and for eight long chimes they both watched the ground intently.
She felt him quietly assessing her sanity.
She fretted with the hem of her blouse. “I have a thing about pine needles.”
Excellent. So apparently small lies that did not, in fact, help with the case for her sanity were just fine.
“Ah. See, we didn’t cover that at the aquarium.” His eyes fell on the pine-scented candle on the coffee table, drifted over the twelve-foot garland hanging over the mantel, and stopped on the miniature Christmas tree cheerfully lit on the floor beside the glider.
“It’s a really new thing,” Cassie added.
“Uh-huh.” Still, he smiled, clapping his gloves. “Well, would’ve preferred knocking on your door with flowers instead of a firehose, but I’m still glad to drop in. You’ve got a nice house out here, Cassie. I like your mantel.” He put one gloved hand on the dark wood over the fireplace. “And these windows. Good insulation.”
Cassie locked her fingers together. “Thank you. I always try to have good insulation.”
“Yep. A very important trait in a woman.” He paused, seeming to wait on her to say something, ask something, do something.
Though it came at a volume of a mouse’s scuffle, Cassie heard a break of laughter floating down the stairs from the girls’ room. She gave a loud cough as she grabbed Jett’s arm by the coat. “Where are my manners? I’ll give you a tour.”
Jett obligingly let her speed him through the kitchen, dining room, living room, and bathroom of the first floor.
“I see we have a mutual fondness for macaroni.” He stopped at the oversized pot. Coupled with Kennedy’s discovered obsession for the sea-shaped cheesy animals and Cassie’s complete inexperience in cooking for four, Cassie had gone a little overboard. Seven boxes later, the stockpot was still full from dinner.
“You never know when a midnight craving will strike.”
“You mean, all this is for you after dinner?”
“Are other guys waiting outside?” Cassie swiftly walked him through the hall and parked him at the front door. “Well, thanks a million.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a sideways grin. He put his helmet on. “A day in the life, ma’am.”
She opened the door to let him out. He’d be out of his mind to go on another date after this.
“See you tomorrow, crazy cat lady.” He winked and hopped down the front steps.
Her icy breath of relief formed crystals in the air. “Looking forward to more compliments on my insulation.”
Jett stopped at the fire engine, calling out as he put his hand on the passenger door. “Just so you know, I’ll be covering the three-point line in pine needles.”
“Sure.” She laughed. “Whatever it takes to give you a leg up.”
Back inside, Cassie waved from the living-room window as she watched the engine roll out of the driveway, then collapsed on the couch, her head falling into her hands.
Well, that had gone worse than she anticipated.
She had to tell him. Surely she had to explain everything, emphasizing that nothing about her situation would change anything for the two of them.
Right. Because a heavy conversation on a second date wouldn’t make him flee like a spotlighted convict.
She rubbed her temples, eyes closed. It was a catch-22 all the way around. If she was a proactive communicator, she could scare him away; if she hid the situation, she was playing with fire—and looking a little insane over cats and pine trees. Not to mention all this trouble could be for naught. How could she successfully date a man who didn’t want kids? She couldn’t change the man. She knew that from painful personal experience.
But was it possible she could turn the girls away if the time came to make that decision?
Cassie squeezed her eyes tighter, then opened them. Straight in front of her sat a red streak of crayon across the perfectly white sofa. She hesitated, then ran the tip of her finger along it.
Another muted giggle floated down the stairs, and Cassie rose.
Another day. She would just have to table the worry for another day.
“Making room for me up there?” she called, and legged it up two at a time.