WENDY TRAILED BEHIND Tom down to a small, secluded creek. The peaks of the Chugach Mountains were visible over the tree line and red-breasted nuthatches sang from a nearby branch.
A sense of intimacy had formed between her and Tom after she’d told him about her mother’s disease. And for some weird reason a weight had been lifted off her by sharing it with him. The fact he hadn’t raced for the hills afterward was a nice surprise as well.
Tom was a good man. The more she got to know him, the more she could see that.
He was devoted to his daughter, devoted to his work, devoted to his patients.
He’d probably be just as devoted to the woman he loved.
Sadness pierced her chest, before she brushed it away.
That wouldn’t be her. She had no business getting romantically involved with Tom Farber. She wasn’t what he needed. Couldn’t be. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she’d be around in ten years. After all, Huntington’s symptoms could start anytime between thirty and fifty and her mother had definitely been on the younger side—the disease taking her life at thirty-eight.
Perhaps she was being silly. Perhaps she should go ahead and get her results.
Put an end to all this terror and strife. Put the cards on the table once and for all.
Wendy stumbled over a stone in the path, distracted by her racing thoughts.
Tom reached out to steady her, his bright blue gaze locking with hers, and time seemed to slow. He looked as dazed as she felt. One of his hands held hers while his other slid around her waist. Tentatively he drew her in closer, closer, until his lips brushed hers in a light kiss.
Stunned, Wendy stood still for a moment, taking it all in—the warmth of his firm lips, the pounding of his heart against hers, the taste of coffee on his tongue.
Before she could overthink her actions, she rose on tiptoe and kissed him back. He hugged her tighter and she couldn’t resist sliding her hands down his muscular back as he deepened the kiss. Tom groaned low, the sound vibrating in her mouth.
They stood near the edge of an ivy umbrella stretching from the cement footing of a footbridge to the trunk of a tree. The scent of honeysuckle filled her lungs and the sweetness of it all made her toes curl.
“Get a room!” a passing canoeist on the creek shouted, laughing.
They broke apart, panting, neither saying a word.
Wendy felt blindsided, astonished, awake for the first time in years.
“Sorry,” Tom whispered, his gaze still focused on her lips. “I didn’t... I don’t...”
They walked back uphill, Tom holding her hand this time.
Things with him felt nice, companionable and so far out of Wendy’s comfort zone she had no idea what to do from here. She was used to casual hook-ups, not postcard moments.
They walked back to the hospital where her car was parked, the odd silence like a third wheel between them. She kept sneaking glances Tom’s way, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was unreadable.
As they entered Anchorage Mercy again, they separated, in professional territory now. Two elevators opened, and Wendy made for the closest one, along with the rest of the waiting patrons. Tom held her back, however, shaking his head and glancing at the second, empty option. She raised her brows then marched into that one with him. As the doors snapped shut, he kissed her again, all tenderness gone now in favor of passionate intensity. His hands were everywhere—her hips, her leg, the nape of her neck as his lips claimed hers.
The elevator stopped with an abrupt jolt on the next floor, forcing them apart.
Wendy tried to look nonchalant as more nurses and doctors and visitors piled on. Tom’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, his somber expression telling her something was off.
“Everything okay?” she asked. “Is it Sam?”
“Everything’s fine.” His clipped words, though, reflected the exact opposite. “Just the school, letting me know they appreciated my generous donation to the booster fund.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket and stared straight ahead. “She’s my top priority these days. I don’t want anything to hurt her again.”
Right. The reminder was like a bucket of ice water poured over Wendy’s head.
His daughter was the only reason she was spending all this time with Tom. The sooner she remembered that, the better. She’d agreed to help him. That was all. Once Sam had settled into her new life, this would all be over, then she could get back to normal.
Because that’s what she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
The sexual tension sizzling between them cooled as they walked back into Aiyana’s room and her sister-in-law gave them each an appraising look. Wendy’s lips still tingled from Tom’s kisses and she wondered if she looked as guilty as she felt.
“What have you two been doing?” Aiyana asked, the baby in her arms alert and curious.
She shifted the little boy from one arm to the other, then began breastfeeding her tiny daughter. The room filled with the sounds of sucking and breathing, a steady beat, with little gulps in between.
Wendy ignored her question and sat on the edge of the bed. “Where’s Ned?”
“He went out to get some food. I was craving sushi.”
Tom walked past and squeezed Wendy’s shoulder, the gesture making Aiyana’s brows rise. Her sister-in-law mouthed, “Oh, my God.”
And Wendy mouthed back, “It’s nothing.”
Except, deep down, it didn’t feel like nothing.
In fact, it felt like this nothing might just turn out to be something after all. And that alone made Wendy want to turn tail and run. Of course, Ned had to walk in with bags of food then and block her exit.
“Where’s my sushi?” Aiyana asked, staring at the two containers of California rolls Ned had set on her lap. “That’s not sushi.”
“Yes, it is,” Ned said.
“Nah. Sashimi...now, that’s sushi.” She bit her lip, staring longingly at the raw salmon in her husband’s container, then at Tom. “I can finally eat sashimi again, can’t I?”
Tom gave Ned an apologetic look. “Yes. It’s fine once you’re breastfeeding, as long as it’s from a reputable place.”
Ned sighed then held out his box to her. “Want to trade?”
Aiyana gave him a closed-mouth smile. “No, go ahead, paipiirak. It’s fine. But next time get me some too, okay?”
“Okay, uuman.” Ned blew her a kiss.
Wendy held her niece and Tom took the little boy while the new parents dug into their meal with gusto.
“You guys want some?” Ned nudged Tom’s arm and offered him a California roll.
He shook his head, though Wendy would’ve sworn she heard his stomach rumble.
More guilt set in. He had mentioned grabbing a bite to eat earlier.
“No, thanks.” Tom cooed over and cuddled her nephew for a few minutes. Seeing him hold the baby made the dormant maternal part of Wendy go all soft and gooey again. She bent to kiss the little girl in her arms. She smelled like freshness and perfection, and Wendy traced one downy cheek with her finger. At times like this she missed her mother most, remembering the nights she’d comforted Wendy after she’d had nightmares. The times she’d patch up her scrapes and bruises from her Little League games. The stories and books they’d read together. Little Women had been her mother’s favorite.
Ned and Aiyana finished their meal and reluctantly Wendy put her niece back in her bassinet. “I should go. Errands to run and stuff to do.” She said her goodbyes, hugging her sister-in-law and her brother. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do, sis,” Ned said. “Thanks again for coming.”
Tom waited for her by the door, and a new twinge of anxiety welled inside Wendy. The kisses they’d shared by the creek and in the elevator had been wonderful, but anything more would be a mistake. By the time they left the building and stood outside on the plaza, she knew the wise thing would be to forget about what had happened between her and Tom and take some time to get her head screwed back on straight before she did something foolish. Or more foolish. Ugh. Emotions were feral beasts and she didn’t like to need anyone. She’d worked hard to be self-reliant and didn’t want to jeopardize that, no matter how she might enjoy getting to know him better.
“Listen, I’m sorry but I think we should just forget about...you know,” she said.
“No. I don’t.” He wasn’t going to give her an easy out, apparently. “You mean the kisses?”
People rushed past them, taking no notice of their conversation.
“Yes.” She squinted up at him. “And me helping you with Sam. I don’t think it’s such a great idea. You know, with everything that’s going on with me.”
“I understand. I do. But I really need—” The vibrating of Tom’s phone interrupted him. Cursing under his breath, he pulled it out and frowned. “Shoot. Sorry. I need to go. Another delivery.” He started to back away. “This conversation isn’t over yet, though. I’ll be in touch.”
The following Tuesday night, Tom was home late again, well after six.
He carried the bags of hamburgers and fries he’d picked up after his shift to the kitchen table, said goodbye to the nanny, then took a deep breath before calling out to Sam, “Dinner’s ready.”
Sam shuffled out of her bedroom and flopped into a chair, her sullen expression matching his mood to a T. Still, he forced a smile and got busy getting plates and napkins for them. This was important. He still needed to discuss what had happened at the school the previous week with his daughter and make sure nothing like that happened again in the future. He also hoped to take Wendy’s advice and perhaps begin to bridge the gap between him and Sam. Have a real talk with her, instead of the talking at each other they usually did.
He’d sat in on Sam’s therapy appointment this afternoon as well. The counselor had invited him, and he’d attended with such high expectations, but it hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He’d tried his best to remain a silent observer, but when Sam had started talking about her time in Boston and the things Nikki had done in front of their daughter—drugs, partying—it made his blood boil.
If he’d had any idea that stuff had been going on, the danger Nikki had put Sam in, he would’ve been on a plane back to the East Coast so fast heads would’ve spun. As it was, picturing Sam cowering alone in her bedroom, door locked and huddled in the corner, afraid one of his ex-wife’s loser friends might burst in at any moment and do God knew what...
Those words still hung over him like a storm cloud.
He’d been wrong to leave Boston all those years ago, but he’d had no choice then and he couldn’t go back and change things. All he could do now was be better going forward.
He sighed and carried the plates over to the table.
I’ve been wrong about so many things...
Including what had happened with Wendy last week.
Those kisses, so hot, so sweet, so wrong.
She might well have a horrible, rare genetic disease that could kill her. He couldn’t take that on.
Could I?
After Sam’s counseling appointment earlier, he’d done some research on Huntington’s disease in his office. It was considered a “late” onset disease, with symptoms first appearing in patients between thirty and fifty—unsteady gait, jerky movements, loss of speech and cognitive abilities, until the body stopped functioning entirely and the poor person withered away and died. Its insidious progress slowly killed its victim’s brain cells, many people not realizing what was happening until it was too late.
The fact a young Wendy had had to watch her own mother go through that was unimaginable. The fact an adult Wendy had chosen to get tested then had never found out her results was unfathomable to a control freak like him. As a father, Tom couldn’t imagine leaving something like that to chance. With Sam in his life again, he would take every precaution to protect her, even if that meant facing his own mortality.
But he couldn’t judge Wendy for her choices, for keeping her emotional distance from everyone and everything. She’d faced those demons firsthand and didn’t want to subject anyone she cared about to them ever again.
Except she let you in, at least a little...
And now that he had his toe in the door, Tom found he didn’t want to leave.
She set all his protective instincts and control issues on high alert.
Not that he would ever overstep her boundaries, but the way she’d responded to his kiss told him she felt this strong attraction between them too, even if she refused to act on it. She was probably right. The wise thing to do would be to walk away.
Ugh. It was all so frustrating. He was a problem-solver, a thinker and a fixer. And yet he couldn’t seem to sort out his own emotions. So he sucked it up and toughed it out, because that was what he did.
“I learned a lot, sitting in on your session today,” he said to Sam by way of easing into their talk, passing her a plate and napkin.
She grunted, didn’t even look at him, just futzed with the stuff in her bag.
He sat down and got his own food out before continuing. Never mind the ache in his chest, the yearning to have his daughter look at him with something other than disdain or boredom. Best to dive right in and get the worst over with.
“Sam, about what happened at the school last week—” he started.
“I said I was sorry, okay?” She crumpled up her napkin in her fist. “I told you the stuff I took was going to get thrown away anyway. What? I should have let that fox die instead?”
Her Boston accent got heavier when she was upset. Tom found it endearing beyond belief but didn’t think mentioning it now would win him any points. “No. But you should’ve asked permission. Those are the rules.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Rules. That’s all you care about.”
“Wrong. I care about you too, Sam.” He clasped his hands on the table to resist the urge to fold his paper bag into a neat square. “How about we put that behind us? I’d much rather discuss your therapy appointment today. I had no idea about the stuff you dealt with back in Boston. What you saw. I want you to know I’ll always be here to protect you, okay? If you ever feel scared or sad or unsure or whatever, you come to me. You’ll always have a safe place here. I know you don’t think I want you in my life, but nothing could be further from the truth.”
She looked up at him, held his gaze for a moment before sighing and glancing away. “Okay.”
Perhaps Wendy had been right. Perhaps just being there for her would open up all sorts of new doorways. Encouraged, he continued on with another idea he’d had this afternoon. “I thought maybe we could go shopping for some new clothes before your trip to Fairbanks in a few weeks.”
Sam shoved a couple of fries in her mouth and glared at him while she chewed. “Why? I probably won’t leave their house anyway. You don’t like the same things I do, so let’s not.”
Yeah, this part of the conversation was going about as well as he’d expected. Clothes shopping was a no-go. It had been a dumb idea in the first place and he had to admit a bit of relief on that one. He’d only offered because he thought she might like it and not because he enjoyed hanging out at the mall. He changed the subject. “So, Wendy’s great. I’m glad you two got to know each other.”
Sam said something incoherent around her bite of burger.
“The counselor said today maybe you should get involved in some kind of after-school activity. Anything in particular you’d like to do? Drama club? Sports?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, her tone flat. “I like reading.”
“Anchorage has a great library. Maybe you could volunteer there?”
Sam stared at him while she chewed. “Maybe.”
“Did I tell you Wendy and I had coffee last week, after you left the hospital?”
Finally, she expressed a different emotion other than boredom. Outrage.
Not what he was going for.
“Seriously?” Sam’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes glittered with tears. Tom hadn’t told her that to upset her, but it seemed he’d done just that. “You just don’t stop, do you?”
“What?” He honestly had no clue. “We didn’t really discuss anything about you, I promise.”
“Don’t act like you care about me. It’s just more control for you, isn’t it? You hate the fact that Wendy and I are friends now and we talk about stuff you’ll never know, don’t you?”
“Hate’s a strong word and you throw it around a lot.” Tom forced himself to take a bite of his burger, though he could’ve been chewing cardboard for all he tasted it. “It was nothing, I swear. I wasn’t trying to go behind your back, Sam. You and Wendy have a lot in common. I’m glad you’ve got someone to talk to.”
Sam harrumphed and devoured more of her food.
“Maybe we could have lunch too sometimes, if I’m not busy with a patient.” When he didn’t get a response, he kept talking, hoping to open some new avenues of discussion between them. “I remember when we first moved into the apartment back in Boston, your mom and I used to have lunch sometimes at this little falafel place down the street. I’m not sure it’s there anymore. I think it was called Shawarma King, or something. Real hole-in-the-wall, but the best hummus—”
“God, you’re doing it again!” Sam pushed to her feet and shoved the rest of her food back in her bag before carrying it away to her room. “Just stop pushing me! I don’t want to talk about Mom and I don’t want to have lunch with you, okay? Stay away from Wendy. I’ve got homework to do.”
After her door closed, Tom had sat there at the table, finishing his burger and fries alone, the news droning in the background, depressing as usual.
Man, he was so bad at all this. Why was he so bad at this?
It was embarrassing. It was sad. It was soul-crushing.
Feeling both tired and restless, Tom discarded his trash, then watched some TV, flipping through the channels for hours but never settling on anything too long. He listened for sounds from Sam’s room, imagined her opening up her bedroom door and coming out to sit with him, but no. Contemplated going to her door and begging her to come out, but that didn’t seem right either.
Finally, he gave up and shut off the lights, then walked down the hall to his own bedroom, the smooth hardwood floors cool beneath his bare feet, the air-conditioning maintaining the perfect temperature, his two-bedroom apartment decorated to spartan perfection, everything chosen for comfort or usefulness.
Yet his home no longer brought him the welcoming serenity it once had.
Despite doing his best to follow Wendy’s advice, his daughter hadn’t said more than a handful of words to him. His heart ached at the fact nothing he tried on his own seemed to make any difference with Sam. Tom was forced to give in to the cold, hard truth.
He couldn’t do this by himself.
The counseling helped Sam, but he needed some support too. He needed Wendy, despite his daughter’s wishes to the contrary.
Tom stopped partway down the hall and headed back to the kitchen, where Sam had stuck Wendy’s business card to the fridge with a magnet. A glance at the clock showed it was now a few minutes after 11 p.m. Late, yes, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
And he had told Wendy he’d be in touch.
Tom grabbed his cellphone from the charger and dialed.
After a few rings a husky female voice answered, “Hello?”
Great, he’d woken her up. He cleared his throat. “Hi. It’s Tom.”
“What’s wrong?” Wendy said, her tone groggy. “Did something happen to Sam?”
“No, she’s fine.” The knot between his shoulder blades eased at the sound of her voice and Tom continued down the hall and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Tom asked.
Wendy moaned, low and sultry. And just like that, their kiss flashed back into his head. The feel of her hand in his, the sweet smell of her floral perfume, the taste of coffee and passion on her tongue. More images flooded in—Wendy, entwined in his sheets as he nuzzled and licked her all over, making her cry out his name as he brought her to the brink of climax...
His traitorous body twitched in response.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, taking a deep breath to calm his raging libido.
“No,” she said, her tone impatient. “What can I do for you?”
A loaded question if ever there was one.
Frustrated in more ways than one, Tom scrubbed his hand over his face.
He shifted his stance, reminding himself that Wendy Smith was not the woman for him. Things were too complicated. He needed her help to fix things between him and Sam. His daughter needed to be his top priority. His only priority, no matter what his body was urging to the contrary.
Tom pressed on.
“I called to talk about Sam. I know the counselor’s returned from vacation and all, but if you wanted to keep meeting my daughter in the cafeteria, as a friend, I’d be fine with that.” He rubbed his eyes. “Look, the truth is I’m afraid I’m going to screw all this up without you, to be honest. Tonight I brought up what happened with her at school last week and I tried to do the things you mentioned—reassuring her about the weekend with my parents, asking her about her day, opening up and engaging with her—but they’re not working.”
Wendy sighed. “You know you’re putting me in a tough spot.”
“I know, but I’m desperate. I do my best to give my daughter as much time as possible, but I have to work to support us both. Her private school is expensive.” Tom sighed and shook his head. “I’m out of ideas here. What do you suggest I do? The counselor mentioned getting her involved in some extracurricular activities. She mentioned she likes reading. I thought maybe she could volunteer at the local library, but I’m not sure how we’d work that out logistics-wise, now that I think about it. With the nanny and my schedule and—”
“Calm down,” Wendy said. “I may have another solution. Did you know we were putting in a new family lounge in the ER?”
“No.”
“It was Jake’s idea. It’ll be geared toward relaxing the kids who come in while their parents are being treated. We set up a special room with video games, toys, computers to do their homework, a television and a kid-friendly library with everything from picture books to young adult novels. The ER staff planned to take turns on our breaks reading to the kids, but maybe Sam would enjoy taking over for the little ones in the afternoon.”
“Wow. Uh...” Sam had told him she liked reading. It sounded like a good fit to him. “Sorry. Yes, I think she’d like that. But then again, she hardly speaks to me. On the rare occasions when she does surprise me with a full sentence, it’s usually to tell me how much she hates me, how she knows I don’t want her, or how she wishes I’d died instead of her mother.”
Those times, he’d rather she’d just stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Wendy said, her tone genuine. “She’s processing a lot of anger.”
“Please say you’ll help me,” he pleaded. “Whatever she needs. I’ll do anything. Please?”
The line was quiet for so long Tom wondered if Wendy was still there. Then she said, “Fine. Let me talk to her about the lounge at lunch tomorrow and see what she says. If it’s a yes, then you can come down to the ER around four o’clock on Friday afternoon and hopefully see a different side of Sam. One that’ll change your perspective.”
Yes! He wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“And for goodness’ sake, don’t mention any of this to her either. Make up some excuse for coming down but leave me out of it.” Wendy sighed. “This is a chance to start something new with your daughter. Don’t screw it up.”