“I’M STUCK!”
The panicked cry from the far side of the arts-and-crafts room reached Rachel, and she jerked her head up, dropping the pipe-cleaner antenna she was helping Sean glue to his bell bug project.
“Miss Rachel!” Molly waved at her from a table near the windows. “Help! My friend is stuck!”
“Stuck?” She crossed the room in several quick strides. Great. First full day on the job and something had already gone wrong. Well, that was a Monday for you. “What do you mean, she’s stuck?” The only glue they were using was white glue, and that wasn’t likely to get children stuck. At least, not in her experience.
“Ow! Molly, don’t!”
Rachel glanced down. The child’s arm, trapped just above her elbow, protruded between the slats in the back of the old wooden school chair. “How’d you manage that?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t get it out!” The girl sniffed and tugged on her arm to demonstrate. “Ow!”
“Let’s see what we can do here.” Rachel grasped the child’s shoulder. “What’s your name again, sweetie?” She pushed backward.
“Cherish! Ouch, stop!”
“Well, Cherish, you certainly do good work.”
The rest of the eight-to-ten-year-old group gathered around, chattering to one another. “Hey, maybe they’ll have to cut your arm off,” one of the boys suggested.
Cherish’s face lightened two shades.
“No one is going to cut your arm off.” Rachel glared at the boy. “Cut the chair, maybe, but not you.”
“Please, get me out! It really hurts!” The girl started to inhale and exhale quickly.
“I once heard this story about this guy who caught his leg in a bear trap, and to get out, he cut his leg off, only he cut off the wrong one and—”
Cherish moaned and Rachel whirled on the other children. “That is quite enough! All of you get back to your seats, now!”
The kids scrambled to obey.
Rachel tried once more to pull the little girl free.
Cherish gasped and grabbed her chest. “Oh, I hate this!”
The blood rushed from Rachel’s skull, and she went light-headed. She turned to Molly, who’d remained at her friend’s side, stroking Cherish’s shoulder. “Is she like you? A transplant kid?”
Molly nodded. “Cherish got her heart a few months before me.”
Panic clouded Rachel’s brain and she struggled to process the fact that she had a trapped child, a child with a heart condition, clutching at her chest. “Molly, get me the container of soap from the sink.” She looked over her shoulder without waiting to see if Molly complied. “Sean, you run, and I mean run, to the medical office and get the doctor. Move!” The boy dashed for the doorway.
Rachel knelt and stroked Cherish’s trapped arm. “You need to calm down. I’m going to get you out of here. Everything’s going to be fine.” Please, let it be fine!
“Here’s the soap.” Molly thrust the container at her. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get your friend out of this chair.” Rachel pumped the thick liquid on Cherish’s arm, both above the chair slats and below, then carefully spread it. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
The child opened her eyes to stare down at her. “Okay. You think that will really work?”
“Of course it will. No problem.” Rachel added a few more squirts for good measure.
“What is the trouble, ladies?” Dr. Santebe asked in his charming, singsong accent as he crossed the room. A reassuring smile flashed gleaming white teeth against his olive complexion. He shoved aside the art projects on the table and perched his hip on the edge, leaning down to brush a finger over Cherish’s cheek.
“I think I can get her arm out, but she seems to have a pain in her chest,” Rachel said.
“This is so?” he asked the girl.
Cherish shrugged her shoulders, then winced. “Ow. Yeah, but my heart was just catching up, that’s all. I panicked.”
“Thank you, Dr. Cherish. Might I take a listen?” The physician pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and placed the pieces in his ears as Cherish nodded permission.
While the child was distracted, Rachel gently grasped the trapped arm in one hand and the bony shoulder in her other. She gave a quick, hard shove, and Cherish slipped free from the chair.
“Yes!” Molly shouted. “You did it!”
Rachel looked at the doctor, who nodded at her while removing his stethoscope. “She is fine. Good work.” He took Cherish’s hand and examined the angry red blotch where her arm had been pinned. “I think we will put some ice on this after we rinse the soap. Come, we will go to my office.”
Rachel climbed unsteadily to her feet as the doctor assisted the girl from the chair. “What happened with her chest?”
“In a transplant, the organ nerves are severed. So when a heart transplant patient becomes excited, or exercises, the heart does not know to speed up. Sometimes a pounding sensation occurs in the chest when it does so suddenly.”
“So, she’s okay?”
A buzzer rang, announcing lunchtime, and the kids scrambled from their chairs to swarm toward the door where some parents already awaited them. “Hey, make sure everything is cleaned up before you go!” Rachel shouted over the pandemonium before looking back to the doctor.
“She is fine.” The doctor gripped Rachel’s hand and smiled at her. “Good idea with the soap. I will remember this. Come, Cherish, let us find your parents and get some ice for your arm.”
Molly followed them as far as the back of the room, where she began to help clean up.
Rachel sank onto the edge of the table and covered her face with trembling fingers, the adrenaline rush fading as her own pulse throbbed in her skull. She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, trying to compose herself.
“A little excitement, huh?”
Rachel lowered her hands to find James standing nearby. “Just a tad.” In the back, Molly and several other children placed finished projects on the drying tables and tidied up the work areas with the help of some other parents. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Live with the fear that you could lose her at any time?”
His eyebrows tightened and drew downward, and a scowl twisted his mouth. “First of all, don’t you ever, ever say anything like that within earshot of my daughter.” He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Second, don’t shoot your mouth off when you have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“I’m…I’m sorry, I just—”
“No excuses. Positive thinking, positive speaking, positive outcome. So please don’t talk negatively around my kid.” He turned and walked away.
“But I do have a clue about that fear,” she whispered. At least, now she had a clue. When she’d been a parent, she’d been oblivious to that kind of fear. Despite being concerned and safety-minded, she’d never lived with the constant threat of losing her child. But now she knew all too well how quickly life could change.
The crowded lunchroom hummed with the happy chatter of kids and parents along with the clink of utensils against dishes. Somewhere a baby wailed. Rachel lingered in the doorway, debating going in. Her stomach hadn’t settled since the excitement of Cherish’s ordeal, and the smell of grilled chicken and burgers did little to help.
“Miss Rachel, Miss Rachel!” A redheaded blur streaked in her direction from the other side of the room, arms waving madly.
She glanced toward the door, contemplating a quick exit, when she noticed another orange head gazing in her direction. Trudy Luciano was on the job, eagle eyes trained directly on her from beneath a rainbow sweatband.
“Oof.” Rachel exhaled sharply as Molly collided with her. The little girl wrapped her arms around Rachel’s middle and squeezed tightly.
“Thank you! You were so great!”
Rachel stiffened, muscles contracting. Trudy was still watching. Rachel patted Molly on the back several times. Not only was a hug from a child something she’d become uncomfortable with, but this one’s father was still annoyed with her, judging by the scowl he sent her from a table in the far corner.
And now Trudy was moving in her direction.
Aah, summer camp. Toss in a case of poison ivy and some stinging insects, and life didn’t get much better than this.
Your job depends on this, she reminded herself. Jerry had been covering for her with the superintendent for a while now, and this was her last chance to make a good impression. She had to get a favorable report from the camp directors, had to prove she could get her act together.
“Come and eat with us, Miss Rachel,” Molly invited, looking up at her. “There’s room at our table. Cherish is back from the doctor’s office and you can meet her parents.”
“Thank you, Molly, but I don’t—”
Trudy brushed past. “I heard all about your quick thinking earlier. Good job. And I think having lunch with this child is a wonderful idea.” The woman pushed the sweatband higher on her forehead, the multicolors clashing with her mane of hair. “Perhaps Camp Firefly Wishes is already working its magic on you?”
Rachel forced a smile and disentangled herself from Molly’s embrace. “Perhaps it is.” She gave Molly’s ponytail a gentle tug. “I’ll join you in a minute.” The girl’s quick grin showed a missing side tooth, then she turned and skipped off, back toward her father.
Trudy shook her head and tutted. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“A sweet little girl like that with no mama.” The woman’s green eyes followed the child’s progress back to her table. “And with such a handsome daddy.” She looked at Rachel.
“He’s…easy enough on the eyes.”
Trudy’s face lit up, and she patted Rachel’s shoulder before moving off.
Several minutes later, tray laden with a salad, bread and butter, and iced tea, Rachel approached the table, hoping no one would notice the trembling that rocked the tea in the glass.
The only empty spot was next to James. A petite brunette woman rocked a fussing baby in her arms while the lanky blond-haired man on the other side of James stretched across the table, trying to pop a pacifier into the tiny mouth.
“I hope—Molly invited me to join you.”
James glanced up. The apprehension in Rachel’s blue eyes softened the tightness in his chest. Which irritated him all the more. He ground his teeth together, wanting to hold on to his anger with both hands to offset the temptation of wanting to hold on to her. When he’d seen her shaking after Cherish’s mishap, gathering her into his arms had been an overwhelming impulse. Until she’d made her little comment about the possibility of losing Molly at any time. Something Tiffany had said far too frequently.
Rachel’s tray rattled ominously as he continued to stare at her. Finally, he shifted along the bench. No sense in making a scene in front of everyone. “Have a seat.”
Molly and Cherish giggled and bent their heads together to whisper. Molly jumped to her feet. “We’re going to get some dessert. We’ll be back.”
“Fruit, young lady,” he reminded. “No sweets. You ate enough marshmallows last night to equal that giant marshmallow guy in the Ghostbusters movie.”
Molly rolled her eyes at him. “Funny, Dad. Very funny. Not.”
The rest of the adults chuckled as the girls trotted off.
Nolan cleared his throat and raised his voice as the baby broke into lung-stretching screams. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, James?” He jerked his head in Rachel’s direction.
“Yeah, sorry. Rachel Thompson, this is Nolan and Michelle Driscoll, Cherish’s parents.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. That was good thinking, using soap to get Cherish out of that chair. Thank you.” Michelle struggled to her feet. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to feed Tyler before he breaks everyone’s eardrums.”
“I’ll come with you, honey. I’m sure James will spare one eye for Cherish.” Nolan leapt from the bench, pausing to lean over and whisper in James’s ear, “Make sure Cherish gets to her next activity, will you, Jimbo? This kid is due for a nap after his feeding, and then it’s a little R&R for Mommy and Daddy.”
Nolan straightened up and waggled his eyebrows, then winked at James before escorting his wife from the room.
“I guess I know how to clear a table, don’t I?” Rachel murmured.
“Looks that way.”
The blue eyes widened. She picked up her tray and rose to her feet. “This was a mistake. I’ll find someplace else to sit.”
“Just sit down and eat. You’re already here, and there’s not much lunch period left.” He took her tray and set it back on the table. “Not that there’s much here for you to eat. No wonder you’re so damn thin.”
“You have a degree in nutrition as well?”
“I’ve become something of an expert in healthy diets.”
“Because of Molly?”
“No, because my eighty-two-year-old grandmother is in training for the Ironman Competition.”
Rachel paused in the middle of lifting a forkful of salad to her mouth and shook her head. “You’re awfully sarcastic for a psychologist. Or is it just me that brings out the worst in you?”
“It’s just you.”
She set the fork back down. “Look, James, I’m really sorry I upset you earlier. I certainly had no intention of doing so. I was coming down from a state of panic over Cherish, and I—”
“Said the first thing that came to mind.” He sighed.
The niggling image of her leaning against the tree last night, eyes shut, breathing ragged, reminded him that this was a woman who was covering up some kind of pain. He didn’t own the market on pain, and he shouldn’t be acting like such a damn jackass. After all, she hadn’t knowingly parroted Tiffany’s words to him. He cleared his throat. “I overreacted. It’s just that I don’t like Molly to hear any negative thoughts. Things are tough enough for her, I don’t like to make matters worse.”
“She doesn’t seem like she’s got a health issue. In fact, I have to confess, I can’t tell the transplant kids from the siblings around here.” Rachel returned to eating.
“That’s a wonderful thing to say to the parent of a transplant kid. Because if you could have seen most of them before their transplants, they looked a lot different. You’d never believe these are the same kids.”
“Did Molly look different? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Yeah, she did. Very much.” He chugged the last few swallows of his pop to avoid saying anything else. A mental picture of his little girl, pale and too tired to play, taunted him.
“Was she always sick? I mean, what makes a child need a new heart?”
“In her case, a congenital defect. She had a lot of corrective surgeries, but in the end, transplant was the only option.”
Rachel’s face lost its color and she dropped her gaze to her plate. She pushed a cherry tomato around her salad bowl with her fork.
“Rachel?”
She briefly met his gaze, then quickly looked down at her tray, but not before he’d seen a shimmering in her eyes.
He reached out and gently clasped her hand. “What is it? Sharing sometimes eases the burden. And I can assure you, I’ve pretty much heard it all in my practice.”
“Dad! Dad, guess what?” Molly and Cherish skidded to a stop next to the table.
James yanked his hand back from Rachel’s.
“Where did Mom and Nolan go? Oh, man, I can’t believe this,” Cherish wailed.
“Why, what’s wrong?” Rachel asked.
“I signed them up for the adults’ three-legged-race, and now they’re not here. There’ll be prizes and everything!”
“I’m sure they’ll be disappointed,” Rachel said, hiding a small smile behind her buttered roll.
“Yes, very,” James agreed solemnly. Although he was fairly certain Nolan had a different sort of sporting event in mind for him and his wife.
A brief pang of envy rolled over him.
“But that’s okay,” Molly announced, “because we’ve got more news.”
“You do?” James eyed his daughter warily. “What?”
“I signed you up for the race, too.”
“Molly! Who am I supposed to race with?”
The hazel eyes lit with mischievous glee. “With Miss Rachel, of course.”
"This is silly," James muttered as he tied their ankles together with a rag provided by the overly-enthusiastic Trudy. He picked up another scrap of fabric and moved on to their knees, trying to keep his hands and mind from registering how soft Rachel’s skin was and just how much of that skin was exposed by her navy shorts.
"Mmmm," Rachel hummed what he took to be her agreement. "But your little girl looked so excited about the idea. Besides, it's been a long time since I did anything...fun."
James glanced up in time to catch the fleeting expression of sorrow in her eyes. “And why is that?” he asked gently.
“Guess I just haven’t been in a very fun mood lately.”
“For any particular reason?”
She leaned over and tugged at the binding around their knees, effectively letting him know she didn’t want to talk about it—whatever it was. Her divorce, maybe? He knew well enough how that experience could sour someone on fun for a long time.
“Too tight?” He loosened the strip of cloth. “How’s that?”
When she approved, he knotted the binding. “Good. Then let’s practice, shall we?” He hooked his right arm around her waist. “Bend your outside leg and push off.”
After a few false starts, they managed to make their way to the starting line. Molly and Cherish waved at them from the sidelines, and James waved back.
At the far end of the field, Trudy Luciano and another camp counselor held a yellow tape across the finish line. Don raised a megaphone to his mouth. “Okay, racers! When you hear the tone, you can start. There will be a special prize for the winners of the race. On your mark, get set…” The megaphone hooted and the race was on.
“Outside leg first!” James reminded her.
Outside, inside, outside, inside. Rachel chanted to herself as they stumbled down the field. The wind tossed her hair into her face, obscuring her vision.
“Go, Dad, go! You can do it!”
The excitement and confidence in his daughter’s voice, a reminder of a child’s unwavering faith in a parent, touched something deep within Rachel. “Come on, James, faster!”
He tightened his grip on her, practically lifting her off the field. They charged onward.
They pounded across the finish line, yellow tape streaming around them. Rachel’s foot hit a rock and she staggered. The two of them tumbled in a heap, face first into the grass.
She turned her head to the left and found him grinning at her. A chuckle burst from deep within her. “Not exactly a graceful finish, but we did it!”
“That we did.”
“Dad! Are you hurt?” Molly rushed to James’s side.
“No, tiger, we’re fine. We just have to figure out how to get back on our feet from this dignified position.”
A booming, masculine laugh echoed over them. “I can help with that. Just hold still while I cut you loose.”
Rachel felt tugging against her leg as Don used a pocketknife to cut the ties that bound them together.
Once free, they both rolled over in opposite directions. James offered his hand, then pulled her up.
Cherish and Molly, along with a bunch of children from Rachel’s morning arts-and-crafts program, jumped up and down around them, screaming congratulations.
“Well done!” Don clapped James on the shoulder. He lifted the megaphone into the air and pressed the alarm.
“Folks, I’d like to announce that our winners, James and Rachel, have just won themselves a romantic dinner for two at the nearby Giordano’s Italian restaurant!”
Applause from the crowd didn’t come close to matching the thundering in Rachel’s head. A romantic dinner for two? “But we’re not a couple, we were just racing together….”
“Way cool, Dad,” Molly said. “A date!” She gave Cherish a high five and the pair giggled and hugged each other.
A date?
James went very still beside her. His eyes held the same flicker of mixed apprehension and horror she’d seen in small boys headed for the principal’s office.
She knew the feeling.
This was not good. Not good at all.