Chapter Seven

 

Damn Blake Matthews. He haunted her thoughts for days. As she recounted the accident and her efforts to assist at her sister’s dinner table, she mentioned him often. Too often. Her sister immediately sensed her fascination and grilled her about the man.

“He interests you,” her sister exclaimed, clapping her hands like one of the children.

“No. He arouses my curiosity.”

“You call it curious, I say interested. No matter. Tell me about him.” She leaned in conspiratorially.

And as Noreen answered her sister’s incessant questions, she realized she knew little about the man. Tall. She guessed six-foot-one. Handsome. In a brutish sort of way. Commanding. A leader, especially in an emergency like the car accident, but she envisioned him stepping up in any situation. He wasn’t one to stand in the back of the room.

“He has a knack with children, his or a stranger’s.” Willy’s angelic repose popped in her mind.

Her sister’s flying eyebrows registered concern. “He’s married?”

“Recently divorced so,” she paused to doodle on the placemat with her finger, “he’s damaged goods.”

A slow smile spread across her sister’s face. “How so?”

“He probably has commitment issues or, I don’t know, baggage.” Like a life-sized suitcase named Lynne Matthews. The room grew warmer. She should just shut up and end her sister’s inquiries. If her finger had been a brush she’d have painted a mural on the placemat by now. “He’s someone else’s mistake. I’m not interested.” She’d added the caveat to counteract the way her heart pumped when she talked about the man. Double time. He was dangerous. And tempting.

A twisted smile contorted her sister’s mouth. “Oh. Someone else’s mistake. Is that what I was?”

It was difficult to remember her sister had been a divorcee when she met the love of her life. They were perfect for each other. Anyone who met them saw it immediately. She almost envied her sister’s fairytale life. When Noreen dated Tom, they’d come so close to the whole marriage gig but, looking on it as a memory, they weren’t in sync like her sister and brother-in-law were. They didn’t finish each other’s sentences or literally light up when the other entered the room. She would have been happy married to Tom but she recognized now it would be more contentment to live with him than exhilarated to spend every day together. No matter. Happy-ever-after hadn’t been in the cards for them.

Her sister still smiled at her, waiting for an answer. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. You weren’t anyone’s baggage. Your circumstances were different.”

“Ah, I see. But divorced is divorced, isn’t it? Do you know what his circumstances are?”

Possibly but only because Lynne Matthews had more than hinted about domestic violence. But she didn’t want to divulge any of that. And her sister was oblivious to the cruelty of real life. Or death and how it had no regard for love or marriage or happy endings. There was no point in commitment and planning for the future because when the Grim Reaper decided it was your time that was it. She’d seen him shatter lives one too many times, including hers.

“I don’t. But it’s not worth my time to find out. I’m not interested. This subject is closed.”

Noreen returned to work determined to dismiss Blake Matthews from her mind. Too bad her concern about Argia sidetracked those intentions.

The hospital floor was like a different world after her three days off. Only a handful of patients remained and the staff was back to a normal schedule so her workload lightened. It allowed time to read Argia’s other medical reports.

The child had a history in all five hospitals within this health care system. Every visit was for a different complaint so she rarely saw the same physician twice. When there was a repeat, weeks or even months had passed. A doctor could hardly be expected to remember treating the child previously, even though Argia was a memorable child. But the number of trips to the emergency room was alarming, and the list as varied as a restaurant menu—high fever, uncontrolled vomiting, abdominal pains.

Each time, the admitting parent was Lynne Matthews. Noreen searched for a pattern but found none. The days of admission, even the times, varied. Much like a firefighter’s schedule might.

She sat back in her chair holding her chin in her hand, stunned by her thoughts. And the nagging questions. Were those days when Blake Matthews was on duty? Or at home taking care of his daughter and possibly hurting her? Leaving his wife to clean up his mess?

As if they had a mind of their own, her fingers typed Lynne Matthews’ name into the search field. Network records older than five years were archived so the incidents that surfaced regarding her appeared as two-line summations from the General Hospital adjacent and connecting to Children’s. Second-degree burns on her left arm. Stitches required in her right hand. A concussion diagnosis. A sprained ankle. Like her daughter, the woman was no stranger to the hospital. But all of her emergencies occurred before Argia was born. At least the ones recorded in this hospital network. Who knew where else she might have received treatment. But the dates she read made it apparent that Lynne’s medical emergencies ceased once Argia was born. Since then, only the little girl required treatment.

Noreen searched Blake Matthews’ name and found three admission reports from next door. Treatment for smoke inhalation occurring in the line of duty. A sprained ankle for him as well, listed as a softball injury. Bet that made him mad. And five stitches in his left thigh, the gash unintentionally caused by his spouse, per the notes. Her brow furrowed. How does one accidentally slit someone’s thigh unless they are wielding a knife? She studied the screen. They could have been horsing around in the kitchen, preparing dinner together, maybe a little drunk, or a little too eager to remove each other’s clothes. With a knife in hand? That scenario didn’t play out.

Were they fighting? Had Blake attacked her and Lynne Matthews was forced to defend herself? Were the police called? The report said the patient was self-admitted so he hadn’t arrived at the ER in a squad car. She tried to read between the lines but other than the sinking feeling that something was wrong in that household, there was nothing.

Noreen dialed the Matthews’ home number. It wasn’t unusual for her to make follow-up calls to her patients to inquire about their well-being after being discharged, especially children who spent a chunk of time in her care. She wanted to check on Argia.

Her heart crashed against her chest while she waited for someone to answer the ringing phone. What if Blake Matthews picked up? No, his wife said he’d moved out. But where was she?

~~~

 

For two more days, Noreen tried to reach Lynne Matthews by phone. Never an answer. Yesterday, after her shift ended, she drove out of her way to ride by the Matthews address listed on Argia’s medical records. The house was closed and dark. She shouldn’t obsess about the kid but the lingering feeling that an ugly secret lived behind the walls of their two-story brick home pestered her.

Even several days away from the hospital failed to allay her concerns. Finally, more than two weeks later, she ran into paramedics Rob Yarnell and Joe Lystle as she left the hospital one morning. After exchanging the usual social greetings, she posed to Rob what she hoped was a nonchalant question.

“How’s your niece been?”

He frowned.

“You know, Argia Matthews? How’s she doing with her broken wrist?”

At the mention of her name, Joe muttered something unintelligible and stepped away. Rob’s eyes darkened. “She’s not really my niece, but I gladly claim her. Her arm is healing fine. I saw her last weekend and she’s regained movement of those fingers. As for the rest of her....” His words trailed off and he shook his head.

Noreen’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean by that? Did something else happen to her?”

Was that why the Matthews’ home seemed uninhabited? Were they spending their days in another hospital? Was Blake Matthews the reason?

“I’m not sure what happened, no one is. All of a sudden, she’s not talking. To anyone.”

The screws twisting her stomach tightened. “I don’t understand. You mean like keeping a secret not talking? Playing a game? Who isn’t she talking to?”

“To no one. Not her mother, not Blake, not even her toys or stuffed animals and she was a chatterbox when she played with them. She simply stopped talking.”

“Did something happen to cause that? Something traumatic?”

Joe wandered back to them and grunted. “Isn’t that the million-dollar question?”

“What does that mean?”

Rob tapped Joe’s arm as if to signal that he shouldn’t say any more. But she wasn’t letting this go. She couldn’t. Should she have been more aggressive in her attempts to check on Argia’s welfare? Could she have averted further injury by interceding? If that were the case, if Blake Matthews lost his temper and took it out on that poor child, she’d never forgive herself.

“Did someone hurt her? Did her father cause it? What’d he do? What happened?”

Both men looked at her with disbelief, their brows furrowed. “Her father?” Joe shook his head vehemently. “Lady, you’re way off base if you think Blake would harm a hair on that kid’s head. Every breath he takes is for his daughter. He’s as stumped as the doctors.”

“So she’s seen a doctor? Was there a diagnosis?”

Rob studied her, his eyes narrowed now, suddenly less communicative. “What’s your interest, Noreen? Argia was your patient weeks ago. And this is the second time you’ve asked us about her.”

She shrugged, ignoring the sour acid releasing in her stomach. “I tried to make a welfare check after the hospital discharged her. I was never able to reach anyone at the Matthews home and I don’t like loose ends. She was such a sweet child. I’d like to know she’s doing okay.”

He stared as if he didn’t believe her. “Did you try calling Blake or just the house?”

She recalled the blank lines on Argia’s chart and the mother’s insistence that she was the primary caretaker and the only contact of record. Lynne Matthews clutched her cell phone in her hand even as she’d insisted the landline was the only phone number to reach her.

“The only information listed is a home number for the mother and, even though I called several different times, there was never an answer.”

“Probably at the spa,” Joe said under his breath.

Rob shot him another silencing glance.

“Do you want Blake’s number? I’d feel more comfortable if you asked him your questions.” He reached for the cell phone in his back pocket.

“No. No, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to bother him. I’ll try the house a few more times and if I can’t reach anyone, I’ll let it pass. I simply thought you might know how Argia’s doing.” She was saying too much, speaking too fast. The men noticed.

Rob raised his head in question. “How about if I have him call you? He’s not easy to find to begin with so that’s probably a better option.”

Her hasty reaction betrayed her words. “No. No, it’s fine. Really. I must run. Nice seeing both of you. Stay safe.” Turning on her heel she rushed toward her car in the parking lot. The last thing she needed was Blake Matthews calling her. Asking her questions about why she was asking questions. What would she say? She couldn’t erase him from her thoughts. Or his daughter.

It looked like the little girl needed help. Saved. But from whom? The monster Lynne Matthews described? She’d seen no evidence that Blake Matthews was anything other than a devoted father, a dedicated firefighter, and a selfless public servant. Easy on the eyes, too. That thought was the final surge for her stomach, which shot a wave of acid up her esophagus. She grimaced at the bitterness in the back of her throat.

Her mind cleared after she slept a few hours, showered, and dressed. But that sickening sensation returned the minute her cell phone rang with an unrecognizable phone number. It was him. She knew it.

“This is Noreen Jensen.”

“Blake Matthews.”

Her heart shot to the ceiling and she jumped up from the sofa as if propelled by the sensation. Worse. She lost the ability to respond.

Silence stretched between them. Was he calling from the fire station, dressed in his blue uniform, sitting at a desk strewn with papers and reports? She pictured it. Or was he at home in the blue jeans she’d seen him in, his hair tousled, maybe shoeless in white sweat socks, his feet propped up on a coffee table in front of a sofa. Dear Lord, her mind was imagining his home décor.

He cleared his throat. “Did you want to speak to me?”

No. Yes. What the hell? She did want to talk to him. About Argia. That was all.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Matthews. I tried to complete a welfare check on your daughter and I’ve been unable to reach you or your wife. I just happened to ask Rob Yarnell about her when I ran into him because I know that he’s close to her. Or rather to you. But it was unnecessary for him to contact you. I didn’t ask him to do that.”

Jabbering. She was jabbering. For the second time today. She recognized panic when she heard it and it spewed from her like hot lava from an active volcano.

“It’s not a bother, Miss Jensen. How can I help you?”

“How is Argia?”

“She’s fine.”

Was that all he was going to offer? Two words?

“Ah, good to hear. Is she able to use those fingers at all? Has she adjusted to having her arm in a cast?”

“The swelling subsided after a few days. She’s using her thumb and fingers as best she can. The cast comes off pretty soon.”

And? She waited. Apparently, he was a man of minimal words. The quiet deafened her.

“I’m glad to hear that. You and your wife must be taking good care of her.” What in the world made her say that?

“Ex-wife.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ex-wife. Our divorce was final some time ago. Gia’s mother refuses to accept it. But she’s my ex.”

Her heart thudded. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

No remorse. No feelings whatsoever. Lynne Matthews had called him a heartless bastard. The cold from his tone flowed through the phone to her ear, chilling it.

“I meant, it’s always sad when a divorce involves children. I hope Argia wasn’t too upset.”

“It’s sadder when a child is forced to live in an atmosphere of hate and disrespect, don’t you think?”

That certainly was the demeanor she’d witnessed between husband and wife. “I’m sorry Mr. Matthews, I’m overstepping my bounds.”

“Yes, I think you are.”

The gaping divide between the phone connection widened. Why didn’t he simply hang up? She heard him inhale. “I appreciate your concern for Gia, Miss Jensen. It’s easy to fall in love with her. She manages to entice everyone she meets. I assure you, she’s fine.”

Noreen gripped the phone tighter. If she didn’t press him on what she knew, she’d never let it go. She had to ask.

“Rob Yarnell mentioned that she stopped talking.” Might as well float the assumption that she suspected something was wrong and see how he handled it.

“She’s only five, I’m sure it’s a phase. I’m not too worried about it.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Matthews. A five-year-old normally talks non-stop. They ask endless questions and speculate about everything from the family pet to the moon. For a child to go completely silent is a concern, don’t you think?”

“How many children do you have, Miss Jensen?”

His question stunned her. Whether or not she had children wasn’t the issue. “That’s of no matter, sir. I’m a pediatric nurse and children are my specialty. I care for hundreds of children a year. More than I can count. Your question insults me and avoids answering mine.

“Have you taken Argia to see someone?” She knew the answer so his response would be telling. But he was truthful.

“She’s met with several specialists. Her mother made sure of that.”

“Do you mind my asking their conclusions?”

~~~

 

Did he mind? Blake wasn’t sure. Something about this woman wouldn’t leave him alone. Part of him wanted to scream, “butt out of my life, lady,” yet another part sensed she might enhance it. He remained wary. “Do you mind if I ask what concern it is of yours?”

Through the phone, she gasped. “Argia was a patient of mine, no matter for how short a time. And it disturbs me to think of that sweet child refusing to speak for, for whatever reason. The fact that you circumvent answering my questions is highly suspicious.”

The mere tone of her voice made him laugh. He imagined her standing in her nurse’s animal-print scrubs, all prim and proper, her toe tapping the floor and hand on her hip. She had balls, he’d give her that.

“This is no laughing matter, Mr. Matthews.” She’d been on the defensive when this conversation began, practically apologizing for his call. Now, the offense had the ball.

“I’m not laughing, Miss Jensen.” Despite his words, he chuckled again. “Forgive me. It’s simply that your tactics amuse me. Why don’t you come right out and say what’s on your mind? You strike me as a woman who expects and can handle forthright honesty.”

He’d given Noreen Jensen—the woman—considerable thought, wondering what made her go into nursing, specializing in pediatrics, and further narrowing that field to surgery and concentrated care. If a splinter found its way into Gia’s finger, he shared the pain. How could someone endure seeing suffering children day in and day out and, in some cases, witness an unhappy conclusion? It likely required a cold heart, which had been his first impression.

But she’d displayed the opposite at the accident scene. She’d thrown herself into the action without concern for self-preservation. Somewhere beneath the ice, she cared. And the image of her in those heels and tight jeans left a lasting impression, one that, to his surprise, affected him now. This conversation was exciting physically and emotionally. He enjoyed talking to this woman, despite her unspoken accusations.

He’d bet right now, she debated how best to find out what she really wanted to know.

She inhaled, mustering her courage he suspected. “All right, sir. Did you do something to cause Argia to stop talking?”

“No, ma’am. I did not.”

“Then how do you explain it? What did the doctors say?”

“They have no explanation. She’s scheduled for a battery of tests over the next few weeks, procedures I’d rather not put her through but I have no choice. Not with the threat of a child abuse claim hanging over my head. That’s what you’re beating around the bush about, isn’t it Miss Jensen? That I’m somehow mistreating my daughter? Isn’t that the seed her mother planted? And without knowing a thing about me, you choose to believe that and perhaps prove it yourself. Am I correct?”

Nothing but silence in his ear. “Who’s avoiding a reply now, Miss Jensen?”

Her voice was one decibel lower when she responded. But her courage sustained. “You’re right. That’s what I might think. Without a solid foundation, I admit.”

God, he loved this woman’s backbone. He’d bet she straightened to her full height before she responded. Just under his chin. He remembered.

“Would you like to build that foundation? Do you want to see for yourself?”

“Sir?”

Even as he spoke, he felt his eyebrows come together. Where had this idea come from?

“I asked if you’d like to see Gia. You said the reason you tried to contact her mother was to complete a welfare check. I’m giving you the opportunity to do that. In person. If we can coordinate our schedules, we’ll meet you for lunch. Or a cup of coffee or ice cream. Gia loves ice cream. That will allow you to personally assess my daughter and my ability to care for her. You’ll see first-hand how she’s treated. Does that suit you?”

What the hell? Are you really asking the Frost Queen out for coffee? Have you lost your mind?

While the voice in his head berated him, his heart raced. He wanted her to say yes, but she hadn’t answered. Probably just as stunned by the invitation as he was. He persisted.

“When is your next day off, Miss Jensen?”

The attitude disappeared from her voice. She sounded apprehensive. He could easily check the hospital schedule and find out for himself. “I, um, I finished my shift this morning. I’m not scheduled back for three days.”

“Well, as it happens, I’m off today as well. We’ve already missed lunch. How about a late afternoon ice cream? Say four-thirty. Gia favors the Scoops ice cream shop on the Boulevard. Do you know it? I can text you the address.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I know where it is. But—”

“Good. We’ll see you there.” He ended the call without letting her say another word, smiling at his cleverness.

This wasn’t about proving to a nurse that he was a good father. This was about seeing the woman again.

~~~

 

His mother frowned when Blake and Gia stopped at her house.

“Yes, we’re still planning to have dinner with you, Mum, but we’re taking a little adventure first. We won’t be long.”

Gia hadn’t been eating well to begin with. Even Carole Matthews’ special mac-and-cheese hadn’t interested her.

His mother shook her head. “But it’s almost dinnertime now. And I’m making one of Gia’s favorites. Beans and wienies.” She dropped to her knees, eye-level with his daughter. “How does that sound, sweetheart?”

Gia only nodded. She stood beside him holding his hand and he squeezed it. “We’re gonna try something a little different tonight and eat dessert first. We’re going for ice cream.”

Gia’s face split into a wide grin and she looked at her grandmother and nodded vigorously. How could you not smile at that face? His mother laughed. “Well, I guess one time won’t hurt. But save room for dinner. Come here and give Grammy a kiss goodbye.”

She stood. “Don’t be too long. Have fun you two.” He’d omitted the fact that Noreen Jensen would also be there.

In the car on the way, he asked if Gia remembered the nurse from the hospital. She wrinkled her nose in thought and then shook her head. He explained “her” nurse wanted to see her again, which was why they were going to meet her. The old Gia would have inundated him with questions about the woman and launched a ten-minute debate with some imaginary friend about what flavor ice cream she might choose. Today, his daughter simply shrugged and his heart splintered a little more.

They arrived ten minutes early, a norm for him. Anyone who knew Blake Matthews knew punctuality was important to him. Yet, at four-forty when Noreen still hadn’t arrived, he was more concerned than irritated. What if she didn’t show?

He’d be disappointed. For some unclear reason, he truly wanted to see her.

His heart leapt when the gold bell above the door jingled and she appeared. She hesitated, despite spotting them immediately. Only two booths in the place were occupied. He rose when she approached with slow, measured steps as if she contemplated turning to flee.

Blake extended his hand and hers slid into his, firm, warm, and titillating. “Miss Jensen, glad you could make it.” Gia looked up from the drawing she’d been coloring and smiled.

Nurse Noreen appeared flustered. “I-I misjudged the traffic. I’m sorry for being late. I’m usually rather punctual.”

“It’s fine. I wondered if you were standing us up.” They stood awkwardly, facing each other, their hands clasped. She eased hers out of his grasp and settled onto the seat across from them, turning her attention to his daughter.

“Hi, Argia, do you remember me? How’re you feeling?”

Noreen plopped her purse and sweater beside her on the bench seat and folded her hands in front of her on the table. Gia smiled, observing every move. But she didn’t speak.

He resumed his seat and wrapped his arm around Gia’s shoulders. He leaned to whisper to her. “Gia, you didn’t answer Miss Jensen. That’s not polite. She asked if you remember her from the hospital.”

She studied Noreen as if trying to recall their meeting, and then slowly shook her head. Noreen smiled and his stomach tightened.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if you remember me. That was a difficult night. What’s important is that I remember you. I hope you don’t mind that I wanted to see you again.”

Gia’s round, chocolate eyes appeared to twinkle when she gifted Noreen with a wide smile. Noreen refocused her gaze on him and his heart skipped. “Please call me Noreen.”

Christ, he acted like a teenager, allowing a giant grin to crease his face. “Okay. If you’ll call me Blake. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ice cream. We waited for you to order. What flavor would you like? I’m a mint chocolate chip man. Gia favors chocolate.” He turned to his daughter and whisked her hair over her shoulders. Earlier today he brushed it to a high chestnut gloss and held it back with a frilly headband but allowed it to fall freely in soft waves to her shoulders. Gia loved her headbands. She rewarded his attention with a toothy grin.

Noreen tsked at him like a mother hen. “What kind of example are you setting, allowing ice cream so close to dinner?”

Her smile indicated she teased and he relaxed against the seat back. He wanted to impress upon this woman that he loved his daughter and would never hurt her. Besides that, he wanted to impress her for reasons he didn’t care to examine.

His smile matched his daughter’s. “You sound like my mother, Noreen. Haven’t you ever allowed the sweet things in life to come first? If not, you should try it sometime. There’s nothing wrong with dessert before dinner, once in a while. What flavor would you like?”

She scanned the menu on the wall and requested one scoop of mint chocolate chip also. It was a small victory, finding common ground in a mutual love for the same ice cream flavor, but it felt like a giant step toward progress.

He winked at her. “That’s taking one for the team. Gia, sit here with Miss Noreen until I come back, all right?” She nodded as he slid from the booth. While he waited for three small cups of ice cream he kept an eye on them. Rarely did he ever have Gia out of eyesight if they weren’t at home. Even then, he always knew where she was.

Noreen engaged her in conversation, apparently asking yes or no questions. Gia’s head bobbed her responses. Amazing. Without uttering a single word, Gia still managed to communicate her feelings.

“I brought extra napkins because one of us usually ends up wearing our ice cream, don’t we peanut?” Gia giggled. Noreen watched her attack the treat. In turn, he studied Noreen, wondering about the woman’s true agenda and whether she was friend or foe. He wanted her to be a friend. Or maybe more. That left him with an unsettled feeling, almost queasy.

Admittedly, it was shallow but he was a man who first noticed a woman for her rearview or shapely legs. Lynne’s mini skirt and black leather boots hit him like a wrecking ball the first time he saw her. He hadn’t seen either with Noreen. The shapeless hospital scrubs did little to show off her figure. So why the attraction?

In spite of the unknown baseline factors he usually relied on when it came to the opposite sex, Noreen socked him right in the crotch from the get-go. In the midst of their first hospital confrontation, a small voice in his head alerted him that he liked this woman and her dedication to her patients. It had been arousing.

The front doorbell chimed and Gia’s casted hand thumped his thigh. She moved to crawl onto his lap and he lifted her into place, missing The Captain’s grand entrance. Lynne stormed the table and Gia shrunk closer to his chest.

“What’s going on here?” Her shrill question startled Noreen, who sat with her back to the door. He hadn’t had time to warn her.

Blake recognized that tone. Batten down the hatches. The Captain had the throttle wide open and she was haulin’ ass through the waters of her world. “Hello Lynne. What are you doing here?”

Lynne stared at Noreen, seemingly not recognizing her in a setting outside the hospital. He understood that. Out in public, Noreen looked much different, soft, and sexy. At the hospital, with her hair tied back, she was all business.

This was a good sign. Maybe they weren’t conspirators.

“What is all this?” Lynne’s hand swept the air. “Who are—” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. “Noreen? What are you doing here?” Amazingly, Lynne’s voice lost its piercing pitch with that last question. She had an audience now and an act to perform.

Noreen remained silent, more focused on Gia than her mother.

In a public setting like this, among strangers except for Noreen, Lynne was unlikely to make a scene. Nevertheless, he wanted control of the situation.

“Lynne, you remember Nurse Jensen, don’t you? She’s completing a welfare check for the hospital and agreed to meet us here. She just began her eval—”

Lynne’s head swiveled like a loose bar stool. “At an ice cream shop?” Her tone was incredulous. “A welfare check on my child in an ice cream store where Argia is not only exposed to harmful bright lights but also loud noises? You have no business bringing her here, knowing she has lactose issues and her palette is sensitive to hot and cold. I suppose this was your idea?”

Against his chest, Gia nestled tighter. “The only loud noise is your raised voice, Lynne. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself.”

Lynne turned her attention to Noreen. “You should have notified me. I’m the primary medical contact. I would’ve brought her to the hospital for tests and a full and proper evaluation. This isn’t even a sanitary setting for her and her resistance is so low, she’s susceptible to bacteria. Argia also has sensory issues and this environment could be harmful to her. You’re a nurse, you should know that. You’re the professional, or at least I thought you were.”

Leave it to The Captain to take a cheap shot. Noreen had either lost her ability to respond or been stunned into silence.

But he wasn’t. “You don’t have to insult her, Lynne. This was the most convenient meeting location that accommodated our schedules. And it’s my understanding the hospital did try to reach you, but you weren’t home. Where have you been? Another spa getaway for your mental stability?”

God knows, he’d paid for enough of those. He learned early on that any crisis that arose, be it the decision to move from an apartment to a house or whether or not to save their marriage, required a weekend at the spa for Lynne to “meditate and find her true self.”

She turned on him with vengeance in her eyes. “How dare you? First you take my daughter out of my house against my wishes and then you imply that I escape the emptiness within those walls with a frivolous excursion. For your information, I’ve been meeting with specialists about her condition. I’ve arranged for an expert in the field of autism to assess her. That’s why I’m here. The appointment is tomorrow so I need to take her home. Your mother told me where to find you.”

Across the table, Noreen’s jaw dropped.

He chose his words carefully, needing to repress his rising anger. “She’s not autistic, Lynne. And she doesn’t have a condition. I’m not going to allow you to torture Gia with needless tests.”

“It’s not for you to decide. Come, Argia.” She stretched for Gia with long, red, perfectly manicured fingernails coming through the air like a hawk’s claw reaching for prey. Instinctively, he lifted Gia from his lap and placed her by his side, shielding her from her mother’s grasp.

“I won’t let you take her.”

“Then I’ll have you arrested.” Her head pivoted toward Noreen. “Again. It wouldn’t be the first time the police were called to play referee between this brute and my well-intentioned plans. Did you know that?”

Poor Noreen. She wore that deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Come, Argia. You’re not allowed to have dairy, your father knows that. He’s deliberately trying to make you ill.”

Blake swatted Lynne’s arm away and jumped out of the booth. “Back off, Lynne. You can’t storm in here and snatch her from me like this. I’ll break your arm if you try that again.”

He regretted the threat immediately. Lynne screamed and stepped away from the booth. “Did you hear that? He threatened me.” She pointed to Noreen. “You’re my witness. My God, he threatened me with physical harm.” She spun toward the counter where the employees and every customer in the shop stared at her. Cue the centerstage spotlights.

“Help me. Call the police. My life has been threatened.”

He pressed his hand over his mouth to keep from snapping at her then raised both open palms in the air. “It’s all right, folks,” he said to everyone in the store. “There’s no need to call the police. This is just a minor disagreement.”

“Minor disagreement?” Lynne’s high-pitched squeal filled the room and somewhere, a child burst into tears. “You call threatening to break my arm a minor disagreement?” She locked her hands in prayer mode. “I beg you, please,” she beseeched the two stunned teenagers behind the counter, “call the police before he kills me.”

He didn’t blame the pimple-faced girl when she reached for the phone. The exhibition was frightening. His shoulders slumped knowing this couldn’t end well. He turned to reassure his daughter that it would all work out and his breath caught at the sight of her empty spot.

His eyes darted to Noreen who cuddled Gia against her side. A look of terror etched both of their faces.

He sat down slowly and eased Gia’s ice cream cup toward her. “It’s okay, peanut. Finish your ice cream. Me and your mom only need to work some things out. It’ll be fine.” He raised his eyes to Noreen. Oddly, it was comforting to see her protecting his baby girl. Gia must have crawled under the table to sit by her. Had she done that of her own volition? Or had Noreen encouraged her to safety?

He wanted to plead for Noreen to take his side and yet she needed to see why he ended his marriage to this maniacal woman. And why, no matter how long it took, he had to wrest his daughter away from her mother.