The Kindergarten orientation was a mass of small children, parents and teachers. It was apparent which teachers were knew to school; they sat quietly and read over the agenda for the afternoon as though the paper held the secrets to eternal life. Veterans chatted in small groups and called out to other parents they knew. Children that knew each other skipped about and compared new haircuts.

 

Seated in the rear of the Cedar Grove Elementary School cafeteria, Heather Lucas tried to look like she knew what she was doing. She knew she was failing miserably. She had memorized the agenda down to the last detail. She knew precisely how many seats were at each table in the cafeteria. She had learned every bus driver's name thanks to the bulletin board to her left that showed the school's appreciation for them.

 

She had given up looking for someone she knew. A few faces were familiar; most likely she had seen them at the park or grocery store within the last five months. None of the names listed on the paper (handed to her by a smiling older woman at the door who introduced herself as the secretary) were familiar to her.

 

Deciding not to count the tiles on the ceiling she turned to her daughter. Donna was quietly sitting next to her, studiously filling in Winnie the Pooh's shirt with a bright red crayon. Heather smiled at the look of complete concentration on her child's face. The small plastic container of crayons sat on the table next to the coloring book and Heather double-checked the floor to make sure none had gotten away.

 

She shouldn't have worried. Donna was borderline obsessive-compulsive when it came to her crayons and coloring books. She insisted on coloring each page in sequence and Heather vividly remembered the meltdown when her cousin's son had torn a page from the middle of the Finding Nemo book before Donna had a chance to color the first page. Crayons never littered the kitchen table and Heather never found them on the sofa after she had put Donna to bed.

 

Perhaps it was wrong of her to indulge her daughter's obsession with coloring but she couldn't help it. Aside from the teddy bears and various stuffed animals Donna had amassed since birth and the blankets Heather knitted for her frequently, coloring books and crayon were her main enjoyment in life. She rarely watched TV, had decided back in April that Barbie dolls were dumb and hardly glanced at the shelves of toys in Wal-Mart on her way to the coloring books. Heather silently thanked the Lord for sending her a child who was happier with a coloring book of Disney Princesses than with an expensive, noisy toy.

 

"How's it coming along, honey?" she asked, reaching to smooth Donna's blonde hair away from her face. Hopefully she would be able to manage a trim over the weekend.

 

"Almost finished, Mommy." Donna paused in her coloring and regarded the page. "Do you think my teacher will like it?"

 

"She'll love it," Heather promised before pressing a kiss to her daughter's head. "It's beautiful."

 

"Piglet's tongue is red. I couldn't find my dark pink one."

 

"It broke, remember? When we leave here we'll stop at the store and buy a new box." Heather was thankful that her tips had managed to cover the new school clothes and list of supplies. The list had taken up two pages and Heather still didn't understand why a four year-old girl would need a box of gallon freezer bags at school. Luckily the bills were paid for the month and she had enough leftover from paying the babysitter to give her daughter a treat after orientation.

 

A small boy whizzed by with a gleeful laugh and Heather had to bite back the envy she felt when she saw his mother rush after him. She was dressed in obviously expensive clothes and her professionally bleached hair hung in gentle waves past her shoulders. Heather refrained from touching her own hair, which hadn't seen the inside of a salon since February. Expelling a sigh she watched as the mother sashayed to the front and took a seat, crossing her tanned legs and smoothing her designer jeans with perfectly manicured fingers.

 

Who brings a Coach bag to Kindergarten orientation? Heather wondered, turning her attention back to Donna. The shirt was almost complete. After that Donna would color in the honey pot and put her initials at the bottom.

 

Her gaze slid about the filling room. All the children were so much bigger than Donna. Was she doing the right thing? The head of the daycare center had encouraged her to apply for early entrance for Donna. The lady from the school board, principal and one of the teachers had been amazed by the girl's test results, so amazed that they had made her take the tests again.

 

Donna had surpassed her previous score by ten. She had been three away from a perfect score. The principal had marveled that no one had ever done that well before. The teacher had given Donna a present for doing so good and had immediately won the girl's favor; it had been two coloring books and a box of crayons.

 

Everyone had assured her that Donna was ready for Kindergarten, despite being a full year younger than the norm. She was advanced for her age, the pediatrician had assured her. She was mature. She was extremely well-behaved. She was possibly smarter than some of the other children entering Kindergarten.

 

And then the final argument, from the principal, which had broken Heather's reserve.

 

Surely you don't want to hold back her progress?

 

Heather knew they were right. She had realized Donna's advancement when she'd begun to walk at nine months. And it had been clinched in her mind when suddenly at the age of eighteen months her daughter had turned to her and spoken with the eloquence of a three year-old.

 

When the principal made his way around the tables and approached the microphone, Heather reached to give Donna an encouraging squeeze.

 

She was doing the right thing.

 

- - -

 

"Mommy? What does 'success' mean?" Donna asked as she walked down the hallway with her mother.

 

"Success?" Heather repeated. Her eyes scanned the signs on each classroom door they passed, looking for the name that was printed on the card handed her by the lady at the table. J. Timberlake…

 

"What's it mean? Mr. Smith said it when he was talking to everybody."

 

"Success means reaching a goal. Remember when you wanted to help me save money for the big teddy bear we saw in the mall?"

 

Donna nodded. "I put all my pennies and quarters in the piggy bank."

 

"That's right. And at the end of the month we counted all the money we had saved and had enough to buy the teddy bear and ice cream. That was success. Our goal was getting the teddy bear and we got him."

 

"And ice cream."

 

Heather chuckled and squeezed her daughter's hand. "It was good ice cream, wasn't it?"

 

"The best. Can we go back there again?"

 

"We'll see." Heather paused when she found the name she was looking for. "Here we go, honey. Are you ready to meet your teacher?"

 

"Yes ma'am." Donna clutched her coloring book to her chest.

 

The door was ajar and Heather hesitated before pushing it open further. Scanning the room she saw a young man seated at one of the child-sized tables. He was flipping through a stack of folders. The assistant, she guessed as she and Donna entered the room. "Excuse me, we're looking for Ms. Timberlake."

 

His head lifted and Heather was taken aback by the warm and welcoming grin on his face. Deep blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he got to his feet. "J. Timberlake?"

 

"Yes. My daughter's in her class…"

 

"His class," he corrected as he crossed the room. "I'm J. Timberlake."

 

"You're my daughter's teacher?" Heather blurted in surprise. Impossible. He was too… Too… Her mind scrambled for some reason why he couldn't be Donna's teacher. Too male, she decided. Her mental image of a Kindergarten teacher was a kindly woman, near forty, who was warm and kind to children and wasn't above crawling around on the floor to search for a lost hair barrette. Much like her teachers had been in elementary school.

 

"Yep," he answered, grin still in place. "The J is for Justin."

 

He was too tall, she added silently when she realized how he towered over her. Of course, she was rather short. He had to have a good foot on her. Maybe more. And he wasn't dressed like a teacher. He wore loose jeans and a comfortable-looking t-shirt. And sneakers. Bright white Nikes that looked as though they'd never been worn before.

 

Teachers wore slacks or simple suits and dress shoes. They didn't dress as though they were about to go to the mall. And they surely didn't smell like fabric softener and cologne.

 

He had hunkered down so he was even with Donna. "Hi, my name's Mr. Timberlake. What's your name?"

 

"Donna Marie Lucas. I thought only girls were teachers."

 

"Looks like Mommy thought that, too." He grinned again and Heather felt her cheeks turn crimson. "I've heard a lot about you, Donna. But the counselor forgot to tell me the most important thing."

 

"What?" Donna asked, eyes wide.

 

"She forgot to tell me what your favorite color is." Justin turned and pointed at a large bulletin board that took up an entire wall. A brightly-colored area rug took up the space directly beneath it and Heather saw several stacks of different colored papers. "See, I'm going to put everyone's name on a colored piece of paper and I want to do it on your favorite color. Can you help me pick one out for you?"

 

"Sure!" Donna pushed her coloring book towards her mother. "Can we do it now?"

 

"You go on and start looking through the paper and I'll be there in a minute, okay? I need to talk to Mommy."

 

"Okay." Donna looked up at Heather. "Don't tell him what my favorite color is, Mommy."

 

"I won't," Heather promised with a smile, squeezing her daughter's hand before she slipped away. When Donna was kneeled on the rug looking through the choices she turned her attention to the teacher. "Mrs. Falls told you about her?"

 

"I didn't know until yesterday that every teacher on this hall was arguing over who would get to teach her. We drew straws," he admitted with an easy grin.

 

"Nobody wanted her?" Heather questioned with growing horror.

 

"No, no. They all wanted her. I was lucky and got her in my class." He cleared his throat. "I've got a couple of papers for you to fill out if that's okay?"

 

"Sure…" Heather followed him across the room to the table he had been sitting at when she'd entered. She saw that the folders each had a child's name on it and as she settled into a low chair he began to thumb through them. She brazenly noticed that there was no evidence of a wedding band on his left hand and then told herself that many men never wore them. Feeling ridiculous, she turned her attention to his face but her gaze was immediately drawn to the biceps that bunched.

 

What was wrong with her? The last thing she needed to do was get interested in a man. Especially her daughter's teacher…

 

"I know you're probably sick of forms by now," he was saying as he plucked a folder from the stack. Taking the seat next to her he got a pen from the cup on the table and opened the folder. "This is just for my files in here. The office has emergency contacts and everything but I like to have them on hand just in case. By the time I sent for someone from the office and called you, who knows what might happen, right?"

 

She nodded with understanding and instinctively glanced over her shoulder to check on Donna. She was still immersed in the choices. Turning back to Justin, she accepted the pen and looked down at the paper he had placed in front of her. "I'm the main emergency contact," she explained suddenly. "If I'm at work and can't leave you'd have to call her babysitter. But my manager knows that I have a daughter and that she comes first so I don't see leaving being a problem…"

 

"No family in the area?"

 

"No." She held her breath. "We're new in town."

 

"Do I need to keep an eye out for someone posing to be related?" he asked softly.

 

"No, that's not a problem," she whispered. She prayed every day that it wouldn't be. That God would watch over them.

 

"I'm sorry." He had leaned close so the parents entering the room wouldn't overhear. "I know how tough it can be to lose a parent at a young age."

 

He thought she was a widow. "Thank you. She understands that Daddy won't be with us anymore. So I don't think that will be a problem. …Is there going to be a day when the kids bring their Daddies to school?"

 

"I think the PTA has a lunch with fathers once a month planned," he informed her. There was something comforting about his voice and she instinctively knew that he understood. "But don't worry about that, okay? I'll sit with her then."

 

"She'd like that," Heather said with a smile. His gaze held hers for a moment and she forced herself to look down at the papers.

 

He left her to it and went to greet the other parents that were in the class. Heather kept her eye on Donna, but she seemed to have no troubles interacting with the children that had joined her in the color selection. When she had finished filling out the paperwork she stood and watched as Justin went to join the group of ten kids, dropping down on the carpet with ease. He called each child by name and showed delight over their choices when they handed them over, pulling out a marker to write down the names.

 

She was surprised when a toddler suddenly grabbed hold of her leg and stooped down to greet the small boy with a smile. A big grin revealed dimples in his pudgy cheeks and he held up a figure she recognized as the latest Happy Meal toy. Glancing up she saw a woman she guessed to be near her age heading over with an apologetic expression.

 

"Timmy, you little rascal," the woman admonished as she scooped the toddler into her arms. "I let you down for five seconds and you go off flirting!"

 

"He's adorable," Heather admired with a smile. Timmy gurgled with amusement and held the toy out again. "Thanks for the offer, sweetie, but I think you'd miss it."

 

The woman chuckled and smacked a kiss to the boy's cheek. "Go find Sissy," she instructed before setting him down again. She watched him cross to an older child that stood near the doorway before turning to Heather. "Hi, I'm Liz. Zachary is my little one. He's wearing the Transformers shirt."

 

Heather glanced over to the kids and saw him immediately. He was sitting next to Donna and they seemed to be having a discussion about which was better, blue or purple. "That's my girl beside him. Donna."

 

"She's so tiny…" Liz breathed.

 

"She turns four in a week," Heather admitted. "Early bloomer."

 

"She sure looks well-behaved," Liz commented, wincing when one of the boys began crumpling his paper. She and Heather watched as Justin immediately intervened and spoke gently to the boy. Chastened, the boy carried the paper to the trash before selecting another one. Liz offered Heather a smile. "I like him."

 

"He's awfully young, though."

 

"Carmen's teacher was telling me that this is his first year teaching. He was an assistant in the classroom last year and when Mrs. Poarch retired he got her job." Liz sighed as Justin leaned across the rug to accept a paper from one of the children.

 

Heather knew exactly what she was thinking. She fanned her suddenly warm cheeks with the papers in her hand. Even as her mind screamed at her to stop. It was useless to even look.

 

"They didn't have teachers like that when I was in school," Liz whispered.

 

"Me either. Heck, they didn't have boys like that when I was in school," Heather admitted.

 

"Did you go to Jefferson High?"

 

"No. I went to school in Virginia." Suddenly her home state seemed very far away. She hoped it always would.

 

"How long have you been in town?"

 

"Since March."

 

"Wow. I thought I knew everybody here… Well, I've been staying at home now for two years so I don't see as many people as I used to. Do you work?"

 

"At the Eagle," Heather admitted softly. Everyone in town knew about the Eagle Tavern.

 

"You've probably seen my husband, then. Bruce Thompson? He and his buddies go there every Friday night. Boys' Night," she explained with a roll of her eyes. "That's the night they pile into their trucks and spend the night drinking beer and watching a game and acting all macho."

 

Heather struggled to remember if she'd heard the name before. She did know of a group of men who came to the Tavern every Friday. They always took the table in the corner closest to the TV. As bar patrons went, they were kind and decent and rarely did they raise their voices unless they disagreed with a referee's call during whichever game was on. "Does he have a friend named Johnny?"

 

"That's his cousin. You do know them. Now you can tell me when he tries to forget that he's married," Liz said in a conspiring tone that made Heather chuckle.

 

"Don't worry. They all give off the 'married-guy' vibe."

 

"They do?" Liz sounded surprised.

 

"They all walk in and greet Jim and sit at their table. They always order the same thing. And when I have their table they're always nice and leave me a big tip. And not one of them has ever pinched my bottom."

 

"Well, if they do, please slap them with your tray."

 

Heather laughed and when Liz asked if they could exchange numbers she agreed. For the first time since moving to Cedar Grove in March she felt as if she'd made a friend. As she tucked the receipt with Liz's number written on the back into her wallet she sensed someone approaching.

 

"Sorry about that. I didn't think they'd be that excited about picking a color," Justin explained as he stepped up to them. His grin was in place again and Heather noticed that he had tucked the marker behind his ear. "All finished?"

 

"All finished. I put Ally's numbers too, just in case I ever have to work the day shift." She held out the papers and felt a giddy, almost schoolgirl, flutter when his fingers brushed hers. "She's the babysitter."

 

"No problem. Just make sure she knows that she's an emergency contact."

 

"I will." Heather unconsciously held her breath when he leaned close to retrieve something from a shelf behind her. This close, she realized that he used Zest soap. And that his eyes were bluer than she'd thought earlier.

 

"Here you go," he said, holding out a sheet of paper. She glanced over it quickly and saw that it was a list of numbers and an email address. "My direct line here, my home and cell numbers and my email address. Just in case you have a question or a problem. Feel free to call me anytime."

 

Nodding, she carefully folded the paper and tucked it into her purse. She had never heard of a teacher giving out contact information before. But she reminded herself that it had been a good twelve years since she'd been in a school.

 

"Donna?" he called. When she had said goodbye to the children she was sitting with and walked over, he hunkered down once more. "See that basket on my desk?" he asked, pointing to the desk in the corner. She nodded eagerly. "You go get yourself something."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Timberlake," Donna said. She smiled brightly before walking quickly over to the desk.

 

"She is so adorable," Liz murmured. When Justin straightened she held out her hand. "Elizabeth Thompson. I'm Zachary's mother."

 

"Great to meet you." He greeted her with a smile and a firm handshake.

 

"Mom! Timmy's gross!"

 

The girl whom the toddler had gone to earlier appeared, holding him out at arm's length. Liz rolled her eyes, gave a long-suffering sigh, and excused herself. Heather noticed that she stopped to instruct her oldest child to keep an eye on her little brother before hurrying from the classroom.

 

Donna returned, holding a Fruit Roll-Up as though it were a priceless award. She thanked her teacher again and then tugged her coloring book from Heather's hand. Flipping through it she paid no attention to his surprise at the careful coloring she had done, instead searching for the one she had completed. When she finally located the picture of Pooh and Piglet eating from a pot of honey, she sat on the floor to carefully tear it out before holding it up to Justin with an expectant smile. "I did this for you."

 

"You did?" Justin asked with exaggerated surprise. He leaned down to accept it. "This is great, Donna. I'm going to take it home and put it on my fridge, okay? That way whenever I go in my kitchen I'll think of you."

 

Donna gave him an infections grin. "Can I bring you more?"

 

"Not too many. I have a small fridge," he explained. Taking her hand he helped her stand. "I'll see you Tuesday?"

 

"Yes, sir. Goodbye, Mr. Timberlake."

 

Heather smiled and reached to shake his extended hand. "Thanks so much. We'll see you Tuesday."

 

His grin tilted to one side slightly. "I look forward to it."

 

Donna kept up an excited monologue as they exited the school and crossed the parking lot. Heather buckled her in her seat and when she climbed in she heard her daughter mention that Mr. Timberlake's eyes were blue.

 

Her cheeks felt warm again.

 

As she started the car she found herself looking forward to the school year.

 

 

The one grocery store in town was centrally located. Its parking lot was small but most people just walked over to get what they needed for the day. No one actually shopped for a week's worth of groceries in one day unless they lived further out in the county. There were only two checkout lines not counting the customer service desk. It was small but well-stocked and Justin agreed with their slogan - If we ain't got it, it ain't worth buying. To some that probably seemed cocky and he had cringed when his college friends had come down one summer and told him that his hick town bordered on white trash, but nowadays he just smiled.

 

It was home. Plain and simple and uncomplicated. Like him.

 

A stack of flyers by the door showed the week's specials and as he walked past he picked one up. He sidestepped to get around the line of carts that he had never seen anyone use and glanced through the sales flyer. With school starting the next week he wanted to get something quick and filling that would keep in the fridge or freezer for a few days. Maybe soup, he thought. Stooping to retrieve a vivid green hand basket he turned when someone called his name.

 

"Hey, Ella," he greeted with a grin. Heading over to the checkout line he leaned against the end. "How's business?"

 

"About like my love life." The older woman shrugged and ran a hand through her bleached hair. "Dead."

 

"Oh come on," he teased. Ella had been the cashier at the store for as long as he could remember. He knew that at some point she'd been married but what happened to her husband he never found out. "I saw you going into the Eagle with Al."

 

A quick laugh made her shoulders shake. "Only 'cause it was Ladies' Night." Her brown eyes softened. "You ready for Tuesday?"

 

"As ready as I'll ever be," Justin admitted.

 

"Don't worry none. Those little darlings won't traumatize you too much on the first day."

 

"I just hope I do a good job." That was his biggest fear: finding out that he wasn't cut out to be a teacher to small children. He had been an assistant in one of the first grade classes last year and had only visited kindergarten. And learning back in the spring that he would be teaching five year-olds had nearly thrown him into a panic.

 

"You will. You're really good with kids."

 

Justin shrugged and glanced over his shoulder when he heard the tinkling bell announcing a customer. Turning his attention back to Ella he offered a smile. "It's Ladies' Night at the Eagle, are you going?"

 

"If Al gets around to asking me." Her attention was diverted and Justin watched as her face lit up with a smile as the patter of little feet came rushing towards her. It was the first time he had ever seen her stoop down to hug someone. "There's my littlest darling! What are you up to today?"

 

"We're making soup!" came the reply from the child wrapped in Ella's arms.

 

"What kind?"

 

"Real soup! No chicken. We only make chicken when I'm sick. Right, Mommy?"

 

Justin turned to see the mother's answer and felt a familiar tingle when he saw Heather Lucas walking towards them. He saw exhaustion in her eyes and recognized the black t-shirt with an eagle on the chest. He hadn't paid attention to her work address or he would have known already that she worked at the bar. But when he had glanced over the papers he'd been too busy watching her walk out of the classroom.

 

"That's right, sweetie," she agreed.

 

"Can I push the buttons today, Miss Ella?" Donna requested hopefully. "Please?"

 

"Sure thing honey. Now go over and get a candy bar." Ella patted her back gently and Justin didn't miss the nimble fingers that slipped a folded bill into the pocket of the pink sweater the girl wore.

 

"But I don't have any money. Mommy says we have enough for just soup stuff."

 

"Look in your pocket and see," Ella whispered.

 

Justin hid a smile as Donna's hand plunged into the pocket of her sweater. Brown eyes widened with surprise when she pulled out the dollar and her mouth dropped open. Ella was just too much.

 

"Mommy! It's magic again!" Donna squealed and Justin knew from the look on Heather's face that this was a regular occurrence.

 

"Get something and then we can shop okay?" she requested softly. As soon as her daughter was at the candy rack she looked to Ella. "Thank you…"

 

"Don't thank me dear. Thank the Magic Dollar Fairy." Ella smiled again and Justin received his second surprise of the day when she leaned forward to embrace Heather. "How are things going?"

 

"Pretty good. She starts school Tuesday…"

 

"That's right. Is she excited yet?"

 

Heather smiled and looked at Justin for the first time. He felt that funny little tingle when their eyes met and could only manage a weak smile in greeting. "She is now that she's met her teacher."

 

Him. Now he could feel himself blushing.

 

"Who did she get?" Ella asked.

 

"Mr. Timberlake."

 

Justin felt his breath whoosh from his lungs when Ella's hand made contact with his stomach. "Why didn't you say something to me?"

 

"You didn't ask?" he squeaked. Rubbing at the place she had struck tenderly he struggled to breathe normally. Who knew that sweet old Ella packed such a punch? "I didn't know that you knew Donna…"

 

"Of course I do. Sweetest little girl to ever set foot in here. Always polite. Always sweet." Ella smiled indulgently at Heather. "Tell this boy here that he's going to be a fine teacher."

 

"Don't," Justin groaned with embarrassment. "Let me get through the first week without any catastrophes."

 

Heather smiled again and Justin forgot the pain from Ella's punch.

 

"I'd better get my stuff so I can make my soup. See you tonight, Ella," he told the cashier.

 

"Yeah, if Al calls me," she reminded him.

 

"I'll see you Tuesday?" Why had he made it a question? He knew that Donna wouldn't be riding the bus to school and the only other option was her mother bringing her.

 

"Bright and early," she answered softly. With that smile that made his stomach tingle again.

 

"I'm looking forward to it." He had barely taken two steps when he heard Donna's voice calling out his name. He turned just in time to keep from falling backwards at the force of her embrace. "Whoa…"

 

"I've missed you!" she informed him with a pout. "We walked by the school on the way here and I told Mommy that I wanted to see you but she said you weren't there and I was sad and now you're here!" She squeezed his knee affectionately. "I got a haircut! See? It's only a little shorter but Mommy told me I needed to have a big girl cut for school. And she bought me these new barrettes!"

 

Honestly. How could anyone not fall in love with her? Once she had released his knee he leaned down so he could admire the freshly styled hair. It was a pale blonde and if he knew about hairstyles he would probably know what it was called but to him it was just an even cut. It parted on the side and was held back with a light pink barrette and was even with her chin. "You want to know what I think, Donna?" he asked softly.

 

"What?" she breathed. She leaned close as though he was about to spill his darkest secrets.

 

"That you're going to be the prettiest girl in school next week."

 

She giggled and her eyes sparkled and he didn't bother fighting his grin when her hand covered her mouth. "You think I'm pretty?"

 

A future heartbreaker, for sure. The boys in his class better watch out. "Downright adorable."

 

"Grammie thinks I look like Mommy."

 

Justin lifted his gaze to Heather, who stood nearby. Close enough to keep an eye on her daughter but not so close she could hear what they were saying. He saw her brown eyes that sparkled when she smiled just like her daughter's. And though her hair was brown and her face fuller he could tell that Donna had gotten her looks from her. "I think your Grammie is right."

 

Her eyes lit up again and he was glad she took it as a compliment. She hugged him before skipping off to have Ella ring up her Hershey bar. Justin watched her for a moment. A shadow fell over him and he straightened, giving Heather a smile.

 

"She's a great kid," he told her honestly.

 

"Four going on twenty-one," she mused. "She's so excited about next week."

 

"I am too." A partial truth. He hadn't gotten excited until he'd seen Heather smiling at him. And the anticipation of seeing her every morning and every afternoon, however briefly, had him looking forward to the first day of school.

 

Heather was watching Ella and Donna and that gave him the perfect opportunity to watch her. Her hair was down. It fell in soft waves to her shoulders and he could tell that something different had been done since he'd seen her at school but couldn't put his finger on it. Then she reached up to sweep her bangs back and he remembered that she hadn't had bangs the other day. His gaze was drawn to the thin gold chain around her neck and rested on the heart-shaped locket. He knew he was staring at her but couldn't care less. The black jeans and t-shirt accentuated her curves and her stance told him that she was comfortable with her body. A ring of keys dangled from one finger and a crumpled piece of paper peeked from the front pocket of her jeans.

 

Her hand fell to her side and he looked at her fingers. The nails were clean of polish, and her ring finger showed no signs of ever having seen a wedding band. His mind went to the missing father and he wondered what had happened to have pushed him out of the picture.

 

"You work at the Eagle?" he asked after a moment of silence. Donna was perched on the counter, slowly punching buttons on the cash register.

 

"Six nights a week," she informed with a smile.

 

"I went to school with Jim." Why he found that necessary information was a mystery. "I drop in when I can. I don't remember seeing you…" Great. Now he sounded like some creep trying to pick her up. Not that it was a bad idea… No. She didn't give off the vibe of being interested for a quick romp.

 

"He said the same thing when I told him you were Donna's teacher." She glanced at him. "And he swears that you've come in while I was working. You must be a quiet drinker."

 

Was she flirting with him? "I just have a few beers at the bar now and then." He preferred to watch sports at home. Where he could cuss out players and coaches and referees without worrying about who would overhear him.

 

"I'm just a lowly waitress. I've never worked the bar." She smiled again. Her smile did strange things to him.

 

"Next time I drop by I'll have to take a table."

 

"Hopefully you're a big tipper."

 

That was definitely flirting. "Depends on the service."

 

"It's always the best down at the Eagle," she drawled in a perfect imitation of the radio spots he'd heard for the bar. His eyes locked on the way her lips moved to form the words.

 

She had to be a good kisser. "Then I'm a big tipper."

 

"If I see you I'll make sure you sit at one of my tables, then."

 

"Do you work tonight?" he blurted.

 

"Six till two." She looked towards her daughter, who was walking over with her chocolate in a bag.

 

"I might drop in." It wouldn't be difficult. He would just tell Trace that instead of staying in and playing poker he wanted to go out.

 

Yeah. Because he went out often.

 

"I might look forward to it," she returned easily. Then, with a smile and a wave, she picked up a hand basket and headed away. Donna waved goodbye before falling into step beside her.

 

- - -

 

"I just don't feel like playing cards, that's all."

 

"We've had this game lined up for three weeks and suddenly you don't feel like playing cards?"

 

Justin shouldered his phone and rolled his eyes at Trace's tone. "We played poker last week."

 

"Penny ante bullshit," Trace grumbled. "What about the pizzas?"

 

They hadn't even been ordered. Why was Trace turning this into such a big deal? "We can still get pizza. Look…" he sighed and pulled out a knife to begin peeling the onions. "How about we go get a few drinks then have the game?"

 

"I don't get it though. Does Jim have some stripper appearing tonight?"

 

Justin closed his eyes as he sliced the end off the first onion. "No…"

 

"Does he have some hot singer coming or something?"

 

"No…"

 

"Did he hire a new waitress and you've got a hard-on for her?"

 

Justin cursed vividly when his knife sliced dangerously close to his fingertips. "What the hell--"

 

"Who is she?" Trace demanded.

 

"Who?"

 

"The babe you're all fired up to go see."

 

"I'm not fired up--" Justin cut off when he heard his friend's knowing chuckle. Grumbling under his breath he began to peel away the outer skin of the onion. "You are such an asshole."

 

"Seriously. Who is she? I thought your mind was full of crayons and finger-painting and the ABCs…"

 

Justin sighed and blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the sudden burning sensation. "My mind is full of crayons and finger-painting and the ABCs."

 

"And this mystery babe," Trace added. "What happened to not having time for a relationship? What happened to wanting to finish getting your degree and climbing up the ladder of educational success?"

 

Justin fervently wished Trace didn't have such a good memory. He even remembered things that were told to him when he was too drunk to speak. "Nothing's happened to that. It's still true."

 

"Then why are you so antsy about her?"

 

"I'm not antsy." He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his t-shirt and began to chip the onion.

 

"You're jumpier than a virgin at a prison riot."

 

Justin snorted back a laugh at the mental image the words conjured up. "Am not," he finally muttered.

 

"Okay, okay. I'll come out to the Eagle with you and watch you drool over whoever this new obsession is."

 

"You're such a pal."

 

"I'll even buy the first round."

 

"Stop, dude. You're going to make me think you like me or something."

 

"Can't stand the sight of you," Trace sighed. "I'll tell Jen that you're dragging me to the bar. And if she gets pissed it's all your fault."

 

Justin didn't think that Jen, Trace's wife of two years and so pregnant she spent the majority of her time propped up on the couch, would care too much that Trace was going to the bar. "I'll make it up to her. Buy the kid a basketball or something."

 

"Call when you're heading out."

 

- - -

 

"Is that her?" Trace hissed under his breath. For the tenth time Justin lurched at the feel of a foot against his shin and muttered his tenth curse.

 

He glanced across at the woman stepping into the bar. "You dumbass. That's Christie."

 

"When did she get so good looking?" Trace wondered, scratching his chin.

 

"When you weren't looking," Justin answered with a sigh. It was after six and Heather still hadn't come in. He'd toyed with asking Jim if she was sick but didn't want the owner to start teasing him. It was bad enough coming from Trace.

 

"When did her tits get so big?" Trace questioned as she sauntered past. She gave Justin a flirty smile before tugging her tank top down.

 

"When her ex-husband bought her implants. Don't you remember that?"

 

"No…"

 

"Her and what's-his-face went on their honeymoon for over a month and when she came back she was as big as Pam Anderson…" Justin trailed. Surely Trace would remember.

 

"Wait. When did she get married?"

 

"Three years ago I think. Then he left her six months later."

 

"Is she the one who got caught doing Jerry Tomlinson two hours before his wedding?"

 

"And Tina threw her into the cake…"

 

"And one of her implants busted and she had to get it fixed!" Trace announced. "Now I remember!"

 

"Took you long enough," Justin muttered. He lifted his beer for another sip and slyly glanced at the clock.

 

"Sorry. That's when me and Jen first hooked up. I was too interested in her tits to be interested in anybody else's."

 

"So now you're interested in another woman's chest?"

 

"Good God no. She'd kill me." Trace gave a curt nod and drained the rest of his beer.

 

"Never mind that she's the love of your life and about to make you a father. You just don't check other women out because she'd kill you." Justin shook his head in wonder at his friend's logic. He knew that if he were married - hell, even dating - he wouldn't think of looking at another woman. You were with the one you were with and that was it.

 

"Well, duh, she's the love of my life. But dude, you've got to understand. She fucking tries to trick me. Like last week when I took her to the doctor for her checkup. The nurse took her blood pressure and shit and as soon as she left the room Jen turns to me and goes 'Do you think she has a nice ass?'" Trace mimicked his wife's voice to perfection. "That was a no-win situation. If I said yes, that would imply that I was checking her out and that I'm an asshole. If I said no, I would have been an asshole because I wasn't paying attention to what was going on."

 

"What did you say?" Justin asked out of morbid curiosity.

 

"That Jen's ass is the only ass I'm interested in."

 

"Was that the right answer?"

 

"I guess so. She gave me head when we got home." Trace grinned. "And she woke me up in the middle of the night for sex--"

 

"Say no more," Justin pleaded with a groan. The last thing he wanted to hear was what type of sexual position his best friend had discovered.

 

"I'm telling you, man. You need to get a woman and get her pregnant. Because the past six months have been the best sex ever."

 

"…Jen is nine months pregnant, Trace."

 

"First three didn't count because all she did was puke her brains out. Once that cleared up, though…"

 

"I'm telling her that you go around talking about what great sex she gives now."

 

Trace grinned again. "Go ahead. She already knows."

 

"You are such a fucking asshole--"

 

"Can I get you guys anything else?"

 

The tingle that he had been waiting for hit him full-force. Turning in his chair he looked up and saw Heather. The first thing he noticed was that she was smiling; next he saw that her hair was pulled up with a clip. Soft touches of makeup brought out her eyes and her full lips. He quickly lifted his beer to drain it. Wiping his mouth clean he gave her a smile. "I'll have another, thanks."

 

"Me too," Trace put in.

 

"The service here was getting kind of crappy," Justin said as she reached to take their empty bottles. Her eyes met his and he knew she caught the teasing in his voice when she smiled again.

 

"I'll be sure and tell Jim that you weren't happy."

 

"I wasn't."

 

"And now?" she pressed gently. Her fingers tapped the longneck bottle she held and Justin loathed himself for the carnal thoughts that leapt to mind.

 

"The night's looking up," he answered softly.

 

"Good. I'll be right back with your drinks."

 

Justin didn't realize he was staring until Trace's foot met his shin again. Even that didn't tear his eyes from the gentle sway of Heather's hips and the delicious way the dangling ties of her apron tapped her backside with each step. When she disappeared into the room behind the bar he turned around in his seat.

 

"That her?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"The waitress. Is she the hot babe that has you all fired up?"

 

"Her name is Heather. Heather Lucas," Justin supplied.

 

"How did you meet her?"

 

Justin hesitated. He couldn't very well come out and admit that she was the parent of one of his students, could he? "I met her at school last week," he hedged.

 

"Her sister a teacher or something? I don't remember seeing her around town before… Where's she from?"

 

"Virginia." Justin purposefully neglected to answer the first question.

 

"No kidding. How'd she end up here?"

"Um…"

 

He was relieved when Trace's cell phone began to chirp. Saved from answering he shifted his chair slightly so he could watch the bar. She was there, laughing at something Jim was saying as she popped the tops off two bottles of beer. He noticed that she didn't bother with a tray, easily clutching the necks between her fingers and slipping past customers to reach his table.

 

"You need anything else? Sarah's putting in a batch of wings," she offered.

 

Jim's girlfriend made the best hot wings in town. Justin found himself nodding. "Ask her for extra sauce."

 

"Sure thing. Just holler if you need anything before I get back." Again Justin shifted to watch her return to the bar.

 

"Go ahead and holler, Justin," Trace suggested once he had put his phone away.

 

"Why?" Justin looked at the table in confusion. Their beers hadn't been touched. The tray of peanuts and pretzels was still full.

 

"You need to get rid of that hard-on."

 

Justin dropped his eyes to his lap. Seeing that his friend was telling the truth he snatched up his beer. "Keep the fuck out of it."

 

- - -

 

He was halfway to his truck when he remembered that he had left his cell phone on the bar. Trace had left hours ago, finally giving up on the idea of a poker game. So Justin had hung around, sipping beers and watching tipsy couples attempting to dance. And talking to Heather… He grinned at the thought and turned to go back inside.

 

She was sweeping the floor when he walked through the door. The TVs had been turned off and the jukebox no longer belted Patsy Cline. He glanced towards the bar and saw his cell phone where he had left it. It had been in his hand when he'd paid off his tab and somehow between putting his change away and assuring Heather that he wasn't too drunk to drive home he'd forgotten it.

 

Okay. So he'd made sure to leave it there and then stood out front talking for fifteen minutes until he was sure that everyone else had left. Was that so wrong?

 

Nope, he decided when she turned and saw him. She smiled and this time he expected the tingle. The broom was leaned against the nearest table and she walked over to greet him. As though he hadn't just left.

 

"How far did you get before you knew you'd left it?" she inquired, nodding towards the bar.

 

"Not far." If ten feet from the door counted…

 

"It started ringing five minutes after you left. I turned it off," she explained. Sweeping it off the bar she held it out. "Didn't want all of your girlfriends to kill the battery."

 

Girlfriends? He scoffed at the idea that he even had one. "Not likely."

 

"Fiancé?"

 

He shook his head. "No girlfriends. No fiancé. No friend-with-benefits."

 

"Too bad," she murmured. He thought he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes but it was gone just as quickly.

 

He pretended he hadn't heard her. "What?"

 

Heather nervously fiddled with the leather case of his phone. "That's sad," she finally said. His eyebrows rose when she moved forward and had he been holding anything when she took his hand in hers he would have dropped it. For one brief second he thought she was about to drag him to her.

 

He would have obliged. Gladly. He would have held her close and known that when he looked down she would have looked up. And he wouldn't have hesitated to kiss her. To see if her lips were as soft and warm as they looked. To find out if she tasted like the sweet vanilla that he smelled whenever she was near. He would have been more than happy to lean her against the bar and press against her. And he wouldn't have cared that the door was still open because he would have been too busy discovering the secrets under her clothes.

 

But she just held his hand and placed his phone in his palm.

 

Access denied.

 

Her hand stayed against his long enough. Long enough for him to see the questions in her eyes. Long enough for him to slip his phone to his other hand and slide his fingers around her wrist.

 

He heard her soft gasp and waited for her to pull away. But she didn't. She simply looked up at him, her lips still parted. Beneath his fingers he felt her pulse quicken.

 

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

 

"Touching you."

 

"I know that. Why?"

 

"Because I like the way you feel." It was true. Her skin felt like the finest velvet.

 

"Oh." Her tongue traced her lips and she slowly closed her mouth. His gaze dropped and he saw her chest heave.

 

Damn. "You want me to stop?"

 

"No. Yes. I mean…" She swallowed and met his eyes again. "I like it."

"So do I," he admitted.

 

She had moved closer. Or maybe he had. All he was aware of was the way her brown eyes shifted into a warm caramel and the brush of her breasts against his arm. The fact that her forehead was a mere inch from his lips…

 

"Heather," he whispered. God, all he had to do was dip slightly and then he could taste her. "Heather, I--"

 

"You almost finished that sweeping?" Jim's voice suddenly called from the room behind the bar. Justin hissed a curse at the swiftness with which Heather slipped away from him and knew he looked a fool when he slumped against the bar.

 

"Probably another minute or two," she called back. Justin noticed that her voice was an octave higher. He turned to look at her and wanted to whine. She was grabbing the broom. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hands shook and he was certain she had wanted a kiss as much as he.

 

"I'm--"

 

"Don't apologize," she whispered. "Please, don't."

 

"Okay…" He watched the quick, jerky motions she made with the broom and decided not to tell her that she was spreading the pile she had previously created. "Heather?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Can I call you?"

 

 

Coloring books were scattered across the coffee table. The easy chair by the lamp was surrounded by sections of the Sunday paper. A sippy cup of milk trembled on the couch when a pink blanket floated through the air to land on the floor. From the small speakers came the catchy music from a Disney movie. And on the floor in front of the fireplace, Donna danced wildly, the blue skirt of her Cinderella dress twirling around her legs.

 

Lying on the floor nearby Heather attempted to sing along to the song playing. Her daughter's face was priceless as she skidded to a stop when the part she had chosen as hers approached.

 

"Who d'you think you're kiddin', he's the earth and heaven to you. Try to keep it hidden, honey we can see right through you. Girl you can't conceal it, we know how you're feelin' and who you're thinkin' of," Donna belted loudly before collapsing to the floor with giggles.

 

Heather reached over and scooped the giggling bundle into her arms, blowing a loud raspberry against Donna's cheek. "You big ham," she accused.

 

"Nuh-uh, Mommy!"

 

"Yuh-huh!" Heather returned. "You're singing like you're on Broadway or something!"

 

"Princesses always sing loudly," Donna defended with utmost seriousness. "Unless they're sad. Then they sing soft."

 

"Good idea," Heather said with a nod.

 

"But I'm happy, so I have to sing loud!" Donna shrieked. Before Heather could blink she had jumped to her feet again and began to dance.

 

Heather groaned when the CD player on the stereo skipped and the doo-wop of Hercules was replaced by the thumping bass of a dance song. She had forgotten this song was on the CD. Donna loved this song, possibly more than any Disney tune ever created.

 

Immediately Donna switched to what she called her 'big girl' dance. She clapped her hands to the beat and wiggled her hips so exaggeratedly that all her mother could do was giggle.

 

What a great way to spend a Sunday.

 

Ally had brought Donna home on the way back to church as per their routine and over a late breakfast of pancakes and sausage links Heather had listened with rapt attention as Donna told her everything that had happened at church. That had been followed by a load of laundry and the heart-wrenching search for Toots, the flop-eared purple bunny that Donna always slept with. He had been found in the kitchen, trying to break into the refrigerator. Then with her daughter's help she had counted her tips from the night before.

 

Justin was right; he was a big tipper.

 

Justin… She felt her cheeks grow warm just thinking of him. Of the gentle fingers that had managed to keep her still with just a caress. Of the soft timbre in his voice when he said her name.

 

How she wished he would call. She hated herself for even entertaining the notion that there could ever be anything between them. Despite the fact they had just met, she knew he was out of her league.

 

He was a decent guy. A nice guy. The quintessential guy-next-door who happened to be drop-dead gorgeous. They type of man that at one time she had dreamed of spending the rest of her life with.

 

But she had learned that nice guys were never really interested in her. At least not when the 'forever' part was involved.

 

Donna suddenly leaned over her and she smiled at the pursed lips. Small ands were clenched and rested on small hips. Though her face and posture was all seriousness, there was a playful gleam in her brown eyes.

 

"Now this is the part where the rap breaks down. It gets real intense no one makes a sound. Everything looks like it's 8 mile now! The beat comes back and everyone lose themselves," Donna recited perfectly before twirling away.

 

Heather flopped back on the carpet and cackled. She was partially mortified that her daughter knew the words that her daughter knew the words to an Eminem song but it was too awesome to put a stop to it. She was grateful that their rented house was in a cul-de-sac and the house next to them was vacant. Who knew what the conservative minds of Cedar Grove would think if they found that little Donna Lucas loved rap music.

 

The song ended and she sighed at the sudden silence. The quiet lasted only a two seconds and then a bundle of energy landed heavily on her stomach.

 

"Ow," Heather groaned, wrapping her arms around Donna nonetheless. She pressed several kisses to the proffered cheek and shared the happy grin when her daughter snuggled close. "What are we going to do today, my little snuggle bug?"

 

Donna shrugged. "Miss Ella ain't working today."

 

"Store's closed on Sunday," Heather confirmed. She had learned after only two days in town that everything was closed on Sunday except Eagle Tavern, McDonald's and the convenience store. "How would you like to go to Mommy's work and have some of Sarah's wings for lunch?"

 

"No." Donna shifted slightly and Heather sighed when she saw the thumb securely in her mouth. "Wanna see Mr. Timberlake."

 

"You're going to see him at school on Tuesday," Heather reminded her gently. "What's the matter, isn't Mommy good enough for you?"

 

"Yes," the girl promised with a giggle.

 

"Just keep remembering that." Heather rubbed their noses together before lightly patting Donna's leg. "Hop up and I'll see if a good movie is coming on today. We can paint our toenails after lunch."

 

"Can we go swing?"

 

Heather smiled indulgently. "Sure thing. After lunch."

 

The phone rang just as she was pulling a container of soup from the fridge. Pushing the door shut with one hip she looked at the caller ID and forgot how to breathe. Timberlake, J. Forcing air into her lungs she picked up receiver. "Hello?"

 

"Heather?"

 

"Speaking." God how she wished her name didn't sound so wonderful when he said it.

 

"It's Justin. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

 

"No… Just about to warm up some lunch," she said. Still holding the soup she walked to the door and peered into the living room. Donna still sat on the couch. Thumb in mouth, Toots in her arms. Her eyes remained on the screen of the TV, engrossed in Cars.

 

"You haven’t started yet, have you?" Justin asked.

 

"No. I just took it out of the fridge." She wet her lips and ducked back into the kitchen.

 

"I was wondering if you and Donna wanted to go to McDonald's. My treat."

 

McDonald's. It had literally been months since she'd had a meal there. Aside from the occasional Happy Meal for Donna, it was more than the budget allowed. Her mouth watered and a craving for greasy fast food hit her so fast she nearly dropped the soup. Glancing down at the container she wrinkled her nose and she quickly set it down on the counter. "Your treat?"

 

"Sure. I'll even let you pick anything you want off the dollar menu," he informed. She could hear a grin in his voice and was able to tell that he was teasing.

 

"I…" Frantically she tried to come up with an excuse. There was no rational reason why she couldn't accept his invitation. Donna would get a kick out of the play area and the unexpected treat. And she would get a kick out of being able to look at Justin. "Let me check with Donna, okay? See if she'd rather have McDonald's or soup."

 

"McDonald's?" her daughter's voice suddenly chirped. Heather lurched and turned to see Donna was standing in the doorway. "We're going to McDonald's? For lunch? Really?!"

 

Heather tried to scowl at her daughter's exuberance but it was impossible. She heard Justin chuckle and realized it was useless to pretend anymore. "We'd love to."

 

"Give me your address and I'll swing by to pick you up."

 

"You don't have to go out of your way--"

 

"Unless you live twenty miles in the country it won't be out of my way."

 

As Donna bounced around with excitement, telling Toots that they were going to go to McDonald's, Heather rattled off her address. "It's--"

 

"The little brick house in the cul-de-sac," he interrupted. "You live two doors down from Momma."

 

His mother lived on her street? Heather blanched at the thought. "I do?"

 

"Yeah. She's got the Victorian with the oak tree. Just got it painted."

 

She nodded even though he couldn't see her. She knew the house well. It always seemed so cheery and warm, even though she'd never set foot inside. There was a swing in the oak tree and each time they walked past Donna told her that she wanted a swing in their yard. There were beautiful rose bushes that had been in full bloom since Easter and an abundance of flowers and shrubs. And always a lazy tabby cat sunning itself on the walk. "Yeah… Light yellow with green trim."

 

"I go there every Sunday night for dinner," he announced softly. Then he chuckled. "And two or three times during the week."

 

She wondered how it was their paths had never crossed. Surely she would have noticed him. "She must be a good cook," she said after a moment.

 

"The best. It'll take me about ten minutes to get there. Is that enough time for you to get ready?"

 

He sounded almost excited at the prospect of picking her up and it made her smile. "Yeah, that's plenty of time."

 

"See you soon, then."

 

After she hung up she looked down and realized she was still in the clothes she had worn to bed. A loose camisole and flannel lounge pants that had rubber ducks and bubbles. Her hair was a mess and she needed to brush her teeth. Seeing that Donna was still bouncing around, she cried out in horror. "Hurry up! He'll be here in a few minutes!" she exclaimed. Not giving Donna time to ask who, she scooped her up and rushed to the bedroom. "Here," she said, setting Donna on the bed and rummaging through the basket of clean laundry. She dropped a pair of jean shorts and a purple t-shirt on the bed. "Can you put this on while I fix my hair?"

 

"Who's coming, Mommy?" Donna questioned in confusion. She squealed when her nightgown was removed and dove under the comforter.

 

"Justin. I mean, Mr. Timberlake. He's taking us to McDonald's," Heather explained hastily as she went into the bathroom.

 

"Yay!"

 

Heather smiled at her daughter's squeal of excitement and began dragging her brush through her hair. With her free hand she grabbed her toothpaste and squeezed some onto her toothbrush. Barely letting it see the water she shoved it into her mouth. Tossing her hairbrush aside she rushed back into the bedroom, searching for clothes as she brushed her teeth.

 

Donna had one leg of in her shorts and was examining her belly button. "Mommy? Did the stork bite my tummy when he brought me to you?"

 

Heather rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "No sweetie, he didn't."

 

"Then where did this come from?"

 

"It… You… I… The stork got you from the cabbage patch and that was where your roots went into the ground." She wondered at her own crazy explanation when Donna's eyebrow rose in disbelief. "He did! He swooped into the cabbage patch and used his beak to break off your roots. Then he slipped you into the blanket and flew to where I was waiting."

 

"Did it hurt me?" Donna continued.

 

"Of course not. You didn't feel a thing," Heather promised. Her eyes moved to the clock and she thought she would scream. Dropping the armload of clothes onto the bed she charged into the bathroom once more to rinse her mouth. She grabbed her favorite clip from the basket by the sink and hastily pulled her hair up to keep it out of her face. "Are you ready?"

 

"Almost, Mommy."

 

Heather went back to the bedroom and saw one of Donna's arms had missed the sleeve of her shirt. Shaking her head, she helped right it before locating a tank top in the mound of clean laundry. "When we get back we need to get this stuff put away," she said to herself. "Then maybe I can find something when I'm in a hurry."

 

"I'm ready, Mommy!" Donna squealed.

 

"Do you know where your shoes are?" Heather asked hopefully, tossing her lounge pants towards the hamper.

 

"Uh-huh!"

 

Heather breathed a sigh of relief and listened to her daughter's bare feet slap against the hardwood floor of the smaller bedroom. She saw that it had been eight minutes since Justin's phone call and in her haste to slide her jeans on kicked the edge of her dresser.

 

"Damn," she squeaked, hopping on her uninjured foot as she pulled on her tank top. She caught her reflection in the mirror and groaned before tugging the garment off and throwing it aside. She'd forgotten that she hadn't shaved under her arms in a few days.

 

"Mommy! There's a truck in front of the house!" Donna shouted from the living room.

 

Heather leaned out the doorway of her room and saw Donna peering through the blinds of the front window. She noted that the girl had put her shoes on the proper feet. "A truck?"

 

"Yeah. It's Mr. Timberlake! He's here!" Donna backed from the window and hurried to the front door.

 

"Wait until he knocks-Donna!" Heather cried when small fingers grasped the deadbolt and unlatched it. Fear caused her heart to hammer in her chest and she rushed forward to keep her daughter from opening the door. Her worry increased when the door flung open and the late summer sunlight poured into the living room. Donna bounced from one foot to the other and called out to her new favorite person, who was heading up the walk.

 

"It's okay, Mommy. I made sure it was him," Donna promised.

 

"I know that, sweetie, but you don't just open the door…" Heather trailed, her eyes on their guest. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as a grin appeared on his face. She was staring and knew it but didn't care. It was impossible to look away from him. Especially when he wore those jeans and that beautiful blue t-shirt that made her think of his eyes… Which were covered with sunglasses. Damn him.

 

"We're ready!" Donna informed Justin as he climbed the steps to the front porch. Before his foot cleared the last step she moved forward to greet him with a hug.

 

"You are? What are you ready for?" Justin questioned, catching her easily. Heather's heart turned over itself when he swung her daughter up high before settling her on his hip. It looked so natural. As though he picked her up like that every day. He pulled his sunglasses off and placed them on Donna's face, causing her to squeal.

 

"McDonald's! I want the nugget meal. With fries. And milk! And can we get ice cream? Or cookies? Or an apple pie?"

 

"If your Mommy says it's alright," he promised.

 

"Mommy? Can I?" Donna requested, turning to look at her. With the large glasses covering her eyes it was impossible to see her full expression but Heather already knew what it was.

 

"We'll see. You have to eat all your Happy Meal first."

 

"That's easy," Donna murmured conspiringly to Justin. "Once I ate six whole nuggets and all of my fries and I still got ice cream!"

 

"Whoa, you did not!" Justin retorted. His eyes were wide with disbelief. "You probably can't eat two whole nuggets!"

 

"Yes I can! I love nuggets!" Donna folded her arms over her chest. "I can eat more than you!"

 

"Donna…" Heather chided softly. But neither of them paid attention to her.

 

"Oh yeah? We'll just see about that, missy," Justin decided.

 

"I'll win," Donna heckled with a giggle.

 

"It's on," Justin warned. There was a playful scowl on his face and Heather felt her heart flip again when he leaned close and rubbed his nose over Donna's.

 

"Eskimo kisses," Donna breathed in surprise. She returned the nose rubbing and giggled again when the sunglasses fell off her face. "I love Eskimo kisses!"

 

"They're the best kisses," Justin agreed. He kept his forehead against Donna's and Heather had to hold a hand over her mouth at the adorableness of the moment. Their eyes were locked in secret communication and never before had she seen her daughter so natural and relaxed with anyone but her. "You know what?" he whispered.

 

"What?" Donna was spellbound.

 

"They make me hungry." He patted his stomach with his free hand.

 

"Me too," Donna decided, patting her stomach as well.

 

"Ask your Mommy to go put on a shirt so we can go eat," he advised softly.

 

Heather gasped in horror and looked down. She had forgotten that she still wore her camisole. With crimson cheeks she turned away quickly. "You can wait inside," she offered meekly before bolting towards the bedroom.

 

When she came out a few moments later, nervously tugging at the hem of her t-shirt and still blushing with embarrassment, she found Justin lounging on the couch. The TV had been turned off and next to him Donna was going through one of the photo albums from the bookshelf.

 

"That's Mommy before the stork brought me," her daughter was saying. Heather's cheeks darkened further when she saw the picture. She had posed for the obligatory tummy shot at the baby shower her mother had given for her. Donna had been three weeks late and Heather knew she had resembled the Goodyear Blimp. Especially in the soft gray maternity dress she had been wearing.

 

She only hoped that her daughter hadn't started with the old pictures of Mommy taking a bath in Grammie's sink as a toddler.

 

"Look how happy she was," Justin murmured. His finger traced her face in the picture and Heather felt a tingle as though he were actually touching her skin. "She couldn't wait for you to come, could she?"

 

"She says that I was her miracle." Donna smiled and glanced up to see her mother. Immediately the photo album was slapped shut and she slid off the couch as Justin checked to make sure his finger was still attached to his hand. "Mommy! Let's go!"

 

He turned to look at her with that warm grin in place. "I didn't know you had a dolphin tattoo on your shoulder."

 

"Donna Elizabeth," Heather groaned.

 

"It was a picture from the beach," Donna defended with a small pout as she put the album back on the shelf. "I didn't show him the picture of you and me in the big bubble bath."

 

"…Big bubble bath?" Justin repeated. Heather thought her knees would give out at the suggestive tone of his voice. Her breath hitched when he winked.

 

"Long story."

 

"Can we go now?" Donna asked plaintively. Then, remembering her manners, she hastily added, "Please?"

 

"Her car seat," Heather remembered as she looked for her purse. "She can't ride without a car seat."

 

"I have one in the truck that she can use," Justin assured as he stood up. "Trace's nephew always wants to go fishing with us so I got a seat for him. He's about her size."

 

"Okay," Heather relented. She wasn't sure she had enough gas to get to McDonald's and back.

 

"My sweater," Donna remembered suddenly. She leaned on her tiptoes to reach the hook near the door and carried the sweater to Justin. "Can you help me?"

 

"You don't need it right now," Heather said. When Justin glanced at her with amusement she became conscious of the fact that he had said the same words.

 

"Jinx," he whispered as he scooped Donna up once more. He took her sweater and carefully draped it over his arm. "Did you know that there are magical fairies that get into my truck when I'm not looking?"

 

"There are?"

 

Heather smiled with amusement and pleasure as she followed him out onto the porch. She listened to his tale of creatures that left candy and treats in the car seat that was strapped inside his truck and enjoyed her daughter's delighted laughter as she locked the door. When she turned she saw him going down the steps, Donna secure in his grasp. A small arm wrapped around his neck and fingers clutched his shirt and she felt tears gather in her eyes at the beautiful simplicity of the moment.

 

This was how it was supposed to be. Impromptu trips to McDonalds and magical stories. Squeals of laughter and skipping down the front walk. Bright smiles and happy expectations and the blissfulness of knowing that tomorrow would be just as perfect.

 

She quickly brushed her tears away and hurried down the steps. The truck was four-door and Justin was leaning in the rear door to strap Donna into the seat. She heard his laughter and her excited talking as she approached and had to pause to brush away more tears.

 

"Mommy! The fairies left Roll-Ups!" Donna announced, waving three shiny-wrapped treats. "Mr. Timberlake told me I could have them!"

 

"Did you--"

 

"Thank you," Donna intoned before her mother could finish the question.

 

Justin grinned and tightened the straps of the seat slightly before stepping back and shutting the door. "That's okay, isn't it?"

 

"Absolutely," Heather promised. Oh, God. She was going to cry again. If he did or said something else that was sweet she would burst into tears.

 

"Good." His eyes met hers and she returned his smile as she reached for the door handle. "Here, let me get it."

 

She somehow managed to keep her jaw from dropping in surprise. Never before had someone opened a door for her. There had been the times when someone leaving or entering a building before her would hold it briefly, but never this. "Thank you," she managed to whisper.

 

"Here, it's a high step," he explained. Taking her hand in his he held on gently as she climbed into the truck.

 

She was glad that he shut the door. Her hands were so shaky she wouldn't have been able to grasp it. Leaning back against the headrest she drew in a deep breath and hoped she would be able to keep the tears at bay. At least until she could duck into the bathroom at McDonald's and cry in peace.

 

Something told her that crying in front of Justin would only bring out more sweet qualities.

 

As she buckled up and the engine roared to life she kept her gaze straight ahead, smiling at the sudden blast of Hank Williams and the cool burst of air conditioning.

 

He turned the volume down and glanced over at her. "What kind of music does Donna like?"

 

"There's a tear in my bear 'cause I'm cryin' for you dear!" Donna sang loudly.

 

"You are on my lonely mind," she and Justin crooned in unison.

 

"She likes anything," Heather said lamely while Donna continued to sing.

 

"She knows Hank," Justin murmured in surprise.

 

"You name it, she probably knows it." Heather shrugged. "She loves music. And McDonald's."

 

"A girl after my own heart," Justin decided, dramatically placing a hand over his chest before pulling away from the curb.

 

- - -

 

"How many was that, Mommy?"

 

"Seven." Heather shook her head in wonder. Never would she have dreamed she would become the judge of an eating contest.

 

"It was eight," Justin corrected.

 

"Seven. The one you dropped on the floor doesn't count as being eaten."

 

"How many have I had, Mommy?"

 

Heather glanced at the open box in front of her daughter. "Eight."

 

Donna grinned triumphantly before picking up the next nugget. "This is nine?"

 

"That's right."

 

"She cheats," Justin accused after taking a long sip of his drink.

 

"She didn't eat a Big Mac and large fries before starting on her nuggets."

 

"Exactly. She's cheating."

 

"Such a wonderful thing for her teacher to say," Heather said. "You challenged her to this. That's probably even worse."

 

"Nine!" Donna announced loudly. She picked up her drink and slurped the straw noisily. Then, picking up her last nugget, she glanced at Justin slyly.

 

"Unbelievable. I'm losing to a four year-old."

 

"You can forfeit. We won't think badly of you," Heather promised with a smile. She was amazed that Donna had eaten as much as she had and hoped it wouldn't mean an upset stomach later. But she kept insisting she was still hungry.

 

"I refuse to forfeit."

 

Donna turned to her mother. "What's that mean?"

 

"It means he's just a boy and that boys hate losing to girls."

 

"It does--" Justin cut off and shrugged. "Especially four year-old girls."

 

"This is ten," Donna told him. "How many do you have?"

 

"Eight."

 

"Seven," Heather corrected.

 

"Eight."

 

"There are two in your box and one on the floor. Don't tell me they put more than ten in that box."

 

"They might have…"

 

"What is riding on this challenge anyway?" Heather looked to Donna. "Did he promise you something if you win?"

 

"It's a secret."

 

"Does he get something if he wins?"

 

"That's a secret too."

 

"When did all this take place?"

 

"When you were putting on your shirt." Donna bit into her last nugget and chewed thoughtfully.

 

"If she grows up and becomes a bookie, I'm going to blame you," Heather warned with a glance at Justin.

 

"Admit it, Heather. This is the best fun you've had since moving to Cedar Grove," he jibed.

 

That was definitely true. She couldn't remember an afternoon that had been filled with more laughter. Instead of replying though, she gave a quick shrug and began to gather her trash. They had gotten drinks first and sat at an empty table in the play area, talking as they watched Donna climb to the top and explore every corner of the tower. He had suggested that, saying that he didn't want to risk her getting a stomachache from playing too soon after eating. She still marveled at how quickly he had gotten her to put her shoes back on.

 

No 'five more minutes.' No 'we're leaving right now.' Just a simple 'we have a bet to settle' and she had popped down the slide so quickly Heather had been speechless.

 

The meal had been leisurely and thoroughly pleasurable, with intermittent taunts about the nugget war. After completing her Happy Meal Donna had declared herself ready and Heather's heart had done that strange little tumble when Justin had taken her daughter's hand and they marched to the counter to order their boxes of nuggets.

 

She noticed that Justin was eating the last of his fries and that Donna had finished her last nugget. Looking at the two remaining pieces of chicken in front of Justin, she grinned when she heard him groan in defeat. "How does it feel to lose to a four year-old?"

"Sickening," he mumbled. But there was laughter in his eyes. He looked to Donna. "You win, sweetheart."

 

"I won!" Donna shrieked. Heather felt her cheeks burn when the other diners turned to see what she was screaming about. Donna threw her arms up in the air in victory and leaned back in the booth with a wide grin of satisfaction.

 

"Atta girl, don't gloat," Heather murmured, leaning to place a congratulatory kiss on her cheek. "Do you want anymore milk?"

 

"No. I'm full."

 

"About time," Heather mused. She handed over a napkin and was about to carry the trash to the trashcan when Justin slid out of the booth.

 

"Be right back," he promised. Then, whistling the song that he and Donna had sang on the way to the restaurant, he picked up the tray and sauntered away.

"Damn," Heather breathed. If she didn't know better she would suspect him of reading her mind.

 

"I like him, Mommy. He's funny."

 

"Mm-hmm." Heather's eyes were glued to him and the way his t-shirt stretched over his back as he dumped the trash. A crumpled napkin fell to the floor and he bent to retrieve it and she cursed her immaturity at the enjoyment she received from staring at his backside. His shirt rode up slightly and she got a thrilling glimpse of the waistband of boxers before he straightened.

 

"Mommy?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I have to go pee."

 

All stirrings of desire that had begun left abruptly. Heather hopped up and waited as Donna scrambled from the booth. Justin returned, still whistling, and she excused herself and her daughter. Smiling when he told her there was no rush, she started towards the restroom at the impatient tug of Donna's hand.

 

Something made her glance back.

 

He was watching her. He wasn't doing it covertly or slyly, either. One arm draped over the back of the booth and after another glance she saw that his intense gaze was on her backside. Unconsciously she added more sway to her hips and refrained from looking back until she reached the door of the restroom.

 

His lips were still pursed from his whistling but she knew he made no sound. When their eyes met she heard his low wolf whistle from across the restaurant.

"I can get her."

 

"Nah, I've got her." Justin slipped Donna's sleeping form from the car seat and held her close to his chest.

 

Heather hopped down from the truck and pushed the door shut gently. One look at him and she saw that he did indeed have her. Even though she was fast asleep, Donna had slid one arm around him and in the late afternoon light she would have sworn that her daughter was smiling. Leaning up, Heather smoothed the tousled blonde locks and was rewarded with a sleepy sigh. "She'll probably sleep all night."

 

"That's good, right?" Justin asked softly, falling into step beside her.

 

"Very good. Despite being the best babysitter in town, Ally tends to indulge Donna when she's the only one. I'm sure they were up till all hours watching movies."

 

"Disney Princesses?"

 

"Actually, no," Heather answered, digging into her purse for her keys. "She likes them, but when she has someone to watch a movie with she wants something more active."

 

"James Bond?"

 

"Not that active." Heather rolled her eyes. "She likes the Pirates movies. And Harry Potter. And she loves Will Smith." She unlocked the door and stepped aside so he could enter first. As she'd suspected, Donna's fingers curled possessively in the shoulder of his t-shirt.

 

"Which room?" he murmured. His hand rested on Donna's back gently.

 

"This way." She led him down the hall to the small bedroom across from hers, hoping he wouldn't peek into her own and see the mess of laundry. She leaned in the doorway as Justin carried Donna to the bed and bit down hard on her bottom lip when he squatted to remove her shoes. Once they were on the floor by her bed and her blanket was pulled up to her chin, he brushed a finger across the child's cheek.

 

"Sweet dreams," he whispered. He kissed his fingers and pressed them to her forehead.

 

Heather turned and stepped into her room to retrieve Toots. The purple bunny was hogging her pillow and had crept under the comforter. After shutting her bedroom door she carrying it back into her daughter's room and found Justin staring down at Donna. Hands in his pockets, his face was serious. Thoughtful.

 

"She needs this," she murmured. About to tuck the bunny next to her daughter she paused and held it out to Justin.

 

He quirked a smile and took it, long fingers smoothing over the plush fur. Leaning over he carefully tucked it next to Donna, making sure that the bunny was under the blanket as well.

 

Heather smiled slightly at the tenderness he exuded. When he backed from the bed she crouched to kiss her daughter's cheeks, as per their routine. Giving her a soft Eskimo kiss, she whispered a prayer.

 

Justin followed her to the living room. She kicked her shoes off near the door and placed her keys in her purse before looking at him. He stood near the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. He was probably ready to go. With her daughter exhausted from McDonald's and a walk through the park, Heather faced a lonely night.

 

"Would you like some coffee or anything?" she offered. "I only have instant, but…"

 

He smiled and his body visibly relaxed. "That'd be great."

 

While she waited for the water on the stove to boil, she gathered cups and spoons. She expected him to wait in the living room but he joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as though he had been in her kitchen countless times. Standing by the sink she watched his hand return to the back of his neck. "Not used to carrying around a four year-old?"

 

"Not hardly," he answered. "Guess I need to get used to it soon though."

 

"Have a seat," she suggested as the kettle began to whistle.

 

He was lounging in Donna's chair when she brought the coffee to the table. Learning that he preferred sugar and cream, she added both to his before dumping sugar into hers before dropping into her usual chair. He sighed with approval after taking a sip. "Good instant coffee."

 

"There's no such thing as good instant coffee. But it's warm and has some caffeine…" She set her cup down when his hand went to rub his neck again. "Sit up." She slipped out of her seat and moved to stand behind him. She had to rub her hands together and take several deep breaths to garner enough nerve but finally reached to gently rub the base of his neck.

 

Justin groaned slightly and let his head fall to the side. "Damn." Her fingers paused; she thought she had hurt him. But he leaned his head back slightly to meet her eyes. "It feels good."

 

Heather smiled and resumed her gentle kneading. Her thumbs eased beneath his t-shirt, carefully manipulating the bunched muscles. "I didn't realize you were so tense," she murmured thoughtfully. "Or was carrying Donna around all day that demanding?"

 

"I loved every minute of it."

 

The tone of his voice refused any contradiction. "I know she can be irritating sometimes…"

 

"No, she wasn't. Even when she was gloating about beating me she was still sweet. I doubt that girl could ever have a bad day."

 

Heather's fingers paused as she vividly remembered Donna curled on her bed and crying. Her attempts at calming her had been useless and she had been forced to endure her daughter's shattered innocence. She recalled her anger at the situation. At the person who was solely to blame.

 

"Hey…" Justin's fingers were tapping hers. Heather shook her head slightly to clear away the disturbing memories and found he was looking up at her with concern. "You spaced out on me. Everything okay?"

 

"Fine," she whispered. "Sorry."

 

"I thought I'd pissed you off." His fingers slid over hers in the softest of touches.

 

"You didn't." She continued working her fingers over the tight muscles. "Donna has had her bad days, though. When she doesn't have enough sleep or is coming down with something, for example. But you're right. She does stay sweet. Most of the time."

 

"Don't stop," he groaned. Heather's breath caught when he leaned forward and rested his head on the table. Exposing his entire back to her.

 

"Kind of awkward with the chair in the way." She laughed and playfully tugged at his shirt. "Go into the living room and stretch out so I can reach you properly. I'll be there in a minute."

 

"You're going to spoil me, Heather." He chuckled and got to his feet. After grabbing his coffee he gave her a lingering look then headed into the living room.

 

If she were a drinking woman; she would need one now to give her the strength to follow him.

 

- - - -

 

"Right there?" Heather whispered.

 

Justin groaned in response and managed a nod. "Right there," he rasped. "God, don't stop." He was whining but he didn't care. He couldn't remember the last time his body had felt so good. Her weight rested gently against his thighs and each time she bent forward her warm breath rushed over his skin like velvet. His shirt was draped over the arm of the couch. Warm soft hands that were still moist from the lotion she'd applied to his sunburnt shoulders worked the bunched muscles of his lower back. Chin rested on his folded arms, he was grateful that he was lying facedown. If she knew what her massage did to him she would probably be grossed out. Or maybe it would turn her on. He felt the pressure in his crotch tighten.

 

"You're supposed to relax," she reminded him gently. One hand slid up his back to smooth over his shoulder.

 

"I'm relaxed."

 

"Then why do you keep clenching your muscles?" she asked. He felt her shift on his thighs and swallowed a moan when her backside rested against him fully. "What?"

 

"Do you know what you're doing to me?" he blurted. He did. She was driving him crazy. She was filling his mind with erotic thoughts; thoughts that he hadn't had in over a year.

 

A year. No wonder he was so worked up.

 

"I'm massaging your back," she answered simply.

 

God. Could she really be that naïve? He turned his head slightly and looked back at her. No playful innuendo in her eyes. No suggestive curve to her lips. Just a sweet smile and complete decorum. Like giving a man a massage on her couch was a natural occurrence.

 

Why did he feel the bite of jealousy when he thought of her hands on someone else's back.

 

"It feels really good," he offered when her brows rose in question. Lame, his mind scorned while he rested his forehead on his arm. One would think he'd never been alone with a woman before. He could remember when it was easy to engage in playful banter that led to more intimate goings on. He reminded himself that in college it had taken only a look and a half smile to keep a woman by his side. And he assured his worried mind that not all of them had been drunk. None of them were. That was a promise he had made before starting college and had kept. No taking advantage. This probably explained his singular lack of hook-ups.

 

But he'd been too busy with classes and sports to really care. Occasionally he had dragged himself from his books to go to a frat party and more often than not those nights had ended with at least a steamy make-out session in his car. His friends had teased and told him he was weird.

 

Then one day while walking across campus he had spied her.

 

"Are you asleep?"

 

Heather's soft whisper made him lift his head. Her body was leaning against his back. Her hands were on his arms. Wondering when she had moved into that position he cleared his throat. "No, I'm not asleep."

 

"I was beginning to think that my company was boring," she admitted with a soft laugh that ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck. She sat up and smoothed the hair gently.

 

He'd called his uncle about getting a cut before school started. Now he wasn't so sure. "You're not boring," he promised. "You're just a damn good masseuse."

 

"Glad you enjoyed it." Her fingertips paused on his shoulder and he closed his eyes when she traced the gothic cross on his upper arm. "That's really good. Did you get it done in town?"

 

"Fairview," he answered. "Trace and I went together."

 

"When I can afford it, I want to get someone to recolor my dolphin. He's getting faded."

 

Justin held his breath as she slid off his thighs. Was it his imagination or had she just groped his ass? He smirked slightly and slowly rolled onto his back before sitting up. Heather was gathering their coffee cups. "How long have you had it?"

 

"Almost ten years. I got him when I graduated high school."

 

"Him?" he repeated.

 

"Well I didn't want to think of having a female on my back," she told him with a shake of her head. "How long ago did you get your cross?"

 

"Few years ago. I was going to get an armband. Trace got one and was crying so I decided to be safe." He shrugged and reached for his shirt. The room was dim with the last light of the day. She flipped on a lamp and he blinked at the unexpected light.

 

"Sorry," she apologized and immediately the lam was turned off. "Want some more coffee?"

 

He nodded, grateful for the opportunity to stay a little while longer. His eyes followed her from the room and he was once again transfixed by the sway of her hips. He thought about whistling again as he had in McDonald's, but something held him back.

 

She returned shortly with two steaming mugs and when he tasted his it was perfect. She settled in the corner of the couch with her knees to her chest, bare feet resting on the cushion between them. Her toenails were painted with vivid red polish that sparkled slightly in the low light. She must have seen him looking because she wiggled her toes. "Donna's handiwork."

 

"She's good," Justin approved. He remembered seeing the same polish on the girl's toes when he'd put her in the bed.

 

"She loves doing girly things like that. She won't paint her fingernails. But she likes our weekly pedicures. And whenever I use my green mask she has to have some too." She laughed at a private memory. "I think I have a picture or two of her wearing the mask. She always wants the full treatment so I put her hair in rollers and give her cucumber slices for her eyes."

 

"When I send home an assignment saying she has to bring a picture of herself from home, you have to send that picture."

 

"Oh no, she'd be mortified. She'd be upset if she knew I told you." Heather's face softened. "She really likes you, Justin."

 

"I'm glad. I really like her too." He sipped more of his coffee and it occurred to him that he should put his shirt back on. But he was too relaxed and comfortable and she hadn't said anything. So his shirt remained off.

 

"I just hope she doesn't cause trouble for you in school."

 

"How do you mean?"

 

"You know… Taking her to McDonald's, coming to her house…" Heather shrugged. "Would that be considered a conflict of interest or anything?"

 

"I'm not taking her out on dates," Justin informed. "There won't be any problems, I promise."

 

"You're sure?"

 

"Very sure." Was she worried that he might get in trouble? Did she really care that much? Already?

 

"Good. Because I know she'll want to do it again. And you know how kids are once you do something with them…"

 

"Give them an inch, they take a mile." He nodded in understanding. "I'm definitely going to want to take you both out again. I've had a lot of fun today, Heather."

 

"So have I," she murmured.

 

He watched the hand that rested on her knee. Fingers that had so easily rendered him useless plucked at the fraying material of her jeans. "So… Say I wanted to go out to dinner without Donna. Would that be a problem?"

 

"I don't see why she would have a problem if you ate out and didn't take her." He saw confusion in her eyes.

 

She obviously didn't understand when he was trying to suggest something. He cleared his throat and decided to give it to her straight. "What if I wanted to take you out to dinner? Would she be alright with Mommy going on a date?"

 

"A date?" she repeated. "As in you and I go out for dinner and a movie or whatever? And she stays at home?"

 

"Well I'm hoping that she would have a babysitter, but yeah, that's the general idea." His fingers were gripping the handle of his mug. He realized that he really wanted her to say yes.

 

"I… I really don't know how she'd feel about that."

 

"How would you feel about it?"

 

He saw her cheeks darken slightly. "I'd like it."

 

"I would too," he admitted with a sigh of relief. She hadn't exactly said yes, but she hadn't turned him down either.

 

"I haven't gone on a date in years," she murmured suddenly.

 

He chuckled. "I'm rusty at it myself." He settled back, more relaxed than he had been earlier. "Where would you like to go?"

 

"Gosh, I don't know. Dinner like you suggested?"

 

"Sounds great. What do you like to eat?" He wondered what her idea of dinner was. He'd have to look up the restaurants in Fairview and find a place that would be suitable for a first date. And get his suit cleaned. And--

 

"Something simple," she said, as though reading his mind. "I'd be happy with a pizza, Justin."

 

Scratch the trip to Fairview and cleaning his suit. "Antonio's has great pizza."

 

"So I've heard." She smiled and suddenly he wished the lamp was on so he could see her face fully.

 

"Don't let him fool you, though. Tony was born and raised right here in Cedar Grove. He worked for a pizzeria in New York one summer and came back with an Italian accent."

 

Heather laughed and he felt her foot lightly push against his thigh. "That's horrible."

 

"It's true! Momma went to school with him. He had this big idea of becoming an actor and went to New York to get his big break." Justin didn't mean for his hand to fall on her foot. He really didn't. But she didn't pull back and he idly smoothed his fingers over her skin.

 

"But he did get his big break. Antonio's is always packed," she reminded him.

 

"True," he relented. He carefully lifted her foot onto his thigh, reveling in the contact. "What's your schedule look like this weekend?"

 

"I'm off Friday and Saturday and work Sunday." He felt her heel dig lightly into his thigh as she leaned backwards. "Close your eyes, I'm going to turn on the light."

 

When his eyes had adjusted to the sudden light he finished his coffee and glanced slyly at the clock. Almost eight. He had spent seven hours with Heather and still wasn't ready to leave. He knew he should at least say something about going home but couldn't bring himself to utter the words. He felt her toes brush against his bare chest and had to hold back the unexpected shiver. He gently rubbed the heel of her foot and leaned back to look at her again. "Saturday good for you?"

 

"Perfect. Donna stays over with Ally every Saturday so she can go to church with her." She flexed her foot under his gentle touch. "I would take her myself but I have to work nearly every Saturday night…"

 

"Yeah, I understand. But you let her go, that means something."

 

"She loves it too much for me to keep her from going."

 

He nodded, noting her eyes drooping closed as he continued to rub her heel. "You're not going to sleep on me, are you?"

 

"Not hardly. Looks like you're a good masseuse too," she murmured.

 

"I'll do your back after our date Saturday," he offered.

 

"I'll bring the lotion," she agreed with a smile. "Do you want something to eat? I'm getting hungry…"

 

"I could do with some food."

 

- - -

 

They sat at the table and he talked about school and his decision to become a teacher while the leftover chicken fettuccini warmed in the oven. She was the first person aside from his family who was interested in what had driven him to go into education. The sliding glass door leading onto the small deck was open and the soft tones of wind chimes came in with the breeze.

 

"It wasn't some big revelation," he admitted after tasting her iced tea. "My freshman year I just did the basic classes and kept my grades up so I could play basketball. One day during practice I tripped and ended up breaking my knee. That put an end to college basketball and my dreams of being in the NBA."

 

"That was your life dream?" she questioned, moving to check on the fettuccini.

 

"Yeah. I was going to become famous and have all the major endorsements. And a big mansion and fancy cars." He rolled his eyes. "I was going to be the next Michael Jordan."

 

"So what happened after you broke your knee?"

 

"Well, immediately after I was cussing up a storm--"

 

"I mean after you found out you couldn't play ball anymore," she intervened. And even though she was behind him he knew she was rolling her eyes.

 

"I met with my counselor and she read this long list of careers. Some of them were really weird and some sounded so boring that I wanted to cry. We talked for hours and finally she suggested teaching." He could still remember his disbelief at the very idea. Him, a teacher? It had seemed so impossible. "I figured, hey, I was good with kids and it sure beat sitting in a stuffy office all day."

 

Heather was rattling around inside a drawer. "How did you get to teaching Kindergarten?"

 

"Last year I was the assistant for one of the teachers here. She taught for fifty years and was just amazing with the kids. I fell in love with all of them. They were so young and just craved knowledge. When she told me she was retiring I put in for a job here. I didn't really expect to replace her, though. I figured they'd put someone more experienced in Kindergarten. But I did the interviews and all the paperwork and found out I had the job back in May." Justin turned to see Heather pulling plates from a cabinet. Feeling guilty just sitting there he got up and crossed the small kitchen.

 

"Thanks," she murmured when he picked up potholders to carry the hot fettuccini to the table. "Wait, I need to add some parmesan." She leaned to retrieve the green canister that sat behind him on the counter. "I'm glad you got the job, Justin. I've never seen Donna attach herself to someone so quickly. I hope she's like that next year, too."

 

"She will be," he promised. He stood there holding the steaming dish long after she had added the parmesan cheese. Staring at her. It seemed only natural to lean to one side and step forward. It seemed even more natural to dip his head and brush his lips over her cheek. "You've got the plates and forks?"

 

"Yeah," she breathed as he lifted the dish higher and stepped away.

 

It took her a moment to get to the table. It was long enough for Justin to set the food down and press his fingers to his lips. Wanting to seal the sensation in his memory. When she set his plate and fork in front of him he noticed the nervous smile on her face. "Hey," he murmured, catching her hand in his before she could step away. "I didn't freak you out did I?"

 

"No," she whispered, her cheeks turning pink.

 

"You're sure? I don't want to upset you or have you thinking I'm some creep."

 

"If I thought you were a creep you'd have a pot of hot fettuccini down your pants," she informed him seriously. Her hand squeezed his gently before he slipped away to take her seat.

 

Justin knew he had a goofy grin on his face as he ate. But when he looked at Heather he didn't care.

 

She had one, too.

 

- - -

 

"I should probably get going."

 

Heather nodded sadly at his words even though he couldn't see. After dinner they had gone out onto the deck and settled in the Adirondack chairs. The muggy heat of the day had given way to a cool breezy night. Each time she looked up at the sky she was amazed at how close the stars seemed in Cedar Grove. The pine trees bordering the edge of the yard whispered in the wind and the wind chimes she had hung more often than not interrupted their conversation. She heard the ice in his glass rattle softly and glanced in his direction.

 

"It's getting late," he went on.

 

"Yeah," she agreed softly. She heard the gentle thump of glass against wood and felt around for her own glass. Her hands brushed denim and she cried out in surprise when long fingers wrapped around hers.

 

"Sorry," Justin mumbled. With a gentle grasp he helped her to her feet.

 

"You just surprised me," she explained, feeling stupid for acting so skittish. There was nothing to fear. Not now.

 

He still held onto her hands. "I'll see you Tuesday."

 

Not a question. A positive statement. "Yes."

 

"Do you work tomorrow?" he asked. His thumbs brushed softly over the back of her hands and she closed her eyes.

 

"No. I don't go back until Wednesday night." She had asked Jim for the time off so she could make sure Donna adapted to the schedule of going to school. The resulting lack of funds in her paycheck would no doubt hurt but she had to look after her daughter before anything else. They would manage.

 

"I'll call you." She could feel his breath against her forehead and her heartbeat increased at the sensation of his warm body so close to hers.

 

And the knowledge that she would talk to him again soon. "I'll be here."

 

"Momma's having people over for Labor Day," he announced suddenly. "Just chicken and burgers on the grill. She always makes enough to feed an army. I'll be eating leftover potato salad for a week…"

 

"It sounds like fun," she said.

 

"You wanna come? There'll be a bunch of kids for Donna to play with."

 

"I don't know. I'll have to see what kind of day we have tomorrow. I don't want to overexcite her," Heather murmured even as her heart began to beat faster.

 

"I'll swing by when I get to Momma's."

 

Just the sight of him at their door would be enough for her daughter to want to go. Heather had an inkling that Justin knew that just as well as she did. "Okay. Just… I don't want to show up uninvited."

 

"I just invited you," he reminded her with a chuckle.

 

"That's not the same--"

 

"As Momma telling you. I knew you would say that. I'll take care of it." His fingers squeezed hers lightly. "I'll call you."

 

She nodded, glad he understood. Slightly worried that perhaps he understood her too well. "Drive safe."

 

"Always." He shifted, bringing her closer, and she trembled at the closeness of his body.

 

"I had a great time today." His t-shirt was warm and soft next to her cheek and she leaned against him.

 

"So did I." He released her hands and she was about to pull away, thinking that he was going to move. Instead, his hands slid up her arms and rested briefly on her shoulders before cupping her cheeks.

 

Oh God. "I'll walk you to the door," she offered breathlessly.

 

"Not yet."

 

"Oh." Oh. Oh, damn, he was getting closer. His breath was on her cheeks. His fingers swept against her temples. Each movement took barely a second but to her it took forever. She leaned up with anticipation and when his lips finally covered hers she thought she would cry.

 

He wasn't hesitant. There was no sense of holding back in his kiss. A gentle slide of his lips over hers had her craving more. Here entire body quaked at the overwhelming tenderness that swept through her body. Her hands reached forward for something to hold onto and Justin's lips parted against hers when her fingers finally clutched his t-shirt. Faltering, she leaned into him and didn't resist when his tongue swept into her mouth.

 

God. He was sensational. Sweet. Gentle. And a fantastic kisser. Her thoughts jumbled incoherently in her mind but she paid them no attention, shakily attempting to return his kiss. It had been too long. For so long her body had laid dormant, the passion his lips and tongue caused within her forgotten. The feel of his body against hers, firm muscle and lean strength coupled with  the feather-soft brush of his fingertips against her throat threatened to send her into oblivion.

 

She wanted him.

 

That thought, reverberating through her mind, finally reached her and she had no idea what to do about it. No clue whether to make advances or wait for him.

 

His teeth grazed her bottom lip and she decided his speed was perfect. Shaky fingers worked their way up his chest and she moaned at the feel of his stubbly cheek. The curls at his neck begged to be touched and just as her fingers curled within them he hauled her closer.

 

"I should get going," he mumbled, drawing their kiss into several short pecks.

 

"Mm-hmm," she responded. She could feel his pulse beneath her thumb and caressed it.

 

"It's late." His mouth finally pulled from hers and he wasted no time before brushing moist kisses along her jaw. His breath burned against her skin.

 

"Yeah." She closed her eyes and tried her best to breathe normally.

 

His lips blazed a trail to the curve of her neck. She felt her knees buckle and her entire body burned when his arm circled her waist. "We should leave something for our date," he murmured, even as his lips brushed her earlobe.

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him that there were many more things they could do on their date but her nervousness silenced her. She merely nodded slightly in response, sucking in a calming breath before his lips met hers again. He licked the last remnants of her favorite lip gloss from her lips before offering a final, tender kiss.

 

Resting his forehead against hers gently, he inhaled sharply. "Whoa."

 

"You can say that again," she whispered shakily.

 

"Whoa," he repeated. His thumbs caressed her cheeks again and she allowed her hands to drop away from him, wanting to cry when he released her. "I'll call you."

 

She nodded. "I'll walk you out."

 

Their steps were slow as she led him to the front door. Fingers twined, she smiled each time he paused to offer another kiss. She accepted willingly and glanced longingly towards her bedroom door. He chuckled when he caught her glance and caught her close for another kiss. "Our date's coming, remember?"

 

Not soon enough, her traitorous body screamed. She smiled, though, and leaned in the doorway as he got his keys out. He reminded her again that he would call her tomorrow and she held her breath when he stepped out onto the porch.

 

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?" she blurted.

Justin anxiously tapped his pen against the doorframe as the principal's announcement echoed in the empty room. The first bus of the day had arrived. He had checked his list and knew that two of his students would be arriving but knew he still had a good twenty minutes before anyone came to his room. The two students on the early bus would be eating breakfast in the cafeteria. He was grateful for the last-minute respite.

 

He was a nervous wreck.

 

What if they didn't like him? Sure, most of them had come by for orientation and had seemed to like him just fine. But that had been different; it had just been for a half hour. Not all day.

 

What if he couldn't teach them anything? What if the parents decided they didn't like his style of teaching?

 

He reached to adjust his tie but when his fingers met the unbuttoned collar of his shirt he remembered that he'd chosen against the tie. It would only get in the way. A dangling object plus small children plus leaning over equaled choking.

 

"You look like you're heading to your own execution," an amused voice commented from across the hall.

 

Justin looked over and saw Mrs. Newsome standing in her doorway. "It shows, huh?"

 

"Better put your poker face on. If they see you looking like that they'll walk right over you."

 

Justin gulped nervously. "I don't know why I'm so nervous. I mean, last year was great. But I wasn't in charge then…"

 

"And you're worried that you'll make a mistake. Did you have Mrs. Elliott in high school?"

 

"Homeroom, Study Hall and English," he remembered with a grin. "Junior and senior year."

 

"She was my favorite teacher in school. The week before my first day as a teacher I saw her in town and she told me something that helped me more than any advice column ever could."

 

"You're going to share this great wisdom with me, aren't you?" Justin questioned hopefully. Mrs. Elliott had been the best teacher at Thomas Jefferson High School. And probably still was. He made a mental note to drop by one afternoon and visit her after school.

 

"Don't greet those kids thinking that you'll be the best teacher in the world or even in the school. Don't stand up in front with the idea that twenty years from now they'll remember you or what you told them. Just do the best you know how to do and do it with a smile."

 

Justin nodded, turning the words over in his head for a moment. "And it worked for you?"

 

"Every day."

 

"Thanks." Despite his momentary relaxation he lurched when the bell rang.

 

"You're jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof," Mrs. Newsome chuckled before turning back into her classroom.

 

Sighing, Justin ran a hand over his face and glanced down the hall. Liz Thompson was heading his way, sleeping toddler on her hip and a grinning Zachary at her side. He straightened up and put a smile on his face.

 

He could do this.

 

- - -

 

He couldn't do this.

 

He watched his next-to-last student go down the hall to line up for the last bus and sagged in the doorway with relief. A headache had formed at lunchtime and despite the Tylenol he had taken it hadn't let up a bit. He turned to look inside the room and saw his last student sitting in her seat, studiously working on the coloring sheet she'd requested. There were a few loose papers on the carpet and he saw that someone had left a jacket behind.

 

He crossed the room and picked up the loose papers, tucking them into the appropriate desks. The jacket was in a heap next to a cubby and he recognized it as Zachary's. He hung it on the hook after shaking it clean, then moved to drop a few flakes of food into the aquarium. The two goldfish that he'd bought, thinking of all the wonderful moments children could have looking at them, had spent the day hiding behind the fake rock.

 

"Mr. Timberlake, can I help you please?"

 

Donna's voice made him look back. About to drop the food into the tank, he pulled his hand back and nodded. "Sure, come on."

 

"Will Mommy be here soon?" Donna asked as she crossed to the table next to his desk. She pulled out the stepstool and climbed onto it.

 

Justin glanced at his watch. "Just a couple more minutes," he assured. Heather had mentioned a doctor's appointment that morning and he had promised her it would be okay if she was a few minutes late. "Here, this will hold them overnight."

 

"Do they have names?"

 

He shook his head. After setting up the tank with him, Trace had suggested 'Tard and Retard, but that had seemed far from appropriate. "Maybe during circle time tomorrow we can try to think up names for them, okay?"

 

"Are they boy fish or girl fish?"

 

"Girl and boy," Justin answered hastily, not wanting to get into a discussion on how to sex fix. "The little one's the boy."

 

"Oh…" Donna peered into the tank and her lips pursed in frustration when the fish ignored the food floating. "They don't like me."

 

"They're just nervous. Give them time, they'll always come to greet you," he promised, gently closing the lid and switching the light off. "Did you finish your picture?"

 

"Almost." She pushed the stool back in its place under the table. She started to skip back to her seat but stopped herself and walked slowly.

 

Justin grinned, shaking his head. Apparently when he'd warned to walk inside she had listened. His fingers drummed against his desk as he dropped into his chair. There were some papers he needed to file away. And he needed to type up the phone number list to keep by the phone. There were a few papers he had to sign and get back to the office. He also had to get the ice cream money bag from the cafeteria.

 

"Mr. Timberlake, can you help me?"

 

Grateful for the distraction he left his seat quickly and walked over to Donna's desk. "What's the problem?"

 

"I don't know what color hair she has," Donna told him, lightly tapping a white crayon against her paper.

 

"Well let's see…" Justin trailed, pulling the chair next to her out. Sitting down, he regarded the picture of a woman placing food on a table. It had come from a coloring book about vegetables and fruits, which had been the closest at hand when Donna had asked for a page to color. "What color are her eyes?"

 

"Brown. Like mine and Mommy's."

 

"Of course. You could give her yellow hair if you wanted her hair to be like yours. Or you could color it brown or black or red…"

 

"Brown," she decided, reaching for her school box of crayons. "Like Mommy's."

 

Justin seriously doubted there was a crayon that could match the shade of Heather's hair. In near darkness it was a luxurious cocoa color; in sunlight several strands picked up the light like fine gold. Even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the school it had shone. "Good idea. You finish that and I'm going to start getting stuff ready for tomorrow."

 

"Are we having chicken for lunch again tomorrow?"

 

"Pizza," Justin answered without even looking at the menu.

 

"Yummy," Donna decided with a grin.

 

Justin nodded in agreement as he stood. "You've got all your stuff ready?" He knew she did, but he had to double-check.

 

"My jacket's in my book bag. My coin purse is in the front zipper. My folder is behind my jacket." Donna paused thoughtfully. "I don't have to take my crayons home 'cause I have some at home already."

 

He knew. After walking her and her mother home the evening before he'd been given a tour of Donna's room and had been amazed at the amount of crayons the girl had. Glitter crayons. Neon crayons. Scented crayons. Crayons that only showed up on black paper. And of course, normal everyday crayons.

 

He would have liked to have had a tour of Heather's room as well but Donna had been wide awake with no signs of being ready for sleep. The stolen kiss in the kitchen when she had gone to find her pajamas more than made up for it, though. Heather had seemed a bit uneasy about kissing him in front of her daughter and he understood. She had even kept herself at a slight distance during the cookout at his mother's.

 

He smiled, remembering her sudden nervousness at meeting his mother. He didn't understand that part. It wasn't like his mother was some grand dragon ready to spit fire at any woman her son was interested in. His mother had handled the situation perfectly though. She had been bringing out the dish of chicken that had been marinating overnight and just shoved it at him before taking Heather into the house for a glass of iced tea and a chat.

 

He still wondered what she had said. Every time his eyes met Heather's for the rest of the afternoon, she had this little smile on her face. He desperately hoped that his mother hadn't found it necessary to tell about his attempt to be Superman. That tale was his mother's favorite and she still had the towel that he had used as a cape and could point out the exact spot in the side yard where he had landed after leaping from his bedroom window.

 

Oh, God, he had to call and ask. Now.

 

His phone rang before he could reach for it and he saw Trace's cell number blinking on the display. Tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder he reached for the folder of the week's plans. "Hello."

 

"You're leaving soon, right?"

 

There was the crackle of radio transmissions in the background and Justin remembered that Trace was working the evening shift. "In a little while. Waiting on a parent and have to finish tomorrow's copies. Why?"

 

"When you get out can you take Jen a cherry Slurpee? She's got this major craving and I'm on the other side of the county working on something."

 

"Yeah, I guess…" Justin trailed, turning to start the copier. "How big?"

 

"The biggest one they've got. Oh, and those nasty nachos with extra cheese."

 

"Anything else?" Justin sighed, reaching for a slip of paper and a pencil.

 

"That was the list the last time she called. Might want to call her and ask, though. Don't call her till you get in the store."

 

"Right." Jen was the only pregnant woman Justin had ever known that had strange cravings. He had once thought it was an old wives' tale. Until Trace had made him stop off so he could pick up dill pickles, pistachio ice cream and sardines on the way home from fishing. "I'll take care of it."

 

"Appreciate it. Gotta go, Johnson needs me."

 

Justin let the phone slip into his lap as he scribbled the reminder before starting the copies of the math worksheet. As the copier groaned and the air conditioner kicked in he heard a soft tapping at the door. "Yeah?"

 

He looked up and saw Heather. She looked rushed and apologetic as she stepped into the classroom. "Sorry I'm so late," she began, but he waved it off.

 

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. He felt a tug when Donna dropped her crayon and rushed to greet her mother in a flurry of kisses and exclamations. The pink book bag was retrieved and crayons were put away as Heather signed the sign out sheet by the door. He tossed his phone onto the desk and walked over to pick up a crayon that had rolled to the floor.

 

"How was she?" Heather asked softly.

 

"I have to pee," Donna announced to no one in particular. Justin glanced to watch her hurry to the small bathroom in the back of the class before turning back to Heather.

 

"She was great. No tears or tantrums."

 

"She did her work? Did she eat all of her lunch?"

 

"And ice cream," Justin added with a smile.

 

"I didn't give her any ice cream money…"

 

"It was taken care of. Don't worry."

 

She eyed him for a moment. "I'll pay you back."

 

"Don't. Everyone had ice cream, it seemed only right. I didn't want her to feel left out. It was just sixty cents. Not like I bought her a Ferrari."

 

"Wait about twenty years for that," she requested with a resigned sigh. "Thank you."

 

"Anytime." He noted the band-aid in the crook of her elbow. "How'd the doctor's visit go?"

 

"Alright I suppose." A haunted look crossed her face but it was gone in an instant. "I hate doctors' offices."

 

"They're not my idea of a good time." Justin realized he was grinning again. He seemed to do a lot of that when they talked. Clearing his throat, he nodded to the bulletin board behind her. "We had art today."

 

She turned and he watched the concentration on her face as she scanned the drawings to find Donna's. He already knew without looking which paper belonged to which child. Zachary's drawing was done in green on yellow paper and even Zachary hadn't been able to tell what it was. Melody had drawn a disproportionate puppy, complete with bright purple collar. Donna's drawing puzzled him. It was several ominous black circles above two stick figures. She had softly told him it was her mother before a storm but hadn't said who the other stick figure was. All Justin knew was that it wasn't Donna or anyone in Cedar Grove.

 

"Oh," Heather breathed, one finger tracing the lopsided D of her daughter's name at the bottom of the paper. "I didn't know… She was… Oh."

 

Justin felt helpless when he saw tears shimmering in her eyes. "You okay?"

 

"Yeah," she whispered, blinking rapidly. Justin reached for the box of tissues on the shelf and held them out to her silently, chewing on the inside of his cheek when she took several and turned away to dap her eyes.

 

"We were talking about Daddies," he told her. He hadn't realized the conversation among the students would turn to fathers. All but Donna had told what their fathers did and when some had looked to her expectantly she had excused herself to the restroom. Knowing that it had to be a touch subject he had handed out blank paper for some quiet coloring time. When Donna had come back she had sat at her desk for several moments before starting to draw.

 

"Oh," was all Heather said.

 

The door to the restroom opened and Donna came out. Justin watched her lean onto her tiptoes and stretch to reach the light switch before she moved to wash her hands. Clearing his throat, he tucked the stray crayon into Donna's school box and pushed her chair under the desk.

 

"Mommy, can we go see Miss Ella?" Donna requested hopefully when she returned to her mother's side.

 

"Not today. I… There's some clothes at home that need to be put away." Heather slipped the book bag onto Donna's shoulders and Justin realized that she was avoiding his gaze.

 

"Oh." Donna adjusted her book bag and turned to Justin. "Are you coming for dinner?"

 

He saw Heather's horrified expression and shook his head sadly. "Not tonight. But we'll go to McDonald's this weekend." Where had that come from? He had plans with Heather Friday night and had been planning on going fishing with Paul and Trace Saturday. "If it's okay with your mother."

 

"We'll see," Heather murmured. "Tell Mr. Timberlake goodbye."

 

"Bye," Donna said with a smile. Justin patted her back when she hugged him tightly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 

"I'll be here." He glanced to Heather. She was suddenly very interested in the design of the carpet on the floor. "See you tomorrow."

 

"Tomorrow." She looked ready to say something else and finally raised her eyes to his. Tears still clung to the corners of her eyes and Justin was overcome with the desire to brush them away. To find out what had upset her so and try to make it better. But she gave him a faint smile and headed for the door. "Bye."

 

Shit, he thought when they were gone. He could hear Donna's voice excitedly relaying details of her day. He had hoped for some sort of invitation to call her later or at least a hint that she wanted him to.

 

What had he done?

 

- - -

 

"You brought up Donna's father."

 

Jen's voice was muffled considering she spoke around a mouthful of nachos and had her Slurpee straw between her lips. The dog next to her whined softly for a treat and she held a nacho dipped in cheese out for him. Justin, sprawled on the couch, waited for her to explain.

 

Jen wiped her fingers on a napkin and swirled her straw in the Slurpee. "I mean it's obviously a touchy subject. Even Lynn couldn't get her to say what happened to the guy. Nobody even knows if they were married or what. But I got the impression they were. Heather just doesn't seem the type to go sleeping around."

 

"So… I got the cold shoulder because my students brought up their fathers during circle time?" Justin questioned for clarification.

 

"Yep. Where are the Twizzlers?"

 

Justin sighed and reached for the bag he'd set on the floor. Handing over the candy he rolled his eyes at the ceiling when she cooed. "What do you think about the drawing?"

 

"If the other person in the drawing is her father, apparently she doesn't think much of him."

 

"Or he and Heather liked to go for walks before a storm." Justin raked a hand through his hair.

 

"Maybe he was a deadbeat. Who knows." Jen set her Slurpee down and a throw pillow landed on Justin's stomach. "Help me get up. I have to go pee."

 

"Isn't that little mutant you've got brewing ready to come out yet?" Justin teased playfully as he rolled off the couch. Standing in front of the armchair, he held out his hands.

 

"If I have nightmares about some hideous beast bursting out of me I'm going to kill you," she threatened, using his hands for leverage.

 

"Oh, come on. If you didn't kill Trace for telling you that the baby was going to come out fully grown and smoking a cigarette, nothing I say can make you madder." Justin held onto her hands until he knew she was steady. "Do you think I should call her?"

 

"I think you need to move before I piss on myself."

 

Justin sighed and stepped to the side. Once she had passed him he immediately followed her. "But should I? I mean, it was obvious she was upset. But I don't know if it's at me or at the picture or at something that I don't even know about."

 

Jen merely shrugged.

 

"What if she's waiting for me to call? What if she's sitting in her kitchen and keeps looking at the phone?"

 

"Then call her," Jen suggested. Justin thought he noted a bit of weary irritation in her voice.

 

"But what if she's not waiting? What if I call and she's in the middle of a rousing game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos and I interrupt it to tell her I'm sorry for something that wasn't my fault and she gets upset again--"

 

"Justin!" She whirled around, amazingly fast for someone as pregnant as she was, in his opinion, and pushed a hand against his chest.

 

"What?!"

 

"You can't follow me into the bathroom," she growled. Justin saw that he had stepped into the bathroom and backed up quickly before she slammed the door shut. "Now. Can I please take a whiz in peace?"

 

Justin threw up his hands in defeat and stared at the closed door for a brief moment. "Does that mean I should leave you alone and call her?"

"Just go call her! Tell her you're sorry if something you did indirectly upset her! But for God's sake do it away from me!"

 

"Touchy," he snorted. He turned on his heels and nearly tripped over her dog, who had come to wait patiently for Jen. "I’m just going to call her from the porch!"

 

"Whatever, have you left yet?"

 

"Next time Trace calls me to get you your weird-ass pregnant cravings I'm telling him no!" Justin threatened, pulling out his phone as he headed to the front door.

 

The bathroom door opened suddenly. "Since you're going out, do you mind running to McDonald's and getting me a McFlurry?"

Heather stared absently at the pot of soup as she stirred it. Donna's drawing kept popping up in her mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. She gritted her teeth and continued to stir the soup, wondering if the brew would ever start to boil. She had always promised herself that Donna never saw. She had assured her guilt-ridden conscience that nothing had ever reached her daughter's innocent ears. Apparently she had been wrong. She didn't kid herself into thinking that she knew how to interpret art, but she could remember the day Donna referred to in her drawing.

 

The storm. Thunder had rumbled for what had seemed hours before the sky broke. Lightning. Bright flashes of light that had shown rain slicing through the open windows.

 

The tears. The cold contempt. Unbelievable rage that had shaken her worse than any storm ever could.

 

The broken glass. The blood. A calm voice of the woman on the other end of the phone. The pain. The distant sound of sirens.

 

"Mommy? It's boiling."

 

Heather drew in a calming breath. She looked down and saw that the soup was indeed boiling. Turning the heat down to low she put a top on the pot and brushed her shaky hands down her apron. "It'll be ready in a few minutes. You go wash up and I'll set the table."

 

She had decided on an early dinner. Then she could hopefully settle Donna down and get her to sleep during a movie. After that, she looked forward to curling on the couch and having a good cry. She hadn't felt like crying since moving to Cedar Grove and now she felt like she was entitled.

 

It had been three days since she'd let a few tears slip in front of Justin. She felt the humiliation each time she brought Donna to school or picked her up. She saw the questions in his eyes each time he greeted her and hated herself for being such a basket case. Each night she waited for his phone call, only to turn off the ringer and tell her daughter that it was a telemarketer. She was grateful Donna couldn't read yet.

 

Donna kept up a running monologue during their dinner of soup and toasted cheese. Heather was able to simply nod and give a few one syllable responses occasionally and spent the majority of the meal picking at her soup. Over dessert - fruit cups and yogurt - Donna fiddled with her spoon and glanced at her mother worriedly.

 

"Mommy, didn't you like my drawing?"

 

Heather quickly swallowed the mouthful of fruit. "Of course I liked it."

 

"Why did you cry?"

 

"I didn't cry," Heather assured quickly.

 

"You had tissues. And your eyes were red. Like they used to be before."

 

"Before what?"

 

"Before we came here." Donna jabbed her spoon into the yogurt container.

 

"Donna…" Heather sighed and for the first time in months wished her mother was nearby. Close enough to call and ask to come over and help her with this conversation.

 

"I don't like it when you cry," Donna admitted.

 

"I don't like it either, sweetie." Hoping that her daughter wouldn't see her tears she reached over and pulled Donna into her lap.

 

"I won't draw it again, Mommy. I promise." Donna tucked her head under her mother's chin and leaned close. "They were talking about their Daddies and the boy beside me said he was going to draw a picture of his Daddy…"

 

"Was that a picture of Daddy?" Heather whispered, not bothering to hide her tears now. She already knew the answer.

 

"Yes."

 

"I'm so sorry, honey." Heather pressed several kisses to her daughter's blonde head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that and that Mommy couldn't keep it from happening. Just know that Mommy will never let it happen again."

 

"I know, Mommy. It's okay." Donna's voice was muffled against her neck and Heather was relieved that she wasn't crying.

 

"I love you so much."

 

"I love you too Mommy." Donna lifted her head and sweetly kissed her mother's cheeks. "No more cries."

 

"No more cries," Heather promised, smiling through her tears. "You want the rest of your yogurt?"

 

"No. After dishes can we watch Duchess and her kittens?"

 

"Tell you what. You go get the movie off the shelf and I'll just put the dishes in the sink to soak. They can wait till later."

 

Donna smiled and kissed her cheeks again. "No bath tonight?"

 

"You have school in the morning, squirt. Bath."

 

"Shoot," Donna sighed as she slid to the floor. "Okay, bath. But don't wash my hair!"

 

Heather chuckled at the authoritative tone in her daughter's voice and watched her skip from the room. If only her own pain could be assuaged so easily. Wiping the tears from her cheeks she cleared the table and was washing her hands when the phone rang.

 

She knew without looking that it was Justin. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew. His helpless expression that afternoon had made her want to cry. And the fact that he had come into the Eagle the night before and just sat there nursing a beer and not speaking to her had really hurt. She stared at the phone for a long moment and finally picked it up on the sixth ring.

 

"Are you okay?" he asked softly before she could offer any greeting.

 

"I… Yeah," she answered, keeping her tone low. Donna had already put the movie in; she could hear the previews from the DVD.

 

"I didn't know it would upset you."

 

"I'm sorry--"

 

"Please don't apologize to me." She heard a door shut in the background and wondered who he was keeping their conversation from.

 

"I just… It… It's a long story."

 

"I've got time," he offered.

 

She closed her eyes, longing to tell him everything. To just open up and let her old wounds flow. But she couldn't. Especially not over the phone. "Not now," she whispered.

 

"When?"

 

"I don't know… Donna wants to watch a movie with me and… I've got dishes."

 

"Can I call you later?"

 

Later. She should have known he wouldn't let up so easily. "Justin…"

 

"Please, Heather." He sighed. "Or you can call me…"

 

"Two hours," she murmured. That would give her enough time to finish the movie and get Donna ready for bed.

 

"I'll be waiting."

 

As she hung up, she drew in a deep breath. She really wished she had a drink.

 

- - -

 

Donna had fallen asleep halfway through the movie and, though she knew it would be difficult, Heather decided to postpone the bath until morning. She tucked her daughter in and whispered a soft prayer before slipping out of the room. She switched the TV off and put in a CD to play softly. The turquoise fleece blanket her mother had given Donna for Christmas was on the floor by the armchair and she picked it up, wrapping herself in its warmth as she settled in the corner of the couch.

 

Her glance moved to the phone.

 

She heard a gentle thump and was instantly moving to her daughter's room. A book that she hadn't known what was in the bed with her had fallen to the floor. Heather placed it on the shelf and smoothed the blanket over Donna's legs before returning to the couch.

 

Her glance moved to the phone again.

 

Twice more she went to look in on Donna. The last time she hovered in the doorway a good ten minutes, watching her sleep and wishing she could feel half as peaceful as her daughter looked. With another prayer she once more returned to the couch. This time she picked up the phone.

 

It hadn't been two hours yet. Somehow she had kept track of the time in the back of her mind.

 

She had fifteen minutes left. That was time to have a quick cry and clear her tears before she called him.

 

But she dialed his cell number anyway.

 

He answered on the first ring. "If you don't want to talk about it over the phone I can understand. But… I just… God, Heather, this is killing me. 'cause I know that something's wrong and want to try and fix it but I can't until I know what's going on and--"

 

"Justin. You can come over," she whispered.

 

"Good." She heard his murmured reply just as a truck door slammed shut outside. Her heart leapt into her throat and she lurched off the couch to see who was at her house. Worried images forced themselves into her mind and even as she pulled back the curtain she longed to go check on Donna.

 

All her worries washed away when she saw Justin ambling up the walk. She blinked to make sure it truly was him. "God he's such a persistent jackass," she mumbled, not realizing the phone was still to his ear until his head lifted and his looked at the window.

 

"Can't help it," he murmured.

 

Still holding onto the phone she went to open the door, watching him silently as he took the steps two at a time. She glanced at the bag he held before the strain in his blue eyes pulled her gaze upwards. Before the door had shut she was in his arms and she reveled in the warmth of his comforting embrace as his phone fell to their feet. His flannel shirt was soft beneath her cheek and she was aware of the steady beat of his heart as his lips brushed over her forehead.

 

"You can hang up, I'm here now," he whispered against her temple.

 

She nodded dumbly and tossed the phone to the floor. Not understanding why she was so glad he was with her and not caring why she wrapped her arms around him, the blanket binding his arms to her waist. "Why were you already on your way?"

 

"Because I couldn't wait the whole two hours," he whispered. "I'm just a persistent jackass."

 

She smiled against his shirt and squeezed him. He was there. He was holding her. He had been worried about her and had come to be with her. Those facts caused tears to well in her eyes and she let them fall when he kissed the top of her hair. "You want something to drink?"

 

"Sure." He jostled the bag in his hand. "I thought you could use this."

 

She pulled away and brushed the tears from her cheeks with the edge of the blanket. He held out the bag and she saw the top of a wine bottle. She pulled it from the bag and glanced at the label. "Thanks. Coming right up."

 

- - -

 

Justin watched her from the opposite end of the couch. She was still wrapped up in the bright turquoise blanket and never before had he felt so far away from someone who was in the same room. She hadn't said a word since returning with glasses and the wine and he noticed that she was on her second glass. It wasn't even a glass, it was a plastic cup that was blue with white snowmen dancing around the rim. The only sound in the room was the ticking of his watch.

 

Coming to see her had been an impulse. But he couldn't stand the waiting. He'd tried to eat but kept seeing her tears. He'd tried watching TV but even his favorite show hadn't been able to hold his attention. His rambling on the phone had been true. He was still worried. Worried that something had happened to her or Donna and that he had caused it. And he wanted to fix it but something told him it wasn't as simple as a leaky faucet or a loose shingle.

 

He'd just needed to be with her. He didn't care if she talked or not. He just wanted her to know that he was there if she needed to let it off her chest. And yeah, he was dying to know what had caused her to cry over a simple drawing but he could wait.

 

He heard three seconds tick by and turned to her. "Heather, what's wrong?"

 

She met his eyes for the first time since coming back from the kitchen. The air left his lungs when he saw pain and worry and sadness and it was all he could do to keep from reaching to pull her into his arms. He somehow knew that she would pull away. Or, worse, push him away.

 

"Donna's drawing."

 

"Two people in a storm," he murmured. "She told me that it was you but she didn't say who the other--"

 

"Her father," she whispered. She took a sip of wine. "The other person is her father."

 

"Okay." He had no idea what else he could say to that without sounding like a jackass.

 

"I didn't know she was watching. When it was all over with and I went to her she was hiding under her bed and I tried to hold her but she wouldn't let me touch her. She kept crying about me being hurt…" She took a deep breath and he watched as she slowly placed the blue snowman cup on the coffee table.

 

"What happened?" Justin asked softly. His only guess made him want to hunt down the bastard and give him a slow and painful death and he blinked at the sudden rage. Never before had he wanted to harm someone he didn't know. He only knew that he wanted to rid the world of anyone who had ever caused Heather or Donna any pain.

 

"I got a haircut."

 

"…A haircut?" Justin repeated. What on earth did a haircut have to do with--

 

"He didn't like it. Said he married me because I looked good next to him and all of a sudden I looked too butch." Heather's eyes closed and Justin bit his lip when she clenched the blanket closer. "It just escalated…"

 

He had started a fight over a haircut. A stupid fucking haircut. Justin decided the man must be completely psychotic. He saw her wipe the tears from her cheeks with the blanket. "Into what?" he whispered.

 

Somehow he knew that she wouldn't tell him. She didn't know him well and she couldn't be expected to just bare all. She shook her head slightly and he reached to cover her hand with his. Holding his breath he waited for her to pull away.

 

She didn't. Her hand was cold beneath his and he lightly rubbed his thumb over her fingers in an attempt to warm him.

 

Justin sucked in a breath and forced himself to remain calm as her voice broke into a sharp sob. He couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't care if she pushed him away. He moved closer and slowly put his arms around her. Her head fell against his shoulder and he closed his eyes, smoothing her hair back and holding her close.

 

"I had to get away," she whispered, shoulders shaking. "I couldn't stay there anymore. Not with him…"

 

Justin swallowed his disgust and rage at the man he'd never met and decided that death was too good for someone who could even think of hurting the woman in his arms. "Heather," he whispered, gently rubbing her back.

 

"Donna and I packed up and left the next day."

 

He wanted to ask what had happened that had caused her to leave. What the man had done to leave her so haunted. A million questions tumbled through his mind and he struggled to find one that wouldn't cause her to pull back. "How did you end up here?"

 

"We were on the road for a day or two," she murmured. "Stopped at this little dive joint on the highway and Donna was looking at the map. She saw this little dot and asked what the name of it was. I told her it was Cedar Grove." Justin released his breath when she laughed softly. "She has this little cedar chest that she keeps her treasures in and asked if it was the same thing. She was insistent that we come see all the cedar trees."

 

"And you came."

 

"I did." Her grip on the blanket loosened and hands that were no longer shaking rested on his chest. "We asked Miss Ella if there were any places in town for rent. She told us about this house and… I guess she could just tell what was going on. It was like she just knew that we couldn't afford much and she talked Mr. Parker for us. We moved in the next day."

 

"You brought furniture?" he asked. When he had been looking for his own place this house had been up for rent unfurnished.

 

"No… The house came furnished."

 

When Trace and Jen had been looking for a house right before Christmas last year the house had still been unfurnished. "Oh," he murmured. He smiled against her hair and wondered if she had any idea. He looked towards the hallway and sighed.

 

"You can go check on her," she whispered. "She's okay but you can check."

 

"You won't think I'm weird?"

 

"No. I've already checked three times since I put her to bed." Her hands slipped into his and they stood up. Without his asking she walked with him down the hall and they tiptoed to the bed.

 

Justin listened to the even breathing and felt Heather's hand squeeze his. When he had assured himself that she was truly okay he let Heather lead him back to the living room.

 

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she picked up the blue cup.

 

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," he promised.

 

"I didn't answer when you called. I wanted to but I just couldn't."

 

"You answered tonight."

 

"I had to." She managed a smile. "You were ringing the phone off the hook."

 

Okay, he'd been a persistent jackass. Trace had told him that he was crazy. Jen had told him to keep trying. His mother… Well, if she knew what was going on she would have told him that he was crazy and to keep trying. "I just wanted to know that you were okay."

 

"I'm not," she answered honestly.

 

"He won't find you here," Justin said vehemently. "Hell, people don't just show up in Cedar Grove unless they know it's here."

 

"I just want her to be safe."

 

"She is."

 

"How can you be so sure?"

 

"'Cause I'm a persistent jackass."

 

"You really are," she agreed and he was relieved that this time she slid her arms around him first. Her hands were no longer cold and this time she wrapped the blanket around him as well.

 

"Please tell me you saw my red shirt at some point," Heather pleaded as she flung clothes away from the heap on the chair near window. She was near frantic. He would be there soon and she had just gotten out of the shower. Great way to start a first date, she thought sourly. Pushing back her dripping hair she groaned when she reached the bottom of the pile and whirled around to face the woman in the doorway. "Well?"

 

"I had no clue you were digging him so much," Liz noted, smirking. She crossed the room, navigating the strewn clothes as though she were used to it. Reaching under the blue dress on the bed she pulled out the red top in question. "You just put it there a minute ago."

 

"Thank you," Heather breathed with relief. "And I'm not digging him."

 

"Please. I saw the way you two were looking at each other this afternoon. Good thing there were kids present."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Heather asked as she searched the clothing on the floor for her favorite jeans.

 

"He would have had you over that desk and naked in a minute--"

 

"Liz!" Heather shrieked. Mortified she rushed to the doorway and peered into Donna's room. Her daughter was giggling and playing cars with Zachary. Timmy watched with interest from the doorway, still too shy to join in.

 

"What? It's the truth." Liz grinned and leaned to grab a pair of jeans from the floor. "Are these the ones you're looking for?"

 

Heather all but snatched them from her hand. "Yes," she ground out. "And it is not true."

 

"Please." Liz waved her hand dismissively. "Where's he taking you tonight?"

 

"Antonio's." Heather eyed the clock and wanted to scream. She never should have stopped by the store. True, she had needed to buy something so that Donna could eat dinner and it would have been rude to ask Liz to make do with dry cereal considering she had two more children with her, but it had seriously cut into her preparation time. Liz, Zachary and Timmy had been waiting when they finally got home.

 

"Nice. Be sure and get supreme," Liz suggested as Heather headed into her small bathroom. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

 

"What now?" Heather looked down at the clothing in her arms. Jeans, top, bra--

 

"Panties?"

 

"I am seriously starting to regret having you watch Donna." She would blame Donna for that. Her daughter had loudly announced that Mr. Timberlake and her mother were going out to dinner and that her Mommy couldn't find a babysitter. Liz hadn't seemed surprised by the announcement but had offered to watch her. Heather had agreed after a moment's hesitation.

 

"Oh come on. I'm the cheapest babysitter in town."

 

"You're free," Heather reminded her, yanking the top drawer open.

 

"Exactly." Liz tossed a few clothes onto the bed and offered a wicked grin. "Bruce is leaving to go fishing for the weekend when he gets off and Carrie's at a friend's for the night. So if the two of you decide to have hot passionate sex tonight you can go to his house and I'll stay here."

 

"LIZ!" Heather shrieked in disbelief. Her cheeks were crimson and she grabbed the first pair of underwear from her drawer before ducking into the bathroom.

 

"I'm just saying!"

 

Heather rolled her eyes and shrugged out of her damp robe. She had hoped to take great care with her appearance for the date. As it was, she'd be lucky if she had time to dry her hair and slap on some lip-gloss after getting dressed. So much for looking hot, she decided with a sigh as she tugged on her panties.

 

She dressed as quickly as she could, cursing when her bra refused to hook. Just as she bent over and turned on the hair dryer she heard Liz announce that someone was at the door. After spending most of the afternoon at Justin's mother's house in the woman's company she was almost certain that Liz would say something that would cause embarrassment. She almost turned off the dryer to go answer the door on her own but heard Donna's excited voice. Liz wouldn't say anything too scandalous in front of the kids.

 

She hoped.

 

By the time she made it into the living room Justin was standing near the kitchen door. She immediately noticed that he was wearing a flannel shirt and her heart did that funny little tumble when he turned to look at her.

 

She had thought things would be strange after their talk the night before. She had thought it would make him keep himself at a distance and had worried that he would ask to cancel their date when she'd danced around his questions. Instead, he had held her close long into the night. For the first time in her life she had been perfectly content to snuggle close and just be with a man.

 

She had mentioned at one point that she liked his flannel shirt. And now he was wearing another one. She couldn't help the grin on her face.

 

"Hey," he greeted with a warm smile. She had to fight back the urge to throw her arms around him. "You look great."

 

The urge came back full force and she was grateful that Timmy was tugging at her jeans. She hefted him up onto her hip blew a raspberry against his cheek, her eyes still on Justin. "Thanks. So do you."

 

"Mommy. I want boots like Mr. Timberlake's. Please?" Donna tugged on Heather's jeans and looked up imploringly. "I'll be good. I wanna be a cowgirl!"

 

"We'll see, honey." Heather playfully tugged on Donna's pigtail and smiled when she rushed away, squealing. Timmy squealed as well and when he bounced excitedly Heather felt her stomach churn. "Liz… Your son…"

 

Liz appeared at the kitchen door and pointed a spoon at her son. "Did you stinky?"

 

"Uh-huh." Timmy grinned widely.

 

"You little monster." Liz scooped him into her arms and headed down the hall.

 

"Donna, come tell me bye," Heather called and was answered by the thundering sound of bare feet on the floor. Grunting when Donna flung herself into her arms, she swept her up into a big hug. "Be a good girl for Zachary's Mommy okay? Play nice and share. And don’t pick on Timmy."

 

"Yes, Mommy. You'll bring me some pizza?"

 

"We'll save you the biggest piece, toots," Justin promised, reaching over Heather's shoulder to playfully chuck Donna's chin with his fingers.

 

"Good. Have fun, Mommy." Donna smacked noisy kisses to her mother's cheeks and leaned over to give Justin a hug. "If Mommy's a good girl will she get a sticker?"

 

Heather sputtered. Though the question was innocuous and free of any suggestion, she felt her cheeks burn. "Donna…"

 

"I'll give Mommy a sticker," Justin assured her. Heather playfully dug her elbow in his ribs when he snickered. She did it to shut him up as well as make him move away.

She hated herself for loving the closeness of his body. It should be illegal for a man to render her breathless just by standing behind her.

 

She patted Donna's back and offered a final kiss before setting her on the floor. "Be a good girl," she reminded her as she headed back to her room.

 

"I will, Mommy. You too!"

 

Heather smiled at the way Donna shook her finger threateningly. Turning to Justin, she shrugged. "If I don't come home with a sticker I'll be grounded."

 

"Does that mean I'd have to throw rocks at your window to talk to you?" he teased.

 

"I could just sneak out…"

 

"Or let me sneak in…"

 

"Or remember that you're not alone in here and that I still have to eat dinner."

 

Heather groaned as her forehead bumped against Justin's. "Thank you, Liz."

 

"Have fun you two."

 

"My cell number is on the fridge--"

 

"With Justin's number. And Antonio's. I know." Liz shooed them towards the door.

 

Heather grabbed her purse and stopped in the doorway. "No sugar after seven."

 

"Eight," Liz countered.

 

"Seven thirty."

 

"Deal." Liz waved and grabbed hold of the doorknob. "Have fun. If you call me more than three times I'll think Justin is a lousy date."

 

"Hey!"

 

Heather laughed as she was pushed out onto the porch and the door shut firmly behind her. "I'm beginning to think she was trying to kick us out."

 

"Or she's just anxious to spoil Donna rotten."

 

Heather winced, hearing a sudden crash from within the house. "I better--"

 

"Zachary Scott! Get off that couch!"

 

Justin chuckled and caught her hand before she could open the door. "Liz has it under control. Come on. If somebody gets hurt she'll call."

 

- - -

 

"Should I worry that she hasn't called?" Heather asked.

 

Justin glanced up from his perusal of the menu and saw that she was fiddling with the band that secured the paper napkin around her silverware. She was worried, he could tell. And he could understand why. "I promise not to be insulted that you call to check on her if you promise to dance with me later."

 

He saw her eyes shift to what passed for the dance floor. Antonio's was more about food than ambience, and the cleared area for dancing was smaller than his utility room. She slid her gaze back to him and smiled. "I'll call while I go wash my hands."

 

"Anything but anchovies, right?"

 

"Not too many black olives, please."

 

He nodded; he personally couldn't stand them.

 

"Could you get me a salad too?" she requested as she slid out of the booth. "With French dressing?"

 

"Sure thing." He watched her hips sway as she headed to the restroom in the back, already punching numbers into her cell phone. He smiled and that tingle that had been buzzing within him since he first walked into her house vibrated.

 

She was dangerous. If things continued in the direction they were going he would start falling in love with her. And that scared him to death.

 

He wanted to love again. He wanted to know that there was someone he could lean on. Someone he could talk to. Someone he knew would be there when he just wanted company. Someone he could make love to until sunrise.

 

Heather didn't seem ready for all of that, though. Sure, she had opened up a little but he knew as sure as the day was long that she was still holding things back. And he didn't want to rush things and cause her to flee.

 

But he was scared shitless of going through that again. Yes, he was having a great time with Heather and he wanted to continue having a good time.

 

But falling in love? Buy a ring?

 

He felt a gnawing pain in his heart. Not again. Not yet.

 

For now he would just have fun. Get to know her. See how it went.

 

"Are you going to stare into space all night or do you plan on ordering?" a tired voice asked from nearby.

 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts Justin looked up and saw Christie Rae standing by the booth. A pad was in her hand and she tapped a pen against it. "Sorry," he mumbled before turning his attention back to the menu. "Two of the house salads. One with French and one with Ranch. And…" Justin trailed his finger over the list of pizza sizes. "Make it the mega. Supreme. No black olives."

 

"And no anchovies. Damn, Justin, you always get the same kind." Christie snapped gum in her mouth. "Drink?"

 

"Whatever wine Tony's pushing this week." He slapped the menu closed and reached for Heathers to hand them over. "Better bring two sodas too."

 

"Gotcha." Christie's gum snapped loudly as she headed away.

 

Lightly drumming his hands against the table Justin glanced around the restaurant and nodded his head in acknowledgement when he saw people that he knew. Only a few tables were occupied and he was grateful; he hated the idea of trying to get to know Heather in a packed, noisy place.

 

By the time she returned their drinks had been served and someone had started the jukebox. She slid into the booth with a smile and pushed her phone back into her purse.

 

"Everything alright on the home front?" he questioned with a smile as he dropped his hands onto his lap.

 

"Donna is having a tea party with Timmy and Zachary. Somehow she talked Timmy into wearing one of her floppy hats." She smiled again and reached to pour wine into her glass. "They'll be eating soon."

 

"I didn't know if you wanted wine or…"

 

"Wine is good." Her smile was still in place as she raised her glass. "Not to sound cliché, but do you come here a lot?"

 

"Not as much as I'd like. It's not fun if you're by yourself," he admitted. "Sometimes I tag along with Trace and Jen when they come but she hasn't gotten out much lately."

 

"How is she?"

 

"When I talked to Trace earlier he said that if the baby doesn't come on its own by next week he's going to move in with his mother."

 

Heather laughed. "She can't be that bad."

 

"She's one of my best friends and I love her to death but she is a miserable pregnant woman," Justin told her.

 

"Hormones are a horrible thing, Justin."

 

He reached for his wine and his gaze flickered to the way her hands cupped around her glass. "How were you when you were pregnant with Donna?"

 

She didn't answer right away and he wondered if he'd brought up a bad memory. But she smiled wistfully and settled back into the red leather cushion of the booth. "It was the most peaceful nine months of my life. I loved every minute of it."

 

"Really?"

 

"Mom was staying with us because her roof caved in after a storm and… It was good for me." She met his eyes. "I had morning sickness, sure, but I don't know. Every little thing that changed because of the life inside me just made me smile."

 

"No mood swings?" He couldn't really picture her turning from a smiling, genteel woman into the screaming banshee that Jen often became.

 

"Oh God yes. I remember crying because the mail was late." She rolled her eyes when he chuckled. "Sure, laugh. I was devastated."

 

"I think it's cute. Did you stand at the mailbox sobbing or cry into a pillow?"

 

"If you must know I sat in my car at the end of the driveway sniveling until the mail truck came. And then when I got out he said that he was late because it had been raining and I just went off." She shrugged. "I reminded him of that old slogan and insisted that my mail be on time from then on."

 

"And what happened?"

 

"He was there on time or earlier. Even though I apologized and told him I hadn't meant it." She smiled at the memory. "Fun times."

 

"Here you go," Christie announced. Heather leaned back just in time to avoid being smacked on the head by the pizza platter. Justin scowled slightly when the waitress blatantly checked Heather out.

 

"Thanks," he told her. "What about our salads?"

 

"Shit." Christie turned on her heel and stalked back to the kitchen.

 

Justin offered Heather an apologetic smile. "The food is better than the service."

 

"No big deal. The pizza's too hot to eat anyway."

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she was going to blow on it to cool it off for him but he took a sip of his wine instead.

 

"Did you go to school with her? The waitress?"

 

"Christie? Yeah. She was different then." Justin sighed and wondered how he could turn the conversation to a different topic. "Trace went out with her a few times."

 

"You're kidding," Heather breathed in surprise. "I thought he and Jen had been together forever."

 

"Oh, no. She dated me some in high school."

 

"Really?"

 

Uh-oh. He'd heard that interested tone before in women. "Yeah… It wasn't anything serious though. Just to the prom and a few games."

 

"I never went to a prom."

 

"Then you didn't miss much. Standing around drinking punch that wasn't very good while your date spends the night giggling with her friends. But it wasn't like we were really interested in each other," he attempted to explain. "We were just friends."

 

"I'm not jealous of her, Justin," Heather murmured suddenly. He met her eyes and saw her soft smile.

 

"Good, 'cause there's nothing to be jealous of--"

 

"Two salads," Christie announced loudly. Justin winced as she unceremoniously slapped two plates of salad down in front of them. "Anything else?"

 

"I'm great, thanks," Heather answered.

 

"Enjoy," Christie sighed before sauntering away.

 

"Doesn't she just ooze Southern charm," Heather muttered before taking another sip of her wine.

 

Justin smirked and reached for his silverware. He had gotten out his fork and was wondering what had happened to his napkin when his cell phone began to ring. "Damnit," he grunted. He'd thought he'd turned it to vibrate. Snatching the phone from his belt he saw Trace's number. Silencing the call he set the phone aside and once more reached for his fork.

 

"You can answer it," Heather told him.

 

"Nah. It's just Trace. I can call him later." The phone beeped an alert that he had a text message and he groaned. "He's such a jackass, I swear…" He knew that Heather was chuckling and offered a chagrined expression while opening his phone to read the message. The text was only a bunch of gibberish.

If Trace was trying to ruin his date… Justin sighed and looked to Heather. "You don't mind if I call him?"

 

"Of course not."

 

Before Justin could dial the number his phone rang again. Seeing Trace's number once more he answered the call. "What's up?"

 

"OH MY GOD!" Trace shouted above the sound of his siren.

 

"...Huh?" Justin finally found his fork and took a bite of his salad. "What's going on?"

 

"I CAN'T - SHE'S - I'M WAY OUT AT THE CREEK AND CAN'T GET THERE!"

 

"Get where?" Justin questioned worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

 

"YES!"

 

Justin winced when a blaring horn sounded and fought back a cackle at his friend's next words.

 

"SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS, MOTHERFUCKER! I AM THE LAW!"

 

"Trace, man, chill--"

 

"BYE!"

 

Justin stared down at his phone for a moment after the call ended. He'd never heard Trace so excited about anything. "What the fuck…"

 

"Is something wrong?" Heather asked softly.

 

"I have no clue." Justin shook his hand and set his phone aside. "He was just yelling his head off. Apparently he's out at the creek and can't get somewhere."

 

"Do you think he called the wrong number?"

 

Justin could only hope. "If it's important he'll call back when he can focus," he promised. "Ready to taste the best pizza in Cedar Grove?"

 

"Justin, it's the only pizza in Cedar Grove," she reminded him, rolling her eyes. But she pushed her salad aside and nodded.

 

"That's why it's the best," he explained. He had placed a slice on her plate and was getting his own when his phone began to ring. He saw it was Trace and ignored the call. "Fucking… If I didn't know better I'd think he's trying to sabotage our date."

 

"Would he do that?"

 

"He did once. All because I walked in to borrow a t-shirt just when he was putting the moves on Jen."

 

"You didn't." Heather held a hand over her mouth and he couldn't tell if it was in mortification or to hide a smile.

 

"I totally did. But I didn't even know she was there. This was back in college, when they first started going out. I just barged in and he was telling her that he'd pull out 'cause he didn't have a condom."

 

"Oh. My. God." Heather dissolved into laughter and Justin felt his cheeks burn.

 

If there was anything remotely close to walking in on parents having sex, walking in on your best friend was it. He leaned back in the booth and watched her try to compose herself. When her laughter slowed into an occasional giggle, he grinned. "Jen just looked over at me and asked if I had a condom he could use."

 

"Justin!" she screeched, throwing her napkin at him.

 

"Well she did!" he retorted, sending the napkin her way. He was aware of other customers glancing their way but didn't care. This was priceless. "But Trace didn't want it. Said he couldn't be expected to perform with an audience." He wet his lips and shrugged. "I offered to do it for him but he didn't like that idea."

 

Heather's eyes widened. "Justin! You did not!"

 

"Okay, I didn't," he relented. "I was too damn shocked to say anything."

 

"I would be too… God," she muttered before starting to giggle once more.

 

Nothing, he decided, could ruin this moment.

 

Except his damn phone, which had started to ring again. As he picked it up to silence it Heather covered her mouth with her napkin. His eyebrows rose when he saw that this time it was Jen calling. Knowing that it would take a moment for Heather to finish laughing, he answered. "Yeah?"

 

"The baby's coming," she said in a tight voice.

 

"What? Now?"

 

"Yes, now," she groaned. "My water broke in the kitchen."

 

"Just don't step on it and Trace'll clean it up when he gets home," Justin suggested in confusion.

 

"Justin." Her voice was edged with panic. "My water broke. There is a large puddle of amniotic fluid in my kitchen--"

 

"Shit…"

 

Heather had stopped laughing and was looking at him worriedly. He saw the question in her eyes.

 

"She's in labor," he said. "Is Trace on the way home?" he asked Jen.

 

"Yes, but he's at the creek. Mom's coming to take me to the hospital." Her voice was still tight with pain. "But she lives fifteen minutes away and had to get dressed."

 

Heather was waving to Christie as though she already knew what he was going to ask her.

 

"We'll come by and take you to the hospital," he told Jen.

 

"Justin, I'm scared…"

 

"Here, talk to Heather while I pay the bill." He held the phone out to Heather. "Can you keep her calm?"

 

She nodded and tucked the phone next to her ear. "Jen?"

 

"What's the problem?" Christie asked with complete disinterest.

 

"We have to go. Can I get the check?" Justin was already sliding out of the booth. He reached for his wallet and heard Heather's soft voice assuring Jen that everything would be okay.

 

"Damn, Justin--"

 

"Here," he grumbled, shoving some cash into her hands. "If that's not enough tell Tony I'll be back later."

 

"You gonna take the pizza with you?" Christie asked, glaring at Heather when she slipped past.

 

"Just box it up; we'll pick it up later." Justin looked at Heather and she nodded. "Sorry, Christie. It's an emergency."

 

"Whatever."

 

"How is she?" he whispered, holding onto Heather's elbow as they left.

 

"She set the phone down so she could get some towels. She's only scared that Trace won't make it to the hospital in time."

 

"Somebody needs to call him and tell him not to go to the house--" Justin halted when she pushed her phone into his hands.

 

"I don't want to hang up with Jen. Not right now."

 

He nodded in understanding and hurriedly dialed Trace's cell phone.

 

- - -

 

"I didn't bother with Lamaze," Jen babbled as Justin helped her up from the couch. "I knew that I wanted an epidural and don't know the first thing about how to breathe for this."

 

Justin looked over at Heather helplessly. She nodded. It was obvious he had no idea what to do. Stepping over she transferred the packed bag, purse and pillow that Jen wanted to take to the hospital into his hands. "I put a couple blankets in the back of her car. You want to turn it around while I help her outside?"

 

"Thank you," he whispered. Heather bit back a giggle at the hurried steps he took to leave the living room.

 

"If you feel a contraction, stop walking," she told Jen softly. "Hold my hand and focus on the way I breathe, okay?"

 

"Okay." Jen kept one hand over her swollen belly and bit her lip. "If he doesn't make it I'll never forgive him."

 

"He'll be there," Heather promised. She held out her hand for Jen to take. "Come on. Walk slowly and don't let go of my hand."

 

Jen nodded and together they began a slow trek towards the door. She had been in the middle of a contraction when Heather left to put blankets in the car and secure Jen's dog in his crate in the kitchen. She twisted the watch on her wrist so she could keep track of time.

 

God, she hoped she wouldn't have to help deliver a baby in the back seat of a car.

 

"Heather," Jen whined suddenly, steps faltering. Her hand clenched Heather's tightly.

 

"Don't focus on the pain," Heather instructed softly. "Breathe with me."

 

Three minutes. Just three minutes. Donna had come into the world almost immediately once Heather's contractions had reached three minutes apart. She forced herself to remember that all babies took their own time being born and that no two labors were the same.

 

"That was worse than the others," Jen whispered a moment later. Beads of perspiration had broken out on her forehead and Heather gently wiped them away with a tissue.

 

"Is the breathing helping?"

 

"A little." Jen wet her lips and took a hesitant step forward.

 

"We'll make it," Heather promised.

 

"The doctor wants to know how far apart the contractions are," Justin announced as he met them at the door. He had his cell phone to his ear and Heather would have been amused at his anxiousness had she not been nervous as well.

 

"Three minutes."

 

Justin relayed the information through the phone and Heather saw his face pale considerably. "Yes sir, we're on the way. Just getting into the car now… What? You want me to go slow?!"

 

"Justin," Jen admonished, making a face at his whine.

 

"Sorry." He took her other arm and nodded to whatever the doctor was saying. "I understand. But do you understand that I have no clue what to do if the baby decides he or she wants to come out while I'm just moseying through town?"

 

Heather bit back a smile when his eyes widened.

 

"I don't know nothing about delivering babies!"

 

"Now I know how Melanie Wilkes felt," Jen whispered. Heather nodded in agreement and was glad that the other woman was no longer panicking.

 

"Fine, I'll call if that happens." Justin slapped his phone shut against his thigh and looked at Heather with extreme horror. "Do you know what crowning is?"

 

"That's when the head is visible," she answered automatically, holding on tightly as Jen took the steps one-by-one.

 

"Visible from where?"

 

"If you have to ask, you really don't want to know. That means that the baby won't be waiting around much longer."

 

"Oh, God."

 

"You've never landed on one of those birthing shows while you were channel surfing?"

 

"Hell no. I learned enough about it when I took Sex Ed."

 

"Because that was really telling it like it is," Heather muttered. "Trust me, Justin."

 

"I do. You’ve been through this before. The closest I've been is watching Momma's cat have kittens."

 

"So now I'm just some fat lazy cat?"

 

"I think I should just get in the driver's seat and shut the hell up," Justin decided with defeat in his voice.

 

"Might be a good idea."

 

- - -

 

Heather hugged herself as she stood in the small waiting area near the delivery room. Jen had been taken back immediately and she could still hear her cries of indignation when she'd been informed that there was no time for an epidural. Smiling slightly, she glanced out the window.

 

Trace's patrol car was still parked haphazardly at the entrance. The blue lights still flashed and the driver's door was hanging open. But there was another deputy nearby talking to the young man who had been misfortunate enough to have been in the back seat when Trace got the call that his wife was in labor.

 

She had been waiting at the entrance to tell Trace which way to go when he'd pulled up. Tires squealing and sirens wailing he had barely acknowledged her, only telling her which switch turned the sirens off. She had rushed after him to tell him where Jen was before going back outside.

 

The panels of buttons had been labeled. After the deafening sirens had ceased she had heard the sounds of someone throwing up in the back seat.

 

A kid, barely eighteen, had raised his head long enough to swear he would never have another drink as long as he lived before passing out.

 

Now she shook her head in amusement. She could only imagine how badly Trace's driving had scared him. Turning she saw Jen's mother at the coffee pot. Justin stood nearby, hands in his pockets. When he saw her looking at him he headed over and dropped his chin onto her shoulder.

 

"As first dates go, is this the worst you've ever had?" he asked softly.

 

"No," she promised. "I'm too excited to care that our dinner was interrupted and that my purse is still in your truck at Jen's house. A new life is about to enter the world."

 

"It is pretty amazing isn't it?"

 

She nodded and sighed when his arms wrapped around her from behind. "I wonder if it was this nerve-racking when I had Donna."

 

"Probably. I mean, you see it in movies and hear about babies being born every day, but it's different when it's someone close to you."

 

"I know… I'm not even close to Trace and Jen and I can't wait to see the baby."

 

"I think now that you've shined a flashlight between Jen's legs you'll be good friends."

 

"That is so gross," she muttered. She looked out the window and saw that the blue lights had finally been turned off. Someone was driving Trace's patrol car away from the entrance.

 

"You don't mind staying until the baby's born?" he asked suddenly.

 

"I want to stay if it's alright with you." She turned to face him. "Is it?"

 

"Yeah it is." He smiled. "We can pick up the pizza and heat it up at my house. And instead of a movie in Fairview you can pick something out of my DVD collection."

 

"Can't wait," she murmured. Her arms wound around his waist and she breathed in his scent, hoping it would rid her senses of the hospital smell.

 

"Let's go for a walk," he suggested. "Go down and get a drink from the machine or something."

 

"Okay." When she was no longer in his arms the smell of the hospital permeated her senses again and she shook herself. She was here for a good thing.

 

"You cold?"

 

"Just a little chill," she answered. "Air conditioner must be set too cold."

 

"Yeah." His hand found hers and he paused to tell Jen's mother that they were going down to the drink machines. She nodded and said that her husband would be there shortly.

 

The corridor seemed oddly quiet and still as they walked along. Heather kept her gaze on the floor and assured the dread in her stomach that this was the baby floor. Only new mothers and newborn babies and excited fathers would be there. Justin's hand squeezed hers as they passed a nurse pushing a swaddled bundle into a room and she was grateful he was with her.

 

As they neared the vending area she saw a doctor come from a room, head bent to the nurse at his side.

 

"…I think it's a case of abuse. The bruises on her abdomen did not come from falling out of a chair…"

 

Heather felt her palms begin to sweat and her entire body suddenly shook at the memories flooding her mind. She released Justin's hand and pressed her fingers to her eyes. "No…"

 

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. His hands were gentle on her upper arms and it took all her strength to keep from shoving him away.

 

"I just really don't like hospitals," she whispered shakily. One hand left her and she heard the metallic clink of coins. Seconds later a cold can was pressed against her palm.

 

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered. Her arm felt limp when his hand covered hers and she let him pull her arm down. His blue eyes were dark with apprehension and she saw the unasked questions.

 

She fumbled with the tab on the soda can and when it popped open she took a hasty gulp. It was so cold it numbed her fingers. Her head hurt from the suddenness of the chill. Lowering the can she pressed her fingers to her lips and looked away.

 

"Come on," he murmured. He took the can and his arm slipped around her waist to keep her close. She waited for the questions.

 

And was glad when they didn't come.

 

- - -

 

"My little girl," Trace crooned as he stared down at the pink bundle in his arms. "Look at her, man. She's the most beautiful baby in the world."

 

Justin grinned at the overwhelming cheesiness of the moment. Standing next to Trace, he leaned his head to one side to look down at the sleeping baby. "She is cute," he assured his friend, gently clapping him on the shoulder before glancing to the bed. Jen slept peacefully. Heather sat in the chair near the bed, flipping through a magazine. Every once in a while she would look at the baby and each time he saw the anxiety slowly fade from her eyes. "Did you two pick out a name?"

 

He and Heather had stayed in the waiting area while Jen's mother and father and then Trace's parents had gone in to visit their new granddaughter. Heather had suggested that they give the grandparents the time alone before barging in to see the new addition. She had been right, of course, but Justin had been antsy to see the baby. His best friend was now a father. It both amazed him and freaked him out at the same time.

 

"Ellie Mae," Trace answered.

 

Justin blinked. "Tell me you're joking."

 

"Ellie Mae Ayala," Trace recited. "Don't give me that look. We named her after our grandmothers."

 

"You named her after the girl in The Beverly Hillbillies," Justin corrected, still astounded.

 

"No. After our grandmothers." Trace's foot bumped against Justin's ankle. "Jerk."

 

"You are seriously going to peg that sweet little girl with the most redneck damn name?"

 

"Would you shut up? And no cussing around the baby," Trace insisted, hugging his daughter close.

 

"Please. After living with you two her first word is going to be 'fuck' I guarantee."

 

"You can be such an asshole."

 

"See?"

 

"Heather? Did you want to hold her?" Trace offered suddenly. "Since you almost delivered her in the car and all…"

 

"I'd love to."

 

Justin stepped to the side and shared a smile with Heather as she crossed to the rocking chair in the corner. She had been quiet since entering the room, only asking that Jen was alright and that the baby was healthy. He knew she hated hospitals but he had never seen anyone so antsy that they jumped each time a nurse passed by.

 

Trace looked confused when she stood in front of him. "Uh…"

 

"You'll get the hang of it." Heather leaned down and carefully scooped the baby from his arms. One hand supported her head and the other her backside, feet against her chest. Almost immediately she hummed softly and Justin saw that the remaining unease swept away.

 

Trace moved out of the rocking chair and he pushed Justin aside so he could reach the camera on the windowsill.

 

"You're a big one, aren't you?" Heather murmured at the baby as she settled into the rocker. Justin envied the ease with which she cradled the newborn in her lap. "Donna was a little bitty thing…"

 

Moving to her side Justin looked down at the infant. The pink cap on her head had slid up, revealing a head covered in fine black hair. Heather's fingers gently smoothed the cap back into place and when her fingers brushed over the baby's cheek a pair of small eyes opened.

 

"There you are," she cooed. "Mommy and Daddy are going to ask me if I think you're cute and I couldn't tell them the truth until I saw your eyes." She smiled and the baby's mouth opened in a small yawn. "Yeah, being born is tough work, isn't it? And people are going to expect you to be awake when they come see you. It's okay, I won't brag that you woke up to see me."

 

Justin grinned again and thought that cheesiness was underrated. He blinked when a sudden flash went off and glanced up to see Trace snapping pictures. "Dude, warn somebody…"

 

"I had to get a picture of Heather holding her."

 

"Better get used to Daddy taking your picture," Heather told the baby. Another small yawn. "Yeah, Daddy's are boring like that. If you get tired of it you make a stinky and he'll leave you alone for a while. Daddy's and stinky diapers don't mix."

 

Justin chuckled and dropped down to get a better look at the baby. "She's a beautiful little girl, Trace."

 

"Told you so."

 

"Must take after her mother," Justin decided with a sly grin. "Let's just hope she doesn't look like you when she grows up."

 

"You're not funny."

 

"See how men bicker? Can't just be quiet and enjoy the perfection of a newborn baby. No, they have to poke fun and irritate each other. Let's just hope they don't wake Mommy up."

 

Justin sighed and looked to Trace. "Sorry."

 

"It's okay. You're just an asshole."

 

"I--" Justin felt an elbow against his arm and glanced at Heather. She nodded to the baby and he knew what she was up to. She was going to ask if he wanted to hold the baby. She wouldn't insist but her eyes would get all big and hopeful and say that he had to. Oh, man. He'd gotten through this many years without holding a baby and he wasn't about to…

Ellie Mae yawned, lips smacking and eyes closing as she released a completely satisfied sigh. Her face showed immense relaxation and he thought he saw a lopsided smile on the small face.

 

Justin's heart melted. "Come on, Heather, let me hold her."

 

When he was in the rocking chair and his inexperienced arms were holding the baby close to his chest, he felt a strange giddiness when her head shifted in the crook of his arms. After a moment he was sure he wouldn't drop her and dared to touch the smooth cheeks. He could only stare at her, wondering how it was that such a small, helpless thing could render grown men speechless.

 

Then her eyes opened and he fell in love.

Justin peered into the oven to check the progress of the warming pizza and gently closed the door. Heather smiled at him from her spot on the counter, where she scrolled through the photos of Ellie Mae she had taken with her phone. From the kitchen she could hear the country music he had turned on when they'd arrived and she held her phone out so he could see the photo she liked the best. "If it wouldn't make Donna jealous I'd set that as my wallpaper."

 

She moistened her lips as his warm hand covered hers to hold the phone still. He chuckled and shook his head. "I can't believe you got a picture of me kissing the baby."

 

"Come on, it's cute." She closed the photo and set her phone next to her on the counter. "Once it gets around town that you turn all mushy when holding a baby you'll have women lined up to date you."

 

That thought didn't appeal to her.

 

Apparently he didn't like it either. "I don't want women lining up to date me."

 

"Why?" She knew she was flirting and teasing but the look in his eyes was more than worth it. It had been so long since she'd last flirted and she marveled at how easy it was with him.

 

"Because I'm already dating one woman. And I'm a one-woman guy," he confided.

 

Her heart fluttered excitedly and she quickly chastised her inner teenager. "An interrupted dinner and a trip to the hospital constitute dating?"

 

"Well, yeah." His tongue flickered over his lips. "And you already agreed to going out to McDonald's tomorrow."

 

His hands were on her knees. "That's not a date."

 

"It will be after Donna goes to sleep," he whispered.

 

When had he gotten so close? How had she missed the darkening of his eyes? She felt her lips spread into a smile at his suggestion. "I still have the rest of the wine from last night."

 

"Do you have to get drunk to spend time with me?" His fingers swept over her thighs slowly and she felt her stomach churn with wanting. She firmly ordered her knees to remain pressed together.

 

"I wasn't drunk last weekend," she whispered. Her traitorous knees parted when he stepped closer and then his breath was on her cheek, his hands on her hips. She heard the soft whisper of her jeans against his and her mouth went dry.

 

"I know."

 

"I don't normally do that," she blurted. Her bare feet dangled near his knees but when one hand slid down her thigh to rest at the bend of her knee she rested her foot against the back of his leg.

 

"Don't normally do what?"

 

God, she wished he'd kiss her. Each time he spoke he seemed to move closer and there couldn't be but so much space between their lips now. "Make out on a first date," she murmured, lifting her chin expectantly.

 

"That wasn't making out," he disagreed.

 

"It wasn't?"

 

"Nope." Justin brushed his lips over hers and pulled away just as the buzzer went off.

 

"Then what was it?"

 

He shrugged and she blatantly watched as he bent to remove the pizza. Her teeth worried her bottom lip and she blushed when he turned to look at her. Sliding off the counter she motioned limply towards the fridge.

 

"Beers?" she suggested, hating how her voice raised an octave.

"Sure."

 

She was leaning into the fridge and had completely forgotten the topic of their earlier conversation when he cleared his throat.

 

"It's not making out unless someone's hand is other the other person's clothing," he announced.

 

Heather jerked in surprise and banged her head against the bottom of the freezer door. The beers fell to the floor and one hand immediately went to cover the spot and she backed away blindly, clenching her eyes shut to ward away the sudden sting of tears. She could feel a knot beginning to form under her hand and suddenly a string of curses came bubbling from her lips. "Fucking ass of a damn shitty stupid motherfucking goddamn--"

 

"Whoa," Justin breathed, hands catching her by the waist. He guided her to a chair and she sank down gratefully, trembling at the pain. She risked opening her eyes and was taken aback to find him kneeling in front of her. His eyes were wide with worry and she blinked several times when he tilted her head down to survey the damage. His fingers were gentle against her scalp. They brushed the knot and she winced and felt his whispered apology ruffle the hair at the crown of her head. "I'll get you an icepack."

 

"I don't need…" she trailed into a sigh. He was already on his feet and heading for the fridge. She watched him pick up the bottles of beer and set them on the counter before opening the freezer. Ice rattled against plastic and she let her eyes close as he moved around the kitchen.

 

When he returned she felt his hand rest on her thigh and opened one eye to look at it. She realized that for the first time in as long as she could remember she was truly comfortable in a man's presence. There were no worries of what he would think or say if she did something stupid. No tension that she would say the wrong thing and cause an argument. Despite cracking her head and cursing like a sailor there was no embarrassment. Nothing but comfort and that scared her more than anything.

 

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked softly when the ice pack was laying against her head. He was holding it and her hands felt useless in her lap.

 

"What was I supposed to do? Laugh and tell you to bring me my beer?"

 

"Most men I know would," she mumbled. It was a stupid answer and a generalization of all men but it was true.

 

"Then you know the wrong men." He shrugged and his hand covered hers.

 

She sighed, closing her eyes when he leaned close. He squeezed her hands and she finally opened her eyes as his forehead bumped hers. His expression was serious and she noticed for the first time that there was a faint scar just below his eye. She wondered how she had never noticed it before but saw that it was barely visible even from this distance.

 

"I'm not him, Heather."

 

"I-I know," she whispered. Otherwise she would have run away long before now.

 

His hand left hers and she held her breath, finally allowing it to rush out when his fingers lightly brushed her hair back.

 

"Do you?" he murmured after a moment.

 

- - -

 

"Why are you home so early?"

 

Heather winced at the accusatory tone in Liz's voice and sidled away so she could set her purse down. "Did you expect me to stay out all night?"

 

Liz's snort was more than enough of an answer. Heather glanced around and saw that Timmy was fast asleep on a pallet of blankets in the floor. Zachary snoozed peacefully on the loveseat. She headed down the hall and peered into Donna's room. The children - or Liz - had obviously picked up because nothing was on the floor but a couple of stuffed animals. Aware that Liz was standing nearby she slipped into the room and went through her usual nighttime routine, tucking the blanket securely around her daughter and making sure that Toots the purple bunny was in his place. She whispered her prayer and pressed a soft kiss to Donna's cheek before going back to the living room.

 

"So, why are you home so early?" Liz asked again as she flopped onto the couch.

 

Heather drew a throw pillow into her lap and sighed. "Trace's wife had the baby tonight."

 

"Awe… Girl or boy?"

 

"Girl." Heather smiled slightly. "Ellie Mae."

 

"Jen does love some Beverly Hillbillies," Liz noted as she settled at the other end of the couch. "How was dinner?"

 

"Interrupted by the birth of Ellie Mae." Heather briefly explained what happened, noting her fear that the baby would come in the backseat of the car and ending with eating warmed-up pizza in Justin's living room.

 

"And he just brought you home?"

 

"Yeah." Heather hugged the pillow and smiled when she smelled Justin's light cologne against her shirt. She glanced slyly at Liz. "You look disappointed."

 

"I guess I was hoping to hear tales of wild sex in the back of his truck on the way over--"

 

"Liz!" Heather hissed.

 

"What? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

 

"That doesn't mean I… I'm not getting into this conversation." Heather looked to the phone. "Did anyone call?"

 

"Not since you called to check on the kids earlier."

 

"Did you have any trouble getting Donna down?"

 

"Lord no. The girl conked out in the middle of Bee Movie."

 

"Was she good?"

 

"As gold."

 

Heather nodded and watched as Liz got up and began gathering her things. "Liz?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You don't have to go home… It's late and the kids are asleep and I don't want you to have to wake them up and then…" Heather sighed again. "What do you say to some wine and whatever's on TV?"

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"I don't want to be alone tonight…"

 

"I'll get the wine," Liz provided softly.

 

- - -

 

The wine was gone and Heather was morbidly fascinated with Liz's explanation of the true-crime show that was on. Her head felt fuzzy and too heavy to hold up so she kept it propped on the armrest, lips curling in disgust. "He actually peeled the skin off?"

 

Liz nodded. "He made a bodysuit for himself. He said he wanted to become his mother."

 

Heather shuddered at the notion and glanced back at the TV. "That is so gross…"

 

"Didn't you ever watch Silence of the Lambs?"

 

"Are you kidding? I had to leave the room halfway through Psycho."

 

"That was based on this guy," Liz announced.

 

"God, change it or I'll have nightmares," Heather groaned. She pulled the pillow over her face and kept it there until she heard the canned laughter of a sitcom. "Golden Girls?"

 

"I think it's the pilot one…"

 

Heather allowed the pillow to fall away and she and Liz sat in silence until a commercial break. Then, sitting up suddenly, she eyed her new friend with horror. "What did he do with his bits and pieces when he was wearing the bodysuit?!"

 

Liz smothered a laugh with her hands, shaking her head as she gathered the empty bottle and glasses. "I think it's time we had some coffee."

 

"May as well, it's almost time to get up." It was getting close to seven. Heather settled back on the couch and tried to focus when the show came back on. Instead, her thoughts meandered back to the moments of idle conversation on Justin's sofa.

 

His tender kisses. Just remembering them made her shiver and if she closed her eyes she could still feel his lips against her skin. And when she pulled the pillow into her arms she felt his arms around her. Heard his soft voice.

 

"I want to take things slow."

 

Slow. She knew he was right; had wanted to voice her inclination to do the same. But it seemed so hypocritical when he said that and then held her close for long moments, stealing her breath with more kisses. Her mind had screamed at her to pull away even as her body had begged for more and it had taken all her willpower to stop herself.

 

She smiled to herself, thinking of the quiet moments while his stereo had changed CDs. The jarring sounds of Kid Rock had managed to take her mind off the possibility of asking that he not take things quite so slow. His mumbled curses and the coldness of his arms leaving her made her hug the pillow tighter.

 

There had been an awkward moment when he'd walked her to the door. Even in the moonlight she had seen his blush when she'd reminded him that he had kissed her before getting out of the truck. But that hadn't stopped them from sharing another. And the memory of his soft promise to call her in the morning had her smiling.

 

- - -

 

"Do you happen to know where Trace put the folder of papers from the hospital?" Jen questioned in a loud whisper as she shuffled into the living room.

 

"You don't have to whisper. She's awake," Justin informed, nodding to the peaceful infant settled against his legs. He had been stretched out on the couch when Ellie Mae had begun fussing in her bassinet. Considering Trace had gone to the store and Jen had been asleep it had fallen on Justin to take care of her needs. Blessedly her only need had been the fixing of a twisted diaper and the reconfiguration of her blanket but Justin found he enjoyed the quiet moments with her. There was something calming about holding a newborn.

 

"How is she?"

 

"She's fine. How you feeling?"

 

"I still feel like Trace slammed into me with his patrol car going a hundred miles an hour. Every time I sit down or stand up I'm reminded of my mother's warnings about unprotected sex. And despite every home remedy that other mothers have so wonderfully given my breasts are hard as rocks and won't stop leaking."

 

Justin paled at her descriptive terms and turned his attention back to Ellie Mae. "Your Mommy has this problem where she shares too much information…"

 

"Where's Trace?" Jen demanded with a roll of her eyes.

 

"Went to the store to get some juice and diaper wipes." Justin carefully sat up and felt his heart lurch when Ellie Mae slid the opposite way his legs went. Clutching her to his chest he scowled when Jen began to chuckle.

 

"I seriously hope you're not so neurotic when you have kids," she decided, gingerly sinking onto the couch. "Why did he go get diaper wipes? We had four boxes…"

 

"Oh, God, you were asleep then. She had this really nasty diaper. It was like tar…" Justin shuddered at the memory. "It took three boxes to clean it all up and then we had to get it off the sofa cushion--"

 

"Have you two never heard of a freaking washcloth and warm water?" Jen scoffed, reaching to take her daughter into her arms. "My poor sweetheart. Don't worry. Next time Mommy will make sure to leave someone competent to take care of you."

 

"We got her clean," Justin defended. His arms felt empty once the baby was gone and he stood to shake the feeling away. "We could have left her stinking for you to deal with."

 

"Stinky diapers are Daddy's job, aren't they Ellie Mae?"

 

"What did he ever do to you?" Justin muttered. Feeling useless now that Jen was there to entertain Ellie Mae, he strolled around and gathered the scattered baby items from the floor. A rattle that had fallen from the bassinet and a stack of diapers that had been knocked off the coffee table. A soft pink blanket that his mother had knitted for the new arrival. A stuffed kangaroo… "Hey, Jen."

 

"Hmm?" Jen glanced up.

 

"It's Mr. Jackrabbit," he announced, holding out the kangaroo. "Y'think Granny would come out and box him?"

 

He yelped a curse when her foot shot out and kicked the stuffed kangaroo from his grasp. "Ain't funny, Jen! That's one of Ellie Mae's critters! You keep that up and I'll be forced to take away your cement swimmin' pond!"

 

"How long are you going to keep up with the Beverly Hillbillies jokes?" Jen growled.

 

"How long are you going to call her Ellie Mae?"

 

"You are so immature." Jen slowly got to her feet and cooed at her daughter as she moved to the bassinet. "You lay down here and when Mommy gets out of the shower it'll be time for you to eat, okay?"

 

Justin winced as the front door suddenly slammed shut, echoing throughout the house and causing the knickknacks on the mantle to shake warningly. Instantly Ellie Mae began to fuss and Jen turned a deadly glare to her husband, who strolled by on his way to the kitchen whistling a jaunty tune.

 

"Have you forgotten that we have a baby in the house?!" she shrieked, going after him. Justin turned to the bassinet and scooped the crying baby into his arms, following the bickering parents into the kitchen.

 

"I'm telling you, she needs to get used to noises and interruptions," Trace was defending as he shoved canisters of frozen juice into the freezer.

 

"And I'm saying that you can't just storm in here like the hounds of hell are on your heels!"

 

"Guys…" Justin attempted to get their attention, wrinkling his nose when Ellie Mae began to suck on his shoulder.

 

"You act like I came barging in shooting--"

 

"You could have shut the door like a human being--"

 

"Guys." Justin raised his voice slightly, transferring Ellie Mae into the crook of his arm and offering his finger as a pacifier.

 

"Our poor little baby is in there frightened to death and--"

 

"You can't talk, you ain't in there! You're in here bitching me out!"

 

"Guys!" Justin hissed before Jen could offer a retort. "Seriously can't you two stop bitching long enough to take care of your baby? I have a date to get ready for and she's messed up two of my shirts today."

 

"I'm sure Heather won't mind if you show up shirtless, Justin," Jen offered with a sweet smile as she took her daughter again.

 

"Funny," Justin deadpanned. "Some of my shirts are still here aren't they?"

 

"Yeah, in the laundry room… I'm going to feed the baby," she cooed, leaning to kiss her husband's cheek before heading out of the room.

 

Trace eyed Justin warily until they heard the bedroom door click shut. "And I thought the fucking hormones were bad before…"

 

"You did scare the baby, dude…"

 

"I'll make up for it later," Trace sighed, stacking wipes on the counter. "So where are you taking Heather tonight?"

 

"We're taking Donna to McDonald's and then driving to Fairview to catch the latest Disney movie." Justin glanced into the laundry room and saw a basket of clean clothes. Was that his t-shirt at the bottom?

 

"Then what?"

 

"Then I take them home," Justin supplied, digging through the clothes until he came across one of his shirts. It was slightly wrinkled and he sighed, moving to throw it into the dryer.

 

"Have you hit it yet?"

 

Justin whirled around at the question and found Trace leaning against the island counter with a grin. "Excuse me?"

 

"Have you hit it?"

 

"You have got to be kidding--"

 

"Don't fucking start that holier-than-thou bullshit. You asked me the same question when I started dating Jen," Trace reminded him.

 

"That was different." Justin turned and started the dryer. Mostly to keep Trace from seeing the horror that he knew was evident on his face and partly to keep from slinging a fist into his best friend's smirk.

 

"Whatever, dude. You didn't have problems with Ellie while I was gone, did you?"

 

Justin nearly thanked him for the change in topic. Taking a deep breath he turned back into the kitchen. "Nah. She's a really good baby."

 

"Yeah…" Trace slid onto a barstool and began flipping through a stack of mail. "Y'know, Lynn's right. It's past time you settle down and have a family of your own."

 

"Why would I do that when I've got Ellie Mae to spoil rotten?" Justin asked in confusion. "And when did you and Momma start talking about me behind my back?"

 

"Chill, man. I just saw her at the store and showed her some baby pictures and she started saying how much she wishes you'd give her a grandchild to spoil..."

 

Justin sighed and leaned against the counter. "I don't need to settle down."

 

"And I may have casually mentioned that you've got a ready-made family as it is," Trace continued, ripping open an envelope.

 

"What are you talking about now? If this is about me taking your place when you die, I was kidding. Me and Jen aren't compatible--"

 

"I'm talking about Heather and Donna, numb-nuts."

 

Justin's eyes widened. "What? You talked to Momma about Heather and Donna? Since when do you have the right to go around talking about my private life? With my mother for crying out loud?"

 

"You've done nothing but talk about them since you met them," Trace defended, scowling as he read over a bill.

 

"Well it's not like we're going to get married tomorrow. Jesus, Trace--"

 

"Girls like her don't come along every day and you know it." Trace set aside the bill and reached for the next. "If you keep pussyfooting around she'll leave."

 

"I've known her for a week, Trace. A week," he emphasized. This was beyond crazy. Of all people he had never suspected Trace would start playing the 'you need to settle down' card. Especially when he considered the fact that his friend hadn't gotten around to marrying Jen until she was six months pregnant.

 

"Dude. Chill," Trace muttered. Setting the mail aside he turned and Justin felt his stomach churn. "When are you gonna realize that not all women are psychotic bitches like Miranda?"

 

 

Justin had always known that his mother had impeccable timing. He never failed to notice that she called whenever he was about to leave or just coming in. Regardless of the situation, she always managed to catch him when talking to his mother was the last thing on his mind.

 

He had barely shut the front door when the phone began to ring. He was thinking that he'd have a cold beer and catch a recap of the previous Sunday's race before turning in but knew that was a lost cause. It was his mother. He knew it as surely as he knew the day was long.

 

Except the days he spent with Heather…

 

With a pleased smile on his face he picked up the phone on the second ring. "Hi, Momma."

 

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

 

Right. Like he didn't know she'd seen him drive by her house after leaving Heather's. He switched on the TV and muted it quickly. "I just got in."

 

"Oh? Were you at Trace's?"

 

"Momma," he sighed as he found the channel he was looking for. They were showing a rerun of the race. Twenty laps in… Tossing the remote aside he headed into the kitchen. "You'd make a horrible detective."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"You know where I was. I saw you peeking out the front window when I drove by this afternoon."

 

"And you didn't even wave at me," she reminded him.

 

"So why are you acting all sly and asking if I was at Trace's?" he asked, wanting to keep her on the right topic.

 

"To give you the chance to lie, of course."

 

Justin rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "You've got to be the weirdest mother, I swear."

 

"How else am I supposed to catch you in a lie?"

 

"It's called entrapment."

 

"Whatever. Now, where did you take Heather and her little girl?"

 

"McDonald's." This time he had beaten Donna at the nugget eating contest. But she had rebounded and challenged him in hopscotch at the park. After falling five times he had forfeited and it was then he had learned that hopscotch was more important than eating nuggets.

 

"You've been seeing her for three weeks and the best you can do is take her to McDonald's for three hours?"

 

"We went to the park for a little while afterwards and then I showed them-How do you know that we were gone for three hours?"

 

"There's a lovely little invention called a clock, sweetheart."

 

"Momma, are you stalking me?" He laughed at the idea as he popped the top off a beer. Shaking his head in disbelief he headed back into the living room.

 

"Don't be so paranoid. What did you show them?"

 

"Why is it so important to you?"

 

"Because you're my son and I love you. And I adore them."

 

Trace's words came screaming into his mind. "Momma."

 

"What?"

 

"Stop."

 

"Stop what?"

 

"We're just hanging out and having fun. So please stop planning a wedding."

 

"I'm doing no such thing."

 

"We're just friends. Her daughter is in my class."

 

"She doesn't get confused about that, does she? She's so young and seeing you so much outside of school…"

 

He had worried about that himself but he wasn't about to admit it to his mother. "Donna isn't confused. She doesn't sit on the carpet during the morning message and announce that Mr. Timberlake took her mother out to dinner."

 

"Good. I just don't want you to get into trouble."

 

"I'm not." God, was he sixteen again?

 

"And I don't want you to rush into something and get your heart broken." She didn't say it but he could hear the 'again' hanging at the end of her statement.

 

"Momma…"

 

"I saw Miranda this morning."

 

Fuck.

 

"Paul and I went to Fairview," she continued. "You know he's thinking about getting a new truck. I didn't know she was working at her father's dealership."

 

Of course she was. Fate had a sick sense of humor. "Uh-huh."

 

"She's engaged to Robert Jackson."

 

Justin wondered if it would be bad taste to send Robert a letter of sympathy. "Uh-huh."

 

"They're getting married in December. A Christmas wedding."

 

Where was his mother going with this? The brownies that he and Donna had made while Heather watched with amusement suddenly formed a tight knot in his stomach. "That's nice."

 

"A Christmas wedding, Justin."

 

"I heard you the first time." He hated the bite in his tone but couldn't help it.

 

"I'm sorry, Justin."

 

"I am too, Momma."

 

"She still looks like a slut."

 

"Momma--"

 

"Well, she does! Trying to sell cars in a miniskirt and a skintight top," she snorted.

 

"Please stop." He knew she was trying to make him feel better but it wasn't helping. The knot in his stomach twisted.

 

"Paul was wondering if you'd like to go fishing tomorrow."

 

"Yeah, that sounds good. Ask him to call and wake me up."

 

"He said to tell you that he promises not to ask you anything about Heather."

 

"Too bad he can't get you to promise the same," Justin mused. The knot was starting to loosen. It loosened further when she chuckled.

 

"Ain't gonna happen. I'll let you go. Remember sunblock tomorrow."

 

One sunburn five years ago and she still found it necessary to bring up the need to use sunblock. "I'll dig around and see if I still have my Scooby Doo lifejacket too."

 

"Good night, Justin," she said firmly. But she was smiling, he could tell. "I love you."

 

"Night, Momma. Love you too."

 

He tossed the phone aside and let his head drop back with a hard sigh. Staring up at the ceiling he reached blindly for the remote. His stepfather would give him a detailed recap of the race. And he was no longer in the mood to watch it. He welcomed the resulting darkness after he switched the TV off.

 

"I'm supposed to be over Miranda Fucking Palmer," he announced to the dark living room. "She's not supposed to fucking matter anymore!"

 

Great. Now he was talking to himself. Launching from the couch he snatched up his untouched beer and carried it with him to the bedroom. But when he reached the doorway he remembered who had helped him pick out the mattress. He remembered the delight they had taken in christening it after it was delivered.

 

Without sheets.

 

He turned back to the living room and wondered if it was wrong to hate his mother for mentioning his ex's name. But she hadn't been the first, he relented, sipping his beer as he leaned in the doorway to the kitchen. Trace had brought her up. He could hate his best friend, right?

 

"She doesn't fucking matter," he mumbled to himself.

 

Keep telling yourself that, you might believe it one day. He decided he hated that inner voice, too.

 

A Christmas wedding. No doubt it would take place in the big church she had attended all her life in Fairview. The bridesmaids would probably wear red and the flowers would be red roses. Instead of piano or organ she would have classical music pumped through the sound system. Her cousin's youngest daughter would be the flower girl. Her best friend's son would be the ring bearer. Her aunt would sing a solo.

 

Inside Your Heaven, of course.

 

He knew. Because he still remembered every detail she had rattled off as they had planned their wedding.

 

Their wedding. A week before Christmas. In the church she had attended in Fairview with bridesmaids wearing red and red roses. And instead of traditional piano or organ music she had prepared a CD of classical music. Her cousin's daughter would have been her flower girl and her best friend's son would have been the ring bearer. And her aunt was going to sing a solo after they had said their vows.

 

Wasn't there some sort of etiquette rule that said it was wrong to just switch out grooms? Wasn't it improper to keep every other little detail the same?

 

Of course, she had never worried about being improper. She wasn't the type to care about little things like that. Once she set her mind on something she got it.

 

The two carat diamond ring. The king-sized bed. The house on the edge of town instead of the old farmhouse Paul had given them.

 

The house he still lived in and was still paying for. The house he hated. The house that haunted him with memories of what he thought of as happier times. The bedroom he never slept in that still had their engagement photo on the dresser.

 

The living room with the couch she had told him to buy that still had the blanket she had picked out tossed over the back. The blanket he had felt under his hands when he and Heather had kissed on that couch. The blanket that had made it impossible for him to do anything more and had made him murmur those words that he had always hated hearing.

 

Take things slow, he thought with a snort.

 

He didn't realize he was sliding down until he felt the floor under his backside. Dragging a hand over his face he shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't do this anymore. He hated himself whenever he remembered her and what they had done together.

 

He hated her for leaving him so screwed up that after a conversation about her with his mother he sat in the corner in the darkness with a beer and a knot the size of Texas in his stomach.

 

He hated himself more for letting her get under his skin so much that he could hate her.

 

- - -

 

"Mommy, somebody's here," Donna announced as she skipped into the kitchen. Her pink Disney Princess slippers scuffed across the floor and she giggled at the sound.

 

Heather turned from the sink and reached for a dishtowel. "You didn't open the door did you?"

 

"No. I was watching the birds and a truck pulled up." Donna turned on one foot and headed for the living room.

 

Heather bit her lip to quell the thudding in her chest as she followed. Together they peered through the blinds at the man pulling a small toolbox from the back of the truck. Squinting, she knew she recognized him but for the life of her she couldn't remember where she had seen him. He wore a faded Jefferson High School t-shirt and the lettering on the side of his truck announced that he was a plumber.

 

Had Mr. Parker finally called a plumber about the bathroom sink? If so, he hadn't seen fit to let her know… With a sigh Heather moved to open the door when the man knocked. She gave him a wary smile. "Can I help you?"

 

"Heard you might have a problem with the bathroom sink," he answered. His face was pleasant and he held out his hand. "Paul Harless. We met at my wife's cookout on Labor Day?"

 

"Oh, right." She remembered how nice he had been. How much Donna had enjoyed being carried around the yard on his shoulders. She shook his hand and opened the door wider so he could enter. "Did Mr. Parker call you?"

 

"Mr. Paul!" Donna suddenly cried, bounding forward to greet him with a grin.

 

"How's the sweetest little girl in town doing today?" he asked, playfully tousling her hair.

 

"Fine. Are you gonna fix the sink?"

 

"I'm sure going to try. Why don't you show me where it is so I can get to work?"

 

It was on the tip of Heather's tongue to ask if he usually worked on Sunday afternoons but Donna was already leading him down the hall. After shutting the door she followed. "Did Mr. Parker call you?" she asked again when she reached the bathroom. Donna was opening the doors of the cabinet beneath the sink.

 

"It pees all over if we don't put a bucket under it," she informed Paul.

 

"You mean it leaks," he corrected with a chuckle. He set his toolbox on the floor and knelt down to have a better look. "John didn't call me, Ms. Lucas."

 

"Then who…" Heather sighed when she realized. Of course. Justin. The man had found it necessary to empty the bucket and warn her about mold and mildew if the pipe wasn't fixed soon. "Mr. Harless--"

 

"It's Paul. And Justin told me about it this morning."

 

"Is he coming, too?" Donna asked hopefully.

 

"I don't know about that. I told him I'd swing by and see what I could do." Paul glanced up. "Won't take long. Just need to replace the joint."

 

"How much is that going to cost?" Heather dreaded the sudden expense.

 

"It's been taken care of. Donna, you think you can hold this flashlight for me?"

 

Eager to help, Donna took the flashlight and carefully aimed it into the cabinet. "Where's Mr. Timberlake?"

 

"Donna…"

 

Paul chuckled. "When I dropped him off after fishing he mentioned coming up with work for you to do in school this week."

 

"Did you catch a lot of fish?"

 

"Some."

 

"Do you use gross worms?"

 

"You know, I could never get the hang of using worms. I use lures."

 

"What are they?"

 

"I think I have one…" Paul set down his wrench and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small plastic bag that had a vivid neon green fishing lure inside. "This is a lure. I attach a hook to it and when the fish see it in the water they think it's food."

 

"Wow…" The flashlight wobbled as Donna stared at the bag. "Mommy can we go fishing?"

 

Heather didn't have the heart to tell her daughter she knew nothing about the sport. "We'll see."

 

Unfortunately that answer never satisfied Donna. "Can you take us, Mr. Paul?"