Lullaby for Two / Child's Play: Lullaby for Two. Cindi Myers
Vince had downed the enchiladas and half of his soda, he said, “I’ll probably take Sean home late afternoon tomorrow. In the morning, the physical therapist is going to show me exercises for his wrist and thumb and fingers. It will be a few weeks before we can do anything with his shoulder.”
“Are you nervous about taking him home?”
“Not nervous. Just concerned he’ll need something and I won’t understand what it is.”
“Would you like me to come over tomorrow evening? I could just check and make sure everything’s okay.”
Vince studied her for a long time.
“What?”
“I’m going to owe you a few Texas T-bone dinners or a room full of flowers when this is all done.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
Again he was silent for a few moments, then he asked, “Will you answer a question for me?”
“Maybe. It depends on the question.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “I should have known.” Then he sobered. “You said you care about me and Sean. Is that why you’re here?”
“Does it matter? I help friends, Vince, and they help me. That’s the way small towns work. You know that.”
“Maybe I’d forgotten, or maybe I just never experienced small-town life the way you have. When my dad was passed out on the living room floor, I don’t remember anybody helping.”
She imagined him as a young boy, in a situation much too complicated for him to figure out on his own. “Did you ever ask for help?”
“Hell no! It was a matter of pride for both me and Dad.”
“So why are you accepting my help now?”
His expression changed, going from serious to much lighter. “Because you have great taste in restaurants,” he joked, pointing to the crumpled bags on the floor beside his chair.
“Vince.”
With a sigh, he ran his hand through his already disheveled hair. “I knew you wouldn’t let that pass,” he grumbled. Finally he admitted, “I’m not sure. Probably because you care about Sean. You care about babies and you know what you’re doing. Since you’re a doctor, Sean needs you to watch out for him. I’ll never deprive him of that, pride or no pride. I guess I’m learning that by being a parent, I can’t let anything stand in the way of what’s best for him.”
She knew that was the right answer, but maybe she’d wanted a different answer. Maybe she’d wanted him to say that he still felt connected to her on some level. Maybe she’d wanted him to admit that whatever was between them so many years ago wasn’t yet finished. Heck, she’d just admitted that to herself after their last kiss. She hadn’t wanted to consider it before. Denial was a great wall that could keep worries and complications at bay. The problem was—it was a wall that always crumbled.
Right now she was tired, not just physically tired, but emotionally drained. She’d worried along with Vince this morning and she knew she was becoming entirely too invested in Sean’s welfare, not to mention Vince’s life. But that would soon end. Sean would be recuperating and then Vince would be leaving. So if she wanted to play Good Samaritan or friend, there was no harm in that.
She wasn’t involved with Vince.
Her salad only half-eaten, she settled the lid on it and stuffed it into the bag.
“That wasn’t much of a supper,” he scolded.
“It was enough. I’ve got to get going or Francesca and Emily will send out the search dogs.”
“They don’t know where you are?”
“Not exactly. I just told them I wouldn’t be home until late.”
After Vince pushed himself up from the recliner, he took his empty bag and dumped it in the trash can. “Are you taking that home to finish it?”
When she shook her head, he took the bag from her and tossed it into the can on top of his.
“If you had your choice, which would you pick? Flowers or the steak dinner?” he joked.
She rolled her eyes.
“Humor me.”
Would she choose the safety of flowers, or the complication of a dinner with Vince? That’s what he was really asking, wasn’t it?
“I like flowers,” she decided, taking the safe route.
“That’s good to know.” His gaze was trying to turn her inside out. Before it did, she moved toward the door.
She stopped before exiting the room. “You can call my office tomorrow and let me know when you’re home. I’ll be there until after five.”
“Will do.”
The light was too dim to read his expression.
As she murmured, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and left the room, she heard him call, “Drive safely.”
She had taken safe roads up to this point in her life. Were safe roads really what she wanted?
That was a question better left unanswered for now. That was a question that was better left unanswered until after Vince left Sagebrush.
When Tessa arrived at Vince’s condo around seven o’clock, Mrs. Zappa was still fussing in the kitchen. The housekeeper had opened the door to Tessa and exclaimed, “Maybe you can make him eat!”
Tessa wasn’t sure if Mrs. Zappa was talking about Vince or Sean. In fact, she’d never been introduced to the housekeeper and wondered how Mrs. Zappa knew who she was. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she began.
“Oh, I know who you are. You’re Walter McGuire’s daughter and you were once married to Vince.” Conspiratorially, she leaned toward Tessa. “I’ve never told him I know, but I do.”
Tessa had to smile in spite of herself. “Do you think he’d be uncomfortable if he knew you knew?”
“You know men. They like to keep their life private. If he wants to do that, it’s fine with me. I’m not going to poke where I’m not wanted. He only let go of that boy to get a shower since he brought him home from the hospital, and now he’s holding him again. Vince needs to take care of himself, too. The casserole’s still in the oven. It’s going to be dry as toast if he doesn’t eat it soon.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Tessa assured her. “How is Sean?”
“From what I can tell, that little boy is doing fine. He ate his supper.”
Tessa laughed. “That is a good sign.”
Mrs. Zappa moved toward the door. “It was good to meet you, Dr. McGuire.”
“It was good to meet you, too, but please call me Tessa.”
“And you can call me Rhonda.” She gave a last wave and left.
Moments later, Tessa was standing outside Sean’s room. A small CD player on top of the chest played soothing music. Vince was sitting in the rocking chair with Sean asleep in his arms. He was looking down at his son as if he never wanted to look away.
“How’s he doing?” she asked softly.
Vince gently touched the sling on Sean’s arm. “As long as I talk to him and play with him, he’s not fussy. I guess it distracts him from any discomfort he’s having.”
“Rhonda says you need to eat your supper. Now would be a good time if Sean’s asleep, don’t you think?”
“Rhonda?”
“Mrs. Zappa. She told me I could call her Rhonda.”
He