A Dad of His Own. Gail Gaymer Martin
She curled her arm around Kelsey’s back. “How’s Lucy doing?”
“So far so good. Tumors are shrinking. You know how it is. It all takes time.” She gave Lexie a squeeze and lowered her arm. “Speaking of time, it’s shopping day for me. Groceries. Pharmacy. Service station.” Her head bobbed as she listed her tasks. “So I need to run, and…” A playful grin curved her mouth.
“Sure you do.”
“Maybe you could wait until Ethan’s finished before leaving. I hate to rush off without seeing him out of the building.”
“Good planning, Kelsey.” Lexie shook her head at her friend’s obvious plot.
“Thanks.” Kelsey wiggled her fingers in a silly goodbye. “I saw the eye contact.” The words flew over her shoulder.
Before Lexie could rebut the insinuation, she’d vanished beyond the doorway.
Lexie tossed the strap of her bag over her shoulder and rocked back on her heels, eyeing Ethan as he spoke to the last woman. They seemed so eager for information, and part of her wished she could be as enthusiastic.
Turning her back on them, she dealt with her feelings as she dug into her shoulder bag for her car keys. Brain tumors. Leukemia. Heart disorders. So many illnesses were part of life for the people who attended. Yet some had higher hopes than others. Some children were in remission. Some weren’t—like Cooper. But Cooper could be worse, and she had to remember that. No progress was better than his exacerbating. Big strides were wonderful, but small steps moved them forward. She’d learned to find joy in small steps. Each time she looked into Cooper’s face her heart filled with the same kind of happiness.
When she found her keys, Lexie stepped back and smacked against someone. As she spun around to apologize, her shoulder bag slipped down her arm and dropped to the floor beside a pair of men’s shoes.
“Sorry about that.” Ethan bent to retrieve her purse. He smiled as he rose. “What do you carry in that thing? A wrench?”
Lexie gathered her composure and managed a friendly smile. “You never know when you’ll need one.”
Ethan chuckled and returned her bag. “You’re a woman after my own heart. Always be prepared.”
If only she were. Lexie’s pulse escalated. “Thanks, and it was my fault, you know.” She slid her bag onto her shoulder again, realizing it was heavy.
“Michigan has the no-fault ruling.”
“That’s for cars.” Silly talk, but she enjoyed it.
Ethan rested his hand on the back of a chair. “No men in this group, I see.”
“The M in MOSK stands for mothers. Mothers of Special Kids.” Still, he’d made a point. She studied his face, wondering why support for men interested him. “A number of us are single mothers, and the married women haven’t asked.” But the question did arouse her curiosity. “You’re a man. Do you think—”
“Glad you noticed.” A twinkle lit his eyes.
His look tripped her pulse, and she worked to regained her composure. “As I was saying, do men really want to talk about their feelings?” She eyed him. “I thought men preferred to take action. We have so little we can do to make things better. It’s the emotional ups and downs that cause us problems.”
His smile had faded. “True for many men, too.” He motioned toward the front of the room. “So, what did you think?”
“About Dreams Come True?”
The corners of his mouth edged upward.
“The idea is wonderful, but…” Why had she added “but”? From his expression, she’d put a damper on his excitement about fulfilling the hopes of sick kids. “My son is not well enough. He’s being homeschooled right now. Clawson district has been great with his schoolwork, but it’s not the same. A child wants to attend school.”
“They miss the friendships and being part of it all. It makes learning more fun.”
“I think it does, too.” His compassion touched her. “It’s not that your foundation isn’t a lovely idea. It is. Whoever started this certainly has a generous heart.”
His eyes searched hers.
Perspiration dampened her palms, and she ran her free hand down her pant leg while her other clung to her shoulder bag strap.
A faint frown darkened his face. “But it won’t work for some kids. That’s what you’re saying.”
She closed her eyes and opened them again, releasing a ragged breath. “Yes. Some aren’t well enough to enjoy trips or days at an amusement park.”
“But one day maybe. Illnesses go into remission. Sometimes they nearly vanish. Isn’t that true?”
“True.” Curiosity spiked Lexie’s thoughts. “Have you had a child with—”
“I don’t have any children.”
From his sad expression, she feared she’d caused him to feel ill-at-ease.
His shoulders lifted. “I’m not married, and I’ve only read up on children’s illnesses and read about remissions that cause physicians to marvel. I realize that’s nothing like living it.”
Not married. Single as she was. She studied his face, wanting to know more about him. “It’s thoughtful that you’ve taken the time to understand what our kids go through.”
His expression softened. “But it’s not just the children. It’s families. So many without hope.”
He’d hit truth on the head. She’d tried to keep hope foremost in her mind.
Lexie glanced behind her and realized they were the only ones left in the room. When she turned back, Ethan was eyeing his watch. She took a step backward. “Kelsey, our moderator, had to leave, but I want to thank you for the presentation and for reminding me that things can get better.”
“You’re welcome.” He studied her a moment.
Lexie’s skin prickled with his look. “I’d better be on my way. I have a sitter.”
He took a step toward the door. “I’m heading out. I’ll walk with you.” He beckoned her forward and fell into step beside her along the hallway to the exit. Neither spoke, and though she wanted to say something meaningful, she felt tongue-tied.
Outside the April sunshine warmed Lexie’s spirit, as did the memory of Ethan’s smile.
“My car’s this way.” He pointed two rows over. “I wish we had time to really talk. I’d like to know more about the group, but I know you have things to do.”
She wished the same, but it was one of those strangers-in-the-night moments, like the old song. “I need to relieve the sitter.”
He lingered a moment before he turned toward his car.
Something in his eyes intrigued her. A sensitivity better than compassion. Compassion mixed with sincerity. And hope. She needed uplifting. That’s why she came to the MOSK meetings. She didn’t share much, but when Cooper had good times, she listened to members who were dealing with difficult situations, and while her heart broke for them, she realized how lucky it was when things were going well for her and Cooper. Then she had clouds beneath her feet rather than the usual black muck of depression.
As she watched Ethan reach his car, a white SUV, Lexie faltered. She’d never introduced herself. Too late now and probably just as well. If she ever fell in love, which she wouldn’t, it would be with a man like him. He sent her pulse skipping, gave her food for thought and, best of all, made her smile. Today, she’d found a real white knight.
And the knight didn’t even know her name.
Pulling herself from her ridiculous ideas, Lexie trudged