Jennifer Greene - Tender Loving Care

Parker peered around the adult bodies to level fever-glazed eyes on his brother. “Did you hear that? Uncle Rafe has to have the shots.”

It was an hour before they were back home, because they had to stop at a drugstore for the prescriptions. By then, Zoe had high hopes Rafe would turn back into Rafe. Instead, she was ready to ship him off to the nearest asylum by the kids’ bedtime. She was as concerned as he was, but pacing around the house like a caged tiger was not helping. And trying to reason with a four-year-old about why he had to swallow terrible-tasting medicine was all very nice, but it went on for thirty minutes until Zoe tipped the tablespoon in Parker’s mouth and held his lips closed until he swallowed.

“That,” Rafe said heavily, “was cruel.”

Zoe set a shot glass in front of him and went into the other room to get the kids into their pajamas. Aaron closed his eyes the minute his head hit the pillow, but Parker wasn’t about to sleep. “My ear hurts, and I can’t breathe when I lie down,” he complained.

“We’ll fix it so you don’t have to lie down,” she whispered back. Bringing in the rocker from the living room, she swaddled Parker in a light blanket and rocked him. When his cheek cuddled sleepily on her shoulder, she closed her eyes and felt love ache through her like a surprise.

She’d known feelings were growing inside her for the twins, but not like this. For three years, every time she’d seen a child, she’d thought of the children she couldn’t have. For three years, she’d held her chin high and told the whole damn world she didn’t care. She cared. She’d always cared, but the wonder was holding and loving Parker and not having an ounce of emotional baggage intrude on that. Parker was himself, not the children she couldn’t have, not other children, not the source of something that had cut up her life. He was just…Parker. A little boy who needed someone to love him.

A little boy she loved very much.

Barely a half hour passed before Rafe appeared in the doorway. On stocking feet, he edged toward the bed. Aaron never moved when Rafe adjusted his blanket, or even when he sat down at the foot of the bed near the rocker.

“Is he asleep?” he whispered, nodding at Parker.

“Yes.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing, love.” The endearment slipped out.

His voice was as heavy as lead. “Zoe, it’s entirely my fault that he’s sick.” He leaned forward. In the darkness, his features were blurred and indistinct except for the dark orbs of his eyes. “I told you I took them to the park a few days ago. But I didn’t tell you it started to rain.”

“If you don’t stop this,” Zoe whispered patiently, “I’m going to call the doctor to get you a knock-out drug. Dammit, Rafe, can’t you remember getting a few sore throats and colds as a kid? And I’ve heard Janet say that Parker was prone to minor ear infections. The doctor said it was common and nothing to worry about. Getting wet never hurt anybody.”

He said nothing for a while, and then, “Do you want me to rock him?”

“I’m afraid to move him for fear he’ll wake up again.”

He nodded, then carefully eased himself down on the bed next to Aaron. Finally, he admitted in a whisper, “I can’t stand it, you know. Never could.”

“What?”

“Feeling helpless.”

At eleven she tried putting Parker back to bed, but he immediately woke and started whimpering. Rafe insisted on taking his turn in the rocker, and it was Zoe’s turn to lie down on the bed. Parker was asleep within seconds, and not long after that so was Rafe, his chin nestled on top of the child’s head.

Zoe couldn’t seem to move away from her three males, any more than she could go to sleep. She studied Rafe’s moonlit profile, loving him-maybe more so after today. Even a rock had the right to crumble sometimes. If she’d ever wondered what his Achilles’ heel was, she certainly knew now.

Rafe had no tolerance for feeling helpless, for not being able to help those he cared about. It seemed to Zoe the most endearing and human of weaknesses, but it disturbed her as well. It was the first clue she’d had as to why he didn’t want the responsibility of raising the children. Being a parent meant having to watch little ones stumble and fall, make mistakes and learn from them, suffer growing pains and colds.

Maybe day in, day out caretaking had taken its toll on Rafe. Instead of bringing him closer to the boys, perhaps the constant contact had sealed his feelings in the other direction. He had a fascinating job, an independent lifestyle that included travel and freedom. He valued privacy. Now, instead of enjoying stolen moments of lovemaking, he was faced with the prospect of wiping an urchin’s runny nose all night…How could she blame him for not wanting to make that kind of change in his life?

Parker woke three times in the night. She and Rafe took turns rocking him. In the morning, his fever was down; he ate two bowls of Corn Flakes and picked three fights with his brother. Rafe kept studying him in disbelief. Finally, he poured coffee and shook his head as he whispered to Zoe, “I don’t care what he looks like. I never want to go through another night like that one!”

She took a sip of the steaming brew, but it settled in her stomach like despair.

“Aaron? Parker? Rafe?”

The apartment might as well have been a tomb. Parker was long past well and deserved a treat. Zoe had left the institute early, hoping to talk the group into an early Friday-night movie and dinner. Only there was no group.

Poking her head into the kitchen, she noted gleaming counters and clean dishes. Such perfection might have aroused shock and even alarm if she hadn’t heard a muffled thump from the bedroom. Someone was alive and well. Unbuttoning her jacket, she traveled the hallway to her bedroom door, where she took a long, amazed breath.

Two suitcases were propped on her bed. Neither of them was hers, although one was rapidly being filled with her clothes. Rafe was frowning in total masculine puzzlement over the difficulties of neatly folding a pink silk half-slip. Giving up, he tossed it on top, where it promptly slithered into a reasonably neat little heap.

The suitcases more than earned her surprise, but Rafe was the shocker. Used to seeing him in jeans and sweatshirts, Zoe noted the sharply creased tan cords, the calfskin vest, the gleam of a gold watch she hadn’t seen before. His chin was so smooth that his shave couldn’t have been an hour old, and a whiff of English Leather drifted toward her nostrils, distinctly and traditionally masculine. She had reason to know he was a handsome man, even when he was fresh out of bed, but spiffed up, he was darn close to kill-for material.

She delicately cleared her throat, which earned her a fast swivel of a man’s head and blue eyes that reflected dismay, surprise and, if she wasn’t mistaken, guilt.

“You seem to have misplaced two children,” she mentioned.

“You’re home early!” He glanced swiftly back to the suitcases. “I can explain…”

“Good, because for a minute I thought I’d had wine for lunch. I never have wine for lunch, but for some reason those look like my clothes being packed.”

“Yes.” A wisp of a masculine grin. “Now, let’s not panic, Zoe. This is a good surprise, not a bad one-although I admit I’d have been a lot happier if you hadn’t shown up until five. There’s one awkward detail…”

“Just one?”

“Yes, but it’s a big one. Remember, Zoe, I’ve only got one week left of my leave of absence. So next week we have to sit down quietly and discuss what we’ve both been avoiding talking about: what to do with our urchins.”