Teresa Southwick - The Doctor and the Single Mum

He walked down the path and turned right, heading for the marina store. A few minutes later he stepped onto the wooden walkway outside. A few yards from the door, the dock jutted into the lake, a small number of boats tied up on either side.

He entered the store and waited for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine outside. Bending over a box, Jill had her back to the door and was restocking the tall, refrigerated case with bottled water. Before she straightened he had time to look his fill and conclude that she did have one terrific tush.

And that kind of thinking was to his goal what the iceberg was to the Titanic . To win over the people of Blackwater Lake, he had to be her friend, nothing more.

“Mom?” That was C.J.’s voice.

Adam moved a step farther inside and saw the kid. Racks of souvenir T-shirts had hidden him, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the cold case. His elbows were resting on his knees, and his small, freckled face was cradled in both hands. If he was a photo, Adam would title it Boredom .

“Mom,” he said again, louder this time.

“What, kiddo?”

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Because you’re not allowed to play by the lake when there’s no one to watch you. That’s the rule.”

“It’s a stupid rule. I know how to swim.”

“True. But better safe than sorry,” she said.

“I’m already sorry because I can’t go outside.”

Adam smothered a laugh. This kid was priceless.

“I wanna go to Ty’s house,” he said, taking a new direction.

“We’ve been through this already. I have to mind the store, so I can’t drive you.”

“I could call Ty. I bet Mr. Dixon could come and get me, Mom.”

“He’s busy running his ranch. You shouldn’t bother him,” she said.

“When’s Brew coming back?”

“A couple of hours.”

The kid let out a big sigh. “I don’t got nothin’ to do for a couple hours.”

“I don’t have anything to do,” she corrected.

“Then you can drive me to Ty’s.”

Adam cleared his throat to cover a laugh and let them know he was standing there. “Hi.”

“Dr. Adam!” C.J. jumped up and ran over.

“Hi, champ.” He made a fist and the kid did the same and bumped it. Looking at Jill, he said, “Good morning.”

“How are you?” She brushed the curly red hair off her forehead.

“Good. Enjoying a day off.”

“Must be nice,” she said wistfully.

“It is.”

He saw the dark circles under her eyes and asked, “Is there any place in town you don’t work?”

She laughed, which was a nice surprise. “Potter’s Parlor was for Maggie, but this store is mine.”

“Interesting place,” he said, glancing around.

Fishing poles were standing along one wooden wall, and above them was a divided case with lures, sinkers and bait. Another wall had cubbyholes holding hats, and beside it were stacks of ice chests. In the center space were racks of outdoor clothing—quilted vests, flannel shirts, windbreakers and light jackets.

“Brewster works for me, so I take over when he’s off.”

“Who takes over when you’re off?”

“It’s not an issue.”

The subtext was that she never had time off. But there wasn’t any trace of self-pity in her tone or expression. All he saw was strength and pride. The combination made her stunning, the kind of woman he wanted to get to know better.

He started to say something but was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden walkway outside just before three men came into the store. They were all about the same age, in their late fifties or early sixties.

Jill smiled. “Welcome to Blackwater Lake.”

Adam listened to the conversation and figured out that these guys were strangers to her, new to the area and looking for fishing gear. Jill led them to the wall with rods and reels, then began answering their questions regarding the pros and cons of each type and its relation to their skill level.

While she was preoccupied with customers and a potentially lucrative sale, her son slipped outside, unnoticed by anyone but Adam. He stood in the store’s doorway and saw C.J. race down to the lake’s edge, then bend to grab a rock and throw it into the water. So much for mom’s rule. And Jill was right to worry about safety around the water.

Adam walked down the path and stopped beside the boy. He picked up a smooth stone, then flicked his wrist and watched it skip three times before disappearing.

“Cool,” C.J. said. “How did you learn to do that?”

“Tyler’s dad showed me when I was just about your age.”

The boy looked up, squinting into the sun. “Did you live here then?”

“I only visited during the summer.”

“Are you and Mr. Dixon friends?”

“Yes.” So far the only one he had in Blackwater Lake. As far as Jill was concerned, C.J. didn’t count.

“Can you teach me how to skip rocks?” he asked eagerly.

“I can show you. Then it’s just practice to get the hang of it.”

“Forget it, then. I’ll never get good.” C.J. kicked at the rocky shore with the toe of a sneaker. “I’m not s’posed to be here alone. But Mom never has time to watch me.”

“She has a lot of responsibility.” He could relate. Jill was a single mom, but Adam had two parents, and their demanding careers had left little time to spend with a boy who wanted to play. He’d been turned over to others to be supervised, then spent summers here. As an adult he understood, but thank goodness for those summers. “But I’m here now.”

“You can watch me?”

“Yeah.” He picked up another stone and demonstrated the proper way to hold it, between thumb and forefinger. “It’s all in the wrist.”

C.J. watched as he threw it and said, “Let me try.”

They worked on the skill for five minutes, which is about all the attention span a six-year-old has. After that the boy used the rocks like a depth charge, aiming for the fish darting around just below the surface.

“I’m a mighty hunter,” he said, moving so close the water almost lapped over his shoe.

Adam was ready to grab him if there was a chance he’d fall in. “Do you have a fishing pole?”

“Not yet. Mom says when I’m seven.”

“When’s that?”

“When it gets cold.”

He remembered Jill telling him that the doctor had left as soon as it turned cold. Had he been there for the kid’s birthday or skipped out before? She’d said she wouldn’t allow her son’s heart to be broken again , which meant he’d already been hurt once. That sucked.

“Does it hurt the fish when you hook ’em?”

Probably , Adam thought. But he didn’t want to tell the boy that. The crunch of footsteps behind them saved him from having to answer, but the look on Jill’s face told him he wasn’t saved from anything else.

“Uh-oh,” C.J. said. “It’s my mom.”

Uh-oh, indeed .

“I’m very disappointed in you, C.J.”

Adam knew from personal experience that the disappointment card was the biggest gun in the parental arsenal. But a safety rule had been broken.

“Are you mad, Mom?”

“Do I look mad?” Her voice was deadly quiet and calm. Shouting would have been easier to take.

C.J. studied her expression. “No?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “You disobeyed a direct order right after we talked about it.”

Adam looked from her to C.J., knowing she’d just taken the “I forgot” defense out of play.

“There has to be consequences, kiddo.”

“Am I grounded?”

“I have to think about this,” she said.

“While you’re thinkin’,” he said, rubbing a finger along the side of his nose, “remember Ty’s birthday party is in a week.”