Bonnie Winn - Family by Design

Chuckling, Adam looked smug. “You said it.”

A few weeks later, J.C. glanced around the near-empty rooms of his sister’s house. “You’re amazing!”

Surprisingly, Maddie blushed.

The quaint sign was charming, taking him aback even more than all she had accomplished.

“You sent a lot of help,” she reminded him, not quite meeting his gaze as she fiddled with one of the few remaining cartons.

“Still …” He shifted, taking in how much had been accomplished, how his sister’s belongings had all been tucked away.

“I did think of something else.” Maddie finally lifted her eyes. Today they were as blue as her sapphire-colored blouse. “Even with another family living here, from the outside the house looks the same. If you had it painted in a new palette, one that doesn’t even resemble the gray, it would seem very different.”

J.C. hadn’t even considered the exterior. “I don’t know much about picking out colors.”

Maddie smiled, causing the dimple in her cheek to flash. “That’s the easy part.”

Wanting to study her face, her soft-looking lips, he nodded. “Such as?”

She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Um … yellow would be pretty. A daisy shade of yellow. White trim. Be cause the front door is mostly glass …” Her voice trailed off.

J.C. realized he was staring, not listening. “Sounds good.”

She brightened. “I don’t want you to think I’m meddling. I have this habit of over-organizing things, people, well, most everything.”

Her dimple moved when she spoke, a punctuation mark to her smile. As he watched, it gradually disappeared. What had she just said?

Maddie’s smile faded a bit.

And J.C. marshaled his thoughts. “You were saying?”

“That I meddle.”

“Thank the Lord you do.” She paled and he instantly realized she’d taken his words the wrong way. “Helping, not meddling. I’d never have guessed Fran’s house could be packed up so … quickly.”

“And the painting?” she prodded.

“Great idea.” Her eyes were incredibly blue. “Maybe blue?”

“With the yellow? Or just a light shade of blue?”

“Definitely not light,” he murmured, captivated by the depth of color in her eyes.

“Well, we could get some samples, look them over.” Maddie twisted her hands.

J.C.’s gaze followed her action when he abruptly remembered the last time he’d been entranced by a pretty face and mesmerizing eyes. His ex-wife had been pretty, as well. On the outside. “You still haven’t told me how much you’ll take for doing all this.”

Her eyes clouded and that enchanting dimple disappeared. “I did it to help you, not to make money.”

“But …” He waved around, again stunned by the emptiness. While it was a relief to have the job done, the house no longer held the reminders of Fran’s life. Facing Maddie again, he couldn’t keep a sliver of bleakness out of his voice. “It was a big job.”

Maddie’s voice, too, was quiet. “For me it was Dad’s fishing pole. Mom gave it to his best friend. Logically, I knew Dad was gone, that he wasn’t coming back, but when his fishing pole was in the shed, leaning against the wall, it almost seemed like he’d stroll back in, whistling, ready to tie new flies.”

She got it. Completely. “Yeah.”

“When everything’s done … if you do decide to change the look of the exterior, it might help Chrissy to see it’s just a house.”

His niece had been campaigning to live in the building on Main Street. “She’d kick and scream all the way here. And I’m not ready for that.”

“Think about my offer.”

He blanked, looking at her in question.

“To watch Chrissy in the afternoons.”

“Still not enough to do?” he asked wryly.

“Actually, Chrissy kept Mom entertained the day you visited. That means more time for me to get things done.”

He was skeptical. “You forget, I know Chrissy. Much as I love her, right now she’s acting like a pain.”

“Understandably.”

“It’s easier to be understanding from a distance,” he warned her, thinking of Chrissy’s refusal to do any homework. He’d wrangled with her for more than an hour and had gotten nowhere.

Maddie laughed. “Isn’t everything? Keep the offer in mind. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sobered, he wondered. In his experience, that’s exactly what women did.

The phone jangled loudly. J.C. bolted upright, reaching for the receiver before the noise could wake Chrissy. Momentarily forgetting he was sleeping on the couch, he overshot the mark and slammed his hand into a lamp that crashed to the floor. Grabbing the side table so that he wouldn’t land on top of the broken glass, he smashed his toes into the unyielding wood base.

Muttering under his breath, he finally reached the phone. Bad car accident on the highway, possible spinal fracture. Flipping on the overhead light, he glanced at his watch. Nearly two in the morning.

J.C. dressed quickly, then wrote a note for Chrissy. Still uneasy with leaving her alone, he stopped at Blair’s apartment, knocking quietly.

Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. “I’ll try to listen, but I pulled a double yesterday and I’m beat.”

“Sorry I woke you.”

She yawned again. “Me, too.”

“Thanks, Blair.”

Still yawning she closed the door.

Once at the hospital, J.C. rushed to the trauma area. Fortunately, the situation wasn’t as dire as he expected, but it was still over two hours before he neared home.

Red lights flashed from an ambulance, strobing eerily in the darkness. Grabbing his bag, he ran toward an EMT . Chrissy! Had something happened to her? “I’m a doctor.” Panting, he caught his breath. “What’s the situation?”

“Heart attack. Nurse that lives here gave him CPR. Touch and go, but she kept him alive.”

“Nurse?” Blair? J.C. skirted the back of the ambulance, catching sight of Blair, then reaching her on a run. “Where’s Chrissy?”

Blair looked distracted. “In your apartment I imagine. Had my hands pretty full here.”

“Sorry. Of course.” He pushed one hand through his thick hair. “Saved his life, I hear.”

“Hope so.”

J.C. loped across the lawn toward his apartment. Even from a distance, he could see that the overhead light in the living room was on. Not breaking his stride, he burst inside. But the living room was empty. With the lights on, his earlier tangle with the lamp looked ominous. “Chrissy?”

No answer.

The bedroom light was off, but he could see the mound of little girl beneath the covers. He switched on the lamp. “Chrissy?”

Muffled cries penetrated her covering.

Gently he peeled back the duvet. “It’s okay.”

“Uh-uh.” She cried harder.

“I know one of the neighbors got sick, but it looks like he’ll be all right.”

“You weren’t here!” she accused.

“There was an emergency—” J.C. started to explain.

“The sirens came and everything!”

Logic couldn’t overcome her fear. “I’m here now.”

Chrissy burst into a new round of tears. It was too late. And it wasn’t enough. Worse, he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again.

J.C. glanced at Lillian Carter’s chart. “No nausea or decreased appetite?”

Maddie answered for her mother. “Nope. If anything, she’s eating a bit more.”

“Now is that something we tell handsome young men?” Lillian fussed, then smiled at J.C. To Maddie’s surprise he didn’t smile back. Wasn’t like him. Not at all. Lillian smoothed her skirt. “You bake a lot of sweets. They’re hard to resist.”

“I do have a sweet tooth,” Maddie admitted.