Janice Johnson - From Father to Son

“I’ll pay you back,” she said to Niall, when he closed the door on Desmond’s side and looked at her over the roof of the car.

“Looks like Anna’s asleep at last. Close your eyes, too, if you can.”

This time she sat in front. Once she’d locked the doors, she did put the seat back a bit. She couldn’t doze, but she came close. Time had a dreamlike quality. She didn’t know how long it was before he came back, handed her a bag and then started the car. They didn’t talk during the short drive.

When they got home, Niall said quietly, “I’ll carry him up to bed,” and she could only nod. Anna stirred when she picked her up, but Desmond stayed limp and unresponsive. Rowan had forgotten to lock the back door, which earned her a glance from Niall, but all he did was carry her son upstairs and turn into his bedroom. She gave Anna a dose of the strawberry-flavored antibiotic and another dose of painkiller, tucked her in, and looked up to see Niall waiting in the bedroom doorway.

“She okay?” he murmured when Rowan joined him in the hall.

“Mostly worn-out, I think. But maybe she’ll sleep for a few hours.”

He looked down at her with those gray eyes that didn’t reveal anything, however kind he’d been tonight. “You need to do the same.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “You, too.”

“Yeah.” His voice had dropped a notch, sounded husky. “I will.”

“Thank you,” Rowan whispered.

His hand lifted and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His knuckles seemed to linger against her cheek, but that might have been her imagination. He backed a step away. “I’ll lock up,” he said, low and gentle, then turned and went downstairs.

Rowan stood where she was until the lights downstairs went out and she heard the click of the back door. She was so tired she was swaying on her feet. It was hard to make herself turn out the hall light, too, and go into her bedroom. She stripped off her clothes and bothered with the T-shirt she wore as a nightgown only because she would probably have to get up again with Anna.

Sleep pulled her down. Just before she fell into it, she thought how lucky her grandmother had been to find Niall. How lucky she was.

Yes, but he didn’t want to be with us tonight.

What a strange thought. He’d been wonderful. And yet…something told her that the whole while, a part of him had strained to escape.

He was really a stranger, so it shouldn’t hurt to know that he’d helped because he felt he had to, not because of any tender feelings for her or the kids. Shouldn’t hurt? Didn’t. Of course it didn’t hurt, she told herself, and fell into the thick velvet darkness of sleep.

ROWAN STOOD AT THE KITCHEN sink, her hands in soapy water, and watched her son through the window. She hadn’t noticed in time to stop him from knocking on Niall’s door. She’d first spotted him standing there staring at it as if it would surely open any minute. Sam was at his side, Desmond’s hand gripping the dog’s ruff. For once, Sam’s tail wasn’t wagging. She saw the minute Des gave up; his shoulders slumped, his head bowed and he turned away, disconsolate.

Rage rose in her, almost choking her. How could Niall do this to a little boy? He’d systematically avoided them since that night. Three days now, and he had managed to come and go when none of them were outside. He didn’t answer knocks on his door, even though Rowan knew he was home. He was letting them know, bluntly and cruelly, that he had no intention of getting sucked into their lives.

If it was only her, she wouldn’t have minded. Anna, she thought, had been getting attached, but she was less aware of his rejection. Desmond, though, had latched on to him with all of a little boy’s need, and now Niall was knowingly hurting him.

What she wished she could do was find an excuse to evict the jerk. Maybe she could find a genuinely nice man to live in her small rental. No, not a man; a woman. She wouldn’t set Des up for this again. She ached, watching him walk so slowly back across the lawn, scuffing his feet, never once raising his head. She hoped Niall was watching, too. She hoped he felt guilty.

Rowan snorted. Who was she kidding? If he was capable of guilt, he’d be letting Desmond down gently instead of cutting him off, whack, sorry, don’t want to see you, kid.

Drying her hands, she went to the back door and opened it. “Hey,” she said, “I was thinking about baking cookies. You want to help?”

“Not really.” He sat on the bottom step. “Sam and me want to stay out here. That’s okay, isn’t it, Mom?”

No, she wanted to say. No, it isn’t, not if you’re going to stare at Niall’s house and wait for something that isn’t going to happen. But how could she?

“Maybe Zeke would like to come over,” she suggested.

He shook his head. “He has swimming lessons today.”

Now she felt a pang of guilt. She’d meant to sign Desmond up, too, but what with moving and starting work on the house, it had slipped her mind. “I’ll bet I could get you in for the last session,” she said. “I’ll find out when it starts.”

“Can Anna take lessons, too?”

“The doctors don’t recommend she get water in her ears. You know how I put plugs in her ears even in the bathtub.”

“Zeke says he’s doing real good. He swam all the way across the pool.” Desmond sounded impressed.

“You already know how to put your face in and float and kick. You’ll be swimming across the pool, too, before you know it.”

“But I’ll be in Beginners, won’t I? Zeke says he’s gonna be in Advanced Beginners next time.”

Lousy mother alert. Her shoulders sagged, too. Maybe Donna and Glenn were right. Maybe she wasn’t a good mother.

“I can swim,” she said. “What if we go to public swim sessions and I teach you? Maybe you could catch up before the next session of lessons starts.”

His face brightened even as she was thinking, Wait! What do I do with Anna? She should have thought before she opened her mouth. But Anna’s grandparents would be thrilled to have her. It could be a sort of…consolation for them. A chance to spend time with one of their grandkids, while Rowan had a good excuse for not leaving Desmond with them. Yes. That might work.

“Really?”

She smiled at her son. “Really.”

“That would be cool,” he decided. “I bet I can learn real fast.”

“I bet you can, too.”

“Do you think Niall knows how to swim?”

She aimed one brief laser-sharp glare at the cottage, wishing it could pass through walls and impale her tenant. “Who knows?” she said lightly. “He’s just a guy who was renting from Gran, Des. I know he was nice to you, but he must be really busy. We were lucky he could help us out the other night, but let’s not count on him, okay?”

The animation left her son’s face. After a moment he bowed his head again. “I thought he liked me.”

She hesitated. “I’m sure he does, but…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “I’ve got Super Sam. And I like living here better than Grandma and Grandpa’s.”

“Good.” Rowan hugged him. “You sure you don’t want to help with those cookies?”

For a moment she thought he was going to refuse again, but finally he shrugged and climbed to his feet. “I guess I might as well.”

He trudged into the house after her, and right at that moment she hated Niall MacLachlan with all the passion in her heart.

HE’D MISSED HIS LITTLE hobby.

The man moved soundlessly across the lawn, loving the cloak of darkness. It had been over a year since he’d done this. He had to worry about being caught, even though he never had been. Still, he would indulge himself for a while, for a few weeks or months, then quit again before the police got involved. He could find what he needed on his computer. There was plenty available online to satisfy his craving.