Janice Johnson - In A Heartbeat

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny about that?”

“A private thought.”

“You mean, you do understand the concept of privacy?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I do. I just figure it never hurts to ask.”

“It doesn’t hurt you,” Anna said very quietly.

Sobering, he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Seeing the deliberate way she turned a shoulder to him and joined the kids’ conversation again, he realized he’d stepped in it. Damn it, why had he thought she’d answer a question like that? He rarely surrendered to impulse.

He tuned in to hear Anna asking Molly about her teacher. Josh didn’t seem to be reacting negatively to seeing Molly again, so enrolling her in her old school here in Bellevue shouldn’t be a problem.

Or, hey, Josh and Molly might be as good at hiding what they were really thinking as the two adults were.

They boxed up what pizza was left and took it with them, returning to their two cars. Hers looked even shabbier beside his Lexus.

“Stick close,” he reminded Anna, after being sure Molly was belted in properly.

She was still strapping her own wriggling daughter into the back seat. “With the address, I imagine I could find it.”

He dragged his gaze from her shapely rear end. “It’s tricky knowing which driveway is ours.”

“Fine.”

Pulling out of the parking lot, Nate kept an eye on the rearview mirror. It took him a few blocks to notice that Molly hadn’t said a word.

“You like Josh and Jenna?” he asked.

Anna’s old car was hanging close behind.

“Yes, only—” Molly screwed up her face. “It’s my fault their daddy is gone, so why aren’t they mad?”

Hating the agony he heard in her voice, Nate said, “Maybe they know it’s not your fault. We talked about this.”

“Yes, but...” She bent her head, hiding her expression.

He waited, to no avail. “Anna doesn’t blame you, either, or she wouldn’t have agreed to come live with us until your mom is better and ready to take you back.”

No comment. He hadn’t a clue what Molly thought about her mother’s absence. Living with an alcoholic parent couldn’t be easy at any age. Was she relieved? Desperate for Mommy to take her home? Or justifiably afraid Mommy wouldn’t be better, after all?

Nate made the turn onto Shoreland Drive, satisfied to see Anna still right behind. The private lane wasn’t well marked. At the end, it split into three driveways, his being the right-hand one. The view of the lake opened, and he tapped the remote control to access the garage, driving straight in. Anna parked where she’d have room to make a tight U-turn when it came time to leave.

He got out, circling to help Molly if she needed it, which she didn’t. Anna’s kids huddled close to their mother as they stared at his house, eyes wide.

“Somehow I knew you’d have lakefront,” Anna said drily, her hands resting on her children’s shoulders in reassurance.

Feeling defensive, Nate said, “This isn’t as luxurious as some of the waterfront homes in Medina or Hunts Point.”

“You mean, your house isn’t forty thousand square feet, like Bill Gates’s supposedly is?”

“No, it definitely isn’t.” He tried for a little humor. “I don’t want to get lost in the middle of the night trying to find the bathroom.”

Nobody laughed. The funny part, Nate thought, was that, once upon a time, Sonja had wanted to move. Plenty of celebrities called Yarrow Point or Hunts Point home. She liked the idea of living next to a star pitcher for the Mariners or a big shot in the software world. “You could afford it,” she used to complain. Yes, he could, but he liked where he lived, or had until he lost his family. It was just as well he hadn’t let her wear him down, or he’d be rattling around in an even bigger house now.

“Ah...come on in. We’ll give you the grand tour.”

Her kids moved in step with her when they followed. His Mediterranean style house clearly intimidated them, even though he didn’t consider it ostentatious. The cream-colored stucco exterior was accented by a red-tile roof. Broad, double doors in a dark, carved wood gave an aged feel. Inside, light poured through the vast windows looking out on Lake Washington. The decor was simple—hardwood floors, scattered rugs, leather and brocade upholstered furniture, wood furniture mostly cherry in a modified mission style with clean lines. He’d bought some art he liked for the walls, since Sonja had taken what she considered hers. He’d erased most of the fussier accents that had her stamp, too.

“This is...really nice,” Anna said in a stifled voice.

“Thank you.” He showed her the family room, which was nearest to the front door but having French doors that could be closed to contain noise, then led her to the kitchen, open to the living and dining areas. He didn’t use the room designed to be a home office on this level, preferring one upstairs that had a lake view. There were empty bedrooms upstairs, too. He kept those doors closed to keep the house from feeling any lonelier than it already did.

The tour continued upstairs to Molly’s bedroom. Anna’s discomfiture hadn’t abated, and neither had her kids’. Even Jenna had been struck silent, which he had the impression wasn’t a natural state for her.

Nate’s bedroom was just beyond Molly’s, the door standing open. He saw Anna sneak a peek, and was glad she couldn’t see much from this angle. He surely didn’t want to picture her in his bedroom. Her presence in the house unsettled him enough already, in part because he hadn’t managed to squelch images of her not only in his room, but also in his bed. However, most of his discomfiture was the result of him trying to see his home through her eyes. His guilt revved into a higher gear.

Did she feel like the beggar maid, brought to the palace by King Cophetua? Nice thought. If he’d made a different choice, Anna would still have a husband and her own house.

Assuming, of course, he had made a difference in the day’s outcome instead of paying more attention to texts and emails coming in on his phone than he did to his daughter.

He and Sonja hadn’t split because of his dedication to his job—but it had played a part. Remembering what she’d said about wanting a life still stung, even though he knew damn well she wouldn’t have been happy if he’d decided he could cut back on work and brought home a lower income.

Jenna broke the silence. “I like your bedroom.” Still in the hall, peering into Molly’s room, she sounded wistful. “Can I play with your Barbie house?”

Nate wasn’t sure Molly ever did.

His daughter hesitated. “It’s okay if you’re careful with my stuff.”

“There’s no reason Jenna would be playing in here when she isn’t with you,” Anna said firmly. “Your dad said we’d have our own apartment.”

Molly’s eyes darted to Anna. “But we can play together when I get home from school, can’t we?”

Anna smiled. “Sure.”

“Speaking of the apartment...” he said, sounding like an overenthusiastic tour guide.

Jenna gave a final, lingering look into a pink-and-purple bedroom that was stocked with entirely too many toys. Many Molly had left behind when she moved out with Sonja. He doubted she’d ever touched a lot of the dolls and stuffed animals.

Had he satisfied himself with the notion that if he bought her everything a little girl could want, she wouldn’t notice that Daddy was hardly ever around?

Only one of many uncomfortable realizations he’d been hit with since Molly had come so close to dying.

He wished now he didn’t have to show the Graingers where they’d be staying. The contrast was too stark.

* * *

THE APARTMENT WASN’T BIG, but Anna had sighed in relief when she saw it. It felt...snug. Like a cocoon, a refuge.