“What is your tree house for now, sweetie?”
“Emergencies. They talked all about it on television. You need a disaster kit just in case your house gets bombed.”
Rowena did a double take. “Bombed?”
“I saw it on the news. These houses all smashed up. The man said it was a bomb.”
Rowena stroked the child’s hair. “It was an awful, terrible thing that happened. But those bombs fell in a country far away. It’s not going to happen to you.” Charlie didn’t seem comforted. Instead she crammed herself back deeper into the corner of the unfinished framing.
“Those houses fell down on soldiers, you know. And policemen just like my daddy.”
“Oh, Charlie.”
“It’s okay,” Charlie insisted. “If anything happens I’m all ready to save him now. See?” From the cover of leaves she pulled out a green plastic tub. “Mommy used to put pretend flowers and stuff in it, but she doesn’t want anything in our house anymore. Not her flowers. Or Daddy. Or Mac and me.”
“You don’t know that, sweetheart.”
“Daddy said she got a divorce.”
“That’s between your daddy and mommy. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“That’s a lie.” Charlie regarded her doubtfully. “We’re the ones that don’t have a mommy anymore.”
Rowena could hardly argue with that. She swallowed hard. “Will you show me what’s inside your box?”
Charlie popped open the tub’s lid, rummaging around. Rowena looked inside the container herself, her heart aching. She knew where all Cash’s bandages had gone. Boxes and boxes of them crowded against a stockpile of canned goods. A flashlight complete with extra batteries lay atop an old blanket. The stethoscope from a toy doctor kit nestled up in a corner. A cupcake was starting to mold against its cellophane wrapper.
Charlie held up a shrink-wrapped rawhide dog bone that had been stowed amongst her provisions. “I put this in when we brought Clancy—I mean Destroyer—home. I guess the regular old bandages will work on dogs, too, if you can make them stick to all that hair. I asked Mr. Google if I can have his cast after the doctor takes it off. He thinks I want to show it to my class, but I really want to put it up here, just in case. I don’t know how to make casts.”
“Sweetheart, if somebody needs a cast we’ll take them to the doctor.”
Charlie selected a can of corn from among the foodstuffs and bottled water she had stored there. She handed the corn to Rowena. “Mac’s got lots of doctors. They didn’t make her well. Maybe I’d have a better chance if I tried it myself. I’ve been getting books about doctors. It’s okay I took them. They say ‘free take one’ on that rack thing they’re in.”
She grabbed a pamphlet from her stash and put it in Rowena’s hand. “They’ve got lots of stuff to read. Books with pictures of brains and your spinal cord. It’s like a snake that goes all the way down your back and has these little spiky things sticking out. And if somebody breaks it you can’t move your arms or legs or anything. Did you ever feel your head to see if it’s hard enough not to let your brain get broken?”
“Nope. I never have. But my dad used to say I’ve got the hardest head in the family, so I figure I’m okay.” Rowena tapped her fist lightly on Charlie’s head in hopes of teasing a smile from her. “I bet you’re safe, too.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I wish…” Rowena’s voice trailed off. What could she say to this worried little soul? I wish I could make everything better for you? I wish I could fix your little sister and make your daddy smile again the way he did in that picture with you. I wish you would never have to think of things like tidal waves and car accidents and mommies who leave you behind. But there were things Rowena couldn’t fix, couldn’t change, no matter how much she wished she could.
“Rowena?” Charlie slipped a small hand into hers, curled those warm fingers tight around Rowena’s. “Know what?”
“What, honey?”
“I wish I had leg braces instead of Mac.”
Rowena’s throat felt tight. “It’s wonderful you love your sister that much.”
A tiny crease dented Charlie’s brow as if she were trying to puzzle out what Rowena said.
“That you’d take Mac’s pain away if you could,” Rowena explained.
“That’s not what I meant,” Charlie said. “It’s just that if I were hurt like Mac, my daddy would see me again. See, ’cause when your sister gets braces, you get invisible.”
Rowena swallowed hard. She pictured Cash’s tormented features, his exhaustion, his battle, trying to will his child to walk. She remembered the pictures she’d seen on the wall—Charlie, obviously Daddy’s girl—building tree houses, hanging from jungle gyms, camping out in the make-believe wilderness of the backyard.
“Your daddy loves you, Charlie,” Rowena said, knowing it was true.
“Well…you never know,” Charlie said, and Rowena knew the little girl must be thinking of her mother.
“Rowena?” Charlie scooted over, as close to Rowena as she could. The little girl leaned up against her. She looked so small it broke Rowena’s heart. “You know what scares me most?”
Rowena tucked Charlie safe in the curve of her arm. “What?”
Big eyes peered up at her. “Someday I’ll get so invisible nobody will ever see me again.”
“WE’VE GOT A PROBLEM,” Cash warned as he walked into the kitchen, slinging his dark brown jacket on the back of the nearest chair. That change alone, from the king of organization, should have set warning bells ringing in Rowena’s head.
“Some rescheduling snafu?” Rowena asked as he set down the thermos he took to work every day filled with coffee. “Don’t tell me some other poor deputy caught chicken pox from his kids.”
At least that was one danger Cash wasn’t in. When she asked if he’d had the disease he’d laughed and said with five brothers there was no escape. His mother had battled itchy sores and boys spoiling for a fight for almost two months by the time the house in Chicago had been pox-free.
“No. Looks like Rasmussen was the only lucky SOB to get that. We all got together at the office and sent him a Teddy Bear gram. This person dressed up in a bear suit delivers a bouquet of sugar cookies and sings the chicken pox song. I keep hoping it’ll distract everybody from the fact I brought that damned dog home. It’s somebody else’s turn to get the devil tormented out of them.”
If only another round of teasing was all Rowena had in store for him, her task would be a whole lot easier. She squirmed inwardly at the memory of Charlie’s revelation in the tree house an hour before.
As problems went, she figured she had a far bigger one to discuss than he did. But she wasn’t going to hit the guy with it the moment he walked through the door. Feed him first, her instinct said, then talk to him about the little girls who were playing out in the backyard.
“If complications from chicken pox are out of the running for trouble of the day, what’s the deal? You’ve got a problem besides burned macaroni and cheese and hot dogs that exploded in the microwave?” She dished up a scoop of her latest creation. “Don’t worry. I scraped most of the black stuff off the bottom of the pan. I think I owe you a new one, though.” She indicated the pot soaking in the sink. “I was just about ready to blow taps.”
“A military funeral, huh?” Cash eyed it and grimaced. “You should have seen the casualties around here when I first started cooking. I even managed to set the oven on fire that first Christmas Eve. It had been so long since I’d cooked anything in the oven, a mouse had stored dry cereal under a panel inside it. When I turned the damned thing on the whole house filled with smoke.”
“Okay. You win. That’s a way better cooking disaster story than mine. Of course, this is only my first attempt. I still might beat the pants off you.” Rowena cringed. Oops. Way wrong thing to say.
He looked flustered himself, as if he were considering the same thing she was. He hooked his thumb b
ehind his belt buckle, as if to make sure it was fastened up tight.
It was. No chance of an instant replay of the shower scene here. Too bad it wasn’t on a tape where she could just hit Rewind. For pity’s sake, Rowena! You said you weren’t having sex with the man! Bryony’s scolding ran through her mind.
I said I wasn’t having sex with him. I didn’t say I wasn’t thinking about it.
“So what’s this problem?” she asked, trying not to notice the way the muscles of his forearms rippled as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled them to his elbows one at a time.
“The school called.” Cash grabbed a scraper and raked it across the burned patch on the bottom of the pot.
“What’s wrong?” Rowena was almost afraid to ask. Had Charlie confided her secret to her teacher? Rowena knew Charlie felt disconnected even from her own best friend. No matter how the subject of Charlie’s troubles was broached to Cash, Rowena knew it would devastate him.
For an instant she hoped she wouldn’t have to be the one to tell him about the tree house, Charlie’s fears—fears seen through a child’s eyes, and yet heartbreakingly real.
How did you tell a man who was fighting to keep his head above water that his best wasn’t good enough? And no matter how Rowena couched the words, that was exactly what she’d be telling him.
She swallowed hard. “Is it Charlie?”
Cash abandoned the pot and turned to look at her, his big hands glistening wet. “How did you know?”
I found all those bandages you’re missing. And by the way, did you notice that Charlie’s invisible?
“Chalk another one up to intuition.”
Cash frowned. “I thought we agreed none of that psycho-garbage around here.”
“It’s not psycho, it’s psychic, really. And I’m not, I’m simply good at—never mind. Just tell me what’s up.”
Cash grabbed a towel and dried off his hands. “The kids’ bus driver called me at work. Destroyer got loose and was at the bus stop today.”
“That’s impossible.” Rowena crossed to the back door and peered out to where Charlie and the dog were curled up at the foot of the tree, a book on the child’s lap. “He was fenced in out back the whole time. I let him out before we left the house this morning. I sent Charlie off to her stop and then waited for Mac’s bus with her. Once I got her loaded on, I came back in the house and let him in. Really, Cash. He was right here by the back door, waiting for me to load him in the van to head to the shop.” She tried to untangle the mystery. “Maybe there’s another Newfoundland in the neighborhood.”
“Trust me. I would have noticed.”
“Well, it wasn’t Clanc—I mean, Destroyer!” Dread pulled at Rowena, Cash’s warning the day he’d agreed to take the dog home resonating inside her. The first sign of trouble and back he goes… She could only imagine what that loss would do to Charlie. “Destroyer.” She all but spat the word. “That’s a terrible name! Talk about your self-fulfilling prophecies! Ask Charlie! She’ll tell you it wasn’t him at the bus stop.”
“Charlie gave this mystery dog of yours a big kiss before she got on the bus.”
“But—but he was in the back yard,” Rowena insisted helplessly. “I swear it!”
“The bus driver said that dog’s been out there every school-day for the past week. Just sits there with the kids, watching until he pulls up. And when the kids load onto the bus, it’s like the dog’s counting them.”
Was that a smile cracking Cash’s face? Rowena wondered in amazement. “Somehow I wouldn’t have thought you’d find this funny,” she said.
The watts on his smile spiked up, making Rowena’s heart flutter. She turned her back to him to hide her reaction to it.
“It’s something the bus driver said,” Cash crossed to the door, flattened one hand against it. A shiver of awareness rippled through Rowena as she felt the heat of him, caught the subtle scent of him as he leaned close to look over her shoulder into the yard. “When the driver tried to shoo the dog away, Destroyer gave him this long-suffering look as if to say ‘I know you’re supposed to be in charge here, but after all, you’re only human. I’d rather keep track of the kids myself.’”
“Cash, really,” Rowena argued. “You’ve got a chainlink fence out back. What’s the dog going to do? Pole vault over it?”
“I don’t know.” Cash’s warm breath stirred the wisps of hair clinging to her neck, and she wondered what it would be like if he lowered his mouth to that tender skin. “All I can tell you is that Destroyer gives me that very same look every night when I tuck the girls in bed.”
Rowena closed her eyes, imagining Cash pulling the covers up to his daughters’ chins, kissing their foreheads. A ritual he’d performed alone for so long. It made her feel better somehow, knowing that now he had someone else to share that time with. She turned to look into Cash’s face, saw the sudden vulnerability in the curve of his mouth. He was so close, and yet, so very far away.
“Destroyer loves the girls,” Rowena said, feeling a little breathless.
“He does. At least that’s one thing we have in common.”
Cash lifted a strand of Rowena’s hair, ran it between his fingertips. He peered down at the golden strands as if they held the secrets of the world, his nostrils flaring slightly.
Rowena sucked in a steadying breath, knowing that all she had to do was tip her head just a little to kiss those fingers. Would that make it easier to tell him what he needed to know? Cushion the painful truth she had to tell him?
No. No matter how much she believed in the healing power of touch, Cash would see it as something darker, a betrayal that held the potential of hurting his girls. And how could she blame him? In a few more weeks, her time in the Lawless house would be over. Clancy—alias Destroyer—would hopefully be part of the family. She’d have fixed things as much as her gift allowed her to. And then, she’d do exactly what her gift required of her. Walk away to find the next creature she could love to a brighter future.
“Cash, there’s something you need to know,” she began, trying to tame the catch in her voice. “It’s about Charlie.”
His questioning gaze caught hers. “Charlie?”
The sharp ring of the telephone made them spring apart as if they’d been struck by lightning.
Rowena rubbed her neck, as if to obliterate the trails of heat his breath had left on her skin.
“It’s probably someone trying to sell you siding,” she said with false brightness. “I’ll get it. You go see the girls.”
“But what about—”
“It’ll keep.” She all but shoved him out the door, glad for a reprieve, time to catch her breath, sort out the emotions racketing inside her, time to form her words in a way that would do the least harm.
She heard the Newfie’s deep woof of greeting, Charlie’s more solemn hello and Mac’s shriek of delight.
Rowena snagged the phone, put it to her ear. “Lawless residence.”
No answer.
“Hello?” Rowena said.
“Where’s Cash?” a woman’s voice, sultry and cultured, demanded without preamble.
“Who wants to know?”
“Just tell him it’s Lisa.”
His ex-wife? Rowena tensed. Hadn’t she guessed as much the moment she’d heard the woman’s voice? So this was the woman who had abandoned Mac and Charlie for the past two years, who had divorced Cash.
The woman Mrs. Delaney had defended, saying that leaving might have been the only way Lisa Lawless could survive.
“Who are you?” Lisa Lawless demanded.
Rowena felt her temper prickle, and yet—it couldn’t be comfortable, hearing a female voice in your ex-husband’s house, no matter what the circumstances of the divorce. And it wouldn’t do any good to alienate the woman within the first two minutes of opening her mouth.
“I’m the babysitter,” Rowena explained.
“You don’t sound like Vinny to me.”
“I’m not. I’m just filling in.”
<
br /> Rowena looked outside to where father and daughters were playing now. Cash with Mac on his shoulders, Charlie, her book placed neatly on the picnic table, was now pumping her legs in the swing. In spite of the girls’ obvious pleasure, Rowena could see the stiffness in Cash, knew he was trying to puzzle out what she’d been about to tell him.
“I’d like to talk to Cashel now,” Lisa said impatiently.
“Cashel? Uh, right. Cash.” Rowena asked her to hold, went to the door and opened it. She fought to keep her voice steady as she called out. “Cash, the phone. It’s for you.”