was possible that she might have sent Tyler off to school, too, but then they would have laughed about the incident together and reassured one another that no harm had been done. He missed that most of all—the talking, the sharing, the assurance that no matter what challenges they faced, they would get through them together. Losing his wife so suddenly and unexpectedly was tough. Being a single parent was sometimes even tougher.
As he packed up Tyler’s knapsack, he considered checking in with Caitlin while he was at the school. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was almost time for the third period bell to ring, so he could probably catch her between classes. But he was pretty certain his twelve-year-old daughter would be mortified to find her father hanging out by her locker and left a note for her instead so she would know she didn’t have to look for her brother before she got on the bus to come home at the end of the day.
He called Carrie from the road to tell her he wouldn’t be returning to the office that afternoon. After querying whether he had chicken soup and soda crackers at home, she assured him she could handle anything that cropped up in his absence. Steven knew that it was true and could only hope to find a photographer as efficient and reliable as his assistant.
Unbidden, an image of Samara Kenzo came to mind. Efficient and reliable weren’t the most obvious words to describe his sister-in-law’s friend, though she’d certainly made an impression. Her résumé had piqued his interest, her appearance had snagged his full attention. Stunning eyes, sexy mouth, tempting curves. It was entirely possible that she could prove to be efficient and reliable, but Steven was more worried that she could also be a dangerous distraction.
He pushed these discomfiting thoughts from his mind as he pulled into the driveway. His son’s unnatural pallor and clammy skin made him wonder if he should have stopped at the local clinic on the way home instead of relying on the principal’s assurance that there was a nasty—albeit short-lived—flu bug going around. The thought continued to worry his mind as he opened a can of chicken soup and dumped it into a pot to heat on the stove.
Tyler managed only a few spoonfuls and a couple of crackers before racing to the bathroom to throw it all back up again.
Steven hovered in the background, feeling completely helpless, while his son retched. He tried to remember what Liz had done when the kids were sick, but the fact was, she’d handled everything so competently and efficiently, he’d hardly noticed. Digging deeper back into his memory, he vaguely recalled his mother setting a cool washcloth on his forehead and giving him flat ginger ale to drink. There was only 7UP in the fridge, but he thought that might work and poured some into a glass for Tyler after settling him on the couch with a bucket close at hand.
Missing work to care for a sick child was yet another new experience for him. Though both Caitlin and Tyler had endured the usual bouts of colds and flu that plagued all children as well as suffering through nasty cases of chicken pox, it was Liz who had nursed them through every childhood illness, Liz who had kissed away their tears and soothed their spirits. And Steven guessed that, as much as he was missing Liz right now, Tyler was missing her even more.
He slid The Phantom Menace into the DVD player and sank down onto the sofa beside his son.
He was surprised, but pleased, when Tyler shifted closer to cuddle and pillow his head against his father’s chest.
“This is my favorite,” Tyler said, when the movie title flashed on the screen.
Steven lifted an arm and slid it around his son’s slender shoulders. “I know.”
The little boy snuggled closer, but when he spoke again, his voice had dropped. “Mom used to watch Bugs Bunny cartoons with me whenever I was sick.”
Yeah, Tyler was missing her, too. “Did you want me to see if I can find some on TV?”
His son gave a slight shake of his head. “This is okay.”
Steven took ‘okay’ as a positive endorsement and accepted that he would just have to figure things out as he went along.
“Guess I should have listened when you told me you had a tummy ache this morning, huh?”
Tyler nodded solemnly.
“I’m sorry, bud.”
“S’okay, Daddy. Mrs. Harper says we all make mistakes.”
It took him a moment to remember that Mrs. Harper was Tyler’s homeroom teacher. “Do you like Mrs. Harper?”
Another nod, then a yawn.
“And your new school?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“You’ve made some friends?”
“James and Aidan and Andrew and Marcus and Nick and Jake and—”
Steven interrupted the list with a chuckle. “I didn’t hear you mention any girls’ names.”
Tyler wrinkled his nose. “The girls are okay, I guess.”
“You’re not still mad that we moved from North Carolina?”
“I was never mad—just sad that we had to leave Grandma Warren and Grandma and Grandpa Bradley.” His voice dropped a little. “And Mommy.”
Liz was buried at Pleasantview Cemetery in Crooked Oak. Steven had been sure to take the kids to visit her grave whenever they wanted to visit their mom, but that trip was obviously a lot more difficult now and an event that would, therefore, occur a lot less frequently.
“Caitlin was mad,” Tyler continued, a reminder that was hardly necessary.
“Do you think she still is?”
His son lifted one bony shoulder in a halfhearted shrug and yawned again.
Despite the movie being Tyler’s admitted favorite, he was conked out before the podrace even began. And while Steven knew there were a hundred things he could be doing while his son slept, at the moment, none of them was as important as cuddling with his child.
Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed sharing this kind of closeness with his children, and he was suddenly, painfully, aware that as his children got older, the opportunities for doing so would be fewer and farther between. Even at nine, Tyler wasn’t much of a cuddler, except when he was sad or tired or feeling ill, so Steven had no qualms about taking advantage of this opportunity.
He brushed a hand over his son’s thick, dark hair—a legacy from the Warren side of the family along with his blue eyes and broad shoulders. But the shape of his face, the curve of his lips and the long, thick lashes came from his mother, and every time he looked at his son, he caught a glimpse of the woman he’d loved. A glimpse that was both painful and reassuring, because though she was gone from his life forever, she would always live on in the children who were the best parts of both of them.
Samara scoured the classified ads, searched the Internet and pounded the pavement, and the best job prospect she could find—aside from the position at Classic, of course—was at a photo studio in one of the big department stores. Not quite what she was looking for, but she filled out an application anyway. She needed a job or she’d end up on Jenny and Richard’s doorstep again, and her friends had already done so much for her.
She
