remembered spending nights alone in her dorm room when she’d been so filled with pain that she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to pull enough air into her lungs to sustain her until morning.
“But you were still you, Lil. A woman with a generous heart who has a special awareness of people and their needs. You’re very perceptive to other people’s feelings,” he added.
“Are you saying I’m no longer generous?”
Reaching across the table, Gayle covered Lillie’s hand. “We’re saying that while you’re busy giving every hour of your life to other people, you aren’t allowing yourself to get close to anyone,” she said.
“We were talking about Jon and Abraham Swartz. About whether or not I’d overstepped a professional boundary by making that absurd agreement with him—trading skill set for skill set. Letting him in my home...”
“And we’re telling you that isn’t even an issue, Lil,” Jerry said, more serious than she’d heard him in a long time. “What you’re doing for that man and his little boy is marvelous. Generous. It’s classic you, understanding that in order for him to accept your help he had to be able to give in kind. My worry is that you had to ask if you were overstepping. Are you really that afraid of letting anyone into your heart?”
“Jerry and I have been worried about you for a while,” Gayle said. “You’ve got a town full of friends, but you don’t let any of them into your heart. At least, not that you tell us about.”
“You two are in there.”
Jerry’s gaze softened, moistened, as he added his hand atop Gayle’s and hers on the table. “And you are first in ours, Lil. Don’t ever doubt that. But you need more than two old folks in your life. You need a partner who is worthy of you. Who will look out for you as much as you look out for him. I’m just worried that if he comes along, you won’t be able or ready to open your heart and let him in.”
Kirk had bolted her heart shut and thrown away the key.
But Papa and Gayle knew that. Lillie was at a loss for words. She’d accepted her lot in life. Had found a way to be happy.
And she didn’t want to screw it up by making a professional mistake from which it would be impossible to recover in a town as small and close-knit as Shelter Valley.
“Have you heard from that damned son of mine?” Jerry asked.
Kirk still worked for his father. But they didn’t socialize.
Or even chat much beyond clients and accounts. And Kirk dropping his son off to spend an occasional day with them.
“No,” Lillie assured him. She didn’t need Papa thinking he had to rake Kirk across the coals another time. It hurt Papa and served no purpose. “Of course not.”
A couple of years before, when Kirk had come to Lillie pressuring her for a change to their divorce decree that would give him more money, Jerry had given his son an ultimatum. If Kirk bothered Lillie again he would be cut off. Period. From the firm and from his inheritance.
“He left Leah,” Gayle said softly.
“I thought they were getting married.” Their son was five now—not that Kirk spent much quality time with the boy, according to Papa and Gayle.
Papa and Gayle did more with him the couple of times a month they saw him then Kirk appeared to.
“He said he didn’t love her enough to marry her.”
Kind of late to be figuring that out. Lillie counted her lucky stars that she’d gotten out before wasting all of the best years of her life with him.
She had to admit, she felt a small thrill of satisfaction, too. Did that mean Kirk really had loved her as much as he’d said he did? He had, after all, married her.
“Maybe if Leah hadn’t let him move in with her, if she hadn’t had his child without expecting anything in return, he would have married her,” she said, just to show Jerry and Gayle that she could speak rationally, unemotionally, about the man who’d ripped her apart at the seams during the darkest hours of her life. To show them that it didn’t matter to her a whit whether Kirk was with Leah, or Kayla or Marcie or anyone.
Jerry and Gayle were like parents to her.
Their son meant nothing.
Period.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BREAKFAST DISHES WERE done, bathroom cleaned—and Jon hadn’t cracked a book open because Abe hadn’t gone down for his nap.
And they had an appointment at Lillie’s that afternoon.
So Jon improvised. The doctor said that Abe’s nap times would change over the next year. If the toddler didn’t want to sleep and wasn’t exhibiting signs of crankiness due to fatigue, then he should give him a chance at staying up.
But Abe still took two naps at the day care—morning and afternoon. Jon should do what he could to stick to the routine.
He compromised. With Abe in his crib, he hauled out the navy duffel that had seen him through many phases of his life. He could afford to replace it but he didn’t care to.
Barbara Bent had given it to him the day she’d told him that she was getting married, planning to have a child of her own and giving up foster care.
He’d been twelve at the time. And had spent the majority of his life in her home.
He’d packed that duffel twice since Abraham was born. He had a system. Knew the ropes. Diapers filled both side pockets—enough to get him through twenty-four hours. They were bigger now, but they still fit. And regardless of whether or not he liked Lillie Henderson, there was a very real possibility that she’d been hired by Clara Abrams to collect enough evidence of his poor fathering skills to persuade the courts that the toddler was better off with his wealthy and well-situated grandparents than he was with a single male with a criminal record.
Jon had learned his lessons the hard way. He wasn’t going to forget them. Or get lazy. He wasn’t going to sit around and let the courts decide his future. Or the future of his son.
If Clara came after them, he’d grab Abe, the bag, and run.
“Uh!”
Abe stood up in his crib, pointing to Jon, asking what he was doing.
Jon’s mouth was forming a reply, something about always being prepared, when he stopped himself. “You want to know what I’m doing?” he asked.
“Uh!” Abe said, reaching toward his father.
“Ask me what I’m dooiinng and I’ll tell you.” Jon enunciated the key word carefully, just as Lillie had done the evening before.
A resealable bag of toiletries—tear-proof shampoo, lotion, body wash, cleaning wipes, thermometer, acetaminophen drops and syrup of ipecac—went in the front pocket.
“Uhhh!” Abe’s voice rose in
