the older man turned his left side toward the direction he’d been pointing. His tongue rolled inward while the rest of his body remained still. Grant stood, holding the brush. One minute. Two. Sweat beaded on Darin’s upper lip. The injured man’s brow was creased and his gaze trained on his left arm. He took a couple of deep breaths.
And the arm moved. Just like that. Not much. An inch at most. But...
Throwing the brush up in the air, Grant said, “You did it!” and rushed over to grab Darin’s arms. “You did it, bro!”
Darin smiled, but looked off to the distance. “Can I go for my walk now?” he asked, seemingly more harried than happy.
“Of course. No farther than the park, though, okay?”
“Just the park,” Darin said, his voice lifting a bit as he strode off.
And Grant wondered if this was what it felt like when a man sent his kid off for his first campout without him.
* * *
HER CONCUSSION PATIENT was progressing nicely. Not even a headache to speak of. Lynn had a call just before she’d left the office on Monday saying that the woman had attended her first group counseling session and, it was discovered, was an incredible seamstress. She was already at work stitching up some tank-style summer dresses from patterns and fabric that had been donated to the Stand.
Missy, the twenty-seven weeks pregnant resident whose husband had thought a wedding ring gave him the right to take his panic and frustration out on his wife’s body, was doing better, as well. No more signs of spotting. And an examination showed that everything was as it should be. She’d released Missy to normal activity and was eager to get home to Kara. It had been a long day.
She heard the squeal and recognized her daughter’s voice before she saw them. Maddie was sliding down the slide at the park with Kara settled securely between her knees. The playground had been designed for the underage residents at the Stand, most of whom were there with their mothers, many of whom had suffered physical abuse as well as the trauma of living in a fear-based home. “Again!” The curly-haired charmer clapped when they reached the bottom.
Just as Lynn was about to approach, to put an end to the day’s fun and get her little one home for her bath and a quick story before bed, she noticed the man who appeared from the other side of the slide.
“I’ll take her over to you again,” the voice said, a strange combination of masculine capability and little-boy tone. Darin Bishop. The man held Maddie’s hand with his good one, and walked her to the back of the slide. He waited while Maddie climbed the steps and sat. Then he stood with his hands an inch from Kara as she climbed up to where Maddie could reach her.
Ducking behind a tree, Lynn watched for another couple of seconds. She could go back to her house, meet Maddie there as planned.
“You should count.” Darin’s voice carried easily. “One...two...three...go!”
“One...two...three...go!” Maddie repeated, and Kara squealed.
The same sound that had attracted Lynn’s attention in the first place. She wasn’t needed here. Which left her with a rare few moments to herself.
Heading toward her bungalow about a block away across perfectly manicured grounds, Lynn walked the sidewalk that trailed through the grounds, saying hello as she passed a couple of residents, waving to a mother and her two children who’d checked in the week before and thanking the fates that had allowed her to meet a man like Brandon—one who was still kind and protective, even after they were no longer a couple.
Her sister, Katie, her aunt Evelyn, who’d been killed by an abusive husband before Lynn had been born...they hadn’t been so lucky.
And they were the reason Lynn had originally begun volunteering at the Stand. Dr. Zimmer had told her about the place after she’d taken personal leave to fly to Denver and help her mom and dad move Katie’s things out of the five-bedroom home her sister had owned with her ex-husband.
Brandon had been the exact opposite of her brother-in-law. Instead of looking to Lynn for what she could do for him, he’d given her everything that he could give. He’d given her Kara. And the chance to go to grad school and get her certified midwife certificate so she could spend her life exactly as she wanted to spend it—giving to others.
It wasn’t his fault that she’d lost her sexual allure where he was concerned....
“Hey! I was beginning to wonder if you’d left the planet!”
Spinning around, her heart beating a rapid tattoo, Lynn faced the man she’d been trying not to think about. She’d been succeeding, too.
Sort of.
“Grant!” she said, waiting for him to catch up to her. “I just saw Darin over at the park. I wondered where you were.” Or rather, had avoided letting herself wonder by focusing on what mattered. Kara. Their good luck. Their lives.
“Just finished my first round of the grounds,” he said, facing her on the sidewalk as he motioned toward the trailer in the grass, barely visible through the island of trees just behind him. “I’ve got to haul that stuff to the dump still tonight, but was waiting for Darin to show up. He went for a walk.”
“He’s over at the park,” she said. “With Maddie and Kara. I can take you there....”
“I know where the park is,” Grant said, grinning at her. “I spent two days this week getting to know it intimately.”
Was that innuendo intentional? “Of course,” she said, choosing to avoid any possible flirtation. “I’m sorry, I... I’ve been busy,” she improvised. Busy avoiding him.
“It’s certainly busy around here,” he said, his gloves in one hand tapping against his leg. “I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t.” Lynn glanced around them, looking for escape.
“If you’ve got a minute, I’d like to tell you about an idea I had for the Garden of Renewal.”
Maddie and Kara were still playing, enjoying themselves, thinking she’d be with her patients a while longer. Even if they went back to the house, Maddie would stay with Kara until Lynn got home. And if it was past her bedtime, she’d call to make sure someone else was with them. Maddie didn’t spend the night unsupervised. Meanwhile, Grant was talking about removing the gazebo from the Garden of Renewal and replacing it with benches interspersed throughout the three-acre haven of beautiful growth.
“That way women can have alone time if they need to find renewal from within, or have more personal one-on-one conversations if they’re there with someone else.”
She stared at him. He’d only been there a week. And he understood.
“I never liked the gazebo,” she said. But it had been donated. And there before she’d arrived.
“I think it would be put to better use in the park area,” he said. “That’s a more public gathering place. Unless I’ve misunderstood. But the garden area, it seems to be more of a place to find peace, quiet. Not to gather socially.”
“That’s right.”
He
