boy looked up, squinting into the sun. “Did you live here then?”
“I only visited during the summer.”
“Are you and Mr. Dixon friends?”
“Yes.” So far the only one he had in Blackwater Lake. As far as Jill was concerned, C.J. didn’t count.
“Can you teach me how to skip rocks?” he asked eagerly.
“I can show you. Then it’s just practice to get the hang of it.”
“Forget it, then. I’ll never get good.” C.J. kicked at the rocky shore with the toe of a sneaker. “I’m not s’posed to be here alone. But Mom never has time to watch me.”
“She has a lot of responsibility.” He could relate. Jill was a single mom, but Adam had two parents, and their demanding careers had left little time to spend with a boy who wanted to play. He’d been turned over to others to be supervised, then spent summers here. As an adult he understood, but thank goodness for those summers. “But I’m here now.”
“You can watch me?”
“Yeah.” He picked up another stone and demonstrated the proper way to hold it, between thumb and forefinger. “It’s all in the wrist.”
C.J. watched as he threw it and said, “Let me try.”
They worked on the skill for five minutes, which is about all the attention span a six-year-old has. After that the boy used the rocks like a depth charge, aiming for the fish darting around just below the surface.
“I’m a mighty hunter,” he said, moving so close the water almost lapped over his shoe.
Adam was ready to grab him if there was a chance he’d fall in. “Do you have a fishing pole?”
“Not yet. Mom says when I’m seven.”
“When’s that?”
“When it gets cold.”
He remembered Jill telling him that the doctor had left as soon as it turned cold. Had he been there for the kid’s birthday or skipped out before? She’d said she wouldn’t allow her son’s heart to be broken again, which meant he’d already been hurt once. That sucked.
“Does it hurt the fish when you hook ’em?”
Probably, Adam thought. But he didn’t want to tell the boy that. The crunch of footsteps behind them saved him from having to answer, but the look on Jill’s face told him he wasn’t saved from anything else.
“Uh-oh,” C.J. said. “It’s my mom.”
Uh-oh, indeed.
“I’m very disappointed in you, C.J.”
Adam knew from personal experience that the disappointment card was the biggest gun in the parental arsenal. But a safety rule had been broken.
“Are you mad, Mom?”
“Do I look mad?” Her voice was deadly quiet and calm. Shouting would have been easier to take.
C.J. studied her expression. “No?” he asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “You disobeyed a direct order right after we talked about it.”
Adam looked from her to C.J., knowing she’d just taken the “I forgot” defense out of play.
“There has to be consequences, kiddo.”
“Am I grounded?”
“I have to think about this,” she said.
“While you’re thinkin’,” he said, rubbing a finger along the side of his nose, “remember Ty’s birthday party is in a week.”
“Thank you for reminding me,” she said.
It was that quiet voice that finally got to Adam. He couldn’t just stand there and say nothing. “Look, Jill, it’s Saturday and the sun is out. Awfully tough for a guy to be cooped up indoors. I was here—”
“About that,” she said, her tone edging up. She looked at her son. “Run up to the store and get a drink of water, C.J. I need to talk to Adam.”
For just a second he teetered on the verge of argument, then just nodded. Without a word he trudged back up the path and disappeared through the door to the marina store.
“Jill, don’t take it out on him. I’m the one you’re really mad at.”
Her brown eyes darkened with anger. “I made it clear that letting him get attached to you isn’t an option. Water safety isn’t the only issue here. It’s my job to look out for him emotionally, too.”
“And I made it clear that I wouldn’t hurt him.”
“Talk is cheap.” The breeze blew a strand of hair across her eyes and she angrily brushed it away.
“I was just keeping him company—in the spirit of helping someone out,” he said.
“I don’t need that kind of help. When he gets attached to you and is left behind—”
“I’m going to be a part of this community where people look out for one another.” He hadn’t planned to defend himself, but hearing about the last doctor was getting old. “Blackwater Lake is a place where neighbors pitch in. It’s what you did for Maggie. That’s all I was doing with C.J.”
“I look out for him,” she said.
“So you can be there for a friend, but I can’t? Smacks of a double standard to me.”
“That’s because you’re not a single mom.” She nodded for emphasis, then turned away and walked back up the path after her son.
Adam watched her stiff back and not for the first time he thought she had a little too much spine. Bending a little would do her good, and he was just the guy who could outstubborn her.
That’s when it hit him that instead of diminishing his fascination for her, the arm’s length she was trying to put between them just intrigued him more. It was all kinds of bad because relationships were not his specialty. So far he’d been less than successful in staying uninvolved, and one wrong move could cost him the community approval he needed to make this career move and the life he wanted a success.
Now that he had a diagnosis, it was time to come up with the treatment. So far, he had nothing.
Potter’s Ice Cream Parlor was hosting a fundraiser for Blackwater Lake High School’s football team, and Jill had just finished her two-hour volunteer shift. She was grateful for the break because her hands ached from nonstop scooping. It was standing-room only except for Maggie Potter. Her early labor pains were under control, but she was under obstetrician’s orders to stay off her feet and was sitting at a table for two in the center of the room. Her job was to collect cash donations from folks who were watching their calories but still wanted to help
