Second Time's the Charm. Tara Quinn Taylor
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screams.
Jon glanced quickly around, fearing that Lillie Henderson would observe this latest display, but only saw unfamiliar faces staring back at them. Some were tinged with curiosity. An older woman on a bench several yards away was frowning.
But there was no sign of Ms. Henderson.
Jon picked the boy up and Abe quieted almost immediately.
“Put him back down,” a soft voice said from directly behind him.
His first instinct—a strong one—was to ignore the child-life-whatever-she-was. He wanted nothing more than to avoid another screaming match in public. He also wasn’t completely convinced that Abe was okay. Something had clearly upset him.
And then he thought about losing Abe. Because the woman who’d just directed him to put his son down might be a spy—someone employed by Abe’s maternal grandmother to observe Jon’s parenting skills.
And even if Lillie wasn’t a spy, she was clearly someone who knew a lot about raising children. He wanted whatever help he could get. He set the boy back on his feet.
Before his feet had even touched the ground, Abe opened his mouth and started to cry again.
And Lillie Henderson was down on her knees in front of him, shaking her head. Abe, apparently startled to see her, quieted enough to hiccup through his sobs. Lillie put a finger on his lips.
“No more screaming, Abe,” she said. “Remember what we talked about? Use your words.”
Abe only had four words. Jon started to tell her so, but figured he’d let her find that out on her own.
The boy studied Lillie’s mouth. His lower lip was still jutting out and quivering, but he wasn’t crying.
“Your Daddy and I—” she turned and smiled up at Jon “—can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”
Yes. That was completely true. And as soon as Abe got old enough to comprehend the concept they’d be home free.
“Instead of screaming, use your words to tell us what’s upset you,” Lillie said. “Okay?”
Abraham nodded. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t give Jon a clue as to what had caused his distress, but the tantrum had apparently passed.
Jon wasn’t as confident that he’d passed the parenting test.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEY SPENT AN hour at the park. Abe tripped over a root and fell and started to cry. Jon picked him up and faced the woman who’d just given up an hour of her day to explain various coping skills to him.
Things he hadn’t found in any of the numerous child-rearing books he’d read. Things like encouraging Abe to use his words, even though he didn’t verbalize any yet. According to Lillie, the boy had a full understanding of language, and they had to give him a reason to vocalize his thoughts.
“Time to go,” he said, looking at Lillie, hoping to hell that she wasn’t a spy. He was grateful to her. “That particular whine means he’s hungry.”
She looked at Abe. “All you had to do was tell Daddy that you want to eat,” she said simply. “Eat.” She drew the word out. Said it again. Abe watched her mouth.
He grinned.
And shoved his fist in his mouth.
“Would you like to join us for a hamburger?” Jon asked, and was shocked when she nodded.
“I’d like that, thanks.”
Twenty minutes later, after a quick diaper change in the front passenger seat of Jon’s small, four-door truck, they were seated across from each other in a booth at the fast-food hamburger place just outside of town. Lillie, who’d followed behind them in her car, had insisted on paying for her own grilled chicken sandwich.
Abe, in a booster seat next to him, was happily shoving French fries in his mouth.
Lillie made a face at the boy. He laughed out loud. She chuckled.
And Jon was struck by how much he was enjoying himself.
Which posed a major problem.
“I have a question,” he said, leaning forward over his opened container with a quarter-pound burger inside.
“Ask anything. That’s what I’m here for.”
“You married?” Not the question he’d meant to ask.
She blinked. “No.”
“You said, the other day, that your life was an open book. I’m apparently not much of a reader. You know about me. I know virtually nothing about you.”
And he wanted to know. Which was why he had to ask her.
“I graduated from Montford eight years ago. I married a business major I met my senior year. I’m divorced. And I’ve been back in Shelter Valley, practicing child life full-time, for the past five years. I live alone and am on call 24/7. My choice. Because that’s the way I like it.”
“No children?”
“No.” Something moved in and out of her expression so quickly he couldn’t make it out. Sadness, maybe.
Had she wanted children?
Or her husband had and she hadn’t?
It seemed kind of strange that a woman who knew so much about kids, and who clearly adored them, didn’t have any of her own.
“That wasn’t my question.”
She grinned. “Whose was it?”
Bowing his head, he tried to hold back his own grin, and lost the battle. “Okay, it was mine. But it wasn’t the one I’d meant to ask. Before. When I told you I had a question.” If he sounded anywhere near as idiotic to her as he sounded to himself, he should just hang his head and go home.
“What’s your question?” Grabbing a napkin, she wiped a drop of ketchup from Abraham’s mouth.
“Are we working?”
Frowning, she took a bite of her sandwich. Chewed and swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Right now. What we’re doing here. Is this work?”
“As opposed to what?” She really seemed confused.
Breaking more pieces of bread and hamburger patty, Jon put them on the paper in front of Abraham.
He felt stupid. “I don’t know. Two people becoming friends...” It sounded as though he was hitting on her. Which he wasn’t. At all. Not that he hadn’t noticed how those jeans of hers hugged her long legs and a backside that— No. He was better than that. “Am I a client? I mean, I know you said I don’t have to pay you, but—”
“I’m happy to help you with Abe, Jon. Don’t worry about it.”
He wasn’t worried, exactly. Except when paranoia set in and he thought she might be a spy. “I’m not too sure about protocol for child life specialists.”
His burger was getting cold. He loved burgers. And since becoming a father he only got one a week.
“Are you allowed to be friends with your clients?”
“Not according to the books,” she said, and then shrugged. “And certainly in some situations, life-threatening medical procedures, for instance, I have to keep my professional distance, but in a small town like Shelter Valley it would be impossible not to be friends with my clients. Most of the parents of young children are my age and I wouldn’t have any friends if I couldn’t be friends with them. Or conversely, I wouldn’t have many patients if I couldn’t tend to the children of my friends. I’ve got a skill set, you know, like a plumber or a doctor. If your pipe bursts and your buddy’s