Finding Family...and Forever?. Teresa Southwick
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to you, Emma. I hope we’ll see you in the diner.”
“Maybe.”
She watched the other woman walk away and knew this perfect, happy baby had been a reminder of what was taken from her. At first, she’d been bubbly and outgoing, then they started talking about Kyle. That had made her withdraw. Apparently, she’d learned to cope with the loss and had come to terms with it.
Seeing the change convinced Emma that she was right to keep her identity to herself. She was a grown-up now and couldn’t give the woman back the baby girl she used to be. Shaking up Michelle Crawford’s world all over again just didn’t seem like the right thing to do.
* * *
Justin walked up his front steps and realized he was whistling. He didn’t whistle; he’d never whistled. And it had nothing to do with a radio tune looping in his head because he’d been listening to news on the way home from the clinic. He realized it was a symptom of a condition he hadn’t experienced for a long time. It was called happiness.
Part of the reason was seeing his son content. Growing and thriving in this place that couldn’t be more different from Beverly Hills. The other part was about the woman who was making sure his son was happy.
Emma Robbins.
Just thinking her name produced an image of her in his mind, and the vision was enough to make his senses quiver with anticipation. If she had a flaw, he couldn’t see it. Not only was she easy on the eyes, she took care of Kyle as if he were her own. And she was a great cook. Her inclusion into the household had been seamless.
He jogged up the steps to the front door and unlocked it, then stepped inside. “I’m home.”
Justin felt an irrational impulse to add “honey.” Maybe it was time for a mental health professional to join the staff at Mercy Medical Clinic. A shrink would have a field day with him. Diagnosis: unreasonable romantic feelings where there weren’t any because he was obsessed with having an intensely loving and respectful relationship like the one his parents had enjoyed.
His first marriage had been a failure, which meant he’d already screwed up any chance of following in his mom and dad’s footsteps. That wasn’t a failure he wanted to repeat, but it was hard to remember why when he looked at Emma’s mouth.
“We’re in the kitchen,” she called out.
“On my way.”
Just the sound of her voice, which was two parts silk and one part gravel, made him want to start whistling again. He held back as he walked to his home office and put his laptop on the desk. Then he joined them at the dinner table where Emma sat beside Kyle, who was in the high chair.
“Daddy’s home,” she said to the boy.
“Da—” He didn’t look up, too deep in concentration. With tiny thumb and forefinger he picked up a pea and put it in his mouth.
Emma clapped her hands at the accomplishment. “Good job.”
The boy grinned at her praise, and then went after a small piece of cooked carrot.
“I tried to hold off his dinner until you got home,” she explained. “But he was just too hungry.”
“No problem.” The room was filled with tantalizing smells that made him realize Kyle wasn’t the only hungry guy in the family. “What’s for dinner?”
“Rigatoni and meatballs. Salad. Now that you’re here, I’ll cook the pasta.”
“Sounds good. I’ll just visit with this guy while you do that.”
Her only response was a smile that did amazing things to her mouth. One glance was like touching a hot stove and he pulled back, turning his attention to the neutral subject of peas and carrots.
Justin put a few on the plastic tray. “Here you go, buddy.”
“Da—Da—” After slapping both small hands on the vegetables, Kyle rubbed the mushed goo into his hair and over his face.
Justin laughed and said, “Code green emergency.”
Standing at the stove in front of a pot steaming with simmering pasta and another bubbling with marinara and meatballs, Emma glanced over her shoulder. “That means he likes them.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that because wearing food seems counterproductive to the goal.”
“Just wait and see how much he likes my rigatoni and red sauce.”
Justin groaned. “Dear God—”
“Prayer is pointless. Straight upstairs to the bath for him. It’s why messy meals are at night.”
“A good plan.”
“I try.”
She looked over her shoulder to satisfy herself that all was well before sliding her hands into oven mitts. After lifting the boiling pot of pasta, she poured the contents into a colander in the sink and let it drain.
Five minutes later the two of them were eating salad and Kyle was popping pieces of rigatoni into his mouth and smacking his lips.
“I know what you mean, kid. This is really good, Emma.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
For the first time, Justin had a chance to study her. There were shadows in her eyes obscuring the sparkle that he’d come to expect.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes.” She looked up quickly, but her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “Why?”
“Just checking.” He cut a meatball and forked half into his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he asked, “What did you guys do today?”
“Grocery shopping.” Her mouth pulled tight for a second, then she moved lettuce around her plate without eating any.
He wasn’t imagining the tension. “How did that go?”
“Fine.”
Obviously she and Kyle were home safe and sound. The household supplies were replenished, all of which indicated a successful shopping experience. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened. Justin wanted to know what, but since it didn’t appear to have any connection to his son, he had no right to grill her like raw hamburger. For all he knew, it could be about her love life.
The background check hadn’t turned up a significant other, although that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He didn’t like the idea of Emma being in love, but that had nothing to do with Kyle and everything to do with a feeling he’d had little experience with.
Jealousy. He wasn’t proud of it, but there was no denying the truth.
Maybe he’d ask a few questions, after all. “So what did you think of Blackwater Lake’s premier grocery store?”
The expression on her face turned wry. “It’s the only grocery store. And it seemed fine.”
“Kyle wasn’t a problem?”
“Not at all.” She cut a rigatoni and speared half with her fork but didn’t eat it. “How was your day?”
This question had come up every night since she’d taken over from Sylvia, but this time it smacked of changing the subject. There was no subtle way to push harder, so he decided to back off. But he couldn’t resist giving her a taste of her own medicine.
“My day was fine,” he said.
“I’m glad.”
After that, they made small talk while he finished dinner. She ate very little, mostly pushing her food around the plate. When Kyle got grouchy and restless, she jumped at the chance to take him upstairs for a bath.
“I’ll clean up the kitchen,” he said.
“No,