Second Time's the Charm. Tara Taylor Quinn
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Clara was crafty—her daughter had come by the talent naturally—he’d give her that. She could be on the warpath again.
After all, as Kate had told him on more than one occasion during the months they’d lived together, Abramses didn’t give up.
He’d pack the bag. Keep it ready in the closet. He’d put aside enough money to get them by on cash for a while if necessary. With the toddler, he’d need diapers and nonperishable food, too. And a warm blanket.
His mind spun, plans forming with a familiar clarity.
Running wasn’t new to Jon.
He’d just been fool enough to hope it was over.
* * *
WITH ONLY A minute to spare to get from the back of the public parking area to the Montford University Student Union, Lillie ran the entire way, thanking her joy of jogging and the serviceable rubber-soled shoes she wore to work for allowing her to sprint half a mile without passing out. She’d texted Jon Swartz, letting him know that she was on her way. She didn’t expect him to leave. She just hated to make people wait.
Spotting him leaning against the trunk of a paloverde tree, she slowed to a walk and took a second to smooth the blouse and jeans she’d put on when she’d changed out of her stained scrubs twenty minutes before. Her hair, in a ponytail, thankfully was still presentable.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, her breath even as she approached.
“No problem. I have an hour.”
Less than that, actually, if he wanted to get to class before it started. At least according to what he’d told her.
Not that it was her business.
Nor were those big brown eyes or the ease with which he held his body. The man was...all man.
And she wasn’t one who generally noticed. Or cared. Except in the most superficial sense.
She would walk away from this meeting and have nothing more to do with him, except as it pertained to his being Abraham’s father. The little guy had been on her mind all week. She couldn’t shake him. Which meant that she had a job to do.
“We can walk toward your class if you’d like,” she said, and without a word, he fell into place beside her. Not too close. But closer than he might have if they hadn’t been on a busy campus sidewalk thronging with students heading to and from classes.
“Bonnie tells me this is your first year at Montford,” she started. She had to get a feel for him if she was going to help him. Her job extended to family support as well as client support. Children needed healthy families.
“That’s right.”
He didn’t sound defensive so she continued. “What are you studying?”
“Premed. I’d like to be a doctor.”
“So you’d transfer after you get your undergraduate degree?”
He shrugged, his satchel riding against his denim-clad hip with ease. “I’ve looked at University of Arizona’s medical school in Tucson, but that’s a long way off. My first consideration is Abraham. He’ll be almost six by the time I graduate. I’m not going to uproot him if he’s settled in. I can always go to medical school when he graduates from high school.”
“So why major in premed?”
He turned, and she had no explanation for what his brown-eyed gaze did to her. “How much do you know about my situation?”
“Not much.” Lillie almost missed a step. Something else she didn’t usually do. “I just know that you’re raising Abraham by yourself. And that your son obviously means a lot to you.”
Jutting his chin, he nodded, his gaze turned in front of them again. His hands in his pockets, he continued to head across campus with the ease of a man who knew where he was going.
“I know that you work at the cactus jelly plant,” she added, wanting to be completely up front with him. The files of the children enrolled at Little Spirits contained the names of their parents’ employers. “And I know that you live in an apartment not far from my house,” she added. The complex was less than a mile from the home she’d purchased the previous year.
“That’s more than I know about you.”
“You’re right, it is. And that can change,” she told him. Her current life was an open book. “I admire what you’re trying to do,” she told him.
Was that why she couldn’t get the two Swartz men off her mind? Why thoughts of little Abe—and his dad—continued to pop up throughout her day?
She hardly knew them.
And here she was pushing services that he clearly didn’t want. Like she needed the work. Which she didn’t.
Another direct glance from him, and she reminded herself to put herself in his shoes, to seek to understand, to listen and find out what he needed so she would know if there was anything she could do. She was not only well trained, she was experienced.
And she knew she could help make his job easier. If he’d let her.
“What exactly is it that you think I’m trying to do?” he asked.
Students jostled against them on both sides, snippets of their conversations filling the air around them. The sun was uncharacteristically absent overhead. Lillie was aware of her surroundings—and not really. The man beside her was an enigma.
“Raising your son, getting a degree and working. It’s admirable.”
“It’s life,” he said. “I fathered a child. I was offered a scholarship—a chance to better myself—and I have to work to buy diapers.”
“Right. You didn’t have to accept the scholarship.”
Another glance. Were they growing sharper? “You’re kidding, right? You’d expect me to turn my back on an opportunity to be able to provide my son with more advantages as he grows up?”
“Of course not! I’m not saying I thought you should have passed it by. I’m saying that many people in your situation wouldn’t have dared to accept the opportunity.”
“Oh.”
“Especially since you have to work, too.”
“The scholarship actually provides living expenses, but only for one. And in addition to Abe’s living expenses, I have to pay extra for the student health benefits that are provided to me to cover my son.”
“Like I said, I think what you’re doing is admirable.”
“I don’t want to be admired.”
She was missing the boat on this one. And running out of time.
“I want to help you.” Bonnie paid her to help children adapt to day care life. Not to help single fathers raise their children.
But she knew she could make a difference here. Abe was a motherless baby boy who could benefit from her services and she didn’t care about being paid.
“I don’t need help.”
“Hey—” Slowing, she touched his wrist and stepped out of the flow of traffic on the sidewalk. He followed her, standing facing her, both hands in his pockets. “I’m not judging you, Jon.” And then quickly added, “May I call you that?”
“Of course.”
“Call me Lillie.”
“Fine.” He glanced over her shoulder. Presumably at the sidewalk they’d left. He seemed eager to be on his way, but still had time before he was due in class.
“Have you ever worked with a child life specialist before?”
“Never heard of one until yesterday.”
“Which