Читать книгу Their Christmas Angel - Tracy Madison - Страница 10
ОглавлениеThe next morning, Parker and the girls were finishing their breakfast, and naturally, the topic of discussion was the night before. His daughters had already reenacted their version of “Daddy almost killing an angel who really turned out to be Miss Bradshaw, the best music teacher ever!” and had now moved on to their sadness that Roscoe hadn’t been located.
Not that they hadn’t tried. Once Nicole had promised those waiting in the auditorium that the tryouts would be rescheduled for next week, she changed out of her angel getup and into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The four of them—Parker, Nicole, Erin and Megan—had then driven at a snail’s pace the two blocks in each direction around the school.
They’d searched for over an hour, to no avail. And Parker would’ve kept on searching, but without so much as a glimpse of the moose-size dog and the difficulty of seeing much of anything in the dark, Nicole insisted that they’d done enough for the night. He hated giving up. He hated the tears he heard in her voice when he dropped her off at her car, back at the school, and they said their goodbyes. But in the end, it was her dog and her choice.
Though, despite her assurances that she was going home, he had an inkling that she’d continued looking on her own and was mainly set on letting him off the hook. Without doubt, his preference was to stay with Nicole and help, but he didn’t argue. Again—her dog, her choice. Besides which, he had the sense that she needed to cry and wouldn’t do so in front of him or his daughters. None of this stopped him from taking one more trip around the school, just in case Roscoe was ready to be found, before he and the girls went home.
If Nicole hadn’t had any better luck once they parted ways, he knew her plan was to phone the various animal shelters the second they opened today. Perhaps she’d already had good news and would shortly be reunited with her dog. He hoped so.
As if reading his mind, Megan said, “Do you think Miss Bradshaw found Roscoe yet?”
“I don’t know, honey. But it would be really great if she has.”
“We should find out, Daddy,” Erin said. “You should call her and ask. Because if she hasn’t, we can draw posters and put them up all over, so people know to watch for him.”
It wasn’t the worst idea Parker had ever heard. Actually, it was a damn good one. He particularly liked the “you should call her” portion of Erin’s suggestion. Supposing, of course, Nicole’s phone number was listed. “You know, I like that plan, kiddo,” he said to Erin. “Why don’t you two grab the art supplies and start on the posters now? That way, if Roscoe hasn’t been found, we save a little time. And I’ll see if I can get a hold of your music teacher.”
“Okay, Daddy!” Erin shot to a stand. “Come on, Megan! Let’s get the markers and glue and glitter and... Oh, but we don’t have any pictures of Roscoe. We don’t really know what he looks like, just that he’s big and brown, so how can we make signs for people to find him?”
“We can use stickers!” Megan said. “We have lots and lots of puppy dog stickers.”
“But we don’t know if Roscoe looks like any of the dogs on those stickers.” Erin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “This won’t work without any pictures of Roscoe.”
“Sure it will,” Parker said, automatically offering encouragement. “Think about the problem for a minute. It’s true that we don’t have any photos of Roscoe, but someone else likely has a ton of pictures. Who might that person be?”
“Miss Bradshaw,” Erin and Megan said at the same time.
“That’s right. And I’m sure she’ll let us pick the best one to use.” Assuming she hadn’t already located her missing pooch. “Then we can make however many copies of it we need and glue them to the signs. Just remember to leave a big enough space in the middle when you’re making them, and we’ll be all set. Do you think that will work?”
“Yes!” Megan jumped to her feet and tugged her sister’s arm. “Let’s go get everything and make the best dog signs ever, Erin. For Miss Bradshaw, so she isn’t sad anymore.”
It didn’t surprise Parker that Megan had tuned in to Nicole’s sadness last night or that she wanted to help alleviate that sadness. Both of his daughters tended to be very aware of the people around them and their moods. Probably due to the last weeks of their mother’s life, when the house had been filled with friends and family wanting to say their goodbyes. And while Megan’s personal recollections of her mother were very sparse—almost, sadly, nonexistent—that didn’t mean the experience itself hadn’t carved into her heart, her soul, and etched an indelible mark.
Some moments, some types of pain, were unforgettable. No matter the age.
Parker repressed a sigh and waited for the girls to climb the steps to retrieve the art supplies from the upstairs hall closet before powering on his laptop. It didn’t take long to ascertain that Nicole’s number was not listed or, perhaps, that her number was so new it had yet to make it to the online directories. There were several other Bradshaws, though, and while Nicole hadn’t mentioned her parents’ first names, she had identified her brother as Ryan.
And thankfully, within the half-dozen Bradshaws that were listed, there was only one Ryan. So, hoping he didn’t come off as a crazy stalker, Parker dialed the number and crossed his fingers that Ryan was home. And that he’d either give Parker his sister’s phone number—doubtful, because if some stranger contacted Parker looking for Daisy, no way, no how would he give out her personal information—or be willing to pass on a message to Nicole.
The man answered almost instantly, and after he got over his surprise and had asked several pointed questions, he promised to contact Nicole on Parker’s behalf. Fifteen minutes later, with the girls avidly focused on their Find this Dog! Please! posters, Parker’s phone rang.
It was Nicole. Anticipation of hearing her voice, of possibly seeing her today, sent his pulse into overdrive and his stomach into a series of wicked fast, hard somersaults. Responses that also reminded him of the early days with Bridget, when she’d consumed his thoughts and he’d gathered every strand of his young man’s courage to ask her out for a date.
Yeah, he liked Nicole. A lot, if his body’s reactions were anything to go by—and of course, they were. He’d acted on those instincts with Bridget.
So why wouldn’t he act on them now?
Parker inhaled a stabilizing breath, grinned at his daughters, who were watching him with expectant, eager eyes, and, doing his level best to keep his voice at an even keel, picked up and answered his phone. To talk to the woman he could not get out of his head.
* * *
Why, oh, why had she agreed to let Parker and his daughters come over? Nicole tugged the window’s curtain to the side and peeked out, anxious to start searching for Roscoe. When she contacted the shelters an hour ago, none of them had any dogs that even remotely resembled him. Now at least they had her information. So if he was brought in and had somehow lost his dog tags, she’d be notified. But oh, was she disappointed.
All she could do was get back on the street and scour every nook and cranny. She’d start at the school, follow the same path they had last night and then branch out in a wider circle, asking anyone she came across if they’d seen Roscoe. Certainly, she’d have better luck today.
Ready to get moving, Nicole gathered her coat, gloves and the picture of Roscoe she’d printed from her computer to show people and put them in a neat pile near the front door before returning to her post at the window.
When Ryan had phoned, his initial questions were about her—how was she, how had Roscoe gotten loose?—and then, after he’d expressed his sorrow and concern, he reminded her that he was heading to Rhode Island for a week to spend time with Andi’s family, but offered to stay and help. She appreciated her brother’s willingness to do so but told him he absolutely shouldn’t alter his plans. And that was when he finally gave her Parker’s message.
As he repeated the conversation he’d had with Parker, electricity and anticipation had zinged through her blood in a potent reminder of her attraction. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that the zing itself had felt nice. Thrilling and liberating and so wonderfully normal. It was that zing, that feeling of normalcy, that led her to return Parker’s call immediately, rather than the more sensible approach of waiting until after she’d put in a few hours searching for her dog.
The sound of his voice, calm, steady and confident, somehow strengthened her flagging hope. He’d asked about Roscoe, naturally, and if she’d made any headway with the shelters. She could hear Megan and Erin in the background, their voices almost a high-pitched squeal in their enthusiasm, begging Parker to ask Nicole their questions.
He did, in a serious manner and one after another, pass on their queries, which consisted of: “How old is Roscoe?” “Is his hair light, medium or dark brown?” “What is his favorite dog treat?” And finally, “What color are Roscoe’s eyes?”
Nicole had given the girls the same information in the car last night, but she answered the questions again in a mix of curiosity, appreciation and good humor. They were sweet kids who obviously wanted to help bring Roscoe home. So Parker’s query if they could stop by and lend their services for the next round of searching didn’t surprise her in the least. Even as she thought the words Thank you, but no, what came out of her mouth was “Yes, if you’re sure.”
Probably, Parker’s reason for extending his hand yet again had more to do with his daughters’ excitement than it did from any true desire of his own. And that was fine. It, in fact, mirrored her primary reason for accepting their assistance. How could she let down two little girls whose hearts were in the right place? She couldn’t. Add in the zing and the intoxicating quality of his voice, and she didn’t even want to decline.
But waiting around for them to arrive while her dog was still missing and running loose somewhere was beginning to take a heavy toll.
Sickness lurched in her stomach, kicking her hard and solidifying into a seemingly impenetrable mass, at the prospect that perhaps Roscoe wasn’t running loose. Because he wasn’t able to. Because he’d been hit by a car and was hurt or... No. Her dog was smart, agile and fast. She refused to go to worst-case scenarios. He hadn’t even been missing twenty-four hours yet.
Glancing through the window a second time and still not seeing any sign of Parker and his daughters, Nicole sighed in pent-up frustration and worry. She’d give them ten more minutes before sending Parker a text with her apologies and the explanation that she couldn’t wait any longer. Yes, Erin and Megan would be disappointed, but they were intelligent and compassionate little girls. They would understand and she’d make it up to them somehow.
For the next seven and a half minutes, Nicole paced her sparsely furnished living room and tried to direct her thoughts away from Roscoe’s whereabouts. She’d sold or gotten rid of most of her secondhand furniture when she moved to Steamboat Springs from Denver, knowing she would live with her parents until she found a house to purchase. She had done so in the middle of the summer and had settled in here only about a month ago. As of yet, she hadn’t finished replacing all she’d sold, preferring to go slowly in order to enjoy the process.
Her house, built in the style of a Craftsman bungalow, was a spectacular deal. The owners were relocating and had been motivated to sell fast at a below-market price; otherwise she likely would’ve had to pass. And that would’ve been a shame, as the second she walked through the front door, she had fallen completely in love.
Coming in at close to 1,700 finished square feet, the house was larger than what Nicole had been looking for, and the lowered sale price, while a great bargain, still pushed hard at the limit of her budget. But her gut had insisted she’d found her home. She trusted that instinct and, in the end, swallowed her nerves and took the plunge.
The exterior of the house featured dark blue siding with a sturdy gray brick foundation and, to her delight, a lovely screened-in front porch where she could sit and drink her tea before getting ready for work. And the interior of the house was perfect.
Every inch of the living space existed on the first floor and included three bedrooms, a cozy dining room that sat directly next to the eat-in kitchen, a laundry nook that more than suited Nicole’s needs, a spacious living room and two full bathrooms. In addition, the house boasted a second floor that had a single room, which was large but unfinished. The prior homeowners, before having to relocate, had planned on turning the upstairs room into their master bedroom.
They never had, and Nicole doubted she’d ever go to the trouble. She didn’t require the extra living space and it worked well for storage. Plus, when the home was originally built, the second floor hadn’t even been wired for electricity. Why go to the hassle and expense for an unnecessary addition, especially when she had yet to finish filling the rooms she did use?
At the moment, the only furniture in the living room was the pair of comfy, overstuffed chairs Nicole had bought at a going-out-of-business sale, a stand-up lamp she’d shoved in the corner and her television. The lamp wasn’t even hers, as she’d borrowed it from her parents. Before Roscoe’s getaway, her plans for today had included furniture shopping.
She’d hoped to find a sofa and maybe even a couple of end tables or, if she had no luck there, a few knickknacks for the brick fireplace’s mantel. A vase or—
The slam of a car door, followed quickly by another, woke her from her musings. They were here. Thank God! Nicole went to the front door and opened it without waiting for a knock or the doorbell to ring. She was instantly greeted with three voices—that of two little girls, still talking excitedly, as well as their father’s deep, resonating tone—and out of nowhere, her heart picked up an extra beat and what felt like a million goose bumps coated her skin.
What a gorgeous family these three made. The man—tall and lean, sexy and strong, with a warm smile in his sky blue eyes and on his rugged face—and those two adorable little girls by his side. Erin, with her golden-highlighted coppery-red hair gleaming in the morning sun and her pixie-like features—her softly pointed chin, small turned-up nose and finely etched cheekbones—and Megan, whose hair fell to her slim shoulders in a swoop of silky pale gold, with her expressive, friendly brown eyes and eager, happy-to-be-me grin.
Yes. They were a striking trio, and as they approached the front porch, Nicole wondered about the girls’ mother. She must have been a stunning woman. Red haired, possibly, like Erin, and almost certainly brown eyed, like both of her daughters. And Nicole then thought of the illness that had taken this mystery woman’s life, the illness she herself had fought with such vehemence, and her heart went out to these two little girls. To Parker.
Not only for the crushing, devastating loss of a mother and wife, but for the unbelievable hell that came before. The consuming fear when the diagnosis was first delivered, the slender strands of hope that couldn’t truly be grasped onto because of the overriding terror, the misery—oh, the horrible, horrible misery—of chemotherapy. Losing her hair, losing her identity, trying to have a positive attitude and keep it all together for her girls, for her husband, for herself.
Nicole didn’t have to imagine the terror or the hard-to-find hope or the god-awful misery. She was well acquainted with how it felt to watch your hair fall out, to look in the mirror and not recognize your own reflection, and to, well, to feel so ill that at times the possibility of losing the battle, of dying, came as almost a salve to the soul. Those struggles, those emotions, those realities she had experienced and would never, for the rest of her life, forget.
But she did not have children or a husband who had so needed her to survive, who depended on her and loved her, to worry about. To fear for or to try to remain strong for. Nicole could not put herself fully in this woman’s shoes, could not fathom how much courage and strength she’d been forced to find or the deep, desperate sorrow she must have felt when she knew that death was coming and that she couldn’t do anything but wait for the end.
Yes, Nicole had worried for her parents and her brother, and yes, she’d absolutely attempted to remain resilient and optimistic for their benefit, if not her own. And that wasn’t nothing. But it wasn’t the same, either. Did not, could not, hold an intensity equal to looking at your cherished children and hating the fact that you wouldn’t be there for them as they grew.
The weight of unshed tears appeared behind Nicole’s eyes. She pushed them down deep and forced the depressing thoughts into submission. They’d be there, she knew, to later pick apart and once again consider everything she had already considered so many times: the wisdom of purposely attempting to have a child without a husband in the wings ready to take over if her life ended, whether by a stupid accident of fate or the recurrence of her deadliest and most feared enemy.
Except now, along with the scary what-ifs—if she became pregnant, if she became ill again, if she didn’t survive—she would see this family in her mind’s eye. She would think of Parker and Erin and Megan, and the undeniable facts of all they must have gone through and how very much they’d lost. And while she might already be pregnant, she’d have no choice but to once more weigh the risks against the benefits of her choice and decide if that balance had changed. If she was pregnant, she’d joyously move forward with hope and commitment. But if her fourth procedure had failed as the first three had, then yes, she’d reconsider everything from top to bottom with a different, more defined view and see where she landed.
She doubted she would change her mind, but she recognized that ignoring the weight on her heart, the stark reality of these two little girls growing up without their mother, would prove impossible. She had thought about them before, what they had experienced, when she’d first learned of their mother’s passing from one of the other teachers, but now that she’d spent time with Erin and Megan outside of the classroom, her reaction to that basic knowledge had become more intense.
But those thoughts weren’t for now. She had a dog to find and two beautiful little girls plus one handsome daddy to welcome into her home. So, centering every ounce of her energy on the present, she smiled at her guests, who had just reached the front porch, and said, “Hey there, guys! I’m glad you’re here. Come on in and we’ll—”
“Hi, Miss Bradshaw!” Erin said. “We’re glad we’re here, too. And you’ll never guess what we did! We brought you a surprise. To help us find Roscoe.”
“Oh?” She took a closer look at Parker and finally noticed a stack of large drawings, bright and colorful with stickers and glitter, in his grasp. Blinking, she read the lettering on the topmost drawing and she saw what these precious girls had done for her. And her heart melted into a pile of sticky goo. “You girls are amazing,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Erin said. “And it was my idea.”
“But we both worked really hard,” Megan added. “Because we want Roscoe to come home so you won’t be sad and he’ll be safe. We didn’t have any pictures of him, but Daddy said we could probably get one from you and that we should just leave a big space in the middle.”
“I have plenty of pictures, for sure,” Nicole said, still surprised. Still tingly. And feeling about as fortunate and blessed as a woman with a missing dog could. “And I already have one picked out that I was going to use to show people. So, I’ll just print more.”
“Or make some copies! Daddy said that, too, and—”
“Take a breath, Megan,” Parker said, widening his smile. He winked at Nicole and now her gooey heart did the impossible. It fluttered. “I know you’re excited and want to show Miss Bradshaw the signs you worked so hard on, but why don’t we go inside first?”
Nicole returned his smile but not his wink, and opening the door another margin, she waited for all three to enter. Once they had, the girls kneeled to take off their snowy boots without being asked, and Parker handed her the stack of signs so he could do the same. Their fingers touched, for a brief, hardly there second, and the zing returned. Along with that punch—more of a wallop, really—of intrinsic recognition and connection. To this man.
Without warning, something—hope, maybe—that she’d buried in a locked, steel alloy box broke free and blossomed into being. She’d given up on the idea of love, of being lucky enough to find the right man to cherish and who would cherish her in return, to build a life with. But here it was again, as bright and shiny as a new penny. And far too appealing.
What if this recognition and connection and tingly awareness she felt toward Parker could actually become the love she never thought she’d have? Based on her past and what she knew of his, a bona fide miracle would have to occur. And really, how many miracles could a woman expect to have? She’d already been graced with her life, becoming healthy again, and she was, even now, doing everything in her power to become pregnant, which would absolutely count as a second miracle. There was Roscoe, too. Finding him would be number three.
Three miracles seemed greedy enough. How could she possibly hope for a fourth?
“I know it has to be difficult, but try not to worry too much, Nicole,” Parker said quietly, retrieving the signs from her grasp and then handing them to his daughters. They took them and rushed into the living room. “Focus on Roscoe and how he is very likely holed up somewhere safe and sound, and that he’ll be back home by the end of the day.”
“Good advice and that’s what I keep telling myself,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “I’m just worried, I guess. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s my best friend and an important part of my family. That might seem weird to say, but it’s true.”
“Not weird. I’d call it normal and expected. I’ve never had a dog, but my sister has a canine member of her family.” He nodded toward his daughters, who were in the process of laying the posters side by side on the living room floor. “She’s a sweet dog—feisty but sweet. Jinx adores kids, and the girls love her. It was hard on them when Daisy and Jinx moved out.”
Toddler twins, a sweet and feisty dog and a loving husband. Parker’s sister seemed to have it all. Some women really were blessed with everything. And that was fine. Good, even. Nicole did not need everything to be content and satisfied with all she did have. She wouldn’t refuse more, but who would? She just didn’t require more.
“I’m sure it was difficult,” she said. “How long did your sister live with you?”
“Oh. For a while. She took care of Erin and Megan when I was in the hospital.” A shadow crossed Parker’s features, which he quickly masked with a smile. “My point is, I have a small idea of what you’re going through, even though the circumstances are different.”
“Right. Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest that you didn’t.” She was curious about why he had been in the hospital and for how long, but didn’t ask. Even if the girls weren’t within hearing distance, it wasn’t her business. She hated talking about her illness, treatment and recovery. The entire topic made her uncomfortable. “We...uh...should get moving. I’ll print off more pictures of Roscoe so the girls can finish their amazing posters, and then we’ll head out.”
“Perfect,” Parker said, moving toward his daughters. By now, they were sitting on the floor in front of their handiwork, waiting about as patiently as two kids could. “I was thinking we might want to stop by Fosters Bar and Grill when we’re ready for a break. They get a lot of business, and my sister is married to one of the Fosters. I’m sure they’d hang one for us.”
She followed Parker’s path and stopped near the trio. “That would be great,” she said. “Thank you. And you guys wait here. I’ll be right back with those pictures. We need eight?”
“We have eight posters, so yes, please!” Erin said.
Megan worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I hope we left big enough spaces.”
“We did,” Erin said, “but we can cut the pictures smaller if we need to.”
“So long as we don’t cut off part of Roscoe’s face,” Megan said. “Because we can’t redo the posters. We left all of our art supplies at home, and we’d have to go back.”
“Girls, we won’t have to redo anything,” Parker said. “You left plenty of room.”
Nicole smiled at their chatter and went to the bedroom she used as an office. Quickly, because she was ready to search for her dog, she found the correct picture of Roscoe on her laptop and set it to print eight copies. Her brain returned to Parker’s statement about being in the hospital. Had he been sick or was there an accident or...?
Again, she reminded herself that whatever the cause of his hospital stay, it wasn’t her business. Besides which, if Parker wanted her to know more, he’d tell her on his own. If he was anything like her, and it was a topic that made him uncomfortable, he wouldn’t. And since she had firsthand experience in the discomfort of unwanted questions, she would never put another person through the same misery. But that didn’t stop her curiosity or her concern.
She hoped that whatever had happened was over and done with and well in the past.
A sigh emerged as the eighth sheet of paper spit from the printer. Today, she didn’t have to think about anything except for finding Roscoe, and she wouldn’t have to answer any of those hated questions. Parker did not know she was a breast cancer survivor. To him, she was just his daughters’ music teacher who had lost her dog. Nothing more, nothing less.
