It’s kind of late.” Keep thinking about the business. That, I can handle. But if he took over her schedule, he wouldn’t have the time he’d allotted to practice his pitch for tomorrow.
“No!” Alarm made Keela’s large iceberg-blue eyes grow huge. “I wouldn’t leave you in a bind like that. I’ve got four more patients to see, and I intend to see them.” She chewed her lip, her daughter holding her hand and staring up at her. The innocent party. “Is there any chance you could look after her for the next hour?”
What? I’ve got things to do. Presentations to prepare for. I don’t do kids. But he wasn’t that big of a jerk, was he? Keela was his employee of the month, every month. Hell, every day! She needed a favor, and he was it. “I guess she can sit in here while I work.” He didn’t even try to sound okay with the idea, and put the emphasis on work, as tension crept up his neck.
“Thank you!” she said, with such relief that he felt bad for his contrary attitude, even as early signs of panic set in. But he had a presentation to prepare for! He would just ignore the kid and soon the hour would be over.
“Let’s not make a habit of it.” The thought of spending forced time with the little girl sent an ice pick straight through his heart. Would he ever get beyond it?
“Never my intention, Daniel. I’m just stuck in the middle today.”
He clenched his molars. Yeah, he got that. Now he was, too, but childcare wasn’t part of their employment agreement. He had a business to run. It was his lifeline. “Okay, kid, have a seat.”
The little girl looked to her mother, who dropped to her knees and gazed at her, eye to eye. “Be a good girl for Dr. Delaney. Mommy needs to work, okay?”
Anna nodded, as serious as a little kid could be. Keela took the tiny, tangerine-colored backpack covered in animated movie characters off the child’s shoulders, unzipped it and fished out some crayons and a coloring book. “You can make some nice pictures for Daddy for when you see him next.” Then she escorted the girl to the chair opposite Daniel’s desk. The one he reserved for his patients. There was a small table with assorted magazines next to it. She could color on that. She was so tiny, and probably worried about the big mean-faced man. He tried to smile to ease her concerns, but failed. It wasn’t her fault she’d been stuck with him, old mean-face, who was still hurting and lost and, so far, unable to move on.
Anna didn’t seem too interested in drawing for her dad, but Keela opened the book to a specific page. She left for the therapy room on a wave of that vanilla herb scent, with a relived “thank you” on her breath, and thankfully, the child went right to work on her coloring.
Okay, so far so good. He’d survive, he’d get through this, and before he knew it, the time would be over. Think defense. He checked his watch, then got back to the task at hand, ignoring the kid.
“What are you doing?” The slow, inquisitive words broke his concentration. He tensed. Again.
“Uh, I’m working on a project.”
“Can I help?”
He stapled pages together from the large stack waiting on his desk. Daniel wanted to breeze through the mindless job in record time so he could practice his presentation until he knew it backward and forward. But there she was, standing next to his desk. He stopped and glanced at the kid, noting her hopeful dark eyes, her obvious eagerness to get involved. Man, ignoring her was tough. “Uh, okay. Can you push this down hard enough to go through the papers?”
He placed the stapler at the upper left corner of the next four-page packet on his desk. She was too short to reach it, so he held the stapler out to her, trying to keep some distance. Not the right angle, and zero support. She climbed up on his lap, and he instantly regretted it. How tiny she was, yet full of life, how...
Bang, she whopped that stapler like a professional, surprising him. “Good.” If they worked fast, this would soon be over.
A minute later she’d completed the task, with his guidance, and somehow he’d survived. “And that’s it. Thanks. Now you can go back to your coloring.” He immediately removed the child from his lap, finally able to relax and take a deep breath.
It occurred to him he might stick Abby, the receptionist, with Anna for a while. But Keela had asked him to do the job, and he’d already assigned Abby to update client records this afternoon, which involved calling former and current patients on the phone. Otherwise known as drumming up more business. She couldn’t very well do that, check in the arriving patients and watch a kid, too. And he’d cleared most of his afternoon specifically so he could work on his 4Cs pitch for tomorrow morning.
“I don’t want to.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to color. Is that a fountain?”
Looking out the door, she said the word slowly—“foun-tan.” Yes, it was. It was in the hallway and she was welcome to go get a drink so he could get back to what he needed to do. “Yes. Help yourself.”
Anna scooted out of the room in her pink leggings and tutu, her sneakers squeaking on the tile. It was kind of cute, but he ignored the thought. Too damn painful. Instead he gave a sigh of relief that he was alone again and focused on his speech.
“I need help!” She used her outdoor voice, which startled him, and he jumped out of his chair to assist her by lifting her under the arms. Man, she was light, hardly weighed anything. So vulnerable and completely dependent on him. So trusting. Precious. She pushed the button for water, but her mop of curls got in the way. Her face got wet and she giggled. He almost smiled.
“Here,” he said, balancing her on his bent knee and thigh, and holding her hair out of the way with one hand. She slurped to her heart’s content, coming up only when she needed to breathe.
“Tastes good.”
He thought quickly. “I can fill up a cup for you. That’ll be easier.”
“No...” She dragged out the word. “I do it this way.”
And there he stood, letting his PT’s daughter drown herself in icy foun-tan water, braving brain freeze for fun.
“All done,” she finally said, so he set her down and felt immediate relief. Now maybe he could get back to work.
“I have to pee.”
He scrunched up his face, didn’t even try to hide his reaction. Was this really happening? “Do you know how to do that by yourself?” Because there was no way he was getting involved in that.
“I’m almost five!” Up went the hand.
“Okay.” Whatever that meant. He took her lifted hand, walked her to the unisex bathroom and nudged her inside. She gave him an exasperated glance, then pointed to the toilet seat cover container on the wall, too high for her to reach. He stepped inside, but only long enough to put the thin paper cover on the toilet, then turned to leave while again thinking how small she was and hoping she wouldn’t fall in. Before he closed the door, she was already pulling down her leggings and underpants.
“Wait, wait, wait!” He couldn’t help raising his voice, but seeing alarm on her face, he toned it down. “Let me leave first, okay?”
“Okeydoke.” So easily appeased.
He stood outside the bathroom door for what seemed like forever, marveling at the innocence of children and how they needed to be protected. There went the stab to his heart again. He checked his watch, listening to make sure she hadn’t fallen into that toilet bowl, but mostly wishing he was in his office doing what he was supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, his thoughts got stuck somewhere between loss and grief, pain and dangerously close to do-not-enter territory.
He pushed the feelings down, insisting he could do this. She was an innocent kid and he was the adult in the room. Soon he heard a flush. “I can’t reach it!” she yelled.
He tried to open the door. How had she