than he’d left here this morning, alarm bells went off in his head. “Where’s Charity?”
“She’s inside. She said she had to make a call.”
He’d had a feeling Charity wasn’t going to last long when he hired her, but he’d hoped she would at least make it until he found a suitable replacement. He’d have to talk to her about taking personal calls when he was paying her to watch his kids. “Did the kids dip her in paint and mud, too?”
“No. That was all my doing.” Katie laughed. “After Libby and I finished working on her math, I got them the paints because they were complaining that they were bored, and I didn’t want to just park them in front of the television. I asked Charity, and she said she thought it was a good idea to do a craft. Except I’m not exactly the crafty type.” Katie gave him a sheepish grin. “Libby got paint on her hands and wanted to clean it off, but I didn’t think you’d want her to do that in the bathroom sink, so I turned on the hose and...” She waved at the yard and grimaced.
Sam could read that look of being overwhelmed from a mile away. How many times had he felt totally over his head when it came to the kids? He’d been so used to putting it all into Wendy’s hands, into letting her take the lead while he worked too many hours. When his wife was gone and the family who had hovered over him for the first two weeks after she died had left, Sam was left floundering, beleaguered and clueless.
A lot like Katie looked right now. Actually, she looked kind of cute with the mud and paint peppered all over her shirt and skirt. She’d kicked off the heels, and there was something about her bare feet on the grass that just seemed...sweet. A part of him wanted to just draw her against his chest and kiss that spot of paint right above her brow.
“Come on,” he said to Katie, waving toward the door. “Why don’t you go inside and clean up? I’ll corral the wild beasts and then we’ll all get some lunch.”
“Are you sure? I can clean up this mess out here first.”
“I can handle it. Don’t worry.”
Katie gave him a grateful smile, then headed inside. Sam watched her go for a moment, then dragged his gaze away from the intriguing woman crossing his yard.
The guilt washed over him again. He shouldn’t be concentrating on anything other than his kids and his job right now. The kids needed him—needed a parent who kept his crap together, not one who got distracted by a pretty woman with mud on her face.
He headed for the kids, reached out and took the hose from Libby just before she turned it on her brother again. Both kids were dripping wet, sodden messes from head to toe. He was about to chastise them, when he looked down and realized something else.
Both kids were happy. Goofy grins filled their eyes and brightened their cheeks. “We had fun!” Libby said. “Can we do that again?”
Beside her, Henry nodded. His face was a blur of paint, half of it smeared by the water and now running crimson into his orange T-shirt. There was no trace of the somber, withdrawn boy who had appeared the day Sam had sat on the sofa and hugged his kids to him and told them Mommy was never coming home again.
He glanced over his shoulder at the house. It was amazing what a few hours of Katie in their lives could do. And that was a very good thing.
* * *
When the pain hit her, it hit her hard and fast.
For three days, Katie had been coming to Sam’s house for an hour or two at a time after school, to work with Libby. They had slowly winnowed down the pile of papers her teacher had sent home and she had nearly mastered her times tables. Then, when they were done with schoolwork, Katie would draw with both kids, a break Charity seemed to welcome, because the nanny immersed herself in her phone the second Katie appeared. Maybe because Charity was there a longer portion of the day, picking up Henry from storytime at the community center and watching him until Libby got home from school.
The kids had kept clamoring for more finger painting, so Katie had finally caved today. This time without the need to hose off in the yard.
Everything had been going fine until Charity announced she was quitting. She said she’d gotten a call back from a job at the mall, and was done being a nanny. She was gone two minutes later, leaving a stunned Katie alone with the kids for a half hour until Sam came home.
It was in that thirty minutes that things had changed. Maybe it was because it was just the three of them, or maybe the kids were starting to bond with Katie, but just as she was helping Libby mix up some purple paint, Henry had leaned in and put his head on Katie’s arm.
A simple movement, really. She’d looked down and seen this little boy curving into her like he’d known her all his life. Then Libby turned to Katie and said, “Our mommy used to draw with us. I’m glad you do, too.” A pause, then Libby’s eyes met hers, wide and serious. “Are you gonna stay, Katie?”
Katie glanced up and saw Sam standing there, his face filled with a mixture of surprise and something unreadable.
Katie had scrambled out of the seat, made up an excuse about needing to clean up, then barreled toward the bathroom. One second she was soaping up her hands, and the next, a sharp fissure pierced her chest. Her breathing tightened, her heart crumpled into a fist and tears rushed into her eyes. She braced her still dirty hands on either side of the sink, heedless of the soapy, purplish drops puddling on the tile below.
She glimpsed her face in the mirror, looking harried and messy and so out of her normal buttoned-up world. This is what a mom looks like, her mind whispered, and these are the kinds of things a mom does.
Wham, the pain had hit her.
She wasn’t a mom. She might never be a mom. The one chance she’d had to be a mother, her body had failed...no, she had failed. She’d lost the baby and all those hopes and dreams she’d had. What had made her think she could be here, around these kids, and not be reminded of that fact? Maybe she should tell Sam she couldn’t tutor Libby. Or maybe she should just keep working here, because maybe it would force her to confront all those things she had run from.
Yeah, and considering how often in her life she’d confronted any of the things that bothered her, those chances were pretty slim.
A light rap sounded on the door. “You okay in there?” Sam’s voice, warm and concerned. Just four words, but they seemed to ease the tightness in her chest.
Katie released her grip on the porcelain, drew in a breath, then nodded at her reflection. Another breath, then she could speak. “Yeah, just cleaning up.”
“Okay. Just checking. I was afraid you might have climbed out the window and run off, especially since Charity quit.”
That made her laugh. “Nope, I haven’t left. Not yet.”
“That’s good.”
She paused, sensing Sam lingering outside the door. A moment later, she heard the fading sound of footsteps as he headed back down the hall. She finished rinsing and drying her hands, then emerged from the bathroom. In the kitchen, Sam was bent down, Libby standing before him, with one of the pictures she had painted that day in her hands. Libby’s face held a hushed hesitancy.
Katie’s chest squeezed. In a split second, she was eight years old again, standing in front of her mother with a test she’d brought home from school. Her first A in math class, decorated with a giant smiley face sticker. She’d wanted her mother to be as proud as Mrs. Walker had been, wanted to hear those same words you did it, kiddo.
“This is awesome, Libby Bear,” Sam said to his daughter, taking the picture and pointing at the center. “I love the rainbow. And the flower.”
Libby frowned. “I thought the flower was kinda messy.”
Sam cupped his daughter’s cheek. “It’s not messy. It’s perfect.”
Katie waited for that echoing grin of pride to appear on Libby’s face, for her to acknowledge she’d heard the words she wanted