Loving Care Read Free

Christie didn’t hesitate to let him know about her success…and with pride. He’d cowered, fearing to mention his son.
    His father’s question had struck a heavy blow. He could have mentioned that his son was also staying at his father’s. He could have said more…even about his wife’s death. Why hadn’t he? Instead, he’d avoided mentioning it as if he were ashamed.
    “This is a small town. Gossip flies like a house afire,” his father said. “If she doesn’t know already, then you need to—”
    “I know, Dad.” His thoughts whirred while unexpected visions rose in Patrick’s mind—Christie sitting by the firelight when they went camping,Christie picking wildflowers in a spring meadow, Christie laughing, with the wind blowing her honey-brown hair. The images rolled over him like waves on a beach. “I owe her the decency of telling her myself…and I will.”
    His father’s eyes narrowed. “Okay.” He shoved the paper plate away from him. “When?”

Chapter Two
    C hristie slid the blueprint around so she could look at it more carefully. “I’d like to have more storage space in this area.” She pointed to the spot on the proposed floor plan for the day-care-center addition. She’d been contemplating the changes for months. She demanded perfection.
    “Storage, huh?” The builder studied the drawing again.
    The telephone jingled, and Christie paused to see if one of her assistants would grab it. When it rang a third time, she excused herself and crossed the room to her desk. “Loving Care.”
    “Christie, this is Patrick.”
    Christie’s chest tightened. A week had passed since she’d seen him. She gripped the receiver, pulling it close to her mouth to keep her voice fromreaching the man standing by her worktable. “What do you want, Patrick?” The cross words flew from her, but she didn’t care, assuming Patrick was pushing to see the day-care facility. Seeing him hurt too badly. When he walked out on their marriage, she’d struggled to make her life meaningful. She couldn’t do it again.
    For a moment, only silence seeped across the line. Finally he spoke. “I thought we…I wondered if we could talk. I—”
    “I’m sorry, Patrick. This is a bad time for me. I’m very busy.” Realizing her volume had risen, she lowered her voice. “And I don’t see what we have to talk about. We talked eight years ago.” Her knees had begun to shake, and she felt light-headed. She longed to sit, but she felt the contractor’s eyes on her back so she fought to remain calm.
    “Yes, I know, but…” His voice faded to resignation for a moment. With a new fervor, he continued. “I’ll try again when you’re not so busy. Sorry I bothered you.”
    When Christie realized he’d hung up, she lowered the telephone and closed her eyes. His voice had sparked with anger, and she felt riddled with regret. What had happened to her clear thinking? Her control?
    Having Patrick back in town threw her off course enough. Talking to him, rehashing the past seemed useless and could only stir up emotions she’d packed away.
    Managing a pleasant look, Christie spun around to face the contractor. “So, where were we?” she asked, crossing the room to the worktable.
    He tapped the blueprint. “You asked about storage.”
    “Yes,” she said, struggling to keep focused.
    “I think we could shave a little off this new playroom.” The contractor ran his finger along the line of an imaginary wall. “Or we could add some built-ins here. Large shelves maybe along this wall and some benches under these windows. You know, the kind that serve as storage chests.”
    “Benches? I like that idea.”
    “So?” The contractor tapped his foot as she perused the blueprint. “What do you think?”
    “I like what I see. At least, with the changes. I would still have plenty of room for the children’s outside play, and—” Her heart sank as she realized since Patrick’s call she’d lost interest in talking about an