A Teaspoon of Trouble Page 7

  Carolyn turned off the water and pivoted toward her niece. “We can’t do that, honey.”

  “I wanna go home. I wanna be at my house.” Emma’s lower lip trembled, and her eyes filled. She clutched the sweater like a lifeline.

  “Your mom and dad aren’t there anymore, Emma,” Carolyn said.

  “Where did they go?”

  Oh, God, this was a question way above Carolyn’s pay grade. She didn’t have Sandy’s tender touch, her soft words. Carolyn was used to barking orders at the cooks in the kitchen, not dancing around delicate subjects with a preschooler. Hell, Carolyn had barely even processed Sandy’s death herself—how was she supposed to do that with Emma?

  “Emma, we’re going to the park today, remember?” Maybe a change of subject would help shift Emma’s attention. Carolyn forced brightness into her voice. “Do you want to—”

  “I don’t wanna go to the park! I wanna go home, Aunt Carolyn! I wanna see my mommy. I wanna go home!” With every word, Emma’s voice rose. Roscoe scooted under the table, his tail flat and his head on his paws. Carolyn stood there, helpless, unsure what to do.

  “I wanna go home! I wanna go now!”

  Her mother came into the kitchen, already dressed for the day, even though the chances of her leaving the house were nonexistent. “What’s all the—” She cut off the sentence when she saw Emma’s face. Marilyn leaned down and put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, honey?”

  “I wanna go home, Grandma.” Emma’s voice softened and cracked, and the tears in her eyes brimmed and began to fall.

  Mom looked at Carolyn. Carolyn shook her head. Her throat closed, the right words lost somewhere inside her. Once again, she questioned her sister’s sanity in naming her as Emma’s guardian. “I, uh, have to get ready for the trip to the park. Mom, can you…?”

  Carolyn was halfway out of the kitchen when her mother caught her by the arm. “You need to deal with this, Carolyn,” her mother whispered, “you’re going to be her—”

  “I’m no good at this job, Mom. I don’t have the faintest idea how to talk to a child. Tell me to whip up coq au vin for thirty, and I can handle that. But I can’t….” She gestured behind her. “I can’t do that.”

  “Did you ever stop to figure out why Sandy asked you to raise her?”

  “I’ve been wondering that since the day the lawyer called me.” Carolyn shook her head. She glanced at the heartbroken little girl, her face burrowed in Sandy’s sweater again. “What was she thinking?”

  “That you knew Sandy best. You two were so close when you were young, and you stayed that way. You have so many of Sandy’s memories in your heart. Speak from there, from the center of your heart, and you’ll find that connection to Emma.”

  Carolyn could barely get the dog to sit, never mind figure out what Emma wanted for breakfast. Memories of her sister did her no good when Emma refused to eat or go to bed. Memories of her sister didn’t answer the questions of why Emma couldn’t go home. Memories weren’t going to ease the difficult road ahead for an orphaned four-year-old. “I can’t. I’m not good at this, Mom.”

  “Carolyn—”

  But Carolyn had already left the kitchen and hurried down the hall to her room. Dumping what should have been her responsibility on her already exhausted mother’s shoulders, and feeling like a complete failure. She’d let down Emma, her sister—

  And most of all, herself.

  Chapter Six

  The run should have been enough to get Carolyn out of his system. But almost as soon as Matt got home, he found his mind wandering to her again. The office was closed, and he had a thousand chores he could do around the house, but instead he grabbed Harley’s leash, threw a winter coat over his running clothes, then headed out the door.

  Harley loved the cold, and trotted happily beside Matt as he walked through his neighborhood, then into downtown Marietta. Since it was Sunday, the town was quiet. A lot of the residents were at church, a few eating breakfast in the downtown diner. When church got out in an hour, the diner would swell with hungry parishioners. But for now, Marietta was sleepy, easing into Sunday morning. Every Sunday, Matt walked Harley in this quiet window. He loved this time of day.

  It was still cold out, but as the sun began to make its journey upward, the temperatures were rising. There was a slight breeze, crisp with winter’s breath, and a fresh scent in the air, as if spring could hardly wait to be ushered in, even if it was stuck behind a thick curtain of cold.

  Instead of going on their usual route, Matt turned left and found himself back in the same park he’d been at with Carolyn and Emma a few days ago. That sent his mind right back to her, and to wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she was thinking of him. Unproductive thoughts, but that didn’t turn them off.

  Then, as if he’d conjured her up, he saw Carolyn sitting on a bench while Emma and Roscoe ran around the same grassy area as they had the other night. The grass was coated with frost, the nearby pond iced over, but that didn’t stop Emma from charging around in a circle. Harley let out a bark, and Matt released him from his leash, so the Lab could join the fun.

  As Matt’s Lab rushed by, Carolyn turned. A smile curved across her face when she saw him, and something in Matt’s chest caught. She looked beautiful, bundled up in a dark blue parka with a fur-trimmed hood that framed her delicate features. “What are you doing here?”

  “Harley needed some air,” Matt said. Easier to blame the dog than tell her the truth. That he couldn’t get his mind off of her.

  She shifted on the bench, making room for him. “Want to sit down?”

  “Sure.” The bench was small, which put him a couple inches away from her. So close, he could feel the heat from her body. He wasn’t complaining.

  The dogs chased each other, with Emma running back and forth between them, laughing. The park was empty, save for the occasional bird that flitted from branch to branch above them.

  “It’s cold,” Carolyn said, burrowing deeper into her coat. “I forgot how cold it gets here in the winter.”

  Matt was used to winter in Montana, and to him, the day seemed unseasonably warm. Or maybe it was just being around Carolyn, because during his run this morning, he’d thought living in the North Pole would be warmer. “New York gets cold, too, doesn’t it?”

  “Ah, but the city is different. All those buildings keep the biting winds away, most of the time, and you’re inside so much, you hardly notice the seasons have changed. The only time I’m outside there is when I’m running to catch the subway.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t imagine living like that. Most days I walk to and from work, even in the dead of winter, because I love getting outdoors.”

  She laughed. “You always were more adventurous than me.”

  “Hey, that camping trip we had was adventurous, and if I remember right, you had fun.” One Labor Day weekend, they’d traveled a few miles outside of Marietta to go camping with three other couples. The first day, it rained steadily, and they’d spent the time inside the biggest tent, playing cards and telling jokes. When the rain stopped in the morning, Matt had taken Carolyn on a nature walk, pointing out the tardy raccoons and sleepy squirrels, and teaching her to recognize birds by their songs.

  “That was because you made it fun,” she said softly.

  He sensed that something had shifted inside her with those words, a tenuous thread reaching between them, built on shared memories. The moment was like a bubble, fragile, ready to burst at any moment. “How did I make it fun?”

  “Every time I wanted to complain about the bugs or the sticks or the mud, you would crack a joke, or point out some cool animal or tree. You knew everything.”

  “Not everything,” he said. He hadn’t known her, not as well as he’d thought. Maybe he’d just been too wrapped up in a teenage infatuation to see that Carolyn and he wanted different lives. With Wendy, their differences had come down to children. She had just accepted a job in a nearby town at a medical
clinic, and had told him she didn’t want to derail her career by having kids.

  *

  If there was one thing lacking in Matt’s life, it was a child. He loved animals, but after growing up with some pretty spectacular parents, he really wanted to be one himself. Scott was a confirmed bachelor, but Matt had always craved the comfortableness of being with one person and building a life together.

  “If there was anyone I would have wanted to be outdoors with, it would have been you.” Carolyn knocked her shoulder gently against his. “So, if the zombie apocalypse comes, I’m calling you.”

  He chuckled. The lightened mood brought his thoughts back to the present. “Glad to know you’d want me if we were facing the impending end of the world.”

  “Well, you can be pretty handy. Though I’ll have to do all the cooking.”

  “Except for cookies. I think I can handle those.”

  “Look at you. One batch of peanut butter cookies and you’re all I can bake anything.” She grinned and gave him a light jab. “And I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think there’s going to be a big need for homemade cookies in the zombie apocalypse.”

  Carolyn’s cheeks were flushed from the cold, her lips a little redder, but her smile was wide and her laughter light. It could have been a cloudy day, and Matt still would have felt the brightness from the woman beside him. “I’ve missed this, Carolyn.”

  “Missed what?”

  “This.” He gestured between them. “The way we were always…in sync.” The jokes, the teasing, the smiles. He’d missed it all, more than he realized until Carolyn came back to town.

  “We did have some good times together, didn’t we?” Her gaze shifted away from him, going to the park, to the dogs and Emma winding down their running circle, all of them a little breathless. It was like a scene from a Rockwell painting, or a mid-afternoon movie.

  “This is a good town to raise a child in, you know,” he said. “All of us turned out okay.”

  “I can’t stay here, Matt. My job, my life, is back in New York.” She sighed. “Though I have no idea how I’m going to balance all that and be a single mother.”

  “If you’re living in the same town as your parents and your friends, you’ll have that support structure.”

  She turned to him. “Are you trying to talk me into staying here?”

  “I’m trying to give you options for raising Emma. I’m no parenting expert, but even I know she’s going to need some stability and community going forward.”

  “Are you saying I don’t know that?” She got to her feet, took a step away, then spun back toward him. “Just drop the subject, okay?”

  “No problem.” The words came out with a bit of a bite. He was irritated with her, irritated with himself. He didn’t have a right to tell Carolyn what to do, nor should he try to convince her to live in a town she hated. He was better off just sticking to their arrangement, and letting her go at the end of the week. He got to his feet. “Why don’t we work with Roscoe some more? It’ll be easier, now that he’s a little tired out from running around.”

  She dug in the pocket of her coat and produced a small bag of dog treats. “I’ve been trying with him. We’ve mastered ‘Come’, but everything else…”

  “It’ll take some time. He’s young and energetic, but also eager to learn. Why don’t you call him up here, and we’ll work on a couple other commands?”

  She called to Roscoe. The dog paused in chasing Harley and looked back at her. Carolyn repeated the command, and Roscoe headed up the hill toward them.

  The change of subject to the dog seemed to have shifted the air between them, reduced the tension. “Now, tell him to sit,” Matt said. “Use a hand gesture, too, so he learns to respond to both your voice and your hand. That makes him keep his eye on you, rather than getting distracted by other things.” Matt made a scooping movement with his hand. “Like that.”

  Carolyn did as Matt instructed, using the commanding voice that he had taught her. Roscoe just stared at her, tail wagging.

  “Reach over, give his butt a little nudge in the right direction and repeat the command.”

  She did—and Roscoe licked her hand, then jumped up to nudge her shoulder. “Down, dog. Stop. Matt—”

  He laughed, and pulled Roscoe down, pushing on his butt and issuing the command. This time, Roscoe listened. He raised his nose to sniff at the treats. Matt took one and tossed it to the dog.

  Carolyn sighed. “He’s never going to listen to me.”

  “Patience, grasshopper.” He grinned. “Just be consistent, and keep working the training.”

  Carolyn opened her mouth to give the dog another command, then stopped. She scanned the park. “Where’s Emma?”

  Five seconds ago, Emma had been sitting next to Harley, talking to the Lab. Now all Matt saw was his dog, lying on the grass. No four-year-old in a thick pink coat beside him.

  The two of them broke into a run and charged down the hill, with Roscoe nipping at their heels, thinking it was a game of chase. “Emma!” Carolyn called. She stopped in the center of the grassy area and spun a circle. “Emma!”

  Matt scanned the park. A moment later, he saw a flash of pink, heading toward the exit. “There she is.”

  They hurried across the park, with the dogs running ahead. They closed the distance in seconds. Carolyn skidded to a stop in front of Emma. “Where are you going? You can’t just leave, Emma.”

  “I’m gonna go find Mommy,” she said, her little face defiant.

  “Oh, Em…” Carolyn sighed. A heavy, sad silence filled the air around them. “Em, you can’t.”

  He could see the heartbreak in Carolyn’s face. The war between telling Emma the truth again, and wanting to just smooth things over.

  Emma shook her head, refusing to accept her aunt’s words. “I wanna go find Mommy.”

  “You can’t, Emma. I told you that. I’m sorry, honey.” Carolyn put out her hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  Matt clipped the leashes on the dogs, and had them sit by his side. Emma looked so small in her thick winter coat, with tears in her eyes and her cheeks red from the cold.

  “I don’t wanna.” She took a step back and shook her head again. “No.”

  Carolyn sighed. “Emma, you have to do as I say. Come on, let’s go.” Emma only backed up further, still shaking her head.

  He could see the frustration in Carolyn’s face, but also a sense of being lost, out of her depth. That surprised him, because the Carolyn he knew was always confident, ready to tackle any challenge before her. Matt put a hand on Carolyn’s arm. “Can I try?”

  “Be my guest.” Carolyn stepped back.

  Matt bent down to Emma’s level. “Hey, kiddo. You scared us there.”

  “I did? How come?”

  “Because we couldn’t find you. Even Roscoe got worried.” Matt rubbed the dog’s head, and he leaned into Matt’s touch with a happy groan. “You gotta tell your aunt when you want to leave.”

  “I don’t wanna. Cuz she says I can’t go see my mommy.”

  Matt glanced up at Carolyn. He could see how much Carolyn didn’t want to burst Emma’s fantasy bubble that her mother was just away on a trip, or back in Wyoming. In Emma’s face, he could see the same war. She had yet to grasp the reality of her situation. Matt had seen that look a hundred times on the faces of children who had lost beloved pets, and sometimes even on their adult owner’s faces. Grief was a funny thing—trying to push it when the person wasn’t ready often backfired.

  He opted to do what he did with the kids he saw at his office—give Emma something constructive to do, to channel her emotions until she was ready to handle them. “How about we do something for your mommy instead right now?”

  Emma’s attention perked up. “What are we gonna do?”

  “Why don’t we make her a picture? There’s a craft thing at the library in a little bit. We can take Roscoe over to my house, so he can play with Harley, and you and me and your aunt can go to the library a
nd make a picture.”

  Emma’s face brightened. “I can make a picture of Roscoe. She loves Roscoe.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Matt rose and looked at Carolyn. “What do you think?”

  “That I’m hoping you’re as good with a glue stick as you are with pets and kids,” she whispered. “Because my craft skills are limited.”

  The three of them exited the park, with the dogs trotting out front in matching paces. Emma’s mood had shifted, her focus now on the picture she was going to make. It was a temporary lull, Matt knew, but hopefully it would give Carolyn time to figure out how to talk to Emma about her mother and father. “You don’t have to have killer glue gun skills to be a parent, Carolyn,” he said.

  She scoffed, watching Emma skip ahead of them. “I don’t have any craft or parenting skills. And every time I look down the road to the future…all I see is a mess.”

  Chapter Seven

  She had glitter stuck to her fingers and a rainbow of marker color on her palms, but Carolyn had survived craft time at the Marietta Public Library. Barely. A dozen kids under the age of six sat around two round tables, while a perky woman with cat’s-eye glasses perched on her nose flitted back and forth, exclaiming over every creation like Picasso himself had made it.

  Matt sat in one of the tiny chairs meant for kids, looking like a giant in a world of Lilliputians. Several of the kids knew Dr. Matt, and clamored for his attention, asking him to help them glue on sequins or color in a horse, or just admire their picture.

  He was patient with every single child, managing to somehow give attention to several at the same time, while also helping Emma with her picture of Roscoe. He had a way with kids and pets and everyone he met—while Carolyn felt like she was fumbling around in the dark, trying not to screw things up more. Every time she tried to help her niece, Emma turned instead to Matt.