There wasn’t a lot of time for Simon to sort out fears like that.

Early Tuesday morning, a truck rumbled up the lane and dropped off the pod from Boston containing all Delaney’s stuff. It took Simon and his mother three hours to make sense of what was inside.

Gretchen stood, hands on hips, surveying all the various items that hadn’t been packed away in cartons but rather loaded into the storage container and left to tumble around on the cross-country trip here. “Everything’s a mess. It’s like whoever packed up her townhouse crammed it all in here without tying anything down.”

“I wonder if Margaret Tyler was even there to supervise the removal of this stuff. I blame her for this.”

Gretchen huffed out a breath. “At least you can give Gilly back her stroller. There are two in the back there. Did you notice that?”

“I like Jayden’s stroller better than these, although one is pink and white, girly, but it looks like a luggage cart.”

“Honey, those must’ve cost at least a thousand dollars apiece.”

“You’re kidding? Why would anyone pay that for a stroller?”

“Beats me. But apparently money was no object for your…”

Simon cut her off. “I wish people would stop using that word. Your. It irritates me.”

“Would you prefer that woman?”

Simon ran a hand through his hair. “Not really. But Amelia wasn’t mine. We had no future together. Not ever. If she and her lover had lived, I wouldn’t even know I’d ever had a daughter, until a stranger, a grown female at that, showed up at my door thirty, forty years down the road.”

“You’re still bitter about that.”

“Angry,” he corrected. “You try learning you’ve fathered a child, standing in the living room at the B&B. It was…”

“Humiliating?”

“Yeah. And then some. But I need to let it go and stop bringing it up, don’t I?”

She rubbed his arm. “Too many other more productive things that need doing right now. Are you okay to sort this mess out after you move in?”

“After I get this thing over to the new place, I’ll unload it bit by bit into the garage and go through it then. The toys she had have to be in here somewhere.”

“She’s doing fine with what she has. This, a truckload of stuff, isn’t what she needs right now.”

He knew it was true. Delaney seemed like a happy little girl, a fact that meant he was doing something right.

He couldn’t explain the thrill he felt at the sight of her holding out her arms to him when she wanted to be picked up. Any parent could relate to that deep emotional connection running through their veins when their child needed them.

Gilly knew. She understood. But it wasn’t their only bond. The sex had been incredible. And wasn’t that the best boon to it all. Without much effort, his mind drifted into that memory of mating, slipping into her body and sharing that link.

He forced himself to shake out of the fogbank of sex and focus on the task at hand. Getting movers lined up was a helluva drop from thinking about Gilly’s curvy body and how he wanted to explore every inch of it the next time they were together.

 

 

Gilly didn’t have time to think about sex. She’d arrived for her shift to find it busy and hopping. She’d just given Zach Dennison, who’d almost lost a finger using a table saw at his workplace, a shot of lidocaine before Dr. Nighthawk sutured the wound.

“When’s the last time you had a tetanus shot?” she asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t remember. Don’t like blood. Don’t like shots either.”

Gilly patted his arm. “Then don’t look. But you’re getting a tetanus shot before you go home.”

She’d just cruised out of his exam room when she spotted her mother teetering this side of the automatic front doors. She darted toward her and watched as her mother collapsed in the waiting area.

“Dr. Nighthawk!”

Gideon, who’d been about to tend to Zach, rushed over to where Connie had crumpled. “Get Sydney. We’ll need help getting her onto a stretcher.”

But Sydney had already heard the commotion and come running. All three managed to lift an unconscious Connie and transferred her to a gurney.

Sydney wheeled her into another exam room. “You stay out here and take care of Zach,” Sydney told Gilly. “You know the rules.”

“I do.” But Gilly had to calm down enough to do her job and stitch up Zach’s sliced finger, all the while her mother was on the other side of a blue curtain.

She slapped on latex gloves, brought over the suture tray and got busy.

She estimated Zach’s ring finger would take seven stitches. Normally, a piece of cake. She took her time with each suture, not wanting to rush. Before she was finished, Bree and Troy pushed back the curtain to check on his progress.

Gilly was used to dealing with worried family members who wanted to hover, but at this juncture, she was having none of it. “Visitors wait outside until we’re done. Your brother’s doing fine, Bree. Aren’t you, Zach?”

Zach nodded.

The couple backed out without an argument, either because they didn’t want to see the procedure or didn’t want to upset the person holding the tapered needle.

Thirty minutes later, she finished up with Zach, complete with tetanus shot and extra bandages, and discharged him to his waiting family.

She took care of half a dozen other chores, seeing to patients down the hall, until finally Dr. Nighthawk emerged with news.

“She’s fine,” Gideon assured her. “She’s developed an infection which is quite common in shunt recipients. I’m admitting her, so we can pump enough antibiotics into her and deal with it.”

“I’d just checked on her before I came to work. You’re sure she’ll be okay?”

“I think so, yes. You know as well as I do that infections related to shunts can develop rapidly, cause the body to go into shock. That’s what happened to Connie.”

Gilly dropped into one of the chairs near the reception area. “Thank goodness she was able to get herself here. I looked up and…there she was. I watched her collapse right in front of me.”

Gideon put a hand on her shoulder. “And like the professional you are, you went on to do your job. We’re trained to keep our heads in a crisis. I think you exemplified that just now.”

“Thanks. When I can see her?”

“Sydney’s wheeled her into room 2. Take your break now and tend to your mom.”

Her mother looked pale and fragile, but at least she was awake. “Hey, Mom. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve walked ten miles uphill.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t have my phone with me. I started out on a walk, got halfway down Crescent Street and began to feel sick, you know, dizzy like I could pass out. I didn’t have much choice but to try and make it here.”

Gilly squeezed her fingers. “You did a great job.” She had to be grateful her mother hadn’t fainted anywhere along the route.

“Am I going to be okay, Gilly? Tell me the truth. I’m not used to this, not used to feeling sick.”

“You’ll be fine, Mom. From now on we’ll monitor your white cell count for infection on a more regular basis. Stay on top of anything that doesn’t feel quite right.”

“I’m sorry I upset you with Jayden the other day.”

“It’s okay, Mom. You haven’t been yourself. But we’ll make you better. I promise. Now get some sleep.”

After leaving her alone, Gilly leaned up against the wall in the hallway. She reached out to the one person she could, not through text, but she needed to hear Simon’s voice.

 

 

Simon was in the middle of the floor, wrestling with Jayden when his phone buzzed. “That’s your mom,” he told the toddler. “Time out.”

He answered the phone in a mocking voice. “Hello, this is Jayden’s latest victim. I need help. The boy is strong and keeps knocking me down. Help. Come save me.”

In the background, Gilly could hear Jayden giggle and make zooming noises. And she laughed, grateful for this part of her world. “I’m Nurse Grant coming to the rescue.”

“How’s everything going? Work okay?”

She told him about her mother.

Instantly, he was up off the floor. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. Talking to you is what I needed. Hearing your voice. Knowing Jayden’s okay. That’s what I need right now.”

He wanted to reach through the phone and wrap her up. “When’s your break?”

“I’m on it now. I needed some time to get it together.”

“I’d be there, even with the kids. Mom has that date tonight. Just say the word.”

“Simon, you’ve been blowing and going for days now. Take a night off. I’ll be fine. Knowing you have everything under control means the world to me. And tell Gretchen to go out and kick up her heels tonight.”

 There was a sadness in her voice he hadn’t heard before. He thought he understood. “Close calls like that take a lot out of us, but we rebound.”

She took a deep breath. “What would I do without you?”

“I don’t want you finding out.”

“I’ve got to get back. I’ll text you if I can.”

Simon went from being in a good mood to taking on some of Gilly’s burden. He needed to think and suggested they all go for a walk.

“Why don’t I start dinner?” Gretchen offered. “You take the kids out for a little bit. You look like you could use the fresh air.”

The three of them headed toward the pumpkin patch, where the big and bright orange balls caught Delaney’s eye.

Their pace wasn’t fast, but rather a slow methodical amble down rows and rows of green vines, holding onto fruit that would surely end up as someone’s jack o’lantern soon. It was almost the end of September, time for the fruit stand at the end of the driveway to bustle with busloads of school children coming from as far away as San Sebastian to pick out pumpkins. It was one of the farm’s oldest fall traditions.

He looked over in time to see Delaney try to pick up one of the orange balls. “Not budging, huh, munchkin?”

“I’ll get it,” Jayden offered. He tried to push and pull to no avail.

“Gotta find one that’s ripe first,” Simon noted, scanning the bigger plants until he found a likely prospect. “To tell if it’s ripe, you gotta thump it, like this.” Simon used his finger to tap the skin. “If it sounds hollow, it’s time to pick.” He took out his pocket knife and bent down to cut the stem. “Uh-oh. Now we’ve done it. What do we do with our pumpkin?”

Jayden put his finger in his mouth to think. “Porch.”

“Good thinking.”

Sammy came over, all smiles. “What did you bring me this afternoon, Simon? New workers?”

“Looks like. They’re eager to get started. What should we have them do first?”

“Harvest these pumpkins. But I see problems. Two kids, one pumpkin. Seems to me like someone’s gonna be shortchanged.”

“You’re right. Who wants to go pick out another one?”

“Me!” Jayden hollered. “’Laney can have this one.”

“Don’t forget to thump it,” Simon directed, watching Delaney circle her newly acquired, oversized squash and try to sit on it.

“You shoulda brought a wagon,” Sammy suggested, scrubbing his chin. “Want me to go get that old cart next to the barn? That way they can ride back.”

“Great idea. Wish I’d thought of it.” He trailed after Jayden, waiting for the boy to find one he wanted.

“This one!”

Simon started laughing, noting how large it was, probably eighteen inches in circumference.  “That has to be the first prize winner, Jayden. That thing must weigh almost as much as you.”

When Sammy came back he had the steel metal cart attached to the back of the tractor. Simon had to hold Jayden in place to keep him from running up to it while in motion.

The kid was fascinated with the huge wheels, which he had to inspect from all angles.

Simon moved them along by loading up their haul and setting the kids inside to head back. “Hold on,” he cautioned. “It gets bumpy through here.”

He noted his step was just a little lighter. His attitude better. His somber mood had lifted. The power of kids, he thought. Never in a million years would he have considered they held such influence on how differently he looked at things.

The kids chattered away like two magpies.

Simon was certain Delaney’s vocabulary had increased since being around Jayden. It was understandable, the boy talked nonstop. That was okay with Simon. It showed the three-year-old’s development was on track. He knew because he’d looked it up online.

Once they reached the house, Simon plucked the two out of the cart and let them run around on the grass until his mother stepped out onto the porch. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Hear that,” Simon called. “Time to eat!”

Hands had to be washed and bibs in place to eat the ravioli his mother had made from scratch.

“I didn’t know I had the ingredients in the pantry for all this,” Simon stated, spooning out her homemade sauce and drizzling it over his pasta. “Good stuff.”

“Good stuff,” Jayden repeated, his mouth rimmed with red sauce.

“Good ’tuff,” Delaney echoed.

“I have rolls,” Gretchen offered.

“Hot buttered rolls, too? What did we do to deserve this feast? Can you tell Nana thank you for making this great supper?”

“Thank you!” Jayden said.

Again, Delaney tried to utter the same words.

“I think it’s unanimous, Nana. Your supper’s a hit.”

Gretchen took a seat between Simon and Delaney. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Same here,” Simon acknowledged. “We’re just glad you got to make the trip.”

Immediately after supper was done, Simon noticed his mother getting anxious. “Forget the dishes. Forget bathing the kids. Go get dressed for your date.”

“You sure?”

“Go. I’ll get the kids ready for bed.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She darted off to the bedroom to fuss with her short hair, experimenting with several ways to wear her bangs. She hadn’t brought a lot of clothes with her, just a few essentials she wore on a regular basis. But she’d recently purchased a dressy floral skirt online in mint green that was just the right thing for a dinner and a movie. Not that he had mentioned a movie, she thought, beginning to panic a little.

Drawing in a deep breath, she reached for a plain, short-sleeved white button-down blouse she’d ironed that very morning. Turning to the mirror, she decided to add a gold belt at the waist that would accentuate her figure.

She slid a pair of matching hoops into her pierced ears and wrapped a string of favored, oversized beads in the same color green around her neck. By the time she slipped into a pair of sandals, she felt almost pretty, almost like a girl again getting ready for a big date.

New at this, she spritzed on perfume and then realized maybe she’d sprayed too much. She opened the bedroom door to ask for Simon’s opinion and found John already waiting for her in the living room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell,” she announced.

Simon smiled. “We don’t have a doorbell, Mom. John knocked. We’ve been sitting out here waiting for you to make your entrance.”

“And what an entrance,” John noted. “You look beautiful.”

Simon hated to admit it, but she did indeed look radiant. Pride swelled in his chest. At sixty, Gretchen Bremmer still had what it took to turn a man’s head. And the look on John’s face told Simon the man was already smitten.

“Are the kids in bed?”

“Delaney was tuckered out and Jayden wasn’t far behind. All that running around in the garden did the trick. You two get out of here now and have fun.” He held out his hand to John. “You take care of my mother tonight. I’d hate to have to hunt you down and hurt you.”

John grinned. “I won’t even speed.”

Simon slapped the man on the back. “Now that’s the right answer.”

After they left, Simon made himself comfortable in front of his big-screen TV to watch a late-starting playoff game between the Seattle Mariners and Red Sox. But instead of watching a pitching duel, his head fell back on the cushions and he was asleep within minutes.

 

 

Gretchen, however, was totally psyched to be out and about, at what for her was eleven o’clock on the east coast. The three-hour time difference meant she’d normally be crawling into bed right about now. She looked out the passenger side window at the clear night sky. “It’s beautiful here. Look at that moon shining on the water.”

“If I weren’t so hungry, I’d take you for a walk along the beach. But we can do that after we eat.”

“Promise? Because that sounds wonderful.”

“You bet.”

It was a short drive to Athena Circle, a cul de sac with beach bungalows of different styles. John turned into the driveway of one on the corner of Ocean Street, painted white with blue shutters and a bright red door to set it apart from the rest.

Gretchen decided it could only be described as a doll house, nestled among other similar cottages built during the 1930s. “What a lovely beach house.”

“Thanks. I put a lot of work into it. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like when I moved in. Rotten shingles, termites. I guess it’s best if I keep that to myself. A lady like you might not want to eat in there.”

“A lady like me?”

“Refined lady.”

“Am I?”

John unlocked the front door and let her go inside first. “You are. It shows in the way you carry yourself.”

“I’m not sure what to say to that.” She sniffed the air. “Did you already start dinner?”

He grinned. “Not the fish. But I did make a potato casserole as a side that I left warming in the oven. It should be nice and crispy by now.”

“You weren’t kidding when you boasted you could cook.”

He puttered around the stove and brought out a pan. “Hey, with a kid, I had to learn and learn quick. Over the years I’ve come up with all sorts of tasty dishes. You stick around, I’ll give you the chance to sample the full buffet.” He paused. “That was meant to be a joke.”

She hooted with laughter. “Simon was right about you.”

“How’s that?”

“You don’t waste time.”

“I figure at my age, why waste a minute.” He removed the fish from the refrigerator, freshly caught snapper, and added it to the pan to sear.

“Did you catch that yourself?”

“You bet. I have a little boat I take out into the bay, motor out to this spot and sit there looking back on our little village.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can toss the salad. I made a nice dressing I like with fish.”

Impressed, Gretchen watched him out of the corner of her eye. He handled the cooking like a pro, like a chef on one of those foodie shows. “You said you were a contractor, but I think you’ve taken some classes.”

He gave her the sexiest smile. Her heart did a little flutter.

“When I lived in Santa Cruz I lived next door to a lady who could flat out cook. Lindeen Cody’s her name. Just happens to be our chief of police’s mother. She’s the one who sat me down one day and read me the riot act for feeding Julianne a frozen TV dinner. Lectured me about nutrition and all that. She pushed me into doing what little cooking I did with more fresh fruits and veggies. Apparently, I wasn’t a fast enough learner to suit her, so she started schooling me in what she meant. Turns out, it wasn’t that hard once I got the hang of it. I’ve been cooking ever since.”

He had a cadence in his voice she liked, a soft tone that had an almost lyrical quality to it. “Are you a California native?”

“Born and raised. You a Rhode Island native?”

“Boston. I didn’t move to Newport until after I married Lowell. Went down to Cape Cod every summer as a girl. As I get older I realize how magical those days were.”

“Living by the beach can still be magical. Your accent isn’t that heavy like some others I’ve heard.”

“Maybe because in junior high my grandfather had a stroke. Part of his recovery process was taking speech lessons three times a week. My mother said that after I sat in on so many of his therapy sessions, spanning almost two years, my speech became clearer. I’d had a bit of a lisp before that. Anyway, the lisp got better and maybe the lessons improved my accent.”

John plated the snapper and dished out the casserole. “I hope you like fish.”

She chuckled. “You’re talking to a Cape Codder. I grew up living off the sea, catching my supper as a girl, trailing after my dad with a fishing pole in my hand.” She hadn’t thought of that in years.

“I think I’m in heaven. A woman who fishes is a woman after my own heart. I’d love to take you fishing for Pacific snapper sometime. It’s also known as rockfish out here and it’s a bit different than what you’re used to on the Cape. Listen to me going on about fish with the expert.”

“Me? An expert on fish? I doubt that. I’m not the one who spends so much time on the water.” But she had to admit it sounded like something she’d love to do.

He uncorked a bottle of Riesling. “I’m no wine connoisseur, but I prefer this with the snapper, brings out the nutty flavor and matches sweet for sweet.”

She held up her glass. “Here’s to new friendships.”

“And a man hoping for a lot more.”

Her lips curved. “I do expect that walk on the beach.”

“You got it. But you should know that I’m hoping to steal a kiss in the moonlight.”

 

 

Simon waited up. He couldn’t help it. His mother was out there at…last time he checked…one-thirty in the morning with a man she really didn’t know very well. When he heard John’s truck pull up outside, he pretended to be asleep on the sofa. It seemed to take forever for his mother to get out of the car.

But when she did, he saw her entrance; she glided into the house like a schoolgirl.

“You look like you had fun.”

Gretchen came to a sudden stop. “Oh, Simon, I had the best time. We’ve spent all this evening after dinner walking on the beach, talking like we’ve known each other for ages.”

“I guess when you connect, you connect for real.”

“I know, it’s crazy. We’ll have to get to know each other more from a distance, though.”

For some reason, knowing that, the wad of worry in his gut unknotted a bit. Whatever this was between them seemed to be moving at lightning speed. He needed breathing room. But he could tell his mother was already infatuated. As sorry as he was to see his mother head back east, maybe it was for the best, to give this thing with John some time to…run its course. Army life had taught him long distance relationships were hard to maintain.

“You’re not saying anything,” Gretchen accused.

“It’s late, Mom. I’m sleepy. But I had to wait up because that’s what a good son does in case you two kids decided to run off to Las Vegas and tie the knot.”

Gretchen let out a laugh and slapped his knee. “Okay, then. Just checking. I’m off to bed now. You should get some sleep.”

Simon could only shake his head as he watched his level-headed mother float out of the room like she’d just been on her very first date. It was like a scene out of Back to the Future minus the part about kissing his mother. He just needed Doc Brown’s DeLorean, the time machine, so he could go back in time and make all this with John Dickinson go away.