Authors: Lisa Logan
His breath game in ragged gasps. “Helping…dishes. I fell down.”
“
Duh,” the girl observed. “I told you not to. You’re too little.”
Tears ebbed away enough to be replaced with a flow of anger. “I am not. I’m big.”
Twyla pried the boy’s fingers, which were splotched with sticky redness, away from the knee. The cut was deep. Definitely needed stitches.
A wave of nausea passed over her. The sight of her children hurt was something she’d never grown used to. She didn’t have Andrew’s constitution, that was for sure. Twyla tried to keep her voice upbeat. “I think we need to see the doctor for this, baby.”
“
No! No doctor.”
“
But we need to, so your ouchie will get better.”
“
Daddy. I want Daddy!”
“
Daddy’s hospital is far away.”
“
Daddy!”
The tears shot forth again, and Twyla’s heart sank. Of course the boy wanted his father. If only his father could manage to get home at a decent hour once in a while, maybe he would have been here for this.
Maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all.
She sighed, brushing off the urge to blame Andy for something that wasn’t his fault. “Okay. Let’s call Daddy.”
Andy finally came on the line after several minutes of hold music. He sounded out of breath and annoyed. “Can this wait until morning, hon? I’m in the middle of ten things.”
She fought to retain a civilized tone through gritted teeth. “No, it can’t wait. The baby’s hurt.”
“
He’s almost three, Twyla. Not a baby. What happened?”
“
Fell and cut his leg on some glass. He needs stitches and wants you to do it.”
A deep breath whooshed out on the other end. She could picture her husband standing in blue surgical scrubs, running a hand through tousled hair just barely damp with the exertion of helping a busy Emergency Room run smoothly.
“
It’s well over an hour to John F. Kennedy.”
“
Tyler wants Daddy to stitch him up.”
“
You shouldn’t encourage that. He won’t want anyone else. Can someone come watch the others while you run him over to Doylestown? It’s less than half the distance.”
Anger spiked, and her careful tone broke. “So, you’re refusing to take care of your own son?”
“
Christ, that’s damn unfair. You’re being a little selfish, don’t you think?”
“
I’m
being selfish? Your son wants you and I mistakenly thought you’d give a damn.”
“
I’m not going to do this with you, Twyla. I’m thinking of Tyler here, and you should be, too.”
“
I am thinking of him, and what he wants is for you to help him.”
“
It’s late, the kids should be in bed, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m up to my armpits in disaster here. If you insist on putting him through the long drive for me to see him, he’ll be waiting most of the night. Take him to Doylestown and you can get him cared for and back in bed a lot sooner.”
Her heart hammered as she tried to calm herself enough for the logic in his words to make sense to the part of her that emotion currently ruled. She gazed at her son, sitting small and pale on the kitchen chair. The ice pack she’d given him sat abandoned on the table.
Logic, her ass.
“
Fine. I’ll take him to Doylestown.”
His voice relaxed a bit, but still held a wary edge. “Want me to talk to him and explain?”
“
No, Andy. I’ll take care of it.” The way she did everything else.
“
He’ll be fine. I’ll check with you in the morning before I drive in. Call me from Doylestown if anything comes up that I should know about.”
After a quick call to have a neighbor down the street watch Jenna and Cody, Twyla made the drive to Doylestown while trying to put things in perspective. That Andy no longer put her first came as no surprise. They’d been in a romantic rut since med school, and the kids coming along only complicated things. How many other couples couldn’t even manage to make love once a month? She was a grown woman and did her best to be understanding about that. But making the kids take a backseat to his work was something else altogether. That was much harder to understand—and forgive.
It was nearly daylight before she finally climbed into bed. Dominique’s words drifted back, about their cause needing more help. As she reached for the phone, a tiny corner of her mind pinged at her to stop. But Twyla was tired of being the family champion, fighting for their cause alone because Andy didn’t seem to realize there was something to fight for. Or that she was a woman, not just a wife and mother and cook and chauffeur. Maybe she could use something to shake things up and prove that to herself, too. If there was some way she could help her friends without putting everything on the line, she would do it.
“
Remember, you don’t have to go all the way,” Dominique said. “Just get enough photo evidence for it to look good. This guy will cave easy.”
“
And what if he gets a bit testy when I don’t put out?”
“
So what? Let him fuss and walk away. You won’t be in danger. The wife was questioned very carefully, and he’s got zero history of aggression. Quite the opposite.”
“
I guess.”
“
Besides, you took that self-defense class.”
Twyla’s mouth fell open. “That’s supposed to make me feel better? It’s not like I’ve ever actually used any of that stuff. I’m a soccer mom, not the Karate Kid!”
“
Nothing’s going to happen. I was just trying to make you feel more secure.”
“
You failed.”
“
There’s another safety feature we can use, if you want.”
Twyla raised a brow. “What’s that?”
“
A panic button. If things get too crazy, just push it and the cavalry will ride in.”
“
What are you talking about?”
Dominique shrugged. “I’ve got a friend who’d be willing to hang around outside. Give the signal, he busts in.”
“
Does he know about our little sideline?”
“
Of course not. He thinks he’s like a date chaperone. Willing to help a gal out for a few extra bucks.”
Twyla sighed in a combination of relieved frustration. “Since I’m supposed to get friendly with this guy, where the heck am I supposed to hide a panic button?”
Dominique smiled. “My dear, you juggle a husband, your house, three kids, and a carpool. I’m confident you’ll think of something.”
* * *
Twyla stood at the side of the road, tapping a fingernail against the glossy paint of her SUV as she held the phone to her ear. The whole thing was her fault, really. She’d been dumb enough to ask herself what else could go wrong today, and bam. Andy called, deflating her plans for the evening just like the tire the tow truck driver was in the process of wedging off of her car.
“
Mom says they’ll be over for dinner at seven,” he was saying.
She had to work to keep her voice even, especially over the din of passing traffic. “I thought you were working late tonight?”
“
I decided to come home early.”
She rolled her eyes. Of course he would, for good old Mom.
“
Is that a problem?” His voice held a hint of challenge. “I mean, it’s not like you had other plans or anything, did you?”
“
The kids won’t be there,” she pressed. “They’re spending the night with friends.”
“
They can cancel. Or we can make it a grownup night.”
Twyla sighed. Figures his idea of a grownup night would involve his parents. Still, there was little she could do about the surprise dinner visit that wouldn’t come off sounding suspicious.
“
Okay,” she said. “Steak kabobs and salad?”
“
No onions, remember? They react badly with Dad’s new medication.”
“
Right. Sorry, doctor.”
“
Funny. See you tonight.”
He hung up without even saying the usual rote “Love you”.
“
All set.”
A clipboard thrust out at her. She signed for her roadside assistance, then climbed into the cab with her cell phone still in hand.
An emergency meeting with Tyler’s teacher, two bounced checks to straighten out with the bank, a flat tire, and now Andy’s parents were coming for dinner. If the universe was trying to tell her not to go through with tonight, it succeeded. There was no way she’d make her clandestine meeting on schedule, anyway. Maybe she’d been kidding herself in thinking she could do it.
She was nearly out to the Turnpike, and now she’d have to beat an hour-plus retreat home and hope Andy didn’t get there first and hear from the babysitter that his wife had planned to be gone all evening. She flipped open the cell to call her and smooth the way.
Twyla sighed and pressed a few buttons on her cell as she twisted the ignition key. She had another call to make, one Dominique was not going to like.
* * *
“
What do you mean, you can’t make it?”
Dominique frowned, squinting against the onslaught of late afternoon sun through her windshield. If there was one thing that made a cell phone conversation harder to hear than being on the road, it was when your caller was driving, too. She pressed the silver rectangle tighter against the wispy scarf covering her head, scowling into the rearview as much to try and hear Twyla’s frantic tale as to will the idiot in a silver sedan to back off the ass crack of her car.
“
Andy decided on a family dinner tonight.”
“
Can’t you make up an excuse?”
“
It’d be too suspicious. I mean, the man thinks my electrons spin around his atomic center. I’m not supposed to have a life apart from that.”
Whipping around a slug in a station wagon, Dominique sighed. She really shouldn’t be surprised Twyla was backing out. Despite her talk of wanting a taste of excitement, she obviously wasn’t ready to deal with it. A hangnail could have thrown a wrench in these works.
“
I’m sorry,” Twyla told her, and that part sounded earnest enough. “He never takes off early from work. I think the gods are conspiring against me.”
“
Don’t worry about it. I’ll go.”
“
You? I thought he liked blondes?”
“
When have I ever given you reason to doubt my feminine charms?”
The other woman snorted. “Never. And thanks. I’d wish you luck, but I doubt you’ll need it.”
“
Much better.”
With a half smile, Dominique she flipped her cell shut and glanced at the dashboard clock. It would be tight, no doubt. She barely had time to get to New York and hit the Night Cap Lounge, where their quarry drowned imagined male sorrows after work. Yep, she could dish up a hot platter of justice to a deserving man, and she’d just had her hair done for the occasion.
“
No fucking way.” Ridelle flipped brown locks aside as she stared out the front window of Twyla’s no-nonsense SUV, the sun visor barely shielding her from the late afternoon sun peering in the side window.
“
Exactly. That’s the problem.”
“
I still don’t believe it. Dominique Devereaux turned down by a man?”
Twyla shrugged as she looked over a shoulder and changed lanes. “I’ll admit, it does shake ones’ belief in humanity.”
Traffic was pressed, but steady as they braved the 495 near Queens in the Bratmobile, as Ridelle fondly and privately referred to it. She liked kids, but Twyla’s brood was a bit high-spirited for her tastes. Last time she’d ridden with the lot, she emerged with a blow pop stuck to the back of her hair.
“
How’s Dom taking it?” Ridelle asked.
“
She’s not, but trying to hide the fact. “I’ll bet admitting she couldn’t get Chester Harrison to give her the time of day was one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do.”
“
Well, the guy prefers blondes. That’s why you were supposed to do it.”
Twyla flinched. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“
I don’t mean that. Just that Dom shouldn’t take it personally that she wasn’t his target demographic.”
“
Dom believed she was above that sort of thing. I think this really shook her confidence.”
“
It was just one guy. She’s Dominique. She’ll bounce back.”
“
I don’t know,” Twyla said with a shake of her head. “She’s been acting so weird since it happened. She’s never around and doesn’t return half her messages. Missed two lunches in a row. When you do talk to her, her brain’s a zip code away.”