Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Well, dis one looks pretty good.”

“I’m glad you think so. It’s a hard job, but somebody’s gotta do it.”

“I can do it! I can help!” Dawson squealed. “Momma says I’m the bestest helper. Please let me help, Ben!”

“Hmm, does your Mom know you’re outside?” Ben glanced back to the yard where Dawson had appeared.

“She’s outside too, playing with Jacy. I want to help! I want to be a flower man too.”

Ben didn’t see the mother, or any adult, but thought he could indulge the boy for a moment before checking. “Let’s see," Ben looked over the land, rubbing his chin, “what can Dawson do? I bet you’re good at moving stuff, aren’t you?”

“Yep!”

“Okay, well, how about every time I put a bush or flower in the ground, you move all that black-looking dirt over it?”

“What is the black stuff?”

“It’s called mulch.”

“Mull-ch,” Dawson sounded it out.

“Exactly. It protects the plants and makes sure they grow big and strong. And,” Ben paused dramatically, kneeling close to the boy with a whisper, “wanna know a secret?”

Dawson nodded with serious eyes.

“There’s an ingredient that makes it extra special. See how it smells kind of funny?” Ben cupped a palmful and wafted it under Dawson's nose. “Know what that smell is?”

Dawson shook his head, anticipating with wide eyes what was sure to be an important revelation.

“It’s cow doo-doo!” Ben said on a laugh.

“EWWW!” Dawson shrieked with laughter and jumped back from the now revealed yet not-so-impressive secret.

Jenna rested her foot on the pink and white soccer ball, then bent to grab it as she plopped to the ground for a breather. “Jacy baby, Momma’s gotta stop for a minute."

“Me too.” Jacy ran over, panting, even though Jenna knew she wasn’t out of breath in the slightest. Jenna grinned and welcomed the camaraderie as her little mini-me sighed and collapsed down beside her.

“I’m hungry,” Jacy declared. “What's for lunch?”

“We’ll have to dig up something. We need to go to the grocery, so maybe leftovers or sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches it is then.”

Come to think of it, Jenna realized, they were out of lunch meat too, so she’d have to use the old PB&J standby.

She’d planned to get groceries yesterday, but that idea was shot, along with all of her other weekend To Do’s, when Keith called early Saturday to say he wouldn’t be getting the kids this weekend.

She wasn’t sure why it seemed unbelievable to her that he’d abandoned them again. It was getting to be a trend now, more often the rule than the exception. But somehow, even after all the other times, she was still shocked a man treated his own children so carelessly. They were his flesh and blood. Who cared how he felt about her, but the children, the sweet children.

While Jacy relaxed in the warm sun and Jenna ran her fingers through her daughter’s soft hair, Jenna knew that while the kids might not mean much to Keith, they meant something to her. Everything to her, in fact.

So as hard as it was, she’d continue to put on a front for their sakes where their father was concerned. She’d keep smiling, maintain politeness when car seats, back packs, and overnight bags were exchanged, and try not to let any of her venting be overheard by little ears.

No matter how it cost her pride, she really did want civility between her and Keith. The kids deserved it. They’d done nothing wrong and she never wanted to give them an inkling otherwise.

She just prayed Keith would step up and begin to act like a father so at least some of her efforts at courtesy were deserved.

The kids were getting to an age where his absence and continual broken promises were obvious. They’d start to hurt soon, if they hadn’t already, and she did not want either of her babies on the receiving end of Keith's desertion.

She’d been there, and it wasn’t pretty.

Those first days and weeks after he’d left had been devastating. No getting out of bed, no eating, no feeling really. Just a void of emptiness. A black hole that swallowed her up every time she tried to do anything but sleep.

And even in sleep, she’d been disturbed. Dreams, unfortunately, could be just as real as life.

But she’d had a newborn and a three-year-old. She had no choice but to go on. Live for them. Move for them. Function normally so they could as well. And slowly, over the years, the void began to fill. The black turned to gray. And she began to feel like herself again . . . yet different.

Today, her world was color once more. She had Jacy and Dawson to thank for bringing every vibrant, brilliant ray she could imagine right back into her heart.

She still didn’t trust the majority of men—hello, celibacy vow. And she was still bitter. But she had a right to be, didn’t she?

Speaking of men, where was her boy?

“We need a flower man at our house,” Dawson said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Look.” He pointed again to the yard he had crossed from earlier. “No plants, and our pretty flowers are almost dead."

“What about your mom and dad? They not like planting?”

“Daddy doesn’t live with us. He lives with Susan.”

“Oh,” Ben nodded understanding.

“Dawson!” a female voice called, slightly frantic, from the direction of his yard.

“Somebody’s looking for you,” Ben noted.

“Yep, it’s Momma. She doesn’t like it if we go where she can’t see us. It’s a rule.”

“Well, you better not break the rules then.”

“Momma!” Dawson yelled at the top of his little lungs.

“Over here, ma’am,” Ben added his deeper voice to the mix and called to the woman rounding the corner from the backyard to the front.

“Good grief, Dawson! Get over here now! You scared me to death!” the woman yelled in a voice mixed with relief and exasperation. “Momma has told you not to go where I can’t see you!”

“See?” Dawson looked up at Ben.

Ben walked over, met the woman at the street. “Miss, I apologize. Dawson saw me and ran over. I teach his karate class—”

“Sensei!” Dawson yelled.

“Yes, Sensei,” Ben chuckled. “I took over the class for my brother, Joseph.”

“Oh,” the petite woman nodded, with again, Ben noted, relief.

“Ben Aston.” He held his hand out.

“Jenna.” Her slim hand encircled his for a quick and distracted shake. She was busy sending her boy a very motherly glare as he beamed up at her with angelic eyes.

Having been a boy once himself with a mother with a similar stare, Ben knew Dawson knew trouble awaited at home. The child began to plead his case. “Momma, it’s not a stranger. It’s Mr. Ben.”

Dawson leaned in, touched the leg of Ben’s jeans, as if to say
See, Mom, he’s nice
.

Ben couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face nor the amusement and seed of affection that sprouted somewhere in his heart.

He could see Dawson’s mother found the humor as well, but she was used to the tactic and remained stone-faced. “I see that, but you still shouldn’t have left the yard or crossed the street. We have talked about this, Dawson.”

The boy hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Ben put his fingers to Dawson’s bowed head, gave it a quick rub. “I do apologize for keeping him.”

Jenna turned her attention to Ben and finally smiled. “No, it’s fine. And I’m sorry I haven't had the chance to meet you yet. Dawson’s father or our babysitter usually drops him off and picks him up for karate. Tuesdays are my late night at work.”

Interesting. Ben had always wondered if the guy who was about as friendly as a stump was the boy’s father. He cruised in and out, sometimes not even entering the classroom, just signaling for Dawson to leave. He’d never said a word to Ben.

“He’s doing just great in class. He’s got lots of energy and follows instructions well.”

Dawson perked up, grinned at Ben, then his mother.

“Thank you. He does listen sometimes.” Jenna bent and poked a finger in Dawson’s stomach, much to his delight. "Okay, Dawson, time to come on home. We’ve got a lot to do today and I’m about to fix lunch. Your favorite, peanut butter and strawberry jelly.”

“Aww, I was having fun with the cow doo-doo.”

Ben bit back a burst of laughter and addressed Jenna’s raised brows. “It was mulch, ma’am." He motioned to his truck. “We’re working on some of the new construction out here.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.”

Ben looked down at Dawson. “All right, no more breaking the rules. Go on home now. I’ll be back. See all these new houses being built?” Dawson nodded. "If I do real good on this one, I’ll hopefully get to make all those yards great.”

“What about ours?”

“Now that’s something to ask your mom. But not right now. Run on home.”

“‘Kay. Bye, Ben,” he yelled, setting off at a run. “See you in kick class!

“Bye, buddy.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said, herding Dawson in the direction of home. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

As the boy crossed over to his own lot, Ben heard Dawson’s plea to his mother to make their yard pretty, too.

Whew
, Ben thought as he knelt and began digging in the dirt.
Cute kid, cuter Mom.

THREE

Jenna rushed down the back hall of the clinic, ducked into her office, pulling a sticky note off the door as she entered, and flipped the switch. Her small, cozy space flooded with light and she pushed the door to so she could have a moment to clear her mind and get started on the morning routine.

New patient at nine
, she reminded herself.
Best foot forward and don’t be late!

So thinking, she plucked her phone from her purse and dropped the bag in the deep bottom drawer of her desk. She grabbed her lab coat hanging on the back of the door, shrugged into it and pocketed the phone just as it began a series of beeps—a reminder that her appointment started in twenty minutes.

She managed a quick glance in the mirror before starting off down the hall again.

She hated being late. And yet, ironically, she usually was. Well, not technically late, but right on time. Which was just as stressful to her as being late.

She’d tried and tried to shift schedules, bedtimes and breakfast times, so she and the kids could get out the door early, but no matter how she tweaked the routine, it seemed time always slipped away in those first morning hours.

Well, she thought smiling, at least giggles at the breakfast table were the cause of the cramp in this morning’s schedule. She’d take that over bickering any day.

She rounded the corner, thinking it had been too long since her last cup of coffee, when she ran smack into Molly.

“Oh, I’m sorry! And good morning, Molly,” Jenna called back with a wave as she kept her pace.

“‘Morning,” Molly replied quietly.

Glancing over her shoulder, Jenna realized Molly hadn’t moved and stood expressionless in the doorway to her workspace.

Concerned, she turned, walked back. “You okay?”

“You’re still mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“No.” Jenna slapped playfully at Molly’s arm. “Water under the bridge.”

Molly eyed her suspiciously. “It just happened Friday.”

“And?”

“And I’m sorry! I really am. I just can’t believe Todd would say that.”

Jenna pursed her lips. “He would. He did.”

“I know. I just . . .” Molly’s chestnut bob swung as she shook her head, reinforcing her disapproval and bewilderment. After Jenna's play-by-play of Friday’s date, Molly had done a sincere job of apologizing for being the match-maker of the ill-fated meeting, but she obviously felt like she still wasn’t all the way out of Jenna's doghouse.

Professionally speaking, Molly was usually the calm yen to Jenna’s sometimes frenzied yang, but now she fidgeted nervously as she rushed on in a continued appeal for her forgiveness. “It’s not only rude, but it doesn’t even make sense. I could’ve sworn I told him about Dawson. He knew about Jacy—remember I told you I saw him that day I picked her up from school? He was getting his niece. Anyway, I could’ve just sworn . . . . And even if I did forget, I don’t see the issue.”

Jenna shrugged. “The issue was him, us. It didn’t work out. Come to think of it,” she held up a finger, "most of my dates—especially those set-up ones—usually don’t."

“Sorry?” Molly squeaked out sheepishly, scrunching up her face.

“I know. I know. We’re both sorry. I’ve got an idea to make amends though.”

Molly straightened, and a look other than regret finally passed over her. “Tell me. Anything.”

“It’s a biggie. But here are my terms.” Jenna inhaled dramatically. “No more matchmaking. No more set-ups. No more men.”