Love Has The Best Intentions (11 page)

April whirled, Beth’s happy chant fading in
her ears. Kevin stood a few feet away, one hand clutching the
fingers of a toddler with enormous blue eyes.

Kevin. Kevin and a son who had eyes so like
his father’s that April’s heart somersaulted in her chest.
Why
are you surprised?
A voice in her head mocked her. In a town
this size, it was only natural that Kevin would bring his child to
the park where he himself had played.

“April!” Kevin rushed forward. Crushed
against his chest in a hug of genuine warmth that brought tears to
her eyes, she heard him exclaim, “Let me look at you!”

He held her at arm’s length. “Hair’s still
honey blonde and no man could forget those knockout eyes the rich
brown of molasses. A fine wine couldn’t have aged better.”

April bit her lip, tasted blood before
responding. “The combination of honey and molasses sounds
revoltingly sweet. How are you, Kevin?”

He continued, ignoring the question. “Almost
couldn’t believe my ears when a school board member mentioned you’d
applied for a teaching position. I thought when you shook the dust
of our town from your sandals that we’d never see you again,
especially after your parents moved to Florida.”

She listened for a sting behind the words,
but heard only ordinary politeness and matched his tone. “I’ve just
arrived and the girls are burning off surplus energy before we
unpack the car. I guess it’s no coincidence running into you
here.”

Kevin grinned. “Weather permitting, as soon
as I get home I put on my jeans and we hike over for a little fun
together.”

“He’s adorable.” April studied the boy
crouched beside the sandbox and now engaged in pouring sand into a
tiny pail. Resentment swelled in her breast towards Joseph’s
mother, the woman perceptive enough to accept Kevin as the
wonderful husband and father he undoubtedly was. I was too young to
know what I wanted, she thought.

“Is this your little sweetheart?” Kevin knelt
to make Beth’s acquaintance and April decided that a business suit
couldn’t look any better on his long legged form than the snug blue
jeans.

“That’s Beth.” The little girl giggled when
he patted her knee.

“How long have you been married? Any other
kids?”

“Annie’s over there, she’s seven.” April
pointed towards the jungle gym. “I’m not married anymore.”

The simple sentence couldn’t begin to cover
the heartbreak resulting from her husband’s announcement that he
was seeking a divorce because he’d fallen in love with his
receptionist. Rob’s new bride didn’t want children—at least not
Annie and Beth.

So far, Beth seemed for the most part unaware
of her father’s desertion, but gallant Annie’s sufferings surfaced
in nightmares and midnight bouts of tears. Desperate to provide the
security her daughters needed, the only solution which came to
April’s mind was a move back to where she had flourished in an
atmosphere of love.

Seeking to brush over the awkward pause,
April smiled at Joseph. “Is he your first?”

“And only.” Kevin’s mouth tightened before he
continued, “His mother died about a year ago in a car
accident.”

As he spoke, April saw the flash of pain in
his eyes. She felt guilty and confused—embarrassed at having envied
a dead woman. Knowing that Kevin was free again added to the
tension and she turned to help Beth out of the swing, avoiding his
gaze.

Did he think she had come looking for him
because her marriage failed? Face burning, she perceived that
applying for a job here had been the act of a child seeking to
alter the past. Her vehement rejection of Kevin’s love had haunted
her, perhaps even contributed to the failure of her own marriage.
Subconsciously, she might have unfairly compared Rob to Kevin,
seeing in her husband only a shadow of the qualities which made
this man so special.

April realized she was staring at the stand
of oaks where her younger self had faced a crossroads and taken the
wrong turning. Seeking love and fulfillment out in the world, when
she’d already held the precious treasure in her hand and chose to
throw it away. I didn’t know, she reflected sorrowfully, but my
immaturity was no excuse for behaving with such cruelty.

“You probably won’t feel up to making supper
tonight and I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker that’s too big for
the two of us.” Kevin dusted the sand from the knees of his small
son’s overalls. “How about coming over for a hot meal?”

A dark lock of hair curled against his
forehead. April remembered the feel of it, silky smooth, and
suddenly she couldn’t bear the kindness in his voice. Time’s river
had flowed between them, carving a chasm too deep to cross. They
must part as strangers, but she had something to say first.

April gripped Beth’s hand tightly for
courage. “Remember what happened the last time we were in this
park?”

A sigh, wistful as the wind in trees. “I
remember.”

“All these years I’ve wanted to tell you...”
Her throat closed up with tears and she swallowed hard. “To tell
you that I’m sorry.”

He was silent, granting her the dignity to
continue. “I couldn’t sleep knowing that I’d hurt you. At 5:30 the
next morning, I was back here crawling on my knees in the wet grass
looking for the ring. Not finding it, I lacked the courage to
apologize and when I think of what might have been—”

“You know, ‘might have been’ are three of the
saddest words in the English language.” Kevin stooped and picked up
a small object lying on the ground near a picnic table. “But
they’re only words. Powerless words. This isn’t gold, but maybe it
will do. Hold out your hand.”

She watched as Kevin slipped a cigar band on
her finger. “Once love is given, it can’t be lost in the grass,
April, or thrown away, but becomes a part of your soul and enriches
your life forever.”

His eyes seemed to look back over the
vanished years and dismiss them. “Consider this a token of
friendship. Now the lost ring is no longer a barrier between
us.”

Her gaze dropped to the narrow paper circle.
It was light, insubstantial as thistledown on her finger, but she
cherished it as a symbol of hope, of new beginnings, more than any
golden band. The past was the pat, but with the warmth of his gaze,
Kevin was telling her that the wonderful future awaited her—perhaps
them.

Beckoning to Annie, April smiled back at
Kevin. “I accept your offer of a hot meal. And friendship.”

THE END

Sleeping with
Dr. Dee

My personal train of disaster left the
station the day Petey borrowed his sister’s toy mop to scrub the
bathroom floor. While disagreeing with his method of execution, I
appreciated his logic. To a two year old, bothering with a bucket
is ridiculous when one has a handy source of water in the
toilet.

While he was thus engaged, I dozed,
oblivious, with my cheek pillowed on the bills I was supposed to be
paying. I’d been up all night with Emily who suffered from both a
bad cold and a particularly nasty nightmare. While the children
were napping snug in their beds, I mistakenly allowed my own heavy
lids to close.

I awoke only when the splashing in the toilet
reached the crescendo of a shark feeding frenzy. Not content with
flooding the bathroom, Petey had enlisted the aid of his older
brother and sister in cleaning the hallway carpeting.

When my husband arrived home, expecting the
scents and sight of a sustaining meal, he found his wife clearing
the dining room of toys and three children still sulking that their
attempt to help Mommy had been so cruelly spurned.

Sighing like a man who’s just learned that
the football game has been pre-empted by a televised presidential
speech, Alan loosed his tie and pitched in to help. I stiffened at
the implied rebuke in that sigh. My day had been as equally
exhausting as his and not nearly as well compensated.

“It’s been a long day,” I muttered. “The
children tried to help me.”

“Ah.” Alan didn’t say it like someone about
to pour the balm of understanding on a wounded spirit. It was more
of I’m-tired-of-coming-home-to-a-mess-again type of “ah”, the kind
that always sets my lips in a firm line.

After the birth of our youngest, I’d deserted
the hectic world of part-time real estate sales for the even more
chaotic one of full-time parenting. Days like today made the
problem of selling a luxury townhouse situated near an incinerator
sound like a pleasant challenge.

Blessing casseroles that come in a box, I
whipped dinner into the oven and then onto the table, which Alan
had set. Conversation lagged over the uninspired meal like a kid
with a pebble in his shoe; the children were sullen and feeling
unappreciated and, frankly, so was I.

After the usual struggle, the trio of trouble
was bathed, read to, and tucked into bed. Alan and I were stacking
dishes in the dishwasher when he finally mumbled, “Tough day,
huh?”

“You have no idea,” I said, rinsing the
casserole dish. Hoping to prolong our little tete-a-tete, I decided
to share an amusing incident that had happened today in the grocery
store.

Before I could plunge into my story, however,
Alan wiped his hands on a dishtowel and kissed the air in the
vicinity of my cheek. “Pre-game starts in ten minutes. Gonna warm
up the set.”

I’d rather he warmed up his wife.
Slam-dunking a glass, I realized that the bloom was definitely off
the marital rose. Alan’s a wonderful father and, when he can be
induced to concentrate on me instead of a job, crabgrass, or
televised sports, a thoughtful husband and lover. Musing on the
urgency of adding spice to our stew of wedded bliss, I crammed the
casserole dish into a space only big enough for a cup, added soap,
and switched on the dishwasher.

I was wiping down the countertops and trying
to come up with a plan to shorten the pro basketball season, when
the phone rang.

Estelle’s familiar trill. “Rose, you bad
girl! Fancy keeping it a secret! You are too smart for words!”

I made my usual witty response when accused
of cleverness. “Huh?”

“Winnie called me. Peg called Winnie. Nancy
called Peg—by now it’s probably all over town.”

I still was groping in the dark. “It?
Estelle, what are you babbling about?”

“He’s so intense! A little short and on the
chunky side, but I like a man to be solid. He seems so
understanding—most mothers swear by his bedside manner.” A girlish
giggle. “And those hands! Strong and slim, made to explore a
woman’s most secret places. But then, I don’t have to tell you
about that.”

Her sly emphasis, as well as her words, had
me completely baffled. Was she describing a romance hero or a
gynecologist?

When she paused for breath, I snatched the
conversational reins away from her. “Estelle, would you kindly stop
blathering and tell me who and what you’re talking about?”

Silence. Then, in a hurt voice, she said, “I
thought we were friends, Rose. Don’t friends share things? Okay,
keep the juicy details to yourself then. After all, it’s your
affair.”

A click in my ear and I was listening to the
dial tone. Deciding that Estelle needed a vacation from monitoring
the gossip, I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. Before I could
sink my teeth into its firm flesh, the meaning of Estelle’s coy
innuendos sank in.

I snatched up the phone and dialed her
number, brushing aside her rather grumpy greeting. “Spill it,
Estelle! What rumor has tarred my reputation?”

“It’s all over town, Rose. As your friend,
I’m disappointed at being one of the last to know. But Nancy was
actually there, in the grocery store with you. She heard what Petey
said. Out of the mouth of babes...”

“But Nancy misunderstood—”

“Rose, I know how it is. I sympathize,
believe me. I just should have put it together sooner. You’ve been
complaining about all the hours Alan’s been spending at the office
and then in the next breath telling me that you took poor Emily to
the doctor again for a sore throat or earache or something.”

During this speech, I’d been frantically
trying to break in with a refutation, but Estelle rolled on with
the momentum of a ten ton boulder. “You should have told me, Rose.
I can keep a secret.”

Dazed, I cut the connection, remembering the
incident. I’d hushed Petey immediately, thinking we were alone near
the frozen pizzas, but Nancy and her ferret-keen ears must have
been lurking in an adjoining aisle. Close enough to hear the
announcement uttered in a two year old’s most piercing tones: “This
morning Mommy slept with Dr. Dee!”

Despite Estelle’s cutesy remarks about strong
hands exploring a woman’s secret places, Dr. Dee is a pediatrician,
and a good one. He’s probably five years younger than I am and
wears heavy black glasses, the type Cary Grant used to flaunt in
his more scholarly movie roles.

Dr. Dee is married, has tots of his own, and
a thriving practice. Which may or may not continue to flourish now
that a distorted truth is travelling the town informational super
highway. Petey was correct—I did sleep with Dr. Dee this
morning.

Since Estelle was out of reach, I bit into
the apple. It tasted bitter. The phone chirped and I picked it up
with a cautious hand.

“Hi, Rose.”

“Karen!” I nearly burst into tears of relief.
“I’m glad it’s you.”

“You won’t be after I get through scolding
you. We’ve got to talk, girlfriend.”

“Don’t talk about friendship—I’ve already
been subjected tonight to Estelle’s twisted version. And, Karen,
before you condemn, I’ve got an explanation.”

“Did you sleep with Dr. Dee?” my best friend
demanded. “I’ve heard three different versions, including one where
the two of you were caught grappling on the kiddie table in the
reception area of his office. That account involved building
blocks, but the details were just a little bit fuzzy ...”