“How is she?” Jeannette stood.
“She’ll be fine. It’s a Grade 1 sprain, which is the least serious. I wrapped it to help control the swelling and decrease the pain. The treatment is simple—rest, ice, compression, and elevation. The swelling should go down within a few days. Susan’s explaining that to the Shabos.” He motioned toward Thomma, who was talking on the cell in low tones.
“Will she be able to watch the girls at your house?”
“I’d rather she stick close to home tomorrow. After that . . . as long as she stays off her feet as much as possible, she should be able to come. I may take Molly to their apartment tomorrow, if Mariam’s up to it. Or I could see if the woman Reverend Baker found for me would be willing to come to our house for one day. In the meantime, thank you for filling in for the rest of today. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me.” His gaze locked with hers.
She swallowed and fumbled for Molly’s hand. “I, uh, guess we’ll go on home. Will Toby be all right in his cage for another hour or two, while I finish up in my workshop?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go over and get him after that for a walk on the beach.”
“He’ll love that—but be warned. If you let him off the leash, roundup can be a challenge.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thank you again for the offer of beach access, by the way. We’ve used it twice. It’s much more convenient than piling into the car and driving down 101 to take a walk.”
“My pleasure.”
Sort of.
As Logan took the phone from Thomma and spoke with Susan, Jeannette busied herself collecting her purse.
In truth, it had been kind of bittersweet to watch through the kitchen window as the three occupants of the house next door had traipsed through her garden to the beach access.
And it had set off a powerful longing deep inside her.
One so strong it had tempted her to emerge from the shadows inside her house and see if she could finagle another invitation to join them.
But she’d resisted.
Mightily.
Her life in Hope Harbor was perfect just as it was. She’d planned every detail, built a business that suited her to a T, kept herself too busy to reminisce . . . or mourn . . . or be lonely.
So what if every day was 100 percent predictable? Consistency was good. Routine didn’t have to be stale or boring. It could be comforting.
And after three years, she saw no reason to change a single thing.
Trouble was . . . things were changing around her.
In fact—some days it kind of felt like she was losing control.
And that was not comforting.
“I think we’re all set.” Logan pocketed the cell phone Thomma handed him and dropped to the balls of his feet in front of Molly. “Ms. Mason’s going to take you home with her until I get off work, sweetie. You can call me on the phone if you want to, though. She’ll help you if you ask.”
Molly looked past him to the Shabos. “Is Elisa coming?”
“Not today. Her daddy’s going to take her and her grandma home. But she’ll be back the day after tomorrow, after Mrs. Shabo’s ankle isn’t as swollen.” He gave her a quick hug, but the girl didn’t reciprocate.
Apparently there’d been no progress on the bonding front.
Logan stood and pulled out his keys again. “Unless you have a car seat, you’ll have to transfer mine to your car.” He held out the ring as a new patient arrived with a blood-soaked towel wrapped around his arm. “You can just leave them at the desk.”
“Thanks.” She took the fob.
As Logan said a fast good-bye and disappeared into the treatment area, Mariam looked up at her. “English?”
Oh yeah.
They were scheduled for a lesson tonight.
That wasn’t going to happen.
“Tomorrow? Tuesday?” This week’s three lessons would be back-to-back, but that was better than skipping one.
Mariam tipped her head up toward Thomma and spoke in Arabic. He nodded.
“Okay.” The woman smiled at her. “Thank you. Seven?”
“Yes.” Meeting at a later time now that Mariam was working had ended up being far less disruptive to her day.
Jeannette took Molly’s hand and followed the family out of the urgent care center, Thomma wheeling his mother.
After they waved good-bye to the family, she switched the car seat, buckled her charge into the restraint, dropped Logan’s keys at the desk, and took the wheel. In the rearview mirror, she watched the girl tracking the progress of her friend, who was being secured into her car seat a few vehicles away.
Those two had really connected.
And despite the language barrier, they didn’t seem to have any difficulty communicating.
That was a blessing for both of them.
Especially since Thomma appeared to have distanced himself from his daughter, and Molly was resisting Logan’s attempts to connect.
It was also a blessing for her.
If the girls didn’t have each other, she’d have been tempted to step in, see if she could ease the deep sadness in Molly’s eyes and try to help her connect with her uncle.
Jeannette put the car in gear and backed out of the parking spot.
As it was, she could entertain Molly for a few hours this afternoon, maybe offer to watch her tomorrow if Logan couldn’t find anyone else, then slip back to her side of the hedge—and the life she’d had before her new neighbors and a traumatized family had disrupted her orderly existence.
And reminded her how much she missed the loving relationships that had once brightened her world.
15
Logan crested the dune at the end of the access trail behind Jeannette’s house and paused to survey Driftwood Beach.
As had been the case on his two previous visits, the vast expanse was almost deserted.
Only three figures were visible today—a little girl with a strawberry-blonde ponytail, a cavorting beagle, and a dark-haired woman trying in vain to coax the dog close enough to snap on a leash.
“Come on, Toby. Cooperate. We have to go home.”
Her frustration-laced plea floated up to him as she approached the dog.
Toby hunkered down on his front paws, waited until she got within inches of reaching distance—then dashed off with a happy, catch-me-if-you-can yip to hide behind one of the large, sculpture-like pieces of driftwood arrayed behind the high-water line.
Typical.
Grinning, Logan adjusted the blanket draped over his shoulder, tightened his grip on the bags in his hands, and started down to the beach. “It might be easier to round him up if we tag team this.”
As he parroted back the words she’d said to him when the situation had been reversed, Jeannette whipped around, cheeks flushed. “You weren’t kidding about trying to corral him.”
“Nope. But let’s give him a reprieve while we eat dinner. Hi, sweetie.” He bent to kiss the top of Molly’s head.
Jeannette’s gaze moved from the blanket to the bags in his hands, brow crinkling. “Dinner?”
“Yes.” He set the sacks on the sand and spread out the blanket. He wasn’t taking no for an answer tonight—if he could help it. “I brought Charley’s tacos and picked up some brownies from Sweet Dreams. It was the least I could do after you bailed me out with Molly today.”