“Six! Then...”
She forced herself to look at Troy steadily while he did the math. Saw his eyes harden as he realized her son must have been conceived right around the time she’d left town.
Heat rose in her cheeks as the familiar feeling of shame twisted her insides. But she couldn’t let herself go there. “Xavier is a well-behaved kid.” At least most of the time. “He loves animals and he’s gentle with them.”
Troy was still frowning.
He was going to refuse her, angry about the way she’d left him, and then what would she do? How would she achieve the goal she’d set for herself, to fulfill as many of Xavier’s wishes as she could? This was such a perfect arrangement.
“I really need this job, Troy.” She hated to beg, but for Xavier, she’d do it.
He looked away, out at the fields, and she did, too. Sun on late-summer corn tassels, puffy clouds in a blue sky. Xavier would love it so.
“If you ever felt anything for me...” Her throat tightened and she had to force out the words. “If any of your memories about me are good, please give me the job.”
He turned back toward her, eyes narrowing. “Why do you need it so badly?”
She clenched her hands in her lap. “Because my son wants to be close to Gramps. And because he loves animals.”
“Most people don’t organize their careers around their kids’ hankerings.”
She drew in a breath. “Well, I do.”
His expression softened a little. “This job...it might not be what you want. It’s just until my leg heals. The doc says it could be three, four months before I’m fully back on my feet. Once that happens, I won’t need an assistant anymore.”
She swallowed and squeezed her hands together. Lord, I know I’m supposed to let You lead, but this seems so right. Not for me, but for Xavier, and that’s what matters. It is of You, isn’t it?
No answer from above, but the roar of a truck engine pierced the country quiet.
Oh no. Gramps was back too soon. He’d never gotten along with Troy, never trusted him on account of his conflicts with Troy’s dad. But she didn’t want the two men’s animosity to get in the way of what both she and her son wanted and needed.
The truck stopped again at the end of the driveway. Gramps got out, walked around to the passenger door.
She surged from her chair. “No, don’t!” she called, but the old man didn’t hear her. She started down the porch steps
Troy called her back. “It’s okay, they can come up. Regardless of what we decide about the job, maybe your son would like to see the dogs, look around the place.”
“There’s nothing he’d like better,” she said, “but I don’t want to get his hopes up if this isn’t going to work out.”
Troy’s forehead wrinkled as he stared out toward the truck, watching as Gramps helped Xavier climb out.
Angelica rarely saw her son from this distance, and now, watching Gramps steady him, her hand rose to her throat. He looked as thin as a scarecrow. His baseball cap couldn’t conceal the fact that he had almost no hair.
Her eyes stung and her breathing quickened as if she were hyperventilating. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, hard, and pressed her lips together.
Gramps held Xavier’s arm as they made slow progress down the driveway. The older supporting the younger, opposite of how it should be.
Troy cleared his throat. “Like I said, the job won’t be long-term. I...it looks like you and your son have some...issues. You might want to find something more permanent.”
His kind tone made her want to curl up and cry for a couple of weeks, but she couldn’t go there. She clenched her fists. “I know the job is short-term.” Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, she added, “That’s okay with us. We take things a day at a time.”
“Why’s that?” His gaze remained on the pair making their slow way up the driveway.
He was going to make her say it. She took a shuddering breath and forced out the words. “Because the doctors aren’t sure how long his remission will last.”
* * *
Troy stared at Xavier, forgetting to breathe. Remission? “Remission from what?”
Angelica cleared her throat. “Leukemia. He has...a kind that’s hard to beat.”
Every parent’s nightmare. Instinctively he reached out to pat her shoulder, the way he’d done so many times with pet owners worried about seriously ill pets.
She flinched and sidled away.
Fine! Anger flared up at the rejection and he gripped the porch railing and tamped it down. Her response was crystal clear. She didn’t want any physical contact between them.
But no matter his own feelings, no matter what Angelica had done to him, the past was the past. This pain, the pain of a mother who might lose her child, was in the present, and Angelica’s worn-down appearance suddenly made sense.
And no matter whose kid Xavier was...no matter who she’d cheated on him with...the boy was an innocent, and the thought of a child seriously, maybe terminally, ill made Troy’s heart hurt.
Again he suppressed his emotions as his medical instincts went into overdrive. “What kind of doctors has he seen? Have you gotten good treatments, second opinions?”
She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t begin to tell you how many doctors and opinions.”
“But are they the best ones? Have you tried the Cleveland—”
“Troy!” She blew out a jagged breath. “Look, I don’t need medical interference right now. I need a job.”
“But—”
“Don’t you think I’ve done everything in my power to help him?” She turned away and walked down the steps toward her son. Her back was stiff, her shoulders rigid.
He lifted a hand to stop her and then let it fall. Way to go, Hinton. Great social skills.
He’d find out more, would try to do something to help. Obviously Angelica hadn’t done well financially since she left him and left town. Xavier’s father must have bolted. And without financial resources, getting good medical care wasn’t easy.
“Mom! Did you get the job?”
Angelica shot Troy a quick glance. “It’s still being decided.”
The boy’s face fell. Then he nodded and bit his lip. “It’s okay, Mama. But can we at least see the dogs?”
“Absolutely,” Troy answered before Angelica could deny the boy. Then he hobbled down the porch stairs and sank onto the bottom one, putting him on a level with the six-year-old. “I’m Troy,” he said, and reached out to shake the boy’s hand.
The boy smiled—wow, what a smile—and reached out to grasp Troy’s hand, looking up at his mother for reassurance.
She nodded at him. “You know what to say.”
Frowning with thought, the boy shook his head.
“Pleased to...” Angelica prompted.
The smile broke out again like sunshine. “Oh yeah. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Xavier.” He dropped Troy’s hand and waved an arm upward, grinning. “And this is my grandpa. My great-grandpa.”
“I’ve