Before she had a chance to ask him more questions, he turned and smiled at Hannah.
“So, little Miss Muffet who sat on a tuffet. How does your garden grow?”
Hannah giggled once again. “That’s not right. It’s Mary, Mary, quite contrary. And it grows just fine. Wanna see?”
“Sure,” he agreed. He set his drink down and stood as Hannah jumped up and eagerly danced toward her garden. He smiled at Erica. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” she muttered, watching as he walked with long strides behind Hannah.
It irritated her that he looked just as good going as he did coming. His broad, bare back gleamed a honeyed brown and muscles rippled beneath the bronzed skin. A wave of heat swept through her, heat that had nothing to do with the day’s temperature.
Despite her desire to the contrary, curiosity niggled at her. She wondered what exactly he did for a living, why he’d left Chicago for St. Louis. What exactly was “a working vacation”? Sounded like a sinful indulgence to her.
It was obvious from the work going on at his house that money didn’t seem to be a problem for him. During the several days since he’d moved in, she hadn’t seen him leave the house for any extended period of time. So, what kind of work did he do?
The questions fluttered through her mind. What had brought him to St. Louis? And more importantly, what had brought him to the house next door to theirs? He appeared to have lots of money yet no visible means of support. Again an edge of distrust sliced through her. Who was Caleb McMann and why did he seem to be going out of his way to spend time with her and Hannah?
She shoved the question from her mind.
She didn’t care to know about his personal life. Sharing personal information bred familiarity, and familiarity was definitely what Erica intended to avoid at all costs.
She sipped the cool drink and eyed Caleb, who was now crouched beside Hannah as the little girl pointed out the vegetables that had begun to peek out of the earth.
He appeared to be listening intently to whatever Hannah was telling him. The little girl seemed to have his complete, undivided attention.
Okay, Erica mentally conceded. So the man made delicious lemonade, looked sinfully terrific without his shirt, and showed an inordinate amount of patience with small children. That didn’t mean she was interested. Curious, yes. Interested, no.
She tensed as Caleb and Hannah stood, then Caleb walked back to where she sat. “That’s some little garden she’s got growing,” Caleb exclaimed as he once again sat down on the picnic bench.
Erica nodded. “She’s been very good at weeding and watering every evening. She’s always liked working outside, even when she was very small.”
Erica relaxed as memories swept through her. Even when Hannah was at her sickest, the thing she’d minded most wasn’t the shots or the medicines but being cooped up inside. “She’s more than a little bit of a tomboy.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Caleb replied. He focused intently on her. “What about you? Are you a tomboy? In your spare time do you like to work outside and participate in sports, or do you prefer candle-lit dinners and going to the theater?”
“I have very little free time and what little I do have, I spend with my daughter.” Sherry would have called Erica’s tone her ice-maiden voice, and Erica offered him a small smile to temper it.
“That’s commendable,” he said, apparently not put off by her momentary burst of attitude. “But doesn’t it also result in a rather lonely kind of life?”
She felt the blush that warmed her cheeks. “I like being alone. I tried it the other way—the happily-ever-after, soul-mates-forever route—and discovered it wasn’t exactly what the hype promised.” She shut her mouth with an audible click of her teeth, irritated that she’d said more than she’d intended.
“Divorced, huh?”
She nodded. “What about you?”
“Widower.” He said the word softly, and in his silvery gaze Erica saw the dark shadows of loss, like an eclipse momentarily stealing away the light.
“I’ve gardened enough,” Hannah exclaimed as she rejoined them. She sat down next to Caleb and picked up her drink. She drank deeply, then grinned at them both. “I think I got all the weeds. My best friend says I should plant some flowers with the vegetables. Pretty pink and red flowers.”
“Your best friend?” Erica looked at her daughter curiously.
Hannah nodded. “My dream friend.” Hannah took another sip of her lemonade, then continued. “I don’t know her name, but sometimes she comes in my dreams and we have fun and play together.”
A dream friend. Erica smiled at her daughter. “I used to have a dream friend when I was little, only mine was a big, fat, furry teddy bear.”
“And mine was a bald-headed cowboy named Curly,” Caleb said.
For a brief moment Erica felt the unity that suddenly joined the three of them, a fellowship created by the crazy sharing of imaginary friends.
“My friend plays hopscotch and jumps rope with me,” Hannah said.
“Teddy used to have tea parties with me,” Erica returned.
“Cowboy Curly used to let me chew tobacco.”
Both Erica and Hannah made sounds of disgust as Caleb laughed. “Trust me…as I recall, dream chewing tobacco tasted like bubble gum.”
“Speaking of dreams….” Erica looked at Hannah. “I’m dreaming of a little girl in her pajamas and ready for bed.”
Hannah sighed. “I think she’s talking about me,” she said to Caleb.
He laughed again. “I think you’re right.”
Hannah slid off the bench and looked beseechingly at Erica. “Maybe you dreamed about a little girl putting on her pajamas and going to bed later tonight?” she asked hopefully.
Erica shook her head. “Nope. Hurry along now, it’s getting late.”
Hannah sighed once again, then touched the top of Peaches’ head. “Come on, Peaches. We gotta go get ready for bed.”
“And make sure you wash your face and hands and brush your teeth,” Erica called after her. “When you’re finished, come get me and I’ll tuck you in.”
Hannah and Peaches disappeared into the house and for a moment the only sound was the noise of nocturnal insects coming awake and filling the air with their songs.
Dusk painted the western sky in vivid shades of plum and although Erica knew she should get up, go inside and encourage Caleb McMann to go home, she didn’t move.
“Dusk has always been my favorite time of day,” she said. She remembered the days of Hannah’s illness. Each evening as twilight approached, she’d take a moment to say a prayer of thanks for the fact that they’d gotten through another day together.
“It is nice,” Caleb agreed. He took a sip of his lemonade, then looked in the direction of his backyard. “In another week or two we can all watch the sunset from the tree house.”
Erica frowned. “You shouldn’t be building a tree house just because Hannah wanted one.”
He looked at her in mock innocence. “But I’ve always wanted a tree house,” he protested.
She eyed him with a dry smile. “With real windows?”
He nodded soberly, although his eyes