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“Guess you’re Charlotte’s date to the Spring Fling,” Addy said, smiling as she sauntered away like a sexy vixen. Okay, so she didn’t saunter, but she still looked sexy. Okay, not even sexy. Addy wasn’t full-blown in her appeal, but rather subtle and there was something sexy about subtleness.
But he’d think about kissing Addy later.
Maybe that evening over whatever Flora served for dinner.
Or the next day.
Or…
Addy hurried back toward him, making a face. “Charlotte just threw up.”
Lucas climbed out and jogged around to the passenger back door of the extended cab pickup truck. Opening the door, he found Charlotte already out of her booster. Rather than giving him a mistrustful look, she held out her arms and allowed him to lift her out and place her on the asphalt of the school’s parking lot.
“Do you wike sno-balls, Uncle Wucas? ’Cause Sister Tewesa said they was gonna have ’em here.”
He looked down at the three-year-old and nodded. “I loved sno balls when I was little. Your daddy and I once had a contest to see who could eat theirs the fastest. Gave us both horrible headaches. But since your tummy was upset, maybe we’ll skip sno balls today.”
“But I want one.”
“We’ll see.” He stood surveying the scene for a moment, wondering how one proceeded at a school fair.
“Come on,” his niece said, tugging the tail of his shirt and pulling him toward the field where the school had set up the Preschool Spring Fling. Something about the brightly colored tents and milling laughing families made him feel a bit lonely… and sad for Charlotte that she had to experience the event with an uncle she didn’t know rather than with her parents.
Ben.
If his brother pulled through, he’d face many obstacles with the loss of his leg. Ben had always taken great pride in being active—running marathons, training for triathlons, and hiking in the Ozarks—or so Lucas had gleaned from his mother. But even navigating a small school fair would be a challenge until Ben adjusted to a prosthetic.
That thought made Lucas’s sadness he felt over his brother more pronounced.
There was a gulf between him and Ben, wide enough to make Lucas doubt if it would ever be bridged. But it still hurt to think about how sick his brother was, about how unsettled he’d feel if Ben died without either of them attempting to extend the olive branch.
If Ben continued to worsen, Lucas might never have a chance to find forgiveness. If Ben recovered, there was no guarantee it would matter. Lucas wasn’t ready to forgive Ben or Courtney. Or maybe he was. He couldn’t sift through his feelings fast enough. Things felt too cluttered in his life at the moment. It was enough to survive until the next day.
“Hey, Charlotte’s uncle,” a voice from his left called.
He turned to find the woman who’d offered to buy him a coffee that first morning he’d attempted carpool and found himself on the receiving end of nun fury. It wasn’t Shannon, the bored housewife—she had red hair—but he couldn’t remember a name for this one. “Yeah?”
“Just saying hello. I’m Tara Lindsay, Sheldon’s mom. Remember?”
He nodded but didn’t want to encourage chitchat with the woman who wore tottering heels and carried a big purse he’d be willing to bet cost more than his truck payment. Yet he didn’t want to be a total ass. He held out a hand. “Lucas, and, of course, I remember. So I’m guessing I’m supposed to, what, let Charlotte play all the games? Never been to a Spring Fling with a three-year-old.”
“I’m gonna be four,” Charlotte piped up.
“I bet you haven’t,” Tara drawled, ignoring Charlotte, her voice flirtatious, her gaze likely illegal in three states. He squelched the inclination to twitch in jeans that suddenly felt too tight under her perusal.
“I wanna get my face painted,” Charlotte said, pointing toward a tent where high school-aged girls swiped paintbrushes against the cheeks of preschoolers. Maybe he should have brought Michael after all. The boy might find someone who made him smile. It could be a miracle at St. George’s.
“The tickets are over there.” Tara pointed a long professionally manicured fingernail toward a red booth. “I’ll walk with you. My ex is taking Sheldon around so I’m waiting for father and son time to wind down. I’m sure Sam will make sure he’s out of here as quickly as possible.”
Lucas didn’t have anything to say to that very personal revelation.
“Maybe seeing me with tall, dark, and cowboy will rub salt in a wound or something,” she continued, snaking a hand through the crook of his arm and steering him toward the ticket booth.
He took Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s get some tickets and then I’ll take you over to the face painting tent, okay?”
Charlotte didn’t pull away, though her blue eyes did dart to Tara tottering beside him. For some reason, he gathered Charlotte didn’t like the woman latching onto them. Maybe his niece was coming around to having him in her life. She’d even let him hold her after she’d gotten sick yesterday afternoon. Seems too many cookies and two glasses of milk was a bit too much for child her age.
“I want Addy,” Charlotte said as they stopped in the short line. “Why wouldn’t she come wif us?”
