"I know you don't. But guess what?"

  "What?"

  "Your daddy is really smart, and good, and talented too, so people are going to be jealous of him as well. But, he's also super-strong, which means that whatever they say about him, it doesn't hurt his feelings."

  "It doesn't?"

  "No, it doesn't. Not one little bit. He doesn't let anything people say bother him. Because the only people whose opinions really count are yours and Emma’s. If you say something hurtful to your dad, that sure does hurt his feelings. But if anyone else does it, it's like he's wearing armor and the arrows of their words just bounce right off."

  "I want some of that armor," Caitlin said with a huff.

  "You'll get it. But I don't want you to earn it by shutting people out, I want you to ask God for it. He'll give you an armor that will protect your heart without pushing people away."

  "Really?"

  "Yep. He sure will. I know, because I asked him for the same thing back when I was a little girl, and it worked every time. Still does."

  As they began to pray together, Roland stumbled back down the hall and headed for the master suite. He scrubbed tears from the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand. Then, fell onto his bed and buried his face in the mound of pillows.

  How did June get to be so wise? She was so young, and yet she'd already learned something he'd never understood. Was that what he was doing? Pushing her away because he was afraid of being hurt? When really, he should do what she'd said and ask God about it. He rolled onto his back and linked his hands behind his head to stare up at the ceiling.

  Then he prayed, and the words of his prayer mingled with the murmuring from farther down the hall and floated skyward together, like the strands of a rope winding together.

  13

  June woke up and rolled over onto her side. She frowned, then sat up in bed and yawned widely, her arms reaching over her head.

  A nerve in her neck spasmed and she grimaced. She glanced down to see Caitlin pressed up to the other edge of the king-sized bed, one arm draped toward the hardwood timber floor below.

  Somehow, she must have fallen asleep in Caitlin's room. They'd talked together for at least an hour then prayed. After their prayer, Caitlin had burst into tears and needed consoling. And sometime after that, she must have drifted off.

  She stood to her feet, stretched again, and tipped her head to one side, then the other. Her neck had been bent at a strange angle, and pain shot up one side of it. Then she coughed and another spasm of pain exploded, this time in her throat.

  With a sniffle, she pushed the back of her hand to her own forehead. Maybe she had a fever? She did feel cold, even though it was the middle of summer, and the air conditioner hadn't been set too high.

  She padded from the room, just as Caitlin sneezed behind her. With a startled glance over her shoulder, she watched as Caitlin rolled onto her other side with a groan and tucked her legs up beneath her.

  June's own legs trembled, and her head felt light. Just great. Was there anything worse than catching the flu in the middle of a hot summer?

  She stopped a moment to look in on Emma and found her the wrong way around in her own bed. Her eyes drifted open and connected with June's, and she sniffled.

  "My neck hurts," she said.

  June shook her head. "Oh no, I think we all have the flu."

  She stepped gingerly to Emma's bed and reached for her forehead. Her skin felt hot to the touch, but then again if June had a fever, she wouldn't really be able to tell. She hurried away to find the thermometer.

  Roland ate breakfast alone. He flicked through news articles on his iPad while he ate. Then he glanced up at the staircase that led to the second floor. Where were they? By now they'd usually all be down here, eating, laughing, chattering loudly.

  He stopped chewing to listen. Footsteps echoed softly down the hall overhead. Someone was awake.

  By the time he'd finished up and rinsed out his bowl, the footsteps overhead had returned the way they'd come and were silent now. He hurried up the stairs two at a time to investigate.

  He found June in Emma's room. His daughter had a thermometer poking out between pursed lips.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  He strode to Emma's bed and sat beside her on the mattress, looping an arm around her narrow shoulders.

  "She's sick," replied June. Her cheeks flushed pink. Or were they pink already?

  "I'm sorry, honey. I hope you feel better soon." He stroked Emma's forehead, smoothing her hair away from her face.

  June plucked the thermometer from Emma's mouth and studied the reading. "One hundred. Well, it's a fever, but not too bad. I guess we'll just stay inside today and take it easy. You just had that throwing-up bug and now this. Poor thing." She patted Emma's leg then stood to her feet to leave.

  "I'm just going to check on Caitlin. I think she might have it as well."

  Both kids sick? He sighed. June would have her hands full today. He'd managed to get most of his most urgent work done yesterday…perhaps he should stay home a while and help her. Although she probably didn't want him hanging around, getting in her way. And since things between them were still so uncertain and undefined…

  June returned with a frown. "She definitely has a mild fever as well."

  She slumped down onto the bed beside Roland and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. He frowned and reached for her, pressing his own hand to her cheek.

  "You're hot as well. Give me that?" He took the thermometer from her. "Here, put it under your arm."

  She complied with a small huff. Another fever. All three were sick. That was it—he was staying home. He couldn't leave them all alone with only Magda to care for them. The housemaid hadn't arrived yet, she'd come at nine, but still, it wasn't part of her responsibilities to care for sick children or a sick nanny. That was his job.

  He stood and headed for the door.

  "Where are you going?" asked June, her eyes unfocused.

  He hurried back and looped an arm around her shoulders. "First, I'm taking you back to your own bed. Then, I'm calling the office to let them know I'm not coming in today."

  "No, don't do that. We'll be fine. I'll just take some Tylenol, and I can manage…"

  He chuckled. "I'm not leaving you to take care of two sick children on your own when you can barely take care of yourself."

  "But your work…"

  "Will still be there tomorrow." He stopped, and looked down at her, admiring the curve of her cheek, the blue of her eyes and the way her floral dress hugged her trim figure. "Are you wearing the same thing you wore yesterday?"

  She glanced down at her dress. "Uh…yeah, I fell asleep in Caitlin's bed."

  "Oh."

  The conversation he'd overheard the night before came back to him as they continued down the hall to the stair case. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to the art auction last night."

  She shook her head. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

  "Was Caitlin really upset?"

  "She would've been, but she had other things on her mind."

  "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked.

  "Definitely. Just…not right this moment, if that's okay."

  She stumbled, and he caught her. She pressed up against his chest, then rested her head there. "Mmmm…you feel nice and warm. I'm so cold."

  He chuckled. "Come on, I'll get you something for that. Let's get you in bed."

  He helped her down the stairs, out through the back door and across the short walk to the pool house. Then inside, pushed open the door to her bedroom and stepped through, half-dragging her with him. How long had it been since he'd been inside her room? Probably years. He didn't like to impose on her privacy. She'd decorated. Not much, but a few knickknacks here and there. Her king-sized bed had a no-fuss blue and green, beach-themed cover, and a large natural fiber rug formed a circle beneath it. On her nightstand stood a photograph of her and her family.

  As he lowered her onto the bed, her arms came up and around his neck, pulling him down with her. He laughed. "You have to let go now, come on."

  She peered into his eyes, her own suddenly serious. "We need to talk."

  "I know," he replied. "When you're feeling better. I promise we'll definitely talk."

  "You've been avoiding me."

  He straightened, setting his hands on his hips. Then sighed. "I'm sorry. Work has been busy…but yes, I suppose I have been avoiding you. And you've been avoiding me."

  She nodded and offered him a half-smile. "Sorry."

  Something on her bed moved. He frowned. "What was that?"

  A pillow fell to one side, and Frank's head emerged from beneath it.

  Roland's eyes widened in surprise and he took a step backward. "What the…?"

  June picked up Frank and cradled him in her arms, stroking his fur. "Sorry, he just loves to cuddle."

  "He sleeps in here?"

  She nodded sheepishly. "Um…yeah. He has been since we got back from Destin. I just couldn't resist those eyes."

  He shook his head. Something to aim for. He'd have to practice his doggy eyes.

  "I don't…just…ugh." He spun on his heel and strode from the room. The last he'd heard, the dog was sleeping on the back porch, which he hadn't been too keen about. And now it was not only inside but sleeping in June's bed. That was something he'd have to deal with later. Right now, he had three sick girls to take care of, and nowhere else he'd rather be.

  June squinted through the glare that emanated from her bedroom window. When had the blinds been opened? She blinked, then sat up and immediately clutched her spinning head.

  The medicine she'd taken seemed to be working since she wasn't shivering with the cold any longer. Still, her nose had since blocked up, and her eyes felt as though something was pressing on them from behind.

  She stood slowly, hands outstretched to balance herself, then smiled in victory and headed for the door. In the main house, she found Roland in the kitchen. He was stirring something on the stove and had a pink apron tied around his waist. Magda stood close by, her hands on her hips.

  "Please, Mister Roland, let me make the soup for the little ones."

  He shook his head. "No, that's fine Magda. I've got this. You have plenty to do, and I want to make sure I get it just right. It's the recipe their mother used to make when Caitlin was younger."

  Magda shook her head and tutted as she shuffled away. Soon, there was the sound of a vacuum in a distant room.

  Roland glanced up at June, then back to the pot of soup. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep for two hours."

  She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. "I think I feel a little better. It's probably just the Tylenol though."

  "Yeah, the girls' fevers are down. They've been napping on the couches in the media room. We're about to watch a movie if you want to join us."

  She nodded slowly. "That sounds perfect."

  "You go on in, and I'll bring food and drinks. I've got to leave the soup to simmer for a few hours, and we can have it for lunch."

  His phone buzzed on the counter, spinning around in a tight circle. He looked at the screen, then ignored it.

  "Thanks for doing this," June said.

  He smiled. "Happy to."

  "I mean, staying home from work. I'm sure there are a ton of things you have to do. So…"

  "Nothing more important than looking after my girls."

  She nodded. He was a very diligent father. Even if sometimes his actions didn't reflect it, she knew he loved his daughters more than anything in the world. He was a busy man, with a lot of responsibility. Still, she wished he would brush off work more often.

  "That includes you, as well…in case you were wondering." His cheeks burned red as he met her gaze. "I just mean…there's nothing more important to me than the three of you."

  She ducked her head. "That's good to know."

  As she scurried toward the media room, her heart pounded against her ribcage. Just when she thought she was beginning to understand the way that things had to be between the two of them, he had to go and say something like that. And it wasn't just what he said, but the way he said it. As though he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her hard on the lips. Her skin tingled and, as she pushed open the media room door, she welcomed the darkness of the room; it would hide the flush of her cheeks.

  She found the girls curled up on the long sofa in the center of the room, and she squeezed between the two of them, looping her arms around each small frame.

  "Where have you been?" asked Caitlin, dragging her eyes away from the screen for a moment to look June in the eye.

  "I was sleeping in my room. How are you feeling?"

  Caitlin shook her head and squirmed closer until she was resting against June's side. Emma acted as though she barely noticed June's arrival, though that wasn't unusual when she was absorbed in a movie.

  Roland joined them a few minutes later, and stood nearby, a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a jug of sweet tea in the other. He studied the tangle of limbs the three of them made and smiled. He set the popcorn and tea on the table in front of them and left. When he returned, he was carrying four glasses and a bowl of sliced fruit. He placed those beside the popcorn and poured ice-cold tea into the glasses.

  Then he found a place off to one side, glass in hand.

  "Sorry, did I take your spot?" asked June in a whisper as she reached for a glass of her own.

  He shook his head. "It's fine. I'm okay over here."

  "Daddy, come here," called Emma, patting the sofa beside her.

  He handed Caitlin a glass of tea, then carried one around to where Emma sat. She gulped hers down in three big swallows, then set the empty glass on the table and snuggled into Roland's lap, her legs still wrapped around June.

  "Come closer, Daddy," she complained.

  He scooted closer until he was pressed up against June's side. Her heart hammered at his touch and she sipped her tea slowly, working hard not to look in his direction. Did he know what it did to her now when he touched her? Probably not, since they'd known each other for years and his touch had never set her nerve endings on fire before the way it did now.

  "Sorry," he whispered, shifting in place.

  She met his gaze, her face burning. "It's fine." When she couldn't look away, his eyes narrowed.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Fine."

  She swallowed and reached for a handful of popcorn. Maybe if she focused on eating, she'd forget that Roland was pressed up against her, forget that her skin was tingling with anticipation of his hands cupping her face and his lips pressing to hers the way he'd done at the fundraiser.

  Would it ever happen again?

  Should it?

  She knew it shouldn't. He was her boss, her friend—if she kept reminding herself, perhaps she'd finally be able to let go of the longing that had consumed her ever since that kiss.

  They watched a movie about kids spying on their parents and uncovering a mystery that rocked the entire neighborhood, and all the while her thoughts were on Roland. Frank nestled against her feet. He seemed to have adopted her as much as she had him. The girls loved the little dog, though she noticed Roland glaring at the creature every time he moved or sniffed at the popcorn bowl.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she extricated herself from the tumble of limbs and hurried from the room to answer it. She didn't look at the screen, so when she heard Casey's voice on the line her heart fell. She'd been dodging his calls for weeks now. Why hadn't she checked to see who was calling?

  "June, please don't hang up," he begged.

  Her eyes rolled. "Okay, fine. I won't hang up. What do you want to talk about?"

  "I want to apologize."

  "Really?" She sat on the window seat and stared out at the backyard. Dark clouds skidded across the sky, and several big, fat raindrops plopped into the swimming pool, sending ripples across its glassy surface.

  "Yes, I'm really sorry about what happened. I'd had a bit too much to drink, and I shouldn't have…kissed you or said the things I said. Any of it really. I'm sorry." He exhaled slowly.

  The anger inside her dissipated with a fizzle and she sighed. "Thank you, Casey. I accept your apology."

  "I really am sorry."

  "I believe you."

  "You know that wasn't like me."

  "I know. I was surprised…"

  "I told Phyllis what happened."

  She frowned. "I thought you two broke up."

  "We had a fight right before I came over to your place. But the next day I called her, and we talked everything through. She's willing to give things another try, and I think I should do that. I owe it to her, she's been real sweet."

  June arched an eyebrow. It was hard to imagine the stick insect being anything resembling sweet. Although, perhaps she was being too hard on the woman. She should try to give her some grace.

  She exhaled slowly. "I'm glad you were able to work things out."

  "I'm just sorry we couldn't…you know, you and I? If things had turned out differently, who knows, maybe we might've had a chance."

  She held herself back from reminding him that it had been his choice to leave, his choice to move on and find love with a stick insect.

  Anger stirred in her gut, reminding her that it was time to forgive. She prayed a quick prayer of forgiveness and pushed a smile onto her face.

  "I guess we'll never know, Casey."

  "There is something I wanted to talk to you about if you've got the time."

  She pressed fingertips to her eyes and grimaced. "Sure. What is it?"

  "Phyllis says that I'm selfish with my love. We fight a lot about it. She says I don't put her first. And I guess I was wondering if you agree with her. Was I like that with you?"

  She settled farther back into the pillows that cushioned the window seat and pursed her lips. "I guess you could say that."

  "Really? I mean, what should I do? I don't want to lose her." His voice was thin, desperate.

  "I guess you could try asking her where she'd like to eat or bring her flowers once in a while…" She couldn't believe she was offering her ex advice on how to date the woman he’d left her for. "And I always hated it the way you'd ask me what I wanted to do, then pick apart my suggestion or ignore it entirely. We'd inevitably end up doing whatever you wanted, which usually meant sitting at a sports bar to eat while you watched the game over my shoulder." She chuckled to herself, remembering how many evenings she'd dined with his attention focused on a screen behind her. She might have missed spending time with him, but she didn't miss that.

 

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