In a Heartbeat

She moved to the kitchen window and looked out to the backyard.

Hannah was there, digging in the little patch of her garden. She’d come in earlier, eaten an apple, then carefully picked out the seeds and run back out to plant them. Stretched out on the ground next to Hannah, Peaches watched her mistress with interest.

The evening sun was still unusually warm. Although it was only the first of June, it had already become unseasonably hot.

Beyond where Hannah was digging in the garden, Erica could see the huge tree in Caleb McMann’s backyard. Yesterday Caleb had worked to build a platform in the perfect cradle of branches. Today a wall had been erected, much to Hannah’s delight and Erica’s consternation.

For the past two days, the air had been filled with the banging of hammers and the buzz of saws, both from inside the big house and outside where Caleb worked. She still couldn’t believe he was actually building a tree house for Hannah. It just didn’t make any sense.

She finished washing the last of their supper dishes, then stepped outside the back door. “Hey munchkin, how are you doing?”

“Okay,” Hannah replied, waving the child-size hoe in the air. “I’m getting all the weeds away so everything will grow big and strong.”

Erica nodded and eased down on the multicolored chaise longue. The evening warmth instantly produced a pleasant lethargy and she closed her eyes, able to hear the sweet music of Hannah’s voice as she talked to her growing vegetables.

Erica sighed, for the moment at peace with the world. With the approach of sunset, a tiny breeze had kicked up, alleviating the intense heat of the day.

Hannah’s voice became lulling white noise as sleep teased at the edges of Erica’s consciousness. It had been a long day and talking to her brother always unsettled her.

Her relationship with Keith had been strained for so long. Erica sighed and gave in to the healing warmth of the sun. She didn’t want to think about Keith now. She didn’t want to think about anything.

“Hey, neighbor.”

The familiar deep male voice jarred her out of her drowsy state. She kept her eyes firmly closed, tension instantly tightening relaxed muscles. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, he’d go away.

“Mommy, look who came to visit.” With little fingers, Hannah pried open one of Erica’s eyelids. “See, Mr. Man is here.”

Caleb McMann, her own personal version of Mr. Rogers in the neighborhood, stood holding a tray with three tall glasses of what appeared to be pink lemonade.

However, Mr. Rogers would never appear shirtless, nor would he look as good as Caleb did at the moment. Caleb, with his expanse of tanned, muscled chest and a smattering of dark chest hair, banished all sleepiness, all pretense of relaxation.

This man is dangerous, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her head. He was temptation to all the things Erica had put behind her, all the emotions she’d sworn she’d never feel again. He was a man to be avoided at all costs, a man who could make her remember things better left forgotten.

What was he doing here? Why did he seem so intent on being friendly with her? What was he doing popping in and out of her house, fixing sinks, building tree houses, bearing donuts, then lemonade? What did he want from her?

She sat up, deciding it was definitely time to explain to Mr. Rogers in no uncertain terms that she wanted him out of her neighborhood.

Chapter 3

“Mr. McMann,” Erica began as she sat up in her chair. She was acutely conscious of the fact that her denim cutoffs were almost indecently short and her T-shirt was far too tight. She hadn’t exactly been expecting company.

“Please…make it Caleb.” He grinned boyishly as he set the tray of refreshments on the nearby picnic table, then carried one of the glasses back to where she was seated. “It’s so warm this evening that lemonade seemed to be in order.”

Reluctantly Erica took the glass from him.

“I love lemonade,” Hannah said, reaching for the smallest of the glasses left on the tray.

Erica looked at her daughter in surprise. Hannah had never professed to loving lemonade before. It seemed Caleb McMann was a hit with at least one of the Clemmons ladies.

She frowned, watching as Caleb grabbed the last glass and sat down on the picnic bench. Hannah perched beside him and smiled up at him.

Erica had a feeling her daughter didn’t love lemonade as much as she was growing fond of Mr. Caleb McMann. Daddy eyes, that’s what Hannah had said about the man the first day she’d met him.

Daddy eyes, indeed! Erica needed to nip this in the bud somehow. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to get any ideas about Caleb having any special place in their lives. She intended to protect her daughter from any hurt.

“People in this neighborhood don’t usually do much casual socializing,” Erica said, her voice cool and holding a slight note of censure.

Caleb shrugged and leaned over to scratch Peaches behind her ears. “I guess that makes me one of three odd ducks in town.” He grinned at Hannah and winked. “Quack,” he said.

Hannah giggled and Erica sighed, realizing her attempt to make a point had drifted away with the warm evening breeze.

“Where I come from, neighbors are neighborly,” he said. “That’s the way it should be in the world.”

“And where are you from Mr., uh, Caleb?” Erica asked.

“Originally, a little tiny town in Illinois. More recently, Chicago.”

“I can’t imagine Chicago being so very different from St. Louis,” she said dryly.

“True,” he agreed. “But both Chicago and St. Louis are very different from Shady Bluff, Illinois. In that little town folks knew how to be friendly.”

Erica had never heard of Shady Bluff, Illinois. “And what brings you to St. Louis?”

He paused a moment to take a sip of his drink. “Sort of a working vacation.”

The answer was vague and Erica eyed him curiously. “A working vacation?”

“Yeah, you know…you go on vacation but you accomplish a little work at the same time.” He smiled at her, but the smile did nothing to alleviate the whisper of distrust that swept through Erica. His answer hadn’t really been an answer at all.

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.