The Wrong Man

And yet?

He thought about Ashley and those last few days when he’d sat by her bedside holding her hand. And the important things they’d had just enough time to say to each other.

He knew one heckuva lot more about love now. And loss. Especially loss.

TRENT? Here in Whitefish? Nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of emotions, everything from shock, grief and anger to joy, hope and confusion. And of course regret. Somehow Libby pulled herself together enough to settle little Kylie. She paired her with Lacey, who seemed pleased to be singled out to help and relieved that Kylie, not Bart, was now assigned to help repair the damaged submarine. Kylie, however, sat mute, turning the glue stick over and over in her hand.

She blushed furiously when Bart pulled on her hair and said, “Hey, new girl, where’d you come from?”

She didn’t look at him, but merely whispered, “Billings.”

“You prob’ly don’t even know how to ski,” the boy scoffed.

“Kylie will learn,” Libby said, deftly steering him to his seat.

Then it was time to put away the craft projects. Amid the clatter of drawers and bins opening and closing, Libby had a moment to study Kylie. She had Trent’s square face and generous mouth, but the hair must be her mother’s. Trent’s was curly. A hitch caught in her chest. She remembered the springy feel of those curls that refused to be tamed. When the bell for recess rang, Libby felt relieved. She didn’t want to think too much about what Kylie looked like. Whom she resembled. Whose child she could have been…

Libby threw on her coat. Stop it! But the unfairness burned in her throat like bitter medicine.

On the playground, the girls headed for the swings while the boys clustered around a soccer ball, dividing up into teams. Kylie, however, stood just outside the door, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her pink-flowered parka. Every so often, her eyes darted around the playground before settling back on her boots. Weezer had told Libby that Trent’s wife had died within the last year. Her heart went out to Kylie Baker. Libby understood what it was like to lose a mother, to have the idyllic world of childhood shattered, replaced by emptiness and uncertainty.

Libby approached Kylie. “Did Lacey invite you to play with the girls?”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to.”

The thrust of the child’s chin was hauntingly familiar. “Why not?”

Kylie merely shrugged.

Libby put her arm around the child. “It’s hard being new, isn’t it?”

The answer was a sniffle.

Pulling her closer, Libby said, “Moving involves lots of changes. Everything seems unfamiliar, I’ll bet. We all want to help you, though. Will you let us?”

When Kylie turned her face into Libby’s coat, Libby could feel her shoulders shaking with sobs she didn’t want her classmates to observe. Digging out a tissue, Libby knelt with her back to the playground, shielding the girl from view. “Here, sweetie.” She handed her the tissue.

“That’s what—” sniff, sniff “—my daddy calls me sometimes.”

“Daddys are nice that way.”

“I guess. But I don’t have a mommy.”

“You miss her a lot, I imagine.”

Eyes streaming, she nodded vigorously.

Libby helped dry her tears, then stood. When Kylie shyly slipped her hand into Libby’s, a satisfying warmth traveled through her. This little girl was so desperate for love. But she was Trent’s daughter. Libby mustn’t get too involved.

“Can I tell you something?” Kylie said, adoration in every feature.

“Certainly.”

The little girl gripped Libby’s hand more tightly. “I think you’re beautiful, Miss Cameron.”

“Thank you, Kylie.” Libby blinked furiously, blaming the cold wind when she knew darn well why she was really in danger of blubbering.

Throughout recess, Kylie remained by her side. Libby drew her out about the move and learned that Trent and his daughter were living at Weezer’s, and that Kylie loved dogs and Barbie dolls. Libby told her about Mona, inviting her to come see the cat someday, then reassured her that she would learn to ski in no time. But it was the girl’s answer to her final question that lanced the emotional scar Libby had thought was forever sealed. “Why did you move to Whitefish, Kylie?”

The wistfulness of the whispered reply explained everything. “So my daddy could be happy.”

Of course. Wasn’t that just like the Trent she’d been married to? His happiness, his comfort. That was all that mattered.

CHAPTER THREE

BY THE LAST PERIOD, Kylie seemed slightly more relaxed. She still avoided contact with most of the other children, and even when they found something uproariously funny, she remained glum, detached.

Libby dreaded the end of the day when she’d have to usher the children to the buses and carpools. It would be impossible to avoid Trent, so she’d better get used to the idea of seeing him. Well, she could do that. After all, she had her own life, which included a job she loved, a budding relationship with Doug and a host of friends. The only thing lacking was children. She loved each and every one of her second-graders, but someday, before it was too late, she wanted her own child with a longing that was almost visceral. Maybe it would happen. Doug was perfect father material.

She lined up the children, then led them to the circle driveway in front of the school. After directing the bus riders to the appropriate vehicles, she stood with the remaining children as cars, trucks and SUVs pulled into the pick-up area. And then, there he was, his forehead creased with concern. Libby took Kylie by the hand and helped her into the back seat of his truck. “Did you have a good day?” Trent asked uncertainly.

Kylie shrugged. “Miss Cameron has a cat named Mona.”

Trent looked puzzled by the abrupt change of subject. “She does?”

“She said I could meet her someday. Can I, Daddy? Soon?”

When Trent looked helplessly at Libby, she inwardly berated herself for ever having made the suggestion. Yet much as she wanted to retract her ill-considered invitation, she couldn’t ignore the happily expectant expression on Kylie’s face. “Perhaps you could bring Kylie by the house sometime.”

“How about tonight?” Trent asked, his eyes silently beseeching her. “Kylie could use a friend named Mona.”

“Trent, I…”

“How do you know Miss Cameron, Daddy?”

“Um…”

Determined to avoid discussion of that topic, Libby jumped in. “Tonight would be fine.”

“What if we bring a big pizza and come around six?”

How had this gotten out of hand so fast? Libby’s stomach buzzed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, Lib.”

After one glance at Kylie’s dancing eyes, Libby reluctantly gave Trent her address, then stepped back, closing the door gently.

Damn. How had he worked his way with her already? Using Kylie, that’s how. Poor kid. Innocently stuck in the middle of a situation that could only go from awkward to hostile. One pizza. One cat meeting. That was it!