A Doctor for Keeps

“Glad to. That is, if Steven doesn’t get his nose bent out of shape.”

“I think he’s forgotten me for that group of boys over there.”

Gerda pointed at Kent. “I remember this one when he was Steven’s age. I could tell he had a crush on Ester, and I warned her to be extra nice to him when she babysat. Do you remember that?”

“I do. Truth was, Ester was my first big heartbreak.”

Kent went quiet as Gerda shut down before Desi’s eyes. Pain replaced the tender glances from earlier, and after a goodbye nod, Gerda make a quick departure for the bakery booth.

Desi and Kent exchanged puzzled glances. How should she process what had just happened? Kent had accidentally brought up the taboo topic. No wonder it seemed so hard to ask about her mother, when her grandmother had never gotten over her running away.

Kent flattened his lips into a straight line. “I put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

“It’s so many years. Who would think it could still be so painful?”

“Losing a kid. I don’t know how I’d survive,” he said.

Desi couldn’t begin to imagine the hurt her mother had caused when she’d set out on her own, barely eighteen and pregnant. Seemed as though there were always two sides to every story. Times like these, Desi wished with all of her heart her mother was alive and she could ask her the tough questions.

Kent glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s after noon. The kid’s distracted. Would you like a taste of schnapps in some cocoa? I know just the place.”

“Sounds good.” Anything to replace the heartsick feeling for her mother and grandmother that had suddenly come over her. How different would her life have been if her mother and grandparents could have worked things out?

Off they went, down the street toward a booth decorated in swaths the colors of the Swedish flag. On the way, without asking, Kent took her hand with a gentle, comforting touch, setting off a tingly domino effect all the way to her toes.

Chapter Three (#ulink_73acb37c-8390-5cc5-9bf9-fb7e56de0d19)

Kent let rip a piercing whistle as he set the three cocoas on the outdoor table. After Desi nearly jumped from her chair, she saw Steven making a beeline for them. The kid must know his dad’s call.

“That’s yours.” Kent handed Desi a thick mug filled with rich, hot chocolate with a strong peppermint aroma.

“Thanks.” Seated beside a small round table, she blew over the top of her mug and inhaled more of the delicious scents. “You always call your kid like a dog?”

Kent winked at her. “Works every time.”

The quick, subtle wink sent a comet up her spine, and she sat infinitesimally straighter.

Steven arrived, took one quick sip and put the non-spiked cocoa down. “Thanks, Dad! Gotta go.”

“Wai...wai...wait a minute.” Desi grabbed the boy’s sleeve and pulled him back. “I thought I was your guest today. Stick around and finish your cocoa. Talk to us a little bit before you run off with your friends again, or I’ll get my feelings hurt.”

The boy sat on the edge of the chair, too antsy to sit still. “We’re playing tag.” He slurped another drink. “I’m it.”

“Sounds fun, but they get to see you every day at school.” Once she had Steven’s attention, she took a long drink of the warm, spiked cocoa and let it go down slow.

“Have you ever been in the parade?” she asked.

Steven tried to be polite, feet fidgeting, eyes darting to the side from time to time. “Not yet. But next year the fourth-grade class gets to make a float and wear costumes.”

Desi glanced toward Kent. “Were you in the parade when you were in fourth grade?”

“You bet. One of the biggest days of my grammar school life.” Kent’s usual guarded style gave way to a smile, making him look younger, even a little carefree.

But Steven changed. His previous exuberance closed down and he stared at his drink. “Will I wear Swedish or Norwegian colors, Dad?”

“Both, if that’s what you want to do.”

Kent had grown more solemn, too, and Desi’s imagination started working overtime. Swedish? Norwegian? Her eyes darted between father and son. Did it have something to do with the missing mother and wife? And what was the deal with her? But like so many other times, she left her questions unspoken.

Steven finished half of his drink and plopped the cup on the table. “Now can I go play?”

“What about me?” Desi teased, reaching to tickle his sweatshirt-covered chest, trying to lighten the mood again.

“I’ll bring you some bubblegum after me and my friends go to the candy booth.”

“Gee, thanks. I feel so special.” She glanced at Kent. “I hope he didn’t learn his dating techniques from you.”

Steven’s eyes lit up. “I know! I’ll bring you some fruit-flavored SweeTarts.”

Never in her life would she ask for SweeTarts, or for a kid to spend his money on her, but since it seemed like such a big deal to the boy, she cheered. “Yay!”

Kent got a funny look on his face and shook his head as Steven sped off.

“You are going to pay him back, right?” she asked. “I’d hate for your kid to spend all of his hard-earned allowance on me.”

“Wouldn’t that make it our date?”

She locked eyes with Kent, refusing to get lost in those arctic blues. “How about I pay you and make it Dutch?” She looked suspiciously around, wondering if it was okay to say Dutch in Heartlandia.

Tiny crinkles formed at the edges of his eyes, and Desi realized Kent was smiling again. “The other night he told me you smell like his favorite candy. That’s why he’s buying the SweeTarts for you.”

She laughed. “SweeTarts?” She sniffed her wrists. “I guess my perfume does smell a little like candy.”

She offered her wrist for Kent to try. He leaned forward and sniffed, his gaze walking from her wrist up her arm and connecting with her eyes. Zing. Heat jetted from her chest to her cheeks in record time. Feeling awkwardly aroused, she took her arm back and pretended to watch Steven run off.

“How funny he noticed,” she muttered.

“He’s a smart kid. A great kid.”

“Agreed.” She sipped more of the delicious enhanced cocoa and let the newly emerged sunshine further warm her tingling face.

Kent’s fingers tapped her knuckles, setting off a second wave of shivers. “He came from a mixed marriage, you know.”

She cocked her head in Kent’s direction. The kid was a towhead.

He had a playful glint in his eyes. “His mother’s Norwegian.”

“Ah. Gee, it must have been hard with two extremely different cultures living under the same roof.” She’d play along to see if he’d open up about the wife who was no longer in the picture.