Her Kind of Hero Page 10

  Matt sighed. His mother’s relatively good news had been overshadowed by this tiff with Rosie. Funnily enough, the eleven-year difference between them had been easier to manage when they were younger. His father’s death before Rosie’s birth had defined Matt’s adolescence. He’d always been more than a big brother and she’d always accepted his role as mentor and surrogate father. Until her teens and her MS diagnosis.

  Then she’d begun to chafe at any and all restrictions, even those meant to protect her. Now she was in her twenties and instead of mellowing out, she’d been withdrawing into a tougher, more silent version of that rebellious teen. Matt couldn’t figure it out. Didn’t she realize he simply wanted what was best for her?

  * * *

  HE WAS LATE, Dana thought, smiling. But she’d take the high road and not say anything. She’d been waiting outside KidsFirst for ten minutes, having left her place as soon as she got Matt’s text. Of course, she could text him to say she was there and ask where he was, but that would make her appear impatient. She’d offered to pick him up at his mother’s, but he’d had an errand and said he’d text when he was about to leave for the drop-in.

  Dana had thought of the Rodriguez household long into the night. She had some memories of her early childhood when she had been part of a family, but they’d been overshadowed by all the years of just Brent and Dana. Her father had tried in the beginning to carry on with some of the family traditions set by her mother, but the demands of his new partnership at Sothern and Davis had been a stronger pull. Because her mother’s side had blamed him for her suicide, Dana’s loyalty to her father had stopped her from ever contacting them.

  The sudden tap on the passenger-side window made her jump. She unlocked the door and Matt climbed in. “Why didn’t you come inside?” he asked, doing up his seat belt.

  “I didn’t think you’d be long anyway so...” She didn’t want to tell him she’d been afraid to leave her car unattended.

  “This specific neighborhood is pretty safe,” Matt said. “But there are places where a woman driving an expensive car might not want to visit. I wouldn’t have asked you to pick me up here if I thought you’d be at risk.”

  Dana pulled away from the curb, fighting back a response that could sabotage the day. He must have felt her annoyance because after a few seconds of nervous finger drumming on his armrest, he said, “I didn’t intend that message to be delivered in such a—”

  “Condescending tone?”

  He groaned. “Yeah. People who don’t live here get all their information about the South Side from the media and most of that is bad. I’m not glossing over the bad, believe me, but bad is also in other places that the public doesn’t always read about. There are a lot of good community things happening here and too often they’re jeopardized by stereotyping or a biased press.”

  “I get that,” Dana said.

  “Sorry again for the rant. If it’s any consolation, this is the second time this morning that I’ve irritated someone. So the problem is me, not you.”

  “Oh?”

  “My sister, at the medical center.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. We were there with my mother. She had an appointment.”

  Dana looked his way again.

  “My mom has breast cancer, and the appointment was to go over a treatment plan. Rosie and I went with her for support, but of course, it was Ma who bolstered us up, as usual.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dana murmured, unsure what else to say.

  “The prognosis is good. It hasn’t gone into her lymph nodes and she doesn’t need chemo.”

  “Surgery?”

  “Yeah, to remove the lump, followed by radiation.”

  “That must be a relief for all of you.”

  “It is.” He stared out the windshield, relaxing into his seat.

  “Did you have a sleepless night? Because of the appointment, I mean.”

  “I did, but not because of the appointment,” he confessed.

  Dana guessed from the way he was looking at her that his restless night had been similar to hers. Perhaps for similar reasons? The forehead kiss?

  “And how about you?” he asked. “You sleep okay?”

  The steering wheel jerked. His mind reading skills were unnerving. She cleared her throat. “Umm, sure.”

  “Good. Because I thought you might have been a bit stressed about filling in for Maria. I don’t expect you to tackle her whole workload.”

  Okay, Dana, the kiss isn’t at the top of his “things to think about” list today. In fact, considering what he’d revealed about his family’s current situation, the forehead kiss had most likely been completely erased from his mind.

  After a moment he suddenly asked, “Coffee? My treat. And did you bring your bathing suit?”

  When he’d texted her to arrange the morning pickup time, he’d suggested she bring her bathing suit. “Yes, but...”

  “But?”

  “The water might still be too cold for me. I’m a wimp when it comes to cold-water swimming.”

  “Too many warm-water swimming pools in your life?” he teased.

  She turned to him, grinning. “Exactly. That one camp experience of mine? The prebreakfast swim was a nightmare. I don’t think I’ve had a dip in a large body of water since.”

  “Not even the Caribbean?”

  “That doesn’t count ’cause the water’s always warm.”

  “Ah! Okay, make a right at this light and the coffee shop is just a few feet from the corner. What’ll it be?”

  “Skim milk latte?”

  “Done. Pastry?”

  “I’ve already eaten.”

  “C’mon. They get up at daybreak to make their own.”

  “How can I say no?”

  “I’ll get a selection.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Sandro might come out to the camp later. Don’t worry. There won’t be leftovers.”

  A minute later she was parking out front of Wheels Coffee with the image of a racing bike perched above the lintel. “Cute. Good coffee?” she asked.

  “Excellent. They roast their own beans. It’s become a neighborhood institution since the couple who own it opened up.” Matt unclasped his seat belt and got out. “Be right back.”

  And he was, carrying two coffees and a cardboard box. Inside, she found scones, muffins and croissants. They took time to sip some of the steaming coffee and bite into warm pastries, the car filled with the fragrance of baking, quiet chewing and the occasional “mmm” from Matt.

  “Time to go?” he asked, watching her daintily lick her fingertips before wiping them on a napkin.

  She smiled. “We’d better or I might just stay here until the box is empty.”

  Matt craned around to stow the box on the back seat, took another sip of his coffee and relaxed against the leather upholstery.

  Half an hour later, the welcome-to-Willow-Springs sign came into view and Dana slowed down.

  “Did you find out anything about your car?”

  “Sandro called a guy he knows in town who towed it to a garage after we left the camp.”

  “I suppose you’ll need a ride home again then?”

  His grin was sheepish. “I’ll be nice the rest of the day. Promise.”

  Dana laughed.

  * * *

  MARIA HAD PRIORITIZED a list of tasks and correspondence requiring attention and emailed all of it to Matt the night before. He gave Dana Maria’s password to log on to her work email and forwarded her the information he’d received.

  “Are you okay with this for now?” he asked after she’d logged into the office computer. “I thought I’d get back to our council presentation. Then if you like I can help you sort through some of this.”

  Dana began scrolling through the material Matt had forwa
rded. “Once I figure out her system, I should be all right. You go ahead and do whatever you have to do. I know you’re just a text away.” Dana raised her head and smiled.

  “Even closer,” he said, pointing behind him. “That wall is all that’s between us.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she quipped.

  He dropped his gaze first. “Okay, I’ll let you get to it, then.”

  As she watched him leave, Dana thought she probably had misjudged him. The worry over his family likely accounted for that calm yet authoritative manner wavering now and then.

  By the time he returned she’d reorganized Maria’s list and had a vague idea of how the woman worked—more impulsively than Dana, it seemed, starting several tasks at the same time and using marginal notes as reminders for next steps.

  “How’s it going?” Matt asked, breezing into the office.

  “Okay. I’ve kind of reprioritized Maria’s tasks here. There are some follow-up emails and basic information gathering that should be done right away.” How to put it discreetly, without appearing to judge his office manager? “She might have been distracted from finishing certain inquiries.”

  Matt frowned. “Well, she only works part-time and she has a young family. I guess some distraction is inevitable.”

  “I guess,” she said. “And you mentioned a presentation to the town council here. What’s that about?”

  “Last year we had a problem, but not with the council. Remember when we had our hike around the lake last weekend, and we detoured up into the woods, around that campground?”

  “The Happy something?”

  “The Happy-Go-Lucky. It’s privately owned but the beachfront is public property, part of the preserve.”

  “Then why couldn’t we take the kids along the shore?”

  “Legally we could have but there was trouble last summer with the campground management.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Some kids from Camp Hope got into a thing with some kids staying at the campground.”

  “A thing?”

  “There was some name-calling. Stone throwing.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Followed by graffiti on some of the RVs.”

  “Who did what?”

  “Kids in both places.” He hesitated before adding, “It’s not clear which side instigated the trouble. There were the usual back-and-forth accusations that you’d expect from kids. Lots of finger-pointing.”

  “I can’t imagine any of the kids who were here last weekend getting involved in stuff like that.”

  “Last weekend’s kids were ten-year-olds. The kids who were here last summer when that happened were twelve. Preteens. It’s a tricky age. They have to prove things.”

  “What do you mean, prove things?”

  He got up from the chair, pacing, brushing a hand through his hair. Looking like someone who wished he hadn’t begun the conversation in the first place. But Dana was curious.

  “Prove they’re tough. That they can handle things. That they’re not kids anymore.”

  “But they are kids.”

  He wheeled around to face her. “You’re absolutely right! But they don’t feel like kids when they’re forced through circumstance to take on adult roles, say, in their families. Or when they see other kids the same age with complete families. With no decisions to make other than what they’d like for their next meal.”

  Dana didn’t know what kids he was referring to but growing up in her world, there’d been enough unhappiness and bullying to make her realize certain behaviors had more to do with character than economic background.

  “Did you ever find the vandal?”

  He shook his head. “We had our suspicions but nothing we could prove.”

  “And?”

  “That campground has people from all over the county. Taxpayers. Voters. People who know people. The owners took their complaints—vociferously I might add—to Willow Springs town council and demanded we be evicted.”

  “But you weren’t, obviously.”

  “No, but we were given a stern warning to keep the kids away from the campground and we’ve done that. Now our lease renewal has come under review. Last year we were given a verbal agreement that it would be renewed. I’m hoping we can also get some funding from the town council, as well as an extended lease.”

  Now she could understand the need for a presentation. That, on top of his family worries. No wonder he could be moody.

  “And the kid who you suspected of vandalizing the RVs?”

  Matt turned around to look at her. “He’s in a juvenile facility now. There were other incidences later, in the city.”

  Dana was struck by the utter sadness in his face, as if the weight of that boy’s destiny and many others rested on his shoulders. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound trite.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE REST OF the day rolled out exactly as planned. Matt finished the introduction and first section of his PowerPoint presentation to the town council. In spite of the city funding cuts to KidsFirst Place, he and Sandro had already allocated sufficient money from the previous year’s budget to Camp Hope. Matt was equally confident that the new fund-raising campaign in the fall would make up the difference for the rest of the year. Everything could work out, as long as Willow Springs renewed their lease.

  Sandro had texted to say he’d arrive late afternoon, which meant Matt could get a ride home with him if Dana needed to return to the city earlier. Though he looked forward to a repeat of the easy atmosphere from this morning’s commute. Spending time with Dana was unexpectedly soothing and despite the worm of doubt at the back of his mind—It won’t last—Matt was content for now to enjoy the ride. Figuratively and literally.

  Matt decided he had enough time for a lunch-break picnic, maybe followed by a swim. They’d stopped briefly in Willow Springs on the way to the camp to buy sandwiches from a deli, and Matt had put them in the camp refrigerator along with cold drinks. He set his laptop to Sleep, got up, stretched and headed for Maria’s office.

  Dana was bent over a pad of paper, making notes. He noticed the way she licked her bottom lip as she was writing and jiggled the foot of one leg crossed over the other, so totally absorbed in what she was doing that seconds passed before she glanced up, startled.

  “Hey,” he said. “Sorry if I alarmed you. Are you ready for lunch? I thought we could picnic down at the lake. Have a swim after. Whatever you feel like.”

  “I suppose.”

  “We can skip the swim part.”

  “I’m not worried about swimming.” She set the pen down and flipped over the notepad.

  Something was on her mind, Matt figured. “Okay, why don’t you use the staff washroom down the hall to change while I get our lunch? I’ll wait for you outside.”

  “Sure.”

  While he rounded up the food and scrounged around a supply closet for a blanket, Matt wondered if he’d imagined the easiness between them that morning. She didn’t strike him as a moody person, but he’d noticed that she occasionally withdrew and was lost in thought. A character trait he shared, though there had been a time when he was quick to vent his frustrations. Not anymore.

  He found her standing in the center of the parking area, surveying the expanse of grass intermingled with weeds and wildflowers. She spun around as his feet crunched across the gravel and her smile caused any doubts about her mood to vanish.

  “All set?”

  She nodded, holding up the small daypack she’d brought with her. “I’ve got my suit on but my towel’s in here.”

  “Towel? Oh no!”

  “We can share.”

  He liked the sound of that. “All right then. I’m super hungry, in spite of what we ate earlier.”

  They walked side by side across the lawn to the crest of t
he hill leading down to the lake and stood for a moment in silent admiration of the sparkling light on the unruffled surface.

  “It’s beautiful,” Dana said.

  “For sure, though I’m more a fan of rugged beauty. You know, jagged cliffs and soaring peaks.”

  “Hmm, but for the kids who come here, this kind of pastoral landscape might not be as scary,” she commented.

  This woman constantly surprises me. Matt wanted to know more about her.

  “Let’s go!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her in a run down the hill.

  She laughed all the way until they reached the edge of the lake when she cried, “Stop! Stop!” When he did, she sank onto the sandy gravel and laughed harder. Matt wanted to lift her up then and draw her close, let some of that abandon flow into him, too.

  “Lunch first? Or a swim?”

  She pursed her lips in mock consideration. “Maybe a dip, now that I’ve warmed up.” She stood up and pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a stylish bathing suit that made Matt painfully aware of his own old-style swim trunks.

  But her gaze skimmed across his torso, lingering on the tattoos and the puckered skin of the bullet scar inches below the join of shoulder and chest. The urge to get under the water, away from that frank inspection and the questions in her eyes, compelled him to dash ahead, churning the water behind him until he reached the right depth for a nosedive. When he surfaced, she was still standing at the water’s edge.

  “Come on! It’s not cold.”

  “I think I see you shivering,” she hollered back.

  If I am, he was thinking, it’s not because of the water. “Dare you.”

  “That stopped working for me long ago.”

  “I’ll warm you up if you make it this far.” Her hesitation prompted him to add, “I promise.”

  She shouted, “That works,” and ran toward him, diving under and coming up inches away. Her teeth were chattering as Matt drew her close, making good on his promise. He held her against him until she stopped shivering, then gently eased her back far enough to be able to lower his face to hers.