Page 29 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
“This is like a private world up here,” Kate says. “It is so nice not to have to worry about Mr. Fluffy falling off the roof or getting run over by a car.”
“That would be one ambitious car to run over something up here,” I say. “Em and I planned it— a place where kids and pets could run and play where we wouldn’t have to worry about them running in front of cars or getting kidnapped. You might say that it is a tiny world, with most of the rough edges filed off it.”
“But not all of them,” Kate says, looking at me with those sharp hazel eyes narrowed.
“No,” I agree, “not all of them. But very few where they can hurt Cece, or even Gidget or Mr. Fluffy. The main reason Gidget has a run is because she chews and digs.”
Kate grins at me. “How ungratefully puppy-like of her.”
I smile, wry humor twisting my lips at her accurately aimed lance of wit. “True. Still, we like our couches, flower beds, and phone books intact.”
“Oops!” Cece says and dashes ahead with Gidget. I sigh. Istill haven’t asked her about the phone book. By this time, it is probably best just to let it go.
“She loves that puppy,” Kate says. “It would be too bad if Gidget ate something that disagreed with her. She has a nice run, and she doesn’t have to stay in it all the time. I’m just teasing you.”
“Teasing me?” I widen my eyes at her in pretended disbelief. “How shall I ever overcome the shame. I shall be scarred for life.”
I find that I enjoy Kate’s sense of humor. Even though she had lectured me severely on the proper care of crystal ware when I mention I couldn’t put the wine glasses in the dishwasher. Or when she firmly took the casserole dish in which she’d cooked the meatloaf back out, scraped, then rinsed it before running a load of dishes.
Manuela had always taken care of all the kitchen duties. The fates had truly smiled on me by persuading Kate to be part of my household. But it wouldn’t do to let her know that.
“Oh, you!” Kate says, then runs after Cece and Gidget, who have nearly gone out of sight around the curve of the building. I admire the way she runs, with long-limbed economy of motion, like a dancer or a marathon racer. It makes me long to take up the chase, and perhaps catch her, and . . .
My leg twinges, and I give up any such foolish notions. I make my way more cautiously after them. The artificial hip is far better than most of the alternatives, and for the first three years it had been fine. But lately, it was not behaving quite right.
Mr. Fluffy weaves around my ankles, nearly tripping me up. “Dammit cat,” I say, without rancor, “Are you trying to get us both hurt?”
Mr. Fluffy jumps up on a low wall around a bed ofsucculents, plants his fluffy bottom, and fussily washes an already pristine paw.
I decide to follow his example and flop down on a bench facing the bed. “You’ve got it good,” I say. “Your only job is to get petted and to purr.”
Mr. Fluffy gives me an inscrutable green-eyed look and begins washing the other paw.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a tough job being a kid’s rag doll, and then soothing her to sleep at nights.”
My soliloquy is interrupted by the three runners, looping through the gardens from the other direction, having made it all the way around the house.
Kate comes over and sits down on the other end of the bench. Her face is flushed from the exercise, and she is breathing deeply, which does interesting things to her modest bosom. She is wearing a white cotton shirt that is open at the throat, and each strong breath reveals the soft swell of her breast and a hint of the lace inset on her bra. Her special scent, a mixture of lemon, coconut, and young woman, washes over me. Who knew that wholesome could be so enticing?
Cece and Gidget chase each other around the bed of succulents, causing Mr. Fluffy to arch his back, hiss, and retreat among the plants.
I came to a sudden decision. “Why don’t you bring your laptop and books to my office today?” I know that she has applied to graduate school and is already trying to read ahead for her classes since it doesn’t look as if a teaching practicum would be available in the near future.
“Are you sure?” Kate asks. “What if you need to make phone calls?”
“I did those yesterday, and they’ve slowed down a lot. I have mail that I need to answer today and some reports toread. If you share my office, I can help you keep up with Cece.”
“Thank you. She’s been increasingly reluctant to nap. Where does she get all that energy?”
“From having a clear conscience and going to bed early,” I retort. “She didn’t stay up late playing Scrabble, or get up early this morning to exercise or make breakfast.”
Cece then demonstrates that kids can find rough edges just about anywhere. She trips over Gidget, who had run in front of her, and tumbles onto the rough stone paving.
She sits up almost immediately, wailing at the top of her lungs. She has a scrape on her chin and has skinned her hands. Before I can struggle up from where I’m sitting, Kate has dashed to her side and is quickly checking her over.
Gidget crawls to them on her belly, wiggling and whimpering in sympathy or shame. She licks Cece’s ankle.
“Is she all right?” I ask.
