Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,45
taking care of kids. I throw pots, too, but not as much as I’d planned.” She emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a paper towel. “Try stroking her instead of patting her like that, Tess. Preemies don’t like being patted.”
Something Tess knew very well, but she’d been so caught up in her visitor’s narrative that she’d been patting Wren’s little bottom without realizing it. “You have experience with preemies,” she said.
“Twins, not long after I moved to Tempest. I learned fast.” She ducked back inside the kitchen.
Tess moved to the door. “Why have I never seen you at the Broken Chimney?”
Heather tossed the paper towel in the trash. “I’ve been in Kentucky for nearly two months clearing out my mother’s house. She died just shy of her one-hundredth birthday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. She was a terrible human being.” Heather reached out for the baby. “Come here, little angel. Why don’t you take a bath, Tess? Or go for a walk. I’m sure you could use some time to yourself.”
And with no more conversation than that, Tess did what Heather suggested. Handed Wren over to a strange woman, who could have been a demented kidnapper, but wasn’t. Everything about Heather exuded energy, competence, and hippie kindness. Even so, as soon as she was upstairs, she called Ian.
“A woman named Heather Lightfield showed up.”
“She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Is there a reason you didn’t talk to me about getting more help with Wren?”
“I didn’t want to argue with you.”
“Why would I argue?”
“Are you serious? As protective as you are?”
He was right.
“I figured once you met Heather,” he said, “she’d win you over.”
“She’s okay.”
He laughed.
“All right, she’s more than okay, but I can’t afford to pay a babysitter. She probably charges more than I make.”
“Why would you pay her? I’ve taken care of it.”
“But—”
“I told you I’d make this arrangement as easy on you as I could, and that’s what I’m doing.”
He’d told her no such thing.
“Also, Phish was starting to get nasty. And don’t ask me how much I’m paying her because I’ve forgotten. I’m not good with money. Never have been. As long as I can buy paint, I’m happy. Besides, this was about self-preservation. Mine.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say all the confinement was making you— I’ll go with a ‘cranky shrew.’”
“Good choice.”
She heard a short, low-pitched laugh. As she hung up, she realized Ian had found an efficient way to get Tess and Wren out of the house so he could have the place to himself when he got back.
She soaked in the tub, but even before she finished drying her hair, she was anxious to get back to Wren. When she returned downstairs, she found Heather wandering around the room—Wren in her sling—and reciting Goodnight Moon from memory.
She nodded at Tess but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her until she’d completed “Goodnight noises everywhere.” She smiled. “It’s never too early to start them on great literature.” She cradled Wren’s head in her palm. “My house isn’t far from the Broken Chimney. You can drop her off on your way.”
This was happening too fast. She wanted to go back to her job, but how could she leave Wren?
Heather regarded her sympathetically. “Write down her schedule—everything I need to know. Why don’t you go for a walk and think it over?”
Once again, Tess followed Heather’s orders.
The cold, bracing air energized her, but she’d barely walked a mile before her need to check on Wren forced her back inside.
Heather was sitting in a crossed-legged meditation pose on the floor, Wren nestled comfortably in her lap. Heather looked up, then touched the tip of her finger to the tiny place between Wren’s eyebrows. “It’s amazing how open her chakras are. You’re taking wonderful care of her. Her third eye is already clearing. It’s a sign that she’ll be wise.”
Wren cooed in response to Heather’s touch, and Tess felt an irrational sense of pride in knowing her newborn’s third eye was already so well developed. Which officially made her one more crazy, doting mother.
Foster mother, she reminded herself. That’s what she was. A temporary caretaker until Wren found her real family.
* * *
Leaving Wren for the first time was excruciating, something Heather understood, because all morning Tess’s cell pinged with photos: Wren sleeping, Wren eating, Wren pooping. Ian texted her saying he’d be gone longer than he’d expected, but offered no explanation. He probably wanted to spend more time in bed with some alluring figure model.