like on TV commercials. Day after day, doing the right thing. The responsible thing. It was tough, sometimes draining. Sheâd been told it was rewarding, too, but she hadnât experienced that part yet.
Opening her eyes, she twisted her body to look over her shoulder to the closed door behind her. Usually, by this time in the afternoon she would be hurrying to prepare dinner, but her effort would have been wasted today, since Emma had dozed off on the couch a half hour before. They were only having hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, anyway.
Lindsay dropped her head into the cradle her hands had formed as she rested her elbows on her knees. Shewas a failure as a guardian on so many levels. Emma had only been living with her for a few weeks, and already Lindsay had resorted to feeding her junk just to keep the peace at dinner. And letting Emma nap this late in the afternoon would make it nearly impossible to enforce her 8:30 bedtime.
As she stared out into the street, she could almost see the approval disappearing from her parentsâ eyes. At church the day before, her mother had told her it was a âgood ideaâ when sheâd described her plan for creating a regular schedule for Emma. A schedule she was already blowing.
You should give yourself a break. Lindsay bristled as Joeâs words slipped into her thoughts uninvited. She didnât need him as her cheerleader here, but worse than that, she didnât need to be thinking about him one more time today. She shoved her hands back through her hair.
Wasnât she having a tough enough time balancing work and parenting roles without wasting time wondering why Joe hadnât called in two days? She shouldnât have been thinking about anyone at work, where her concentration needed to be on measuring gestational age and development on the ultrasound screen. She definitely shouldnât have been thinking about Joe.
Heâd certainly managed to remove her from his thoughts, if the past few days were any indication. She hadnât seen or heard from him since Saturday. She shook her head. That couldnât matter to herâ¦even if it did.
Straightening, Lindsay glanced out into the street again, looking for some entertainment. In this unique area of town, where modest older homes with established trees shared space with her newer condo complex, there was always someone out on the street, staying active. She used to be one of them.
As if to prove her point, a pair of in-line skaters raced on the asphalt, their arms pumping furiously with the effort to get the edge. A helmeted cyclist in racing gear passed them on the left. She followed the bikerâs path with her gaze, appreciating his joy for speed, his commitment to the sport.
When he was finally out of sight, she turned her head the opposite way, catching sight of a runner approaching in the distance and pushing a jogging stroller. Runners were always the hardest to watch, their freedom and fluid movements making her wish for things she couldnât have right now, so she turned away.
But curiosity drew her gaze back to the runner, who wore a baseball cap low over his eyes. Because he was closer now, just beyond the first condominium building, she got a better look at him. And his empty stroller. Lindsay rubbed her eyes and looked again, just to make sure her vision wasnât playing tricks on her.
She was still wondering why a tall, broad-shouldered man who didnât have the lean build of a runner, would be running up her street pushing an empty stroller, when he came into view. Her breath caught. A chill she couldnât explain scaled her arms, though it was probably seventy-five degrees outside.
Joe? Maybe red-faced, but that could be him, right? She gritted her teeth, shaking her head. It had been bad enough that sheâd been thinking about him at work, but was she going to start seeing him everywhere now? Then the man sheâd almost convinced herself was only a
Opening her eyes, she twisted her body to look over her shoulder to the closed door behind her. Usually, by this time in the afternoon she would be hurrying to prepare dinner, but her effort would have been wasted today, since Emma had dozed off on the couch a half hour before. They were only having hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, anyway.
Lindsay dropped her head into the cradle her hands had formed as she rested her elbows on her knees. Shewas a failure as a guardian on so many levels. Emma had only been living with her for a few weeks, and already Lindsay had resorted to feeding her junk just to keep the peace at dinner. And letting Emma nap this late in the afternoon would make it nearly impossible to enforce her 8:30 bedtime.
As she stared out into the street, she could almost see the approval disappearing from her parentsâ eyes. At church the day before, her mother had told her it was a âgood ideaâ when sheâd described her plan for creating a regular schedule for Emma. A schedule she was already blowing.
You should give yourself a break. Lindsay bristled as Joeâs words slipped into her thoughts uninvited. She didnât need him as her cheerleader here, but worse than that, she didnât need to be thinking about him one more time today. She shoved her hands back through her hair.
Wasnât she having a tough enough time balancing work and parenting roles without wasting time wondering why Joe hadnât called in two days? She shouldnât have been thinking about anyone at work, where her concentration needed to be on measuring gestational age and development on the ultrasound screen. She definitely shouldnât have been thinking about Joe.
Heâd certainly managed to remove her from his thoughts, if the past few days were any indication. She hadnât seen or heard from him since Saturday. She shook her head. That couldnât matter to herâ¦even if it did.
Straightening, Lindsay glanced out into the street again, looking for some entertainment. In this unique area of town, where modest older homes with established trees shared space with her newer condo complex, there was always someone out on the street, staying active. She used to be one of them.
As if to prove her point, a pair of in-line skaters raced on the asphalt, their arms pumping furiously with the effort to get the edge. A helmeted cyclist in racing gear passed them on the left. She followed the bikerâs path with her gaze, appreciating his joy for speed, his commitment to the sport.
When he was finally out of sight, she turned her head the opposite way, catching sight of a runner approaching in the distance and pushing a jogging stroller. Runners were always the hardest to watch, their freedom and fluid movements making her wish for things she couldnât have right now, so she turned away.
But curiosity drew her gaze back to the runner, who wore a baseball cap low over his eyes. Because he was closer now, just beyond the first condominium building, she got a better look at him. And his empty stroller. Lindsay rubbed her eyes and looked again, just to make sure her vision wasnât playing tricks on her.
She was still wondering why a tall, broad-shouldered man who didnât have the lean build of a runner, would be running up her street pushing an empty stroller, when he came into view. Her breath caught. A chill she couldnât explain scaled her arms, though it was probably seventy-five degrees outside.
Joe? Maybe red-faced, but that could be him, right? She gritted her teeth, shaking her head. It had been bad enough that sheâd been thinking about him at work, but was she going to start seeing him everywhere now? Then the man sheâd almost convinced herself was only a
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