again.
She had a repair kit but she’d never used it before. Should she
try to patch the tire herself and risk getting out on the trail only for the
patch to fall off? Or should she ask for help?
John leaped to mind but she quickly rejected the urge to call
him. Just because she was helping him with Tuti and they saw each other
regularly now, just because he was handy with tools and would assist her at the
drop of a hat, didn’t mean she wanted to rely on him in any way.
Especially not after yesterday. He was getting under her skin,
just what she’d vowed never to let happen again. The attraction was still
there—had never gone away, if she was honest—but that didn’t mean she had to act
on it. She was happy to help his daughter and to have a casual friendship with
John but anything more would be opening a Pandora’s box she’d firmly shut seven
years ago.
The tree-climbing incident had been an eye-opener to the power
struggle she and John were still dealing with. She was positive Tuti would have
come down once she knew she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. To think that
John thought she didn’t care about Tuti, or would put her in danger… It stung,
professionally and personally. It said more about
the issues between her and John than it did of who was right and who was wrong
in that particular incident. She would never do anything to hurt a child,
especially not one she cared about.
And she did care about Tuti despite the history behind her
conception. That sweet girl needed her more than her other students. Plus, Katie
felt a special connection because they’d both lost their mothers at an early
age. But she was also wary of the dangers of letting Tuti get too attached to
her—and vice versa—given that there was no future for her and John, not in the
way they’d once wanted.
But she didn’t have time to think about this now—she had a flat
tire to deal with. She could spend hours figuring out how to fix it herself. Or
she could go to Riley, who knew all about bikes, and she could watch and
learn.
A quick phone call established that her brother was at home and
able to help. Katie wrangled her mountain bike into the back of her car and
headed off across town.
Riley was pruning the apple tree out front when she pulled into
his long curving driveway a few minutes later. Her father, Barry, his gray hair
cut military short, was stacking the fallen branches in a pile to one side.
Riley lowered the loppers and climbed down off the stepladder. Barry dusted his
hands on his work pants.
“Hey, Dad. Riley.” She gave them both a hug then dragged her
bike out of her car. “The front tire won’t stay inflated.”
“This thing is practically an antique.” Riley threw up the
kickstand and squatted to feel the flabby tire. “No wonder the tires are
disintegrating. You’ve had it since—”
“A long time,” her father cut in with a frown at Riley.
“Since I had cancer.” Katie gave her dad an affectionate,
exasperated glance. “Saying the word won’t magically make me sick again. I’m a
survivor.” Just because her mother died from breast cancer when she was ten and
Riley was twelve, her father seemed to regard her as a ticking time bomb,
waiting for the disease to strike again. “What do you think? Can it be patched
or do I need to buy a new inner tube?”
“Let’s have a look. Got a screwdriver?” Riley turned the bike
over and stood it on the handlebars and seat.
“Lot of rust on those fenders,” Barry said. “Where do you keep
your sandpaper, son?”
“In the garage.”
Barry took off for the garage. Katie got out the toolbox her
dad had given her to keep in her car, gave Riley a screwdriver and hunkered down
to watch.
He set about levering the tire off the frame, making sure he
didn’t puncture the inner tube. “Are you cycling with John?”
“I’m going on my own,” Katie said. “Why would you think I’m
going with John?”
“He told me you went to Springvale
She had a repair kit but she’d never used it before. Should she
try to patch the tire herself and risk getting out on the trail only for the
patch to fall off? Or should she ask for help?
John leaped to mind but she quickly rejected the urge to call
him. Just because she was helping him with Tuti and they saw each other
regularly now, just because he was handy with tools and would assist her at the
drop of a hat, didn’t mean she wanted to rely on him in any way.
Especially not after yesterday. He was getting under her skin,
just what she’d vowed never to let happen again. The attraction was still
there—had never gone away, if she was honest—but that didn’t mean she had to act
on it. She was happy to help his daughter and to have a casual friendship with
John but anything more would be opening a Pandora’s box she’d firmly shut seven
years ago.
The tree-climbing incident had been an eye-opener to the power
struggle she and John were still dealing with. She was positive Tuti would have
come down once she knew she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. To think that
John thought she didn’t care about Tuti, or would put her in danger… It stung,
professionally and personally. It said more about
the issues between her and John than it did of who was right and who was wrong
in that particular incident. She would never do anything to hurt a child,
especially not one she cared about.
And she did care about Tuti despite the history behind her
conception. That sweet girl needed her more than her other students. Plus, Katie
felt a special connection because they’d both lost their mothers at an early
age. But she was also wary of the dangers of letting Tuti get too attached to
her—and vice versa—given that there was no future for her and John, not in the
way they’d once wanted.
But she didn’t have time to think about this now—she had a flat
tire to deal with. She could spend hours figuring out how to fix it herself. Or
she could go to Riley, who knew all about bikes, and she could watch and
learn.
A quick phone call established that her brother was at home and
able to help. Katie wrangled her mountain bike into the back of her car and
headed off across town.
Riley was pruning the apple tree out front when she pulled into
his long curving driveway a few minutes later. Her father, Barry, his gray hair
cut military short, was stacking the fallen branches in a pile to one side.
Riley lowered the loppers and climbed down off the stepladder. Barry dusted his
hands on his work pants.
“Hey, Dad. Riley.” She gave them both a hug then dragged her
bike out of her car. “The front tire won’t stay inflated.”
“This thing is practically an antique.” Riley threw up the
kickstand and squatted to feel the flabby tire. “No wonder the tires are
disintegrating. You’ve had it since—”
“A long time,” her father cut in with a frown at Riley.
“Since I had cancer.” Katie gave her dad an affectionate,
exasperated glance. “Saying the word won’t magically make me sick again. I’m a
survivor.” Just because her mother died from breast cancer when she was ten and
Riley was twelve, her father seemed to regard her as a ticking time bomb,
waiting for the disease to strike again. “What do you think? Can it be patched
or do I need to buy a new inner tube?”
“Let’s have a look. Got a screwdriver?” Riley turned the bike
over and stood it on the handlebars and seat.
“Lot of rust on those fenders,” Barry said. “Where do you keep
your sandpaper, son?”
“In the garage.”
Barry took off for the garage. Katie got out the toolbox her
dad had given her to keep in her car, gave Riley a screwdriver and hunkered down
to watch.
He set about levering the tire off the frame, making sure he
didn’t puncture the inner tube. “Are you cycling with John?”
“I’m going on my own,” Katie said. “Why would you think I’m
going with John?”
“He told me you went to Springvale
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