Chapter 13
“All finished,” Lola told Mia.
He had strolled along beside her the evening before as she decided the perfect place for a swing. She had chosen an open area under the large canopy of a single tree. A spot he agreed with. It was near enough to the house for viewing and distant enough for conversational privacy.
He turned toward her and became lost in the simple pure excitement that her eyes held. Large, round, and focused on the sturdy A-frame Lola had assembled early this morning. He imagined a little squeal sounding in her brain as she hurried to the swing chairs spread out on the ground.
She gathered the ropes in one hand and slung the rigid hoop over her shoulder and carried it to him. As he hung up the first one, she returned with the second seat. The instant the second swing dangled from the hooks, she tossed the cushions she had picked out into the seats and climbed into one of them.
It appeared a perfect fit. Lola stepped back taking in the look of pride she had in the finished product she had made with her own hands. She pushed against the ground with her toe and leaned back, appearing satisfied with her accomplishment.
He reached out and grabbed her foot, sending her swinging higher. He had no idea her face could become any brighter than it had been, but it did. The delight in her face was breathtaking.
She motioned toward the other swing.
“You need to try both swings?” he asked with a grin.
He chuckled as she rolled her eyes. With a shake of her head, she pointed to him then to the empty seat next to her.
“I only agreed to hang them, not get my ass thrown on the ground trying one out.”
She narrowed her eyes toward him.
He barked a laugh. “I’m sure I’m glad you can’t tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
Her face twisted, but he caught the glint of humor in her eyes.
He eased onto the edge of the seat, keeping his feet firmly on the ground holding him still. He opened his mouth to shoot her another tease.
“Are these the chairs you have been working on?” a silky female voice asked.
Mia nodded excitedly, slowing her swing to a stop.
Lola jerked up his head. How had he not noticed this woman approaching them? He stood, unable to look away. She was as tall as he was and slender. Almost lanky, he thought, but not unattractive. Not at all. Her black hair seemed to curl around her ears naturally, leaving only enough length to touch the collar of her button-up blouse. The leather bag slung over her shoulder looked professional, although her dress was casual.
Mia jumped to her feet and began signing, then twisted toward Lola.
“Ah. You built this for her creations, she said,” the woman translated.
Lola gave a nod and flashed Mia another smile.
“I’m Heather Jenkins, Mia’s speech therapist.”
“Then I shall leave you two to your fun,” Lola told her and turned toward Mia. “I’ll see you later.”
As he walked toward the house, he couldn’t help but listen to the smooth voice behind him as she asked Mia if she wanted to work there or go inside. Her voice faded and silence followed him through the door. He stopped at the window watching the therapist settle into the seat he had just abandoned.
“I saw. She looked like she won the lottery,” Amber commented.
Lola glanced toward Amber sitting at the table with a book in hand. “Tell me about this therapist.”
“Not much to tell.” Amber raised her shoulder, looking over the pages. “She comes in twice a week, and they go off by themselves for an hour or so learning sign language and some sort of throat muscle exercises from what I understand.”
“Every week, huh?” he repeated, staring through the window.
“Why would she need to know sign language?” Amber dropped the book to her lap. “Won’t she be able to talk again after her surgery?”
“Don’t know. I don’t think she knows either,” he answered.
“Hmm,” was Amber’s only response.
Lola remained at the window. He tilted his head studying Mia. She was her normal ball of sunshine, smiling and eager to learn. He watched as she focused on Heather’s motions and intimidated them time and time again. Then without realizing it, his focus had shifted fully to Heather. She appeared to be confident and caring, and her eyes seemed to glow when she laughed along with Mia.
He turned and joined Amber at the table. “What are you studying now?”
“Social studies.”
“How’s that going?”
Amber closed the book and placed it on the table. “Not bad. I’m rereading this and hopefully can schedule my exam soon.”
“You’ve crammed a lot of learning into a few months. You should be ready.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’ve done nothing but study. I look at it this way, though. If I fail, then I can retake it later. Plus, I’ll know more of what to expect and can focus on those things.”
“Good thinking. But you’ll pass it,” he assured her pushing to his feet.
“Want a drink?”
“No thanks.”
He strolled to the fridge grabbing a drink. Turning back, he paused and leaned his butt onto the island countertop where he could see Mia and Heather still outside. Three women so different from each other, yet they all could easily be a distraction. He glanced toward Amber. She could be a time bomb. He didn’t know from day to day which version of her she put forth. And Mia. He swung his head back toward the window. Mia was the same every day. No matter the complications or bumps that arose, she was happy. Quiet, but no doubt thankful for each day. What was Heather like? Easy going? A stickler for schedules and order? He planned to find out just that.
He checked the time and pushed from the countertop and headed toward the driveway. He fumbled around his bike until the front door opened and Heather appeared.
“State of mind is important to the healing process. And that small gesture from you did wonders for Mia,” she told Lola as she passed him walking toward her car.
“I did nothing,” he said stopping her in her tracks.
Heather turned to face him. “It was more than you intended maybe, but it was not nothing.”
“Glad to hear I helped somehow.” He fell into step with her following her the remainder of the way to her car. “You headed out to another patient?”
“Not for another hour.”
“Would you be up to coffee and a little conversation?”
Heather smiled with a soft nod. “I can do that.”
“Great. You can follow me. I know the perfect place.”
Lola closed Heather’s door and jogged to his bike, throwing a leg over his seat and rode out.
***
“Did you get the A-frame built?” Mac asked as Lola ambled into the garage, unzipping his leather jacket.
He nodded and hung his cut-covered jacket on the large hooks near the office door. “It turned out good. Don’t know how long she’ll be able to sit outside. That woman would shiver to death in a northern wind.”
Mac laughed. “That can be an advantage at times.”
“I don’t know about that, but she loved the set up.” He cocked his head toward Mac as he leaned over the engine of a car. “Met her therapist today.”
“And?”
Lola grinned, pulling the card from his pocket. “We had coffee and she agreed to meet again.”
Before Mac could reply, the clicking of Lorelei’s heels across the concrete interrupted them. Mac grinned then stepped around Lola. “Did you get lost looking for your desk?”
“Where’s the key?” demanded Lorelei.
“What key would that be?” Mac inquired, crossing his arms.
“You know what key. You put a lock on the thermostat,” she accused.
“You complained about the temperature being adjusted up and down. So, I fixed it.” He turned back toward the car.
“I was referring to agreeing on a common ground. Not this,” she complained, popping her hands to her hips.
Mac grinned and turned back toward Lorelei. “I tend to like the setting it’s on.”
“It’s cold in there.”
“Works for me,” he told her, his eyes dropping from her face.
Immediately, her arms flew to cross over her chest. “You’re insufferable!”
“So you keep telling me.” He walked back toward Lola and reached under the hood of the old car, helping to remove the breather as if there wasn’t a woman standing nearby glaring at him.
When the tapping of her heels faded back into the office, Lola let out a laugh. “She’s pissed.”
Mac joined his laugh. “Yeah. I’ll make it up to her later.”
Lola only shook his head, and they returned to the task at hand. Shortly after it was completed, Lorelei’s voice sounded over the intercom.
“You have a phone call.”
“Alright,” Mac replied.
“And some orders that need signing.”
“Bring them out here,” Mac ordered as he walked toward the phone mounted to the wall.
“I would, but I’m frozen to my chair. I don’t believe I can get through the door with the chair attached to my behind.”
Mac barked a laugh and answered the phone.
Lola caught the keys Mac tossed to him and walked into the office to be hit by a rush of what felt like arctic air. He singled out the only new key on the ring and proceeded to unlock the clear box mounted to the wall. Setting the temperature, he closed the lid without locking it.
“At least one of you has some sense,” Lorelei commented, tugging a pale blue square of material tight around her shoulders.
“Something I can sign for you?” he asked.
“No. It’s okay. I’m just too cold to work efficiently,” she told him.
“Step outside. It’ll warm up soon.”
Lola held open the door as Lorelei walked back into the garage, stopping in front of Mac. A corner of Lola’s mouth lifted as he watched Mac remove the shawl from her shoulders, tucking it under his arm, most likely daring her to reach for it.
Finally, Mac hung the receiver back on the hook. “What are you griping about now?”
“You turn my office into a freezer and didn’t even come in there to warm me up.” She batted her eyes, mocking a sweet, inviting look.
“I figured that temper of yours had you warmed up,” he shot back, wrapping the material he held around her neck.
She reached for it, adjusting the scarf how she liked, and smiled. “I may be willing to let you make it up to me.”
“Oh, I plan on that woman, get upstairs.” He slapped her ass spinning her toward the stairs at the rear of the garage.
“Hold up,” Lola spoke up. Lorelei stopped and glanced his way as Mac glared at him. “Keep it in your pants a minute, old man. I have a serious question.”
“I’ll teach you about the birds and bees later, son. Handle the shop.”
Lola laughed along with Mac, turning his attention to his father’s girlfriend. That scarf thing.”
“Yeah?” She fingered the soft material hugging her neck.
“You can wear it and wrap up in it? Is it like warm enough for a cool evening?” Lola asked, studying the way it hung effortlessly down her chest.
“Not warm enough for his antics,” she joked. “I love this. It’s versatile and classy. Perfect to always have on hand.” She tilted her head. “You want one?”
He nodded. “I think so. Where do I find one?”
“What color do you want?”
His eyes shot to hers. “I don’t know. Maybe green.”
She smiled and told him, “I’ll pick one up for you. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks,” he told her an instant before Mac maneuvered her toward the stairs again.