The Romance Novel Cure (19 page)

Monday mornings. Every morning of trying to get out of the house with a baby, get to his preschool, and then get to work on time was an adventure of epic proportions. Why there wasn’t a video game about this, Daniel had no idea. And Monday mornings? The worst. Somehow, no matter how early they woke up, Daniel was always rushing out to the car, then forgetting absolutely essential items, rushing back into the house to retrieve these things, and then watching in horror as the clock seemed to leap ahead in fifteen minute increments.

At Elijah’s preschool, Little Learners, he saw Greta, one of the teachers, in the hallway.

“Hey there Elijah, hi Daniel. Oh, and thanks again so much for helping with painting the mural last weekend!”

“Yeah, no problem. It was a good day.” Daniel smiled, nodded, and walked on. Then he stopped. Nah, he wouldn’t ask who the woman was who had painted beside him. That was random and creepy and he was going to be late, anyway. He continued walking, with Elijah in his arms, toward the classroom.

“You and Alma made quite a nice team, I thought. Your section of the mural came out great. I’m going to post some photographs on the school website later today.”

“Alma?” He turned back.

“Mm hm.” Greta focused on the bulletin board where she was posting some notices. “She works at Graphite, same place my husband, Ben, works.”

“Oh?” He nodded, wanting to ask more questions, but not knowing what to say. He started to turn back down the hallway again.

“Did you get your notification yet?” Greta focused on the bulletin board, her tone nonchalant.

“Notification?”

“Mm hm. You won a graphic design session. At Graphite.”

“What? Really? I didn’t enter any raffle or anything…” Daniel stared at Greta while Elijah tried to arch backwards so that he would be held upside down, his new favorite thing. Daniel held him upside down carefully.

“Ah!” Elijah made happy sounds.

“Oh, yes,” she said breezily, seeming very distracted by posting the notice completely straight. “It was ah, automatic. An automatic entry!”

“Wow, great. I never won anything before.” Elijah protested when he lifted him back upright, arching back and scrunching up his face angrily. Daniel couldn’t get over how much of a person Elijah was. Only alive for months and having such strong opinions.
Upside down, now
! He hadn’t known how strong-willed a baby could be.

“I’ll make sure you get the… the certificate,” said Greta vaguely.

“Thanks! Cool,” he said, as he walked to Elijah’s classroom. A chance to see Alma again. What a weird kind of raffle and a strange sort of prize. He had no idea what he’d use it for, but he wanted it. He flashed on a memory of her looking up at him, the things she had said. Her eyes. Her soft voice.
Focus
, he told himself. They hadn’t even met, really. Just that little, awkward exchange. That little, hot, moment. For him, anyway.  That swipe of paint against his hot skin under the sun, and then how she had rubbed it with that bandana. She most likely had a boyfriend.
Focus
.

Here came the worst part of his day. Elijah’s teacher, Maria, sat on the floor with two babies, one who was on her tummy, chewing on a rattle, the other who was sitting up, chewing on a little fabric book.

“Elijah, good morning,” Maria beamed holding out her arms. The other two babies looked up at him solemnly. Elijah buried his head against Daniel’s chest.

“Hey, buddy, time for school with your best friends.” He heard the false cheer in his voice and he cringed inwardly. He was told repeatedly by Maria and even Greta, who worked with the older children, that Elijah only cried for a few moments when Daniel left. One time, he waited in the parking lot, then looked into the window of the baby classroom. He hoped nobody could see him, he knew it looked all kinds of weird. Keeping his back against the wall, he had turned for a quick look into the classroom, and had seen Elijah beaming up at Maria, who was dancing with him, stepping side to side. Daniel could see traces of tears on his cheeks, but he was smiling as though there was no other place he would rather be. So he knew Elijah didn’t spend a lot of time crying for him, but still. Leaving his kid was the worst. Elijah clung to him and started to cry, anticipating parting from his father. Daniel kissed him on the cheek and took a deep breath. He looked Maria in the eye. She nodded back, resolutely. She stood up and made a V with two fingers, pointing to her eyes and to Daniel’s.

“On my go,” she said seriously, a smile at the corner of her mouth. “One. Two. Three. Go!”

“Bye little man see you later,” said Daniel, putting the crying and grasping Elijah into her arms. Then, he turned to go. He had been coached. Fast and then out the door. He could do this. He swallowed and clenched his jaw and did it. He left, his baby’s cries ringing in his ears.

Mondays. They sucked so, so much.

* * *

“I’m powerless over the crush. I need help.” These were the words that Alma chanted silently over and over as she parked her car and entered the bright yellow Victorian where she worked.

“Hey, Alma!”

And there he was. Looking up from his desk, a warm smile lighting up his big brown eyes.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” He sat back and folded his arms.

She put her bag down on her desk and coached herself through the act of breathing, and the art of acting naturally.
It was going to be okay
, she told herself. But suddenly, the idea of one day at a time seemed impossible. One second at a time, that was more like it. “It was good. My aunt is visiting from Mexico. She came on Sunday, so we all got together. How about you? And Greta?” There. She had done it. One interaction almost completed, and she hadn’t fallen apart. And extra points for mentioning his wife.

“Tia?” He smiled again. Oh, how his smile lit up not just his face but the entire room for Alma. “She’s back? That’s great. Is she liking living there?”

Trust Ben to remember the details about her family that she had shared. She nodded. “She really does. She’s happy. And healthy. She lives by the ocean and she’s doing work she loves. She is just here to visit family and friends. She is also going to go to Abiquiu to Ghost Ranch for a retreat.”

“That’s good, but too bad,” he said wryly, knowing that Alma and her mother had been hoping she would move back to New Mexico.

She smiled back, and looked down quickly, feeling that now familiar sensation of trying to rein in her affection and attraction towards him. Sitting down, she began getting organized for a project that needed her attention first thing.

Mondays. Ugh. The worst, the worst, the absolute worst day of the week.

Opening up her file, her attention wandered. In her imagination, Ben stood up and walked over to her. He took her hand, pulling her up against him roughly. “
I can’t stop thinking about you,
” he said, the tenderness in his voice completely undoing her. “
Greta and I got divorced over the weekend. It’s you I want
.”

Wait, no.

No.

She angled herself so that she could look out the window. She took a deep breath in and let it out. Keeping her head turned slightly so that she could not see Ben, she walked quickly into the small break room and shut the door behind her. She took a cup from the shelf and stared into it, trying to gain some semblance of control over her response. All of her careful strategies, her new approaches, she couldn’t even remember them. She heard sounds behind her and she closed her eyes. Scott and Laura leaned against the counter on either side of her.

“How bad is it?” Scott whispered.

“Bad.” Alma didn’t look at either of them.

“Oh my gosh, you cannot quit, I mean it,” said Scott, sounding panic stricken.

“Scott! Please don’t rush to make this into a catastrophe!” Laura’s voice was stern. “She just needs time.”

“She just needs a boyfriend.” Scott’s voice was insistent.

Alma opened her eyes and turned, leaning back against the counter. “Guys, I’m right here.”

“He could be right, though,” mused Laura. “Even just a fling. Anyone possible? Someone new, just to kind of, I don’t know, create a kind of that was then, this is now thing?”

Unbidden, a memory flooded Alma’s mind. A raspy, friendly lion voice, a lick of red paint on a strong arm. Blue eyes, warm, amused, focused on her.

“You’re thinking of someone!” Scott sounded excited.

“No, it’s not even…”

“Yeah, but, you had a look in your eyes, just for one split second,” said Laura thoughtfully.

“Didn’t she? I know!” Scott leaned closer. “Is he single? Who is he?”

“The last thing I need is to use someone, just to get over someone,” Alma said miserably. “That would be wrong. And anyway, I don’t even know this guy. It was just someone I accidentally painted, over the weekend, at the preschool.”

“Accidentally painted?” Laura and Scott said this at the same time, then laughed.

“Sh!” Alma looked out the small windows alongside the door of the break room. No sign of Ben. “Yes. I was painting, and I stepped back and suddenly there was this guy standing next to me, I hadn’t seen him. I accidentally got paint on him. On his arm.”

“Hot,” whispered Scott, his eyebrows lowering.

“Shut up!” Alma found herself laughing, just a little, despite herself.

“How can we find this man?” said Laura, thoughtfully.

“Oh, yeah, super easily,” scoffed Alma. “Hi, I’m looking for one of the volunteers? He had tattoo sleeves, blue eyes, and a voice like a friendly lion? Sure. That would not be awkward at all.”

Laura and Scott looked at each other, their faces slowly breaking into smiles.

“A… friendly lion?” Scott spoke first, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, it was raspy. Not like a sore throat, like, that’s just his voice.” Alma closed her eyes in embarrassment.

“Do it!” Laura nudged her. “Do his voice.”

“Yeah, I want to hear what a friendly lion sounds like.” Scott put his mouth against his hand, his eyes brightly watching her.

“No! You guys! That’s it, I’m going back to work. At my desk. To work, at my place of working!” She turned around and walked swiftly to her desk, sat down, and buried herself in her tasks. She was working with a local business that had a website that looked like it was from 1997. Loud music blared, the graphics were straight out of clip art, and there was a lot of clutter. Perfect. It would take all her talents and tenacity. Alma worked on creating sleek, bright images and clear information.

* * *

“Here you go, the winning prize.” Greta handed Daniel an envelope. “Congratulations!”

Elijah leaned forward to grab it. “Da!”

“Oh, cool. Okay! Thanks!” Daniel shifted Elijah, placing the envelope in his diaper bag, on the way to the parking lot to head home. Elijah kicked and arched back, screaming in anger. “Bud, that envelope is for daddy, hang on, I’ll get you Mr. Bunny.” Daniel shot Greta a look of “What are you gonna do, right?”

Greta nodded back understandingly, holding the door open for them.

Daniel had to dance around with Elijah before he could attempt to put him in the car seat. When Elijah got angry, he would hold his body completely rigid, his face beet red, making it impossible to strap him into his seat. Daniel slid the diaper bag off his shoulder, trying to keep it out of sight. Stealthily, he pushed it behind him, onto the passenger seat. Gosh, being a dad was like being a ninja sometimes. Actually, a lot of the times. Relieved that Elijah hadn’t seen the bag with the envelope, he reached into the backseat, grabbing a blue rabbit toy. “Here’s Mr. Bun, waiting for you, Elijah.” He held the bunny out to his son, and Elijah paused in his yelling, just for one hiccupping breath. “Don’t you want to go for a ride with me?” Daniel made his voice as squeaky as he could. “Yay, go for a ride!”

“Da!” Elijah held out his arms for the rabbit, all thoughts and anger about the envelope forgotten. Within moments, Daniel had him strapped into the car seat, and they were on the way home.

Man. He would have never guessed babies could be so… so irrational. Getting an idea in their heads, wanting something random, and then freaking out about it. He shook his head, grinning. His son was smart. Elijah could remember stuff now. It seemed like just yesterday that out of sight was out of mind. If Daniel hid something, Elijah would forget all about it. Not anymore. Every day brought more changes.

Daniel remembered the envelope after Elijah was sound asleep in his crib. Looking around wearily at all the cleaning up he had to do, he saw the diaper bag by the front door where he had dropped it after arriving home. Then it had been a whirlwind of dinner, bath, storybooks, and bed. Grabbing the bag, he pulled the envelope out and opened it. Huh.
You have won a free graphic design session at Graphite.
That was it, except for a phone number. The font was some sort of fancy script, but there was nothing official looking about it. Daniel shrugged. Random. What on earth would he use a graphic design session for? Remembering the cool swish of paint against his arm, he felt his stomach muscles contract. Those brown eyes looking up at him, that brief smile. Grabbing his phone, without thinking any more, he called the number.

* * *

The next morning, Scott listened to the voicemail a second time, frowning. Saving it, he moved on to the next message.

“It’s Greta. Just reminding you that we’re babysitting this Friday. Uh, there’s one more thing. I, uh, donated a prize where the winner gets a free graphic design session consultation at Graphite. So, uh, if the person calls? His name is Daniel Rourke. He was one of the volunteers helping to paint the mural at the preschool. Just bill me, okay? I know, I know this is weird. But Scott, just do it. If he calls. Have him meet with
Alma
and just… just send the bill to me. With
Alma
, okay? Sorry. Thanks.”

Scott frowned and listened to Greta’s hurried message again. Then he listened to the previous message again and his jaw slowly dropped. Laura arrived.

“Laura! Laura!” Scott waved his arms as though she were across a football field.

She stopped and stared at him. “Uh, yeah?”

“The friendly lion! The scratchy voiced guy! Come here!” He kept waving.

“What are you talking about?” She walked over and took the phone from where it was lodged between his shoulder and his ear. “Speak!”

“Okay.” He took a deep, slow breath and let it out. “Quick. Before Ben or Alma arrives. Greta made up this raffle thing so she could set up a consult with this guy and Alma. And then the guy called. His voice is really raspy! It must be the guy Alma painted by accident!”

“Hold on.” Laura put her things down, picked up her travel mug of coffee, took a sip, and then faced him again. “Alma’s scratchy lion is coming here, that’s what you’re saying? Basically?”

“Yes! Scratchy
voiced
though. Not just… not
scratchy
.”

They stared at each other and then began smiling. Just then, Alma arrived. She stopped and stared at the two of them.

“Why are you looking like that? Why are you looking at me?” She set her things down on her desk and looked at them with concern.

“Oh, just have a message for you, hon.” Scott tried to speak casually but he had an air of suppressed excitement. “There was a sort of private raffle set up for the volunteers who helped paint the mural.”

“Did I win something?” Alma clasped her hands together, her eyes beginning to sparkle.

“Ah, well, no, not exactly,” said Scott carefully.

Laura nudged him with her elbow. “Just tell her!”

“What? What?” Alma looked from one to the other.

“Someone won a consult with you,” he said quickly. “You can listen to his message, and contact him.”

“I never saw anything about a raffle,” said Alma, reaching for the phone.

Scott pressed a key and held it to her ear. He and Laura watched her face avidly. Alma frowned, then blinked rapidly. She handed the phone back to Scott. Laura and he waited expectantly.

“Well? Well?” Scott couldn’t wait any longer.

“That’s… it’s … it sounds like the guy I was telling you about. The guy I painted.” Alma spoke slowly, not quite sure. His voice was distinctive, but they had had such a brief interaction.

“Can I hear it?” Laura reached for the phone.

Scott handed it to her, pressing keys. “Okay, here, listen.”

Laura listened, then handed the phone back. “His voice is totally scratchy! He must be the friendly lion!”

Alma covered her face with her hand. “Why did I ever say that! Who set this up?”

“Let’s just say… a private benefactor. Like in
The Little Princess
.” Scott looked shifty eyed.

“Oh, now you start with boundaries? Now?” Laura glared at him.

He widened his eyes slightly and tilted his head. Laura nodded imperceptibly.

“Should I call now? I should just do it, get it over with, right?” Alma swallowed.

Scott tore off a piece of message paper, jotting down the number and name after listening to the message one more time. “Gosh, you’d think I’d have it memorized by now.”

Alma slowly took the piece of paper from Scott, looking down at the name and number. Daniel. His name was Daniel. Could it be Mr. Tattoo Sleeves?

“
Hey, this is Daniel, sorry I missed your call. I’ll call you right back, though
.”

Alma sat up straight after hearing the outgoing message. “
Hello, this is Alma Rivera from Graphite. Congratulations on winning the graphic design session. Please call me at your convenience, and I look forward to working with you
.” She left her contact information, and ended the call, breathing out shakily. She tried to push everything out of her mind and just focus on work. Her client with the out of date website had complained that there was no bouncing, gyrating, animated animals in Alma’s fresh take on it. Back to the drawing board. Every time her phone rang, she jumped. Daniel did not call. Maybe he never would. Some people never claimed prizes, she thought, and maybe not everyone needed a consultation with a graphic designer.

“What on earth is that sound?” Scott appeared from around the corner, staring at Alma.

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s that website. I can’t believe this client. I’m trying to think of some way to incorporate some kind of similar melody someplace on the site, but there doesn’t seem to be any way.” She leaned her head on her hand, sighing.

“What is that… that animated creature?” Laura came to stand on the other side of her, peering at Alma’s computer screen.

Alma burst out laughing. “I don’t even know! Some kind of… of… mink?”

“A meerkat? A stoat?” Scott sounded mystified, squinting at the computer screen.

“And what kind of dance is that?” Laura started laughing.

Alma stood up and pushed her chair in. “It’s the crazy out of date website from hell weasel dance!” She waited until the tune cycled around again, and then along with the little animated animal, leaned to the right, then the left, forward shimmy, back shimmy, and then repeat.

“Again!” Scott ordered.

Eventually all three of them had it down pat, synchronized, and they began adding their own flare. Scott said he would create an audio file with the music and use Garage Band to make it into an extended dance mix version of the website from hell weasel dance. For the rest of the day, as soon as they’d get back to work, one of them would hum the theme song and it would set them off all over again.

The day passed, Ben having come into the office late in the day after some appointments and meetings with clients. Finally Alma was at home, in her pajamas, on her couch with her laptop.

Going to be Okay. Getting over a crush takes time,
she wrote
. Even though I have the best intentions, I backslide. The habit of daydreaming about Mr. Off -Limits is hard to break. The addictive pattern of imagining him in my life as my boyfriend, with all the accompanying guilt, feels nearly impossible to let go of. The friends who know about it suggest I focus my energies on finding someone to date or even have a relationship with. How do you make room in your heart when it feels so full of feelings for someone else? Step number three. I’ve just got to believe that somehow, some way… everything will work out, just the way it’s supposed to be. Just right.

* * *

Daniel listened to Alma’s message again. He was sitting on his back steps, Elijah having fallen asleep in his car seat on the way home. He had learned that if he brought him into the house when this happened, Elijah would wake and be extremely cranky. If the weather was nice enough, keeping him outside somehow made him stay asleep. So, Daniel had carried the seat to the back of the house, setting it down carefully and sitting next to it. He pulled off his boots and socks and looked at the golden and brown earth and the mesa in the distance.

Alma. That’s who Greta had said had been painting next to him, the beautiful woman who had painted his arm. For that brief moment. Her voice, yes, it sounded familiar. There was something soft about her voice. He didn’t even know what he meant, he thought, shaking his head at himself. How crazy was it that hearing her voice, remembering that little moment, over so fast, of connection… he felt his stomach muscles tighten. He held his phone, looking at it. His life. It seemed so all over the place. His job, his rental house, child care, all of it depending upon his paycheck, week to week. How could he even let his imagination wander, thinking about a woman?
How can I not
, he said it himself.
I’m not dead. I’ll call. I just want to see her again
. That’s all. Elijah took up every bit of him: time, energy, money. Love. He wouldn’t have it any other way. But, still. Still.