She set the plates on the table and turned away to open a drawer. Grabbing two forks, she looked at him, her eyes shrouded with pain.
She thrust the utensils sat him, then turned and gripped the edge of the sink. “Even after all this time, the stairs...well, they’re a visual reminder of the fall and what I lost that night. I guess I kind of freaked out. Sorry. Anyway, let’s eat before this pizza gets cold.”
She flashed him another quick smile, but this one did little to extinguish the torment in her eyes. She reached into the box to lift out a slice of pizza. Wrapping the melted cheese strings around her finger, she nodded toward the living room. “Let’s eat in there. Grab us a couple of Cokes, will you?”
Leaning against the sink, he watched her leave and ground his teeth together. He wanted to kick himself for pushing her into going to the house when she wasn’t ready.
Way to go, dude.
He grabbed their drinks, then closed the refrigerator door with his hip. Snatching his plate, he headed for the living room.
Red set her plate on the coffee table and pushed the pitcher out of the way to make room for his before sitting on the couch.
Once Ian settled on the cushion next to her, he reached for her hand. “Let’s pray before I start eating like a heathen.”
They bowed their heads while Ian blessed the food.
She echoed his “amen” and gave his hand a light squeeze, sending a shock of heat up his arm.
He pulled his fingers out of her grasp and reached for his pizza. “So, have you forgiven me yet?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Ian. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just...overwhelmed, I guess.” She rested her head against the back of the couch, her hair fanning against a multicolored afghan.
He nudged her shoulder with his. “Still, if it’s too much, we can find someone else to paint. You know what the rooms look like. Choosing colors and all that stuff with Mom won’t be too bad, will it? Then volunteers can handle the rest.”
“No, I don’t want you to do that.” She shrugged, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “The Lord and me...we’ll get it figured out.”
“Maybe this is His way of saying it’s time to move on...to something new.”
“We’ll see. Did I see you sneak in a Cuppa Josie’s bag?”
“If I say yes, do you promise to keep me in the loop about how you’re dealing with the house?”
“Depends on what’s in the bag.”
“Josie’s chocolate macadamia nut brownies.”
Agnes closed her eyes and groaned. “Guess I’ll have to stick with one piece of pizza. I can’t afford to buy new jeans.”
“Believe me, Red. There’s nothing wrong with your jeans.” He threw his crust on his plate and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.
“Ian, I’m in to help with the house. Just let me work at my own pace. I promise to have the job done by your mama’s deadline.”
“You bet. With your talents and my brawn...” He paused to flex his muscles. “We can whip that house into shape in time for Zoe to come home.”
“When are you going to find time to remodel a house in a few short months? Your job keeps you going all over the county. And when you’re not working, you’re harassing me or hauling your nephew to practice.”
“Nice to know you worry about me.” He winked at her.
He liked knowing she cared.
She bumped him with her shoulder. “Well, someone has to.”
“I’ve wanted to fix houses since we took that mission trip over spring break in high school—you remember, when we helped that family fix their house after the hurricane? If I can help others, then I’ll make the time to do it.”
“You talked about my dreams, but when are you going to start living yours?”
“Being a claims adjuster is my job. Pursuing my passion of restoring houses feels a little out of reach. Opening Agape House and bringing Zoe home take priority. My dreams can wait once my family is restored.”
“You’re a good man, Ian, but what about starting your own family?”
“We talked about this, Red.” He scoffed and shook his head. “My life is crazy. I don’t have time right now. I didn’t spend enough time with Emily, remember?”
Dating women who weren’t Red didn’t appeal to him. He needed to focus on convincing her he was the right man for her.
“You need some fun in your life.”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to have to wait.” He stood and reached for his empty plate. “Sorry to eat and run, but I have to pick up Griffin from his buddy’s house.”
Red took his plate and set it on top of hers. “How’s that cute little nephew of yours doing?”
“He’d hate hearing you calling him cute or little. Being eight is a big deal, you know. Counting down the days to when he turns nine, which is around the time Zoe should be home.”
“He sure misses his mama.”
“We all do. If I had taken her call that night, then Zoe would be raising her kid instead of Mom and Dad.”
“You said we can’t focus on the ‘if onlys’ in life. Zoe chose to drink and drive, resulting in the loss of someone’s life. It’s tragic, but that’s not your burden to carry.” Red squeezed his shoulder.
Her gentle touch sparked his skin through his shirt. He reached for her hand and brushed a soft kiss across her fingers. “Says the queen burden carrier.”
She pulled her hands away and fisted them under her arms. “Has your dad come around?”
Ian crossed to the door and gripped the doorknob. “Nope, still as stubborn as ever. Thank God he doesn’t take out his anger at my sister on Griffin. He dotes on the kid.”
“Maybe Agape House is what y’all need.”
“I hope so, Red. At least for Griff’s sake. I don’t know how much more he can take. My sister’s made plenty of poor choices. Her kid doesn’t need to suffer because of them.”
“The rest of her life will be shaped by those choices. You need to stop dwelling on the false guilt you carry and focus on supporting Zoe’s fresh start and consider your own future.”
Didn’t she realize he couldn’t consider his future without her in it?
Chapter Three
When Mama decided she was done celebrating birthdays because they made her feel old, Agnes figured she’d better make her last party a doozy, even if Mama grumbled about turning sixty.
Aqua, yellow and lime-green balloons tied to the cedar rails rimming Mama’s back deck danced in the humid air. Streamers fluttered like kite tails. At least the rain held off, and the cloud cover kept the sun from baking the guests.
Agnes jammed the knife down the center of a buttercream-yellow rose, slid the piece of birthday cake onto a paper plate and handed it to Tyler Chase, Stephen and Lindsey’s son.
“Thanks, Miss Agnes.” He trotted off, trying to shove a forkful of cake in his mouth before skittering down the deck steps to the yard.
She started to call out for him to slow down, but Lindsey snatched him first.
Satisfied