Mary Kate stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead, looking through the archway to the living room—at her kids, standing there next to Luke’s wheelchair. Talking to him, with Michael leaning against his knee as if they were old friends.
She fairly flew across the kitchen and into the living room. “Shawna and Michael Donnelly! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Grammy and Grandpa’s house.”
Shawna pressed her lips together, looking guilty. Michael turned an expression of blue-eyed innocence on her.
“We were, Mommy.”
“You’re not now.” She couldn’t look at Luke, and she was sure her cheeks were bright with embarrassment. “Who told you that you could come here?”
“Grammy said we could walk to Timmy Nelson’s house to play on the swings.” Shawna found her voice. “We do that lots of times. We stay right on the sidewalk and walk around the block and we don’t cross any streets.”
True, they were allowed to walk to the Nelson place. Mary Kate frowned. “This is not Timmy’s house.”
“Timmy wasn’t home,” Michael said. “And you said you were going to come here and it was only a little bit farther to walk and we wanted to meet the soldier.”
“Lieutenant Marino,” Shawna corrected.
She sent a quick glance toward Luke. He didn’t look happy, but neither did he look outraged, which he had every right to be.
“And you’re here, Mommy,” Michael added.
“You were not invited.” Neither were Gabe and Seth, of course, but that was beside the point.
“Lieutenant Marino doesn’t care,” Michael said. “I was telling him about the letter we got. How everybody liked it. He said that was good.”
At least Luke hadn’t let the children know how he felt about this influx of company. He was undoubtedly saving that for her.
“You should not have come here if Grammy thinks you’re at Timmy’s. What if she goes there and no one’s home? She’ll be worried.” She snatched the cell phone from her pocket and handed it to Shawna. “Go out to the kitchen, both of you, and wait there for me. Shawna, call Grammy and let her know where you are. Tell her you’ll come back with me.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Shawna turned to Luke. “I’m sorry we came when we weren’t invited.”
Luke’s face wore an interesting expression—he was obviously not used to dealing with children. “That’s all right,” he mumbled.
“Goodbye.” Michael patted his arm. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“Thank you.” Luke’s lips actually twitched, she was sure, before he got them under control.
Once the kids were more or less out of sight, she turned to Luke. “I’m sorry—” she began, but the rumble of a truck pulling into the driveway interrupted her. “The equipment is here,” she said quickly. “I’ll go and tell them where to put it.”
She hurried outside, relieved to have the inevitable confrontation with Luke put off at least for a few more minutes.
Actually, the interruption stretched even longer as her brothers carried out the rest of the chairs and then helped haul the exercise equipment in. The house seemed to rattle with the tread of heavy feet and the good-humored banter of men moving equipment.
She looked around for Luke, to find him sitting in the archway where he could see what was going on. That was encouraging. At least he wasn’t hiding himself away.
Gabe paused to say something to him, and Luke replied almost easily, as if they’d been talking together every day. Max pressed close to Gabe’s side, as always, and Luke reached out to stroke the golden fur. Something that had been very tense inside her started to relax. Did she dare to hope that this encounter might ease the isolation he seemed determined upon?
She crossed toward them. “Gabe, can you help get the parallel bars in place? I think they should go here, and you’ll have to fasten them in place.”
She gestured to a spot in the center of the floor. Fortunately there were good solid hardwood floors in here, not carpets for Luke to trip on.
“Parallel bars?” Luke’s brows lifted. “Are you planning to turn me into a gymnast?”
“No, I’m planning to help you walk again.” She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
It didn’t come. The black look told her, though, that he was probably just delaying it until they were alone.
Yell all you want, she told him silently. I’m not giving up on you, Luke Marino. I’m going to help you whether you want it or not.
“Hey, M.K., catch.”
Mary Kate turned to see a bright blue exercise ball heading toward her from Seth. Off balance, she grabbed for it, missing and stumbling toward the chair. Before she could land, Luke grabbed her, his strong hands steadying her.
“Sorry,” she muttered, straightening herself. “My brother’s an idiot sometimes. I didn’t mean to run into you.”
“It’s okay.” His hand still encircled her wrist, his fingers warm and strong.
She glanced at him, aware of how close they were, of how dark his smoky eyes were. Awareness seemed to dance between them, and she felt sixteen again. She tried to find something to say, and she couldn’t think of a single thing.
Mary Kate looked around the long table at her parents’ house, savoring the moment. Sunday dinners were a tradition in the Flanagan family, and at first, after Kenny’s death, she’d found it hard to come alone with the children. Now that the sharpest pain had faded, she was back to enjoying these times, with their reminder of the strength of family bonds. They were fortunate, more so than many families, that life had settled all of them in this area.
She especially loved this moment, when the meal was over. The children had run out into the backyard to play and the adults lingered over their coffee cups, reluctant to break the low rumble of conversation and the precious circle of fellowship.
Gabe’s wife, Nolie, leaned forward to pour a little more coffee. “If this nice weather keeps up, we can start doing Sunday picnics out at the farm again.”
Gabe held his cup out for a refill. “That means I’ll have to paint the porch and put up the swing.” He turned toward Mary Kate. “Do you think there’s any chance we could get Luke out for one of our picnics? It might do him good.”
“There are a lot of things that would help him. Getting him past wanting to hide is the tough part.” That occupied her mind whenever she wasn’t busy with something else—what could she do to give Luke an interest in life again?
“Poor boy.” Her mother’s warmhearted sympathy flowed out like a never-failing spring. “If only he wouldn’t shut people out. Everyone wants to help.”
“Luke always had that independent streak.” Gabe seemed to look back through the years. “Even on the football field, he wouldn’t wait for anyone to cover him. He’d just charge in and rely on himself. And he was strong enough that nine times out of ten, it worked.”
That was Luke, all right. If only she could find a way to turn that tenacity and strength to her advantage in helping him heal—“What happened the tenth time?”
Gabe smiled. “He got pounded into the turf, of course. He always shook it off and jumped up again, grinning like it was fun.”
“That’s where he is right now. But this time he’s not shaking it off.”
The other end of the table had gotten into a noisy conversation about baseball, so she lowered