Please help her feel young again, Hope prayed. With the days she has left, let her know love one more time.
Chapter Five
Matthew knew what his mother was up to the minute that he saw Hope through the Sunshine Café’s front window.
“Look, there’s Nora and her granddaughter.” Mom flashed him a not-so-innocent smile. “I told Nora to get a table big enough for all of us. I thought brunch sounded like just the thing. I told Harold to meet us there, but it looks like Helen might be coming, too.”
“Mom, tell me you didn’t invite Hope and Nora to join us.” Matthew kept tight hold on Ian and Kale as he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk crowded with after-church traffic. “Tell me you wouldn’t meddle in my life like that.”
“It’s just brunch. Nora’s been so housebound I thought—”
“You didn’t think. You just decided what you wanted to do and lied about it to me.”
“Lied?” Her jaw sagged and her free hand lighted on the back of his. “I did no such thing. I just didn’t tell you—”
“The truth?”
“No, that Hope would be joining us.” Mom looked so proud of herself, as if she truly believed she was doing what was best for him. “Well, look, Nora’s waving at us through the window. It’s too late to back out now, but if you want to—”
Matthew’s jaw snapped tight. He hated it when his mother did this. She meant well, and he figured she didn’t want him to be as lonely as she was, but that didn’t mean she could break open his heart like this and make him remember everything he was missing.
“Daddy!” Ian complained loudly, tugging hard against Matthew’s grip. “I wanna hamburger.”
“Hamburger, Daddy,” Kale demanded. “I’m hungry.”
They went inside, but he didn’t like it. The boys were already counting on devouring one of their favorite meals and he wouldn’t disappoint them. Not that he could stomach his mother thinking that her plan was working.
“Look at those darling boys,” Nora crooned, welcoming them all with a bright hello.
Hope sat at her grandmother’s side, somehow elegant and country-fresh at the same time in a lavender cotton dress, the kind that swirled around her woman’s form, making her look as tempting as spring. She met his gaze and shrugged, letting him know she’d been as tricked into this as he was.
“It’s the lady!” Ian raced straight to Hope and climbed onto the empty chair beside her with a clatter.
Hope held the chair steady as the boy settled down next to her. “I like your shirt.”
“Trucks.” Ian looked down at his shirt and slapped his little hand across a red truck imprinted there. “This is a fire truck—” he moved his fingers “—and a ladder truck and a tanker truck.”
Matthew hefted Kale onto a chair at the end of the table, leaving his mother to deal with the booster seats the waitress was lugging toward them, and went to rescue Hope.
“He’s into trucks,” Matthew explained as he bent to haul Ian out of the chair next to Hope, where he clearly didn’t belong.
“So am I, as a matter of fact.” She laid her warm fingers on his forearm to stop him from lifting the boy away, and her touch and words surprised him. “Ian, guess what? I saw a dump truck yesterday.”
“I seed a fire truck and…and it had water and everything.” Ian looked proud of himself.
Mom, at the end of the table, shot a happy look at Nora and beamed as if she’d discovered a big pot of gold.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Matthew grabbed Ian around the middle. Hope might be a good sport about his mother’s meddling and she was being kind to his son, but she clearly wasn’t into children. It wasn’t as if, at her age, she was married with kids of her own. “Little fireman, let’s get you over here with Gramma so you can’t bother Hope.”
“He can stay, Matthew.” Her words were velvet steel. “If you want to move him, fine, but he’s not bothering me.”
“He’ll be like this through the whole meal.”
“I like Ian. He’s a fellow truck lover.” The truth shone in her eyes—she seemed to really want Ian beside her. “Look, if you don’t trust me with him, sit right here with us and make sure I don’t start a food fight.”
“Are you kidding? Look at those two old meddling women.” He looked up to find both Mom and Nora watching him.
“Watch who you’re calling old, young man,” Nora admonished but looked undaunted as she winked at him. “Look at how your little boy takes to Hope.”
Help. That’s what he needed. Big-time help. Before he could protest, Hope spoke up.
“Nanna, you know I like children, so stop torturing Matthew or I’ll burn your supper tonight.” Hope flashed her grandmother a warning look, but her words held no real threat.
The door behind him snapped open and Helen walked through, escorting Harold. As the older women turned to greet the newcomers, Matthew knelt beside Hope and lowered his voice. “If we don’t protest this with a united front, they’ll think their matchmaking tricks are working.”
“So? Let them.” There were shadows in Hope’s eyes, too, and he watched her press a hand to her stomach, as if she were in pain. “Sooner or later they’ll figure out the truth and they’ll be happily married by then.”
She looked confident and somehow unhappy, too, and that troubled him. He wasn’t the only one hurt by this. As Helen and Harold made their way to the table, settling down on the far side of Nora, Matthew couldn’t help leaning close to whisper in Hope’s ear. “What about Helen?”
“Good question.” She swept a lock of hair from her face, an unconscious gesture that drew his gaze, and he couldn’t look away from her beauty. Her skin looked silken-soft, and she smelled like sun-kissed wildflowers.
Why couldn’t he stop noticing?
Hope caught Matthew alone in front of the egg trays at the buffet server. Grabbing a plate, she slid into line behind him. “Those women are incorrigible, using little children to further their matchmaking plans. Look at them.”
Matthew peered over his shoulder toward their table situated near the front of the café, where Patsy straightened up from pouring ketchup on Josh’s plate. His mom flashed him a triumphant smile that might mean, “See, I was right.” Seated next to Helen, Nanna laughed, caught in the act of spying.
“I see.” He reached for a serving spoon, trying to control a building anger. “They look pleased with themselves.”
“Too darn pleased.”
“You’re encouraging them.” Matthew spooned a heap of scrambled eggs onto his plate. “And I don’t like it. It’s not like I want Mom to think there’s a chance I would want—”
He paused. No, those words hadn’t sounded right. That wasn’t what he meant.
“Oh.” Hope heard his words and her fingers knocked against a serving spoon with a clatter. “That’s fine, Matthew. I’ll straighten things out once we get back to the table.”
He’d spoken without thinking, out of anger and hurt and frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I wouldn’t want to be seen with you.”
“It’s okay. You have every right to your opinion.” She scooped up a poached egg and plopped it on her plate, concentrating very hard