“That’s not what I see.” His gaze shot behind her to where customers were grabbing plates from the stack, and moved forward to the heated trays of crisp bacon and spicy sausages. “I meant, why would a beautiful woman who has everything want to hang out with me.”
“Really, it’s okay.” Hope grabbed blindly for the tongs and dropped a bunch of sausages on her plate, then circled around Matthew, leaving him alone.
It wasn’t okay, and she didn’t know why, but a horrible tightness was squeezing into her chest. When she reached the table piled high with fruit and breads, she set her plate down and took a deep breath.
This was irrational. Completely insane. She should get a grip before someone noticed how upset she was. Taking a deep breath, she ladled melon slices onto her plate and tried not to take flight when Matthew eased beside her, reaching for a few sweet breads.
“Cinnamon rolls, for the boys.” His shoulder brushed her arm as he arranged the sweet-smelling pastries onto his crowded plate. “Hope, I’m sorry. I just meant that it’s not like either one of us wants half the town thinking we’re together. Rumors spread fast in a small town.”
“I see your point.” Trying to hide her hurt, she released the spoon too quickly, and metal clattered against the glass bowl. “For your information, I’m not all that bad to be around, at least, I’ve had other people think so. I might not be the best person in the world but I’m not the worst, thank you very much.”
Without looking at him, even as he was opening his mouth to say whatever it was that would just make her angrier, she grabbed her plate and stormed toward the table, no longer caring who noticed.
“Have a nice chat with Matthew?”
Hope set the plate on the table in front of Nanna and glared at her grandmother. She caught Patsy with a withering look and willed her voice to be quiet but firm. “No more matchmaking. I’ve had enough of it, and so has Matthew. Believe me, there’s no chance in a blue moon that we’ll ever have anything in common, so not another word. Not one more word.”
“She’s right.” Matthew towered behind her, square jaw clenched, broad shoulders set and a look of fury in his eyes. But his anger was controlled as he looked from his mother to Nanna, and then it seemed to fade away. “You heard Hope. We’re from different worlds and whatever you two have in mind is never going to work.”
“Don’t they say that opposites attract?” Patsy looked ready to launch into a full-out, charming defense but seemed to change her mind when she saw the look on her son’s face. “I only wanted to help, that’s all. Look at these little tykes. They need a mother’s care.”
“Yes, that’s right, and we love you both. We want you to be happy.” Nanna didn’t look one bit sorry. “Now, enough with this nonsense. Matthew, sit down and tend to your boys. Look what they’ve done with the ketchup.”
Matthew caught Kale before he wiped ketchup on his brother, distracted from the issue at hand, but Hope wasn’t fooled. She knew that Nanna had survived a life filled with losses and loneliness with an indomitable heart, and nothing would derail her, especially not something she felt was this important.
Frustrated, she kissed her grandmother’s cheek and headed for the buffet table to fill a plate for herself. Her stomach burned and even if she wasn’t hungry, she had to eat.
It wouldn’t be easy, sitting next to Matthew’s son and feeling Matthew’s solid presence all through the meal…and maybe feeling his dislike of her.
There was no way he would ever make Mom understand. Matthew fought frustration as he opened the refrigerator and hauled out a yellow pitcher. He slammed the door and rummaged in the cupboard for a plastic glass.
Sure, Mom was sorry but she didn’t understand. She thought he was lonely and that he was holding onto Kathy’s memory so that he could keep his heart safe from the risk of loving again. Well, she couldn’t be more wrong.
After pouring, he left the pitcher on the counter, snatched the glass and headed through the house. His footsteps echoed in the too-quiet rooms, and the dark shadows made him all too aware that he was alone. A wife would have turned on the lamps and maybe put on some soothing music. That’s what Kathy always did. His heart warmed, remembering.
He switched on the lamps and shuffled through the CDs, but couldn’t find anything that felt right. Silence was okay; he didn’t need to cover up the sound of the empty hours between the triplets’ bedtime and his own.
Matthew sat down in the recliner, put his feet up, drank some juice and grabbed the paperback book lying facedown on the end table. But when he flipped to where he’d left off reading last, the printed words stared back at him and he couldn’t concentrate.
He kept seeing Hope storming away from him in the café, hiding her hurt feelings behind cool anger, and he slammed the book shut. Frustration and conscience tugged at him. He wanted to head outside and keep going until the darkness and the cool night air breezed away this horrible knot of emotion and confusion tightening around his heart.
As he launched out of the chair, his feet hit the ground with a thud and he flew across the room. The silence felt thunderous and the emptiness inside felt as endless as the night. The doorknob was in his hand and the next thing he knew he was pounding down the front steps and into the cool darkness.
The crisp winds lashed across him, tangling his hair and driving through his shirt and jeans. He shivered, but at least he was feeling something besides heartache. Besides loneliness.
The wind rustled through the maple leaves near the house, and the rattling whisper of the aspens along the property line chased away the silence still ringing in his ears. He breathed in the scents of night earth, grass and ripening alfalfa from the nearby fields at the edge of town as a distant coyote called out and was answered. An owl swooped close on broad, silent wings and cut across the path of light spilling through the open door. He missed Kathy so much.
Father, help me to put an end to this.
There was no answer from the night, no sense of calm, no solution whispering on the wind.
“Daddy?”
Matthew heard a sniff and spun around. Josh huddled on the doorstep, rubbing at his eyes with both fists, his spaceship printed pajamas trembling around his small form. “What are you doing out of bed, hotshot?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“Then come have some water with me.” Matthew scooped his youngest son into his arms and held him close. He headed back into the house, shut the door with his foot and carried Josh into the kitchen.
The boy didn’t want to let go, so Matthew balanced him on one hip while he searched for a second glass and found a clean one in the top rack of the dishwasher. He filled the glass while Josh clung to him.
The small boy was too sleepy to talk. He drank, smacked his lips and closed his eyes. Matthew’s heart tightened with love for his child. For Kathy’s child.
With Josh’s head bobbing against Matthew’s shoulder, he carried his son down the hall to the dark bedroom where a Pooh Bear night-light cast a faint glow across the two other boys sound asleep in their beds, teddy bears clutched in small hands.
“Sweet dreams,” Matthew whispered as he laid Josh down on the spaceship sheets and covered him with the matching comforter.
Josh murmured, reaching out. Matthew spotted the bear lying forgotten against the wall and pressed it against his son’s chest. The boy yawned, eyes closed, and sleep claimed him. He didn’t stir when Matthew kissed his brow.
Kathy would have loved this, tucking in the boys, basking in the peace and quiet. She would have treasured the sense of rightness, of a day well spent and the blessing of three healthy sons asleep in their beds. With every beat of his heart, he missed her.
She was