Covering the distance to the refrigerator, she took out a carton of milk and a pitcher of iced tea. “That’s because I started working at Hope Memorial Hospital a little over six weeks ago. Knowing your aversion to a hospital, I doubt you hung around once you delivered your patients to the E.R.”
“Ah, you know me too well. Where did you move from?”
“Denver, Colorado.” Kathleen poured milk into two large glasses.
“Can I help you set the table or something?”
“No, I’ve got this. You brought the dinner. That’s enough, and my sons will be ecstatic they aren’t having what I planned tonight—tuna casserole.”
“I ran into your mother as I was leaving my house. She asked me where I was going when I should be resting. I told her I was feeling better and decided to take dinner to you and the boys. She gave her stamp of approval.”
I’m sure she did. Her mother was a romantic at heart and had encouraged Kathleen to start dating almost immediately after returning home. “She goes out every Thursday night with Mildred.”
“Not Nurse Ratched?”
“The one and the same.”
Gideon rubbed the back of his neck, his forehead creased. “She’s a friend of the family?”
“Yes.”
“That will teach me to keep my mouth shut.”
“She comes across tough and no-nonsense, but she really has a very loving heart. That is, once you get to know her.” Kathleen pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the sheepish look on his face. “I tell you what. You can get the plates down from that cabinet and napkins from that drawer—” she pointed to the locations “—and I’ll go get the boys before this pizza gets cold.”
As she strolled from the kitchen, the sensation that he was staring at her sent a tingling wave through her. Goose bumps rose on her arms. She quickened her pace down the hallway to Jared and Kip’s room. She’d had her younger son go into the bedroom the boys shared while Kip was in hers. Time-out in the same room only escalated their skirmishes, which had been growing worse since they’d moved to Hope.
When she opened the door to the boys’ bedroom, Jared sat on his twin bed, chunking paper wads into the trashcan. A whole notebook, almost gone, littered the floor.
“Jared!”
He glanced at her, grinned and said, “Watch me, Mom.” He tore the last sheet from the pad and scrunched it up into a ball, then tossed it toward the basket. It bounced off the rim and dropped into the pile of other missed shots. He frowned. “Maybe I should move it closer.”
“No, maybe you should clean this mess up and then come to dinner. We’re having pizza.”
“Not tuna? Yay!” He scooted off the bed, taking half the covers with him. “The only reason I didn’t make many baskets was cause I can’t use both arms.”
“Then I would refrain from climbing houses.”
He bent over and picked up the first wad, frowning at his cast on his left arm. “This is gonna take forever.”
“You should have thought about that before you decided to make the mess.” She turned away before he saw her smile. Natural consequences were great teachers, but her son could have broken something much worse than his wrist.
Across the hall, she found Kip at the door listening to her and Jared. She peeked into her room to make sure he hadn’t left a similar mess.
He looked up at her with those big brown eyes and long eyelashes and said sweetly, “I’m sorry I fought with Jared, but he was bugging me. I had to do something to shut him up.”
“Getting into a wrestling match isn’t an option. Dinner is ready.”
“I heard the doorbell. Did Gideon come with pizzas?”
“Yes.”
“Sweet.” Kip hurried ahead of her toward the kitchen.
“Next time, young man, warn me when someone is coming over, especially with dinner.”
Jared came out of his room and followed behind Kathleen. “Why did he bring pizza?”
Kathleen waited for Jared, cradling his cast to his chest. “To see you all.”
“Really? Us?”
“I think he enjoyed your visit yesterday. He thought you and Kip might enjoy pizza.”
“Kip talked his ear off. I hardly got to say anything. He was constantly asking him about what a firefighter did.”
When she and Jared entered the kitchen, Kip was already seated at his place with three pieces of pizza with all the toppings on it. “I’m starved, Mom.”
“We’re coming.” Her gaze latched on to Gideon standing by the counter. She crossed to the table and took a seat. Gideon moved behind her and helped her scoot her chair forward before he sat. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had done that for her.
After Jared plopped down in the last place between Gideon and Kip, Gideon looked at each boy. “I remember Kip mentioning how much he loved pizza yesterday. Earlier that sounded good to me, so I thought I would share some with y’all.”
“Pizza is okay.” Jared dug into the box nearest him and pulled out four pieces, piling them on his plate.
“Hold it. You never eat that many.” Kathleen clasped her hands into fists in her lap. “Take one at a time.”
“Kip has three pieces,” Jared whined.
“The same goes for him, too.” Kathleen pinned her older son with a stare that told him to behave.
“Sorry.” Kip began to put his slices back.
“Leave them. You’ve already put them on your plate, but next time one piece at a time. I expect you two to eat every last bite of what you have on your plate.” Lord, give me patience. “Remember your manners. We have a guest tonight.”
Both of her sons hung their heads but exchanged narrow-eyed glances.
“Jared, it’s your turn to say the blessing.” Kathleen uncurled her hands.
“Bless this food. Amen.” Jared jerked up his head, grabbed his first piece and took a big bite.
When Gideon reached for a slice of Canadian Bacon, her favorite, Jared’s gaze fixed on his cast on his left arm that came down to his wrist but allowed him the use of his hand.
“No one has signed your cast,” he said with a full mouth of food. Kathleen gave him the look, and Jared immediately chewed his pizza and swallowed before adding, “I’ve got most of my friends to sign mine at school. Annie wanted to, but I wouldn’t let her.” He held up his arm as though he had a trophy in his grasp.
“Why not?” Gideon poured some iced tea into his glass.
“A girl? No way. I would never hear the end of it.” Jared’s mouth pinched together, and he tilted his head in a thoughtful look. “Can you work with that cast? I’m having trouble doing things with mine.”
A fleeting frown flitted across Gideon’s features. “Not where I want to be. I’ll be stuck behind a desk at headquarters until this comes off.”
“I have to wear mine for six weeks. How about you?”
“Seven or eight weeks.”
“Bummer,” Kip said, pulling Gideon’s attention to him. “That sounds boring.”
“Yep. But