want to sew it up, or do you want me to do it while you sit there?”
Dylan still hadn’t let go of her. Sondra rasped, “I need to do it myself.”
“Okay. Afterward, you go on in and take a nap.”
“What about your soda?”
Dylan smiled softly. “I’ll claim it some other time.”
Eight
Two days later, Dylan banged on the back door. When Sondra opened it, he dusted his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. “Is that offer for a soda still open?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
“I’d rather sit out here, if you don’t mind. I’m gritty as a gopher hole.”
She opened the refrigerator, took out two cans, and went to the sink. A few seconds later, Sondra nudged him a bit so she could sit beside him on the porch steps. He tipped back his Stetson, rolled the can very slowly across his forehead, and sighed with the pleasure of that simple act. Sondra chortled softly as she handed him a wet dishcloth. “This is almost as cool.”
“Mmmm. Thanks.”
While he swiped at his hands, face, and neck, she popped open the tab on his soda. He accepted it with a grateful nod. “Did you and Teresa have fun today?”
“Oh, yes. Your sister is terrific with kids.” He’d called her each evening to see how she fared, and he’d about had a fit last night when she let slip that she’d be going to the foster home today. Next thing she knew, Teresa invited herself to go along. They’d had a wonderful time.
“Yeah, well, she said the same thing about you.” He took another gulp and swallowed it.
“If I were in a more stable situation, I’d be tempted to scoop up half a dozen of those kids and bring them home.”
He gave her an alarmed look. “You wouldn’t—”
She shook her head. “No. I’m already in over my head. Still, I love children. I sit them in a circle and let each one hold a chick. You should see how the kids respond. It’s delightful.”
He tilted the can at her. “It’s delightful what it does for you.”
His observation made her feel unaccountably shy. During the time she’d been sick, they’d crossed over from being unwilling partners to fledgling friends. He’d proven himself trustworthy. Since then, the aching loneliness she’d felt since Kenny’s death seemed less intense.
Unaware of her musings, Dylan said, “Yep.” He took another healthy swig. “It’s easy to see why Miller kept the henhouse. You beam when you leave here with those chicks, and you come back aglow. Not many women find contentment with such simple pleasures.”
She shrugged self-consciously. “I’ve never been like other gals.” Uncomfortable, she quickly changed the subject. “I have hot dogs and corn on the cob in the house. Are you hungry?”
“Starving!”
He said it with such gusto, she smiled. “What do you like on your dogs?”
“Ketchup, mustard, and pickle relish.”
“No onions or cheese?”
He chugged down the soda and let out a long, slow, noisy breath of bliss. “You really do ’em up. No onions. Cheese, if you have it.” He then hitched a shoulder. “Sondra, I’m sweaty, hot, and real hungry. Maybe you’d rather—”
“I left a few of Miller’s shirts hanging in the guest room. You’re welcome to go have a quick shower. As much time as you spend here, it’d probably be a good idea for you to bring over a change of clothing. I’ll eat one hot dog, maybe two. The rest are going to go rotten before I eat them again, and the buns go stale in this heat. Feel free to polish off as many as you want.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Sondra did know what she was asking for. She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in ages. If she wanted, she could attribute feeding him to good manners and basic gratitude, but the truth of the matter was, she wanted company, and Dylan propped open the door of friendship by dropping in for a drink.
For the first time, they shared a meal. Sondra folded her hands in her lap and dipped her head for a quick, silent prayer. To her
Dylan still hadn’t let go of her. Sondra rasped, “I need to do it myself.”
“Okay. Afterward, you go on in and take a nap.”
“What about your soda?”
Dylan smiled softly. “I’ll claim it some other time.”
Eight
Two days later, Dylan banged on the back door. When Sondra opened it, he dusted his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. “Is that offer for a soda still open?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
“I’d rather sit out here, if you don’t mind. I’m gritty as a gopher hole.”
She opened the refrigerator, took out two cans, and went to the sink. A few seconds later, Sondra nudged him a bit so she could sit beside him on the porch steps. He tipped back his Stetson, rolled the can very slowly across his forehead, and sighed with the pleasure of that simple act. Sondra chortled softly as she handed him a wet dishcloth. “This is almost as cool.”
“Mmmm. Thanks.”
While he swiped at his hands, face, and neck, she popped open the tab on his soda. He accepted it with a grateful nod. “Did you and Teresa have fun today?”
“Oh, yes. Your sister is terrific with kids.” He’d called her each evening to see how she fared, and he’d about had a fit last night when she let slip that she’d be going to the foster home today. Next thing she knew, Teresa invited herself to go along. They’d had a wonderful time.
“Yeah, well, she said the same thing about you.” He took another gulp and swallowed it.
“If I were in a more stable situation, I’d be tempted to scoop up half a dozen of those kids and bring them home.”
He gave her an alarmed look. “You wouldn’t—”
She shook her head. “No. I’m already in over my head. Still, I love children. I sit them in a circle and let each one hold a chick. You should see how the kids respond. It’s delightful.”
He tilted the can at her. “It’s delightful what it does for you.”
His observation made her feel unaccountably shy. During the time she’d been sick, they’d crossed over from being unwilling partners to fledgling friends. He’d proven himself trustworthy. Since then, the aching loneliness she’d felt since Kenny’s death seemed less intense.
Unaware of her musings, Dylan said, “Yep.” He took another healthy swig. “It’s easy to see why Miller kept the henhouse. You beam when you leave here with those chicks, and you come back aglow. Not many women find contentment with such simple pleasures.”
She shrugged self-consciously. “I’ve never been like other gals.” Uncomfortable, she quickly changed the subject. “I have hot dogs and corn on the cob in the house. Are you hungry?”
“Starving!”
He said it with such gusto, she smiled. “What do you like on your dogs?”
“Ketchup, mustard, and pickle relish.”
“No onions or cheese?”
He chugged down the soda and let out a long, slow, noisy breath of bliss. “You really do ’em up. No onions. Cheese, if you have it.” He then hitched a shoulder. “Sondra, I’m sweaty, hot, and real hungry. Maybe you’d rather—”
“I left a few of Miller’s shirts hanging in the guest room. You’re welcome to go have a quick shower. As much time as you spend here, it’d probably be a good idea for you to bring over a change of clothing. I’ll eat one hot dog, maybe two. The rest are going to go rotten before I eat them again, and the buns go stale in this heat. Feel free to polish off as many as you want.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Sondra did know what she was asking for. She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in ages. If she wanted, she could attribute feeding him to good manners and basic gratitude, but the truth of the matter was, she wanted company, and Dylan propped open the door of friendship by dropping in for a drink.
For the first time, they shared a meal. Sondra folded her hands in her lap and dipped her head for a quick, silent prayer. To her
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