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and, bypassing Jessica, went over and sniffed Grant’s socks and pant legs.
    â€œWho’s this?” He stretched out his fingers.
    â€œHer name’s Cinders. Careful, she’s not all that friendly.”
    Belying her words, the black feline butted her head into Grant’s palm, eager for affection. Then she promptly leaped onto his lap.
    â€œYou were saying?” Grinning, he slid her a sideways glance.
    Jessica watched Cinders lap up his attention. “I’ve never seen her do that.”
    â€œSo you named her that because of her coloring?”
    â€œJane named her. Our older sister Megan used to entertain us with stories. For me, the scarier the better. Jane’s the opposite—she hates to be frightened. One night, after a particularly harrowing tale, this kitten hopped out of the shadows and pounced on poor Jane. Her fur was streaked with ashes. I’m not sure how she got so filthy.”
    Grant sneezed. “You don’t know where she came from?”
    â€œWe searched the woods for her mother and came up empty. Cinders didn’t make it easy for us to care for her, but we managed. I get the impression she regards us as necessary but annoying.”
    His tanned, capable-looking hands gently stroked her sleek fur. He sneezed again. Dipping his head, he murmured, “You and I have something in common, don’t we, Cinders?”
    Another sneeze overtook him, and he winced. Either his head or his side was paining him. Maybe both. Her mother had applied fresh ointment and gauze that morning and told her it looked the same as yesterday. Taking in his profile, Jessica worried over the possibility of infection.
    Only because he’d be forced to stay here longer , she reassured herself. Her focus must be on her own life, her own problems. Not someone passing through their lives. They would do their Christian duty and send him off with warm wishes.
    Jessica frowned. “Grant, I think you may have a sensitivity to cats.”
    â€œI can put up with itchy eyes and a runny nose for my newfound friend. After all, she’s the first one I’ve made here in Tennessee.”
    â€œYou and I aren’t friends?” she said partly in jest, the tiniest bit hurt that he’d discounted her.
    In the intimate closeness the serene, dark forest imparted, he lifted his head to regard her with eyes that had deepened to a navy hue. “That’s a question only you can answer, Jessica. Friends trust each other. They don’t suspect them of deceit and ill intent.”
    There was no condemnation in his tone. He’d spoken frankly, but there was understanding there, too. As if he identified with her misgivings.
    â€œIn that case, the answer is yes.”
    The slow arrival of gratitude, then relief and finally happiness passing over his clean-shaven features did serious damage to her defenses. Bolting to her feet, she bid him a brief good-night and reentered the house, seeking sanctuary in her room.
    She couldn’t allow herself to like Grant Parker. Empathy was acceptable. Concern for his health was natural. But opening herself up to a man, even for something as innocent as friendship, could very well be the first step to disaster.

Chapter Seven
    T he closer Jessica got to town, the easier it was to breathe.
    Rising before dawn, she’d completed her chores, fixed breakfast and dressed for church all before her mother emerged from her bedroom. Alice had been surprised, to say the least, but willing to keep their patient company. Jessica had woken Will and asked him to see to Grant’s needs before he left.
    She hadn’t wanted to face Grant across the breakfast table and witness the questions in his eyes. The brief moment of camaraderie between them last night had unsettled her, as had the unexpected longing to remain there on that porch with him, exploring the connection she felt, learning as much about him as possible. It wasn’t wise, getting