Page 64 of Tempting as Sin
She could hear the smile in Rafe’s voice. “My mother, eh. She is, of course.”
“I wish, though,” Lily said, “that there was more I could do. Her grandmother’s too unhealthy. Those cigarettes. The oxygen. What if…”
“I don’t think,” Rafe said, “that you need to go to ‘what if’ just yet. When I met you, I thought you were like a wild bird. Two steps forward, one step back. I think Bailey’s like that, too. Give it a bit of time.”
“I thought a fawn,” Lily said.
“Or a fawn,” he agreed. “The deer family, that’s us. You’re doing enough. Baby steps. That’s what’s going to work. Trust. It’s a slow build thing, same as with you. We got it sorted for today, and that’s all good. Focus on that.”
“Tomorrow, though,” she said. “Riding. Should we invite her? I was thinking that she’d love it, but now, I’m not at all sure what’s best to do.”
“Ask her to come look after Chuck instead,” he suggested. “She’ll be useful, which is her comfort zone. I’ll be gone as well, and she can relax. We’ll take her riding another time, maybe, once she knows she’s safe with me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wouldn’t blame you for being insulted.”
“I’m not insulted.” He didn’t sound quite so calm anymore. “I’m bloody furious. I’d like to kick somebody’s arse. I just wish I knew whose to kick.”
“I know what you mean.” She pulled onto a side street and parked. “So do I.”
The next morning, Bailey wasn’t sure if she should go to Lily’s. The TV had been on all night, and when she came out in the morning, her grandma was on the couch like usual, but her feet were on a pillow on the coffee table, and she had a blanket over her. She was smoking like usual, and coughing even harder than normal. She was still wearing the same yellow dress as yesterday, and Bailey was pretty sure she hadn’t gone to bed. But then, her mom hadn’t always gone to bed, either. She’d said if you felt good, sometimes you wanted to stay up. Her grandma didn’t seem like her mom on those nights, though, not all busy and jumping around.
She made her grandma’s coffee like always, dipping the spoon in the jar just right and putting the right amount of Coffee-Mate and sugar in, but when she brought it over, her grandma flapped her hand at her and said, “I don’t want it. Bring me a glass of water.” Her voice was scratchy and weak, like she was really tired, but Bailey’s mom had sounded like that sometimes, too.
Bailey brought the water and the bag of powdered donuts. It was almost empty. They hadn’t been to Walmart in a long time. She said, “I could cook scrambled eggs if you wanted. Lily’s eggs taste way better than the ones from the store, because the chickens lay them every day. Lily says eggs should be fresh.”
She could cook eggs really well, even fried eggs without breaking the yolk. She knew how to cook lots of things. Hot dogs wrapped in a wet paper towel in the microwave, but not too long or they busted. Macaroni and cheese and Tuna Helper and Hamburger Helper, even though you needed hamburger for that, and they didn’t have it, even in the freezer. She could make frozen pizza, which you had to pay attention to, or it burned. She could even do spaghetti. Usually, she cooked dinner, because her grandma was tired at night. But her grandma hadn’t wanted any dinner for the past two days, not even strawberries or raspberries, which Lily said everybody liked best, especially if they were sick.
“I don’t want eggs,” her grandma said. She coughed a while more, then said, “You better not have stolen those, or that Lily isn’t going to let you come around anymore.”
Bailey’s face got hot. She was wearing her gray shorts and her favorite shirt, the one with the stars on it, but they felt itchy, like she was trying to pretend to be a popular girl and should be wearing her jeans instead. But it was going to be hot again, she could tell. She’d opened the window last night, but it had still been almost too hot to sleep. She got more mosquito bites in the shorts, but they were more comfortable.
She said, “I didn’t steal them. Lily says I can take any kind of food things, like goat cheese or spinach or tomatoes or raspberries or anything else I can put in my backpack. She has too much for her to eat. That’s why she has to take it to the food bank. The tomatoes are really good. They taste like candy. I could cook them with the eggs. I could put goat cheese in, too. It’s good for you. It has vitamins and protein. The more color there is in vegetables, the more vitamins they have, Lily says. Vitamins are good if you’re sick.”
“I don’t want tomatoes,” her grandma said. “I don’t want eggs, either. Vitamins aren’t going to fix my lungs. I don’t want goat cheese, and I don’t want any other kind of hippie food. Cheese is supposed to be orange.” The commercials ended, and her show came back on. It didn’t look exciting—just a bunch of ladies sitting on a couch and talking—but her grandma started watching anyway, and Bailey stood there a minute more, then left.
Bailey was late, which had Lily a little concerned.
Other than that, though, life was fine. Fine. She was going riding today, and what could be better than that? She didn’t have to think about the future. She’d done enough of that.
Rafe hadn’t been there when she’d gotten home at six-thirty last night, but her lawnhadbeen mowed, and the downed branches had been sawed into stove-sized pieces and stacked on the woodpile, too. But he hadn’t been there demanding her attention, demanding her admiration. Demanding anything at all. Which was perfect, right? It was what she’d wanted.
She’d texted him,Wow. Thanks,then hadn’t waited for his answer, maybe because she hadn’t wanted to need it. Instead, she’d changed her clothes, taken Chuck with her to do the evening chores, then had come back in, fed the dog, and opened her fridge. And had found more food in there. A couscous salad, surely made with her own goat cheese, tiny cherry tomatoes, herbs, and some shredded chicken. Meaning somebody hadmadeit, and made it here, not just bought it. There was a fresh loaf of the good bread, and a brand-new bottle of white wine chilling. Chardonnay. Not fashionable these days, and her favorite anyway. How had he known?
One way to find out. She called him.
Two rings, and he picked up. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. How did you know I liked Chardonnay best? Not to mention couscous salad? Wow, does that look good. I didn’t have time for lunch. You even picked and washed my spinach. I can’t believe it. Did you do all that? Or was it Martin?”
“Couldn’t be that I rang your sister and asked,” he said. “And do me a favor. I’m capable of that much cooking, and as my mum always says, food is—ah, caring. Of course, Martin may have done the shopping again, lessening my contribution sadly. The whole thing took me half an hour.”
“Oh.” She had a goofy smile on her face, and it didn’t matter. He couldn’t see. “But you didn’t stay. And she doesn’t say food is caring.”
“No, I didn’t. I had a workout to do. And if you must know, food is love, according to my mum. But we won’t say the scary L-word.”
She was having a hard time breathing. It was too soon, and she knew it. So why didn’t it feel that way? “A workout beyond my yard work.”
“Six more pounds to lose before I look like a sheriff. Long, lean muscle, and not as much of it, that’s the idea.”
