Page 5 of Kansas Keeper
It’s not like I had a choice. I couldn’t just let her pass out and leave her alone on our back lawn.What kind of example would that set for Embry about how a man should treat a woman?
I had to catch Mara and carry her inside.
As much as I’d like to claim that she doesn’t feel good in my arms, it would be an absolute lie. I haven’t touched a woman since Sandra died, and I was perfectly fine with that, but dammit if it doesn’t feel amazing when Mara comes to, smiles, and rests her head back on my shoulder.
I try not to notice that she smells like a vanilla cupcake––my favorite dessert, but that mission proves difficult when the breeze blows a lock of her long, wavy hair across my face. It tickles, but I don’t have a free hand to scratch it, so instead I reluctantly focus my full attention on her delectable scent.
Embry opens the back door for us, without me having to ask her. The child is incredibly thoughtful and empathetic for someone so young. Perhaps it has something to do with losing her mother at such a young age and having me be present, but emotionally checked out, for the past year.
She’s had to learn to fend for herself in some respects, and that realization makes me incredibly sad. As much as I’d like to be emotionally available for her, I know that I’ve fallen short in many respects with that mission.
I gingerly set Mara down on our sofa and place a throw pillow behind her back. The bright orange pillow is a reminder of Sandra, who insisted that the citrus-colored decorative pillows and matching throw rugs made our living room pop with color.
Seeing Mara lean forward to arrange the pillow that Sandra loved makes me irrationally angry. I don’t want another woman in our home, on our sofa, or spending time with our daughter. It feels like a betrayal to my wife, yet here we are.
This stranger is forcing her way into our lives, and I feel helpless to stop it.
One glance in her direction shows me that the woman is still far too pale. Although it pains me to see her leaned back on Sandra’s pillow, I can’t allow Embry to see me fail to show kindness to a fellow human, and the child’s wide eyes are gazing up at me with worry evident as she waits to see how this will play out.
“Will you please go get Mara a glass of water?” I ask my little girl.
Eager to help, my daughter nods and scurries toward the kitchen. When she returns, she has a glass that is coated in fingerprints. It is half full with tap water, but no ice.
Mara takes a sip of the water and sighs as if it is the most delicious, high-end cocktail she’s ever tasted.
“Is the water helping?” Embry asks before biting her lower lip.
“So much,” the woman assures the little girl.
Relief floods my child’s expression, making it obvious that she was really worried about the woman’s health.
“I think I’m going to be okay now,” Mara continues, but she tries to get up too quickly, and it’s clear that she is dizzy.
Not wanting her to pass out again, I tell her firmly. “You need to relax for a while. I’ll go call our doctor.”
“No,” she says adamantly. “I don’t need a doctor. I just haven’t eaten in a while.”
At my questioning look, she adds, “I was too nervous to eat before coming here last night, and I skipped breakfast this morning. I’ll be fine once I eat something. I promise.”
“I guess you’ve weaseled your way into having lunch with us,” I mutter under my breath, making sure the snarky comment isn’t loud enough for Embry to hear.
When Embry looks up at me, I suggest, “How about if we make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch?”
“Grilled?” she asks me with hope-filled eyes.
“You bet, if you get out the ingredients,” I answer, which makes her jump up and scurry toward the kitchen.
Staring down at the hardwood floor to avoid looking into Mara’s beautiful eyes, I ask, “Does that sound okay?”
I can’t quite keep the grin at bay when she answers, sounding just like Embry, “It sounds scrumptious.”
6
MARA
I’ve eaten plenty of grilled cheese sandwiches in my lifetime, but somehow, I missed out on the delicacy that is a grilled PB&J––up until now. After one bite of the ooey-gooey deliciousness, I’m convinced this is heaven on a plate.
Embry and her dad both laugh when I say as much.
