Page 10 of Shielding His Heart
I heard or read somewhere that the kitchen was the heart of the home. I found that true now more than ever, having Tana back in it. Because she is the heart of our family.
She’d been determined to have restaurant-grade everything—the stove, the oven, the dishwasher, even the sink. Most of my favorite memories of our family are in this kitchen, with Tana at the stove and the scent of something delicious lingering in the air.
The house feels empty now, like the kitchen has been since she’s been gone.
She stands next to the sink as Gemma describes her favorite dinner.
“Do you like spaghetti?” Gemma asks, her high-pitched voice full of excitement. I should’ve known she’d be thrilled at the thought of food. At eight, she eats like a line-backer and is still willow thin.
Tana shifts from one foot to another and gnaws on her lower lip. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
Paisley’s watchful eyes slide from Tana to me. “You used to make it all the time,” she says in a voice that isn’t accusing or resentful but somewhere in between.
It’s like a sucker punch. My little girl can’t believe she’s looking at her mother, who doesn’t remember something they used to do every week. Something as ingrained in her core memories as Tana’s scent is in mine.
It occurs to me then that this could’ve been a terrible idea. What if this completely screws them up more than they already are? Maybe I should’ve found somewhere else for Tana to stay until we figure things out more. The girls have been so excited, but they’re children. They need me to protect them from the harsh realities of the world.
I’m about to recommend that they give us some space when Tana rests her elbows on the island and leans conspiratorially closer. “Well, I guess the only way we’re going to find out is if we make some. Do either of you know how to make spaghetti?”
Paisley’s shoulders relax a little. Spaghetti is her favorite. But everything in me tenses up. The smile on Tana’s face and the soft, somewhat mischievous tilt of her lips made me fall in love with her.
Gemma squeals with glee. “Yes, you let us help you all the time.”
“Gemma,” I say warningly.
“No, she didn’t. But we can tell you how to make it,” Paisley says and nudges her sister with her shoulder. “Remember what Dad said. No lying to Mom, especially about stuff she can’t remember.”
I let out a breath. So far, so good. The jury is still out on whether we’ve screwed them up. I’m sure we probably will eventually, but they’re doing alright for now.
“Well then, I guess we have to go to the grocery store,” Tana says and glances at me.
Talk about a sucker punch. All I could imagine while she was in the hospital was having her back home, and now that she’s here, it’s bittersweet. I’m glad she’s safe, I’m glad she’s home, but I’m scared I’ll never get her back. How can you mourn someone when they’re right in front of you?
Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, load up. I guess we’re going to get all the fixings for spaghetti.”
Gemma squeals and Paisley looks a little lighter than she has in a long time. Tana hangs back while the girls sprint to the truck to climb inside. She glances at me a little warily.
“I hope that’s okay.”
I want to take her hand and squeeze it to reassure her like I’ve done a thousand times before, but I know how physical contact makes her nervous. “Sure. We gotta eat it sometime. I appreciate you indulging them. I know it’s hard on everyone.”
Tana lifts a shoulder. “They seem like nice kids. And besides, I figure doing things they’re used to might be a way to jog my memory.”
I chew over that statement as we get loaded up in the car. The girls chatter excitedly in the backseat, and a quick glance in the rearview mirror shows them content for now. Tana buckles in quietly and clasps her hands tightly in her lap.
This must all be so strange for her. We’re all essentially strangers, and she has to fit herself into a life that’s supposed to be hers, yet she has no memory of. What a cluster.
“Is there anything else you need?”
Her eyes dart to mine. “What do you mean?”
“From the store. Anything you want to eat? Anything like toiletries or whatever?” I say the last awkwardly because even though we’ve been married for more than a decade, this isn’t the same woman. We’ve been thrown into this forced intimacy without even knowing each other. Like an arranged marriage, for fuck’s sake.
“I—I’m not sure. I hate sounding helpless, but I don’t know anything. You basically have a third child.” She chuckles nervously.
My heart squeezes in my chest. She can’t quite meet my eyes, and her whole body is tense. I’ve got to remember to take it slow with her. Be careful with her.
“I know this is hard on you. I can’t even imagine. But I hope you know I’m here for you, whatever you need. We’ll go to the store, get stuff for supper, and see if there’s anything else you need.”
