Page 9 of Love on the Brain
Ryan stared at his cup. The steam released from the opening in the lid had dissipated. “I got Noah on my schedule in Austin. February twelfth.” He looked up. “It’s a whole month away.”
The pastor reached across the table and patted his hand. “God’s timing. Dr. Huntley said it was slow-growing. We have to trust that a month out is God’s plan.”
“It’s not God I’m having trouble trusting,” Ryan grumbled. “Huntley seems incompetent.”
“He’s far from incompetent,” Grant said firmly. “I’ve known him for decades. He goes to our church, and he cares about Noah. If he couldn’t get what he needed, there’s a good reason.”
Ryan’s cheeks heated in shame. He hadn’t known the surgeon was a friend of the family. He should have given him the benefit of the doubt before he jumped to conclusions.
“I didn’t know that,” he admitted. “I want you to know that you can count on me to get the job done.”
The pastor patted his hand again. “I know you will.”
* * *
The last thingRyan wanted to do was go to a game night, but he’d promised Pastor Porter he’d do his best to persuade her. Knowing Jane as well as he did, he’d had to frame it in such a way that didn’t sound like fun or imply she needed a break.
Jane Porter Allen didn’t take breaks.
She reset.
She pivoted.
She filled her cup so that she could pour into others.
Ryan offered to pick her up. He wanted to check in on Noah. When he arrived at the rustic cottage behind the church, Jane opened the door, yellow rubber gloves on her hands, and motioned him inside.
“I’m almost done cleaning up dinner. C’mon in.”
Ryan closed the door behind him and entered the cozy space. Older and smaller than the home she’d owned with Casey, the parsonage, as she’d fondly referred to it when they met, was just the right size for a family of four. When Casey died, she’d sold their house and moved back into her childhood bedroom. Shelby was living in Boston at the time, so Noah took her sister’s old room and they’d moved Shelby’s stuff up to the attic.
At the kitchen table, Noah and the pastor were playing Candyland. The little boy lit up when he saw who their guest was and slid off his chair.
“Uncle Ryan! Did you come to play with me? You can take Grandpa’s turn.”
Ryan squatted to catch Noah and scoop him up. The little guy was moving a little slow but didn’t show any outward signs of the side effects they’d worried about. “Another time, okay? I’m taking your mom out.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I hear the last time she had fun was a loooong time ago.”
Noah scrunched up his face. “Yeah. I can’t remember.” Noah patted his shoulder. “Maybe you can make her laugh? She doesn’t laugh much.”
The admission tugged at Ryan’s heart. His gaze fell on Jane through the partition that separated the kitchen from the family room, wiping down the counter with gusto, her ponytail swinging as she worked at a particular spot. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good.” Noah leaned his head on Ryan’s shoulder as he walked them into the kitchen.
“I’m ready!” Jane announced, pulling the elastic from her hair and sliding it on her wrist. “Just need to grab my coat. Dad, are yousureyou’re good? I can still stay—”
“Go.” Her father made a shooing motion. “We’re meeting Connie and Dale at the diner for dessert.”
“Fine, fine,” Jane acquiesced, running her fingers through her hair in a motion Ryan was familiar with. Jane almost always wore her hair in a ponytail, so her combing it out was a signal she anticipated a fun night, even if her words suggested otherwise.
That was a good sign.
“I’ll see you later, little man,” she said to Noah, holding her arms out. Ryan held him secure until he was in her arms. She hugged him close and kissed the top of his head. “Be good for Grandpa, okay?”
“I will, Mommy.” He kissed her cheek, and she set him down. “Have fun and be careful.”
“Yes, sir!” she saluted. He giggled, and Ryan couldn’t help smiling. Jane was a great mom. It came natural to her, being a caregiver with a servant’s heart.
Jane was quiet during the short drive to Damon’s carriage house apartment at the base of the Elisabeth Porter House’s driveway. He’d been to game nights there, years ago, when Kat’s great-uncle Charley still lived there. He wondered how the old guy was doing.
