Page 41 of With All My Heart, Joy

“We’re done, kiddo. Let’s clean up.” They worked together, picking up the craft mess, then cleaning the dinner mess. Joy returned the empty boxes to the garage and noticed an overflowing laundry basket beside the washer. Would it be terribly presumptuous to start a load for Isaac? He was clearly very busy, and maybe being Mr. Clean wasn’t his strength either. The house wasn’t what she’d call messy, but neither was it clean.

“Do you have any dirty laundry, Paisley? Let’s help your dad out with some chores.”

She had just settled down to read to Paisley when she checked the time. Her eyes bulged. Ten after eight already? Isaac’s meeting must have gone late. How had the time passed so quickly?

He would be back soon.

That thought shouldn’t make her pulse rush like wind in a whiteout. But it did.

Chapter Eleven

“Thank you for speaking up. I always count on you for wise input.” The board chair of the special education committee for Silver Lake School District shook Isaac’s hand after the meeting ended—fifteen minutes late. Isaac could barely form a reply, so anxious was he to get back home and relieve Joy.

Why she’d made the grandiose offer of giving up her evening for him, he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. And he was desperately trying not to read into her gesture. She had remained just as hard to read this evening in his home as she had been earlier at the office. While she outwardly expressed no revulsion at the feelings he embarrassingly couldn’t seem to hide a moment longer, she wasn’t exactly welcoming him with open arms. At this point, hope was one straight line away from disappointment.

“I do my best,” he managed to say before stepping back. As he left the board room, he eyed the garlands that swooped in grand concave arches through the elementary school hallway. He really was negligent in his holiday cheer this year, and that wasn’t fair to Paisley. Not fair at all. He would remedy that on the weekend, if not before.

The snow had stopped, the roads clear but slippery as he drove home. He was grateful the meeting was at Paisley’s nearby school this month. They held it at the various schools in the district throughout the year. He was one of only two parent representatives who served on the board. Five board positions in the community were a big responsibility and time commitment, but he loved this city and especially anything he could do to improve opportunities for those who needed special programs. Like Paisley.

He turned into his driveway, ignoring the sudden increase in his heart rate. Joy was inside his home right now. Light spilled from the living room window, but he saw no movement within.

In the garage, he exited the car, then cocked his head. Why was the dryer running? HadJoydone the laundry? He jerked the door into the house open, intent on telling her he didn’t need a housekeeper, but the thought vanished when he was hit with a delicious combination of smells. A sweet aroma mixed in the air with something cheesy and savory. His stomach let out a yearning gurgle as he remembered the blackened beef in the trash. Paisley had eaten a tomato and cheese taco. He’d skipped dinner entirely.

When he rounded the corner into the living room, he stopped short. Joy sat on the couch, one arm around a sleeping Paisley. His daughter’s head was nestled against Joy’s chest, and one of Paisley’s favorite books rested on Joy’s lap. Joy lifted her hand in silent greeting, and Isaac took a moment for his eyes to sweep the room.

No weekend decorating necessary. Joy had set up the tree and what little else he owned in the way of holiday decor. And what was that? He leaned to see the cluster of colorful items on the kitchen counter. Homemade ornaments. Had she brought the supplies with her?

“There’s a plate on the stove for you,” Joy said, her voice low. Isaac followed his nose and found a plate covered in plastic wrap. Whatever was on it looked better than anything he’d cooked. Ever.

A glass platter of fresh chocolate chip cookies sat on the counter. His mouth watered as he put the potato chicken casserole in the microwave and leaned against the counter.

The kitchen and living room were clean. Paisley had enjoyed the night of her life. Decorations were up, minus the ones that belonged on the tree. The house smelled amazing. Laundry was underway. And he was about to devour a delicious, home-cooked meal.

Satisfaction seeped through every pore in his body. This. This was what he’d been missing. A wife.

Heat seared his face, and he swung around to yank the microwave door open.

Joy was not, nor would she ever be, his wife. No one would be. Hemustremember that. Grounding himself in reality—his lonely, single reality—he returned to the living room with his plate.

“This is incredible. I’m not much of a cook.”

Her eyes danced. They were golden in the dim lighting. “I saw the trash.”

He winced. “Okay, fine. I’m the worst cook in Oceana County, if not the entire state of Michigan.”

“I believe it.” She grinned, and Isaac had to force his eyes quickly from the captivating sight.

Instead, he gazed at Paisley’s serene face. She always looked like an angel to him in her sleep. “You worked magic in this house tonight, Joy.” Was that saying too much?

“We had fun. I hope I didn’t overstep with anything.” Her raised eyebrows offered a hopeful apology.

“You think any single dad is going to complain about coming home to clean laundry, a tidy house, a home-cooked meal, and a decorated living room?”

She looked hesitant, and Isaac braced himself. He hadn’t directly said anything yet about his feelings, but he’d done a poor job of hiding them. Profound gratitude swelled within him when Paisley raised her head, one eye open, and murmured sleepily, “Hi, Dad.”

He’d take any delay to the inevitable rejection. “Paisley Daisy. I missed you, cupcake. Ready for bed?”

Both eyes popped fully open, and she launched to her feet. “No! We have to decorate the tree! Joy said!”

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