A Family for Luke Page 9

  “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Janie felt a little disappointed that Dodie couldn’t stay to help her out, but she had already prevailed on her sister’s good graces enough.

  Dodie gave her a quick hug. “You take good care of my sister, okay?” she said to Luke, fluttered her fingers at her nieces and nephew and then was gone.

  “She’s quite the ball of fire,” Luke said as the door fell shut behind her.

  “That’s our Dodie. Always on the run. She’s a great sister, though. A bit flighty, but a great sister.”

  Janie took a step, then faltered. Again Luke caught her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just get me to the couch,” she said, her voice breathless at the pain and his nearness.

  “So you have any pain reliever?” he asked as he led her out of the entrance into the living room.

  “In the medicine cabinet upstairs.”

  “Todd, go upstairs and get your mother some Advil.”

  Luke helped her onto the couch and before she could stop him, gently unzipped her boot.

  She couldn’t stifle the cry of pain as he gently eased it off her foot.

  “This looks just great,” he said sarcastically. “You really twisted this.”

  Now free of the boot, the throbbing in her foot doubled.

  “Do you have a tensor bandage?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I think I’ve got one. I’ll go get it.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You will not. You’ve got three kids who need you, and you can barely walk.” Luke’s voice was hard with anger as he stood. “Let me help you out. Besides, it was my dog that made you fall down the stairs.”

  “I’m not just being stupid about this, you know,” she said quietly. “I’ve got to think about my kids. I can’t afford to let you…” She stopped there, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

  “To let me into your life. I got that. I’m just trying to help you. There’s no strings attached.”

  But she knew the way she felt about him helping her up the walk and her initial attraction to him combined to weave a web she would have a hard time untangling.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, and vanished before she could even formulate a response.

  Chapter Eight

  “No. You can’t come over.” Luke tried not to be taken in by the morose look on Cooper’s face. “You’ve caused enough trouble.” He tried to sound stern, the way Janie did, but he couldn’t pull it off.

  He bent and fondled his dog’s ears. “You’re a good dog. Just a bit of a problem from time to time.”

  He was about to leave when his phone rang. He would have ignored it, but it was the electrician he’d been trying to contact for the past couple of days. He kept the call as short as he dared, knowing Janie was probably doing exactly what he’d told her not to.

  Janie wasn’t on the couch when he stepped inside the house. Big surprise. The smell of onions frying lured him into the kitchen.

  Janie stood by the stove, her foot resting on a chair.

  “Are you nuts?” he asked, striding over to the stove. “I can’t leave you alone for even a minute.”

  “My kids need to eat.”

  “And you need a bandage. Here.” As he held it up, he made a show of looking at her foot resting on the chair, her ankle now swollen and bruised. “You should put it on right away.”

  Janie’s only response was a slight nod of her head.

  Why did he bother? She didn’t want his help. Nor did she want anything to do with him. He wasn’t going to score any points with her.

  “I’ll just put the bandage on the table,” he said.

  Still no reply. But then she shifted to get something out of a cupboard over the stove. He saw her grimace in pain and, to his surprise, a shiny track of a tear sliding down her cheek.

  The grimace he could ignore. The silence he got.

  But the tear unmanned him.

  He pried the fork from her hand and, taking a huge chance, clasped her around her shoulder, fitted his arm under her knees and lifted her off the floor.

  “Please, put me down.”

  He ignored her even as her one arm clung to him and her free hand snaked up to wipe her damp cheeks.

  “I have to make supper.”

  “I can help you with that.”

  “But you don’t know my kitchen and you don’t…”

  “Stop, you’re making me feel inadequate,” he joked, ignoring her protests. He sensed she was simply going through the motions. As if not objecting was against an innate set of rules she had laid down for herself.

  He settled her on an empty kitchen chair and pulled another one close with his foot.

  “Do you have any frozen peas or corn?” he asked as he carefully laid her foot on the chair.

  “I’m making chili for supper,” she said, sniffing, still looking away.

  Luke laughed at that. “I meant for your foot. You should ice it. Frozen peas or corn work great.”

  “I have some corn in the freezer up here.”

  Before he began digging, he turned the heat down under the onions. He found the corn, wrapped it in a tea towel and laid it on the kitchen table.

  “Lift your foot,” he ordered.

  To his surprise, she didn’t protest. He sat down, resting her foot on his lap, and began wrapping. Her ankle was warm, and she winced as he snugged up the tensor. “Let me know if it’s too tight,” he said.

  “It’s okay.” She was quiet, almost reserved as he worked. Upstairs he could hear the muted sounds of Autumn singing to herself and Todd talking to Suzie.

  The scent of sautéing onions sizzling gently in the frying pan, the onset of dusk. A woman sitting across from him, staring at his hands in the gathering quiet.

  Possibilities and yearnings rose within his heart. He’d known since he was thirteen, what he wanted.

  A home. A family. Al, his foster father, had given him that kind of life for the few years he was with him. He had hoped he and Jocelyn could share this.

  Now he was thirty-five and staring at middle age, still single. And he was holding the ankle of a woman who was slowly, unwittingly, shifting into the emptiness of his life.

  “That feels good,” she said, her voice softly breaking the silence.

  He put the final few wraps on it, tacked the end of the bandage down and placed her ankle on the wrapped corn. “That might not feel so good, but it will help,” Luke said, standing up. “So. Supper. Why don’t you direct?”

  “I was going to make biscuits with the chili, but—”

  “Which kind? Baking powder, cheese, yogurt, herb, sweet…”

  “Are you kidding me? I have one biscuit recipe.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. Guess I’ll have to see what I can throw together.” He hoped he hadn’t imagined the surprise on her face. He liked cooking and baking, but didn’t get to do it often enough. “Okay. Onions are cooking. We need peppers.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Texas chili or regular chili?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Beans or no beans?”

  “Definitely beans. Helps spread the meat farther.”

  “Okay. Beans it is.” He opened the refrigerator and had to blink. Everything inside was in containers, labeled and organized.

  “Peppers are in the—”

  “—vegetable drawer filed under P,” he said pulling open said drawer. “I should have known.”

  He heard a door open, Suzie yelling and Todd laughing. “What are those kids doing?”

  “Hopefully, playing.” Janie shifted in her seat and her face scrunched up in pain.

  “Well, if that’s all they’re doing…” He walked to the bottom of the stairs and called out. “Suzie, Todd, come downstairs. I need your help.”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” Janie said. “They’ll just get in the way and make a mess.”

  “So you’d sooner be alone with me?” Luke lif
ted his eyebrows.

  Janie’s mouth opened, then shut again, and she looked away, her cheeks flushed.

  A hopeful sign, Luke thought. He called up the stairs again.

  Todd showed up first. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get Suzie and Autumn down here. I need help cooking.”

  And in less than ten seconds he had three expectant faces looking up at him as if awaiting further instructions.

  Okay. At least they looked willing.

  “Todd, you go get some canned beans from wherever your mom keeps them, and then find a can opener. Suzie, you can start cutting up those peppers.”

  “She should put on an apron, Luke,” Janie said from her chair.

  “I’ll be okay, Mom.”

  “And make sure you don’t turn the heat under the pan too high. Otherwise the grease will splatter on the stove.”

  “What can I do?” Autumn asked, tugging on Luke’s shirt.

  Luke looked from Suzie, happily chopping and slicing, to Todd who was pulling out various cans from the cupboard, to Janie who looked ready to give more instructions.

  He knelt in front of Autumn, pleased that she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. “I think you can help me move your mommy to the living room so she can rest.”

  “No, that’s fine,” Janie protested.

  “You hold your mommy’s hand while I help her up.” Luke pushed himself up, walked over to Janie’s side, hooked her arm around his shoulder and slipped his other arm around her waist.

  “I should stay here,” Janie sputtered. “I should supervise. The kids won’t listen to you.”

  “You should relax.” Luke ignored her objections.

  “But Luke. The mess…” Janie’s protest died as Luke shot her a warning look.

  “I’ll clean up,” he said with a tone that—he hoped—conveyed his complete confidence in his ability to do just that. “Autumn, you keep holding your mommy’s hand so she doesn’t feel afraid.”

  “Okay.” Autumn looked up at her mother, as if to reassure her. “You’ll be okay, Mommy, won’t you?”

  Janie shot Luke an annoyed look. “I’ll be fine, sweetie.”

  As Luke walked her to the living room, he felt dismayed at the irony of this situation. He had this appealing and attractive woman in his arms, but it was against her will.

  “So, Autumn, you find your mommy a good magazine for her to read. She needs you to be her feet for the moment,” Luke said as he settled Janie on the couch. He gently lifted her foot and placed it on a pillow. “Comfy?”

  “Oh, very.” She sighed as she settled back. “You had a reason for this, didn’t you? You want me out of the kitchen.”

  Luke pressed a hand to his chest. “You read too much into my simple actions.”

  “I’m sure.” Janie glanced over at Autumn, who was rooting in the magazine rack. “Honey. Don’t make a mess. Just get me the first one you find.”

  “But Luke said I had to get you a good magazine.”

  Luke didn’t stop his smug grin. “See how well she listens?”

  Janie rolled her eyes, and Luke couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his mouth.

  “Just make sure you clean up,” she warned.

  He saluted. “I’m a man of my word.”

  “Then you’re a rare man indeed.”

  Luke wanted to stick around to find out what she meant by that. Wanted to know if it had anything to do with the man in the photo album—her husband, who was noticeably absent from the rest of the pictures. Her husband who had left her, according to the kids, well before he had died.

  “So. Biscuit recipe?”

  “In the red binder. Under muffins. Probably the fourth page in.”

  “Very impressive.”

  “And the chili recipe is—”

  Luke held up his hand to stop her. “Chili is an entity unto itself. One should never follow a recipe.”

  Janie frowned. “How do you know it will turn out?”

  “That’s the fun of cooking. The surprise. The adventure.”

  Janie sighed and took the magazine, which Autumn had now found for her. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “Just the way I like it.”

  And he returned to the kitchen.

  Should I be angry? Janie dropped her head back on the pillow as she heard giggling coming from the kitchen.

  Autumn had stayed with her for a few moments but then wandered back into the kitchen. Janie didn’t blame her. She wasn’t much for company right now. She couldn’t even read the magazine Autumn had so carefully chosen for her.

  The events of the day roiled in her mind as Janie tried to decide what she could do.

  Trouble was, the knotty lengths of her financial problem eluded her. And a man worked in her kitchen making supper and making her children laugh.

  The sound sent a shot of pain through her heart. Since Suzie had turned twelve, she’d been fighting Janie on clothes, on schoolwork, going to church—just about anything that required Suzie to do what Janie wanted her to.

  Janie hadn’t heard Suzie laugh in months. And now, this man who had invaded their home was the one to elicit that elusive response.

  She flipped listlessly through the magazine, then shifted the defrosting bag of corn on her ankle.

  A bowl fell to the floor followed by a groan.

  Janie couldn’t stand it anymore. She reached over, took the bag of corn off her foot and made her slow way to the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Wipe that up quick, before Mom sees it,” Todd whispered just as she reached for the doorjamb.

  “I’ll need the vacuum cleaner,” Suzie shot back.

  Don’t go inside, a quiet voice teased as she lingered between the living room and the kitchen, her ankle throbbing. Let them figure it out. Go lie down.

  But if I don’t go in there, I’ll have more work to do later on.

  She took a shuffling step forward, stopped and stared.

  A cutting board sat on the counter covered with peppers in various states of dismemberment. A large bag of flour had fallen sideways on the floor and a trail of flour was strewn from the cupboard to the back door. Luke stood at the stove, barking out directions. Suzie and Todd scurried about, laughing as they tried to sweep it up, but only succeeded in creating a cloud of flour dust.

  Janie could tell the second Suzie looked up.

  Her smile faded, Todd glanced back and his hands fell. Only Autumn didn’t notice. She knelt on the floor merrily sweeping the flour into a pile with her hands.

  “Hey. What’s up guys? Why are you stopping?” Then Luke glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

  “What is going on?”

  “An accident.” Luke pointed a metal fork toward her. “Go back and read your magazine.”

  Janie hobbled into the kitchen, ignoring the shooting pains in her ankle. “You can’t wipe up flour with a wet cloth, Todd,” she said. “You’ll turn it into glue. Suzie, you’ve got the wrong broom.”

  “And you’ve got the wrong idea.” Luke put the fork down and walked over to her. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  Janie had to tilt her head back to look at him. He was taller than Owen. Broader than Owen, and for a heartbeat, she felt a slither of fear.

  “Janie. Please. Go sit down.” Luke’s quiet voice and his unexpected “please” combined with the tomato sauce on his shirt and the flour on his pants made the fear slip away. Owen never said “please.” Owen never worked in the kitchen, much less spent time with the children.

  And then he smiled, and her heart skipped again.

  Janie pushed the reaction away as she looked at her kids, who were still watching her as if for further cleaning instructions. Until she had come and started barking orders, they were laughing and having fun.

  And Luke had been the cause of that.

  “It’s okay to let go of control. For one evening,” he said, tilting another smile her way.

  Janie was suddenly bo
ne weary, her shoulders slumping with the weight of her responsibilities.

  “Okay. I’ll leave,” she said, spinning around. But she had misjudged her control over her balance.

  Then she felt his hands on her waist, holding her up and supporting her.

  Thankfully she was facing away from him, and he didn’t see the flush warming her cheeks at his touch. Nor did he see the way her eyes shut as she fought the temptation to simply lean back against him and let him hold her up.

  She had too many tangled and frayed threads in the fabric of her life. The only way to keep them together was to keep moving, keep tying off the ends and hope that someday it would all come together.

  She pushed away from him and slowly made her way back to the couch, fighting the throbbing in her ankle. Once there, she picked up the magazine her mother had given her, sighed and turned to the article about the seven things a single mother should know.

  Number one. Keep your children emotionally safe.

  She’d thought she had that one covered until Luke and his dog entered their lives.

  He’s just helping, that’s all, she reminded herself. Things just worked out the way they did. After tonight, he’s back in his own house.

  She turned her attention back to number two on the list. Take care of yourself.

  Janie shook her head and skimmed over the usual advice about bubble baths and taking time off for the occasional manicure or to read a book.

  Either the woman who wrote this was not a single mother or she was one of those high achievers who penciled relaxation time into her full agenda.

  Janie threw the magazine down, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the noise from the kitchen and the slowly defrosting bag of corn lying on the living-room floor.

  Chapter Nine

  “Thanks for making dinner. It was really tasty.” Janie smiled at her children, who were squirming with pride.

  “Did you like the biscuits?” Todd asked. “Suzie made them.”

  “I used your recipe.” Suzie gave her mother a shy smile, then glanced at Luke sitting across from Janie. “Luke helped me.”

  Though Janie kept her eyes on Suzie, she was fully aware of Luke sitting directly across from her. Having Luke working in the kitchen had been disturbing enough. Seeing him actually seated at the table, in the same place Owen would sit the few times he was home, created a tantalizing possibility…and served as a tangible reminder that men don’t stick around.