The Cowboy's Easter Family Wish. Lois Richer
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dip and Noah could roll. And somewhere in the midst of the laughing and giggling and sneaky licks of a finger, Noah became an ordinary kid making a treat in the kitchen.
When Jesse glanced at Maddie he found her watching him, appreciation shining from the depths of her gorgeous green eyes. He couldn’t look away, but she did, quickly, as if she was embarrassed.
“We’ve used all the marshmallows, so I guess it’s time to clean up, and you need to get ready for bed.” Maddie mussed Noah’s too-perfect hair and pressed a kiss on his head. “How shall we keep these overnight, Jesse?”
“Just leave them. They’ll dry out and firm up a bit. Then you can lay them in a box or container for school tomorrow.” He was embarrassed by his stomach’s loud rumble.
“Didn’t you eat dinner?” Noah paused in his cleanup of the leftover noodle bits.
“I didn’t.” Jesse shrugged. “That’s why I went to the grocery store. It’s Gran’s favorite. When she wasn’t at home, I hoped I’d find her there and that maybe she’d have dinner with me when she was finished shopping. Or maybe make me dinner.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get something to eat on my way back to my campsite.”
“You’re camping?” Noah’s bored look vanished, replaced by excitement.
“Ever since I left Colorado, Ark Man.”
“In a tent? With a campfire? And cookouts?” Awe filled Noah’s voice.
“All of the above,” Jesse agreed.
“Cool.” The word whooshed out of Noah as if he could only imagine such a life.
“It is fun, except when it rains or there are mosquitos. Thankfully, the desert has little of either right now.” Jesse turned to Maddie. “I’ve taken some time away from work to see this country,” he explained.
“What is your work?” she asked.
“I’m—I was a youth pastor.” He could almost feel her draw back when he said the word pastor. “I, ah, needed a break.”
“I see.” Maddie’s face tightened into a mask. She abruptly turned her focus on Noah. “Get ready for bed, please.”
“Eight o’clock is bedtime,” Noah explained with a sigh. “It’s the rule.” He hesitated. “Will I see you again, Jesse?”
“I hope so, Ark Man. I intend to apply for a job at Wranglers Ranch. That’s right next door, your mom says.” He smiled at the boy, but Noah was deep in thought.
“You’re a minister,” he said quietly, then glanced up. “Like my dad was?”
“Not anymore.” Jesse felt funny saying that, as if God had somehow rescinded the call He’d made on his life so many years ago. “For now I’m going to try being a ranch hand.” Until I figure out what God’s doing and what I’m supposed to do.
“My dad said that when you work for God you can’t quit,” Noah said firmly. “He said that God wouldn’t let him quit. He said it was a pastor’s rule.”
“For him, sweetie. It was a rule for him.” Maddie nudged his thin shoulder. “Now thank Jesse for showing us how to make the treats.”
Noah obediently thanked him, but it was clear that though he left without further protest, the question of Jesse’s unemployment was not settled.
“I should get going, too,” he said.
“Please stay and share a cup of tea, maybe a sandwich?” Maddie stood at the counter, hands knotted as if she was nervous. Her black cap of hair gleamed under the lights. “I’m no cook, but I owe you at least that much.”
“You don’t owe me anything. But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea. Or a sandwich,” he added, when his stomach complained again.
“I can do a sandwich.” Maddie’s face looked like the sun had come out, so brilliant was her smile. She put the kettle on, then pulled open the fridge. “What would you like?”
“Anything is fine. Thank you.” He hoped she’d offer a thick slice of roast beef with hot mustard on fresh French bread. Or maybe—
“Is peanut butter okay?” Maddie stood in front of her fridge, clutching an almost empty jar of peanut butter, the same wimpy brand Noah preferred. “I could mix it with honey,” she offered.
“Great.” Jesse sat at the counter and accepted the sandwich when she served it, biting into it with relish, smiling and nodding as he chewed. “It’s good.”
“I should have made you something nice. I wish I could. You deserve it.” She sat one stool away from him, elbows propped on the counter, inhaling the steam from her tea. “Here I have this designer kitchen that most women dream of, and I’m a useless cook.”
That sounded like something someone had called her.
“Why don’t you take cooking lessons?” he asked, after swallowing the sticky mass. “Gran made my mom take them.”
“Really?” Maddie looked as if she’d never heard of such a thing.
“Sure. When my parents lived here there was a cooking school called Alberto’s Mama. That’s where my mom went to learn to cook before she had me.” He grinned. “Gran insisted it was a necessity and my dad was happy to pay when he started tasting Alberto’s Mama’s recipes. Was your husband a cook?” He pretended to ask out of idle curiosity.
Immediately, Maddie went tense. Her fingers tightened around her cup and her cheeks lost the delightful pink that had bloomed there. “Gourmet,” she murmured.
And that only made you feel worse.
Jesse’s heart hurt at the wounded look on her face. “I’m sure you have talents in other areas.”
She laughed, head thrown back, throat bare. It was the way Maddie should always laugh—full-bodied and freely expressing her emotions, Jesse thought. Not like that timid, fearful mouse he’d glimpsed a few moments ago.
“I don’t have many talents, but I can make a pretty good quilt,” she agreed with a cheeky grin, then quickly sobered. “Though some say that’s a pointless and dying art.”
“Since when is giving comfort pointless?” Jesse was angry that someone had so cruelly disparaged her gift. “When I was a kid I used to go with Gran to take her quilts to the cancer ward and to the homeless shelters. People loved her gifts because the quilts made them feel special and cherished, as if they mattered. That feeling is an amazing gift to give someone. It takes real talent. Cooking is just following directions.”
Jesse hadn’t meant to sound off, but when he noticed Maddie’s spine straighten he was glad he had, now certain of his original assessment that someone hadn’t properly valued this woman. He got caught up in speculating who that was, but his thoughts were interrupted by a call from the bedroom.
“Excuse me.” Maddie disappeared into Noah’s room with a smile, but when she emerged moments later her green eyes swirled with uneasiness.
“Everything okay with the Ark Man?” he asked.
“Noah’s fine.” Maddie frowned. “Why do you call him that?”
“Ark Man?” He shrugged. “Noah seems all about formalism, rules, that kind of thing. I’ve found—I used to find,” he corrected, “—that sometimes a nickname helps break through the mask most overly responsible kids wear. I can stop if you want.”
“Please don’t.” There was something about Maddie now—a tightness that echoed the tension on her pretty face. “Noah likes that nickname.”
Jesse couldn’t define the vibe he was getting, but that openness he’d so admired about her earlier had disappeared. He had the impression it had to do with him having been a minister—like her husband.
“Noah