Wanted: A Real Family. Karen Smith Rose
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had poured every waking moment into making Raintree the most successful vineyard in California. There had been no time for women or their machinations.
He grabbed a pair of clean jeans from the closet and dressed. The problem was—he didn’t categorize Sara with other women. Because of her, he had full use of his shoulder. Because of her, his strength had slowly returned, his muscle tone had increased and his attitude about his life had done a one-eighty.
Honesty made him admit he’d been attracted to her when he’d been her patient, but he’d seen that ring on her finger. He’d heard her tenderly talk about her two-year-old daughter. He would have never messed with that.
The devil on his shoulder seemed to whisper, She’s a widow now.
Maybe so. But she was a homeless, vulnerable widow and he’d never take advantage of that. Besides, he’d given up on white picket fences and vows that lasted forever. Nothing good lasted forever—not in his experience. And the truth of it was he didn’t believe he could ever trust a woman again.
Had he made the right decision asking Sara to Raintree? His father was on edge. And Jase himself wasn’t sure how this situation would play out.
It was temporary. It would play out … and life as he’d come to know it would go on.
Grateful didn’t even begin to describe how Sara felt as Jase helped one of The Mommy Club volunteers carry a sofa in a pretty mauve-and-green-flowered slipcover into the cottage. This was moving day. She still didn’t know if she’d made the right decision coming to Raintree Winery, but watching Amy coloring under a live oak, the sun-dappled blanket around her, she was surer today than she had been for the past week.
Jase stood in the doorway and beckoned to her. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. His broad shoulders filled the space and she couldn’t see behind him. He’d been careful this morning not to get too close. She’d been careful about proximity, too.
When Sara glanced toward Amy, Jase assured her, “She’s fine. She knows exactly where you are.” He motioned to his assistant, Marissa, who was dropping another pack of markers beside Amy. “Will you keep an eye on her?” he called.
Marissa smiled and nodded.
“Marissa’s the one who knew all about The Mommy Club and gave me Kaitlyn’s number. Apparently the organization helped her when she was pregnant.”
Then, glancing inside the cottage, he changed the subject back to the situation at hand. “You need to tell us which wall would be the best backing for the sofa.”
Sara hadn’t seen Jase since the day she’d visited Raintree to decide about the cottage. She’d spoken to him on the phone a few times to make arrangements for today, and each time, the sound of his voice had lingered long after the call.
She glanced up at the hummingbird feeder he’d hung on the porch and had to smile. When he stood aside to let her enter, she was aware of his aftershave and trying not to be.
The sofa sat crosswise in the living room. Her attention was focused more on Jase than on the furniture. Still, she eyed the space instead of his gray eyes.
“Let’s not put it against a wall,” she said. “Let’s move it in front of the fireplace. Amy and I can curl up there on cool nights. We can put that wing chair by the window and Amy can watch TV from there.”
“Don’t you watch TV?”
“Not so much. If I do settle down on the sofa at night after Amy goes to bed, I usually conk out.” Or she sat in the silence and worried about how she was going to pay the bills. But Jase didn’t need to know that. If she confided in him about Conrad and about the debts, she’d be opening the door to confidences she didn’t know she was ready to share … didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for again.
Steering the subject away from her personal life, Sara commented, “I wonder where all this furniture came from. If it was used, it’s been repainted and repaired like new.”
“I did a little digging and found out there are a lot of guardian angels in The Mommy Club, from someone depositing funds in a never-ending account, to all the volunteers who lend a helping hand.”
Kaitlyn Foster slipped into the small cottage. She was a striking woman, with blond hair and green eyes, who could make any woman envious of her. But her personality as a compassionate pediatrician was as striking as her good looks. That compassion seemed to extend to all areas of her life. She’d been so kind to Sara after the fire and so good with Amy.
Now she was carrying a small bedside lamp in pink and white, perfect for a little girl’s room. “I just have to plug this in and Amy’s room is ready. The sheets are on the bed if you want to make it.”
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay The Mommy Club. Is there anything I can do to help kids or a family who needs it?”
Kaitlyn said, “We have a food drive coming up, as well as a summer program for kids and parents. We provide lunches and food baskets for families who are down on their luck and kids who are hungry. All of it makes a difference. Even if lunch is just a sandwich with an apple, the kids act like it’s a gourmet meal. We can always use help. After you get settled in, we can talk about it more.”
Jase suddenly said, “I’d like to help, too.”
Both women stared at him.
“What? A man can’t help The Mommy Club? I can donate funds and a little time. Sure, I’m as busy as the next guy, but helping kids—that used to be my life’s goal.”
Again some of the pictures Jase had taken and stories he’d written ran through Sara’s mind. She knew precisely what had happened to change his life’s goal. What exactly was his goal now? Did he miss his old life?
After Kaitlyn said again she’d be in touch about the food drive and headed toward Amy’s room, Jase moved away from Sara, took one end of the sofa and pushed it where she wanted it in front of the fireplace. “How’s that?”
“Perfect. If you ever tire of making wine, you can move furniture,” she joked.
He gazed straight out the window to the winery. When his gaze met hers again, she thought she saw a bit of longing in his eyes. Just what did Jase Cramer long for?
He studied her and then came closer, his voice low and a bit husky. He said, “The only reason I can push that sofa around is the physical therapy you gave me.”
“Jase—”
“Don’t tell me it isn’t so.”
“Any therapist who took you on as a patient could have strengthened your arm and shoulder and put you on an exercise regimen to make you healthy again.”
“I don’t know if I believe that. It was your caring and your positive outlook that made me see I could have a future here, that photojournalism wasn’t the be-all and end-all. You provided more than physical therapy, Sara. I imagine you do with all your patients.”
She felt herself blushing, a condition she’d had since childhood that affected her when she was nervous or upset. Now she was neither of them, but she was blushing anyway.
As she looked into Jase’s face and saw he really meant what he said, her heart raced. At the V-neck of his T-shirt, black hair curled against his tan skin. She remembered the scars on his shoulder, the line across his stomach where bullets had almost been the death of him. A field doctor at the refugee camp had done emergency surgery and saved his life under awful conditions. Yes, Jase was lucky to be alive. She knew what the experience had cost him—the notes were in his medical records.
Amy suddenly came running in and wrapped her arms around Sara’s legs. It was a relief to take her attention away from Jase and give it to her daughter. Her first and foremost concern always had to be Amy. “What’s up, Bitsy Bug?”
“I’m not a bitsy bug. I’m Amy.”
Sara hugged her