Her Wedding Wish. Jillian Hart
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piece. “You’re going to spoil your appetite.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dad was smiling as he tore a paper towel from the dispenser and held it to use in place of a plate. “No one anywhere makes a better brownie than you. You even got Ava beat.”
One of her younger sisters, Ava, was a professional baker. A high compliment, but one she’d heard before. Plus, Dad was generous with compliments. She kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you go put up your feet? If you don’t want to disturb Jonas, you can use the TV either in the basement or in our room.”
“No, I don’t mind bothering Jonas.” Dad winked as he strode out of sight. The faint rumble of his voice in the living room told her that Jonas must have woken up.
When she peered around the corner to check on him, he had straightened up on the couch. Now sitting up, he was sleepy-looking and pale, but he seemed glad of the company. That had to be a good sign, right? She worried about the evening ahead. Her family—bless them—had dearly wanted to see Jonas again. But was he up to so much at once?
Well, they would find out. She hoped so. She wanted him to see that he wasn’t as alone as he had to feel. She leaned her shoulder against the archway to watch as Jonas talked with her father, someone else he didn’t remember. But within moments they were both smiling and talking like old friends.
Great. She blew out a breath of relief and went back to her carrots. The men’s voices rumbled pleasantly as she finished peeling and dug the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator.
The house was relatively quiet without the little ones—Mom had taken them with her on her grocery run. She missed Tyler’s constant motion and Madison’s constant chatter underfoot. And thinking of the kids made her remember how it used to be—how Jonas would always hang around the kitchen and help her, grazing on whatever was handy to snack on.
Hard to imagine, since Jonas and her dad had once been close.
There was a knock at the front door, a few quick, no-nonsense raps and then a key turned in the lock. Spence, the oldest of the clan, poked his head in. “Hit the garage door opener for me, would ya? I’ll get the front yard mowed before Dad thinks of it.”
“Thank you, Spence.”
“Don’t mention it.” He shut the door firmly.
The oven timer chose that moment to beep. She hit the off button, snagged an oven mitt from the closest drawer. She knelt to lift the casserole pot of baked beans from the oven and onto a trivet on the counter. While she heard Dad and Jonas talking, she tried not to focus on her husband’s halting words—that halting was worse when he was tired, she’d learned. She ached for him.
This was not fair. She had to lay aside her anger at the desperate gunman who had fired that shot. Jonas hadn’t deserved that, and yet it had happened just the same. She rushed around to the inside garage door and caught sight of him on the couch—struggling to find the right words while Dad waited patiently.
No, she thought, her heart heavy. This was not fair. Surely there was some good that would come out of this—some good the Lord would find in all this hardship. But for the life of her Danielle couldn’t figure out what. She yanked open the inside door and hit the button.
The churn of the opener’s engine drowned out the sound of her husband’s voice. As the door lifted, there was Spence, in T-shirt and denims, storming into the garage like a hulk. His grimace was hardly a grimace at all, which meant he must be in a very good mood. He grabbed the lawn mower and wheeled it out into the driveway. The roar of the engine coming to life echoed in the garage.
Talk about a reliable guy. Danielle loved her brother. She couldn’t have a better one—or a better family, and she thanked the Lord for them every day. She’d just hoped there would be less need for their help after Jonas’s homecoming. They’d done so much. They had to be exhausted, too.
She heard the air conditioner click on and felt the swirl of cooled air against her ankles and shut the door, leaving it unlocked so Spence could find his way in after his mowing. She remembered the kitchen work awaiting her. She wanted to get it done so that her mom didn’t have any choice; she couldn’t help with dinner because it would already be done. Mom had done more than her share already.
It was Jonas’s voice, low and sonorous, that made her stop halfway to the kitchen. Seeing him so changed still hit her hard every time.
“Is that right, John? Yellowstone, you say?”
“Yep,” Dad was saying. Always brief on words but long on heart. “You said the RV drove real fine. Yep, real fine.”
“I’m sure it did. Don’t remember it.”
“Well, it did.”
Jonas noticed her standing there and it was hard to tell by the look on his face if he was glad to see her or not. When he looked at her, he had to feel more pressure to remember. And that was the last thing she wanted. He had pressure enough.
“Dani.” Dad turned in the chair and winked at her. “I’m gonna take Jonas with me.”
“What? Where?” Jonas looked confused. Maybe a little panicked.
He might not remember that she was always on his side. That she would never forsake him, even when it came to her own family. “Dad, Jonas might not be up to working with tools yet.”
“Tools?” Jonas’s eyes widened in surprise.
He could not know that it was a family thing, he and Dad and Spence, always eager to fix what was broken. He would not remember how it used to be, that when Dad assumed Jonas’s help in all kinds of family construction projects, Jonas would find a moment to come up to her and lean close so that only she could hear. He would say in that affable way of his, “I don’t remember getting my draft notice.”
No, Jonas did not have any idea how they would chuckle quietly together before he would go off to help her dad.
Now, Jonas seemed uncertain, but when he looked down at his hands she realized why. After so much nerve damage, he could not handle carpenter tools. What could she do to reassure him? “Dad, you give Jonas a rest on this one. He’s recuperating. He can watch if he wants to and keep you company, but it might be better if he rests.”
“Yep. Gotcha.” Dad nodded once and rose to his feet as if that were settled. “Well, what do you say, Jonas? You want to come keep an eye on me?”
“You need it.” Humor glinted in his hazel eyes, and his lopsided grin could not be dearer.
Danielle felt hope buoy her. “I’ll bring back some tea for both of you.”
“Thanks, missy.” Dad scooted Jonas’s walker closer within reach. “C’mon, son, we’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Jonas struggled to his feet and winked at her over the top of her dad’s head.
Danielle practically floated to the kitchen, full of gratitude that her whole family was together again.
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