A Family of Their Own. Gail Gaymer Martin
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rifled down Kelsey’s spine. She pressed her lips together and gathered her wits. “Can you carve a pork roast?”
“Sure can. Let me show you what I can do.”
Kelsey already knew what he could do to her emotions, and she wasn’t ready for that. She hoped he was as deft cutting a roast.
Ross leaned back in his chair, barraged by multiple conversations surging around the dining-room table. But he wasn’t really listening. He’d been able to cover his addled thoughts as he and Kelsey worked in the kitchen for a few short minutes before Mrs. Carlson followed them to take over her job as chef for the celebration dinner.
Meeting Kelsey in person tossed his original concept out the window. He’d pictured her as a nose-in-the-air woman who ruled the Mothers of Special Kids with an iron hand, but he’d been very mistaken. He’d witnessed her uneasy apology attempts and realized that she’d tried to be fair by putting it to a vote.
What did bother him was the women’s attitude about men. Stereotypical attitude, he could add. Yes, some men couldn’t talk about their feelings. Some wanted to take care of things and not deal with emotions. But he’d learned that emotions were real whether he wanted to feel them or not, and when it came to his daughter, the pain of her struggle wrenched his heart. Why would mothers assume that fathers didn’t hurt and didn’t wrestle with decisions?
But today wasn’t the day to deal with that issue. Maybe no day was right. He had questions for Kelsey, but they were more personal. How was her daughter’s health now? Ethan had told him once that her daughter had a brain tumor, but what kind of tumor? Where was Kelsey’s husband? Gone, yes. She’d mentioned being alone, but had he died or walked out on her? Had the tension of their daughter’s illness caused the rift?
He sounded like a detective, and it unsettled him. Instead of brooding, Ross forced his mind to focus on the ensuing conversation about the upcoming Super Bowl. As he listened and tossed in a comment here and there, Kelsey’s presence invaded his space. Her sweet fragrance filtered past before being covered by the yeasty dinner rolls and succulent pork roast.
“Excuse me, please.”
Kelsey’s voice swept past him, and he gazed at her.
“I need to check on Lucy.” She pushed back her chair.
Concerned, Ross shifted and rose. “Is she okay?” He drew her chair aside so she could rise.
Kelsey stood, her body close to his. “She’s fine. My sitter isn’t the usual one I hire, so I’m always cautious.” She slipped past him, and he watched her slide a door aside behind them and enter a room.
He stood a moment, wondering if he should stand until she returned or settle back in his chair again. The time stretched, and his concern rose. Not comfortable nosing into her business, yet not at ease ignoring her absence, he strode toward the door, but as he approached, it slid open and Kelsey stepped out. A questioning look spread across her face.
His mind slowed down, and he could only mumble. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
A grin replaced her uncertainty. “You’re as bad as I am.”
He shrugged. “Not bad really. Alert.”
“So you’re a worrier, too.” She tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Should we help clear the dishes?”
“That’s a plan.” He followed her around the table, removing the soiled china and silverware. Though Mrs. Carlson offered to help, Kelsey suggested that she enjoy the company while they took care of the dishes.
Ross rinsed while Kelsey loaded the dishwasher, and as they worked, he caught her eyeing him on occasion as if she were weighing her feelings about him. When he was about to be blunt and ask, she closed the dishwasher door and rested her hip against the countertop. “Are you always this nice?”
The question caught him off guard. “You mean am I always helpful?”
“Nice. Helpful. I suppose they go hand in hand.”
He grinned, still wondering what had brought on that question. “I try to be. How about you?”
Her eyes widened as if surprised at his directness. “I try to calm storms, but sometimes I create new waves. I think being a peacemaker is a good attribute, but I don’t know other people’s take on me.”
He’d expected a playful response. Instead he’d gotten a truthful answer. Earlier when they talked, he’d witnessed her penchant for making peace when she’d offered to bring his name up before the MOSK organization again. “I suppose we never know what people think.” He turned off the tap water and rested against the countertop beside her. “I’d like to hear about Lucy.” Seeing her expression, he’d surprised her again.
“We’ve been very blessed. Lucy’s been in remission now for nearly a year, and I’m hopeful the last surgery was the end.”
“Last surgery?”
“Yes, over the past few years, she had multiple surgeries for brain tumors and—”
“Multiple tumors? I didn’t know.” His chest tightened.
“Are they—”
“Benign.”
The constriction in his chest eased, and he inhaled. “That’s a relief.”
She nodded, but no joy brightened her face. “The problem is the damage each surgery can cause. I fear that a tumor will infiltrate a major part of the brain that will make …” She closed her eyes.
Ross drew closer and rested his hand on her arm. “You’ve gone through a lot, Kelsey. Any type of tumor is awful.”
When she opened her eyes, his tenderness greeted her.
“Thanks. We’re so blessed to have things go this way. I wish it could happen to every sick child.” So did he.
He hadn’t meant for the conversation to take a dark turn. “You know Ethan’s involved with the Dreams Come True Foundation,” he noted.
Her eyes met his. “Yes.” She chuckled. “That’s where Lexie met Ethan. He did a presentation at our MOSK meeting.”
“I suppose I’d heard that.” Naturally she knew. He shrugged. “Since Lucy is doing so well, have you ever thought of letting her have a dream come true?”
Her smile faded and she flicked a shoulder. “I suppose I’m silly, but it seems like tempting fate.”
“Tempting fate?”
“Like taking her health for granted. I’ve always felt having her well is dream enough.”
He didn’t know how to respond. She seemed too positive to step into such a dark thought. Silence smothered conversation.
“Ross.”
His heart kicked.
“Tell me about Peyton.” Interest brightened the mood.
Peyton. Even her name grabbed at his emotions. She’d been through so much. Kelsey would understand, but he wrestled with the ability to speak.
This time Kelsey touched his arm. “Another time, Ross. I didn’t mean to hit you with that question today.”
The reprieve relieved him. Talking about Peyton homed in on so many things that hurt. A wedding celebration didn’t seem like an appropriate place to open up those wounds. But she’d suggested another time, and the idea gave him hope.
“I’d like that.”
A frown settled on her face. “You’d like what?”
“To talk another time.” Making a date with a woman arose like a vague memory. “Maybe dinner sometime?”
An unreadable expression flashed across her face.
“With the