job? Still, she had to feel inadequate. She didn’t cook or bake and she’d never really learned to run a household. To make matters worse, you had an expectation that your wife would be like me, at least in the homemaking department. I was too old-fashioned that way.”
Del hadn’t thought there were any more surprises left regarding the situation between himself and Josie, but he’d been wrong.
“Mom, I-”
“You don’t have to say anything,” she told him, cutting him off. “I can’t change what I did while you were growing up. I love you and your father. Taking care of you both was my way of showing that love. So except for how it affected your marriage, I don’t have any regrets. But Josie was so different. I think she wanted to try, but she didn’t know how. I could have helped more, but I didn’t. I was sad as I watched your relationship falter, and I didn’t know how to make it better.”
“That wasn’t your responsibility.”
“I know, but every mother wants to protect her children from their own mistakes. Unfortunately, children need to learn on their own.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of all his mother had told him. There had been more forces at work while he and Josie had been married then he’d realized. The question was, what did he do with the information now?
After Annie May left, Josie tried to take a nap, but her brain wouldn’t shut down enough for her to sleep. Dozens of thoughts and ideas circled through her mind. She tried to absorb all that had happened.
Of course she was upset about Jasmine’s visit, but she told herself she was really dumb if she thought that Del had been a monk for the three years they’d been divorced. Obviously he’d dated. But as Annie May had pointed out-he hadn’t fallen in love. There had been no serious relationships, which was good for her.
She also thought about what her friend had said about her, Josie, still having the key to Del’s heart. She wanted that to be true, but she wasn’t sure. She was slowly coming to believe that she wasn’t the only one at fault in the marriage. Unfortunately, if they were both to blame, it would also take both of them to fix the problems. And she wasn’t sure Del would want to participate in that. She wasn’t sure about anything where he was concerned.
“A grown-up would come right out and ask,” she told herself, speaking aloud into the quiet of the room. Unfortunately, she wasn’t feeling especially mature at this moment. Maybe an alternative would be to test the waters in more tentative ways, so she could feel safer during the process.
She closed her eyes and found herself remembering all the fights they had about her cooking…or rather her refusal to cook. For Del, coming home to a freshly cooked meal had meant a lot. But she’d resisted right up to the end. She would cook, but only when he was there to help.
She turned on her side as she remembered that his favorite was lasagna. Catherine had shared a recipe with her once. It was supposed to be one that he really liked and, according to her then mother-in-law, relatively easy. She’d tucked the paper into a cookbook. Josie sat up. She would bet money that cookbook was sitting right above the small desk in the kitchen and that the recipe was still inside. She could make that for Del tonight, as a surprise.
Then she glanced down at her legs. She wasn’t allowed to drive. Nor was a wheelchair easy to maneuver in a grocery store.
“Delivery,” she said with a grin.
She would make up a shopping list and call in the order. Then she would get started with her surprise dinner.
Chapter Twelve
Three more crises had followed his mother’s phone call, which meant Del didn’t pull into his driveway until after five that afternoon. He sat in his truck and wondered what he was supposed to say to Josie. Bad enough that Jasmine came by the house, but worse that Josie had been there to witness it. Plus, Jasmine had had a key in her possession. What would Josie think about that?
He shook his head. He knew exactly what she would think-what anyone would think. That he and Jasmine were close enough to be physically intimate and coming and going freely in each other’s homes. Which might have been true at one time, but wasn’t anymore.
Guilt made him not want to go inside. He tried reminding himself that he and Josie had been divorced for three years and what he did in his free time wasn’t her business. He almost believed it, too. But not quite. Something had happened when he’d brought Josie home with him. Not so much an emotional connection between them as an unspoken agreement about responsibility. He hated that Jasmine might have said some pretty cruel things to Josie. He wanted to apologize for them but wasn’t sure if mentioning them would make the situation better or worse.
After a couple of minutes he reminded himself that acting like a coward got nothing accomplished. He stepped out of the truck cab and headed for the front door. As he used his key to let himself in, he half expected something to come flying at his head. Josie wasn’t violent by nature but she could be a little aggressive when provoked.
But she wasn’t there to greet him. In fact the house was surprisingly quiet. There weren’t even any lights on anywhere. His chest tightened with the realization that something might be wrong. Or she could have left him.
“Josie?” he called anxiously.
“Oh, hi. I’m back in the kitchen. But I have to warn you to be careful where you step.”
She didn’t sound mad. In fact, he couldn’t place the tone of her voice. Not angry, not even upset. If anything she sounded rueful. Which didn’t make sense.
He headed for the back of the house and rounded the corner to head into the kitchen. He came to a stop as abruptly as if he’d run into a wall. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the disaster that was his state-of-the-art kitchen.
“Josie?”
She looked up at him and shrugged her shoulders. “I want to tell you that it looks worse than it is, but it’s pretty bad. The thing is, I didn’t do it on purpose.”
She sat in the center of the kitchen floor. Her light-blue dress had several red stains on the front, and there were a couple of dark smudges on her cheek. Behind her two pots sat half on, half off the stove. The scent of something burning filled the air. A jar of spice had tipped onto the counter and trailed down to the floor. A heavy stock pot lay next to her. Water pooled around her, while limp lasagna noodles oozed toward him in a slow-moving river. Her wheelchair looked as if it had been in a food fight. It leaned precariously against the pantry cupboard.
She made a vague gesture toward the mess. “Sorry.”
He couldn’t believe it. “What were you doing?”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “Cooking. Or at least trying to. I remembered that lasagna was your favorite. I had this recipe your mom gave me years ago, so I dug it out and decided to make it. Except the counters and stove are too high and I was afraid to be on my feet too much. Things got out of control really fast. I stood a couple of times, then I lost my balance and slipped, which explains the noodles on the floor. That’s about when you walked in. So would you please help me up?”
Nothing she said made sense. She’d been cooking? For him? Why?
“Where’d you find the recipe? You couldn’t have been carrying one around with you all this time.”
“I’d tucked it into one of the cookbooks.” She pointed to an open book on the counter. “It was still there. Um, Del? I’d really like to get off the floor.”
“What? Oh, sure. Sorry.”
He moved toward her, then bent down to collect her in his arms. As he gathered her close, her hair brushed against his cheek. The soft sweep of waves smelled delightfully floral. Her body was warm and curvy, fitting perfectly against his. Suddenly he didn’t want to carry her just to a kitchen chair. Instead he wanted to make the journey to his bedroom at the end of the hall. A bedroom she’d once shared with him. He wanted to place her on the mattress and carefully undress her. Then he wanted to make love with her, touching her everywhere, kissing her, tasting her, bringing her pleasure until she was lost to everything but the feel of him against her. Until she was
