He leaned over her shoulder. “That’s good.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s the one.”
She nodded and let out a deeper breath of relief than he’d expected. “Good.”
It would have been easy to put his arm around her, to pull her closer and tell her not to worry, that anything she did would be great. But he couldn’t do that and risk what he already had with her.
“You nervous?” he asked.
She shrugged, brushing her hair back. “Well, you know, Son of God, King of kings, hallelujah, and everything. It’s a lot of pressure.” She glanced at him like she was kidding, but he sensed otherwise. “Not to mention I’m doing this for a family who lost an awful lot and deserves something that reminds them of better things.”
He watched her a moment as she began sketching out more of the image, biting her lip in concentration.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded.
“So,” he said, tapping the new sketch. “What is this one thinking?”
A small smile came to her lips as she studied the baby. “He’s not quite warm enough.”
He chuckled lightly, and her smile widened.
“I think he just hopes to be loved,” she said. “Like everybody else.”
Mark sobered and let the quiet surround them a few moments. Nothing but the pop and hiss of the fire. “I think you’ve got that right,” he finally said. Then, in an unplanned move, he smoothed his hand over her hair. It was soft, the waves like silk under his skin. His heart played a hard rhythm beneath his ribs.
Time to go.
She blinked as he stood. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I’ve still got stuff to do, and I’m beat. I’m glad you called, though.”
She stood. “Thanks for your help.” She gestured to the fire. “With everything.”
“Not a problem. Make sure it’s completely out before you turn in.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
They faced each other for another moment, then he headed for the door. He stopped and turned back. “I know you didn’t have the best time tonight with Gainer.”
She waved her hand. “Nothing a little hot chocolate and some focused painting won’t fix.” She looked away, and he again wondered what exactly had happened.
“I know I’ve asked you for a lot of help,” he said, “but I got a call this afternoon, and . . . I was wondering if you’d consider playing hooky with me on Friday.”
Her eyes grew large. “Play hooky?”
“Yeah, you know where you pretend you’re sick and skip school—”
“I know what hooky is.” She folded her arms.
He grinned. “So you’ll come?”
“For what?”
“I told you. I need help with something. It’s for a friend over in Wenatchee.”
“What will we be doing?”
He knew why she asked. Dalton had sprung Christmas town on her. “It’s nothing to do with the holidays.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what it is, then?”
He hesitated. “Because if I told you, you’d think it was the most boring thing on the planet and you wouldn’t come. And I could really use your help. Call it volunteer work. Please?”
She scrutinized him. “You make it sound so magical,” she teased. “I’ll call in a personal day. Do I need to wear muck boots or anything like that?”
He grinned. “I don’t think so. But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to wear those killer boots from earlier—”
She gave him a push to the door. “Never mind. Out.”
“But—”
“Out. Good night.” She opened the door and continued to push, which was useless because he only moved when he stepped back himself.
“Friday morning. Nine thirty,” he said.
She hid her smile, but not very well. “I’ll see you then.”
He’d backed out to the porch. “Maybe you could wear the skirt, too—”
She closed the door on him.
His smile remained.
The silver minivan pulled up in front of the Riverses’ house, and Mark stepped out to meet it. Stephanie got out and opened the side door. She grabbed the covered infant car seat with baby Mark inside.
“Hey, help me with the groceries, will you?” she asked.
“That’s what I’m here for.” Mark hefted a large box in his arms along with a bag of onions.
“Don’t keep the onions in the garage,” she said, walking ahead of him into the house. “They’ll freeze and turn to mush.”
“Understood.” He set the box down on the counter next to her bags, then set the bag of onions on top of the fridge.
She threw him a look. “No.”
“What’s wrong with the top of the fridge?” he asked.
She pulled the bag down. “The bag is mesh and onion skins are dry and crackly. Anytime you move it, onion skins will flake down the front of the fridge.” She opened the broom closet and put the bag on the floor.
He peeked under the baby tent on the floor. Baby Mark seemed to sleep ninety percent of the time. “What are you feeding this kid?”
“Breast milk. Dramamine.”
He dropped the cover, looking back at her. “Really?”
“No, not really. You don’t give a baby Dramamine. Come on, EMT, we’ve got frozen stuff to bring in.”
He rolled his eyes and followed her back out to the car. This time they detoured through the garage, stopping at the freezer.
“You know,” Mark said, “you don’t have to keep doing this.”
She tossed a package of frozen burritos onto a shelf. “It’s no big deal to pick up extra for you and Dad when I do the big shopping.”
Stephanie’s “big shopping” meant driving to Costco in Wenatchee once a month to stock up on diapers and toilet paper. And a whole case of hash browns, apparently.
“We won’t eat all this,” he said.
“You don’t need to eat all of it. Some of it’s mine. I need the extra freezer space.” She pushed the freezer door shut against a huge bag of chicken. “There. Now, help me with the stuff that goes in the refrigerator.”
“I can do this, Steph,” he said, following her back into the house. “I don’t mean just putting things away. I mean the shopping.”
“Good. Next time, I’ll take you with me, and you can learn what to get.”
He picked
