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Sean picked up a tomato. Placing it on the board, he sliced it. He wasn’t about to let on that he didn’t know what he was doing. Cynthia opened the oven and the aroma made his stomach growl. The sooner he had this salad finished, the sooner they could eat. As he continued to chop she set the table.
“Here’s a bowl for that.” Cynthia set a glass one on the counter next to him, then she flitted away again.
“Thanks.” Sean continued to chop. He felt surprisingly comfortable spending time on something as domestic as preparing a meal. It had been so long since he’d been in a home where that was done. Really since he had left his parents as an eighteen-year-old. For some reason he was thinking of them far more often after meeting Cynthia and her brothers.
A few minutes later she asked, “Are you about done there?”
“I didn’t know I had a time limit. Damn!” Sean jerked his hand back. Looking down, he saw blood dripping from the end of his thumb.
Cynthia was at his side instantly. “What’ve you done? Let me see.” She snatched a dish towel off a hook attached to the cabinet. Wrapping her hand around his wrist, she raised it above his heart and covered his thumb with the towel.
His finger throbbed with every beat of his heart and his stomach roiled. This sort of cut was far worse pain-wise than the type he made in surgery.
“You look a little green,” Cynthia said. “Come over here and sit down.” She led him to a chair at the table, still holding his hand in the air.
Sean gladly sat.
“Mark,” Cynthia called, urgency evident in her voice.
Seconds later there was the sound of feet hurrying down the hall. Mark came into the kitchen.
“Get me the first-aid kit out from under the sink in my bath,” she instructed.
“What happened?” he asked, sounding concerned.
She lifted the towel and looked at the thumb. “Sean cut himself. Now go.”
Mark left.
Cynthia turned back to Sean. “I need to look at this and see how bad it is. You may need stitches.”
Sean winced as she finished removing the rag and air hit the wound. He watched her face as she studied his thumb. Her nose wrinkled up and her lips drew into a tight line. “Who would have thought a surgeon wouldn’t be able to handle a knife?” There was a note of humor in her tone but she said it with a straight face.
That remark didn’t make him feel any better. “Is that your best bedside manner?”
She recovered his finger and looked at him, saying sweetly, “I’m sorry. Does it hurt terribly?”
His look met hers. “Actually, at the risk of sounding less than manly, it does.”
“I’m sorry.” Compassion covered her face and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get you cleaned up and you should be fine. It’s not too deep or long.” Her attention turned to Mark as he put the first-aid box on the table then left. “Thanks,” she called. To Sean she said, “I want you to apply pressure here while I wet some gauze to clean you up.”
“You do realize I’m a doctor, don’t you?” At least with her so close he was starting to think about other things than the throbbing of his thumb.
“Right now you’re my patient.” She opened the box and pulled out a couple of packages of square gauze. Tearing the paper, she removed them, dropping the covering on the table. “Come over to the sink.” She moved there and ran water over the gauze. He joined her. She handed him the square that had been folded in half. “You hold this.”
Sean took it and watched as she removed the towel. Carefully she cleaned around the injury.
“At least it doesn’t require stitches.” She sounded satisfied. “I’ll disinfect it and bandage it well. You should be fine.” Cynthia met his look. “This won’t prevent you from doing surgery, will it?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not scheduled until the day after tomorrow and it should be healing well by then.”
“Good.” She truly seemed relieved. “I’d hate for you to have to move your surgery schedule around because I had you making a salad. Put that gauze over the opening and go back to the table. I’m going to get the roast out so we don’t have a fire on top of a cut hand. I’ll cover that in just a sec.”
Sean returned to his chair, glad his stomach had settled. He was embarrassed enough; if he’d passed out it would’ve been worse. He didn’t mind other people’s blood but had never liked the sight of his own.
Cynthia was beside him seconds later. Using a Betadine swab, she cleaned around the cut, applied an antibacterial ointment and placed a clean gauze pad over the area and taped it.
Impressed, he remarked, “You’re really quite good at this. When do you plan to return to school? Good nurses are always needed.”
“I’ve got to see the boys get through school and are on their way.” She didn’t slow down as she spoke.
Sean looked at the top of her head in disbelief. “Boys? They’re young men, you know. I think you underestimate them.”
“You don’t understand.” By her tone she was firmly dismissing the subject.
He didn’t understand. It was as if she was hiding behind her brothers. Didn’t want to move on. Wasn’t accepting her parents had died. That her brothers were growing out of needing her attention all the time. That she had a life too that she should be living.
Cynthia cleaned up the first-aid kit and pushed it aside. She smiled at him. “Now, if you’re through creating pre-dinner drama I’ll get our food on the table.”
Sean smiled weakly. “Please don’t let me stand in the way. I’m hungry and that roast smells wonderful. I’ll finish the salad.”
She put a hand on his shoulder when he started to stand. “You stay right there. I’ll do it. By the way, I saw that green look on your face. Was that the look of a surgeon who doesn’t like the sight of blood?”
“Thanks for making an already embarrassing situation even more so,” he grumbled. “Actually other people’s blood doesn’t bother me, just my own.”
She grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Cyn, when are we going to eat?” Rick asked from the doorway.
“In just a few minutes. Help me get everything on the table,” Cynthia said without slowing her movements.
Just minutes later Mark joined them. “How’s the finger?”
“I’ll live,” Sean said as he turned in his chair and put his leg beneath the table. He wouldn’t admit that it was still throbbing.
Rick came to sit beside him. Mark helped put bowls of food on the table and took a chair, leaving the one closest to Sean for Cynthia. Soon she slipped into it.
Sean didn’t want to count the number of years it had been since he’d sat at a kitchen table and had a family meal. Cynthia said a short prayer then said to him, “Hand me your plate and I’ll serve you. It’s too hot and heavy to pass.”
Cynthia filled his plate with meat, potatoes, carrots and onions and handed the plate back to him. She did the same for her brothers.
“Rick, pass that corn around.” She picked up the rolls and offered them to Sean.
He took one and passed the dish along. Not until everyone had a full plate did Cynthia pick up her fork and start eating. Was she always seeing about everyone else? Sean had never seen a less self-centered person.
Sean couldn’t believe how wonderful the tender roast tasted as well as the other food. Despite his earlier stomach distress, he loved the meal. He’d been missing a part of life he hadn’t realized he’d lost. “Mmm. This is the best.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you think so.” Cynthia smiled at him. “The meat came from an internet mail-order company. I think it’s excellent quality. I have a friend who sells it. She wants me to join the company. To make money or get free products all I have to do is to get others to join. That shouldn’t be too hard
. The product sells itself.”
Sean flinched and almost choked on his food. Where had he heard those words before? They sounded suspiciously like something his parents would be involved in. Just another get-rich-quick scheme. He didn’t want to have anything to do with that type of thing. Or someone who was doing it. He worked to keep his voice even. How was he going to comment? He couldn’t say: why would you want to do that? He settled on, “I’m not a fan of those types of deals.”
Cynthia gave him an inquiring look. “Why’s that?”
“Because they often don’t pan out as advertised. It also takes time to get people to join. I would think you have enough going on.”
“If the money was good I would make time. I think it’d be easy enough to sell. The food is good.” Cynthia took a forkful of corn. “Would you like to be my first customer?” She looked at him. “Sign up under me?”
How was he going to answer that question nicely? There was no way he would get involved even for her. “No, thank you. I don’t eat at home enough to make it worth my while.”
“I guess your lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to cooking much.”
Somehow that made him sound sort of sad. “Maybe what I need to do is just come here more often.” Sean smiled at her, then her brothers.
She looked directly at him. “Maybe we can work something out.”
Sean glanced at her brothers to find them grinning and elbowing each other. They were enjoying his and Cynthia’s exchange. “So, Rick, how’s the basketball going?”
The teen almost choked on his drink he had just picked up. “Pretty good. I think we have a real chance to make the playoffs this year.”
“That sounds great. And have you seen Ann Marie?” Sean asked.
Rick’s face took on a red tint before he looked down at his plate.
