“There is that,” John conceded.
“What am I saying? You ran into bullets being fired and here I am fretting over my five-year-old wanting to grow up to be a firefighter.” She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his upper left arm, making sure to line the arrow up with his artery. “You probably think I’m silly worrying about such things.”
He shook his head. “Nothing wrong with worrying about your son. It just means that you love him.”
“That I do. With all my heart.”
The old man smiled. “A mother’s love is precious.”
“Tell me about your mother,” she prompted after she’d finished taking his blood pressure, glad to see normal numbers, and wanting to keep him talking. “What was she like?”
Memories obviously flooded him as his eyes shined and a smile toyed on his lips. “She was a tough old bird.”
“So that’s where you get it,” she accused, smiling.
He laughed. “It’s been a few decades since anyone found me tough.”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine that’s true. I’ve watched you during your therapy. You’re tough, John.” She could tell her words pleased him. “Way tougher than I’ll ever be, for sure.”
His old blue eyes met hers. “You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”
Surprised and touched by his comment, Morgan looked at him curiously. “What makes you say that?”
Although she talked with him a lot, even opting a few times to take her lunch break while sitting in his room and chatting while she ate, she’d only told him highlights of the past couple of years of her life. She didn’t see how he’d concluded from that that she was tough. Her insides were pure mush and most of the time she felt like a silly worrywart.
“Some things a man just knows when he meets a woman.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.” A bushy white brow rose. “Now, I know I’m old, but I’m not so senile as to miss that you haven’t answered my question.”
But she was apparently senile enough to have forgotten what he’d asked. “Which question was that?”
“What, or who, was responsible for the humming? Not that you’re not always a smiley little thing, but there was an extra little glimmer in your eyes when you walked in here today, and I’m not buying that seeing this old face was responsible.”
Morgan wanted to hug him. She was delighted that he’d called her a smiley little thing when, not so long ago, finding smiles outside of Greyson had seemed impossible.
“For the record, seeing your ‘old face’ does make me smile. But to answer your question...” She shrugged. “Life is finally starting to feel normal again. Moving to Pine Hill was a good decision for me and Greyson. I always enjoyed visiting my grandparents, but living here, well, it feels as if I belong.”
“Nothing like the feeling of coming home to Pine Hill,” he mused, apparently thinking back to when he’d come home himself after his time in the service. “But your answer is boring.”
Morgan laughed. “Boring? How’s that?”
“Because it is.” He sighed, pushing his arms through the clean shirt Morgan was helping him put on. “I was hoping you were going to tell me a man had put that hop in your step.”
“The only man I need in my life is five years old and lets me read him a couple of stories each night when I tuck him into bed.” She grinned, then gave a mischievous look. “Plus, you, of course.”
“Of course,” he agreed, shaking his head. “A shame, though, that you’re raising that boy alone. He needs strong male role models.”
Morgan tsked. “You’re showing your age, John. That’s an outdated thought. You just complimented me on being tough, which hopefully makes me a strong role model for my son.” Lord, she hoped so. She was trying so hard, had gotten knocked down when she’d lost her job, but she’d gotten back to her feet, just as she had when Trey died. “For those times Greyson does need a masculine role model, I can’t imagine a better man than my Grampy.”
She’d eternally be thankful to her grandparents for taking them in while she figured out her next step. Losing Trey, then her job in under a two-year span, had shaken her very foundation, but with each day she’d been in Pine Hill she’d felt more like her old self. Happy. Positive. Increasingly confident she could take care of her son.
John frowned and asked in a serious voice, “Did you just accuse me of being old?”
Morgan gave him a sheepish look. “I did. Sorry. I mean, you’re what? Twenty-nine?”
He snorted, then cracked a grin. “A few lifetimes ago, maybe.”
