“Speaking of strong male role models, I’ll have to bring Greyson to meet you sometime soon. I think he’d find you fascinating.” She certainly did.
“Lying in a hospital bed at an assisted living facility isn’t fascinating for any kid.” He shook his head, obviously full of self-disgust at his current situation. “I’m glad he has your grandfather, but he needs younger role models than the likes of me and your Grampy. Sign the boy up for sports this spring. Scouts or a camping club, too.”
“Maybe.” If Greyson wanted to play sports, be in scouts, or go to camp, she’d make sure he got the opportunity to do so. She wanted him to be involved with the community and to have different life experiences. Just so long as they were safe ones. “But you really needn’t worry. He’s found a few younger role models to hero worship, too.”
The man’s brows drew together in question. “The firefighters?”
“I brought him to the fire hall on Saturday for him to tour it with my cousin Sophie’s boyfriend. Too bad Greyson is so taken with another firefighter.”
She’d thought Cole and Sophie taking Greyson out in the fire truck might win Greyson over, but when they’d gotten back to the fire department her son had immediately searched out Andrew and given a play by play of riding in the truck.
“Oh?” The old man’s brow quirked up. “What’s so special about this other firefighter?”
His eyes. His smile. His laugh. His sense of humor. His modesty...Morgan swallowed, not liking any of the responses that popped into her head.
“He spent extra time with Greyson when he visited the school. Apparently, that means they bonded for life. Andrew gave him a plastic fire helmet that Greyson has worn almost non-stop. It’s all I can do to get him to take it off to take a bath or go to bed at night. I have to admit, he does look super cute in it.”
Smiling, John’s expression became wistful. “I’d like to see that.”
She got out her phone and pulled up the photo she’d taken of Greyson at the fire hall wearing his hat. “Isn’t he cute?”
The older man nodded. “Looks like you.”
Everyone said so. Probably because his eyes were the same color. Morgan mostly saw Trey, though. Sometimes Greyson’s expressions or the way he tackled problems were so similar, it was eerie, leaving her worried that he’d inherited all of her husband’s daredevil tendencies.
She scrolled through a couple of photos, showing John. But she should have scrolled faster or stopped with the first one, as she couldn’t help pausing when she reached one Greyson had requested she take. One of him with Andrew. She stared at the image of Andrew kneeling next to Greyson. Both wore big smiles. The next photo was one she’d snapped as Andrew had stolen Greyson’s plastic helmet and put it on while Greyson giggled up at him.
If she hadn’t had to work and had said yes to his offer, she and Greyson would be seeing him for dinner at Lou’s that evening. It had been two days, so according to his silly story, she should be going into withdrawal by now. She wasn’t missing him, though.
“Which firefighter is that with Greyson? He looks familiar.”
“His new BFF. Andrew Scott.”
“Ah, Charles and Ruby Jenkins’ grandson. Good kid.” John smiled. “Well, you were just telling me the other day how you were worried Greyson wasn’t making new friends.”
“For the record, I meant someone closer to his own age and not so...” her voice trailed off as she searched for words to describe Andrew.
“Not so what?” John prompted, then chuckled. “You’re blushing. Perhaps Greyson isn’t the only one smitten with the firefighter?”
Morgan wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole.
“Now that you’re dressed, are you ready to go to the community room? Pastor Smith arranged for some church members to sing Christmas carols at ten to kick off our Christmas season. Your therapist won’t be here until one today, so going might brighten up your morning.”
John perked up. “Maybelle Kirby going to be there?”
Surprised by his question and the way his shoulders had straightened, Morgan’s eyes widened. “Maybelle? I’m not sure. Do you hope she’s there?”
He gave Morgan an of course I do look.
“My Carla was a looker, and Lord knows not a day goes by that I don’t miss that woman. She was a good one, for sure. But Maybelle...” He attempted to whistle, and it came out a low phwwwhht phwooooh. “She was the prettiest girl these eyes ever beheld. When Maybelle came to town, we all stopped what we were doing to pay homage.”
Thinking of what a classically beautiful woman Maybelle still was, Morgan could only imagine what a beauty she would have been back in her heyday. Those Butterflies sure made an impact on all they met in one way or another.
“Had a bit of a crush on her, eh?”
“We all had a crush on her,” he admitted, wiggling his way to the edge of the bed and using the trapeze bar so his upper body could do most of the work. “But she only had eyes for Gary.”
“That was her husband?” she asked, hating the pain she saw on John’s face from his movements. Morgan always wanted to help, but she knew that it was better if she let him continue to build his strength and work it out on his own. He preferred it that way, anyway. “Maybelle’s one of my Grammy’s dearest friends. I knew she was a widow, but I don’t really know a lot about the circumstances. Just that her husband died while serving in the military.”
