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He finally pries Auggie’s arms from around his neck and gets him settled in his seat with promises of pie after lunch while I carry trays down the hall for Mom and Liz, letting them know that Blake is here. With a small bounce on the mattress, Lizzie hops up and sticks her head into the hall hollering a greeting to him that makes her start coughing again. He calls back to her and I tuck her back into bed, placing the tray over her lap while she sulks about not being able to come out and visit.
Smoothing my hand over her hair I whisper, “You don’t want to get Blake sick, so
stay put. There’s pie for later.”
Her pouty expression brightens immediately, “Chocolate?” she asks hopefully.
“I haven’t checked, but if there is chocolate, I will put your name on it.”
Dipping her garlic toast in her soup she makes a contented noise, dismissing me. Everyone is settled so I head back to the kitchen to see what’s left over for me.
I’m surprised when I re-enter the kitchen to find Auggie happily munching on toast and soup, but Blake’s bowl is empty.
“Beatriz and Lizzie okay?” He asks, ladling the savory broth into bowls and setting them on plates with the toast. I move to approach him and he shakes his head. “I’ve got this. Go wash up.”
Embarrassed that I almost forgot, I hurry to the sink and scrub my hands before taking my seat at the table across from him. He waits for me to pick up my spoon and take a bite before doing the same. I can hardly remember the last time anyone waited for me to eat. It was before Liz’s accident.
Mom always insisted on us using good table manners, but after Liz came home from the rehabilitation center, we traded our old normal for a new one. One where I have felt more and more taken for granted even though I know that hasn’t been anyone’s intention. Blake’s one small gesture gives me back something I didn’t realize I was missing. A feeling that I’m important to someone.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” I tell him, feeling super emotional and wanting to express how much I appreciated it. The soup is amazing, as usual. There’s a reason it’s my favorite. I wait for Blake to finish his first bite of tender chicken and orzo pasta in light broth to see what he thinks.
Placing his spoon back in his bowl, he grins scooping another bite into his mouth and swallowing before replying. “Of course I waited. I wanted to have lunch with you.” He says ripping a chunk off his piece of bread.
“I’m glad,” I say, suddenly feeling a little bit shy. We finish eating in silence, our eyes frequently meeting across the table. His long legs are stretched out so that my feet are bracketed between his. It’s nice.
When we finish eating Blake insists on clearing the table while I put Auggie down for his nap. I could get used to this teamwork thing. Mom and I have a routine, but usually when I’m home she’s working, so things like dishes and nap time fall to me to handle alone.
When I return to the kitchen Blake is waiting by the back door, tall glasses of iced tea in hand.
“Wanna go sit in the yard?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“Yes. Let me go tell Mama to listen for Auggie. Meet you out there?” I hurry to answer.
“Okay,” he leans forward, “but kiss me first.”
My heart races. There is no way I could turn that down. Closing the space between us I place my trembling hands on his raspy cheeks and press my lips against his, lingering for a moment before stepping back. “Be right back.” I murmur, spinning and jogging down the hall one more time.
Tiptoeing into my mom’s room I ask quietly, “Mama, can you listen for Agustus so I can sit in the yard with Blake?”
“I have taken care of children when I’m sick, querida,” Mama reminds me with a laugh.
“I know Mama,” I say, “it’s just…”
“It’s just that you try to shoulder the burden for everything, but you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of taking care of Auggie and Lizzie. You need to take time for yourself, Elinor. I’m glad that you have met someone who is helping you slow down a little. It’s not good to be pushing yourself all the time the way you do.”
I blink my eyes in shock, I had no idea that Mom was aware of how I’ve been feeling, let alone had been worried about me, but the relief in her voice makes it evident that she has been.
“It’s hard, Mama.” I admit. I know that she understands what I mean.
“I know sweetie, it is hard. Everything you do is appreciated, even when we forget to tell you.” She rises from her bed, pulling me into a tight hug, rubbing her hand soothingly over my back.
“Now go spend some time with that nice boy of yours.” She directs, pushing me gently toward the hall. “And don’t forget to wash your hands again.”
“He’s not a boy Mama,” I laugh, doing as she said and hurrying toward where I know he’s waiting for me.
Chapter Nineteen
Blake
