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Once again, Laura felt the warring between anger and compassion. “Your husband did this to you, didn’t he?” she accused.
The woman looked at her, insisting, “He didn’t mean to.”
“I’ll just bet he didn’t,” Laura muttered with heat.
“You don’t understand,” the woman protested.
“No, and I never will.” She couldn’t bring herself to pretend otherwise.
Approaching footsteps sent the boy scurrying to the living room again. Laura stood up when Sebastian entered the room, carrying a sealable plastic bag filled with ice cubes and water. During the brief moment when their eyes met, Laura picked up something, but she couldn’t tell if it was frustration or exasperation.
“This should help the swelling, Mrs. Mitchell.” He eased the ice bag onto her black eye and used the extra pillow to prop it in place.
“Thank you,” the woman murmured and searched out Laura with her other eye. “Thank you both.”
“You lie there and rest a bit,” Sebastian said and took Laura by the arm, turning her toward the door.
The woman reacted with a flash of panic. “You aren’t going to call anybody, are you? Please, I—”
“We won’t. I promise,” Sebastian assured her. “Lie still. And keep that ice bag on your eye.”
The woman subsided against the pillow, but her worried glance followed them when Sebastian escorted Laura from the room. Laura studied the grim set of Sebastian’s mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I suspect I know what the boy stole from Mrs. Fedderson,” he stated. “A sack of marshmallows. Would you care to guess why?”
Laura had a bitter feeling that she knew the answer. “He was hungry.”
“Precisely,” he said, his speech cold and clipped. “The shelves in that kitchen are regrettably bare. No milk, no bread, no tins—in fact, there is little beyond flour, salt, cooking oil, a few spices, and a package of dried beans.”
“I think Mitchell’s been out of work for some time.”
“The cause is irrelevant. Those children need food.” Sebastian made it a flat statement of fact. “You stay here while I go to Fedderson’s and pick up some groceries for them.”
“Here.” Laura dug into her purse and pulled out the truck keys. “You might as well drive the truck back. It’ll save carrying the groceries all this way.” She hesitated. “How are you fixed for cash?”
There was a touch of drollness in his crooked smile. “I’m not in the poorhouse yet.”
The left-handed reference to his current financial straits prompted Laura to extract a pair of twenty-dollar bills from her wallet. “I’ll contribute to the cause just the same.” She pushed the money and the keys into his hand as the little girl waddled past them into the bedroom, leaving the stench of a soiled diaper in her wake. Laura wrinkled her nose at the odor. “Better pick up some disposable diapers, too. There’s one on top of the dresser but it’s probably the last.”
Sebastian hesitated. “On second thought, perhaps you should go instead. If the husband should come home and find you—”
“He wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me.” Laura pushed her chin forward at a combative angle, her dark eyes snapping with temper.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I am quite certain you are more than a match for him, but I prefer not to take the risk.”
“He would be twice as angry to find a strange man in his house,” Laura warned.
His mouth curved in one of those lazy, sexy smiles. “I do believe you are concerned for my well-being. How encouraging.”
“I was merely thinking of how difficult it would be for you to attract the interest of some wealthy woman if that handsome face of yours is bashed in.” Laura countered.
“You find it handsome, do you?” Teasing laughter danced in his eyes, a match to the amused smugness of his smile.
“Too bad it’s all you have to offer,” Laura retorted, enjoying the playful banter that had them matching wits.
“It isn’t all,” he stressed suggestively and tucked both the money and the keys into her purse before adding more bills from his pocket. “Go to the store. There will be a better time to jog your memory.”
