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“Like the Colonel’s eleven secret herbs and spices?”
“You know that was just marketing, right?” Ellie said.
“Really?”
“Ah. So that’s a no.”
Lexi swapped grins with her, glad to have found someone she could almost regard as the sister she’d never had. Her brother, Matt, was ten years older, so Lexi had felt like an only child for much of her life. Of course, that had both advantages and disadvantages, chief of which was that Lexi had become the center of her mother’s world. It had taken university studies on the opposite side of the planet to convince Mum that she could survive, something that had lasted through Lexi’s first five years of work. Until she almost hadn’t.
“Is your mother around?” she asked Ellie quietly.
“I’ll go see.”
Ellie disappeared down a narrow hallway and knocked on a door at the end. Not wanting to seem like she was spying, Lexi moved to the kitchen where Jackson was crouched down, looking through the glass door of the oven.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“You’re a guest,” he said. “Guests don’t have to help.”
“Well, I’m glad to know they don’thaveto help.” She tried to inject a smile into her tone. “But what if they want to?”
He pushed upright, and she got a sense as to how tall he really was. The muscles in his arm said hard work was nothing new, and she caught a whiff of something that smelled like leather, moss, and something very male. Her stomach tensed, and she stepped back. Released a slow, appreciative breath.
There was a lot to appreciate about Jackson Reilly. His faith, his height, his breadth, his strength, his willingness to cook. Call her shallow, but some of these were qualities she’d come to value a lot more in recent months.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, please.” The warm weather and dry dusty conditions left her throat parched.
He poured her a glass of lemonade and she was gently directed to the table where she sat and was met a half minute later by an apologetic Ellie.
“Mom is sorry, but she’s not feeling well today.”
“Is there something I can help with?”
Ellie shot a look at Jackson then shook her head. “Mom is often tired, and she doesn’t like to keep seeing doctors.”
“Lots of people don’t.” But they were often the very people who needed medical attention. Perhaps she might be able to help another way, another day.
The next twenty minutes flew past in a flurry of plates, food, and laughter. Lexi hadn’t expected to enjoy herself this much, but the teasing between brother and sister warmed her heart, reminding her of the ease which she used to find with friends from church, or her colleagues in her nursing unit. Comfortable, with easy rapport, questions flinging back and forth.
“So, nursing. Did you have a specialty?” Jackson asked, taking a sip of his cola.
“I’d wondered about pediatrics, but maybe I’m a wuss, I just couldn’t be brave enough when the really sick kids came in.”
“That would be hard.” His dark eyes softened with compassion.
She nodded, her throat thickening. “I’m not great at telling people their child is dying.”
“I don’t think many people would be.”
She studied the faded floral print of the dinner plate. “I ended up doing a stint in emergency, when—” Why was she saying this? Her hand reached up and adjusted the scarf at her throat. Maybe she was extra self-conscious today, but it seemed people at church had been looking at her more closely. Maybe her scarf had slipped the other day and revealed something of her trauma to the world.
“When what?” Ellie asked.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I … had a bad accident at work, it’s not something I like to talk about much.” Or ever.
“Fair enough.” Jackson’s lips curved.
