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“That’s me.” Jonas inclined his head in acknowledgement, giving the pigtailed girl standing beside Bridget a curious look of his own.
“Put the groceries in the kitchen, Molly. There’s one more bag in the car. Would you get it for me? Then take it inside too.” It was an order, not a suggestion, issued to keep Jonas at a distance she was comfortable with. Bridget didn’t care if he thought she was rude. She wasn’t going to invite him in until she was ready.
“Sure, Mom.” Molly breezed through the outside door, heading for the kitchen, smiling at Jonas as she went by him. He seemed amused by her self-assurance.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Jonas, but I can’t stop to have a neighborly chat with you now. I bought ice cream and—and other frozen stuff that has to be put away,” Bridget explained with false pleasantness. Okay, that was going to take her exactly one minute and then she would simply tell him to scram. She followed her daughter inside, closing the screen door and leaving him on the porch side of it. That was a hint.
He didn’t seem to get it. “I don’t mind waiting until you’re through.” He deliberately ignored her hint that she wanted him to leave. “Go ahead, I’m in no rush.”
Aware of his alert gaze watching her unload the grocery bags through the mesh of the screen door, Bridget waited until Molly scampered off to her bedroom before talking to him again. “Why did you come, Jonas?”
“I wanted to see you,” he returned evenly.
The hopeful look on his face pretty much dissolved her wariness. And if her mother happened to come by, she’d see Jonas on the porch and probably try to pick an unnecessary fight.
Bridget decided against keeping him outside for the rest of this conversation. She walked back and let him in, taking care to stand as far away from the door she held open as she possibly could. He entered, looking around.
“I thought I’d made it plain that I wasn’t interested.” She returned to the kitchen, trying to keep her voice neutral as she set the canned goods from the bags onto the counter.
Jonas didn’t acknowledge the comment. She looked up to see him examining the pictures on the mantel and the bookshelves.
Molly as a baby. Molly as a toddler. Molly at Mommy-and-Me aerobics classes, being lifted on Bridget’s legs and giggling with glee. Molly’s first day of school. And every other magic moment involving Molly when Bridget had happened to have a camera on hand or a friend with a camera to capture it.
“You’re proud of her,” Jonas said softly.
“Yes, I am.”
“I couldn’t help noticing that there aren’t any pictures of your late husband.”
“So?” Bridget flashed.
“Whoa.” He held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “Sorry. Don’t bite my head off. I was just curious.”
“I don’t have many,” she snapped. “He didn’t like having his picture taken and he didn’t photograph well. Does that answer your question?”
Jonas’s mouth tightened. “I actually didn’t ask any questions. I was just stating a fact. I really am sorry. Obviously it’s a sensitive subject.” Turning away, he stared out the window, his hands in his pockets.
At that moment Molly returned with her finished quilt blocks for her mother’s approval.
“Those look great,” she said warmly, welcoming the distraction. “We can take them to the Vermont Quilter’s Fair in Norwich at the end of June. Maybe you can meet some other kids who like to quilt.”
“Okay,” Molly said happily. She beamed up at her mother. When Bridget noticed the way Jonas was studying both of them, she realized the reason for his curiosity.
It hadn’t been because he doubted her husband’s existence. It was more like masculine egotism. He had wanted to know what Brian looked like probably because he wanted to know if Bridget had married someone who resembled him.
Men were so predictable. She wasn’t going to enlighten Jonas now or later. No matter what, it wasn’t his business.
Bridget couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. There was something poignant in it and something lonely. Well, she could tell him a lot about what that felt like.
“Okay, honey, run along,” she said to Molly.
“It’s going to be dark soon.”
Bridget glanced at the window behind Jonas. The summer shadows were lengthening and the sky was a deeper blue, streaked with pink-tinted clouds. Sunset in Vermont was always worth slowing down for. She was half-tempted to invite him to stay for dinner … but no.
Just because he was giving her a puppy-dog look didn’t mean she had to feed him. “You could play with your dolls, Molly.”
“I’m too old for dolls,” Molly declared, giving her mother a haughty look. “That’s kid stuff.”
