Brenda Mott - The New Baby

“Your legs must be hollow,” Amanda teased. “I think I’ve gained five pounds just watching you eat.”

To her amusement, his face flushed beneath his tan and he swiped the napkin across his mouth before answering. “I told you the food here was something you don’t want to miss out on. It’s enough to make me forget my manners and make a pig of myself—no pun intended.”

Amanda laughed and began to relax. “It’s beyond good,” she agreed, polishing off the last of her curly fries. “I’m going to have to walk home to wear off the calories.” The barbecue sandwich she’d eaten had been twice as big as she’d expected, served on a bun so large there was no way to hold it and still maintain good table manners. She’d ended up eating it with her fork.

“I still agree with Papaw,” Ian said, his lips curving enough to make the dimples appear in his cheeks. “You don’t have to worry about calories, but if you’d like to take a walk after we eat, I know a good place to go.”

“All right, you’re on.” What could a walk hurt? She wasn’t so much worried about getting a workout as she was about finding a way to make this date end on a casual note, and exercise might be just the ticket.

A short time later, Ian drove them back toward town, turning down a side street near the nursing home. The road dead-ended and a park stretched out before them, playground equipment still visible in the fading evening light. The place was empty, save for a couple with three children at the pond feeding the ducks, and two kids on the slide. A stray dog nosed its way around the trash container near a picnic table, then trotted off on some unknown mission.

“This is nice,” Amanda said, watching the family with wistful envy. She tore her gaze away from them with effort. “I’ve been here a few times on my lunch break.”

“The place is usually packed around lunchtime after Sunday church services,” Ian said. “Lots of folks picnic here. It’s also popular with the teenagers for parking on Saturday nights.”

His dark eyes held her gaze long enough for Amanda’s thoughts to travel down a path best left unexplored. Briefly, she wondered if he’d brought her here hoping to indulge in a bit of what the high-school kids came for, but before she could dwell on the thought, Ian opened the truck door and climbed out.

She started to exit the pickup as well, but he hurried around to help her down as he had previously. “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Oh?” Curiosity played with her emotions as Amanda chastised herself for her silly suspicions. If the man wanted to take advantage of her, he’d had plenty of opportunity the other night in the dark cover of the woods surrounding Granny’s cabin.

They walked toward the center of the park, stopping halfway between the picnic tables and playground equipment. A gazebo Amanda had admired on her last trip here stood, still under construction, encircled by bright orange mesh fencing.

“My cousin and I built this,” Ian said.

“Really?” She looked at him, surprised. “I thought you were a welder.”

“I am. But I’m sort of a jack-of-all-trades. We should have the gazebo finished by this coming weekend.”

“Just in time for ‘Good Neighbor Days.’” Her coworkers had been talking about the upcoming annual pre-summer celebration and town picnic, held the first Saturday of June.

“That’s right.” Ian nodded. “Are you going to come?”

Amanda hesitated. Too much of a good thing—in this case, being around Ian—might prove not to be such a good thing after all. And besides, she’d come to Boone’s Crossing to hide, to heal, not to socialize. “I don’t know.” She avoided his gaze. “I’ll have to see what’s going on.”

“Well, I hope you can make it. I plan to bring Papaw, but I’ll probably have to wheel him over in his chair. My pickup sits too high off the ground for him to get in with his hip and all.”

“I’m sure Zeb will enjoy the outing.” She looked at the gazebo once more, with its intricate woodwork. “You and your cousin did a good job. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her you said so.”

“Her?” Amanda raised her eyebrows.

“Yep. Samantha Jo was always handy with a hammer and nails.” He grinned. “She raises a few eyebrows around here with the good ol’ boys.”

Amanda laughed. “I’m impressed. Your family seems to be multitalented. Zeb told me he used to run your welding shop with you.”

“More like the other way around. He and Dad had the shop when I was a kid. Papaw taught me everything I know when it comes to building or fixing things.” He gestured toward the playground equipment. “I built those monkey bars for the kids to climb on. Welded each piece together to make it extra strong. Safe. And I did the ladder for the slide, and the frame and all for the swing set.”

“Wow.” She’d had no idea he was so skilled, and had somehow pictured him welding something of a more generic, shop-related nature. “Are those wooden seats?”

“Yeah. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She followed him to the swing set and stopped in front of it. The frame was made of heavy steel piping, but the swings themselves were indeed old-fashioned-looking wood, suspended from chains. Amanda ran her hand over the surface of one of the brightly painted red-and-blue seats. “It’s so smooth.”

“No splinters that way,” he said. “And the chains are small enough to hold, but big enough not to pinch any little fingers.”

“The nurse in me gives you an A-plus for safety,” she said, with a thumbs-up gesture.

He laughed. “Sounds more like a teacher.”

Sudden melancholy gripped her. “My sister teaches kindergarten,” she said. “Back in Colorado.”

“Yeah?” He nodded approval. “Seems like you’ve got a well-rounded family. Any other siblings?”

“Nope. Just me and Nikki. And you?”

“I’m an only child. Mom’s gone—we lost her to breast cancer some years back—and Dad lives in Virginia.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your mom,” Amanda said. She focused on some distant point beyond the playground equipment. “Unfortunately, death doesn’t discriminate.”

“No, it doesn’t. What about your folks? Do they live in Colorado?”

She faced him once more, curling her fingers around the chain on one of the swings. “My parents divorced when Nikki and I were too young to remember. I have no idea where my father is. Mom lived in Colorado for a while, when Nik and I were in high school, then she took off again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.” She quirked her mouth. “She never stays in one place long. That’s why Nikki and I spent our summers with Granny. She was our roots, the one home we knew would always be there. Mom drove us nuts growing up, always making us change schools. We’d barely make friends at one, then move on to another. So we made her promise to stay in one place while we finished high school, and that turned out to be Colorado. But as soon as we were both in college, she took off for Texas, and from there she went to Oklahoma and finally recently ended up in Montana.”

“Wow. I’ve never been out of state, unless you count driving across the line into Kentucky or Virginia.” He paused. “What made your mother want to move around so much, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Amanda sighed and sank absentmindedly onto the swing. Gripping the chains in both hands, she pushed it with her foot enough to make it sway. “Mom’s a dreamer. One time she moved us to Nashville, hoping to become a country star.”

“No foolin’?”

She nodded. “Another time she decided to become a pilot. It only took one flying lesson before she realized that wasn’t her cup of tea. She was always struggling to take care of us and see that we had everything we needed. Nikki and I did what we could to help out with after-school jobs. But each time Mom seemed to think things would be better in the next town, at the next job, and that her dream career was somewhere just out of her reach. Guess you can’t fault her for trying.”