Cathy Hake - Mixed Blessings

“I saw your grocery list on the table. When Sandy comes back with Ricky, why don’t we all go do the marketing together?”

A tiny sparkle of humor glinted in her eyes. “Are you that desperate for coffee?”

Relieved that she’d recovered enough to tease him, he chuckled. “I will be by lunchtime.”

“Hmm. Addicted to caffeine?”

He propped the basket against his thigh and held up the other hand in a gesture of mock surrender. “I plead guilty. I’m pathetic. I love coffee—any kind of coffee—as long as it isn’t decaffeinated. In fact, while I’m confessing my darkest secrets, you may as well hear it straight from me—I’m just as bad when it comes to pie. I’ll eat anything served in a pie tin.”

“Anything?”

“Up ’til now. You name it, I’ve probably tried it.”

She cocked her head to the side and assessed him slowly. “Baked beans from a campfire?”

He perked up. “Do you like to camp?”

“Love to. I already bought Ricky a little backpack. We strap it on him, and he wears it around so he can carry a tiny bit of gear when I take him to Yosemite.”

“I love Yosemite.”

“My goal is to take him on a trip when he turns five. By then, Sandy will be out on her own and independent, so we can slip off without too much concern. Ricky enjoys going on walks, and he’d love to see the flowers and squirrels.” She paused, then added, “By that point, I have no doubt he’ll be able to swim and climb trees. Besides, he’s a trouper when it comes to walking. He doesn’t often ask me to carry him anymore.”

“Just as well. He’s a pretty good-sized tyke.” He smiled. “I used to do serious, backwoods survival hiking a couple of times a year. Since I lost Darlene, I stick to safer hobbies.”

Her hands fisted tightly. “Everything changes, doesn’t it?”

Peter set down the basket. Her hair looked as baby soft and fine as Luke’s. Though the same color as Luke’s, her eyes held the haunted cast of someone who suffered terrible heartache. He knew he’d only made her hurt more by being insensitive, and it bothered him. He wanted her to know he cared, and that he shared some of those same lonely feelings. Reaching over, he slowly took her fist into his hand and gently unknotted it as he spoke. “With a little one underfoot, you have to keep going, even when you feel like you can’t make it another minute more.”

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