A Gift of Family. Mia Ross

      “Don’t ask. I can’t tell you.”

      “Can’t meaning you can’t stand to talk about it, or can’t meaning you’re not allowed to?”

      Grimacing, he clamped his mouth shut and refused to answer her. But his eyes had gone that icy color again, and she decided she’d had enough of his emotional-freezer routine.

      Making sure she had his full attention, very carefully she said, “That’s your choice, but you should know I don’t do dark and mysterious. Life is short, and I don’t waste my time chasing after people who can’t come out of themselves long enough to enjoy it.”

      He took a minute to absorb that, and his demeanor shifted slightly. “I’m not allowed to talk about it. Not with anyone.”

      What a horrible sacrifice to make, she thought wistfully. Unless that order changed, Seth would spend the rest of his life with part of himself locked in the past.

      “That can’t have been easy to admit,” she said approvingly as she unwound a length of gauze to wrap around the large pad she’d set on his forearm. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

      “I wish—”

      When his voice faltered, she glanced over at him. “What?”

      “Nothing.”

      While she was dying to know what he wished, she realized this disillusioned man had coiled up tight for a reason. No amount of prodding would convince him to open up to her unless he wanted to. If that meant it would never happen, she had to accept that. She might not like it, but she really didn’t have a choice.

      He cleared his throat and said, “I wish I was more like you.”

      “Really?” Astonished by his revelation, she laughed. No one had ever told her that before. “Why is that?”

      “Some folks can put their feelings right out there for everyone to see. You’re one of ’em.”

      “Is that good or bad?”

      “Good,” he answered immediately. “Very good.”

      He gave her a shy smile that made her want to hug him. Maddening as he was, he had a vulnerability that made her want to put in a little more effort with him than she normally would. If he was anyone else, she’d shrug at his quirks and be nice but not pursue him as more than a casual acquaintance. But it was Christmas. Goodwill toward men and all that.

      And there was something in the way Ruthy had thanked her for being nice to him that made Lisa want to keep trying. Far from home, he needed a friend. She could do that.

      “Something smells good.” He complimented her on the spicy aroma wafting over from a Crock-Pot on the counter.

      “Chili for supper tonight. It’s great with Ruthy’s corn bread. When the weather gets cold, I have it a lot because it’s easy to make while I’m at work.”

      “I should try that sometime. Maybe you could give me the recipe.”

      “Two cans of stewed tomatoes, a packet of chili powder and a half-pound of browned hamburger.” As she rinsed her cloth, she grinned over at him. “I’m not much of a cook.”

      “You’ve got me beat, that’s for sure.”

      “You just need a little practice is all.”

      * * *

      Yeah, Seth thought, with a lot of things. Like not getting tongue-tied when a pretty woman smiled at him the way Lisa was doing now.

      “Y’know,” she said while she rubbed salve into the worst cuts on his arms, “that whole roof could have caved in on you. God was really watching out for you.”

      He wasn’t willing to reveal that he and God had parted ways long ago. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

      That wasn’t entirely true, but he sensed that if he started debating religion with this very determined woman, it wouldn’t end well. This was her house, and if he couldn’t agree with her, the least he could do was not make her angry.

      Uncertainty hung in the air between them, and he searched for a way to get past it. “So what does the rest of your week look like? Lots of Christmas shopping?”

      Lame, lame, lame, a familiar voice in his head chided him. Fortunately, Lisa was more forgiving.

      “Oh, I’ve been done for two weeks now,” she replied as she rinsed out her cloth. “It’s a good thing, because I’ll probably be busy at the church.”

      Seth chuckled. “They didn’t even have Pastor Charles strapped on the gurney yet, and he was already trying to talk me into helping with the repairs.”

      “That sounds like him.”

      “I think he was a little loopy,” Seth continued. “He asked me to head up the crew.”

      “Why is that loopy? You’re doing a great job for Ruthy, and the way you rushed into that mess, you’ve got plenty of guts.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s really all you need.”

      “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on.”

      Pinning him with a no-nonsense stare, very quietly she said, “I’ve gone to Christmas Eve service in that church every year since I was born. I can’t imagine it any other way.”

      The thought of her being so disappointed made him feel like a heel. It also made him feel as though he should explain his reluctance. “It’s not that I don’t want to help.”

      “Then what is it?”

      The truth stuck in his throat, but he knew he owed her at least that much. After some hunting, he came up with an explanation he could live with. “I’m not very religious, so working on a church doesn’t seem right.”

      As she wrapped a bandage around his left hand, she casually asked, “Is this nonreligious thing a habit or something new?”

      “I was raised in it, like you. It just doesn’t work for me anymore.”

      “Any particular reason?”

      “God quit listening to me.”

      Seth was horrified to hear that come out of his mouth. He’d never said it quite so bluntly, and it sounded bitter. Then again, he was bitter, so maybe that was reasonable. To his surprise, Lisa didn’t chide him the way his mother often did. Actually, she didn’t seem all that concerned.

      Instead, she bathed him in a gentle, understanding smile. “I know it seems that way sometimes. God’s timing isn’t like ours, because He’s been around so long and He can see so far into the future. He always hears us. He just doesn’t always answer right away.”

      “Well, I got tired of waiting.”

      He’d endured three years of covert missions in the blazing sun, begging for divine help that never materialized, but Seth didn’t want to get into that with her. Now he understood why smart people never discussed politics or religion with each other. It was the best way to remain friends.

      “Maybe,” she suggested as she tied off the bandage, “if you think of the project as a building instead of a church, you’ll feel better about lending a hand.”

      When she connected with his eyes, the hopeful look on her face nearly did him in. Then logic kicked in, reminding him that he was treading on very thin ice.

      He hated to disappoint her, so he said, “Maybe.” While she started cleaning up his other hand, he ran his bandaged one over the mosaic tabletop. “This is really cool. I’ve never seen one like it.”

      “That’s because I made it.”

      She made it sound as if it was no big deal, but Seth was impressed. Leaning forward, he studied the design. “Really? How?”

      “I got the