Blessed Vows. Jillian Hart

      Rachel clicked on the oven and there was a clatter as she dug a cookie sheet out of the bottom cabinets. Her “Oops!” was good-natured as she put away the other racks and cookie sheets that had tumbled out with the first one.

      She had a patience about her, an inner harmony that he admired. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she was probably great with kids. “I’m sure Sally would like to hang out with you tomorrow. Thanks.”

      “Not a problem.” She rose, a petite willow of a woman who moved like poetry, like grace, like all that was good in the world.

      It was nice, it was normal. He wasn’t used to nice and normal, he’d been away from a normal life for so long, he didn’t feel as if he quite fit anymore. It was heartening to see, it gave a man pause, to watch a woman in a kitchen preparing supper and to know all was safe here, all was right in this tiny piece of the world.

      Maybe he could lay down his responsibilities, the constant on-guard duty he carried, and rest for a short while. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, but it washed over him like a warm rain.

      “Jake, I’ll whip you up some homemade fries,” she said as she hauled real potatoes out of the pantry. “It’ll only take a second. Sally is welcome to have her soda in the living room. Why don’t I take that in to her before I start getting busy in here?”

      His throat closed entirely. Unable to know what emotions were whirling around free inside him, and just as unable to speak, he held up his hand, stopping her with what he hoped wasn’t too harsh a gesture and grabbed Sally’s cup and his soda can.

      He walked out of the kitchen and didn’t look back, but he swore he left a part of himself standing there, awed by the woman and her kindness.

      Chapter Four

      It always made Rachel happy to be in the kitchen. With the hum of the TV drifting in through the dining room, she popped the tray of fish sticks and Tater Tots into the oven and plunked the small hill of hand-cut potatoes into the deep-fryer. Cooking was comforting, maybe because she associated it with her mom and dad.

      Few things in a day made her happier than having someone to cook for, even temporarily. The fatigue that had built on her in layers throughout the day began to fade. As she set the timer, a new burst of energy lifted her up. The fryer’s oil sizzled and snapped and the sound was a friendly accompaniment while she dug through the shelving inside the refrigerator’s door and picked out the appropriate condiments.

      After loading up a tray with napkins and flatware, she set out for the living room. The rise and fall of voices from the television grew louder, drawing her closer. On the couch in front of the colorful screen and washed in the glowing light, the big man and little girl sat side by side, intent on the old family movie.

      Wow. It was awesome Sally had an uncle like Jake who would take her in without question. Otherwise, she’d hate to think of what the child might face. She’d been exposed to that fear as a kid. But probably Sally had it worse losing her home and having to move across the country to the house where Jake was stationed. While Sally battled her grief over her mom, at least she had Jake to love and protect her, to keep her safe from this world that often did not think of children.

      Rachel set the tray in the center of the coffee table, leaning just right so she wouldn’t block their view of the tube.

      Jake stirred from his TV watching. “I ought to get off my duff and help you.”

      “There’s nothing left to do.”

      Heaven save me from this man. It would be nothing at all to simply fall fast and hard in love with him. Well, not real love, that was something that deepened forever between a man and woman, but the initial tumble, that wouldn’t take too much if she kept seeing more of his good heart.

      Nope, she needed to handle things from here by herself. It was a matter of self-preservation. “You stay right there with Sally. She needs your company. I’ll be back with supper.”

      “You eat in here?”

      “Why not? It’s Friday. It’s the tradition in this house.”

      As she turned her back on the cheerful movie flashing across the screen, it was the past and its cherished memories that came with her. This was why she loved living in this house so much. The four of them together as kids, crowded onto the two couches that used to be in this room, pushing and shoving and laughing in good humor so that it was hard to listen to the movie.

      Dad would be manning the grill outside if it was summer, and he’d pop his head through the slider door and shout at them to stop hitting one another. As she set up the TV trays, Mom would be laughing, reminding him that he was the one who wanted four kids, remember?

      As often as not, one of them would jump off the couches to help her. Soon their favorite meal of cheese-burgers and Tater Tots would be served up on the trays, they’d all be eating and watching the TV. All through the show, Dad would make funny comments meant to make them all howl with laughter.

      Yeah, she thought as she whipped the fries from the hot grease, this was the reason she hadn’t settled down yet. Because she hadn’t settled. How could she want anything less than the family life she’d had growing up? One day, the good Lord willing, she would know that brand of happiness again.

      Until then, it was nice to dish up plates with everything just right for her guests. Tater Tots done just right—crispy on the outside and warm and chewy on the inside. Fresh fries still steaming, both heaped on half of the good stoneware she’d gotten for Christmas from her sisters, and plenty of golden crispy fish sticks. Small bowls of coleslaw, made fresh at the diner that morning, added the required vegetables to the meal.

      The loaded tray made hardly a clatter as she carried it through the dark dining room and into the living room where the bold animation on the screen flashed enough color to light her way. Careful not to disturb the movie-viewing, she handed off Sally’s plate, setting it right in front of her on the coffee table and adding the little bowl of coleslaw. She meant to circle around and slip Jake’s plate onto the other side, but he held out his hand. “If that tastes as good as it smells, I’m gonna be the most grateful man in Montana.”

      “You really must be hungry. To be the most grateful man over a pile of fish sticks.” She avoided his fingers as she gave him his plate heaped with steaming-hot food and then slid the bowl of slaw onto the coffee table before he could reach.

      “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a home-cooked meal?”

      “This isn’t home cooked. It’s straight from the freezer.” It was funny he thought so, though.

      “These fries look homemade.”

      “They are, but, well, the rest used to be frozen. But, hey, as long as you’re happy.”

      “Happy? I’ve spent the last two years nearly straight in the desert. Eating MREs and mess-tent food, and let me tell you, this is the best. Just the best.” He sounded as if she’d set an expensive, four-star meal in front of him.

      “I’m glad you think so.” That was what mattered. If Ben’s best buddy was happy, then she was, too. “If your flight doesn’t work out, I’ll make you that roast dinner tomorrow.”

      “Deal. You want to say grace?”

      “You’re the guest.” She unloaded her plate onto the corner of the coffee table and set the tray out of the way. “Please, you go right ahead.” She was pretty interested in what he’d say. A tough guy, just like her brother, would probably be to the point. Her brother’s favorite prayer, she guessed: “Good food, good God. Amen.”

      Jake’s head bowed and his big hands steepled. Definitely not what she expected, but she liked what she saw—the sincere tilt of his profile as his eyes drifted shut.

      “Dear Heavenly Father, “he began in his steady baritone. “Thank you for the blessings we find at the end of this day. That Sally and I are together.