The Texan's Happily-Ever-After. Karen Rose Smith

to find herself thinking the house looked like a home.

      To the left of the house, set back, a three-bay garage stood waiting. Shep headed for the parking area in front and she followed, her tires crunching on the stones as she parked beside him. Then she went to the back of his truck to help him with Manuel. The little boy was awake, but not altogether himself.

      “He’s usually yelling and screaming to be let out of his car seat by now.”

      “Give him some time to get back to normal.”

      As Shep reached for Manuel, the two-year-old began to cry. “What did I do?” Shep asked worriedly.

      “Are you grumpy after you have a tooth drilled?”

      “Sometimes,” Shep answered warily.

      “Well, think about how Manuel must feel.”

      To Shep’s surprise, when he held Manuel in the crook of his arm and closed the back door of the truck, the little boy reached toward Raina.

      “Do you think she can do a better job of making you feel better?” Shep asked, half serious, half joking.

      Manuel stared at his dad for a few seconds, then reached for Raina again.

      Shep shrugged. “Go ahead.”

      “This has nothing to do with your ability to take care of him,” Raina assured him as she cuddled Manuel close and let the baby lay his head against her hair.

      “There’s a basic difference between men and women,” Shep decided. “That’s what this is all about.”

      “And that difference is?” Raina asked, not sure she wanted to know.

      “Women are softer. Men are harder. It’s a matter of comfort.”

      Raina couldn’t help but hide a smile as she followed Shep up the porch steps to the front door and into the house.

      A ceiling fan hummed in the large living room and tempered the noise coming from beyond. Raina caught a glimpse of a colorful sofa, its covering stamped with rodeo cowboys and horses. Black wrought-iron lamps and comfortable-looking side chairs complemented the casual decor. Sand art on the wall appeared to be hand-crafted, as did the mandala over the sofa and the blue pottery painted with gray wolves high on the bookcase. The big flat-screen TV was a focal point in the room.

      Manuel tucked his face into her neck and she snuggled him closer. She liked the feel of a baby in her arms. Once she’d hoped a child would be a possibility. But so many possibilities had died on September eleventh, along with her husband.

      At first, she’d thought about him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Memories still popped up now and then without her summoning them. But time was taking its toll, and life went on, whether she grieved and remembered or not. Life had swept her along with it, and she’d stopped resisting its force, though a deep ache was always there.

      As they neared the kitchen, loud boys’ chatter turned into more of a shouting match. Six-year-old Roy and eight-year-old Joey were coloring at a large rectangular pedestal table. But Joey was now drawing on Roy’s picture, and in retaliation Roy was drawing on Joey’s.

      They were pointing fingers and making accusations while a woman in her fifties, with white-blond spiked hair and long dangling earrings stirred a pot on the stove and firmly called their names. “Roy. Joey. Stop squabbling. You don’t want your dad to come in and hear you.”

      “Dad’s too busy to hear us,” Joey said defiantly, his dark brown eyes snapping in his mocha-skinned face.

      Roy nudged his brother’s shoulder. “Dad don’t want us to fight.”

      “We’re not fighting,” Joey declared, making another mark on Roy’s paper. “We’re just drawing.”

      “Drawing very loudly,” Shep admonished them as he stepped through the doorway into the kitchen. “Eva, shouldn’t they be helping you get supper ready?”

      “We did help her,” they both chimed in unison, running to him for a hug.

      “Oh, I just bet you did.”

      Suddenly Joey looked around Shep and saw Raina. “What are you doing here? Did she come to do something to Manuel or to me or Roy?”

      Raina couldn’t imagine what they thought she’d do. She’d examined Joey when he had a sinus infection, but that had been about the extent of it.

      “Why is she carrying Manuel?” Joey wanted to know.

      Raina suddenly wondered if any parent could answer all of the questions a child might ask in one day.

      “Dr. Gibson came home with me to make sure Manuel feels okay,” Shep responded, and quickly introduced her to his housekeeper, who had kind, hazel eyes.

      “The doctor came home with you so you can spend time with us,” Roy decided, looking happy at that idea.

      From their exchange Raina guessed Manuel’s earaches had shifted most of Shep’s attention to him, and the older boys didn’t like it.

      “Supper in fifteen minutes,” Eva called. “Boys, you’d better wash up.”

      Their heads swung to Shep almost in unison, and he nodded. “Do what Eva said.”

      But before they ran off to the bathroom, Roy studied Raina again. “Are you staying for supper? We’re having chili. Eva doesn’t make it so hot, ’cause I don’t like it that way.”

      Raina laughed. “I don’t know if I’m staying.”

      “We’d like you to,” Shep said quietly.

      Eva added, her eyes twinkling, “I made plenty.”

      She really hadn’t intended to stay and share a meal. Sharing a meal formed a…bond. But with little Manuel clinging to her, Roy looking at her hopefully, Joey studying her a little suspiciously and Shep standing only a few feet from her, giving off signals that he wanted her to stay, she agreed. “All right. Thanks for the invitation. My mom makes chili, too, and I don’t like it too hot, either.”

      At that, Roy grinned and ran off with his brother to wash up.

      Manuel cuddled against her, looking up at her with big brown eyes. “How do you feel, little one?” she asked gently.

      He reached for her chin, and when his fingers made contact he said, “Rocky, rocky.”

      Raina looked to Shep for an explanation. He was watching Manuel’s fingers on her skin. He was looking at her lips. She felt hot and cold, and much too interested in what Shep was thinking right now.

      Eva explained, “When Manuel first came here, all he wanted Shep to do was to rock him in the big rocking chair in the living room.”

      Raina bought her attention back to Manuel’s words. “I suppose he’s associated rocking with comfort. I can do that.”

      “I can hold dinner longer, but the boys are going to get their hands dirty again,” Eva warned.

      “There’s a solution,” Shep assured her. “I’ll bring the rocker to the table.”

      “She still won’t be able to eat if she’s rocking Manuel.”

      Since Raina would rather talk with than be talked about, she assured them, “I can rock and eat at the same time. It might get a little messy, but maybe I can get Manuel to drink.”

      Eva nudged Shep’s shoulder. “I can see why you brought her along. She’s on top of things.”

      “I’ll say she is,” Shep said, looking at her almost as if he didn’t want to be looking at her. The same way she knew she shouldn’t be looking at him?

      Dinner was a rowdy meal, as the boys dipped corn bread into their chili and talked with their mouths full. Roy told Raina about his bus ride that morning and afternoon. Joey talked, mostly about