The Marriage Wish. Dee Henderson

we’ll go to Fred’s,” she replied, knowing how he hated the boring food served there.

      Scott sighed. “If you’re going to twist my arm like that, I’ll buy. Why do I love you so much, anyway?”

      “Because I’ve got two kids you adore so you have to be nice to me,” she replied with a grin. “I’ll find you after church. I’m on piano today.”

      “Break a finger.”

      She smiled, tugged his hair, and left him to finish preparing his lesson.

      Chapter Three

      The doorbell rang just as Jennifer finished turning the caramel popcorn out onto the wax paper. Setting down the wooden spoon, she went to answer the door.

      “Hi, Tom.” She held open the door for her nephew.

      “Hi, Jen,” he replied with a big grin. “Dad bought out almost the entire store.” He was carrying a full grocery sack.

      Jennifer smiled. “He hasn’t changed.” She could see the cookies and the bag of chips. “Take them straight to the living room, Tom. On the coffee table.”

      “Okay.”

      Peter was coming up the walk, carrying Alexander. Jennifer held the door for him. “Thanks.” He stepped inside, carrying his sleeping son. “He fell asleep as soon as we got into the car,” Peter said softly.

      Jennifer nodded toward her bedroom. “Go ahead and put him down.”

      Her brother nodded and disappeared down the hall.

      The roses. Jennifer hurried after Peter. She had moved the roses Scott had sent into her bedroom. Peter would ask too many questions if he saw them.

      Peter didn’t bother to turn on the bedroom light, and by chance, the door to the bathroom was open, partially hiding the flowers on the dresser. Jennifer helped slip off Alexander’s tennis shoes. Peter pulled a light blanket over him.

      “Okay.” Peter nodded to the door. “I think he’ll be fine.”

      They left the bedroom. Peter didn’t notice the flowers.

      “Aunt Jen, what channel is the game on?”

      “Seventeen.” Jennifer smiled at Tom’s worried expression. “We’re still early, Tom. It’s on after this show,” she reassured him. “I’ve got caramel popcorn made if you would like to help bring it out from the kitchen,” she offered.

      Tom was on his feet in an instant. “Sure.”

      Peter pulled out glasses, filled them with ice as Jennifer and Tom put the finishing touches on a huge bowl of caramel popcorn. Peter reached around them to sample the warm, slightly sticky caramel mixture. “Good job, Jen.”

      She grinned. “Thanks.”

      “Sticky, though.”

      Jennifer tossed him two clean towels from the bottom drawer by the stove. “For the living room.”

      He nodded and wisely got one of them damp. He added them both to the tray he was putting together. “Anything else we need?”

      Jennifer added two large spoons to the tray. “That should be it.”

      As was tradition, Peter and Jennifer sat on the floor, using the couch as a backrest. Tom stretched out in front of the fireplace.

      “Did Rachel and Tiffany go for their night out?”

      Peter nodded. “They left about six-thirty.” He opened the box of cookies and offered Jennifer one. She accepted. “They were going to get ice cream, Tiffany finally decided she wanted one of those two-scoop sundaes, then they were going to the show.”

      “Tom, how was your day?”

      Her nephew had pulled out the sports page of the newspaper and was reading intently. “It was good,” Tom replied absentmindedly.

      Jennifer looked over at Peter and shared a smile. Tom was a reader. A very intense, careful reader. There was always one in the family. Jennifer had lightened up over the years, but she could also be like Tom, totally absorbed in something.

      “Tom.” Peter finally got his attention. “It’s not polite to ignore your hostess.”

      “Sorry, Aunt Jen,” he apologized.

      “Look on page 26, there is an article about the state soccer finals,” she said, apologizing as well for interrupting him.

      “Really?” Tom turned the next few pages. “Thanks.”

      The show credits rolled by. Peter reached for the remote and adjusted the sound. Jennifer settled back, propped her knees against the coffee table, a cold glass of diet cola cradled in her hands, got comfortable. It was going to be a great game.

      “Nice socks, Jen.”

      Jennifer admired the bright rainbow of colors on her feet. “I bought them for myself last Tuesday.” Right after I bought a very expensive dress to wear to a play you still don’t know I went to see.

      The sports page landed back in the basket with the rest of the paper. “There’s Grant,” Tom said, excited.

      They were playing in San Diego and it was a nice night there, low seventies, no wind. Perfect game conditions.

      It was a disappointing first quarter. The announcers explained away the repeated pass run, pass punt as the teams were feeling each other out. That was one way to describe it. Jennifer could think of a few others. If a receiver broke free and clear, the quarterback got sacked. If it was a good pass, the receiver dropped it. Punt returns consistently got stopped within five yards. The snacks started to disappear, but there was little excitement among the threesome watching the game.

      Tom disappeared into the kitchen at the end of the quarter in search of some ice cream.

      “Like a refill?” Peter gestured to the empty glass she was holding.

      Jennifer handed it to him. “Thanks. Let’s hope the second quarter is not quite so dead.”

      Peter smiled. “What is it they say about expectations? Low ones are the only kind that don’t lead to disappointment?” He handed back her refilled soda.

      “Very true,” Jennifer admitted. Her right hand slid up the back of her neck and massaged the tight muscles, lessening the pain building inside her head.

      “Here, Jennifer, give me back the glass and turn around.” Peter had seen the gesture.

      Jennifer handed him the glass and turned toward the fire. Peter gently massaged her shoulders. “You’ve been working too hard again.”

      “Hmm.” The massage felt great. Peter still needed a little practice before he would be as good as Jerry had been, but he wasn’t bad at all. “I completed twenty more pages today,” Jennifer said, dropping her head forward so Peter could work on her neck.

      “You are still planning to end the series?”

      “Yes.”

      “When was the last time you saw your doctor, Jennifer? These headaches are getting more and more frequent.”

      “Last month. He said to quit crying so much,” Jennifer replied, muffled.

      Peter’s hand worked along the vertebrae in her neck. “Still having bad nights?” he asked, concerned.

      Jennifer nodded. “Not as frequently, but yes, I’m still having bad nights,” she admitted. She gingerly rolled her head. “That’s much better, Peter. Thanks.”

      “Sure.”

      “Aunt Jen, do you have any of those chocolate sprinkles left?”

      “Try over the sink, Tom.” She looked over at her brother. “How in the world can he eat all that stuff