Wanted: A Real Family. Karen Rose Smith

hair curled against his tan skin. She remembered the scars on his shoulder, the line across his stomach where bullets had almost been the death of him. A field doctor at the refugee camp had done emergency surgery and saved his life under awful conditions. Yes, Jase was lucky to be alive. She knew what the experience had cost him—the notes were in his medical records.

      Amy suddenly came running in and wrapped her arms around Sara’s legs. It was a relief to take her attention away from Jase and give it to her daughter. Her first and foremost concern always had to be Amy. “What’s up, Bitsy Bug?”

      “I’m not a bitsy bug. I’m Amy.”

      Sara hugged her daughter. “Did you get lonely out there?”

      “I want to see my room.”

      “We can do that. It’s not completely ready yet. Maybe you can help me make the bed.”

      “Can Mr. Jase help, too?” Amy looked up at Jase with a wide smile, obviously accepting him into her world. That sweet roll had gone a long way, but his attitude had, too. He didn’t just tolerate Amy, he conversed with her. He got down on her level. A kid could smell a phony a mile away and Jase was no phony.

      “I’m sure Mr. Cramer has so many more things to do than help make your bed.”

      Jase shrugged. “I took the morning to help. Let’s go see what your room looks like.” He held out his hand to Amy.

      Her daughter didn’t hesitate to take it. Jase was so tall, and Amy, so small. Living on the Raintree Winery property, just how often would they see him?

      There was a single bed in Amy’s room with a white wood headboard. The short dresser had a child-sized mirror hanging above it. Beside the bed, someone had unfolded a latch-hook rug with adorable kittens scampering on it. A sealed package of new pink sheets, a soft pink blanket and a pink-and-white gingham spread with ruffles lay at the foot of the bed.

      “I like pink,” Amy said as if wondering why her mother was hesitating. The truth was, Sara’s throat felt thick and her chest a little tight. Someone had done this for her daughter and she was so thankful for that.

      Without her saying a word, Jase seemed to understand. He unfolded the spread and laid it over the wooden rocking chair by the side of the bed. Patting the mattress, he said to Amy, “Try it out. See what you think. You shouldn’t jump on it, but you can bounce a little.”

      Forgetting her mom for the moment, Amy crawled up onto the bed and bounced up and down. “It’s soft.”

      Jase had already ripped open the package of sheets. He flipped the pillowcase to Amy. “See if you can put the pillow in that. It will be a big help.”

      After Amy jumped off the bed, Sara helped her daughter stuff the pillow into the fabric. By then, Jase had the bottom sheet spread on the bed and tucked in.

      “Do this often?” Sara teased.

      But he said casually, “I’m used to setting up camp. This isn’t all that different. It’s sort of like riding a bike. You never forget how.”

      “When you were a kid and living here, I bet you didn’t have to make your own bed.”

      A shadow crossed Jase’s face. She’d seen those shadows before when he was remembering something he didn’t want to remember. She could understand that with regard to his injuries and his broken engagement, but with regard to his childhood?

      “The housekeeper took care of that.”

      “Does your father have help with the house now?” Certainly, he must.

      “We have a cook who comes in three times a week. She prepares food and makes sure the refrigerator’s stocked. A cleaning lady also comes in once a week. As I said, my father didn’t particularly like someone else around all the time.”

      “But he agreed to let me stay here because it’s temporary.”

      “Something like that.”

      She laid the pillow on the bed, then lightly touched his forearm. “Because you convinced him.”

      “I don’t want you to worry about what my father thinks.”

      “But I do.”

      “My father dislikes any change, so don’t take his attitude personally. He’s used to Liam coming and going over the winery. He’ll get used to you and Amy, too. He’s a solitary man, Sara. He has a couple of close friends but everyone else is a business contact.”

      She wondered what Jase was trying to tell her, but Amy was tugging on her arm and she knew her daughter would soon be needing lunch.

      “Can I have some juice? I’m thirsty.”

      “I think I saw some boxes of apple juice in one of the bags. How about one of them?” Jase asked. “Come on, let’s go get one while your mom finishes the bed.”

      Whatever Jase had been trying to tell her, the moment was gone now. If she knew more about Ethan Cramer, maybe she and Amy wouldn’t have to tiptoe around him.

      As Jase and Amy left the room and Sara picked up the spread, she realized she wanted to know more about Jase. But curiosity could get her into deep trouble.

      Jase stepped out of the storage shed beside the winery the next day, toolbox in one hand, a toy store bag in the other. Earlier, he had seen Sara leave with Amy and guessed she was going to church first thing on a Sunday morning. She’d returned a little while ago and he had some repairs to make on the cottage, a few details he hadn’t noticed before she’d moved in.

      He should stay away from her … he really should. Her husband had only been gone a year and she was vulnerable now, after losing her home. But there was something about Sara that made him want to be around her. Chemistry? Sure, that was part of it. He wasn’t in denial. She turned him on. A woman hadn’t done that in a long time. But there was something else, too. Something to do with the way she looked at the world.

      Still, he was going to keep his distance. That was best for both of them. When he knocked on the door to the cottage and Sara opened it, she looked surprised. “Jase, hi. We just got back from church and changed clothes.”

      Uh-huh, he’d been right. She’d changed into a flowered blouse and yellow shorts that complemented it. She’d braided her hair at both temples and looked more like a teenager than a thirty-year-old physical therapist.

      “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Yesterday I noticed the screen door is off center a bit and the windows in the bedroom won’t open without a lot of effort. Do you mind if I fix them while I have the time?”

      “No, I don’t mind. I did have trouble opening Amy’s window this morning. Come on in. We’re still trying to make it our own.” She pointed to Amy who was coloring on the coffee table. “She’s drawing some pictures to hang in her room. If that’s okay. I can get those sticky things for the walls so I don’t make holes.”

      “Make all the holes you want. They can be patched.” He glanced at the bag in his other hand, leaned close to Sara and said in a low voice, “I have something for Amy. I know she lost most of her toys. Do you mind if I give it to her?”

      “You didn’t have to do that.”

      “I know, but I want to. I bought it last week after I knew you were going to move in.”

      There was something close to admiration in Sara’s eyes, and he was surprised how that filled him with a sense of satisfaction.

      “Can you come here a minute?” Sara called to her daughter.

      Amy looked up, saw Jase and smiled shyly.

      “I found a friend for you,” he said to her. “He barked at me when I passed him in the store.”

      Amy’s eyes widened. “He did?”

      Most kids were innocent. They could believe so easily. “Reach into the bag