His Holiday Family

“Sorry.” Kip began to put his slices back.

“Leave them. You’ve already put them on your plate, but next time one piece at a time. I expect you two to eat every last bite of what you have on your plate.” Lord, give me patience. “Remember your manners. We have a guest tonight.”

Both of her sons hung their heads but exchanged narrow-eyed glances.

“Jared, it’s your turn to say the blessing.” Kathleen uncurled her hands.

“Bless this food. Amen.” Jared jerked up his head, grabbed his first piece and took a big bite.

When Gideon reached for a slice of Canadian Bacon, her favorite, Jared’s gaze fixed on his cast on his left arm that came down to his wrist but allowed him the use of his hand.

“No one has signed your cast,” he said with a full mouth of food. Kathleen gave him the look, and Jared immediately chewed his pizza and swallowed before adding, “I’ve got most of my friends to sign mine at school. Annie wanted to, but I wouldn’t let her.” He held up his arm as though he had a trophy in his grasp.

“Why not?” Gideon poured some iced tea into his glass.

“A girl? No way. I would never hear the end of it.” Jared’s mouth pinched together, and he tilted his head in a thoughtful look. “Can you work with that cast? I’m having trouble doing things with mine.”

A fleeting frown flitted across Gideon’s features. “Not where I want to be. I’ll be stuck behind a desk at headquarters until this comes off.”

“I have to wear mine for six weeks. How about you?”

“Seven or eight weeks.”

“Bummer,” Kip said, pulling Gideon’s attention to him. “That sounds boring.”

“Yep. But I’m not much use to the team with only one arm fully functioning. That’s why it’s important to be as careful as you can, so you don’t end up in a situation like this.” Gideon tapped his cast. “Not fun.”

“Can I sign your cast? I want to be the first.” Kip jumped up and headed for the desk to retrieve a red marker.

“Sure. I noticed it was a little bare after seeing yours, Jared.”

“Can I sign yours, too? I’ll let you do mine.”

Kathleen relaxed back against the chair while the boys wrote their names on Gideon’s cast. As he searched Jared’s cast for a blank space to put his signature, her throat tightened. Lately her two sons hadn’t done anything together without launching into a fight. When Kip finally spotted a place for Gideon to scribble his name, Kathleen lowered her head and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. How could she let something as simple as this get to her?

Chapter Three

Later that evening, with darkness beyond the porch light, Kathleen drew in a deep breath of the cool air with a salty tang to it. The Gulf of Mexico was one block away. She could almost hear the waves crashing against the shore. When she got a chance, she loved to run on the beach early in the morning before the town woke up. It had become her haven since she’d come back to Hope.

Still in her scrubs from work, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “It’s starting to finally feel like fall some. I’d gotten used to having four seasons in Colorado.”

Gideon came up behind her and leaned back on the railing. “I’m going to hate seeing October end next week. It’s one of my favorite months. In the middle of football season. Not as oppressively hot as in the summer. But I’ll take that over cold weather any day. I’m a New Orleans native—hot and muggy is what I’m used to.”

“Jared and Kip won’t like the fact it rarely snows here. When I was growing up in Hope, it only did once. An inch. Shut down the whole town for a day until it melted.”

“Do they know that?”

“I’m not telling them.”

The sound of his chuckle filled the space between them, warming Kathleen. His gaze roamed over her features and for a few seconds wiped all thoughts from her mind, except the man who had shared a dinner with them and entertained her sons with stories about his job. Kip had hung on every word Gideon had said. Even Jared had listened until he couldn’t sit still any longer. He’d lasted fifteen minutes, five minutes longer than usual.

“Thanks for bringing the pizzas over. You’re a big hit with my sons.”

“They’re good kids.”

She opened her mouth to agree with him when she heard a scream then, “Mom!”

She rushed into the house and hurried down the hallway, Gideon right behind her. Past calamities caused by her sons zipped through her thoughts. Jared ran out of his bedroom with Kip on his heels. Her older son tackled his brother to the floor.

“You’re dead meat. How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my stuff?” Kip sat on Jared’s chest, pinning his brother’s arms to the carpet with his knees. He raised his hands and balled them.

“Kip, get off Jared.”

Kip flashed her a scowl, his fists still hovering over Jared’s face. “He tore up my notebook. I had my homework in it for school tomorrow.”

Kathleen settled her hand on Kip’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.”

“But, Mom, I’ve got to do my homework over. It’s all torn up. It was hard. I hate math, and now I’ve got to figure it all out again.”

Gideon stepped into Kip’s line of vision. “You know I’m pretty good with math. I’ll help you while your mom and Jared have a talk.”

Kip’s eyes grew round. “You will?”

Gideon nodded.

“I’ll get my book. There’s paper in the desk in the kitchen.” Kip bounced once on his brother’s stomach, which produced a grunt from Jared, then stood.

Scrambling to his feet, Jared grimaced, holding his middle. “Mom, did you see him? He hurt me. On purpose.”

Kathleen waited to answer him until Kip and Gideon disappeared down the hallway, then she whirled to face Jared. “You used your brother’s school notebook to make paper wads?”

He suddenly found a spot on the floor by his feet extremely interesting. Scuffing his tennis shoe against the carpet, he murmured, “He hadn’t finished his homework. He only had four problems done. He’d told Nana he had done more than he had after school.”

“That’s not the point. You have to respect your brother’s things.”

Jared lifted his head. “I want my own room like I had in Colorado. I hate sharing with him. He’s always bothering my stuff. He always has to be first. He always has to have the last word.”

“That isn’t going to happen anytime soon.”

“Why did we move here? I hate this place. I miss my friends.” Tears glistening in his eyes, he curled his fingers into tight balls, his face screwed up into a frown.

“I had to sell our house in Colorado. We needed a place to live. I grew up here, and I thought you all would enjoy it like I did.”

The frown deepened into a scowl. “You’re a girl. All my friends are back home. Not here.”

“You’ve got friends. How about Charlie down the street? How about the kids who signed your cast?”

A teardrop shone on his eyelash then rolled down his cheek. He knuckled it away. “It’s not the same.” He spun on his heel and raced into his room, throwing himself on his bed and burying his face in his pillow.