Thankful (21 page)

Instead, he forced himself to continue to stare at the cooking sandwiches, as if the bread wouldn't toast if he wasn't there to watch it.

“Aden,” she whispered. “For a couple of days now, I've been waiting for you to bring something up.”

“And what is that?” he asked, kind of proud of the fact that he almost sounded unconcerned.

“You know what. Our kiss.”

No, it wasn't “kiss,” singular. It was
kisses
, plural. And with that small correction, the memory of how she'd felt in his arms, the way her lips had felt against his, returned in a flurry.

Not that the memory had ever been all that far from his thoughts. Swallowing hard, he felt his cheeks flush, whether from guilt or desire, he wasn't entirely sure.

He turned off the burner and pushed the pan toward the back of the range.

She stepped closer still. Now she was so close that her shoulder brushed against his arm. Close enough that if he wished, all he had to do was turn only the slightest bit in order to pull her to him.

“Aden, don't you think we should talk about what happened?”

His mouth went dry. And just like that, he realized he'd lost all control of the conversation. All he wanted to do was kiss her again. Right that minute. Right there in her parents' kitchen.

“Aden?”

“
Nee
,” he blurted.

“
Nee
, what?”

Had her voice become softer or was it only his imagination? He cleared his throat. “There's no reason to talk about, um, what happened. Because you and I both know it shouldn't have happened.”

“I think differently,” she countered. And then, before he could attempt to come up with anything else to say, she continued. “Actually I'm glad we kissed.”

“You are?”

“I am. Because, you see, that kiss . . . it wasn't brotherly, Aden. I was correct when I told Christy that I don't think of you as my brother. I never have. The way you kissed me proves that you don't think of me as a sister. Or even just as a friend.”

No, he definitely did not. But this wasn't news to him. “We have already agreed that was a mistake.”

“Do you really think it was?” Before he could answer, she continued, speaking a little faster, her words rolling one over the other off her tongue. Sliding into his consciousness. “Because you know what I think? I think it wasn't a mistake. I think you liked holding me in your arms, and I think I liked it, too.”

He hadn't liked holding her. He'd
loved
it.

But of course he couldn't admit that.

As he fumbled for the correct words, realizing that there were none, she smiled at him softly.

“Aden, I think everything that's been happening is all connected. I think that's why you're seeing that English nurse now. I think that's why you decided to move away. I think that's why you are glaring at suitable suitors and pulling me away from them.”

Feeling suddenly awkward and more than a little put on the spot, he grabbed a spatula and scooped up the two sandwiches from the skillet. “Grab me a plate, Christy.”

She handed him the plate, then smiled softly. “That's why you didn't like Christopher, isn't it? Because his nickname is what you usually call me.”

He was so flustered he feared that his hands were shaking as he arranged one of the sandwiches on the plate and then cut it into perfect squares. “Here is your sandwich.”

“Aden, I deserve an answer.”

So many words spun in his head. Excuses and lies. Secrets and valid reasons. He felt like he was living in the inside of a pinball machine he'd once seen in a train station, and petrified that he was going to blurt the wrong words and lose everything that was important to him.

“Yes,” he finally admitted.

She leaned back. Stared at him. “Yes to what?”

“Yes to everything. Yes to being jealous. Yes to wanting to hold you in my arms again. Yes to you being the only person in the world I want to call Christy. Yes, to everything, Christina,” he said, finally allowing himself to reveal every bit of frustration and pain.

“But the thing of it is, what I want doesn't matter, ” he added.

“Of course it does.”

“I don't think so. You and I can't have a future. I owe your parents everything. And they think of me as a son. I'm not going to repay their kindness by preying on their daughter,” he said adamantly, taking his sandwich and sitting at the table.

“Is that what you would be doing? Preying on me?” she asked, joining him at the table.

No. He would be loving her. Cherishing her. Taking care of her. Kissing her—and more.

“
Jah
,” he muttered, suddenly scraping back his chair and getting to his feet. And stomping off, leaving that grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich that always tasted so good on the plate. Untouched.

And he knew right then and right there that he would no longer be able to make another sandwich without thinking of her. Without thinking of her and remembering that he'd looked her in the eye and lied through his teeth.

chapter nineteen

The kitchen fell silent as the sounds of Aden stomping back to his room at the far end of the house faded into the distance. Sitting in front of the two plates loaded with perfectly cooked grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches, Christina was tempted to chase after him.

She didn't understand why he'd run off from their conversation, but she had an idea that a strong sense of fear had a lot to do with it. Aden was afraid for things between them to change.

Stewing on that, she pulled one of the plates closer, picked up one of the squares, and took a bite. Immediately, the sharp tang of brown mustard, combined with ham, creamy cheddar cheese, and buttered toast filled her senses.

No one could make a sandwich like Aden. She closed her eyes and took another bite.

For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had the upper hand in their relationship. Aden was filled with fear and doubts. She, on the other hand, felt only hope for their future.

They had a long, abiding friendship and a history of being there for each other. They'd survived her awkward years and his
rumspringa
. Surely they could survive this moment, too?

Quietly, she closed her eyes, intending to belatedly give thanks for the sandwich. Then she felt a soft wave of happiness rush through her. And she realized that the Lord was with her.

Once again He was with her, helping her realize that He was in control of things and He was the one who had chosen this to be the right time for them. The right time, and that they were the right two people to be together.

A giggle erupted, just as she was chewing the last square of her sandwich. Everything was going to turn out all right.

“Christina?” her mother said as she stepped into the kitchen and stared at her through a pair of bleary eyes. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Eating a grilled ham-and-cheese.”

Her mother turned to the stove and looked at the used—but unwashed—pan. Then at the sink, which contained the two knives.

And then at the untouched sandwich that Aden had left on the table.

“I should have guessed. I've certainly seen this evidence enough times.” She sat down. “Where is Aden?”

“He decided he wasn't hungry after all.”

Her mother's eyes brightened. “So no one is going to be having this one?”

“Only you, if you want it.”

“I would never pass this up.” After eating one of the squares in two bites, her mother said, “No one makes these like Aden. I'm going to miss him.”

“Me, too, Mamm.”

Holding a second square in her hand, her mother leaned her head back against the wooden rungs of the chair. “You know, I don't know how many times I've bought that boy ham, cheese, and that silly, fancy French mustard.”

“At least hundreds of times.”

“I know I've reminded him at least that many times to clean up his mess when he was done. He never learned.”

“Aden's a mess. He always has been,” Christina agreed.

“Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I'll listen for his steps in the middle of the night. My night is never complete unless I hear him opening up the refrigerator.”

“The nights are sure going to become real quiet.”

With a frown at the half of sandwich left on the plate, her mother stood. “You know what? I really shouldn't be eating so much in the middle of the night. I'm going to get indigestion or something.”

Hiding a smile, Christina murmured, “I'll wash the dishes before I go to sleep.”

With tears in her eyes, her mother shook her head. “Don't you dare. I've been washing up his mess for ten years. Tomorrow is going to be hard enough without not having that chore be the same.”

As Christina watched her mother walk away, she knew it was time for some drastic measures. She wanted—no, needed—Aden to finally realize that they were meant to be together. And she needed to do it while he still lived with them. If she waited until he moved into his new apartment, she was certain he would avoid her as much as he could.

Racking her brain, she could only think of one thing that would change his mind about leaving the house, and about loving her.

She just hoped she would be strong enough to actually follow through and do what needed to be done.

“Got, You've gotten me this far,” she whispered as she placed both plates on the counter by the sink. “I hope You know what You're doing, and that You're ready to watch over me real good. I need You now, because I know for sure and for certain that I can't handle what I'm about to do on my own.”

And then, at long last, she turned off the lantern and padded back to her room.

There, she could slide into her rumpled bed, listen to Treva snore, begin to plan, and maybe even to dream.

But before she did any of that?

She was going to give thanks.

J
ana had always thought she was far too practical a woman to care about red roses. They were expensive. Unnecessary. A bit clichéd. Maybe too grand a gesture.

But when Ross had shown up an hour ago with two dozen in his arms, she'd positively beamed.

Now, as they were sitting together in her sun room, she found herself gazing at those roses every couple of minutes. She'd put them in one of her favorite crystal vases. They looked beautiful and elegant. Special.

“I'm glad you like them, Jana,” he said with a smile.

She felt her neck flush. “You caught me. I'm sorry, I can't help myself. They are so pretty. And such a surprise.”

“If you want to know the truth, I kind of surprised myself. I was walking by Jones Florist and saw some in their refrigerator case and went on in. Bethany said you'd love them.”

Jana privately thought Bethany Jones would say anything she could to sell two dozen roses, but she didn't blame her one bit. If their situations were reversed, she probably would have done the same thing. “I do love them. Have I thanked you?”

“Only about five times.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. It was a familiar look now, one Jana privately called his “guy pose.” “So, are you ready?”

“For the big event?” She shook her head. “Nope.”

His tender look turned concerned. “You look worried. Are you?”

“A little.”

“Jana, what do you think is going to happen?”

“Well,” she said sweetly, enjoying their teasing conversation, “I think those four children of mine are going to descend on me like a quartet of locusts. And then they're going to turn on you. They're going to ask too many personal questions, watch you suspiciously, and then either ignore you or stay by your side.

“Come to think of it,” she added with a frown, “I should probably go ahead and apologize right now for their rudeness.”

He laughed. “I'll be able to take some difficult questioning. Even from kids. I am a cop, you know.”

“But my kids—especially when they're all together—can be kind of a handful.” Feeling mildly ashamed, she added, “I can't even believe I'm saying this. Aren't all mothers supposed to think their children are perfect? Or at least wonderful? Especially when they're grown and financially independent?”

He laughed again. “I'm sure they are wonderful. You're their mother, you know.”

This time she was the one chuckling. “That line is almost as great as my roses.”

“It wasn't a line. You are a special lady, Jana. I mean that sincerely.” Looking a bit more serious, he said, “I want to meet them. And I want to know them, and I want them to know me, Jana. If what we have continues, they're going to be seeing a whole lot more of me in the future.”

She knew his words weren't easy to say. As romantic as he was, he was also a bit skittish and reserved, especially when it came to relationships. He'd confided that he'd never imagined he would fall in love twice.

So she gathered her courage and said what was on her mind. “I want us to continue, Ross. I really do.”

Reaching out, he linked his fingers through hers. “Then we're going to get through the big event without a problem.”

“They're coming in two days.” Jana groaned. “I'm so excited to see them, but still so anxious.” She wanted the kids to like Ross and to support her new plans. She sincerely hoped nothing would happen to mess everything up.

“It's going to go okay, Jana. And even if it doesn't, we'll be okay.”

That promise made a world of difference. He was so right: Even if all kinds of problems happened, the two of them would still be okay.

“Just let me know when you want me to join you, Jana, and I'll be there.”

Looking at their linked fingers, she nodded, secretly wondering what he'd say if she admitted that part of her wanted him around the whole time.