why did she feel so guilty?
By the time they’d gotten back to the farm, it was suppertime and Troy’s blood was boiling as hot as the pot of pasta on the stove.
Did Angelica have to make her date plans right in front of him? And with Buck Armstrong?
But it wasn’t his business, and he had no reason to care. He just needed some time to himself.
Which apparently he wasn’t going to get, because the minute they set down their things, Xavier was pulling at his hand. “Mr. Troy, Mr. Troy, we’re all going to have dinner together!”
Great. He smiled down at the boy. How was he going to get out of this?
“Xavier, honey.” Angelica knelt down beside her son. “We’ll have dinner at the bunkhouse. We can’t impose.”
She tugged the ponytail holder out of her hair, and the shiny locks flowed down her back. Her hand kneaded Xavier’s shoulder. She was all loving mother.
And all woman.
“But, Mama! Wait till you see what Miss Lou Ann and me cooked!”
Lou Ann rubbed Xavier’s bald head. “I’m sorry, Angelica. I told him we could probably all eat together. We picked zucchini and tomatoes from the garden and cooked up some of that ratatouille.”
“And we made a meat loaf, and I got to mix it up with my hands!”
The boy sounded so happy. Troy’s throat tightened as he thought about how Angelica must feel, cherishing every moment with him and wondering at the same time whether he’d ever make meat loaf again, whether this was the last chance for this particular activity.
Angelica glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “Maybe we’ll get together another time. Mr. Troy’s been working all day and he’s tired. Let’s let him rest.”
What was he supposed to do now, squash down all of this joy? And he had to admit that the thought of having company for dinner in the farmhouse kitchen didn’t sound half-bad, except that the pretty woman opposite him was hankering after another man.
At the thought of Angelica dating Buck Armstrong, something dark twisted his insides. With everything he knew about Buck, he should warn her off, and yet it would serve her right to go out with him and find out what he was really like.
“Can we stay, Mr. Troy?”
He looked at the boy’s hopeful eyes. “Of course.” His words sounded so grudging that he added, “Sounds like a good meal you fixed.”
“It is good, and wait till you see dessert!”
By the time Xavier helped Lou Ann serve dessert—sliced pound cake, topped with berries and whipped cream—he looked beat. But his smile was joyous. “I had so much fun this afternoon, Mama!”
Troy praised the food, which was really good, thanks he was sure to Lou Ann’s guidance. But his stomach was turning, wouldn’t let him really enjoy it.
Angelica looked beautiful at the other end of the table, her black hair tumbling down past her shoulders and her cheeks pink as apples. And now, with Xavier so happy, she didn’t seem as worried as usual; the little line that tended to live between her eyebrows was gone, and her smile flashed frequently as Xavier described all that he and Lou Ann had done that day.
Troy had always wanted this. He wanted a warm, beautiful woman and cute, enthusiastic children at his table, wanted to be the man of the family. And this sweet, feisty pair seemed to fit right into his home and his heart. But he had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t his and it wouldn’t last.
Looking at Xavier, he couldn’t believe the child had been so sick and might relapse at any moment. Yeah, he was drooping, getting tired, but he was so full of life that it made no sense that God might take him away.
Any more than it made sense that God would put him and his siblings in a loveless family, let alone give Angelica all the heartaches she’d endured growing up, but that was God for you—making sense wasn’t what He was about. That was why Troy had stopped trusting Him, starting taking most things into his own hands. He believed, sure; he just didn’t trust. And he sure didn’t want to join the men’s Bible study his friend Dion was always bugging him about.
“This little one needs to get to bed,” Lou Ann said. “Troy, I know you can’t carry much with those crutches, but why don’t you at least help her with the doors and such?”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” Angelica stood, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “We’ve already taken too much of your time. We can make it.”
But Troy moved to intercept her protest. “Come on, pal. Let’s get you out to bed.”
Angelica started gathering Xavier’s pills and toys and snacks together, stuffing them into a Spider-Man backpack. Before she could bend to pick Xavier up, Troy leaned on one crutch, steadied himself with a hip against the table and picked up the boy himself. He was amazingly light. He nestled right against Troy’s chest and Troy felt his heart break a little. He glanced over at Angelica and saw that she had tears in her eyes. “Ready?” he asked. Then, gently, he put her son in her arms, taking the boy’s backpack to carry himself.
She bit her lip, turned and headed off, and he grabbed his crutches and followed her. They walked out to the bunkhouse together and Troy helped Angelica lay Xavier in his bed, noticing the homey touches Angelica had put around—a teddy bear, a poster of a baseball player, a hand-knitted afghan in shades of blue and brown. It was a boy’s room, and it should be filling up with trophies from Little League games. They said every kid got a trophy these days, and wasn’t that awful? But not Xavier. This kid hadn’t had the opportunity to play baseball.
Not yet.
Angelica knelt beside the bed. “Let’s thank God for today.”
“Thank You, God, for letting me cook dinner. And for Lou Ann. And the dogs.”
Angelica was holding Xavier’s hand. “Thank You for giving us food and love and each other.”
“Bless all the people who don’t have so much,” they said together.
“And, God, please get me a daddy before...” Xavier trailed off, turned over.
Whoa. Troy’s throat tightened.
“Night, sweetie, sleep tight.” Angelica’s voice sounded choked.
“Don’t let the bedbugs... Love you, Mama.” The words were fading off and the boy was asleep.
They both stood looking down at him, Troy on one side of the bed and Angelica on the other.
“Did he say he wants a...dad?” Troy ventured finally.
Angelica nodded.
“Does his dad ever spend time with him?”
She looked up at him. “No. Never.”
“Does he even know him?”
Her lips tightened. “I... Look, Troy, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Sure.” But he’d like to strangle the guy who’d loved and left her, and not just because he remembered how difficult it had been to keep his hands off Angelica back when they were engaged. He took a deep breath and loosened his tightly clasped fists. She’d gotten pregnant with Xavier right around the time she left town, so was Xavier’s dad—the jerk—from here or from elsewhere? She hadn’t married him, apparently, but... “If the guy knew Xavier, knew what he was like and what he’s facing, surely he’d be willing—”
“No.”
“No?”
“Just...no, okay?” She stood and stalked out to the living