“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said.
Neither had she. Or had she? That would explain why right now she wanted to grab the front of his shirt, pull him close and kiss him again, for real. The mortifying thought set the tip of her nose on fire.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said. Liar.
They stood in awkward silence for a few beats and she wished she knew what he was thinking, but his expression gave nothing away.
“You’ll have to join us for Sunday dinner sometime.”
The invitation seemed to startle him. “Oh. Sure. Leaving my dad on his own for dinner will depend on what kind of day he’s having but...sure. We’ll play it by ear.”
“Right. I’m sorry, I forgot. I just thought, since Emily and Jack will be here, you might like to see them. And your father is welcome to come, too.”
Paul looked downright surprised by that suggestion. “He has a tough time now with new situations, new people. I’m afraid it might be too much for him. Maybe for everyone.”
“I see. I’m sorry.”
Paul shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “No need to apologize. It is what it is. I’ll see what I can do, though. It would be good to see Jack and Emily.”
“Do you have someone come in to look after him while you’re at the clinic?”
He shook his head. “He’s pretty good in the daytime, and Jack’s father drops in every day around lunchtime. If I can work something out with the Evanses, I’ll let you know.”
“We’d like that.”
“Okay, then. I’d better get going.” He pushed through the screen door and ran down the front steps to his car.
Annie stood on the veranda. She touched her fingertips to her lips as he drove down the driveway, onto River Road and out of sight.
* * *
PAUL DIDN’T REMEMBER a lot after that kiss. He recalled pulling out of the Finnegans’ driveway onto River Road. But his mind was a blur of images from the past and the present, so he had no recollection of making the drive to the Riverton Health Center. Yet here he was, parked in the space that, for years, had been reserved for Dr. Woodward. The name plate was now as worn and faded as the mind of the man who had parked his various Volvo sedans here over the past forty odd years. On Paul’s first morning here, Edna Albright, the clinic’s long-time office administrator, had declared how convenient it was for the health center that the sign didn’t have to be changed.
At the time, he had refrained from telling her that his being here was not a permanent solution. Coming home to care for his demanding, ungrateful father and cover for him at the clinic was meant to be a short-term fix. Eventually, the old man would move into a care facility, the clinic would find a permanent replacement for him and Paul would return to his position at the hospital in Chicago. He had been generously granted a one-year leave of absence. The clock was already ticking.
But being home meant being close to Annie, and he felt as though that brief kiss had already upset his carefully laid plans. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. She was his best friend’s wife. Strictly off-limits. For as long as he could remember, she had passively accepted his casual embrace, the light touch of his lips to her forehead. This morning, there had been a subtle, almost imperceptible change. This morning, she had altered the pattern by looking up at him, eyes awash with emotion, lips parted ever so slightly with an invitation he couldn’t have refused to save his life. And so he had kissed her, even though he hadn’t meant to. Now he couldn’t wait for an opportunity to do it again.
AFTER PAUL LEFT, Annie didn’t know what to do with herself. So she made more muffins—carrot-pineapple this time. Then she whipped up a batch of cream-cheese frosting to slather on them as soon as they had cooled. Baking was easy. Reconciling herself with that kiss was not. Her sensible side doubted she could ever face Paul again. Her closely guarded inner self couldn’t wait to see him. In spite of that one unexpected moment they had shared, she liked the feeling of actually...feeling. Having him care for Isaac yesterday had made her feel safe. Being alone with him this morning was like dropping a match in a tinder-dry hayloft. As exciting as the heat of these initial flare-ups might be, she needed to be careful not to burn down the barn.
She put on a fresh pot of coffee and while the scent of it filled the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of fresh baking, she iced the muffins and arranged them on a footed Depression glass cake plate. Soon her sisters would join her and she liked having everything ready before they arrived.
“Hello! I’m here.” Emily let herself in the front door and breezed into the kitchen as Annie poured boiling water over the decaf coffee grounds she had spooned into the bottom of a Bodum.
“Is that for me?” she asked, pulling Annie into a sisterly hug.
“It sure is.”
“You’re the best. I’ve been dying for a cup.”
“You do know there’s no caffeine in it.”
“Doesn’t matter. I let the smell and taste of it trick me into believing it’s the real thing.” Emily set her oversize bag on the counter. “I have something for you.”
“You do?”
“Remember when I asked you about writing a weekly column for my blog? And you said you’d give it a try at the end of the summer after Isaac was back in school?”
Right. The Ask Annie column. Annie had not forgotten, but she had hoped her sister would.
“Jack gave me a new camera for my birthday, and it’s amazing. You should see the photos it takes.” Emily ran a hand over her belly. “This will be the most photographed baby in the world.”
Annie smiled at her sister’s enthusiasm over a gift that other women might find overwhelmingly unromantic from a man who had recently proposed. Not Emily. Since childhood, she had dreamed of becoming a journalist. Now she was a reporter for the Riverton Gazette, and a popular blogger with a recently signed book contract.
Emily pulled her old camera out of her bag. “I thought you might like to have my old one. For illustrating the column, although you can use it for anything. Isaac’s birthday parties, school events, whatever.”
Annie eyed the camera suspiciously. “You said you wanted me to answer a question about running a busy household, a farm, a bed-and-breakfast. You didn’t say anything about taking pictures.”
“Oh. I guess you don’t have to. I thought you might like to.”
“I don’t know the first thing about photography.”
“That’s the beauty of the digital age. You don’t need to know anything. I’ve put all the settings to auto, which means that as long as the light is reasonably good, the camera will do all the work. You simply have to point and shoot.” Emily thrust the device into her hands.
Annie cringed as she studied the undecipherable symbols that presumably indicated what the various buttons and dials were for. “What do you want me to take pictures of?”
“Whatever you like. Whatever will work with the column you’re writing.”
“I’m not a writer, remember? I have no idea what I’m going to write about.”
“Fine. We’re calling the column Ask Annie. Would you like me to give you a question to answer?”
“I think you’ll have to.” For the life of her, Annie couldn’t think of anything she did from day to day that anyone else would want to read about.
Emily glanced around the kitchen as though pondering what to ask, and then her gaze settled on the kitchen window and beyond.