The Road to Reunion. GINA WILKINS

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      He shrugged. “If I do—I’ll find some company. In the meantime, I’m considering what to do now that I’m out of the Marines earlier than I’d planned.”

      It sounded as though he had planned to retire from the military. “Do you have any other ideas yet?”

      “A couple.”

      When it became clear that he wasn’t going to expand on that, she spoke again. “Do you plan to stay here in Tennessee or will you go back to Texas eventually?”

      “There’s nothing for me in Texas,” he said bluntly. She tried to recall what she had been told about his past. She remembered that his mother had died when he was a teenager, and that he’d had no other family willing to take him in. She didn’t know anything about his father.

      She thought he’d been assigned to a couple other foster homes before he’d come to the ranch. Cassie had said that Kyle was never a behavioral challenge, just so deeply withdrawn and introverted that his social worker had thought it would do him good to be placed with the easygoing and gregarious Walker family.

      “When will you—”

      “I thought you said there was just one more question,” he cut in before she could finish asking more about his plans for the future.

      “Sorry. I’m just curious about you,” she admitted. He grabbed his breakfast dishes and stood, his chair rattling against the floor. “Trust me. I’m not that interesting.”

      She didn’t believe that for a minute. But she knew when to back off—at least, for now—so she pushed the rest of her questions to the back of her mind and gathered her own plate and fork. “Please let me do the dishes. It’s the least I can do to repay you for your hospitality.”

      He looked for a moment as though he was going to argue, but then he nodded shortly. “Fine. Just leave them in the drainer to dry. I’ll put them away later.”

      He didn’t stay to keep her company while she worked. A few minutes later, she heard the television come on in the other room. It sounded as though he had tuned in a cable morning news program. She wouldn’t have thought he was the type to be interested in politics. Maybe he would just prefer to listen to the Senate majority leader than to deal with any more of her questions.

      The kitchen was spotless when she had finished. She tossed a damp paper towel in the trash can beneath the sink, unable to find an excuse to delay any longer. She might as well be on her way. She had a long trip ahead of her today.

      She had just walked into the living room where Kyle was settled into his usual chair when someone knocked on the front door. Trying to hide her curiosity, she perched on the couch while Kyle crossed the room to answer. A stocky, gray-haired man stood on the doorstep, holding a large cardboard box in his hands.

      “Morning, Kyle.”

      Kyle didn’t seem surprised by his caller’s identity. “Morning, Mack.”

      “I told Jewel I was coming up to see if you rode out the storm okay, and she sent a couple of casseroles for you to put in your freezer.”

      Kyle reached for the box. “Tell her thanks for me. She knows I’ll enjoy them.”

      “Her cooking has put a couple of pounds back on you, but not near enough,” the older man observed, eying Kyle critically.

      Molly frowned. Kyle had gained weight? Wow, how thin had he been before?

      “Come in, Mack, while I set these in the kitchen.” Kyle stepped out of the doorway, and Molly wondered if she was correct in thinking he did so a bit reluctantly.

      “I wouldn’t turn down a cup of that herbal tea you like so much. It’s right chilly this morning.” Mack had gotten all the way into the living room before he spotted Molly. “Well, hello.”

      She stood, giving him a friendly smile. “Hi.” “Molly Walker—Mack McDooley.” Apparently considering the introduction complete, Kyle disappeared into the kitchen with the casseroles.

      Looking in the direction in which Kyle had just disappeared, Mack chuckled wryly before turning back to Molly. “Kyle’s not much for conversation.”

      Molly laughed softly. “No, he’s not.”

      Waving her to the couch, Mack took the nearest recliner and crossed his right leg over his left knee, looking completely at home. He wore a gray plaid cotton shirt and neatly pressed jeans with black socks and brown suede shoes. His skin was weathered, and his eyes were as gray as his hair and brows.

      Molly guessed his age to be early to midsixties— maybe a couple of years older than her own father. Also like Jared, this man looked as though he was no stranger to strenuous physical labor.

      “So, have you known Kyle long?” Mack asked, using a jovially paternal tone probably meant to soften the blatant curiosity behind the question.

      “Since I was a child, actually.”

      “Really.” That had obviously taken him aback. “I didn’t think Kyle had any living family members.”

      “Oh, we’re not family—exactly.” Because she wasn’t sure how much Kyle told anyone about his past, she wasn’t comfortable mentioning that he’d once been in foster care. “Just friends.”

      “I see.” But he obviously did not.

      Figuring one good question deserved another, Molly asked, “Are you Kyle’s neighbor?”

      “Not exactly. I live in Gatlinburg with my wife, Jewel. She just about fretted herself silly last night worrying about Kyle up here alone in that storm. She was half convinced a tree fell on him during the night, crushing him in his sleep.”

      “Jewel shouldn’t worry so much,” Kyle said, coming back into the room. “It isn’t good for her.”

      Mack reached for the steaming cup of tea Kyle offered. “You know how she is. Especially when it comes to you.”

      Though he hadn’t asked if she wanted one, Kyle had brought tea for Molly, too. He handed her the mug, then settled into his recliner. She noted that he hadn’t brought tea for himself, and that he sat rather stiffly, self-conscious in his role as host—a role she would bet he didn’t play very often.

      She was almost squirming with curiosity now. She wouldn’t have expected Kyle to make friends like this in his relatively short time living in this area. As introverted and grumpy as he tended to be, she certainly wouldn’t expect him to be all-but-adopted by a local couple.

      No, there was obviously more to this relationship than a recently instigated friendship. “Your wife sounds like my aunt Layla,” she said in what she hoped was a subtle attempt to learn more. “She’s the official worrier in our family—and it’s a very large family, so we keep her busy all the time.”

      She was guiltily aware that Layla would have hysterics if she knew about Molly’s long, solitary drive to eastern Tennessee. Of course, Layla would have to stand in line behind Molly’s parents, brother and a couple dozen other relatives to yell at her for her reckless trek. And if СКАЧАТЬ