Matt's Family. Lynnette Kent
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Название: Matt's Family
Автор: Lynnette Kent
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Kristin didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Matt’s voice. “Kris, want to wake up? Dinner’s ready.”
She felt the stiffness of dried tears on her face as she opened her eyes. Matt leaned over her, his gaze tender, a faint smile just visible on his mouth through the dark. “I’ll make your apologies if you’d rather sleep,” he said. “You do look tired. Sadie’s been beating me up about that.”
Sadie had told him? Kristin sat up quickly, forcing Matt to straighten. “W-what did she say?”
“Just that I ought to think more about you and less about a bunch of dead soldiers.” He sat down beside her and put a hand on her knee. “And she’s right. I’ve dragged you through enough history. We’ll find other things to do while we’re here—antique shops, national parks, whatever. We could go in to Philadelphia for a play, or some museums. What do you say?”
Tears threatened yet again. She remembered crying through the first three months of expecting Erin, and then Jenny. Luke would have recognized what was happening.
Thank God, Matt didn’t. Yet.
“That’s sweet, Matt. Maybe we can do some of that, too.” She slipped out from underneath his hand and crossed to the dressing table. Opening her purse, she pulled out the comb and makeup she’d bought in Fredericksburg. “But I think we should stick to your original plan. You’ve waited a long time to see these places.” Kristin switched on the glass-shaded lamp and turned to face him, hoping the powder hid her secret as well as the tear tracks.
Matt studied her from across the room. Something had changed. He’d seen her just an hour ago, but he was now looking at a different woman. “Everything okay?”
She gave him a smile—that tilt of her mouth that substituted for a real expression these days. “Still a little groggy, I admit. What did you and George do while I was being lazy?”
“They’ve got a little pond out back. We watched a couple of worms do water aerobics.” He felt more and more as if he were part of a play, saying lines written for him by someone else. “We can walk down there after dinner. It’s a pretty place.”
“Sounds good. Shall we go down and get some fried chicken?”
Matt stood up, feeling weary himself. “After you. I hear there’s strawberry shortcake for dessert.”
Kristin laughed as she left the room. “I may be shopping for a size larger clothes before we leave.”
With Sadie and George at the table in the dining room, dinner conversation kept up a comfortable pace.
“Our three daughters still live in Georgia,” Sadie volunteered as she passed the mashed potatoes. “George and me wanted to get out of the heat, so we headed north when he retired from the railroad. The girls and their fam’lies come at Christmas and the end of the summer. With all their younguns—nine grandkids in all—twice a year’s plenty.” She surveyed the table. “I’d better get another pitcher of tea. You folks go ahead.”
As the door to the kitchen closed, George turned to Kristin. “Your man here says you two have little girls of your own.”
Kristin smiled and helped herself to a piece of chicken. “Yes, sir. Erin’s almost eight and Jenny’s five.”
“He’d showed me a pi’ture. Pretty things. Thinking about havin’ another one, are you?”
Matt, watching, saw Kristin freeze, then swallow hard. After a measurable second, she finished cutting a slice of tomato. “Maybe in a little while. The girls are getting too old to be babied.”
“And you’ve got a lot of babyin’ left over, that it?”
She nodded, chewing.
George nodded, too. “My Sadie was that way. We had them three girls, but she said we were gonna try again, see if we could get us a boy.”
“And did you?” Matt asked, as Kristin took a sip of tea.
“We did.” Sadie came back into the dining room. “Andrew George Chisholm. Andy. Cutest little rascal there ever was. Always up to somethin’.” She rounded the table, refilling glasses. “But he was born with Down’s syndrome. His heart was weak, and it just plain wore out when he was nineteen.” She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Ten years ago, that was. We still miss him, don’t we, George?”
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