A Family Christmas. Carrie Alexander

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      Lucy shrugged.

      “What does your dad say?”

      “’Bout what?”

      Does he like Danny? Is Danny his favorite? Is Danny happy? Does he get good grades, does he have a girlfriend? Does he ever wonder who his birth mother is?

      Rose gritted her teeth to keep all that back. “Does your dad think he has a good team this year?”

      “I dunno. If he yells at them a lot and blows the whistle too much, that means they are being bad.” Lucy giggled. “My dad says he wishes he had a whistle to stop me when I’m being bad.”

      Rose pretended to be shocked. “Don’t tell me you’re ever bad?”

      The girl quickly shook her head, her eyes gone wide as if she expected a scolding. “Not very much.”

      “That’s okay if you are, you know. I mean—” Rose held up two fingers “—just a smidgen.”

      Lucy still looked doubtful. “What’s a smidgen?”

      Rose smiled, bringing her fingers within an inch of each other. “About this much.”

      Lucy brushed her fingers off on her jeans and replicated the gesture with a look of dawning shrewdness. Rose hoped she hadn’t stepped out of bounds, giving allowances where she had no business. During their art lesson outdoors, she’d been struck again by Lucy’s timid obedience. It hadn’t seemed like a good thing, although some parents might beg to differ. Not Evan, judging by what he’d said the other day. He’d welcome a more emboldened Lucy.

      Out on the court, the scrimmage had ended. Evan gave the players a breather, then lined up a row of basketballs along the center line and had the boys perform a drill in which they ran a complicated pattern, picking up balls as they went.

      Light and quick on his feet, Danny finished first and ran off for the dressing room. Rose’s eyes followed him hungrily, even though Evan was climbing the bleachers toward her and Lucy and might notice her preoccupation. At the moment, that didn’t matter. She literally couldn’t tear her gaze away.

      Evan paused several steps below them, one foot propped on a bleacher seat. “How’s everything up here?”

      “Rose bringed Chips Ahoy,” Lucy said as she picked through the remaining crumbs.

      The locker room door swung back and forth as the other players entered. A few stragglers took their time, but soon the gym had emptied. Rose focused on Evan’s face and saw he was watching her. Damn. “Is that okay? I didn’t mean to ruin her supper.”

      “It’s fine. She usually has a snack after school.”

      “MaryAnn makes me eat icky food.” Lucy screwed up her face. “Like wrinkly fruit and crab cake.”

      Rose raised her brows. “Crab cake?”

      “Carob cake,” Evan said with a smile. “Lucy’s baby-sitter is a health-food nut. I mean a health-food enthusiast.”

      “I should have checked with you.” Rose winced. What a lousy caregiver she’d make. Might as well have poured raw sucrose down Lucy’s throat. No wonder the girl seemed so happy—know-nothing Rose had doped her up on sugar.

      “Doesn’t matter. She’ll live. It’s better than the burnt charcoal I give her at home.”

      “Huh?”

      “I’m a lousy cook.” Evan leaned closer to Lucy, propping his elbows on his upraised knee. “I can see that you two had a good time.” He smoothed his daughter’s hair. “Right, Luce?”

      She nodded happily. “Yeah, Dad.”

      His eyes went to Rose. “Thanks.” He straightened. “Are you willing to wait a few more minutes? I have to run into the locker room to check on the boys and get my wallet. I’ll be right back.”

      Rose nodded, filling with renewed anticipation. She might see Danny again when he came back out after showering. Maybe up close this time, if she hustled Lucy out of the bleachers.

      Evan’s low voice cut through her inner turmoil. “What is it? You’re radiant.”

      Radiant? She was unaccustomed to compliments. She drew back, feeling so shy it was as if he’d touched her with the same gentle care he’d shown Lucy. Or not the same. Maybe…more.

      He’d asked a question. What is it? She couldn’t answer that—no way.

      Instead she cleared her throat, prepared to prevaricate. “Must’ve been the cold air.”

      “Yes. It put roses in your cheeks.”

      Lucy had twisted around to stare. Softly, she singsonged, “Roses in Rose’s cheeks.”

      “Yeah, and yours, too, ladybug.” Though Evan spoke to Lucy while he backed down a few rows, he continued looking up at Rose.

      Her face wasn’t cold. It was flaming. If not for the second chance at Danny, Evan’s admiring appraisal would have sent her scurrying out the door. No man had looked at her like that since…since…

      She couldn’t remember. Maybe never.

      And he probably thought nothing of it. He was only being nice.

      Rose bit her lip, closed her eyes. She was not a normal woman. Couldn’t even respond to a guy’s offhand compliment without making it a big freakin’ deal.

      “Five minutes,” Evan said, and descended the remaining bleachers in big strides that made them rattle and clang.

      Rose rubbed her forearms, where goose bumps had risen despite the warm layers of her sweater and jacket. “Okay, Lucy. Let’s pack up.” She screwed the cap onto the Thermos.

      “You forgot the cup.”

      “Run down to the water fountain and rinse it out for me, okay?”

      “Okay.” Lucy carefully made her way down the bleachers on her bottom. By the time she reached the gym floor, Rose had repacked and zipped up, leaving out Lucy’s sketchbook. She grabbed it and trailed the girl to the water fountain, set into a niche in the wall between the doors that led to the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms.

      Lucy rinsed the cup, the tip of her tongue protruding between her lips as she concentrated. “Okay?” she said, shaking it dry.

      Rose exchanged the cup for the sketchbook. “You can take this home and show your dad what you drew today.” She wanted Evan to see that she’d given him good value, even though she wasn’t a trained artist or teacher. Lucy had been an eager and talented student, forgetting her inhibitions as she became absorbed in capturing various items and scenes. Before the cold October air had driven them inside, they’d drawn leaves, pine cones, ferns, and turned twig tracings into animal shapes.

      Lucy clasped the sketchbook. “What will we draw next time, Rose?”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ