Her grip tightened. “He ought to be flogged for that.”
A laugh bubbled out of my chest with a snort. “Flogged?”
Nancy’s chin jerked with indignation. “Or strung up by his toes.”
The wrinkles on her face deepened with annoyance, and I couldn’t help but sink into her embrace.
“When did that happen?”
My view of the ricotta-smeared bowls blurred. “I walked in on them two days before the lawyer called and told me Ida died. They’d started seeing each other when I came to visit when Ida first found me.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Pretty awful, huh?” And those few days I’d lived in my car in a box store parking lot made me shiver.
She sniffed. “The worst. I’m glad you told him off.”
Had I? At least I’d stood up to him. A tingle of satisfaction scurried through my heart. Maybe talking to Nancy hadn’t been a bad idea after all. Like when I’d talked to Ida, talking to her had a way of making me feel better rather than worse.
“He apologized. Wanted me to come back.”
Nancy grunted. “And what do you want?”
What did I want? Not Derick. At least I knew that much. But beyond that? Nancy gave me another squeeze, as though sensing her question contained more layers than I could answer at the moment.
“Something sure smells good in here.”
Nancy and I whirled in unison at the sound of Ryan’s voice.
His gaze darted from his mother to me and back to his mother again. Cords of muscle in his neck tightened. “Everything okay?”
Nancy pushed a perfectly placed strand of gray hair into the clip at the back of her head. “Girl talk, dear.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. He glanced at me again. “Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t let me bother y’all. I’m going to get cleaned up before supper.”
“What did you get figured out with the church?” Nancy left me at the sink and rounded the island, effectively shielding me from Ryan’s probing gaze.
Bless her. I took a calming breath and gathered myself, somehow feeling a little lighter than when I’d first stepped foot in Ryan’s kitchen. A feeling I didn’t think would diminish even though I planned to gorge myself on carbs.
They settled into an easy conversation about which church patrons would be taking loads of wood and which younger men would help chop and haul it. The homey scents of the kitchen and the warm conversation stirred a longing in me. Even when I lived with Derick, had our house ever felt like this? An intangible something wavered in the air. Something that brought a comforting sense of belonging.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but a desire to grab the sensation and hold on had me bunching the apron at my waist. Man, I must have reached a new level of pathetic. I turned on the water in the sink. Best keep my hands busy with the dishes.
Forty minutes later, the three of us settled around the oval table nestled in Ryan’s kitchen, a tray of perfectly golden lasagna, a side of toasted garlic bread, and—just to add the pretense of something healthy—a simple salad before us.
Ryan rubbed his hands together. “Looks fabulous, ladies. Thank you.”
Nancy grinned. “You’re welcome. Let’s eat.” But rather than digging into the food as she’d implied, Nancy bowed her head.
Right. Prayers. I followed suit and ducked my head. Waiting. As expected, a breath later Ryan’s smooth voice washed over us.
“Father, thank you for good food and good company. Please help Casey with the repairs for the house and help Mom feel better during her treatments. Which we ask to be successful. Please bless this food. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
I echoed my “amen” and watched Nancy as Ryan cut and served the lasagna. How many treatments would she need? How strong was her chemo? What had the doctor’s prognosis been? Each question nicked at my sense of security in this house. Would God strip another good woman away from the people who needed her? I could only imagine what that would do to Ryan.
But I knew one thing for certain. Tragedy, in one form or another, visited everyone. I could only hope cancer stealing his mother wouldn’t be on life’s agenda for Ryan. Each tired line in her face, each animated wave of her hand as she spoke, I studied. Was she exhausted? Putting on a show to hide it?
Did she lie about how bad the cancer really was, as Ida had?
“Don’t you think so, Casey?”
Ryan’s words jarred me out of my thoughts. “Uh, sorry. What?”
He leaned back in his chair and eyed me with amusement. I squirmed. Had I missed something important?
Nancy rolled her eyes. “He said you seemed like you were close to finishing your quilt for Ida, and that he thought Ida would like it if you showed it to me.”
“Oh.” I plucked at my cuticles under the table. Ryan didn’t read Ida’s letters, did he? I eyed him, but nothing about his relaxed posture and lazy smile said he danced with deception. Not the kind of guy to read someone else’s mail. “Yes. Actually, Ida said in one of her letters that she’d like me to show it to you.”
Nancy’s face lit, and warmth spread over me. I couldn’t fathom why these wonderful people seemed to take such an interest in me. But I wouldn’t look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. If it made both Ida and Nancy happy to see my attempt at quilting, I’d oblige.
“Wonderful. Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Not sure what time, though.” I glanced at Ryan. “Did you find out anything?”
He took another bite of salad and chewed thoughtfully. “Probably won’t get Bill out here until Monday. He’s knee-deep in the Mosleys’ pipe problem.” Sensing my question, Ryan smiled. “Bill’s our carpenter-slash-handyman-slash-electrician. He’ll be the best guy to give us a rundown of the costs.”
“Still no word on the insurance.” I rubbed a tense muscle in my neck. “How long is it safe to put off repairs?”
Ryan didn’t seem concerned. “The tarp is secure, and there’s no rain forecasted.” He rubbed a napkin over his mouth. “Everything will be fine.”
Except me. I was having a terrible time sleeping at night knowing I had a huge hole in my wall. And here I’d gone and gotten a cat instead of a guard dog. What was Kitty going to do? Swat at a burglar with declawed paws?
“This isn’t the big city, dear,” Nancy said, once again probing my thoughts. “I haven’t locked my doors in years.”
My eyes widened. She couldn’t be serious. “That’s not safe.”
“I told her the same thing.” Ryan pinned his mother with a look that said they’d had this conversation before. “But she’s lived out there forty years. There’s no convincing her otherwise.”
Nancy waved her hand. “You lived out there all your life. You know it’s perfectly safe.”
I caught her eye. “Please lock your doors. It would make me feel better.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Me too.”
Her gaze darted between us, bemused. “Fine. If it sets you two at ease.”
At least Nancy would be safe. Ryan would take good care of her as long as she stayed here, and once she went back to her own house, I felt sure she’d keep her promise.