Page 44 of Hide My Heart
As his belly fills, his eyes close and his mouth slackens. I kiss the top of his head and wrap him up in a blanket, then lay him on the bed against the wall.
“I’ll always keep you safe. I’ll always love you and pray for you.” I bow my head and close my eyes, asking God to extend his hand of protection over my little one. I don’t want him to ever know fear, hunger, or loneliness.
Nate is waiting for me right outside the bedroom when I finish tucking Beck in.
“I kept the stew simmering,” he says. “I’m sure it’s thickened and real tasty by now.”
“My mouth is watering.” I fall in step with him, walking slightly in front of him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand on the small of my back makes me feel cared for, like I belong in his life.
He pulls the chair for me and bends down, kissing the side of my face lightly. I look up after him as he goes to the stove and ladles two large bowls of stew. He sets them on the table.
We butter our bread and say our prayers, then after he pours me a cup of grape juice, we toast each other.
“To friendship,” I say, wishing I could add, and to love.
“To us,” he says simply, clinking my glass with his. “And to family.”
“Yes, family,” I agree and get a twinge deep in my belly. I’d rather not think about my parents right now, so I say, “To your mother, for being so awesome.”
He chuckles and takes a swallow of the juice. “I don’t know if she’s awesome or that she’s been waiting for good news so long that she’s latched onto Beck like a drowning man to a lifeboat.”
“Well, then, to good news,” I add. “I’m glad Beck makes her happy.”
“He’s a good baby,” Nate says. “I can tell my mother was enjoying her grandma role. She couldn’t wait to show off. She even wanted to go to church.”
“Wow, unbelievable,” I tease. “A Riley darkening, or should I say lightening, the doors of our church would be the same as a McKay hanging out at the Bluebird.”
“There’s always a first.” Nate reaches across the table and weaves his fingers with mine. “Our families don’t have to be at loggerheads.”
“Except they aren’t going to give up with the ‘wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.’”
“True, and my mom’s not giving up the Bluebird,” Nate says. “Hey, at least the Redbird’s not in the red-light district.”
“Lord, have mercy!” I chuckle and get caught up in the gaiety of the moment.
The rest of the dinner is sparkling and scintillating, if I may use the big words I picked up from reading fictional romances. The candlelight, the food, the light banter and the handsome man sitting across from me, touching me or holding my hand to make a point—all of this is new to me and different.
I’m alternately tongue-tied, stammering and shy when he looks at me a certain way, and then the next moment, I’m back to my giddy self as we laugh over an old joke, or remember something from before.
After we’ve eaten and cleaned the dishes, Nate puts his arm around me and we walk to the living room. My tummy is so full, I sink onto the couch and lie back, staring at the fire in front of us.
There’s no TV, and he’s turned off the radio. No new news anyway, and it gets tiring listening to all the repeats about the weather. It’s strangely silent outside as the snow falls, blanketing us in our own white cocoon.
“We can read a book or play cards,” I suggest. My eyelids are heavy, but I feel so good just sitting and relaxing.
“I’d rather do something else,” he murmurs, his nose in my hair and his breath tickling the nape of my neck.
I’m obviously no longer an innocent, given my time away from home, but then again, this is different and I still feel shy.
I don’t know how to answer him, but I also don’t want this to end. I can sit forever by his side and stare into the fire together.
He starts playing with my hair, running his fingers through the tips and grazing my shoulder, and I feel like a cat, purring, wanting to rub myself against him.
I catch his other hand and lace my fingers with his, loving the way we slide together, grasping tenderly. He rolls his thumb over the back of my hand, sending sizzles up my arm and warming my entire body.
I lean against him and peer up at him. He’s looking at me with that intense focus like I’m the most important thing in his life.
How do I respond to that?
