Page 52 of Molly
“I’ll show you where the pots and pans are.” I growled at Molly when I found her still on her feet. “Lie back down.”
She rolled her eyes but obeyed, and I walked into the kitchen behind Lydia. The big soup pot was in the back of the cabinet, so I pulled it out for her. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
She lifted an onion and a couple of celery stalks from a bag. “Of course.”
“Make sure Molly gets plenty of fluids and rest. A fever is a physiological response to specific stimuli whereby prostaglandins bind in the median preoptic nucleus of the hypothalamus and induce thermogenesis to enhance immune cell efficiency.”
Lydia’s hand paused midair, and she looked up and speared me with her knowing gaze.
Why was I spouting off medical terminology? I swallowed. “What I mean to say is, Molly’s fever is just her body doing what it was created to do. If she gets too uncomfortable, a couple of Tylenol will help alleviate her symptoms, but just because she’s feeling better doesn’t mean she should over-exert herself. She needs rest.”
Lydia’s lips curled upward.
I pulled the neckline of my shirt away from my body. “Of course, you probably know that, having taken care of Molly during any number of childhood illnesses.”
“Go to work, Dr. Ben. I’ll take good care of both our girls.”
“Yes. Okay. Good.” I grabbed a Post-It note and scribbled on it. “Here are all the numbers where you can reach me. Please, don’t hesitate to call.”
17
Molly
“Is Chloe asleep?” I asked past the scratchy pain in my throat, scooting to sit up as Mom rounded the sofa.
“Yes.” She picked up my feet at the end of the couch, sat, then replaced them on her lap, tucking the blanket around my heels. “What a sweetheart she is. She thanked God for me in her prayers, even if that meant you couldn’t be a princess too.” She squeezed the instep of my foot. Not so much a massage as a motherly touch. “You know, I’ve never been one of those moms so desperate for grandbabies I’d pressure my kid into motherhood herself, but that girl in there sure has put some thoughts into my head.” She turned to look at me, a glint of mischief in the tilt of her lips.
I plucked a throw pillow off the floor and focused on separating out the individual strings of the tassels. Mom was fishing, but I would not be lured in by her bait. It wasn’t as if she’d asked a direct question that I could evade by simply not responding.
“Have you and Ben talked since the kiss?”
Aaaaand there it was. An uncomfortable knot formed in my belly. “No.” I burrowed deeper into the couch. “I’ve been trying to be patient. Give him time and space to figure out if he’s ready or even interested at all in a relationship with me.”
“Oh, he’s interested.”
My head snapped up. Had he said something? “How do you know?”
Her grin turned sly. “A grown man does not stammer in front of a girl’s mother unless he has some sort of feelings for said girl. He also seemed very reluctant to leave you since you aren’t feeling well.” She patted my shin. “Don’t worry. I think your wait will come to an end soon.”
My stomach rolled. Due to my illness, or the thought that Ben and I might finally stop dancing around each other and come together for an elegant waltz…or a passionate tango? My cheeks heated. I’d thought, maybe, earlier in the day, he’d say something. His gaze had seemed to dip to my lips and his body practically hummed with tension. But then he’d backed away, his mouth closed against all the thoughts he’d kept locked in his beautiful mind.
Mom moved my legs back to the couch as she stood. “Let me get you some soup.”
I pressed a hand to my middle. My appetite had its ownGone to Lunchsign hung, and I couldn’t imagine forcing anything into my stomach, much less past the stabbing pain in my throat. “I’m not really hungry.”
She gave me her signaturedon’t argue with me, young ladylook. “You need to eat. And get as much rest and fluids as possible. I have a feeling I’ll be grilled by the good doctor when he gets back about how much you ate, drank, and slept.”
Only because Ben was a dedicated doctor. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mom came back with a tray. A bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup sat in the middle with a peeled orange and a bottle of water on the side. She placed the tray on my lap and resumed her place at my feet, her knuckles rubbing into my arch. I picked up the spoon and blew across the hot liquid as the muscles in my foot relaxed against her touch. The warmth of the broth soothed my throat as I swallowed. Huh. Maybe I was hungry after all.
Mom’s hand stilled. After a moment, she turned her head and looked at me. Really looked at me. Thatwe’re about to have a serious conversationlook. People have said that my face is easy to read. I got that from Mom. “Dad and I have wanted to apologize to you, Molly.”
Apologize? I wracked my brain trying to figure out the reason, but other than them being as busy as they always were, I came up blank. I quirked a brow at her as I slurped an egg noodle into my mouth.
Her lips formed around a word, but she seemed to think better of it, because her mouth pressed together before she started again. “It’s not only service men and women in the military who are required to sacrifice, and I don’t think everyone realizes that. Your dad and I, we were given the choice and knew the cost of him joining the Navy to serve our country, but you…” She stared at a spot on the opposite wall. “You were never given such a choice.”
I set my spoon down. “Mom.”
