Page 20 of My Mountain Man Grump
“How are your thighs?” Cole asks with a smirk on his face.
“Fine,” I lie. I take a step toward the river, and the stiffness makes me bow-legged. Cole chuckles as I bend double to rub the stiffness out. “Not fine.”
“Walk around for bit while I get lunch set up. It’ll help.”
I limp along the riverbank, and he’s not wrong. Within a few strides I’m able to stand upright, and the soreness lessens.
By the time I come back, Cole’s laid out a picnic blanket on a grassy patch by the riverbank and has the lunch set out on it.
Cole hands me a tub of chicken salad and a bamboo fork. We talk as we eat, the conversation flowing easier than it has in the last few days. No longer treating me as a stranger he opens up, telling me about his life on the mountain. He smiles when he mentions the girls and his gran.
We finish the chicken salad, and Cole hands me another container that has some of the sugar-free slice I made yesterday.
“Can I ask why you don’t eat sugar?”
Cole chews his mouthful for a long time, and I don’tthink he’s going to answer. When he does, he’s looking at the river and far away in a memory.
“My wife, Mel, died of ovarian cancer. She didn’t catch it until it was too late to do anything about it. All I could do was nurse her through the final weeks.
“It can be hereditary; the girls might have the genes for it. It doesn’t mean they will get it, but it does mean they might. They have to be vigilant.”
“And sugar can cause ovarian cancer?” It doesn’t seem right to me that one thing can cause a disease. But it’s not my specialty.
“An unhealthy diet can cause it. Sugar is a part of that. So we don’t eat it. “
I try to see his logic. Too much sugar is bad for you, we all know that, but does it mean you have to give it up completely? It sounds like he’s been overprotective, trying to protect his girls from any bad outcome. Having the cancer gene is something he can’t control, but their diet is.
“Surely a little bit of sugar every now and then wouldn’t hurt? Otherwise they might binge on it when they’re older. Same with nail polish. If you don’t let them try it as kids, they might go nuts as adults when you have no control over what they do.”
He frowns at me. “Are you questioning my parenting?”
I hold my hands up. “I wouldn’t dare. Just offering a different perspective.”
“Perspective noted.”
He takes another bite of slice and eats it in silence. By the thin set of his mouth, I take it the topic is closed.
I wonder what else haunts Cole. He doesn’t seem to still be grieving for his late wife. But I get the feeling there’s something else he’s not telling me.
But why would he? I’m a stranger after all. Although the more time we spend together, the more we’re learning about each other.
“Where are your parents?” I ask tentatively, not wanting to bring up old pains, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
“I never knew my dad.”
He says it matter-of-factly, and I know what that’s like. “Me neither, not really. He left when I was three.”
“Mom bought me up on her own with the help of Gran. She was a single parent. It’s all I’ve known, so it doesn’t seem odd to me to do the same.”
I pop the final piece of slice in my mouth and look out at the stream. I wonder if that’s another dig, reminding me he’s not looking for a wife.
“Mom passed away ten years ago. It was a car accident.”
“I’m so sorry.” I turn back to Cole and resist the urge to take his hand. I want to comfort him, but I don’t want him to think I’m getting clingy.
“She never got to meet the girls.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Instinctively I reach a hand across to cover his. He can think what he wants, but I can’t stand seeing someone in pain and not doing anything about it.
