Roman put Samuel back on his stomach and placed the rabbit just out of reach. “Go for it, buddy.”
Grace handed Roman the mug of fresh brew and busied herself taking out sandwich fixings. She thanked God the man didn’t have a clue what she was feeling. Everything had been fine until he died on the sidewalk, and her world turned upside down. She didn’t want to love him. She’d just be hurt again, far worse this time than ever before. She felt a blush coming and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Turning away, she opened the jar of peanut butter. Get a grip, Grace. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with here.
“I haven’t thanked you properly for saving my life.”
She faced him. “I didn’t save your life. God did.”
“Yes, I know Jesus saved me, but He used you to do it.” He looked grim. “You did CPR on me. Remember?” He rubbed his chest. “My chest still aches.”
“I’m not surprised. A man helped me. And then two paramedics worked on you, and then a surgeon. You had a lot of hands on you, Roman.”
“Yours were the first.”
Why did he have to look at her like that? Her insides felt warm and soft. “Well, I’m glad you’re alive.”
“That makes two of us.”
Roman hadn’t moved, but he felt closer. His gaze traveled over her face, lingering on her mouth. Samuel started to cry. Thankful for the distraction, Grace went to check on her son. She bent down and munched at his tummy, making him laugh before she scooped him up.
Roman returned to the sofa. Leaning forward, knees apart, he held the mug in both hands and watched her pour formula into a bottle. He looked so pensive, but then considering what he’d been through, he did have a lot to think over. She warmed the bottle in the microwave. “Did you sleep any better last night?”
“No.”
Grace came back with Samuel on her hip and handed Roman the bottle of warm milk. He looked surprised, then worried. “You’re sure you trust me?”
“I only have two hands, and you’re both hungry.” She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile as she relinquished her son. “Be brave, Roman. Cradle him in your arms, give him the bottle, and you’ll be just fine.”
Roman did what she told him and gave her a smug look. “I think I have the hang of it.”
All that male confidence needed a reality check. “I should warn you: what goes in one end comes out the other.” He uttered a short, suitable word. She smiled slightly. “Precisely.”
Grace prepared chicken parmigiana and slid it into the oven. She started water heating for spaghetti and cut squash, sweet peppers, and onions for roasting. Setting the table for two, she looked over and saw Roman stretched out on the sofa with Samuel lying on his chest, both sound asleep. Heart aching, Grace sat in the rocker and watched them.
Oh, Lord, don’t let me make another mistake, please. I don’t want to be like my mother and pick a man who’ll destroy me. Patrick came close. And the other . . . I can’t blame anyone but myself for the choices I’ve made.
Samuel stirred. She carefully lifted him away, not wanting to disturb Roman. Holding her son close, she studied the man occupying her sofa. Roman had been tormented by nightmares at the hospital. He’d talked in his sleep and cried out at times. Now, he looked so peaceful.
Roman awakened to the sound of running water. He sat up, rubbing his face. He’d slept deeply, without dreams for the first time since he’d had the near-death experience. Grace stood at the kitchen sink, giving Samuel a bath. Towel draped over her shoulder, she looked at him. “You’re awake.”
“I didn’t mean to go out like that.”
“You were exhausted.” She gave a nod. “Your dinner is on the table. You might have to microwave it.” Samuel splashed, and she laughed.
The meal smelled and looked good. “You’ve gone above and beyond duty taking care of your boss.” He pulled out a chair and sat, feeling more at home here than anywhere else.
“It’s no more than a friend would do.” Grace pulled the stopper and let the water drain. Wrapping the towel around Samuel, she lifted him from the sink. “Come on, little man. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Roman took a few bites, relishing the home-cooked meal. He noticed the time on the microwave and groaned inwardly. Grace didn’t seem upset, but what woman wants a man to come over so he can spend three hours sleeping on her sofa? He called out to her. “I’ll take dinner over to my place and get out of your way.” He pushed the chair back.
She came back, Samuel riding her hip, his hand clutching the front of her blouse. “You can finish dinner before you go.” When Samuel started to fuss, Grace bounced him and kissed him on the top of the head. “I’d better get him settled.”
“Thanks for dinner, Grace.”
“You’re welcome. I think you’ll sleep better now that you’re home and fed.”
By home, she meant the big house, and he knew he wouldn’t. He finished dinner, rinsed his plate, and put it in the dishwasher, seeing the irony that he knew how to keep things neat and tidy in someone else’s house, but not his own.
Collecting his cane, he closed her door on the way out. He stood on her stoop and let his eyes adjust to the night. Crickets chirped and fell silent as he walked along the pathway. He’d left the front door unlocked. Flicking on the lights, he came into the foyer. He left them on and switched on more in the living room. He turned more on in the hall. His footsteps echoed. He’d left his bed unmade. When had he become such a slob? He looked around his stark, black-and-white, ultramodern bedroom and decided he’d sleep better in the guest room.
Wide-awake now, Roman went back to the living room. The silence unnerved him. He turned on the television. Pulling his black book out from under the couch, he sketched the prostitute’s house in Bodie. Flipping the page, he drew his mother. One drawing flowed into another: Reaper lying in a pool of blood, White Boy falling. The images darkened, and he filled several pages with demonic faces. Realizing what he was doing, he shoved the book back under the leather couch.
He hadn’t seen Jesus’ face. All he saw was light.
Raking hands through his hair, he stood and limped to the windows, where he looked out at the night sky. He saw darkness everywhere. Grace would see the stars. He felt seven years old again, abandoned, scared. He’d never felt safe in the apartment when his mother was gone. Even less so when she brought men back. That last night, she’d left him alone and vulnerable. He’d clung, and she’d pushed him away. He’d watched out the window, just as he was doing now. He moved back from the blackness.
Jesus. Jesus.
Roman sensed monsters lurking just beyond the veil, so close, still intent on pulling him away from the One who’d saved him.
THE WEEK PASSED SLOWLY without Grace coming to work each day. Roman gave her some space. It was the least he could do, after everything she had done for him.
Late Saturday night, his phone beeped an incoming message. Grace. Would you like to go to church with me and Samuel tomorrow?
Roman’s first inclination was to say no, but he remembered Jasper’s advice. Best to go for the first time with someone he knew. And he’d have more time with Grace. He thumbed a response. What time? Her answer came quickly, and she wished him a good night.
Roman drove to Van Nuys, Grace in the front passenger seat and Samuel strapped into a car seat behind him. The parking lot filled; a multitude migrated toward the open doors, where greeters handed out programs. Roman had never felt comfortable in a crowd.