* * *
“What are you guys up to?” Grace asked, flipping through one of the recipe books that Tio had picked up for her at the library. The kids had just gotten home from school, and there was tons of time before dinner, but Grace had been at a loss after Hugh had left a few hours earlier. Meal planning gave her something to focus on, something that wasn’t a burly, soap-opera-loving cop.
Dee paused in her rush to beat the twins to the back door. “We’re going to play footer.”
“Footer?” Grace echoed.
“You can play, if you like.” Dee looked at her with hopeful eyes, even as Grace’s chest tightened at the thought of leaving the house.
She cleared her throat, hoping that her voice would come out sounding normal. “Thanks, but I should do…uh, something in here.” Gesturing at the cookbook, Grace gave her a weak smile.
Dee studied her for a moment, her expression too serious for a little girl. “That’s okay,” she finally said, patting Grace’s arm before following her brothers outside. Grace stared at the door, feeling like the biggest scaredy-cat alive.
“Y-you sh-sh-should c-come outside.”
Grace jumped, twisting in her chair to see Sam. “Oh! You startled me.” She cocked her head, watching him curiously. Usually, he did his best to avoid her, only speaking to her when it was absolutely unavoidable. This was the first time he’d actually initiated conversation.
He looked at her in a way that was uncomfortably close to how his sister had eyed her, as if they knew exactly what she was scared of. “You sh-should p-play.”
Grace’s laugh came out sounding strangled. “I don’t even know what footer is, much less how to play it.”
“It’s a m-m-mix of f-footb-ball and soccer. We d-don’t know the rules, either. W-we j-j-just make them up as w-we g-g-go.”
That time, her smile was real, although short-lived. She looked down at the cookbook. “I don’t know…” She didn’t want to admit her silly fear that Martin Jovanovic and his flunkies might be hiding in the woods, waiting for her to leave the safety of the house. It was irrational, and she knew it. She shouldn’t be hiding as children tried to coax her to do simple, normal things, but that seemed to be her life now. Thanks, Martin, you asshole.
“It’s ok-kay.” Her gaze flew to his face. It was like he’d read her thoughts. “If whoever’s af-fter you knows wh-where you l-live, it’s t-t-too l-late anyw-way.”
She stared at him in horror. If he was trying to encourage her, then he kind of sucked at it.
“Th-they’re n-not g-g-going to f-find you j-just bec-c-cause you g-go outside.”
It was her turn to study him as she considered what he’d said. “You’re right.” Shutting the cookbook with a slap, she stood abruptly. Even though he was several feet away, Sam still took a step back, looking alarmed. Grace wondered what had happened to him, what he and his brothers and sisters had gone through that had driven them out of their lives and into hiding. His expression became guarded, and she shook off her thoughts. “I’m going to play sockball or whatever you call it.”
Her attempt at a bad joke was rewarded by a tiny smile from Sam. “F-footer.”
“Footer. Right. I’m going to play footer. No, I’m going to rule at footer. Watch out, footer world, because I’m about to dominate!”
His smile grew, and Grace felt like she’d already won. Taking a deep breath, she shoved all thoughts of Martin Jovanovic from her mind and followed Sam out the door. Screw being scared. It was time to play footer.
* * *
“You don’t have to fix breakfast every morning, you know,” Jules said, the last two words muffled by a yawn. Shoving some dark strands of hair out of her eyes, she made a beeline for the coffeepot. “I mean, it’s wonderful to wake up to the smell of sausage and syrup, but I’m starting to feel like a slacker.”
Grace snorted as she flipped a piece of French toast. “Right. You’re a total slacker. Getting up at five to work your cute little butt off at the diner, and then coming home to take care of your brothers and sister. Plus there are all those things you keep trying to fix with duct tape. You really do live a pampered life.”
After a halfhearted effort at glaring, Jules gave up with a shrug. “It’s too early to do this battle-of-wits stuff. Give me ten minutes and some coffee, and I’ll think of an awesome comeback to that.”
With an amused snort, Grace said, “I really don’t mind cooking. It helps keep my mind occupied. In fact, I’m going to go job hunting today. All I do if I sit around is think about…things.”