Wanted A Real Family(24)

Amy wrapped the ribbon around her finger, smiled up at Jase as if he’d given her a precious gift and scooted down on her back in the bed. “Look, Mommy, a pretty ribbon.”

“I see. Here, let me put it on your dresser. I’ll tie it in your hair tomorrow.”

Jase’s gaze went from mother to daughter, then back to Sara. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

“I won’t be long.”

And she wasn’t, because Amy’s eyes were almost closed by the time she said her prayers and Sara kissed her good-night. She left a hot air balloon nightlight burning and closed the door about halfway, remembering all too well the other night and what had happened on the sofa. Whenever she walked into that living room now, she remembered the feel of Jase’s hand on her skin, the firmness of his lips on hers, the demanding hunger that she’d been so tempted to meet.

They’d stick to chocolate chip cookies if they were hungry tonight.

Stopping in the kitchen, she put a few on a plate and brought them over to the coffee table. “If you’d like more, feel free. I packaged the first batch up for Marissa. If your dad would like some, I could send a few over for him.”

“They’re excellent. He actually might like a few.”

“Okay, just let me get some tinfoil—”

Jase caught her wrist. “Come here a minute first. I have something I want to tell you and something I want to ask you.”

His grip was firm but gentle, too, and she didn’t get the feeling that this was anything too serious. She was hypervigilant these days, her antennae always quivering with awareness, just waiting for the next crisis or problem. If she and Amy just had a little bit of a break from disaster, they might get their optimism back again. Amy sure seemed as though she was on the road to happiness.

From his jeans pocket Jase pulled a sheet of paper that had been folded into quarters. He unfolded it, smoothed it out. “I would have emailed this to you, but I know you lost your computer in the fire.”

“And I don’t have a smartphone. I just wanted basic charges.”

He nodded as if he understood, then handed her the article. “This is my first article on The Mommy Club—who they are, how they help parents. I’ve also covered the food drive and summer lunch program, giving contact numbers if anyone wants to help or needs help. Just tell me what you think. Be honest.”

She could see he was serious about the honesty part. Did he feel rusty? Had writer’s block plagued him the past couple of years? Had everything he’d seen and experienced locked up his heart until he couldn’t open it to let it pour onto paper?

As she read the article, she was sitting only a few inches from him on the sofa. When he took a cookie from the coffee table, his leg brushed hers. She didn’t move away. She also didn’t think he felt the nonchalance he was trying to show her. This article mattered, not only to him, but to the community at large. She knew how important it was.

When she’d finished, she set the article on her lap.

“Well?”

“You’re a smooth, professional writer, and you know how to make a story come alive.”

“I used to.”

“And there was a reason you used to. You whittled down a story to one, two or three children and you told us all about them. You made us care about them. That was always the strength of everything you wrote.”

“And now?” he prompted.

“Now, I think this is a great first piece, but it would be even better if you spotlighted someone The Mommy Club had helped.”

“Like you?”

That hadn’t been at all what she was thinking when she suggested it, and she said quickly, “Oh, no. I don’t want to go public. The news story was bad enough.”

“I talked to two other women who essentially told me the same thing. So finding that specific story, and going into detail, isn’t going to be that easy if no one will cooperate with me.”

“But you’re such a good persuader.”

“Then let me persuade you.”

“Jase—”

“I want you to think about it, Sara. I only have to go as far as you want me to go. We can make the article about you moving in here, how grateful you are to have a place to stay, how Amy seems to be her old self again, how you’re making new friends. It can be a positive story. That’s the point. My details don’t have to have anything to do with your marriage, or your debts, or the insurance investigation. That’s not the focus of these articles. The point of the articles is to show the community supporting its residents.”

“I need to think about it.”

“That’s fine. Think about it. I’m going to drop this off tomorrow and I’ll have a week until the next one’s due.”