his sticky fingers. "Did you have a good afternoon?"
Christopher glanced guiltily at Jake but then bobbed his head.
Sara raised her chin and met Jake's gaze. "Did you have a good afternoon?"
"I don't think 'good' quite characterizes it."
A small smile played on her mouth, and she bit her lower lip.
Jake suspected she was suppressing a grin.
"I'm trying to get supper started," he said gruffly. He didn't like to be laughed at, but he deserved it after this fiasco.
"I'll take Christopher upstairs and help him get cleaned up, then I'll help you with supper."
It seemed like no time at all until Sara and Christopher returned to the kitchen. But instead of adding to the chaos, Christopher helped Sara pick up the pots, pans, and paper towels.
Jake had managed to wipe up most of the water.
When Christopher settled on the living room floor to build with a set of blocks, Jake asked Sara, "How do you do it?"
Turning from the lettuce she'd torn apart for the salad, she asked, "Do what?"
"Watch him and get anything done!"
She didn't laugh as he suspected she might. "It took practice."
He hung a wet towel on the handle of the stove. "I could practice from now until doomsday--"
"Jake, he was testing his boundaries."
"I figured that out. I just didn't know what to do about it." Admitting that was tough for Jake. He was used to knowing what to do, rarely confused about what direction to take.
Sara sliced a carrot into the salad. "I use time-outs with Christopher."
Jake stood beside her, watching her slender fingers. "And they are...?"
"When he does something he's not supposed to do or doesn't listen, he has to sit in a specified chair for three, five, or seven minutes. I set a timer. I should have told you about it, but I thought you'd want to find your own way of dealing with him."
"In other words, you didn't think I'd listen to you."
Sara diplomatically kept silent and sliced a cucumber.
Jake mowed his hand through his hair. "I found out today how different kids are. Because I was a father once, I thought I could do it the same. But each child is as individual as his name."
"Christopher reminds you of Davie." She said it softly, not pressing too hard.
He leaned against the counter. "Yes. But today I really saw them as two different boys. They might look alike, but Christopher is Christopher."
The only sound in the kitchen was Sara slicing the cucumber.
He realized all the things she could say, how she could resent him for not seeing Christopher as unique all along. But she kept silent.
Jake remarked, "He can be a little tornado. I guess you know what works with him."
"Not all the time," she said in a tone that let him know she understood the afternoon he'd experienced.
She was letting him keep his pride, telling him subtly that she didn't have all the answers, either. But where their son was concerned, she knew a hell of a lot more than he did. "Time outs, huh?"
She put down the knife. "Time outs and lots of hugs. You're good with Christopher, Jake."
"Yeah, I guess I'm not too bad. The house was still standing when you got home."
She laughed at his wry humor, and he had to smile back. He also felt compelled to move closer, to breathe in the enticing scent of lingering perfume, to watch her breasts rise and fall with each breath.
Sara saw the frustration leave Jake's face, saw the golden desire flash in his eyes before he moved closer. Her hand, resting on the counter, began to tremble. She and Jake had managed to have a normal conversation. They'd worked together cleaning up and starting supper, as if they shared a common bond, as if they were working side by side like a husband and wife. And he'd realized Christopher was unique in his own right. Maybe now the pain from Davie's death would diminish and he could find joy in this son.
She wanted Jake to kiss her. She wanted it so much she was shaking. But what would Jake's reaction be
Christopher glanced guiltily at Jake but then bobbed his head.
Sara raised her chin and met Jake's gaze. "Did you have a good afternoon?"
"I don't think 'good' quite characterizes it."
A small smile played on her mouth, and she bit her lower lip.
Jake suspected she was suppressing a grin.
"I'm trying to get supper started," he said gruffly. He didn't like to be laughed at, but he deserved it after this fiasco.
"I'll take Christopher upstairs and help him get cleaned up, then I'll help you with supper."
It seemed like no time at all until Sara and Christopher returned to the kitchen. But instead of adding to the chaos, Christopher helped Sara pick up the pots, pans, and paper towels.
Jake had managed to wipe up most of the water.
When Christopher settled on the living room floor to build with a set of blocks, Jake asked Sara, "How do you do it?"
Turning from the lettuce she'd torn apart for the salad, she asked, "Do what?"
"Watch him and get anything done!"
She didn't laugh as he suspected she might. "It took practice."
He hung a wet towel on the handle of the stove. "I could practice from now until doomsday--"
"Jake, he was testing his boundaries."
"I figured that out. I just didn't know what to do about it." Admitting that was tough for Jake. He was used to knowing what to do, rarely confused about what direction to take.
Sara sliced a carrot into the salad. "I use time-outs with Christopher."
Jake stood beside her, watching her slender fingers. "And they are...?"
"When he does something he's not supposed to do or doesn't listen, he has to sit in a specified chair for three, five, or seven minutes. I set a timer. I should have told you about it, but I thought you'd want to find your own way of dealing with him."
"In other words, you didn't think I'd listen to you."
Sara diplomatically kept silent and sliced a cucumber.
Jake mowed his hand through his hair. "I found out today how different kids are. Because I was a father once, I thought I could do it the same. But each child is as individual as his name."
"Christopher reminds you of Davie." She said it softly, not pressing too hard.
He leaned against the counter. "Yes. But today I really saw them as two different boys. They might look alike, but Christopher is Christopher."
The only sound in the kitchen was Sara slicing the cucumber.
He realized all the things she could say, how she could resent him for not seeing Christopher as unique all along. But she kept silent.
Jake remarked, "He can be a little tornado. I guess you know what works with him."
"Not all the time," she said in a tone that let him know she understood the afternoon he'd experienced.
She was letting him keep his pride, telling him subtly that she didn't have all the answers, either. But where their son was concerned, she knew a hell of a lot more than he did. "Time outs, huh?"
She put down the knife. "Time outs and lots of hugs. You're good with Christopher, Jake."
"Yeah, I guess I'm not too bad. The house was still standing when you got home."
She laughed at his wry humor, and he had to smile back. He also felt compelled to move closer, to breathe in the enticing scent of lingering perfume, to watch her breasts rise and fall with each breath.
Sara saw the frustration leave Jake's face, saw the golden desire flash in his eyes before he moved closer. Her hand, resting on the counter, began to tremble. She and Jake had managed to have a normal conversation. They'd worked together cleaning up and starting supper, as if they shared a common bond, as if they were working side by side like a husband and wife. And he'd realized Christopher was unique in his own right. Maybe now the pain from Davie's death would diminish and he could find joy in this son.
She wanted Jake to kiss her. She wanted it so much she was shaking. But what would Jake's reaction be
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